The Cost of Magic
Imagery becomes the preface leading to an explicit assertion about the downside of wizardry. “The spell blasted away from the two of them with a shock like a huge jolt of static, then dropped down over the sandbar and the water for hundreds of feet around, sinking like a weighted net. And as if the spell had physically dragged them down, all the circling, hunting fins in the water sank out of sight, their owners paralyzed and unable to swim. No wizardry is done without a price.” The description of the consequences of casting the spell reveals envious power. Few in their right minds would not give just about anything for the power to cause sharks and their metaphorical real-world bullies to instantly stop a threat in its track. The imagery which follows paints a portrait of overwhelming weakness as the cost of doing this enviable business.
No Doubt About It
The practice of wizardry leaves little room for doubt. “The only reason it works for you is that you know wizardry works and are willing to have it so. Belief is no good either; belief as such always has doubt at the bottom…`Wizardry does not live in the unwilling heart.’” This metaphorical adage is credited to the Sea in a conversation between Kit, Nita, and a whale named S’reee. As a whale, of course, the latter would tend to know the proverbial wisdom which the Sea has to offer quite well. The point of this imagery revolves around a necessary quality to become a wizard—such as Kit and Nita—who are skilled at casting spells. That essential element is a fundamental belief strong enough to overcome the natural and inherent doubt about the whole premise of magic.
Becoming the Whale
In addition to casting spells against others, Kit is able to transform into a sperm whale. That very sentence is example of why wizarding requires an ability to overcome doubt. Doubtful though it may sound, Kit does briefly become a sperm whale and imagery as perceived through the ears of Nita brings the transformation to life. “The sound that began rumbling through the water probably upset the krakens as much as it did her. Nita had never heard the battle cry of an enraged sperm whale—a frightful scrape of sound, starting at the highest note a human being can hear and scaling down with water-shaking roughness to the lowest note, then past it.” The use of imagery here is far less viscerally intense than elsewhere in the book, stripped down to the barest essentials. Those essentials, however, represent the full spectrum from one extreme to the other. Readers intuitively fill in the massive between a shrill high note and the chest-thumping full-bodied quality of those bass notes on the lowest end of the spectrum. Experience and imagination work together to fill in the missing details.
The Kraken
At the other extreme when it comes to visceral imagery is the great battle conducted against a host of krakens. The battle royale is persistently detail-oriented, but this particular excerpt comes with the additional bonus of leading to a comical comparison at the end. “Again and again he feinted, again and again his teeth tore, until the kraken was reduced to a tattered, screaming storm of blood and ink and flailing tentacles. Blank-eyed, Ed soared straight at the finned rear end of the doomed creature and opened his mouth. When his jaws scissored shut, all that was left to drift downward were the tips of several tentacles. The kraken had been about the size of a station wagon.” This extended sequence is filled with imagery relaying what the krakens look like, feel like, sound like and, especially die like. The station wagon reference is a welcome bit of lightness following all that blood, shrieking, ink, and failing tentacles and feels like an end, but that turns out to be a trick as there is still yet one more kraken to be disposed of.
