Capítulo 24: 23
Harry threw a peanut high into the air, then deftly caught it with his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully for a few moments, he swallowed and continued telling the story of recent events. He was sitting upright on a large picnic blanket, spread on top of a hill somewhere in Africa.
His gaze locked onto a herd of springbok that grazed languidly not far from the hill upon which he and his teacher sat. The group of antelope had gathered because of a watering hole not far away, and decided to stick around for the grass.
On the other side of the blanket, Marduk was lying on his back, staring at the sky, one hand holding a watercress sandwich. He chewed thoughtfully, his focus split between the story being told by his student, and an interesting cloud that he was having some fun with.
Suddenly, said cloud looked like a perfect double helix strand of DNA. His own DNA, in fact. He grinned as he took another bite.
Between teacher and student, a large picnic spread had been laid out. Now mostly devoured, it had featured a couple of very interesting things that Marduk had greatly appreciated. Things that had gone out of style and popular knowledge a long time ago, but things he had enjoyed nonetheless.
How his student had managed to dig those dishes up, he'd probably never know.
"That's when I found out I could conjure food. Of course, by then I was so out of energy that I passed out because of it. Hestia felt me pull on her domain, and came to check and found me deeply asleep. She was most upset. It took me days to get her to stop being angry with Miss Zoë and Artie. Luckily, I managed, though."
Well, that explained where he got the ideas for the dishes for, Marduk realized. A domestic deity would be able to determine a person's favorite dishes, and if Harry could pull on Hestia's domain, he should be able to do the same himself. "It must be because of that boost Hestia gave you, your boon is developing," the dark-skinned master of magic said in reply.
Harry nodded thoughtfully, his gaze changing from the herd of springbok to a solitary cape buffalo having a drink. "That's what Miss Athena thought, too. I'm just glad that I'm well enough now that I can conjure food or drink by pulling on Hestia's domain without passing out. That was embarrassing."
Marduk finished his sandwich and released his hold on the cloud, which immediately dispersed in retaliation for his meddling. "You attract trouble like honey attracts flies," he said with a deep chuckle. Sitting upright, he looked at his student.
Harry smiled ruefully. "Lots of people have said similar things," he answered. "My luck is seriously messed up, thanks to my mom. I swear, how bad does my luck have to be that one of the rarest bears in existence ate all the food in the area?"
Marduk's chuckle sounded again. "You were warned about your luck, if I recall correctly."
Harry pouted silently.
His teacher laughed again, before changing the subject. "Anyway, let's have a look at your experiment with fire. You failed completely, you said?"
The young boy nodded, slightly embarrassed. He raised his hand, and did the whole extract-hydrogen-and-make-it-burn trick again. A flash of almost-invisible orange flame was visible before added heat washed over him.
Marduk looked at it, a slight grin still playing on his lips. "I can see where you're failing," he said. "What concept of fire are you using?"
Harry blinked. "Sorry?" he asked. "What do you mean?"
His teacher thought for a few moments, and then replied, "What is fire? When you think of fire, what are you thinking about?"
Harry grinned, and said, "Fire is the rapid oxidation of a material in an exothermic chemical process, releasing heat, light, and various reaction products."
Marduk stared for a moment, and then burst out laughing. His deep, bass, voice sounded over the plains below, spooking the springbok herd for a moment and making the cape buffalo look up. "Someone has been studying physics and chemistry, I see," he chortled.
Harry nodded. "Miss Athena said that, if I am to master fire because of Hestia's boon, I need to know what it does and how it works."
The ancient mage shook his head. "And that would be perfectly valid in a normal situation. Unfortunately, you're dealing with magic, not science. Remember, Belief shapes Reality. You believe fire needs stuff to burn, so of course, it needs stuff to burn."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean? I mean, of course fire needs stuff to burn, right?"
Marduk lifted one hand. Suddenly, it burst into flames, long tendrils of yellow and orange reaching for the skies, creating flickering shadows. "When I think of fire, young Harry, I think of flames. Of heat, and light. My fire burns, but it does not require fuel. Or air. This fire can burn in the vacuum of space, or in the depths of the oceans."
Harry gaped at his teacher's flaming hand. "But… that's… that's not… I mean... how?" he finally managed to bring out.
"My concept of fire revolves around flames and light and heat, not on the underlying process," Marduk explained. "I want to conjure flames that create heat and light, and so magic creates flames that create heat and light, and yet do not require fuel or air, because they do not factor into my concept of fire."
Harry just gaped. "That's… wow," he said.
Marduk laughed again. "Concepts are important, Harry. Remember what I told you in our first lesson, how the concept of 'sleep' for some alien species is a six-month hibernation. For us, it a short rest that we can wake up from. For them, it is a six-month suspended animation. Completely different concepts. It's the same with fire. You expect fire to need fuel and air, so it needs fuel and air."
