At the conclusion of his training under Clem, Garland is set to receive another spell from his wizened master. He asks specifically for the spell called, Teleport without Error and he presents the magister with the Black Unicorn's horn as a gift. The two of them are in the richly appointed study of the master, situated as one of the top floors of his tower. It boasts a panoramic view of Peakshadow.
Clem does not reach for the horn and his eyes narrow at the sight of it.
"You ask for a magical formula which is jealously guarded by those enlightened few which can perform it. I am shocked by your brazen request, but I am more intrigued by this gift you offer."
He stands up and crosses to the nearest transparent wall, which would appear as solid stone to those outside of the tower.
"Surely, your time among the roguish denizens of this great city would have told you how this horn could be used to make a potent poison. Most certainly, the warriors you traffic with -- in all your farflung adventures -- would tell you how it might be fashioned into a lance of no little ability."
The wizard pauses and leans over a bit at the waist. He stares at some activity in the streets far below, momentarily distracted by whatever it is. Perhaps a minute passes as the clock which marks the passage of time, drip drips from its spout into the basin beneath it. Finally, Clem straightens and continues.
"Yet, you intend to make an offer of it to me... a mere miller." His use of thieves cant for wizard does not escape Garland's notice.
The wizard turns and views Garland fully.
"I find your choice... strange, and somehow... endearing," he pauses before continuing. "Perhaps your pursuits of thievery and of skill at arms are your second and third considerations, afterall." He chuckles softly, "And to think all this time that I considered you a student of divided loyalties."
He raises his hand to stop Garland from speaking, and continues.
"My spies tell me that you have moved into newer quarters in the inner city. Your... ahem... business interests seem to be flourishing, so I find it hard to believe that you are impoverished. This leads me to think that your gift is one of mere sentimentality -- a weakness, to be sure, but not necessarily a moment worth spurning."
"Very well, I accept your gift and offer one of my own."
He crosses to a small shelf in the middle of the room and pulls out a weighty tome. It appears to be bound in strange leather with a curious faintly glowing thread, the name plate reads, Lucio's Locomotions of Legerdemain.
"I took this spellbook from a Provincial hedge wizard who had grown too big for his breechcloths. I believe pages 82 through 88 will have what you seek."
As Garland rises to leave, Clem speaks again, "Ah, return the book when you are done copying the spell."
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