Arrogan’s face blanched at that, an expression reminiscent of an old pain come back to haunt him. “Enough. I told you one question, yet I’ve answered two. How in the hell did you wind up over there?”
Will tried to describe what he had done. “I just sort of moved sideways. Just like you did when we came back.”
“I’m well aware of how it’s done, turnip-brain,” shot back his grandfather. “But to do that, you have to be able to see things you shouldn’t be able to see.”
“I found this plant I didn’t recognize,” began Will.
The old man didn’t wait for him to finish. “Do you always stick strange plants in your mouth?”
“Well, no, not usually. But I can tell if a plant is edible, and I thought it was some variety of sage I hadn’t seen before…”
His grandfather’s eyes narrowed. “How can you tell if a plant is edible? I haven’t taught you that.”
“You haven’t taught me anything!” said Will in exasperation. “You said you’d train me to be an herbalist, but you haven’t said one word about plants since I came here!”
Instead of reacting to Will’s outburst with anger, his grandfather leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve taught you to read, along with basic mathematics…”
“What does that have to do with plants?” broke in Will.
Getting to his feet, Arrogan left the room. He returned a few moments later with two books in his arms. He placed them on the table and opened them up for Will to peruse. “What does this look like to you?”
The first was filled with colorful drawings that showed leaves, flowers and stems. Each was accompanied by a description. Will could read some of them, but many of the words were too long and unfamiliar for him to figure out. The second had lists of ingredients, along with instructions and numbers. Again, he couldn’t understand all of it, but he got the sense that they were recipes of some sort. He looked at the hermit questioningly.
“There is more information in these two books than you could ever memorize,” said his grandfather flatly. “This one, Winton’s Herbal, describes hundreds of useful plants, showing their leaves, flowers, and recording their life cycles and growing needs. The other, Gidding’s Apothecary, gives instructions for tinctures, potions, extracts, as well as specialized preparations that can be made with various plants and herbs. Does any of that strike you as useful?”
Bewildered, Will flipped through the pages. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“Why should I?” barked Arrogan. “Can you read them?”
“A little,” said Will hesitantly.
“What’s this word here?” asked his grandfather, stabbing his finger at one of the pages.
“Minim,” answered Will immediately. It was one of many seemingly useless names for measurements he had been forced to learn.
“And here?”
“Dram.”
“Here?”
“Two scruples,” said Will, beginning to feel foolish.
“I’ve been teaching you the names, so eventually you will be able to follow the instructions in these books to prepare whatever you need. To do that, you will have to be able to read these books, along with others. Your mother has already taught you how to identify many plants. Why should I waste my time repeating her lessons when you clearly need to learn the basics to progress any further?”
Will didn’t have an answer to that, so he just stared back blankly.
“Would you like to know what plant you so foolishly ingested today?” asked his grandfather.
“Sure,” said Will meekly.
Arrogan flipped the Herbal closed and reopened it at the beginning. “This table at the front subdivides plants into groups. Was the plant deciduous?”
Will nodded and answered several more questions before his grandfather pointed at the book again. “It will be here, in either chapter fourteen or fifteen. I should make you look through them, but I won’t bother. Go to page seventy-two.”
Flipping through the pages Will softly recited the numbers to himself.
“I’ll give you a hint,” growled Arrogan. “It’s between seventy-one and seventy-three.”
Will looked up sharply. “I know that!” His angry response earned him a malicious grin from his mentor. I should know better than to let him get to me, thought Will. Finding the page at last, he laid the book down and studied the picture and its description. It definitely looked like the plant he had found. It even mentioned the square shape of the stem. “Diver’s sage,” he said, reading the name aloud.
“Diviner’s Sage, moron,” corrected his grandfather. “It’s a powerful psychedelic. The early shamans used it to see visions, although personally I think they just liked feeling weird. The important thing for you to know is that it opens the mind, allowing you to see things normally invisible to the eye. For those who are already sensitive, or those who have had extensive training, that effect is permanent.”
“Oh,” said Will, unsure what to say.
“This is just one of several plants and mushrooms that teachers use to initiate their students into the arcane arts,” explained Arrogan. “I already knew you were sensitive, which is why I took you in, hoping to prevent this. But you, in your infinite idiocy, took it upon your shoulders to turn yourself into a mage. There’s no going back for you now.”
Alarmed, Will asked, “I can’t go home?”
Arrogan covered his face with one hand. “Of course, you can go home. I dream of sending you there every day. You can’t go back to being normal.”
That didn’t sound too bad. “Does this mean I can do magic now?”
His grandfather sighed. “You have several choices. One, you can go home, which would almost be a relief, because so far, you’ve been more trouble than you’re worth. If you do, I’ll start packing, since I don’t want to be around when they find you and execute you as a warlock, which is almost certainly what they’ll decide. Proof or no proof. Two, and slightly less stupid, you can go to Cerria and present yourself before the Royal Magister, Grant Haywood. He’s the idiot running the Wurthaven College of Wizardry these days. After a few tests, he’d put you in classes and eventually you’d get to be a lapdog for one of the noble sorcerers running things nowadays.”
Arrogan leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Personally, I like that option the best, since it means I’ll be quit of you and I won’t have to worry about moving.”
Will could sense the old man wasn’t finished, so he prompted him, “But…?”
His grandfather sighed. “The third option is the best for you, but a pain in the ass for me. Stay here and I’ll train you properly. The only drawback is you’ll still be an unlicensed mage, so if they catch you later, you’ll wind up in prison at best.”
“How is that better for me?” exclaimed Will querulously.
The old man grinned evilly. “Because by the time I’m done with you, there won’t be a mage alive, sorcerer or otherwise, capable of putting you in prison. I can teach you to be a wizard the likes of which even King Lognion would be afraid to face—or would, if any of the fools knew what real wizards could do back in my day.”