Section 31: Choose Your School

Two wooden chairs faced each other in a corner of the Library.

Annan sat on the edge of a patch of sunlight, keeping out of the morning sun, his hands resting somewhat stiffly on his thighs. Mr. Victor sat opposite him, his silhouette haloed by the light.

The Library door was closed. No one would disturb them.

Mr. Victor began with the basics. "How many schools of magic are there?"

"Six. Abjuration, Divination, Evocation, Necromancy, Conjuration, and Summoning."

"And spells?"

"Spells range from first to tenth circle. A caster at each stage can learn spells from two circles. Ordinary casters can use spells up to the second circle, elite casters up to the fourth, masters up to the sixth..."

"What are the steps for casting a spell?"

"For a wizard or a Sorcerer?"

"A wizard."

"First, study the theory behind the spell and construct a spell model in your mind. Then memorize it and use Magic Power to cast it. Some spells also require magical items or special chants."

"A Sorcerer."

"Usually, they only need to have seen the spell cast or know how it works. Then they can ponder... think about the spell's essence and recreate it."

"What causes the difference between wizards and Sorcerers?"

"I haven't read that part yet..."

I haven't even learned to add single digits, and he's asking me higher mathematics... Mathematics...

His wandering thoughts caught a sudden glimmer of insight.

"...Because they use different tools?"

"A novel answer..."

Mr. Victor raised his head. His aged eyes held regret and sorrow.

Annan guessed Mr. Victor saw his younger self in him.

"Then do you also know the difference between Magic Power and Psionic Power?"

"They're different tools?"

Mr. Victor nodded, seemingly pleased with Annan's guess. He picked up his terracotta-colored coffee cup. "Do you know how this cup was made?"

"Sand was fired to make it."

"And the coffee inside?"

"Ground coffee beans."

"And coffee beans?"

"The fruit of a coffee tree."

Victor set down the cup and picked up the book beside it. "What about its pages?"

"Wood and plant fibers are turned into pulp, pulp into paper, and paper is bound into books," Annan answered.

Victor put down the book. His cloudy eyes narrowed as he searched the Library for something Annan could not explain.

"I don't know how water forms," Annan said humbly at once.

The old man did not pursue that question. "Wizards do," he said with a snort.

"Magic is a tower built toward the heavens by countless mages over countless years. The first mages laid its foundations, using knowledge as stone and reaching toward the stars in search of answers."

"Sorcerers are born casters. They never use knowledge as a tool to pry open the door to the unknown."

Mr. Victor had slipped back into a wizard's arrogance—praising wizards while disparaging everyone else. Fortunately, he had not forgotten what they were there to do. "Your talent does not come from your bloodline. That leaves the magic of the six schools as the only way to awaken your Magic Power."

Annan straightened a little. He had been waiting for this moment.

Mr. Victor glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. "It's about time." As he finished speaking, the shadow of a carriage stopping on the street fell across the door and windows.

"Open the door."

Annan rose and went to the entrance. To his surprise, he saw a familiar figure step down from the carriage.

"Little Winchester?"

"Lindy Winchester." Little Winchester formally told Annan her name.

"Of course, Little Winchester." Annan glanced at the luxurious lacquered carriage bearing the Winchester family crest, wondering whether Lady Fine Wine was inside.

"She isn't."

Li—Lindy seemed to know what he was thinking. Carrying a stack of scrolls, she passed Annan and approached the sunny corner. "Teacher Victor," she said respectfully.

"What are those?"

After closing the Library door, Annan looked at the scrolls Lindy had set down.

"Perhaps it's just as well you aren't a wizard," Mr. Victor sighed suddenly. "Your ignorance would make even an evil wizard want to cut open your head and study it."

That sounded like Martin.

"These are five magic scrolls," Lindy said.

Victor's drooping eyes swept over them. "No Necromancy scroll."

"We couldn't find one in town. But if none of the other five schools works for him, he can only belong to Necromancy."

Mr. Victor gave no sign of agreement. Lindy took over the testing.

"What do I need to do?" Annan asked.

"These contain first-circle spells from five schools. I'll use them. Watch, feel, and imagine yourself doing the same," Lindy said. "This is Shield Spell from Abjuration."

She tore open the first scroll. Azure light spilled from the tear and formed a shield-shaped apparition around her.

Annan felt nothing unusual.

"Apparently you're not someone who wants to protect others," Mr. Victor said with biting sarcasm.

Lindy dismissed the Shield Spell and picked up the second scroll.

“Mount Spell from Conjuration.”

A brown horse materialized beside Lindy, its hooves stepping forward as its hazy form turned solid.

The lifelike horse was a magical creature and would vanish when its time ran out. Even so, Annan marveled at seeing it appear from nothing.

Magic was far too magical in every sense...

"This one doesn't work either."

Mr. Victor's sigh brought Annan back to himself. He understood why: Conjuration was the most versatile of the six schools and the best suited to combat.

The third scroll held Detect Undead from Divination.

There were no undead here to detect. After the scroll was torn, its glow circled Lindy a few times before fading into the space between light and shadow.

Annan still felt no spark of inspiration.

Next came Evocation. Mr. Victor suddenly said, "The Library won't survive an Arcane Missile."

"Teacher, it's Floating Disk Spell."

Lindy tore open the scroll, and a glowing disk floated beside her.

Annan's only thought was, What would it feel like to stand on that?

One scroll remained.

Although Mr. Victor had said he possessed a Sorcerer's talent, Annan could not help worrying—

If Summoning failed too, his supposed talent might have been a fluke. Or he might belong to Necromancy.

That would make him the sort of necromancer who kept company with skeletons and Ghosts in dark tombs, conducting dreadful experiments no one knew about.

Lindy tore open the scroll without hesitation.

A spatial rift opened before them. From within it, where something seemed to lap like waves against a shore, emerged a figure made of water.

Annan stared at the Water Elemental. A strange feeling was on the verge of taking shape...

"Stop!"

Old Victor's shout snapped him out of it.

"Don't cast spells carelessly until you've practiced... unless you want some unspeakable being to answer your summons."

"Summoning..." Mr. Victor could not suppress a wizard's thirst for knowledge. "Child, why did you awaken an affinity for Summoning?"

Annan put it down to that door, but he could not tell Mr. Victor about it.

"I long for companions," he said after a moment's thought.

"Don't talk nonsense."

"All right. I like overwhelming enemies with numbers."