Randall Garret
invented his detective Lord Darcy (who is clearly from the Holmes blueprint) in
the late 1970s and wrote a couple of short stories and a novel (“Too Many
Magicians”) about him. Later on, Garret’s friend Michael Kurland added two more
novels to the collection (“Ten Little Wizards” and “A Study in Sorcery”). All
are set in the same alternate reality of the late 1970s and the 1980s. And that
alternate reality is what I want to talk about, because it comes with a
rational magic system which presents a backdrop without getting in the way too
much.
In Lord Darcy’s
version of the world, two things happened in medieval times which changed the
course of history:
Richard Lionheart
survived the battle in which he died in our reality, found the time to re-evaluate
his life, and returned to England to rule for twenty more years, surviving his
younger brother John (who this way never got a chance at proving how bad a
ruler he was) and leaving England in the capable hands of his nephew Arthur. As
a result of this, the Plantagenets still rule and a sizable portion of Europe
is part of the Angevin Empire, which encompasses France in addition to Britain
and has a strong influence on other western European countries.
In addition to that, a
monk discovered the rules behind magic, which allows for everyone with the
Talent (the inborn ability to use magic) to be trained as a mage of some kind.
This has changed the development of technology severely - many modern
‘inventions’ such as refrigerators or telephones exist, but they run on magic
instead of electricity.
As a result of both
changes, the world is very different from the one we know - the society is much
more based on old feudal systems, magicians are their own class, healing is a
topic as well, and things seem quite fantastical to the reader.
Randall Garret could
have let his imagination run amuck with all of this. He could have told stories
of how magic made solving crimes so much easier. But he didn’t - and with good
reason. Where would the ‘mystery’ in ‘mystery story’ be, if a magician only
snapped their fingers and everything was cleared up? Nowhere, that’s where.
By giving clear limits
to magic, both on moral grounds and on actual technological grounds, he made it
clear that magic is not solving all problems in this world. Master Sean, Lord
Darcy’s assistant, claims often enough that he’s a sorcerer, but not a miracle
worker. It’s Darcy’s little grey cells (to quote another detective) which solve
the case, not the magic. The magic assists, very much the same way as science
assists in our world. Master Sean as a forensic sorcerer can tell how long a
body has been dead, identify poisons, tell whether a bullet came from a
specific weapon. He can’t just conjure up a picture of the murderer or revive
the body to ask it (unlike a certain Mr. Johannes Cabal, but I’ll talk about
him in another post).
And magic in the world
of Lord Darcy is complicated and hard. Sorcerers and witches need a lot of
material, such as different wands, different parchments, different inks, a lot
of tools which are expensive. Magical spells can take hours to weave and often
come with complications - some demand far more than one sorcerer to work out.
Magic is a full-time job with a long training phase.
Since most people do
not have the Talent, however, most crimes committed in the world of Lord Darcy
(who is a detective by profession, not an amateur) are committed without the
use of magic, so Lord Darcy (who doesn’t have an ounce of the Talent himself)
is very much suited to solving them. Master Sean provides him with information,
as a forensic scientist in our world would, and sometimes provides a sounding
board for his colleague and friend.
What magic provides in
the stories is not the solution to the case, but the backdrop. The immediate reaction
of witnesses to ‘locked room mysteries’ in a magical setting is ‘a sorcerer did
it.’ Then, without fail, Lord Darcy proves that a sorcerer had nothing to do
with it and it doesn’t take magic to commit a crime the way it was committed.
But magic is there,
the past has shaped a different present where there’s no cars, where the train
is still the best way of travelling, where people are living in a much less
stressful and much less enlightened environment, where it’s perfectly normal to
assume that the gentry knows what they’re doing (not Darcy, though, despite
being gentry himself). The world is close enough to reality (at least if you
were alive and conscious during the 80s) to be recognizable, yet unrecognizable
enough so it feels like taking a break in another world entirely. As a matter
of fact, this magic-based, late-20th-century world has a striking resemblance
to Sherlock Holmes’ Victorian age (but with magic and without Queen Victoria,
of course).
The magical backdrop
in the Lord Darcy stories works, because it is only a backdrop. The rules of
magic, the complicated rituals necessary to use it, the limited pool of people
who can use magic at all make sure that despite the whole ‘magic is real’ part
of the setting there’s never a simple solution through magic. It’s Lord Darcy’s
talent (which his friend and colleague is sure has to be magic as well, in some
way) to get from the problem to the solution which saves the day, no matter
whether it’s in a short story or a novel, no matter whether it’s an original by
Randall Garret or a pastiche by Michael Kurland.
With interesting cases, recurring
characters, and a world which is both recognizable and unrecognizable, the Lord
Darcy stories (the originals are available collected in one volume, both novels
by Michael Kurland are also still available) are still a good read many, many
years after they were written - and, sadly, many years after their creator left
this globe.
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