The young demigod just nodded thoughtfully. Marduk grinned. "Good. Now, stop thinking about the underlying process, and think just of flames and light and heat and try again."
Harry lifted his hand, and stared at it. He wanted a ball of fire, about the size of a golf ball, about 30 centimeters or so above his hand. He wanted it to need no fuel or air, but he wanted it to be fire and be warm and give light.
It took him some effort to shift his perception, to move away from the foundations of science that Athena had drilled into him, to ignore the fact that fire consisted of a fuel burning under the influence of heat and oxygen.
Eventually, he felt somewhat confident in his new visualization of the concept of fire, and he pushed some Shen energy at it. His awareness shifted and he could feel the energy flow out of his upper energy center, his upper dan tian, and be expelled from his body only to take the desired shape. His belief was somewhat haphazard, and he felt the magic somewhat-kind-of-maybe take shape.
Feeling success on the cusp of creation, he firmed his belief, now knowing that it not only could work, but that it would work. The spell firmed up, and the magic completed.
Opening his eyes, he stared at the results.
A soft-looking, golf ball-sized, ball of fire hung, suspended in mid-air, above his hand.
Marduk grinned. "Well done!" he said, excitedly, before leaning in to take a closer look. Then he reached over and poked the ball. It didn't just look soft. It was soft. As Marduk poked it, it was like the fluffy little ball of fire deformed, as if it were a plushy ball of fire.
"Eeeh..." Harry said, drawing out the sound, not having expected that.
"Mind your details, Harry," Marduk said. "You were focused on it looking like fire, and giving off heat and light. Well, it looks like fire, it gives off light, and from having poked it, it's warm but not hot, so you were thinking about warmth, not heat."
"Oh," Harry muttered, dismissing the fluffy and plushy ball of fire. Closing his eyes, he tried again. This time, he tried to keep in mind that he wanted it to be at the heat levels of fire, and that he wanted a ball of fire, not a plushy ball that looked like fire, and so forth.
For a simple ball of flames, the amount of detail was quite substantial, he found, and he had trouble keeping his wants straight in his mind.
Finally, he managed, or thought he did, and cast again.
The ball of fire that resulted looked a lot less soft or plushy and a lot more like an angry red-yellow ball of fire was supposed to look. Small yet distinct flames reached up from the conjured ball, making it look like an actual campfire in rounded shape.
"Well done!" Marduk complimented. "You shifted your perception, and changed your conceptualization of fire and succeeded! Very well done, indeed! It usually takes new students longer to get to this point!"
"Thanks, Marduk," Harry said, somewhat bashfully, while staring at his latest achievement with a wide grin on his face. Finally, he turned to fully face his teacher. "How is it that magic doesn't follow the laws of physics?" he asked, curious. "I mean, fire that burns without fuel or air, that doesn't follow the laws of physics, how does it do that?"
Marduk flicked a couple of strawberries (with cream!) into his mouth, and chewed slowly, using the action to straighten his thoughts.
"Well now, that is an interesting question, with an equally interesting answer," the ancient wizard said. "The Akashic Records show that plenty of beings, from the dawn of the universe, have been looking into the relationship of magic and the laws of science."
Harry blinked. "Oh," he finally said.
Marduk grinned. "Yes. 'Oh' is a good description," he answered, teasingly. "Basically, from what has been found by myself and all the others who have gone before me, magic came first. The fundamental forces postulated by the laws of physics came afterwards, as if born from magic. Basically, Magic trumps Science, as Magic created Science."
Harry blinked. "I… don't think I understand," he replied, after giving it careful thought. Apparently, even Athena's boon had its limits.
Marduk nodded. "That's understandable," he said, gently, looking back up the sky. "Alright, I'll put it like this. How about a story?"
Harry blinked at the apparent non-sequitur, and was about to reply when Marduk pressed on regardless.
"Physics tells us the universe was born in a Big Bang. What came before that Big Bang, nobody knows. According to physics, fractions of a moment after the Big Bang, there was a unified, fundamental force. This unified force split, fractions of a fraction of a moment later, separating gravity. Then, again, a few fractions later, the strong nuclear force separated, triggering the proto-universe to expand rapidly. Then, the weak nuclear force and electromagnetic force separate, and the universe assumes the current laws of physics. That's what science tells you, correct?"
Harry nodded hesitantly. He wasn't that interested in this kind of thing, but Athena made sure his education was well-balanced, and so he had at least heard of these events. Even if it was just in passing.
Marduk stared up a cloud for a few moments, then said, "From what I, and the others before me, have been able to determine, the universe was born of magic. Magic is what triggered the Big Bang. Magic filled the universe, as magic created it. And magic is what gave the other so-called fundamental forces their properties. We don't know how or why, that is the realm of speculation and metaphysics."
Harry gaped. "So magic..." he trailed off, not knowing exactly what to say or how to continue.
"Magic is what the fundamental forces of the universe wish they were," Marduk said with a deep chuckle.
