Ends of Magic

Nathan took a deep breath, centered himself, and prepared to engage in small talk. He’d already changed his face to make himself more popular with the Questors. He might as well put in the effort to socialize a bit, and there was no shortage of Questors who wanted to talk to him. The fact that he’d achieved the highest contribution percentage had made the rounds, and it seemed like every single Questor wanted to get their moment with the man of the hour and share a drink.

He found himself repeating the same stock story over and over again when asked where he’d gotten his Insights. He described the fight against Giantsrest at least twenty times, dumbing down the story until it bore only a vague resemblance to the truth. A few people asked him about the Questors he’d killed, and he obliged. They delighted in seeing the boxes that confirmed that this mortal had killed Questors, and thought it was hilarious that he'd killed Badud threetimes.

The whole time, he was musing on what Colborn had told him, picking at it like a scab. The idea of accepting just a small change to Davrar felt wrong. He’d sworn an oath to end the Endings, and he’d meant it. Merely making the Endings less terrible would be positive, but it wasn’t what he’d set out to do, and it felt like an abdication of responsibility.

He moved through the social obligation in a haze, feeling like he was treading water. He wasn't really engaging with anyone who came to talk to him. But after a little while, he understood that it was fine. His purpose here was to win people over, and it required very little effort. He listened, made the appropriate noises at various points, and answered their questions in ways that left minimal surface area for further conversation. He didn’t chase anybody off, instead relying on the pressure from other Questors who wanted their turn with Nathan. They all wanted to like him, and all he had to do was avoid giving offense and be generally pleasant, and they'd fill in the gaps.