Les Sources de la magie
Joël Champetier
(Chapter 4, p. 84-97)
Ignace the Catonian's cramped writing demanded attentive reading, especially since what he was writing about was not exactly limpid. If he is to be believed, the only infinity known until this day was but "a triflingly small infinity" compared to the infinite number of dots one could find in a line, this infinity being to the former "as the whole dome of the sky is to the stars."
As was often the case when he was reading, Ian became totally oblivious to the passage of time, the walls around him and the warm weight of Lil' Quail lying on his feet. Until a clear voice said close to his ear:
"Are you really able to decipher those scribblings?
Ian, startled, almost tore the page he was perusing. He had not realized that Marion had entered his study and was reading over his shoulder.
"Ah, Marion, it's you."
The girl walked around his chair and looked quizzically at the books piled up on the desk.
"I'm not disturbing you?"
"No... of course not."
"I can sit down here?"
"Please."
Marion casually sat down in one of the armchairs facing the work desk and put her feet up on the other one. With all the condescending interest of a cat, her head leaning on the back of the chair, she examined the book shelves, the drapes, the paintings. Ian tried to go back to his reading, but he had trouble concentrating as he could feel the girl breathing a few feet away, hear the squeaking of her armchair and the rustling of her dress when she changed position. He realized he was no longer reading his colleague's letter, and that his whole mind was preoccupied with a dilemma both ridiculous and awkward: would he be forced to take back what he had said and explain to his young visitor that, in fact, yes, she was disturbing him.
"Is that what you do all day," Marion said. "Read?"
"I read a lot, yes. You must read and think all the time when you practice magic."
"Yours is a rather weird life."
"The world needs every kind of trade. If I were the seneschal of a kingdom, like your father, I would have no time to practice magic."
"Don't you get bored, all alone all day?"
"I'm far from being a hermit. I have friends. You've met Trivelin. My colleague Pierre Coen often comes here to talk with me. You'll no doubt have a chance to meet him."
"But you never go out? You never go dancing?"
Ian burst out laughing at this incongruous suggestion.
"Dancing? You have such funny ideas!"
"What's funny about it? I love to dance. There must be balls in Contremont?"
Ian's smile became more compassionate.
"My poor Marion. I feel that despite all your resolutions, you miss Besline and your friends a little, don't you?"
"No," Marion protested feebly, eyes staring at the ceiling. "It's quieter here than I thought, I must admit. I thought we would do some magic, and that it would be fun."
Once he was sure he would be able to speak without laughing, Ian said:
"I've done more magic since your arrival than I have in ages. I don't go to the castle using the Practicable every day, you know. In fact, I believe it's the first time I've done that while taking someone else with me. You are very lucky."
Marion smiled.
"Five years ago, you said that when I came to visit you, you would show me magical objects. Do you remember?"
"Well... no. But it's plausible that I made the promise just to keep you quiet."
"Hey! I was never as quiet as when you visited us!"
Ian put down the letter of Ignace the Catonian and got out of his armchair.
"I'll show you some magical objects then. If you promise you'll behave."
Marion got up too, rolling her eyes with exasperation.
"You sound just like my father!"
Holding a lantern, Ian went to his laboratory, followed by Marion and Lil' Quail. In the big, stone-walled room, the flickering light of the lamp illuminated an extraordinary mess.
"What's all this?" Marion said.
"Usually, it's a lot more orderly. I haven't finished tidying up."
With a candle, Ian lighted several lanterns hanging from the ceiling.
"Odd smell," Marion said, scrunching her nose. "And why do you keep this room so dark?"
"One thing at a time. We're here for the magical objects."
Ian led his niece to the back of the laboratory, where the mysterious door was still going through its metamorphoses. The wood was now slightly coloured and darkened by a bit of wax. The bronze frame was thicker, while the metallic ornaments and the door knob were decorated with geometric reliefs.
The magician explained to Marion how the door had appeared, and confessed he had no idea whatsoever why, but that it was in the hope of solving the mystery that he had been reading. He brought the lantern closer to better see and said:
"Look at those ornaments. They were not there yesterday. Are they symbols, letters of an alphabet, or mere decoration? I don't know. I was hoping to find an explanation in my books, to find out what's on the other side."