"That means that belief will change reality because belief relies on magic, which can override the laws of physics," Harry said, thoughtfully, after a few moments' contemplation.
"Exactly," Marduk said with a grin. "Of course, your belief still has to go up against the belief of others. So while magic can, in theory, make the laws of physics a bunch of silly little suggestions, you still need to contend with the fact that you may be going up against the solid belief of millions, if not billions, of others."
Harry nodded, remembering that bit. "So where do the gods fit in?" the young boy then asked. "I mean, there's science, the world that most people think we live in. And then there's magic, the world we really live in. But where do the gods fit in?"
Marduk grinned. "The gods you're thinking of, like your Greek gods, the Norse gods, the Hindu gods, and so forth, they all came about because of humans."
The young demigod blinked. "How so?" he asked, surprised.
His ancient teacher rolled on to his side, so he could look straight at Harry. "Remember, belief shapes reality."
"So gods came about because people believed in them?" he asked.
Marduk nodded. "Essentially, yes. All right, story time again. First of all, belief, and the stability it creates, is kind of like gravity. The further away you get from the source of the belief, the weaker its influence becomes. Correlating to this, the less sapient people there are in one place, the less stable reality becomes, as less people means less belief. This means, in essence, that reality becomes easier to manipulate."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. That made a twisted sort of sense.
"All right, now, let's take your Greek gods as an example. At the time they came to be, the human population is something like 10 to 15 million, worldwide. Less people around, and less formal education, means that there isn't a lot of belief in the sciences. Back then, people believed all kinds of things, so of course, belief shaping reality—"
"Means that reality back then was really different from our reality now," Harry said.
"Exactly," Marduk confirmed. "Now, imagine that you have a village of some kind. Say, fifty to a hundred people, which is a fair bit of people when the global population isn't that large."
The young boy nodded, so Marduk continued his story. "Now, one evening, they're all gathered around the bonfire in the central square, or circle, or whatever town center they have. And someone has an idea."
Marduk grinned, and pointed up. "It's night, and he points to the moon, and invents a story about a goddess called Artemis, who drives her chariot across the sky, her chariot being the moon. As he tells the story, and re-tells the story, it starts getting fleshed out, and people actually start believing him, and then it spreads, and before you know it, you have enough people believing the story that bang, suddenly there's a goddess called Artemis whose chariot is the moon."
Harry gaped at his teacher.
"Essentially," Marduk said with a wink. "Of course, it didn't happen that fast, nor that of-the-cuff, but that's essentially how every god and goddess came to be. Someone tells a story, another retells it, and suddenly there's a religion and enough people believe to make it a reality. Gather enough people and get them to believe hard enough and anything can happen. Especially when there aren't enough people around to keep reality stable. With a small enough total population, reality becomes really malleable. That's also the reason why tales of ancient magic speak of things we can only dream about doing now, and why things happened that seemed so implausible."
"Huh," Harry managed. "That… makes sense. I guess." He stared at a cheetah stalking the herd of springbok that had returned after Marduk spooked them earlier. "So humans created the gods, not the other way around."
"Exactly."
"Then how come some are still around? I mean, I don't think a lot of mortals still believe in the Greek gods, for example," Harry said.
"The Greek gods were smart and tied themselves to the concepts of Western Civilization; just imagine how many modern buildings look like Greek temples. It's tenuous, though, and no matter what they want you to believe, they're nowhere near as powerful as they were 2000 years ago," the dark-skinned teacher explained.
"Oh," Harry said, again. He was starting to get used to the fact that Marduk kept upending his worldview with each answer he gave. It was almost enough to make a boy stop asking questions.
Almost. If said boy hadn't been insanely curious and willing to learn.
"Is that how gods die?" he asked.
Marduk nodded. "Exactly, Harry. When people stop believing in those gods, their power fades, and eventually, they themselves fade away. In the 200,000 year history of mankind, more gods and deities have been forgotten than people remember today." He sighed, somewhat sadly. "The deities I grew up with, the gods and goddesses worshipped by the community I was born in, have completely passed from human knowledge. The way of life I knew when I was your age, it's completely gone."
Harry suddenly felt so intensely sorry for his teacher that he started to reach out and grab the man's hand. Just as sudden, Marduk shook his head, and grinned. "But that's just an old man pining for 'the good old days'," he said with a grin. He reached over, and ruffled Harry's hair. "Don't feel sad, my boy. Humanity is always progressing."
Harry offered a smile, glad to see his teacher not being down for long. "What you said about gods fading – is that what happened to Mister Helios? I can still feel him, somewhat, in his temple, though."
Marduk nodded, and turned to lie flat on his back again, a long piece of grass suddenly between his teeth. "Exactly," he replied. "People stopped believing in him, or there weren't enough people that still did believe in him, and so he faded away. Just as the word implies, fading means slowly dying away. Maybe there are still enough worshippers around to keep him in a discorporated state."
