Two : Nailing Jelly to a Tree
Everything always takes twice as long and costs four times as much as you planned.
—programmer's axiom
"I dunno," Wiz sighed again and drained his wine cup. "This isn't working out anything like I thought it would." He set the cup down and leaned toward Bal-Simba, elbows on knees.
"Look, I took the seat on the Council because you wanted me to. I'm not a wizard, I've never been a politician and those meetings are torture."
"Your position and power entitle you to a seat."
"Yeah, but I've got important work to do."
It was Bal-Simba's turn to sigh. He did so gustily and the bones of his necklace clattered with the movement of his barrel chest. "Sparrow, listen to a poor fat old wizard for a moment.
"You talk of finishing your spell engine. But that is only half your task. The other half is teaching others to use it and the largest part of that is getting them to accept it."
Wiz toyed with the cup, running his finger along the rim. "I suppose you're right. I never was any good at teaching. I guess I need to try harder."
"Perhaps it would be more to the point if you tried to understand how others feel. Your task is difficult. But you make it more so. Your attitude does not make you friends, either on the Council of among the other wizards and that adds to the hostility against your methods. Specifically, you do yourself no good at all when you belittle the Council."
"I don't belittle the Council!"
Bal-Simba arched a brow. "No? But your work is more important."
"Well . . ."
"Sparrow, the Council of the North has stood for centuries as the shield of humans against malevolent magic, both from the Dark League and from the World at large. It is the closest thing to a ruler this land has."
Wiz nodded. "Look, I'd be the last person to deny you and the other wizards have done a heck of a job. But magical programming changes things. As soon as I get the compiler perfected and get to work on the spells, anyone will be able to use magic. There won't be a need for a Council of wizards to guard and protect humans."
Bal-Simba shook his head. "Sparrow, much as I admire your directness I think it leads you astray. But even if what you say is so, we must still get from where we are to where you wish to be. To do that you need the cooperation of all wizards, especially the Mighty and most especially the Council. You do not get someone's cooperation by telling him he is obsolete and his life's work is outworn."
"It would be easier if some of the Mighty would learn to use the compiler. But they're all so dense."
"Wizards do not have the reputation for being stupid," Bal-Simba said with deceptive mildness.
Wiz sighed and rubbed his eyes. "You're right. Stupid isn't the word for it. But they don't generalize. You guys learn one thing at a time and you can't seem to work from a bunch of specifies to a general proposition." He shook his head. "And a lot of programming is generalization."
"Nonsense!" came a firm voice from the doorway. Wiz and Bal-Simba turned to the sound and saw a tall theatrically handsome man in wizard's blue. His silver hair swept over his ears in carefully arranged waves to perfectly set off his aristocratic features and evenly tanned skin.
Bal-Simba nodded. "My Lord Ebrion."
Wiz stiffened, but he also nodded politely. Dammit, I will not lose my temper.
"The essence of magic is in the particular," Ebrion said in his beautifully modulated voice as he came into the room. "To control magic we must understand this tree or this fire, not these 'classes' you keep on about. All trees are not alike, Sparrow, and it is only by deeply perceiving an object that we may control it magically."
Wiz kept quiet. He had enough trouble with Ebrion and his traditionalist friends already. Like all the traditionalists, Ebrion didn't like Wiz. Unlike most of them he made no secret of his dislike beyond a certain cold civility. Worse, he was a theoretician, or the closest thing to a theoretician of magic this world had ever produced. Wiz's success had thrown him into the shade in his own specialty and that made him dislike Wiz all the more.
"Magic is both organic and particular, Sparrow," Ebrion went on as if lecturing an apprentice. "The best magic cannot be built up from bits and pieces like a jackdaw's nest. It must be conceived of whole."
"Wiz's method seemed effective enough against the Dark League," Bal-Simba said quietly.
"Lord, I have never denied that the Sparrow ranks among the Mighty, but sheer talent does not make his theories correct."
He waved a hand dismissingly. "Oh, I will admit the trick of constructing a demon to recite his spells for him is useful—albeit it was not unknown to us before. But his notion of how magic works?" He shook his head.
"The compiler is a lot more than a spell-reciting demon," Wiz interjected.
"So you have told us repeatedly. But at bottom that is all it does, is it not?"
"No, it's a compiler written in a threaded interpreted language that . . ."