"You just have to open it, then you'll see."
"Direct action? The young miss is not lacking in audacity. What do you think, Lil' Quail? Shall we open it?"
The dog pointed her ears:
"No!"
"Lil' Quail is more cautious than you are," Ian remarked, with a crooked smile.
"I don't like magical doors," Lil' Quail added.
"Indeed, it would be imprudent to open this door without taking precautions. I've invited my colleague Pierre Coen and I shall turn that knob when he's here. But don't worry, I have others things to show you."
Ian went to the great iron chest with its solid lock. He took out an oddly worked key from his robes and opened the lid. The rusty hinges creaked.
"Well... a drop of oil wouldn't be a bad idea. From now on, don't touch anything without my explicit permission. This is no time for horsing around."
Marion came a bit closer anyway, staring into the depths of the iron chest. A small oblong cage made of wire mesh was sitting on a narrow shelf, with another object even smaller, wrapped in red silk. Carefully, Ian took the cage and brought it closer to the light. Metallic reflections shimmered through the mesh. Marion saw it was a short dagger with a handle of some dark wood, like chestnut, adorned with a crimson stone.
"This blade has been tempered with a charm, so that no wound it inflicts can ever heal," Ian explained. "The tiniest cut will bleed forever. I had the protective cage made."
Marion shivered.
"What do you want with a dagger like that?"
"Nothing. It was given to me so that I would keep it hidden in the chest. With some magical objects, it is best that they never be used. This dagger is one of them. The worst thing that could happen would be if it fell into the hands of a warrior, or an assassin. Or of someone clumsy."
"Why don't you destroy it?"
"This blade cannot simply be thrown into the forge," Ian explained with a pensive frown. "This kind of weapon has a tendency to defend itself if you try to destroy it. The task must be given to a magician who has an interest in weapons. Which is certainly not my case."
"What's in the red cloth? I hope it's something more amusing."
Ian nodded with a tired smile.
"I just showed it to you."
"What?"
"Inside the red fabric there is a splendid gold bracelet set with eight blue pearls. I showed it to you twice, Marion. You even put it on your wrist and saw it was too big for you."
"Oh, Uncle Ian, you're kidding me! I did nothing of the sort!"
Ian handed her a piece of paper, on which a short message was written.I acknowledge having held in my hands the bracelet hidden in the red silk. It's Uncle Ian who insists that I write this silly message.
Marion Donat.She read the message again in disbelief. It was her own writing!
"We don't really know where the dagger comes from, but the origin of this bracelet is well known. The eight blue pearls were a symbol of power in the antique kingdom of Mareil. To keep the bracelet from being taken by robbers, the King asked Delphes the Apporheticus, a powerful ancient mage, to surround the thing with an aura of forgetting. You can admire it all you want, but as soon as it is out of sight, you forget not only its existence, but the circumstances in which you have seen it. The Mareil King soon realized how unpractical the charm was. If he was unlucky enough to show his bracelet in a ceremony or in a war council, no one remembered afterwards. We don't really know whether Delphes the Apporheticus was not thinking clearly when he conceived that charm or if it should be seen as a manifestation of his mischievous sense of humour. The King of Mareil had to select another symbol of power: a sceptre with the head of a pigeon on top, holding a radish, in case you're interested. The useless bracelet was passed from one magician to another, as a curio."
"I don't get it. How do you know all this? How do you know I saw the bracelet twice? Are you immune to the aura of forgetting?"
Ian held out a register in which written lines were marching in tight ranks.
"It is not forbidden to take notes. Here are all the times I looked at the bracelet. Here, I made a drawing. I'm not very skilled, but it gives you an idea. Those who had it in their possession also had such a notebook. Of course, none of us remembers having seen the thing."
"Those are your magical objects? An awful knife and a jewel that might as well not exist for all the good it does?"
"Oh, I have many others. Here, I believe this one should appeal to you a bit more."