"Does that mean we can bring him back?" Harry asked, excitedly. "Infuse him with a bunch of belief somehow?"
Marduk laughed loudly. "Harry, the age of the gods has mostly passed. Maybe you can convince a couple hundred thousand or so people to start believing in Helios again, but you may as well try to convince people that there are two large moons. Get enough people to believe that and it'll come true, too."
Harry pouted at his teacher's response.
Marduk chuckled and ruffled his hair again. "Your heart is in the right place, Harry. However, at this point in time, it would take a substantial amount of belief to reincorporate Helios. And don't forget, getting him corporate again is one thing. You have to get those people to keep believing or he'll fade again."
Harry just pouted harder.
Marduk laughed.
Harry decided to ignore his teacher laughing at him and focused on the cheetah instead. It was close to the herd of springbok now, and the young boy felt the curious dichotomy of both not wanting the big cat to hurt the springbok, and wanting it to succeed at the same time.
The cat, unaware of Harry's moral quandary, sprang into action and chased one of the springbok. Harry immediately sat up straighter, all thoughts of morality forgotten, and just watched nature in action as the cheetah leaped at its prey, only to hit rock hard dirt as the springbok made a sharp turn that doubtlessly pulled many G's in cornering force.
The cheetah, panting deeply, had exhausted its short burst of available energy, and slowly moved off with its proverbial tail between its legs. Harry felt bad for it now; the magnificent cat would go hungry.
"Nature in action," Marduk said, apparently having sat up as well to watch the spectacle.
"Kill or be killed?" Harry asked.
His ancient teacher nodded. "Exactly. It's a harsh world we live on."
The young boy nodded, still thinking about that cheetah and the springbok. He hadn't wished hurt upon either of them, but in the end, the cheetah had to eat.
Shrugging off his thoughts about nature's cruelty in action, the young demigod turned to his teacher, and asked, "You know, we've been talking a lot about gods and stuff, instead of magic."
Marduk grinned and ruffled Harry's hair. "That's because I have a very inquisitive student who asks some very interesting questions. In addition, I will give you exercises and concepts, but it is up to you to develop magic. The way I do magic is suitable to me, but may not be suitable to you. If I start giving you step-by-step instructions, then I am limiting you in the ways magic can be used, and I would be no better than the wand-wavers."
"Cake-mix, right," Harry said, recalling the analogy.
Marduk laughed. "Exactly!" he cheered, ruffling the boy's hair again, and ignoring the pout he received in return. "Now, any other interesting questions?"
The demigod thought for a few moments. "Regarding gods," he said, thinking his question through. "The Greek gods, I mean. You said they weren't as powerful as they were 2000 years ago. How does that work? And are there gods that are still really powerful?"
Marduk nodded. "Good question," he said, thinking. "There is far, far more to it, of course, but basically, the power of a god, and the breadth of that power, come down to two things. One, the number of followers a god has. Two, how deep said followers believe in that god."
Harry nodded thoughtfully, that made sense.
"Alright," Marduk said, conjuring a rectangular block of wood. The sides were perfectly straight, and every corner came in at straight angles so that the narrow ends were perfect squares while the larger sides were perfect rectangles.
"It's a bit like this," Marduk said, shifting so that he was facing a patch of dirt next to the picnic blanket. Harry hurried to sit next to his teacher. "This is a very crude example. It's never this neat and there is more to it, but this is the basic concept," he explained.
Harry nodded, listening eagerly.
"A god, basically, is a nexus of power created by the focused belief of that god's followers," the ancient wizard told his student. He ran his hand over the ground, evening it out and creating a sandy surface that was easy to manipulate. "Imagine that this patch of sand is the three-dimensional world that we live in."
Harry nodded.
"This block is a representation of a god," Marduk went on to say, placing the block on the sandy ground. "Now, as far as the standard person in the world is concerned, the only thing he can see is the impression made by the god on the world." The wizard pointed to the side sticking up. "Most people can't behold the power inherent in the god because it extends into a higher dimension. That's also the reason why, if a god throws off their human shape, and display themselves as they really are, most people will die."
Harry blinked, he'd known that a god displaying their full form would kill a mortal, but now he understood why. And it made a twisted sort of sense, he supposed. Show a higher dimension to a person and they'll likely end up dying of a heart attack or a brain aneurysm or something.
"Let's circle back to your original question," his dark-skinned teacher said, removing the block and wiping the sandy patch clean.
"Imagine if you will, god A. God A has a thousand followers. Those followers are sort of, kind of, wishy-washy about their belief in god A, but they do believe. This means god A has a large breadth of power, but not a lot of depth to it. Like this," Marduk said, putting the block on the sandy patch with a rectangular side down and the square side sticking up.
"God A has a thousand followers, so he has breadth," Marduk said, pointing to the long sides and the rectangular side on the ground. "But because his believers don't believe that deeply, he can exercise his full power only a few times before exhausting himself and needing to rest," the ancient teacher went on, pointing to the short side sticking up.
