two bears in the nearby Savernake, Twilight walked the agog Desmond around the mighty sarsens, giving a brief outline of each venefical inhabitant. When they finally came to Merlin’s great Obelisk they sat down.
‘And yours will be the next one?’ asked Desmond.
‘Yes, just there,’ replied Twilight, pointing to the spot.
‘I counted ninety-nine stones. You are the one hundredth Wessex veneficus?’
‘Yes, a tradition stretching back ten thousand years with my death in seventy-seven years’ time. I will repeat to you the words my teacher said to me when he first brought me to this place.’
Twilight tapped the great Obelisk stone at his back, and his dark eyes flashed a tall image of the long magus in all his silver-haired glory.
‘He said, ‘We stand now among the epic echoes of thousands of years of human folly and imagery and their mighty attempts to cease its restless quest for death; we stand among the frailty of sorcery in the face of the vitality of warfare; we stand among the bones of the few who have given their all to halt the spread of evil; we stand among those who understood, enchanted, transformed, moved, reshaped, and changed . . . yet seemingly made no difference.’’
Desmond Kingdom Biwater was silent for a while as he absorbed this.
‘I want to be a veneficus like you. I will make a difference,’ said the flaxen-haired entertainer finally.
‘It cannot be so,’ replied Twilight.
‘Why not?’ There were instant tears in his eyes.
‘Because you do not have an aura.’
‘I’ll get one from somewhere, anywhere . . . what is it?’
‘An aura cannot be ‘got.’ True venefici are born with it. A potential veneficus has to have a signature aura in order to understand the enchantments and be able to manipulate phenomena. That is how we identify each other and the next one chosen—the tyro veneficus or novice wizard—for training to be the next in line. It is an underlying power pulse with a unique signature to each holder. This signature, in a lesser form, extends to the animals in ligamen to each veneficus—in my case the pica—and also to any images that the astounder places. My pica can detect any images I have placed because my unique aura will surround the image. They can also detect the auras of others. If it’s any consolation to you, my own children do not have it and neither, as far as I can tell, does anyone else in Wessex.’
The boy looked glum.
‘So there is absolutely no way that I can become a tyro wizard.’
‘No . . . but there is something else that may interest you, something not far removed from the full role.’
‘What is it,’ said the lad eagerly, his face brightening up instantly.
‘My wife, Rawnie, a high-born girl with a sharp perception, told me recently that I need a companion. Someone to share the considerable burden of venefical decisions with. Someone with judgment, a good worldly understanding of people and the issues that matter to them, someone with an affinity with animals who . . .’
‘It’s meee . . . I want it, say I can be that person, say it, Mr. Twilight, oh please say it . . .?’
He looked at Twilight with his blue eyes shining.
‘It could be you . . .’
‘Yesssss. Yes, yes, YES.’
Desmond leapt to his feet and went on a merry dance around Merlin’s Obelisk stone, flinging his hands in the air.
Twilight, chuckling at his antics, continued.
‘Just a moment. There are some things you need to know that may change your mind. Your life will be in constant danger. You will come into contact with the most virulent, violent, bloodthirsty, obsessed, and, as I found out only a few days ago, rabid killers of innocent people on this turning earth. And you will not be popular with common folk. They will always view me, and by association, you, with suspicion.’
‘You sound as if you don’t want me to be your companion.’
‘It is important that you understand what you are getting into. This veneficus business is
‘And yours will be the next one?’ asked Desmond.
‘Yes, just there,’ replied Twilight, pointing to the spot.
‘I counted ninety-nine stones. You are the one hundredth Wessex veneficus?’
‘Yes, a tradition stretching back ten thousand years with my death in seventy-seven years’ time. I will repeat to you the words my teacher said to me when he first brought me to this place.’
Twilight tapped the great Obelisk stone at his back, and his dark eyes flashed a tall image of the long magus in all his silver-haired glory.
‘He said, ‘We stand now among the epic echoes of thousands of years of human folly and imagery and their mighty attempts to cease its restless quest for death; we stand among the frailty of sorcery in the face of the vitality of warfare; we stand among the bones of the few who have given their all to halt the spread of evil; we stand among those who understood, enchanted, transformed, moved, reshaped, and changed . . . yet seemingly made no difference.’’
Desmond Kingdom Biwater was silent for a while as he absorbed this.
‘I want to be a veneficus like you. I will make a difference,’ said the flaxen-haired entertainer finally.
‘It cannot be so,’ replied Twilight.
‘Why not?’ There were instant tears in his eyes.
‘Because you do not have an aura.’
‘I’ll get one from somewhere, anywhere . . . what is it?’
‘An aura cannot be ‘got.’ True venefici are born with it. A potential veneficus has to have a signature aura in order to understand the enchantments and be able to manipulate phenomena. That is how we identify each other and the next one chosen—the tyro veneficus or novice wizard—for training to be the next in line. It is an underlying power pulse with a unique signature to each holder. This signature, in a lesser form, extends to the animals in ligamen to each veneficus—in my case the pica—and also to any images that the astounder places. My pica can detect any images I have placed because my unique aura will surround the image. They can also detect the auras of others. If it’s any consolation to you, my own children do not have it and neither, as far as I can tell, does anyone else in Wessex.’
The boy looked glum.
‘So there is absolutely no way that I can become a tyro wizard.’
‘No . . . but there is something else that may interest you, something not far removed from the full role.’
‘What is it,’ said the lad eagerly, his face brightening up instantly.
‘My wife, Rawnie, a high-born girl with a sharp perception, told me recently that I need a companion. Someone to share the considerable burden of venefical decisions with. Someone with judgment, a good worldly understanding of people and the issues that matter to them, someone with an affinity with animals who . . .’
‘It’s meee . . . I want it, say I can be that person, say it, Mr. Twilight, oh please say it . . .?’
He looked at Twilight with his blue eyes shining.
‘It could be you . . .’
‘Yesssss. Yes, yes, YES.’
Desmond leapt to his feet and went on a merry dance around Merlin’s Obelisk stone, flinging his hands in the air.
Twilight, chuckling at his antics, continued.
‘Just a moment. There are some things you need to know that may change your mind. Your life will be in constant danger. You will come into contact with the most virulent, violent, bloodthirsty, obsessed, and, as I found out only a few days ago, rabid killers of innocent people on this turning earth. And you will not be popular with common folk. They will always view me, and by association, you, with suspicion.’
‘You sound as if you don’t want me to be your companion.’
‘It is important that you understand what you are getting into. This veneficus business is
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