Rezo sighed and closed the gigantic tome, placing it back on the massive table with others of its kind. Wearily he sank back into the deep armchair, massaging his temples with his fingertips. How long had he been sitting there, searching through those manuscripts? It felt like an eternity.
Ye gods, I'm exhausted. But, tired as he was, he couldn't sleep. There were too many matters that demanded his attention - and that was assuming he wanted sleep. He tried to avoid it; his dreams had been less than pleasant, ever since...
Ever since....
He shoved the surfacing memories aside, locking them away before they could crystallize and become clear.
Of course, the gnawing guilt didn't help matters much, either.
He hadn't been wholly honest in telling Zelgadis that there was absolutely no way to give him what he wanted. But to Rezo's mind, telling him the truth would probably have caused even more trouble. What the boy wanted was the means to be powerful, after all, and power always had a price....
But Zelgadis was too caught up in his dream; all he would hear was that there was a possibility...and would more than likely blame Rezo for holding out on him - for deliberately keeping him from the magical ability he so desperately craved.
For the umpteenth time, Rezo wondered just why it was that the boy had no capacity for magic in the first place. After all, it certainly seemed to run in the family! Neither was the child lazy. No, he studied with a fervor that bordered on the obsessive. He simply lacked the inborn gift, the intangible trait that allowed some humans to call on the forces that governed the worlds.
But to give it to him - to force that doorway open, that was closed in him - yes, there was a way.
But it's incredibly dangerous...even if he agreed--and he would, trusting soul that he is; he thinks I can overcome any magical obstacle - no, even if he agreed, I would risk losing the person that is my grandson.... The priest's hands trembled slightly, before closing convulsively into fists.
If I imbue him with the capacity to use magic, he will cease to be Zelgadis.
That was the plain and simple truth. If the human body did not have the ability to access magical forces, then the only way to overcome that obstacle was to get a different body.
However, it was impossible to alter only the physical structure - at least with any magic he knew of. Everything was touched in some way, subtle or no - body, mind, all. It was almost like making a copy; the same difficulties were inherent. Not always did the new body possess the same mental characteristics as the old.
Hellfire. 'Not always'? How about never.... And to do such a thing to someone other than oneself - a mind that could not be present and assist in the working of the spells - is even riskier.
How odd, Rezo thought detachedly, that Zelgadis placed such implausible faith in his magical skills even though he could not cure his own deficiency.
His expression hardened, his brows lowered and his mouth set in a thin, painful line. What a farce the whole situation was! For both of them, all the magic and lore in the world was useless. A powerful mage, and an unbelievably gifted swordsman...and they both amounted to nothing. Suddenly, he felt close to weeping - an intense longing for home washed over him, momentarily robbing him of breath. He felt his weariness increase tenfold, and wondered what had possessed him to ever leave.
Another dead end, at any rate. What am I even doing here? All the searching he'd done, all the searching he supposed he had left to do, seemed such a waste of time. He knew, with bone-deep certainty, that he would never find what he was looking for - for himself, or his grandson. Apparently, neither of them were destined to find contentment. He was here because he refused to admit defeat, nothing more. He was tired, frustrated, heartsick, and he felt so empty....
There was no way the boy would ever convince him to go through with it. He had refrained from telling him the truth simply because he was afraid that Zelgadis would be infuriated at his refusal, and blame him for his unhappiness. His grandson's rejection, above all, was something Rezo did not want to chance. He had managed anger and resentment thus far...but he never wanted hatred. Zelgadis was all that he had left...even though he still had no idea how the lad had managed to track him down in all of his wanderings. Everyone else had been left behind long ago, left behind and lost forever.
Lost....
He had left too many things unfinished, and he was so tired.... It is high time that I resolved something in my life, for good or ill.
Rezo rose slowly, and reached for his staff. He knew where the boy could be found - he could sense his aura even from miles away. How that was so, he could not tell - there were not many whose presence he could ever feel, no matter how much they may have meant to him personally.
If I knew, perhaps I would not be sitting here alone. He focused once again on the beacon of his grandson's spirit, and pushed all second thoughts from his mind. Briefly, he wondered what he would do if Zelgadis did turn on him. But the renewed longing for a familiar place was so strong, he knew what his destination would be regardless of the outcome.
I'll just have to wait and see.... He caught his mental turn of phrase, and smiled wearily.
However, it was not his eyes he though of as he smiled, but another voice - a touch, a feeling that he had left far behind and long ago. Maybe, just maybe, they were still waiting for him somewhere....
Rezo walked out of the library, locking the door behind him for the last time.