Why so glum?" Rennin asked.
Davon smiled grimly and looked out from their perch atop Clamshell Rock. It was one of his favorite haunts near Faol, a high, barren hill that overlooked the sea.
"I'm so glum," Davon responded, "because last night was awful. I had some twylah named Caramel trying to get me into bed all night. 'It's already paid for,' she kept saying."
"Wasn't cute enough?"
Davon chuckled dryly. He set one finger to the stone they sat on and traced one of the mysterious stone clamshells that littered the rock. For a moment he said nothing.
"It always comes back to the same thing, Rennin. Last evening only bolstered my doubts. Am I wasting myself here? Part of me loves Faol so dearly -- it is my home, my heart. And yet I practice magic, my true passion, as an outlaw or a mere entertaining minion of those ranked higher than myself. Last night, my magic, capable of saving lives, had to compete with cheap whores. And all I could do is sit there and think of how hypocritical Faol's laws are. How selectively they are applied. A few days past, Jannon told me I could be hung. . . hung, Rennin! for practicing magic, which I only do for the benefit of all. And last eve I saw hired twylahs, another outlawed practice in Faol. And yet there they were, in the household of a high, married man. No doubt sanctioned by the authorities of Faol. The same observation applies to both examples -- Faol's laws, I think, exist for the benefit of those in power, and no others."
"And it's taken you this long to figure that out?" Rennin sighed. "Magus, with all due respect, I think you've been long blinded by your love for this place."
"You think so?"
Rennin chuckled. "Davon, Faol might be physically beautiful, but look at its spirit! Corrupted by a class of nobles who dictate the politics of trade and law so as best to comfort themselves. Everything you stand for -- noble attitudes, generosity, helping others -- is what Faol stands against. If any place on Carador adheres to the old, unfair ways of Masalla, it's Faol."
Davon was quiet.
"I know," said Rennin after a time, "that this is home. It's my home, too. And our home gets special treatment in our heart."
"I should perform the summoning."
"What?! No, no, no. You should move."
"Move?"
"Yes. To Aranor."
"Rennin. You should know me better than that. Do you know what would happen in Aranor? I would be a mage. A mage among many. Adept, perhaps, compared to most, but nothing extraordinary. True, I might grow there, learn new things. But I wouldn't change anything. I wouldn't make a real difference. Here, I can do that, Rennin. Make a difference."
"Maybe."
Davon stood and walked to the edge of the rock, looking out over the trees. He took a deep breath of the soft wind that blew from the north.
"She could teach me, Rennin."
Behind him, Davon heard only silence. At last he turned, only to see Rennin looking up with a thoughtful gaze.
"Hire a mage from Aranor, from the school north of there -- Lysandra."
Davon squatted before Rennin and fixed him with a powerful, fiery gaze.
"In the caves, Rennin, when I went to try to rescue the miners, I knew fear. Fear, because in that not-so-extraordinary situation, my magical capabilities were pushed to their furthest limitations. Fear, because I knew that the forces around me -- the stone and the mud -- were more powerful than I. All I could do was hope to divert them for a moment. I felt fear, too, when Jannon came to speak to me. Fear, because the power of society, of the humans around me, is also too powerful. If I stay here in Faol, I live at the whim of Jannon and his decisions as to my fate. And what is left for me? To go to Aranor or Moraithe, where magic is freely practiced. And there, I shall only be one among many.
"Rennin, she can teach me. Teach me things that human mages can hardly dream of. Who knows what power she commands? And what I could do with it? What if I gained such power that Jannon wouldn't dare to confront me? I could bring the boon of magic to the common people of Faol, and turn back so much suffering and illness. Even death! Think of Casara, to the north. There, things are even worse for the peasants and common folk. Many of them must resort to herbs to cure their ills, and those who do try to help - wise women and healers - well, you've heard the stories of hangings just as often as I.
"This creature, this Kalashirana, dwells in a world that is connected to ours in ways we can hardly understand, Rennin. The demons of Lorenai are not bound by distance the way we are, due to the pathways between Carador and Lorenai. She could travel to Aranor and then to Japura and then to some province across the world in the space of a day. Can you imagine her knowledge?"
"She is a demon, magus. Evil."
"There is no such thing as evil, Rennin. Only shades of morality labeled by ourselves. The demons are not evil -- just another race, different than ourselves. A race that fell to their passions."
"Call it what you will, magus. It's all the same. She is Kaena. She feeds off of human pain. Off of the very thing -- suffering -- you wish to subdue with your magics. Do you suppose that you will subdue her, as well? Is that it?"
". . . perhaps."
Rennin shook his head. "I cannot stop you, magus. You are the master between us. But I'd beg you not to do it, and if you do, think well, and make that magical ring you spoke of, and give her no quarter."
Davon smiled. "Trust me, Rennin. I will keep her completely, infallibly, bound."