‘The shape?’ asked Gaise.
‘This is not easy to explain, my lord. Think of a juggler, tossing three balls in the air. His dexterity is better than most men’s. What he does is amusing and clever. Now imagine five balls. This man is very talented. The concentration required to keep all the balls in the air is matched only by his extraordinary co-ordination. My ward spells are five ball tricks. To create a greater spell, covering, say, the whole of Eldacre, would be like a man juggling a hundred balls in the air at the same time. I do not possess that degree of talent. I cannot hold all the incantation words in my head at the same time, nor balance the rhythms of the Words of Power.’
‘Something is missing here,’ said the Moidart.
‘Missing, my lord?’
‘This replenishing of energies. You cast a spell. It lives for a while then it dies. You replace it. You say the spells come from your talent.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘But the Redeemers do not possess your talents?’
‘No. They use the power of the Seidh skull.’
‘An external source that they can draw upon.’
‘Indeed, my lord.’
‘But you do not use such a source. Your talent is from within.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘You were born with this talent for manipulating the magic that is all around us?’
‘Yes.’
The Moidart looked at him closely. ‘And you use nothing to enhance it?’
Powdermill could not meet the Moidart’s hawk-eyed gaze. ‘I have an amulet that was blessed by the Veiled Lady. This adds to my talent.’
Tut aside your fears, Powdermill, I shall not steal it from you. Let me ask you this: if you had the Orb of Kranos would your powers increase?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Would you then be able to create a ward spell to cover the whole of Eldacre?’
‘I don’t know, my lord. But I would certainly be able to perform greater spells than I can at this moment.’
‘The cathedral is full of holy ornaments,’ said the Moidart. ‘Perhaps one of them could be useful.’
‘No, my lord,’ said Powdermill, glumly. ‘I have been to the cathedral. There is nothing there but forgeries and fakes. I went to Varingas once, to see the Blessed Veil. When I reached out with my talent I knew it was merely a piece of gauze. The image of the face was created by carefully applying iron oxides to the cloth. Items imbued with genuine magic are rare.’
‘What I still do not understand,’ said the Moidart, ‘is the central principle. Magic, you tell me, is like a living thing. How is it that the magic in your amulet does not fade as your spells do?’
‘There are only theories to answer that, my lord,’ said Powdermill. ‘The one I feel is closest to the truth concerns the nature of magic. It is born in some way through sunlight and its effect on living things. My amulet was blessed by the Veiled Lady. This made it a vessel of magic. You have seen the weird pieces of iron that attract other pieces of iron?’
‘I have seen magnets,’ said the Moidart.
‘I believe the amulet operates in a similar fashion, drawing magic to it from out of the air, from sunlight. I do not know how the process works. I do know that it regenerates itself. In some places it will regenerate more swiftly. Forests, for example, seem to give it greater power.’
‘Have you tried blood?’ asked the Moidart.
‘I once sacrificed a chicken, but I almost destroyed the amulet in the process. This is not a piece that requires sacrifice, my lord.’
‘Pity.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘So, it seems that we can find no way to combat these Redeemers outside the castle?’
‘I know of no way to accomplish that, my lord.’
‘All you need,’ said Gaise Macon, ‘is a strong source of magic?’
Both men turned towards the golden-haired warrior. ‘Yes, my lord,’ said Powdermill.
‘Something of the Seidh?’
‘Indeed, sir.’
Gaise Macon drew the Sword in the Storm and laid it on the table. ‘Use your talent to examine this, Master Powdermill.’
Aran Powdermill looked quizzically at Gaise. ‘It is a modern sabre.’