Harry nodded. He got that. A god's power was the focused belief of their followers, and said belief was in a higher dimension, invisible to the people in the standard world. Which could kill mortal people if a god displayed it to them.
"Now imagine god B," Marduk said, taking his block off the ground, leaving a rectangular impression on the sand. "God B has a hundred followers. However, they are fanatical zealots. Their belief is so absolute that they can't ever imagine not worshipping god B."
Marduk put the block on the ground, next to the rectangular impression, but he did so upright, with the small square side down and the long rectangular sides sticking up.
"God B, because he has less followers, has a small breadth of power. But because said followers are deeply religious, he can exercise the full force of his power all day long and not need a rest, basically," Marduk finished by removing the upright block, leaving only the rectangular impression and the square impression behind; the impression of that god on the mortal world.
Harry looked from one impression to another. "But people don't believe the same," he said.
Marduk smiled widely and nodded. "Exactly!" he said, pointing at the boy. "Exactly the point I tried to make! It's more heavily involved than that, but it's the basics, as I said. The more people believe in a god, the more power a god can bring to bear at once. The deeper those people believe, the more often that god can exercise that full power without exhausting himself and needing to go rest."
"That makes sense," Harry muttered.
"Now, your second question, are there gods that are still really powerful?" Marduk said, thinking. "Yes. Yes there are."
When he said nothing more Harry pouted at him. Marduk chuckled. "There are many pantheons that still have a lot of active worshippers. Be careful of them, Harry. Be very, very, careful. Hinduism, for example, has an extreme amount of active worshippers, and quite a lot of very devout ones. Some Hindu Devas and Asuras could take on the entire Greek pantheon by themselves."
Harry swallowed.
"There are agreements, though," Marduk said. "Pantheons have agreed geographic regions and try not to intrude on another pantheon's territory. So don't worry about other the Hindu Devas, or even the Asuras, unless you were to go to India."
The young bow frowned. "What does that mean? Deva and Asura?"
"Again, there is more to it, but basically, Devas are benevolent deities, and Asuras are the malevolent deities," Marduk explained.
Harry just nodded in understanding. For a few moments, they were silent, and Harry conjured another golf ball sized ball of fire, this one a lurid shade of purple that had absolutely no correlation with nature or physics whatsoever.
Marduk chuckled. "Now you're getting it," he said. "As long as you have the mental image, and the proper concepts, magic can make real anything you can imagine. Well done!"
The young boy grinned, but the compliment and his response broke his concentration and the fire faded out.
"That's something we will need to work on," Marduk said. "Keeping your focus is incredibly important. Here, your fire faded and it had no real consequence, but imagine you were holding up a bridge and your concentration broke just as people were crossing it."
The demigod winced at that mental image. "I have some exercises I will give you before you leave, you can practice them on your own," the ancient magic-user said. "They're mostly exercises on meditation and focus, but they'll help you maintain your concentration."
Harry nodded and conjured a new ball of fire, this one a kind of hot pink.
Marduk laughed. "I think that color is colloquially known as 'sex toy pink', Harry. I don't know where you encountered it, however," he said, teasing.
Harry blushed to the roots of his hair, and the ball of fire wavered for a few moments, but did not fade.
"Well done!" His teacher crowed. "Well done indeed!"
Keeping his focus on his sex toy pink ball of fire, Harry glanced at his teacher from the corner of his eye. "How about God?" he then asked.
Marduk blinked. "Which one? We've talking quite a bit about various gods this afternoon."
"The God. You know, God," Harry said. "Where does He fit in?"
Marduk looked at his young student for a few moments, and then sighed. "You don't ask the easy questions," he said with a grin, thinking for a moment.
Finally, he said, "I'm of the personal opinion that a teacher should never force their beliefs on a student. As I can't prove or disprove anything, I will just say that the God, singular, is in the realm of metaphysics and personal faith, and leave it at that."
"Oh," Harry said.
His teacher, seeing the disappointment on the young boy's face, added, "It's a matter of personal beliefs, Harry. We don't, and probably can't, know for sure. That's why it's called 'faith'. And as I said, a good teacher should never foist their personal beliefs on a student."
The young demigod nodded.
"Now," Marduk said, grinning at the sex toy pink ball of flames, "we'll need to work on your inability to maintain focus, as well as on your ability to make things permanent. A ball of fire you need focus to maintain can be handy in certain situations, but having a way to create a permanent ball of fire would like be even more useful."
The young boy nodded eagerly.
"Okay," his teacher started. "The first thing to be aware of is the difference between temporary and permanent magic. The first is what you've been doing, and it's basically an illusion. An auditory, visual, sensory illusion, but still an illusion."
Harry blinked. "Just an illusion?" he asked. "So I couldn't really hurt anyone with it?"
