The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

The dice’s detection had failed. This was the second time such a situation had occurred; the first had been with little Claira’s aunt, Dorothea Tsaitkin.

’Could it be another divination Wizard? Can he still cast spells?’ Anser wondered, but it was not convenient to ask directly.

”You’re right, but their rate of progress is very fast. The current Spellscars have quite a few commendable aspects.” Italo gave a faint smile, yet his silver-gray eyes were like an ancient well, without the slightest ripple.

Anser’s gaze shifted slightly. It seemed Candlekeep’s information was not closed off; perhaps they knew something of the inside story behind the Weave’s disorder.

”Great Reader, if I may ask, what happened to the Weave?”

”I don’t know.” Italo answered very crisply, a trace of helplessness hidden within his weathered voice.

”All right.” Anser wanted to know whether the Goddess of Magic was still there, but he was not certain whose follower the Great Reader was; asking directly might offend him.

”Candlekeep is also investigating. However, after the Weave’s disorder, many of the passages leading to the Outer Planes have become extremely unstable. The Astral Plane is even more dangerous, making cross-planar travel difficult,” Italo explained.

”So that’s how it is.” Anser nodded silently.

The gods dwell in the Outer Planes. Tyr and Lathander reside in Mount Celestia; Shar is in the Abyss; the Goddess of Magic Mystra and the God of Knowledge Oghma are in the Astral Plane.

”What has brought the Great Reader here this time?” He was very curious about this.

”To obtain more revelations.” Italo’s eyes turned vacant; after saying this sentence, he unexpectedly drifted off.

Anser was helpless. This Italo spoke only half of what he meant, more like a charlatan than a scholar.

However, he had roughly understood some of it. Candlekeep had not sent troops; the Great Reader had come to investigate the situation.

Although Candlekeep was called the most difficult fortress to breach on the continent of Faerûn, its numbers were too few. It mainly relied on powerful magical defenses and the ghost of an immortal ancient silver dragon.

The magical abilities of its leadership were also formidable, but in the present day, the situation might be different; the circumstances of those powerful figures were probably not very good.

”Are you looking for me about something?” He went straight to the point, unwilling to entangle himself with a riddler.

”Yes.” Italo’s gaze focused on Anser. With a sweep of his hand, a massive tome and a feather quill floating upright appeared on the table.

”Anser, I would like to make a transaction with you. The content of the transaction is your understanding, insights, and application techniques regarding spells.”

Anser let out a dry laugh, quite surprised. ”I’m a Sorcerer. My understanding of spells is rather shallow; what I’m best at is using them.”

”Do not belittle yourself. To apply spells to the extent you have, in my decades of life I have seen only a handful.” Italo’s face was filled with a smile as he pointed to the quill. ”This arcane transcription pen can automatically record the thoughts and insights in your mind.”

”But don’t worry. It won’t pry into your thoughts or emotions—each time it records only around a single spell or topic.”

”Believe me, this knowledge is extremely important to those spellcasters who are still mired in confusion.”

A Sorcerer’s innate magic also belonged to the arcane domain. Although it differed greatly from conventional spell models, the underlying logic was similar—different paths leading to the same destination—so it had some reference value.

What was more, spell application techniques were broadly alike; these experiences could also let spellcasters take far fewer detours.

”Mm.” Anser reined in his expression, his face turning serious. ”What do I get?”

It wasn’t that he hoarded his knowledge like a broom he cherished. There was no such thing as copyright in this world, and Candlekeep was the largest knowledge monopoly.

If he taught others, what if those spellcasters turned around and used those techniques against him?

”You can ask for anything you want.” Italo’s expression did not change, as if this were a trivial matter.

”I’m lacking a lot, but it’s hard to say all at once. What can you offer me?” Anser did not feel the slightest embarrassment. Knowledge was money; no one could freeload off him for nothing.

With a sweep of his hand, Italo made several magic items appear on the table.

The subtle pulse of magic made Anser’s heart tighten. His expression stayed calm, but his eyes were full of anticipation.

”I came out in a hurry and didn’t bring too much.” Italo smiled. ”Let me introduce them. These gemstones are called Ioun Stones, and their functions differ…”

Anser knew Ioun Stones. They were stones named for Ioun, the god of knowledge and prophecy. There were many types; different Ioun Stones had different colors, appearances, and abilities.

