The scratch closed up in the back of my contact like magic. Like magic. A wave of vertigo washed over me. I held the sting of the sink until eventually it handed. Then, very rigorously, I rinsed my blood out of the material and watched the darkish water trickle down the drain. I wrung the water out and hung the rag to dry. My wound had healed. Like magic. since it used to be magic. Magic within me. I by surprise considered Dewara’s purpling face and bared enamel. Had Duril’s lead shot killed the outdated guy? Or had he been demise at the same time he attacked me? I recalled back the thundering of my center and the seething of my blood. I poked on the concept that I had killed Dewara with magic. I didn’t very like it. I took a deep and steadying breath. The evening’s experience and the load of the revelations I had got had left me starving. I took a loaf of the still-warm bread and a small crock of butter to the desk. I stuffed a mug with the inexpensive ale that my father saved for the servants. Then I pulled out a chair and sat down with a sigh. For a little while, I simply sat within the dim stillness, attempting to come to grips with what I had discovered. there has been not anything new in what Dewara had informed me. His phrases proven the fears that had grown in me for the final 4 years. I had now not formerly visible the reality since it used to be now not a Gernian fact. To somebody like my father, the issues I had skilled have been easily no longer actual. If i attempted to provide an explanation for them to him, he might imagine me a liar or a madman. What had I received this night? What had Dewara’s dying acquired me? Duril had overheard what Dewara had stated. Duril believed me. at the least I had that. I sliced off the crusty heel of the loaf, unfold it with butter and took a chunk. the straightforward, normal nutrition was once convenience to me in a time whilst my international looked to be distorted past attractiveness. I chewed slowly. I swallowed and took a deep draught of the ale. The mug made a small, cozy ‘thunk’ as I set it again at the desk within the dimly lit kitchen. Magic used to be the province of the uncivilized international. It was once the feeble and untrustworthy weapon of people too primitive to create the expertise to grasp the wildlife with engineering and technology. Magic, I had constantly believed, was once compatible for trickery or small conveniences, yet lifeless on a wide scale. The little spells and charms I’d identified approximately have been convenient yet scarcely precious. The ‘keep quick’ appeal was once an instance: it may well keep a guy from having to prevent and tighten his cinch. That was once to not be pressured with a real invention or actual know-how. whatever so simple as a pulley or as subtle as a procedure of pipes that fed water into our condominium used to be real human innovation. these have been the issues that lifted mankind from the squalor and sweat of day-by-day toil. Thoughtfully, I reduce one other slice from the loaf and buttered it slowly. repeatedly, I’d visible know-how defeat magic. Iron might ruin magic simply by its presence. Iron pellets killed the windwizard. Dewara blamed the weak point in his magic from having been shot through my father with an iron bullet. I’d witnessed a small metal blade bringing the Dancing Spindle to a unexpected halt.