Ian pulled out a big flat object from the chest; Marion had mistaken it for with the chest's inner wall. He placed a prettily decorated frame in front of her. She shrieked with surprise. Her own image was reflected in the frame with that of her uncle and of Lil' Quail, under the yellow light of the lanterns, in the middle of the cluttered laboratory. As in a mirror... But it couldn't be a mirror! Their reflections didn't act like them! Marion held her hand out to the glass surface. Instead of doing the same, mirror Marion went on talking with her uncle, who answered with a fatherly smile. And now the reflection was stepping back into the room, then ran at the mirror again, red with excitement.
"What's happening," Marion whispered. "Is it me?"
"It will be you in a few moments. This mirror reflects the near future."
"Hooooo. That's interesting!"
"Magical mirrors are very popular."
"Does... does the image go far into the future?"
"Not much. Think about it: we are still in the same room, side-by-side, speaking."
"You never precisely calculated the interval?"
"It's more complicated than that. The delay depends on the mirror's state of the mirror."
But Marion was not really listening. Her eyes fixed on her reflection, who'd begun talking again with her mirror uncle, she stepped back into the room. She suddenly recognized the movement she was making.
"I've caught up with the reflection," she exclaimed, swiftly walking back to the mirror and recognizing each movement made by her reflection a few seconds earlier. "That's amazing! But, Uncle Ian, why do you hide this mirror in the chest? You should hang it in the hallway or in your library. I'm sure your visitors would find it very amusing."
"There's a good reason, but I will let you find out for yourself."
"Another trick," Marion sighed, reproducing the annoyed look of her earlier reflection.
Ian didn't answer but let his niece observe. Marion first tried to move as little as possible. The two Marion stared at each other for a while, standing in front of one another, like in a normal mirror. Suddenly, the reflection turned away with a somewhat impatient gesture and asked Ian a question. He answered with a crooked smile. Marion observed a little while longer. There was something slightly annoying about her reflection's silent movements. What was she saying? A bit miffed, Marion turned to her uncle. She was going to ask "What is she saying?" when an odd feeling interrupted her. She understood it was precisely the question her reflection had asked. It was because she'd asked the question that she asked it again. But why "again"? She hadn't asked yet, she had only thought of it... She felt suddenly dizzy, as though an abyss had opened under her: and she hadn't still said anything! She stammered stupidly, frozen like an actor who'd forgotten his line.
The image in the mirror vanished, replaced by an opaque mist.
"There you are," Ian said.
Marion held her hand out to the mirror. The smooth surface was as dull and grey as a dry pool of clay.
"What happened?"
"What always happens with this kind of mirror. The brief glimpse into of the future made you modify your behaviour. Thus, the predicted future didn't happen. Which means the mirror showed you something other than your real future. Unable to solve the contradiction, the mirror stopped reflecting anything."
"But... but I didn't do it on purpose! I was caught off guard!"
"Don't apologize, my poor Marion. No one is able to repeat exactly the future actions shown by the mirror. It only functions correctly when the person who is reflected is unaware of the effect. Don't worry. The mists of paradox will dissipate in a few days. When the image reappears, it will only reflect the present time, alas. Only with time will the reflection move towards the future, farther and farther to the future. One must be patient: the progress is about two seconds a year. Until it is disturbed again with a paradox. Then the cycle begins again. The last person to look into the mirror was King Philophanes, more than four years ago. Of course, he was as incapable as you of not letting his vision of the future modify his behaviour."
A little suspicious and disappointed, Marion asked:
"So magic is useless, then? Or did you do it on purpose, showing me three objects that work all wrong?"
Ian frowned, a bit taken aback by the accusation.
"But isn't 'working all wrong' what makes magic magic? It doesn't respect the laws of nature - that's precisely how you can recognize it. You were wondering how I could dedicate long hours to reading and studying. But one cannot grasp the essence of magic without understanding the workings of the natural world that surrounds us. Besides, the fact that a phenomenon is not explained doesn't mean it's magical. Here is an example: you must know that the Moon is a world similar to the Earth, although smaller, and that it revolves around our planet."
"Yes, I knew that."