Marduk grinned. "Make your illusion hot like fire and you can burn people with it," he said. "At some point, even an illusion can hurt and kill. But yes, since it is temporary, I call it an illusion. It's not real, insofar that real things don't disappear when you stop thinking about them."
Harry nodded thoughtfully, processing the statement. "Like that example you gave of making something invisible? Because you made an item invisible as a property, it'll stay invisible even if you don't think about it?"
The dark-skinned man grinned widely. "Exactly like that, Harry. Illusions, temporary magic, can be incredibly potent and incredibly dangerous – make your illusionary bullet real to the touch and it can kill someone as readily as a real bullet will. And it will vanish when you stop thinking about it, which will confuse mortal authorities like nothing else."
Harry gaped at the man for a few moments. "Personal experience," Marduk said with a grin. "Now, the difference between temporary and permanent magic is how they're constructed," he explained further without giving Harry a chance to ask questions. "Temporary magic comes from you, and your own power. Your focus shapes it, your power forms it, and as long as you maintain the two, the illusion will hold. Permanent magic breaks down to either of two things. It's either a property, or an effect."
Harry let go the personal experience bit, and focused on what his teacher was telling him. "A property or an effect?" he asked.
The ancient mage nodded. "A property is something you can assign to an item, something that, once changed, is permanent unless dispelled. Like changing an item's color or weight. Or turning something invisible, which is basically saying 'no color'."
Harry nodded obediently and silently, listening attentively.
"An effect is more difficult, as it requires a constant influx of energy to produce," Marduk lectured. "For example, making an item float. In order to float, an item must produce lift to counter gravity."
Harry frowned. "But you said that weight is a property," he replied. "Doesn't that mean you could just say 'the weight is zero' and have an item float?"
Marduk grinned. "Assigning a weight of zero to an item will make it fly off with the slightest breeze, which isn't really what you want when you want an item to float."
The young boy nodded haphazardly, thinking that one through.
"Alright, example time," Marduk said, seeing he had lost his student. "It's like this." He grabbed two nearby stones. They were shaped differently but seemed to be more-or-less of the same weight, and he placed them between himself and his student.
"I will make this stone float," Marduk said, pointing to the stone on his right. The stone obediently floated into the air and hung there, suspended. The ancient wizard pushed it, and it obediently floated to a new location, before hanging where it was. "It still has weight, called 'mass', and will therefore stay where it is when placed somewhere. Because it floats, it will be in the air, but it will stay where it is unless moved."
Harry nodded. That seemed straightforward enough.
"Now, I'll take this stone, and assign it a weight of zero," Marduk said, pointing to the remaining stone.
The stone stayed where it was, until it was picked up by a passing breeze, was taken into the air, and rapidly pulled away from them. "Now, you could say stone two floats, but the practical effect of that was very different from what you expected when you said 'make it float', am I right?"
Harry nodded as he looked after the second stone, which tumbled through the air, tossed about by a playful breeze, until it vanished from his sight.
"The first requires an influx of energy to counterbalance its weight and make it float," the teacher said. "The second did not, but the practical use of it is limited. I can move the first stone where I want to move it, because it floats in the traditional sense, then dispel the magic and float it into position. It's handy for moving large and heavy objects. Or for making floating cities, but those are rather ostentatious and modern people will probably try and shoot them down."
Harry stared at Marduk. The black man grinned and went on as if he didn't notice. "Now, a permanent effect magic would, you'd expect, require you to constantly feed it power to maintain said effect. But, the trick here is to anchor the magic into magic itself, rather than into your own personal reserves. In effect, you want the magic to anchor itself; cast the spell using your own reserves, and then anchor it into magic itself, effectively having it maintain itself without your constant attention."
"That sounds complex," Harry muttered.
"It takes a certain deftness of mind to do," Marduk agreed.
Harry was silent, digesting his next lesson. His teacher didn't interrupt him, and resumed his cloud watching.
"You said magic overrode the laws of physics," Harry suddenly said. "Does this mean you can make an item float by dismissing gravity from it?"
Marduk turned his head and grinned. "You can certainly make an item except from gravity," he replied. "But the results will be far from what you expect. Antigravity isn't what mortals think it is."
"How so?" the young demigod wondered.
"If you think that stone with zero weight disappeared quickly when caught by an errant breeze, you'd be surprised how quickly an item completely excepted from the laws of gravity would vanish," Marduk said with a grin. "Useful in certain situations, sure, but again, not the effect you're hoping for."
"Oh," Harry answered. That made sense, somehow.
They fell silent again, and Marduk went back to his cloud watching. That one looked like an anaconda devouring a zebra, he thought. If only anacondas lived in areas where there were zebras. Oh well, it was his imagination, and if, in his imagination, anacondas ate zebras, then that's just what they did. He was pulled back to reality when Harry asked his next question.
The young boy had created a new ball of flames, this one a psychedelic kaleidoscope of colors that had no business being assigned to a ball of fire. "How do I make something permanent?" he asked.
