Murder in Cormyr Read Free Page B

bane of ours. On the contrary, the cats were polite, even affectionate to me now that I was no longer a stranger, and I enjoyed their company, once the feeding and milk-drawing was finished.
    True to his word, Benelaius tutored me for at least an hour each day, in the midmorning after I had finished washing the breakfast dishes and airing the beds. He was pleased
    to find that I already knew how to read (my mother had taught me), and he covered many subjects, of which wizardry was never one. I asked him why, one evening as we sat together by the fire, drowning comfortably in our sea of cats.
    “Best not to know those things,” he said. “Though the study of wizardry was my making, it also proved to be my downfall.”
    “What?” I asked. “I thought you retired from the College of War Wizards. Were you really kicked out?”
    He summoned up enough energy to scowl at me. “No, my leaving was my own choice. I had had enough of magic. The downfall I mention was due merely to my own… dissatisfaction with magic.”
    “Dissatisfied? Why, I’d think it would be great to be a wizard. All you have to do is just wave your hand, say a few magic words, and presto, you get whatever you want!”
    If you did not mark my naiveté in the preceding speech, be certain that Benelaius did. “That’s what you think, is it?” He gave a tsk-tsk and shook his craggy head. “Even the smallest spell, Jasper, takes great knowledge, greater preparation, and even greater energy. The power of magic saps you, drains you, and enchants you until you go to great magical lengths to do even the simplest things, tasks that would take you an iota of the strength to physically do yourself. I’ve seen it happen to others, and I found it happening to me.
    “I decided that I would engage my mind in other interests—stop and smell the roses, if you will. And when I did, I found the natural world and its laws a delightful contrast to that of the supernatural. Over a period of months, I determined that I would give up magic unless its use was absolutely necessary, and live as others did—the natural life, studying and writing of such things until my knowledge
    of them became as great as it is of wizardry.
    “I told my fellow War Wizards of my decision to leave their noble company. Some thought I was a fool. But others, like Vangerdahast, Chairman Emeritus of the College of War Wizards, and Royal Mage to King Azoun himself, thought me wise to follow my will. So I searched for a quiet place far from Suzail, where the War Wizards congregate, and here I am.”
    I still didn’t get it. “But doesn’t it get boring? I mean, I always thought that Ghars was the dullest spot in Cormyr, and after being a War Wizard and fighting battles and all, how can you stand living here?”
    He rubbed Grimalkin’s ears until the cat purred. I was starting to be able to tell the cats apart now. “Not all War Wizards see battle. I mostly conducted research into how to make spells more efficacious, and often worked healing spells when wounded warriors were brought back from the front line. Personally, I detest violence…”
    He did too. He seldom ate meat, and would do so only in order not to insult a guest who had brought along food and drink. We had a good many of those, mostly wizards come to see their old friend. Once even Vangerdahast paid a surprise visit. I laid as low as possible, fearful that the stern and powerful old man would turn me into a slug if I were to pour a drop of tea into his saucer instead of his cup.
    Afterward Benelaius confided to me that Vangerdahast often paid surprise visits to retired wizards, War Wizards in particular, just to let them know that he still had his eye on them should they intend to use their wizardry for evil ends. But when the Royal Mage took his leave of Benelaius, I heard him say to my master, “I know I need not keep track of your doings, old friend, but were I not to plague you as well with a visit, all other wizards might