a medicinal spell ever so slightly and you might end up
with a deadly poison. No, it must be brought whole and
ready, and you must bring it to me, my boy.” He reached
out with a trembling hand. Jon-Tom moved close, sitting
down again on the edge of the soft bed.
“I know I did a bad thing when I reached out into the
beyond and plucked you hence from your own comfortable
world, but the need was great. In the end, you vindicated
my judgment, though in a fashion that could not have been
foreseen.” He adjusted his glasses. “You proved yourself
in spite of what everyone thought.”
“Mostly by accident.” Jon-Tom realized that the wizard
was flattering him in order to break down his resistance to
making the journey. At the same time he felt himself
succumbing to the flattery.
“It need not be by accident any longer. Work at your
new profession. Study hard, practice your skills, and heed
my advice. You can be more than a man in this world. I
don’t know what you might have been in your own, but
here you have the potential to be a master. // you can
wrestle your strengths and talent under control.”
“With your instruction, of course.”
“Why not learn from the best?” said Clothahump with
typical immodesty. “In order for me to train you I need
many years. One does not master the arcane arts of
spellsinging in a day, a week, a year. If you do not fetch
this medicine that can cure this bedamned affliction, I will
not be around much longer to help you.
“I need only a small quantity. It will fit easily into a
THE DAY OF THE DISSOJVAWCE 9