There was the stone of fortitude with Constitution +2, the stone of sustenance that required no food or drink, and the stone of regeneration that restored Hit Point… After Attunement, one gained the corresponding benefits, and they would fly in orbit above one’s head.

The few Ioun Stones in Italo’s hand were all attribute-boosting types, offering him only a small improvement, because the attribute cap of Ioun Stones was 20.

Aside from the Ioun Stones, all the other magic items were of very rare quality, second only to legendary; each one was worth anywhere from tens of thousands of gold coins to over a hundred thousand gold coins.

Candlekeep was truly rich and powerful.

Anser picked up the ring of regeneration that could regrow severed limbs and restored 1d6 Hit Point every 10 minutes. He examined it for a moment, then set it down again.

”I hate Attunement.” He complained helplessly.

Italo smiled in understanding and nodded deeply in agreement.

”How do we calculate the value?” Anser decided to ask clearly first before considering what magic item to choose. ”For example, how much is an insight into a 1st-level spell worth? Or rather—how many spells do you want to trade for a very rare magic item?”

”One item in exchange for all the spells you have mastered, as well as your understanding, development, and use of arcana and innate magic,” Italo replied at once, clearly having thought it through long ago.

Relatively speaking, spells were of higher value; in terms of understanding arcana, no one surpassed a Wizard.

Anser decisively shook his head. ”Then at most I can give you twelve spell-slot spells, plus two cantrips.”

”Mm?” Italo was somewhat surprised and puzzled. ”Of course that’s fine.”

In his estimation, for a Sorcerer who had just stepped into the elite stage to master ten spells was already quite good.

”Then it’s a deal?” Anser probed.

”No problem. I’ll teach you how to use the transcription pen…” Italo instructed him very carefully, partly to dispel Anser’s wariness.

Anser cooperated fully. Such an opportunity was rare.

He was not certain whether a Sorcerer’s insights were valuable, but he knew that Candlekeep did not need him specifically. There were many Sorcerers in Faerûn; likely quite a few geniuses had already explored techniques for casting with Magic Power. He was merely a little ahead.

Moreover, what he was giving were basically 1st-level spells, including Command and Divine Smite—spells that Wizards were destined never to learn.

There was only one 2nd-level spell: Dragon’s Breath, which came with the Draconic Bloodline Sorcerer.

Any higher than that and he would be unwilling. He did not want others to understand him too thoroughly. In any case, 1st- and 2nd-level spells were only transitional; the research cost was low, so even if it aided a potential enemy, it did not matter.

A few minutes later, Anser sat quietly before the massive tome, his gaze focused as memories related to spells continuously surfaced in his mind.

The transcription pen danced across the book, leaving afterimages; it moved so fast it blurred, and one could only see lines of text rapidly appearing on the page—far faster than any printer.

More than two hours passed before the pen finally stopped.

Anser also let out a heavy breath and leaned back, collapsing onto the sofa.

This work was not light.

Italo gathered the massive tome and flipped through it page by page. From time to time, he lifted his head to glance at Anser, his expression changing again and again.

’Why is there Divine Smite? Why are they all 1st-level spells? Oh, there’s also Dragon’s Breath…’

Yet he still felt it was worth more than the price. Every piece of insight within was solid substance—standard, precise, and well-regulated. Perhaps not especially agile, but without the slightest flaw.

This also showed that Anser had not taken a single detour. It was simply unheard of.

After a long while, Italo closed the book with a snap, his eyes flickering uncertainly. ’Truly unbelievable. His bloodline… must be extraordinary.’

After pondering it back and forth, this seemed to be the only explanation.

He recalled the scene from the day when Anser had transformed into a dragon. The peculiar color of those scales somewhat resembled that of the legendary Platinum Dragon God, Bahamut.

”Great Reader, what do you think?” Anser asked softly, somewhat worried that the other party might go back on his word.

Italo came back to his senses and once again resumed that ancient-well calm. He praised, ”Very good. Go choose. I allow you to select two items.”

”Ah, many thanks.” Anser went along with it; he had no intention of being polite.

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