The sixth grand art was called thaumaturgy, or more simply magery. Using the twin laws of sympathy and contagion, mages could produce models through which their rituals could be employed to control or change the thing being modeled.
The easier form of the art, known and low magery, involved using charmed dolls to control animals or people, to inflict injury and curses, or even to heal. Animate beings were the most malleable to the laws of sympathy and contagion. It was relatively easy to manipulate living beings, and far less taxing on the mage.
Yet despite its application in healing and animal husbandry, practitioners of low magic had a bad reputation. Deserved or not, the practice was often viewed with a certain suspicion for the other things that could be done using a subject’s donated substance. Though low magery produced better results, people were more comfortable relying on alchemy for healing.
However, the much harder practice of high magery—controlling the inanimate—was more respected—and often less illegal. Though they weren’t actually different arts, just different applications of the same art.
Teams of high mages working together could transport small mass across large distances—or large across small—change the landscape, aid in the construction—or demolition—of buildings, accelerate crop growth and revitalise depleted soil, or manipulate the weather.
If a way to do something wasn’t magical, it was mechanical or muscle powered. Electronics was entirely unknown, its role entirely supplanted by enchantment.
Thus technology of the world hadn’t advanced beyond steam, gaslights, and gunpowder. It hadn’t needed to. Steamships plied the seas, steamtrains crossed the landscape, and zeppelins were kings of the air.
Augmentation though the arts of alchemy, enchantment, and magery that lent technology a steam–punk atmosphere. The exact demarcation betwixt machine and magic was not clear. The six arts were the technology of their world.
Genma, however, persisted in thinking of them in his own terms.
Genma hadn’t been interested all that much in learning enchantment. Though various enchanted devices were undoubtedly useful, he felt no need to learn how to make them himself; just to use them.
Divination—being able to know things that it wasn’t otherwise possible to know, to see distant events, to find the hidden and lost, to delve into the past, to predict the future, to discern truth, to read minds, or to communicate with other diviners—hadn’t held any great fascination for Genma; except when he pondered means to avoid its use.
Alchemy had briefly held a great deal of interest for him. That was until he discovered that the ability to turn lead into gold had simply made gold only slightly more expensive than lead, though more common. It still cost an overhead to transmute, but gold was both more decorative, and much less toxic, than lead. Still, streets weren’t exactly paved with gold, but it had replaced lead as lining in plumbing.
The real wealth in alchemy came from potions and politics. Alchemy could give substances properties which would not occur naturally. You could make a decent living practicing alchemy, but it wouldn’t make you instantly rich. It took a great deal of time and effort.
Likewise, so did producing the models and maps, attuning the representations to the true thing, and performing the rituals of magery to use them. Though greatly respected, high magery required great effort to master; and practitioners of the easier forms of low magery were watched suspiciously by law enforcement officers—mostly for the uses of the art which Genma found most appealing.
Summoning had its attractions, until he learned that a summoner had to impress his will on the summoned being by a battle of wills rather than strength of body. Even contracts with familiar beings required that respect to be maintained. Fail and, at best, the summoned being would not respond—and at worst rage out of control or turn on the summoner. Powerful summoners were greatly respected and feared, but not for just what their summons could do for them, but for what they could do to them, and to anyone unfortunate to be around, when they lost control.
Invocation—or Evocation as it was becoming more commonly known—now, that was a Grand Art to which a martial artist could relate. Bending a single element to his will held interest, but the more versatile and focused, form known as sorcery seemed best to Genma.
However if there was one thing Genma was in the performance of martial arts, it was eclectic—taking the best from every style, using whatever came to hand, always improvising. The school was called Anything Goes for a reason. He saw no reason not to treat the six arts the same and learn something of each—or rather, for Ranma to—and incorporate them into the school.
Divination was the most common art, with many otherwise talentless individuals at least claiming some sensitivity. However, most claimants could only get results slightly more reliable than chance guessing alone. Only the truly gifted received certification, though these were still more common than any other art.
Genma was smart enough to figure out he faced a dilemma right off. Anyone skilled enough to teach would most likely be able to divine his intentions; it only stood to reason. Of course, these were pure—to ensure his son was the most skilled practitioner of arts martial and magical—but he couldn’t expect everyone to agree with his methods. People just didn’t understand the sacrifices he was prepared for Ranma to make.
Which is why his discovery of “Divinations for Dummies” was a great boon for his brilliant plan. He devoured the text to learn its secrets so he could pass them onto his son.
Meanwhile, Ranma learned the basics at school in the remedial class and was greatly motivated to catch up and get out. Not everybody could learn, but for someone with sensitivity for it not to have by his age, was deemed a great embarrassment.
He saved up his allowance and purchased his first personal crystal to celebrate graduating to normal classes. Keeping the piece of enchanted quartz safely hidden in its padded silk pouch under his clothes, he became an avid listener of thoughtcasts on the etherealnet. Soon afterwards, Genma was greatly encouraged by his success as a tutor.
Learning the other arts was somewhat more involved. Basic divination was the foundation of each—providing the necessary sensitivity to attune to the arcane forces—but to go beyond those basics needed more than an instruction manual or junior schooling.
It required finding an instructor.
This wasn’t anything new for Genma. He already had a plan worked out for stealing–er, learning–secret techniques from dojos and temples in the old world. It required no great adjustment to implement this plot; he simply had to find the right marks.
Genma figured he could get Ranma some instruction while he performed menial labour. There might even be secret scrolls he could—uhm—borrow. It worked well enough in temples and dojos, surely it would work well enough in a magician’s lab? It would involve a little deceit, but promises were made to be broken.
(Posted Thu, 21 Jan 2010 09:05)
Questions? Problems? Suggestions?
Send a mail to addventure@bast-enterprises.de
or use the contact form.
らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
All other series and their characters are © by their respective creators or owners. No claims of ownership of these characters are implied by the authors of this Addventure, or should be inferred.
The Anime Addventure is a non-profit site.