Modern Magick

The Wonders of Vale: 6

Jay coughed. I suspicioned it might have been a strangled laugh. 'Torvaston is an interesting figure,' Jay quickly put in, before Melmidoc could blow his proverbial stack. 'He had some theories about the sources of magick, which are of considerable significance to us. His disappearance into your Britain is a mystery we'd like to solve.'

Why? demanded Melmidoc, all bluntness. You were well rid of him.

'Were we?'

Melmidoc made no answer.

'Because we want to restore Farringale,' I said. 'And that is because the decline of magick in our — and your — Britain can, debatably, be traced back to that approximate era. It's been withering away for four centuries and we'd like to stop it.'

I paused for breath, feeling peculiarly as though I'd just said something momentous. I hadn't really... had I?

Jay, though, was staring at me. 'Is that what we're really doing, Ves?'

'What?'

'Bringing magick back.'

I blinked, and thought. 'Yes,' I decided at last. 'Of course it is.'

Of course it was. It could never be enough simply to halt the decline of magick, though that would be a good place to begin. If there was the faintest chance we could reverse the trend entirely, and set it burgeoning again — why wouldn't we go after that? How could we resist?

Melmidoc was uncharacteristically quiet. 'Mel?' I said after a while.

You do not know where it will end, he said. He sounded, for some reason, subdued.

'Be careful what you wish for, etc. We know.'

I do not think you do.

'Then, tell us.'

But Melmidoc was silent.

'Show us, then,' said Emellana. 'The Court at Mandridore is committed to this goal. As their representative, I am scarcely less so. Why should we hesitate?'

Go, said Melmidoc.

I sighed, wearied with his obstreperous attitude. 'Fine.'

To the Vales of Wonder, Melmidoc continued. Go there if you must. You will see for yourselves.

As Torvaston had, I wondered? An excess of magick had made short work of old Farringale, that was for sure. But Torvaston would have taken those lessons away with him, when he left for the fifth Britain. He wouldn't permit such mistakes to be repeated.

Neither would we.

Jay had Torvaston's scroll-case in his hands and was staring at it, frowning deeply. 'Now that I come to think of it,' he said. 'How do we find these Vales of Wonder?'

I peeped over his shoulder. At a brief glance, which was all either of us had had opportunity for when we'd swiped it out of Farringale, it looked detailed enough. Upon closer scrutiny, though, the map proved to be hand-drawn, and inconveniently devoid of context. Or text, besides those few printed words: The Vales of Wonder on one half, and the Hyndorin Mountains on the other. These were maps of those two places, not to them.

You will find it simply enough, Waymaster, said Melmidoc. In Scarborough there is a developed henge you may use.

'Developed...?' said Jay.

Melmidoc offered nothing more.

'Right. Thanks, then.' Jay put away the scroll-case.

'One last thing,' I said suddenly. 'Melmidoc. You don't have any idea where Zareen and...' I stopped. He would have little idea who Zareen, George and Miranda were, and would in all likelihood care rather less. 'Are there any outsiders left on Whitmore? Anyone from our Britain?'