"What we don't understand yet, though, is how the Moon stays in place, up there. Why doesn't it fall to the Earth? As far as I know, everything, everywhere in the world falls in the end. A bird can fly, but as soon as its wings stop beating, it falls. What does this mean, this infringement on the general laws ruling the world? Is the Moon held in place by a magical phenomenon, by a powerful incantation?"
"Clouds don't fall."
"Excellent point. The Moon doesn't fall, neither do the clouds. Is it the same mechanism? Let's observe more closely. The clouds are not actually that high - you sometimes see them hanging on a mountainside. They appear and disappear with the winds, continuously changing shape. But there is only one Moon, it's far away and apparently very solid. At least its surface hasn't changed in thousands of years of observation, no more than its orbit. I would conclude that the Moon is nothing like the clouds."
"That's not what I said. You stated that everything fell, and I gave you an example of something that doesn't, that's all."
Ian smiled.
"Excellent. But let's get back to the Moon. Is it really so exceptional that a heavenly body floats in the air? We also know that the Earth revolves around the Sun. Some astronomers suggest that the celestial movements of Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn are also consequences of their orbit around the Sun. So the Moon would only be one body among others, dancing with great regularity in their celestial ballet around the Sun. Without understanding the mechanism, can we not suppose that it is a perfectly natural phenomenon, albeit one specific to distant heavenly bodies?"
Ian took now opaque mirror and shook it in front of Marion.
"A magical object will never behave according to a natural general law! Each magical object is unique! An ordinary mirror, when it is broken in two, will form two mirrors. Not this one. If I break it, we won't get two magical mirrors, we'll only get ordinary mirrors, and perhaps even not that. Perhaps the glass will turn into dust in front of our very eyes. What's the matter with you now?"
Marion was trying not to laugh, a hand on her mouth, a twinkle in her grey-green eyes.
"Did I say something funny?" Ian asked, taken aback.
"It's not what you're saying. It's you."
"Me?"
"I find it funny when you explain stuff and you become all serious and passionate about it."
For a heartbeat Ian didn't move, then he had a look of combined understanding and disappointment. With the smallest sigh, he put the mirror back in the iron chest.
"I see I'm boring you."
"Not at all! I find what you say extremely interesting."
"No use mocking me, Marion. I just got carried away, talking about my readings and interests, like an old man rambling on and on."
"Oh. Are you offended, Uncle Ian?"
Ian shrugged indifferently.
"Why should I be? I can understand that a girl like you has other interests than the orbits of heavenly bodies in the depth of space. I am going to inquire, to see were you can dance. It's indeed more suited to your age."
A frown replaced the sorry look on Marion's face.
"Hey, now I'm offended! Just because I like to laugh and dance doesn't mean I'm not interested in other things."
"That wasn't what I..."
"I know what people think," Marion interrupted fervently. "They think I'm stupid because I'm a girl, and with blond hair to boot. They think that a girl is only interested in dancing, in clothes, and in her wedding. Do you know what I hate the most, Uncle Ian? It's when one of my tutors tells me not to read a history or philosophy book because it won't interest me. Nobody knows what's going to interest me or not. That kind of assumption just gets my goat, each time!"
"Like now?"
Marion's anger vanished at once. She looked both abashed and full of disbelief.
"Yes, like now. Oh, Uncle Ian, I'm sorry for getting angry. I don't even remember how we got onto this topic."
"It meandered as mightily as the course of the Pibole, but I think I got the gist of it. I offer an agreement: you leave me alone when I'm reading in my study, and as for me I shall never tell you that a book will not interest you before you judge for yourself. In fact I will say the exact opposite. I also promise to inform you about the next balls scheduled in Contremont, and with no assumptions whatsoever about the interest you might harbour for that kind of event."
Marion offered her hand.
"I accept."
Ian shook his niece's hand and accompanied her out of his laboratory. Once in the hall, Marion gave him a teasing look.
"In other words, despite your denials, I did disturb you, a moment ago. You are able to lie when polite behaviour demands it."
Ian laughed a little, silent laugh, said goodbye to his niece and went back to his library and his readings...
© 2002 Éditions Alire & Joël Champetier
To find out what happens next...
