“You look concerned, Castimir. Tell me, what is on your mind?” Ebenezer gently disturbed the young wizard’s reverie, and he looked up.
“Soon I shall return to the Wizards’ Tower to complete my training,” Castimir replied. “For my year’s journey is nearly at an end.” His voice trailed off as his hand unconsciously squeezed one of the many pouches on his belt. Those pouches held the most precious things a wizard could possess, the alchemist knew. For they contained the rune stones he needed to control his magic. Without them, he could no more accomplish magic than the meanest charlatan.
Ebenezer didn’t speak, leaving it to the young man to reveal his concerns in his own time. Gar’rth entered the room and stood nearby, awaiting the first instructions of the new day. The old man drew a large book from the shelf and ignored the scowl Gar’rth adopted when he saw that it was a book on human language.
“It was the mages’ discovery of the rune stones that enabled human civilisation to thrive,” Castimir mused aloud. “Using them we were able to dominate the lands of Gielinor at the end of the Fourth Age.”
Ebenezer glanced sympathetically at the young man. He knew, of course, the history that was preached by the wise, but he didn’t necessarily believe it himself. He knew the mages saw themselves as the saviours of humanity, whose actions had enabled mankind to dominate the world so much that the Fifth Age was often called “The Age of Humans.”
And yet Ebenezer could recall times from his youth when the blue-robed wizards had been a more common sight. It seemed to him that they had lessened their wanderings, as if they were growing afraid to send members of their order abroad.
In fact, Castimir was the only wizard he had seen in months.
“Are you having doubts about the path you have chosen, Castimir?” Ebenezer sat down next to Gar’rth and took a long sip of his coffee, savouring in the taste.
The first of the season’s trading caravans had made its way across White Wolf Mountain, arriving the day before and bringing with it exotic fruit and coffee beans that had found their way from the southern islands to Catherby. Being the first to cross the mountain, they had expected an excellent profit, but they had been disappointed. Fear of the monster had deterred many Falador traders from making the usually safe journey to Taverley.
Recognising that fewer buyers meant better prices, Ebenezer had decided to purchase several sacks of coffee beans. He had tasted coffee before, but not for a long time.
The alchemist sipped from his cup while he waited for the blue-robed youth to reply. The wizard was obscured from view by the steam that rose from the hot liquid and fogged his glasses. With a sigh he finished his drink, set the empty cup down, and wiped his spectacles on a small cloth that he kept for that purpose.
As he did, Castimir finally spoke again.
“Not about the path, Ebenezer,” Castimir said. “I have no doubt that I am best suited to be a wizard. Could you imagine me as a farmer, or a miner, or a blacksmith?” He shook his head. “I grew up with books, learning about places far off, entertaining the other children with legends. My most eager student then was Theodore.” He smiled at the fond remembrance. “No, Ebenezer, my worry stems from something else, which could have severe implications for us all, over time.”
But he fell silent again, reluctant to explain further, for to do so-even to a trusted friend like Ebenezer-was strictly against the rules of his order.
And how could Castimir ever admit the truth, and tell Ebenezer that the rune stones were actually running out? Existing supplies could not be replenished, and the wizards were thus restricting the number of mages allowed to use them. Castimir had been granted permission because of his unusual aptitude for magic. His masters were certain he could be a great asset to the Wizards’ Tower, and an invaluable force for protecting the human realms from their enemies.
Only the royal households of each nation knew of the dwindling supply of runes, for it was a secret that could unleash panic amongst the citizens who believed that the wizards would always be there to protect them. Castimir feared that his would be the last generation of wizards. So limited were the runes that even to use them for practice was a rare privilege, reserved for only the most skilled mages.
Each time Castimir conjured a spell, he felt guilty watching the pebble-like objects dissolve in his hands as they were consumed to summon his magic.
“I am sorry, Ebenezer,” he said. “Pay no heed to my mutterings.” Castimir thought of a lie that would divert his friend’s attention, and he was summoning the courage to speak, when a knock on the door distracted them both.
It was Kaqemeex. His face was grave.
“Ebenezer, would you be kind enough to walk with me? I have some thoughts on your proposal.”
The druid looked kindly at Gar’rth, who bowed his head in respect.
The alchemist stood up.
“I would be happy to,” he said, following the druid out of the room, leaving the two youths alone.