"Basically," Marduk said, sitting up to face his student, "you need to give it a twist. Change the source of power feeding into it, from yourself to magic in general."
"Huh," Harry said, trying to imagine something like that. He did get it. "How do I do that?"
Marduk grinned. "I can tell you the what, not the how," he answered, calmly. "You were unusually quick on the uptake with getting magic to manifest, and this is your next hurdle. Most people have their own way of visualizing magic, so you'll need to figure it out for yourself, I'm afraid. Also, don't be discourage if it fails on you. Magic can be slippery when you try to make something permanent, so it may take you a while and quite a few tries to get it to stick. Once you have it figured out, though, it's easy."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. This was going to be a tough one. He had been doing magic by using the concept of Shen from the martial arts books, but nothing in his studies so far had prepared him for assigning a spell to magic itself.
"So once I have that figured out, that's all there is to it?" Harry asked, turning to look at his teacher. "You said it would take me decades to learn to do magic this way."
Marduk grinned. "Oh, the boy has figured out that he can stand by using his hands to pull himself upright and by leaning against a wall, and now he thinks he can run the hurdles," he said, laughing softly while Harry pouted. "Ah, the over confidence of youth," the ancient mage continued, chuckling.
Looking back at his student, he said, "no, young Harry. No, that's not all there is to it. You've barely managed to create a ball of fire, an element you have an unusual affinity with thanks to your boon from Hestia." He created a glass, and plonked it down in front of the demigod.
"Oh, Harry, I am so very thirsty. Won't you conjure me some water?" he asked, in an over-the-top playful fashion.
Harry bit back a grin, amused at seeing his teacher over-act like crazy. He turned serious and focused on the glass.
He tried doing the same thing he did when he conjured fire – imagining the glass full of water, adding in temperature, and then pushing Shen energy at it. The glass was suddenly full of water.
"Now stop focusing," Marduk said, his grin teasing. Harry looked up from the glass, and immediately the water vanished. "Try it again, this time without using an illusion," Harry's ancient teacher said, gently, yet still grinning.
Harry flushed slightly. Focusing again, he tried to condense water from the outside air. The result was like an incredibly localized raincloud, dripping water into the glass at a glacial pace.
Marduk threw an arm over his eyes and pretended to sob. "Oh, how unfortunate I am, to be cursed with a student who can't even provide a drink for his thirsty teacher!"
Harry let out his breath in a gasp, and the cloud immediately dispersed. The glass had a bit of water in it, but it wouldn't even be a mouthful to him, let alone a grown man. He looked displeased. "Water's hard, especially if you have to make it permanent," he whined.
Marduk grinned and raised an eyebrow.
The young demigod looked away. "Point taken," he muttered. "Magic's hard."
His teacher grinned and ruffled Harry's hair. "Every student reaches a point where they think they know everything," he said. "Don't worry about it."
"I could have just drawn on Hestia's domain and gotten you a glass of water, though," the demigod said, still pouting slightly.
"But you didn't," the ancient man replied. "Yes, it would have satisfied the task I set, but it wouldn't have taught you anything. You're smart enough to realize that, or you wouldn't have done it."
Harry just nodded slightly.
"Good," Marduk went on to say. "Now, conjuration is a step up from illusions, almost like an intermediary step between non-permanent illusions and permanent magic. A pure element is the easiest to conjure. Basically, you are converting energy into the physical element, rather than shaping your energy into an element."
Harry frowned, and thought that over. "The first is an illusion because it's my energy that looks and feels like the element, but it isn't, while the second will actually create the element itself?"
"Exactly," Marduk said, proudly. "Good work. Just realize that the second will take more energy to do – it's easier to shape a chunk of energy into fire, or water. The second will mean you need to provide enough energy to basically create the element you're conjuring."
"E equals mc squared," Harry muttered.
"Kinda sorta," Marduk said with a grin. "Doing a straight conversion like that would mean you need the energy output of a major country to create a single glass of water. No, what you need to do, like with permanent magic, is to draw upon magic for the energy you lack yourself. The more you do it, the more you can draw at once, and the more you can conjure. Again, straight elements are easier. Conjuring complex items or organisms means tapping into the Akashic Records to provide the details you yourself don't know."
Harry nodded. "Like that lion you created last time," he said.
"Exactly," Marduk answered with a grin.
Before his teacher could speak again, Harry asked, "Does that mean you can bring back dinosaurs? If you create enough of them, I mean?"
Marduk laughed. "Let me tell you about an experiment I ran on some arctic island," he chortled. "Some thousands of years ago, I wanted to preserve the Wooly Mammoth, so I created a population on some remote arctic island. I think it's in Russia these days. Anyway, it went well at first, but the population imploded soon after."
"Aww," Harry said, feeling sad.
Marduk shrugged. "Things happen for a reason, and I guess it was their time to go extinct. Theoretically, yes, I could resurrect a species, create enough different individuals and have them go at it, but my experiment with the Wooly Mammoth shows that magic sometimes has side-effects."