Ebrion touched his fingertips to his forehead, as if stricken with a sudden headache. "Please Sparrow, spare us one of your explanations. You have told us this 'compiler' demon recites the spells you create and that much, at least, is comprehensible."
Wiz started to protest and then clamped his jaw. Ebrion wasn't interested in explanations and he wasn't any good at making them.
"Anyway, you're wrong," he said sullenly. "I don't have any talent for magic. Any one of the Mighty can sense that."
"We can all sense that you do not have our kind of talent. But you have shown us that you have enormous magical ability. What you have not shown us is that your system works. To do that you would have to teach others to make magic with it, by your own admission."
"So I'm a lousy teacher," Wiz said, nettled.
"For over a year you have dwelt here and tried to teach this marvelous system of yours. Have any of us mastered it? Has anyone but yourself learned it?"
"Programming takes time to learn. You didn't learn magic overnight did you?"
"No, but with a few-months study I was able to perform certain useful spells. Your pupils work and work and can do little—and that poorly."
"You've got to learn the basics and work up."
"No Sparrow, this 'general theory of magic' of yours is an illusion. You must learn one spell at a time. You must practice every gesture, every word, understand every influence. One spell at a time, Sparrow." He looked down at Wiz and smiled mockingly.
"That is how magic is made."
Wiz ground his teeth. He remembered one of the first classes, back when he was still trying to teach wizards in groups. The lesson was to construct a simple apparition spell, the rough equivalent of the "hello world" program in the C computer language.
Of course, the point was no more making a form appear than the point in C program was to put the words "hello world" on a computer screen. It was to familiarize the magicians with the basic workings of the magic compiler. Slowly and carefully, Wiz led his class through the fundamentals of his program for constructing magic spells. Then he asked each of them to make the spell with the compiler.
With a disdainful flick of his wand, Ebrion had created a shape that was ten times as real as the shadowy blobby forms the other students were struggling to make through the program.
"That is how magic is made," he said in a condescending tone as Wiz and the students stared at his result.
"The theory works," Wiz ground out. "Or did I just imagine taking on the Dark League?"
"Once again, I have never denied you were powerful," Ebrion said, as if repeating a simple lesson to a very slow pupil. "You attacked them with the completely alien magic of your world and overwhelmed them with spells they had never seen before. Thus you established your power. Surprise is ever an important weapon, Sparrow. As for the rest of your power, it would be a simple matter to put it to the test."
Ebrion meant a contest of wizards. Superficially it was a fair way of determining who was the better magician. But there were tricks to such contests, just as there were subtleties to any kind of competition. From apprentices to wizards of the Mighty, all magicians practiced against each other for sport. The only experience Wiz had in such a contest was when he had inadvertently gotten into a duel to the death with the second most powerful wizard of the Dark League. Only Bal-Simba's intervention had saved him.
When he saw Wiz would ignore the implied challenge, Ebrion went on. "You have taught us some new tricks and given us some important insights and for that we must thank you. But they do not amount to revolutionizing the practice of magic, nor do they sweep away all we have done here for hundreds of years. Magic is as it ever was, Sparrow."
"Except that the Wild Wood isn't pushing into human lands any more," Wiz snapped. "The Dark League isn't one step from throttling the entire North and the common people have a defense against hostile magic. You and all your traditions couldn't do any of that!"
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Wiz was sorry. Ebrion's head jerked back as if he had been slapped and he blanched under his tan. He turned his back on Wiz and addressed Bal-Simba.
"My Lord I came merely to tell you that I will be leaving the Capital for Mountainhame on the morn and to inquire if there was some service I could perform there for you."
"No, nothing." Bal-Simba said.
"Then I will take my leave of you, Lord." And with that he bowed and left the room, ignoring Wiz completely.
"That was ill-done, Sparrow," Bal-Simba said as soon as the door had closed behind Ebrion.
"I know, Lord," Wiz said uncomfortably. "Do you think I should go apologize to him?"
Bal-Simba shook his head. "Leave him for now," he rumbled. "Perhaps when he returns you should speak to him."
"He was trying to get under my skin."
Bal-Simba frowned. "Get under . . . ah, I see what you mean. So he was, but you let him and that gave him the advantage of the encounter. You must learn to control yourself better."
"I'll try, Lord," Wiz said uncomfortably.
"Let us hope you succeed," Bal-Simba said. "You have students soon, do you not?"
"Yipe. I'm already late!"
"Go then, Sparrow. But remember what we have discussed."