Free The Dragon Society (Obsidian Chronicles Book 2) by Lawrence Watt-Evans Page A

turned his attention to the row of three trunks that stood against the wainscotting to the left of Enziet's desk. According to the inventory, these chests contained sorcerous apparatus—Ferrezin had not been any more specific than that.
    Ferrezin had not dared to open them.
    Sorcery did not generally require much in the way of apparatus. Sorcery was subtle. The Lands of Man, all the lands that had been taken from the dragons centuries ago, were poor in magic, and required that subtlety. In the lands beyond the borders, places like Arithei and Tirikindaro and Pon Ashti, magic ran wild, raging across the sky and flowing through the earth, and all the power a mage could want was there for the taking; in fact, Aritheian magicians Arlian had spoken with had explained to him that the hardest part of wielding magic in their homeland was restraining the sheer raw energy that would, if given any leeway, destroy or transform the magician and everything else in the area. Roads and cities in Arithei had to be protected by elaborate networks of wards and cold iron to keep wild magic in check. Silver and iron and certain stones, not just amethysts but a variety of gemstones, were used to contain the wild magic, and spells involved the use of a wide variety of symbols and talismans to bind the mystic energies.
    In Manfort, though, and throughout most of the Lands of Man, there was so little magic that most people could not sense or use it at all, and the delicate art of sorcery had developed to exploit the tiny trace that remained Anything that would restrict the flow of magic would be useless in sorcery, and anything that might confine it would be impossible to use with any frequency. Most sorcery relied on the sorcerer's own skill, and a few common objects.
    It took a normal man's lifetime to learn to coax any significant effects from so limited a resource—but because dragonhearts lived many times longer than normal men, many of them were adept in the sorcerous arts. Enziet had been very adept indeed. He had used sorcery in this very house to communicate with the dragons in their caverns—but the only visible tool he had used for that, according to the only witness Arlian had heard describe the feat, was a bowl of water. He had maintained spells of warning and protection, but those had required nothing but words, gestures, and the stones of the house and wall to anchor them.
    What, then, was in the chests?
    Arlian took from his belt the ring of keys that Ferrezin had provided, and knelt before the first chest, eyeing the lock. He lifted an oil lamp down from the desk and turned up the flame to provide more tight.
    The lock appeared ordinary enough, but sorcery was usually invisible. Arlian debated sending for Thirif or Shibiel or Isein, or perhaps inviting a local sorcerer to take a look at it, to see whether there might be some sort of sorcerous trap—but that would take too long.
    Pawing through dozens of incomprehensible notebooks had left him impatient, and after all, he did have the key, and Enziet was dead. Sorcery was delicate work, so delicate that much of Enziet's lesser magic might well have died with him, and Arlian certainly could not sense anything magical about the lock.
    Besides, he simply did not think Enziet would have bothered with traps. It did not seem his style.
    Arlian judged the size and shape of the keyhole, then looked at the three dozen keys to find one that would fit.
    There were several that looked possible, but Arlian chose one immediately, for a very simple reason—it was black iron banded with silver, where the others were brass or steel. Iron and silver were protections against magic.
    Sure enough, the key slid easily into the lock and snugged tightly against the wards; when Arlian turned it he heard a satisfying series of clicks, and the hasp sprang free.
    No magic manifested itself; whatever protective sorcery the trunk might have had placed upon it either was gone or had yielded before the key.