On the opposite side of the Round, between the sorcerer’s guild and the now-abandoned psyban guild, was the thaumaturgist guild, which was my next destination. Thaumaturgists and enchanters have a long history of working well together. Granted, there were sometimes overlaps and rivalries between practitioners, but generally, the two guilds got along well.

  Thaumaturgists used a unique condition of magic that involved similarity and dissimilarity. I didn’t understand it, but they could create types of magical objects that could act over distances, not unlike some of the work enchanters did. Thaumaturgists also tended to focus more on strictly offensive or defensive magics with little interest in the subtleties of general or miscellaneous enchantments or the creation of permanent magical objects. Still, there was enough in common that our guilds worked well together.

  The guild hall was designed around bilateral symmetry but in an odd configuration. One of their mantras was, “As it is above, so it is below.” Their hall is built to resemble a reflection, like a mountain reflected in a great, clear lake. The top of the building was the reflection of the bottom. To enter the hall, you had to locate and walk up an invisible staircase that led to the center of the front face of the building, where one of two reflected entrances could be found. The entrance doors always had one that faced right side up, and the other was upside down, so you had to bend down to open the knob.

  The first trick was locating the invisible staircase. Because it moved around, each visit required a new search for its first step. On a nice day during the all-guild common lunch and free period, acolytes and apprentices of all the guild halls would gather around and watch people try to find and then walk up an invisible staircase that could twist and turn without warning.

  The second obstacle I faced was locating the correct entrance, which also changed from day to day. Entering the wrong door meant walking along the guild hall’s interior ceiling and seeing everything upside down at the start of the visit. I knew this from firsthand experience, having delivered or retrieved messages and objects for my master over the past several years.

  There was a trick to it, but nobody told me what it was. I was expected to figure it out myself, but I have never cracked it.

  No guard was at the door, which would have given away the correct entrance. I sighed and walked along the front until I found the first staircase. Fortunately, no acolytes or adepts were around, so I carefully inched my way up the forty-nine stairs to reach the entrance, twenty-one feet above ground level.

  Of the two doors, I chose the one that looked right-side-up from the outside. I turned the handle and walked in.

  Everything was upside down.

  I sighed deeply. I still had not been able to sense which was the correct way. And given a 50-50 chance, I seemed to always choose the wrong direction.

  My master enjoyed teasing me that I had a better than 90% chance of getting a 50-50 choice wrong. He chuckled about that witticism for hours. He’ll love that it happened again and tell me to study things more carefully. I hoped it did not get back to him. But given the nature of my visit, I was sure there was no chance of his not learning about it.

  As I walked down the entranceway ceiling, dodging the candelabras, I wondered if I had used my See All Magic and Enchantments spell, whether I might have found the staircase more easily and chosen the correct door. It was too late now, but it was worth a try next time– before I embarrass myself in front of a rival guild.

  Again.

  I reached a spot above and in front of the main desk. If the master or mistress at the desk was of a disposition, I could be magically transferred to the floor. But it usually required a little humiliation or sacrifice on my part.

  I cleared my throat and bowed, which meant I was looking directly down and into the face of the amused thaumaturgist at the desk. Several students were walking by and hid their laughter behind their hands. Seeing an enchanter get knocked down a peg would be the talk of the academy all day.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Apprentice Gwydion Istari here to meet with Emeritus Guildmaster Gaunt Nanren at his invitation.”

  I had the wit to add that last comment, which saved me from having to explain why I was here. At least, I hoped it was so.

  The mage at the desk consulted a ledger, taking his time as more students walked by, chuckling. I was beginning to attract a gathering.

  “Ah, yes. Here it is. You are scheduled to meet Master Nanren and his apprentice in meeting room three.”

  The mage turned to a student who had remained standing near the desk while others moved away. “Bido, please inform your master while I set the apprentice to rights.”

  The student ran off after bowing to the mage. That was just my luck. I walked into the thaumaturgist guild and embarrassed myself before my counterpart.

  “Now, young enchanter, in order to put you to rights, you will need to respond in a sinister manner.”

  Finally, a little luck was with me. A previous mage had asked me this same question in the past. Because I had no idea what to do, I asked to be let down in a sinister-sounding voice. The assembled mages and students in the vicinity had burst into laughter.

