to become one with that power again.
Before he could stop himself, he began trying to shred it once more. His heart sped up, complicating matters. It took him multiple attempts, and several minutes before he was able to stop, able to slow his racing heart, and examine the orb passively again.
There was, in fact, a larger hole now. No longer a simple pinprick, it had become the size of a very small stone. Less than half a centimeter, he estimated. But it was larger.
It had not increased in size when he tore at it. As he’d suspected, it had done so when he’d probed lightly, gently.
He tried again, this time, however, he only felt around at the opening, not allowing the minuscule flow to penetrate him. He could see the power this way, but it would not affect him. It was almost painful, but after a few minutes, he had clearly increased the size of the gap. Now it was more like a whole centimeter in diameter.
He took a shuddering breath, the deepest since he’d begun the meditation, and opened his eyes. He was shocked to find a platter of obviously cold food near the door, and darkness.
He had worked for hours, and had only slightly increased the power flowing free of the webbing. Still not enough to do anything useful, beyond letting him concentrate more deeply, and speed up the healing of his wounds. He let out a sigh of disappointment and frustration.
It would take time. And patience. And unfortunately for the Sorcerer, he had neither.
Chapter 5
No matter the weather, his duty was never-changing.
When he had first been chosen by his predecessor to become the Baron-Administrator, he had been deeply honored. He was, after all, one of only fifteen in all the city.
Years later, he still wondered if in fact the old man had been punishing him for some long-forgotten slight.
Tonight it was pouring rain.
He walked along with a pair of constables in tow, his usual rounds. His cloak was drawn tightly around him, to ward off the wet and slight chill. He was starting to find inclement weather such as this more and more bothersome as he aged.
The trio reached their destination, a street corner, and the tall encased lantern there.
The Baron-Administrator stepped up to the lantern’s post, while his constable guards kept watch, to be sure none interrupted his duty.
He shook his left wrist, let the chain fall loose, a key on its end. He took hold of the key, and reached for the lock on the lantern post.
He turned the key in the lock, and heard it click. Pulling at it, he heard the small compartment door squeak open, long in need of lubrication. Something else he would have to attend to someday soon, lest it interfere with his duty.
He could nearly perform this activity with his eyes closed, now. He reached to the holster at his right hip, and withdrew the long firestick.
He shifted his weight, and reached the firestick into the compartment with his right hand. He felt the trigger on its top with his thumb, and began to roll it back and forth. In a moment, the tip ignited into a small flame.
With his left hand, he reached into the compartment. Before him was a small circular hole and a fist-sized knob above it. He reached the glowing firestick into the hole with his right, and with his left hand turned the knob clockwise.
As per usual, he heard the whoosh that was the sound of the flame catching, and spreading across the circuit.
He glanced up to the lamp above him, and watched as it began to glow. He turned his head right to look down the street, and watched as each subsequent lantern ignited along the avenue, one by one.
He released the trigger of his firestick, and withdrew it from the compartment. With a despondent squeal, he closed the small door, and turned the key until it again clicked. He removed it from the lock, and shook his wrist to allow the chain to slide up his sleeve.
He had let his hood fall back some when he’d checked the