“This is too much. That thing doesn’t hurt anyone permanently. From what they say it doesn’t even affect anyone who doesn’t climb it.”
“Still, it is strong magic and that makes it an unchancy neighbor. The villagers’ desire to rid themselves of the thing is understandable.”
“Great. But where will it all end? Are these people going to go around destroying anything just because it’s magic?”
“If they have the opportunity.”
“That’s crazy!”
“No, it is understandable. It is the people in the villages, especially along the Fringe, who have suffered the most from magic. To you in your pale tower in the Capital magic may be a thing to be learned and applied. Here it is a thing to be hated and feared. Is it any wonder that as soon as they were given an opportunity to practice magic safely, they should go looking for a weapon?”
“I gave them a defense,” Wiz protested. “I didn’t expect them to turn it into something so dangerous!”
“You did say you wanted even common folk to learn your new way of magic,” Philomen said mildly.
“Yes, but not like this!”
“Are you now complaining because someone took you at your word?”
“I’m complaining because this spell is fucking magical napalm!” Wiz yelled. “I expected people to have more sense than this.”
“Sense?” Philomen asked with a trace of malice. “My Lord, forgive me, but when have the folk of the villages ever shown such sense?
“Once it was the Council’s job to maintain the balance of the World. But as you have said, the Council is outworn and lives beyond its usefulness. Or did you expect the folk along the Fringe to learn restraint and balance overnight?”
“I never said the Council was useless.”
“You never put it in words,” Philomen retorted. “But you said it with every act, every gesture, every roll of the eyes or yawn in Council meeting. Oh, your message got through, right enough. Even to the villages on the Fringe of the Wild Wood.
“Then you compound your actions by giving villagers a powerful spell they can use freely and telling everyone who would listen that you do not have to be a wizard to practice magic.” Philomen’s lip curled in contempt. “No, My Lord, you are getting exactly what you strived for.”
Wiz couldn’t think of anything to say.
“So come, My Lord, let us attend the laying of this thing. And for the sake of what little order remains in the World, let us put a good face on it.” With that he turned and walked back across the meadow to where Alaina was waiting. Wiz hesitated for an instant and then followed.
The entire village was gathered before the stone by the time the three magicians arrived. All of them were wearing their holiday best. The adults were clumped together talking excitedly and the children were running around laughing and shrieking at play.
They parted like a wave for the three magicians. Andrew was standing at the front of a few of the other people from the feast last night.
Alaina looked over the crowd, eyes shining and her coarse face split in a huge smile.
“Well,” she said briskly, “shall we begin?”
She motioned with her staff and the villagers fell back, Wiz and Philomen with them. Then she turned to face the rock, struck a dramatic pose and thrust her staff skyward.
“demon_debug BEGONE exe!” she bawled.
At first nothing seemed to happen. Wiz could feel the tension rising in the crowd and knotting up in his stomach. He took a firmer grip on his staff and began to review the spells he might use if this only roused the creature.
Maybe it won’t work, he thought to himself, half-afraid and half-hopeful. Maybe the spell will crash.
Then the rock moaned.
The sound was so low it sent shivers through Wiz’s bones, as if someone was playing the lowest possible note on the biggest bass fiddle in the world. It started low and then built and rose until it threatened to drown out all other sound.
There was something else there besides sound, Wiz realized. Some sort of mental influence, as if . . .