Scholar of Magic (Art of the Adept #3) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,10

you start to get a sense for those who have talent. Talent and stubbornness were the things I looked for. Lucky for you, neither common sense nor intelligence seem to be important factors, otherwise I’d probably have just traded you for a cow or something more useful and less aggravating.”

“You almost slipped up there. That was dangerously close to a compliment,” noted Will wryly.

The ring ignored him. “So, you seem to be developing a more mature control of turyn, but you said you hurt yourself.”

He described the pain he’d started having after using the point-defense spell at home.

“Sounds like you sprained your will,” observed Arrogan.

“Is that the same thing that happened to me when I first started expressing turyn?”

“I don’t remember the event in question, so I don’t know. It’s helpful to think of your will as a muscle, even though it isn’t. Regular exercise will make it stronger, but if you overdo it you can injure yourself. An injury to your will can range from something akin to a muscle sprain to something every bit as serious as tearing a muscle free of the bone. Any serious user of magic will eventually hurt themselves, but if you don’t learn to avoid overdoing it you could potentially destroy your ability to use turyn—completely.”

“So what should I do?”

“Avoid using any magic for a few days. Try something small after that. You’ll have recovered from a minor injury in that time, but if it still gives you a headache, or any pain at all for that matter, then you should give yourself a full two weeks of rest, because that would indicate that you hurt yourself pretty badly.”

“That really does sound similar to a muscle injury,” agreed Will.

“It’s a useful analogy.”

Will glanced up as a bell rang from the front hall. Someone was at the door. It was already after dark and he hadn’t agreed to meet anyone, so the interruption annoyed him. He considered letting Blake answer it, but a sudden impulse overtook him. Standing up, he stepped out of the study and shouted toward the kitchen, “I’ll see who it is.” After hearing Blake’s acknowledgement, he strode purposefully to the front hall.

Chapter 3

A small figure stood before his front door, covered in a heavy wool cloak that was steadily dripping water. It had been raining heavily since shortly after Will had arrived home, but his visitor had apparently been caught by the elements.

Wool was an excellent material for damp weather. It could absorb many times its own weight in water before actually becoming wet, but once it had reached its limit it became a serious liability. Not only would it be wet, but it also weighed many times its normal dry weight. Will couldn’t see his visitor’s face but he knew better than to allow an unannounced stranger inside. Despite his newfound influence as Selene’s husband he had no doubt that he had far more enemies than friends.

He spoke through the small window inset in the center of the heavy oaken door. “Whatever it is we’re not interested. Leave a card tomorrow.”

As he began closing the window, the stranger replied, “Please. I need to see Selene. She wouldn’t turn me away.” The voice was distinctly feminine with a cultured accent. It reminded him of Stephanie Beresford.

Just a year before, he would never have considered turning a woman away from his door when it was raining, but he was significantly less trusting these days. He had changed. Plus Tailtiu had already retired for the evening, meaning she had left. In spite of her part in keeping up the illusion that Selene was living there, Will refused to let her sleep anywhere near him. Selene’s doppelganger was probably already back in Faerie.

“Sorry. No visitors without an appointment.” He felt a faint pang of guilt as he shut the tiny wooden door that closed the window.

Before he had gone two paces a persistent banging began as the woman outside began pounding on the door. “Please! I left my card earlier. I have to see her!”

Will took a deep breath to calm himself, then returned to the door. This time he drew the bolt and opened the