This was his first chance to live in the world instead of in a tower high above it. He had to be courageous.
Yet he felt anything but brave or sensible as he blurted, “It’s anchored to the sun.”
The handsome elf gave an amused smile. “Well spotted. Unless you happened to overhear that part?”
“I didn’t. I’m familiar with cosmomancy.” Durae gestured at the illusory script. “How this spell draws power from the sun is the source of your problem.”
“How’s that?” an elf with copper skin and goggles pushed up into his hair asked.
“Rather than absorbing the power of the sun, it’s using the strength of its relationship to it,” Durae said.
“It has no place to store excess magic if it can’t rely on the intrinsic power of sunlight because it would lose power themoment a cloud covered. So they tied it to the relationship instead.” The handsome elf tapped his chin, leaving little bits of golden light behind. “I don’t understand how that’s causing the malfunction.”
“It might be simpler if I wrote what I’m thinking?” Durae said.
The handsome elf motioned him over and offered his palm when Durae neared. Gently, Durae put his hand on the elf’s. His touch was warm, and his fingertips had a comforting roughness to them. The brush of his magic flowed upward and caused Durae’s hand to tingle. He’d given Durae permission to interact with his writing spell.
Now all Durae had to do was make his point without embarrassing himself. As he worked, he said, “You’re right that this must remain a cosmomantic enchantment. Otherwise, you’d have to rework the entire cart, even tangential enchantments to keep wheels sound and whatnot. Am I right in guessing this is the work of the Aulage family?”
“You are.”
Durae snorted. “Knew I spotted their cheap work. They think the sun is the highest source of mystical power simply because it’s closest to our planet. There are better celestial bodies, especially for this.”
The elf watched Durae write, and his smile brightened as Durae made progress in showing his idea. “Ah, that’s it! And what a clever workaround!”
“Care to inform the rest of us?” the snottier of the elves asked.
“He—sorry to assume, but he?” the handsome elf said.
“Yes, he. I’m Durae Nav—een,” Durae said. He had to hope no one stumbled on giving a fake last name. If the Aulage family discovered he was altering what was likely a proprietaryenchantment, then he would rekindle a feud that was hopefully in its last embers.
“I’m Blaze Levimist, also he.” Blaze turned to his friends. “The problem is that the enchantments act as if the cart’s relationship to the sun is fixed rather than variable. It’s like reaching for an apple from a barrel while leaning out of a carriage. You can snag one if you get the timing right, but not if your carriage is too far in either direction. The cart’s too far from the relationship point.”
“So what did our noble friend do that’s so clever?” the goggle-wearing elf said.
“I picked a barrel that remains in moving relationship with the carriage.” Durae scrunched his nose. “I’m not fond of the analogy.”
“This level of craft is hard to describe without a thousand other explanations,” Blaze replied.
“I’m impressed with your mastery. Writing this much from memory is difficult.” Durae dared to slide his gaze over to Blaze.
However, Blaze was examining what Durae had written, and he began to make corrections to other areas in the enchantment formula. His brows knitted together in concentration, and then he cackled under his breath as he adjusted another rune.
The goggle-wearing elf dragged a stool out from under the table and pushed it toward Durae. “What’re you using for a power source?”
“A planet within the wheel of our star.”
“What, in all the gods, is aplanet?” the snotty elf demanded.
“Don’t mind Greyun. An aristocrat screamed at him for an hour, and he’s decided to make that everyone else’s problem.” The goggle-wearing elf glanced into the cups near him. “Shaina, do we have an empty? Let’s share with our new friend.”
“I actually ordered—oh, there he is.” Durae started to stand to gain the waiter’s attention, but he was already moving toward him.
“Then we’ll cover the drink,” the elf said as he dug coins from a pocket.
“Nonsense,” Durae replied. He handed the waiter a gold. That had to be more than enough to cover a few pitchers of ale along with his wine, but he wasn’t certain. His parents had handled all the payments in inns during their travels. “In fact, your next two rounds are on me.”
“We don’t need your fucking charity.” Greyun glared daggers at Durae.