  The word sinister had a double meaning, as with most things dealing with thaumaturgists. It could mean something harmful or evil, but it also could mean left-handed or left-sided. The opposite of his words to put me “right” required me to respond in the opposite.

  “That would be the left side, then, master Thaumaturgist. And I thank you sincerely for your kindness.” I added.

  He grunted, and some nearby students moaned in disappointment as he pointed a globe-shaped object toward me. I descended and flipped upright.

  “Please show the apprentice to meeting room three, Clarissa.” He said to a passing student.

  She bowed to him, scowled at me, and led me back down the hallway to a door. She opened it, allowed me to pass through, and closed it behind me.

  I was alone in the room. It was not a large room, perhaps twenty by twenty feet, and richly carpeted with a warm fire burning in a large marble hearth on the opposite wall from where I stood. There was a small round table in the center of the room with two wooden chairs and a plush, comfortable chair between them. One wooden chair was opposite the plush chair, and the other was to its right. I presumed I would sit across from the master, and his apprentice would sit to his right.

  I took the expected chair and waited.

  It took perhaps twenty minutes before the door opened again, and the apprentice I had seen earlier entered behind his master.

  Emeritus Guildmaster Gaunt Nanren had a reputation as a powerful mage and not one that took kindly to silliness or insincerity. He was also famous for his riddles or puzzles. He had several publicly available texts on such things that were popular across the realm. His most well-known work among adventurers was titled Deadly Traps, Puzzles, and Riddles. And while he refused to publish answers to his riddles or puzzles, access to these ideas sparked practice and contemplation that probably saved more than one adventuring party across the past few decades.

  My master made me read a copy before my meeting today. I figured out about half of the riddles, which my master said was exceptional for a first reading. However, he admitted there was still one he had not solved, and Master Nanren asked him about it nearly every time they met.

  I stood up quickly and bowed as he entered. I remained silent, bowed, and knew I should speak only after being spoken to. My master had prepared me for this meeting more than he had for the others. I was reminded about old-school mage etiquette and protocol but told that I’d need to use my wit if I faced any of his riddles or puzzles today.

  The mage entered and sat down across from me. I did not move from my bowed position. It would have been an error to speak first, not bow, or shift my bow to face him as he walked. I was to remain in position and silent.

  “Rise and be seated, apprentice. You are a guest in these halls, and you are granted host courtesy and obligations.”

  So far, so good. My master said that if Master Nanren was impressed by me, he would grant me guest protocols, which would permit me to share only such knowledge as I felt comfortable. Of course, I was free to leave regardless, but it would insult my master and my guild, for which I would likely be required to perform some compensatory boon. Such situations never went well for the unfortunate apprentice.

  “Bido, please fetch refreshments for our young guest and ourselves.”

  Bido stood, nodded, and replied, “Yes, master.” The apprentice walked over to a hinged wall portrait. He easily opened it, revealing a cavity with a variety of drinks. Bido turned and waited for instructions.

  “What would you care to drink, apprentice?” The mage asked me.

  I looked at the assortment of bottles and flasks and then turned back. “What would you recommend for me, Master Nanren?”

  He nodded in approval. “I prefer a glass of cool water with a twist of lemon.”

  I looked back at Bido and the shelves. I saw what I was looking for in an open jar next to the lemons and replied, “Then, if it would be no inconvenience, sir Bido, I would like a cool glass of water and a twist of lime.”

  The thaumaturgist laughed out loud. “Like master, like apprentice. That is as it should be.”

  My master had told me that when he visited his colleague, Emeritus Guildmaster Gaunt Nanren, they both only ever drank the same things- cool water with a twist of lime or lemon, respectively. He had suggested I do the same. If I had chosen the same drink as Master Nanren, it would have looked insincere and as if I were currying favor. Had I chosen something other than Master Nanren’s drink, it would have appeared disrespectful and oppositional, which was not the kind of thing I should have done before asking him for a favor. It was a puzzle with but one satisfactory answer to choose what my master would drink. It was the only puzzle my master was willing to help me with to get me started on the right foot.

  The rest would be up to me.