The young boy just nodded. "Now," Marduk pushed on, "before you distract me again, and since we're almost done for the day. Here's an exercise for you to practice. Homework, if you will. Also, don't worry if you don't get it at first, it can take a long time to get right."
Harry nodded quietly, and his teacher went on. "I want you to close your eyes and try to feel for your magic."
Harry nodded again; he was confident he would get that step fairly quickly, considered he could see his own internal energy pathways. In essence, he probably only had to focus on his upper energy center, his Shen Dan Tian.
"Once you have a solid feel for your own magic, try and feel outside of it. Beyond it. That will be the magic that is out there, in the universe. It will be wild, untamed, filled and shaped with the belief of every sapient being. Feeling it is the first step. The easy step," Marduk explained.
"Using the energy is the second step, and it will be the hardest one. External magic is wild and untamed, as I said. It will feel like it is alive and has a mind of its own. Maybe it even does, nobody has been able to determine that one way or the other."
Harry nodded once more, not nearly as confident of this part as he was of the first.
"You said this was an intermediary step," the young demigod finally said. "Does this mean that permanent magic is even more difficult?"
Marduk offered a small grin. "Conjuring plain elements, fire, water, air, they're easy. Conjuration goes up in difficulty the more complex you get. Permanent magic is a bit like more complex conjuration – only, instead of creating a physical object, you're creating a permanent effect through magic." His grin widened slightly. "Start with conjuring some water. Or a gas. That will take you long enough to do. Learn to stand up by yourself without holding yourself up against a wall. We'll have plenty of time to go over 'walking' and 'running' later."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. It sounded like things were going to get difficult really soon.
0000
Harry entered Helios' temple through the front door, holding a few bags from the market. His thoughts were still with his magic lesson, and he felt like takeout rather than cooking.
"Hi, Mister Helios!" the demigod greeted the large statue. Helios' presence wrapped itself around him, like a hug.
Stopping in front of the altar, he opened his bags. "I've got a nice crispy rotisserie chicken, grilled vegetables, and fries," he told the statue as he opened the various containers and drew on Hestia's domain to conjure an empty plate.
The faded god's presence definitely approved, and the food Harry put out for him vanished before Harry even had a chance to repack his containers.
After repacking everything, Harry looked up at the statue. "I'm glad you enjoyed the food, Mister Helios," he said. "Time for me to get some food, too."
Helios' presence gave him another 'hug', and the demigod walked deeper into the temple, his mind with the magic lesson again. As he entered the kitchen, he was looking at a small ball of fire that hung, suspended, over one of his hands.
"This is going to be hard," he muttered to himself, dispelling the fire and putting the bags on the counter. As he turned around to grab some cutlery, he noticed that a golden envelope was lying ostentatiously in the middle of the table.
Picking the golden envelope up, he opened the flap and retrieved a card. A burst of laughter was drawn from his mouth.
"Can I laugh, too?" Hestia asked, suddenly right behind him.
Harry startled, letting out a small yelp with her sudden appearance. The Goddess of the Home giggled at his reaction.
"Hestia?" the young demigod asked, immediately giving her a hug. "I didn't hear you come in," he said, pouting.
"I was already here, waiting for your return," she offered. "You were deep in thought and walked right by me," she added with a teasing lilt to her voice.
Harry flushed.
"Now, can I laugh, too?" she asked again, smiling at the envelope still clutched in his hand.
Harry, glad for the change of subject, held the envelope out to her. "Hermes invited me to participate in A study in the execution of various non-deterministic algorithms next week," he explained, having a chuckle.
Hestia let out a giggle. "Hermes is taking the idea of a maths party and running with it, I see," she said with a laugh.
He just shrugged. "It's an idea that stuck, I think," he replied with a grin. "Besides, it sounds better than 'gambling night'."
Hestia nodded thoughtfully. "That's very true." She looked at him, appearing worried all of a sudden. "Are you being careful? Gambling can be addictive."
He hugged her again. "The guys are great, and it's just a bit of fun. They treat gold like poker chips, so I'm doing the same. That way, it's not like we're gambling for real money. Just gold-colored poker chips."
Hestia snorted a laugh. "Only you would treat a small mortal fortune in gold as 'poker chips'," she told him affectionately. "Now, I believe you bought food at the market. You should eat before it goes cold."
Harry grinned, put the envelope down on the table and dove for crockery and cutlery. "Would you like some too?" he asked.
"I will just conjure something for myself," she promised, taking a seat at the table. "I'm just curious to see what you bought."
Harry laughed as he filled his plate. "You probably already know, you being the Goddess of the Home," he replied as he turned to take a seat.
Hestia shot him an impish smile and winked at him, causing him to laugh. It felt good, being able to joke with Hestia. It felt right.
Still smiling, he dug in, happy that things between them were finally back to normal between them.
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