Heart of the Exiled

by Pati Nagle

  “Because this form of contact is … somewhat intimate … anyone who does not wish to experience it is free to decline. There are new cloaks by the door if you prefer to take them away and continue your work.”

  Rephanin walked to the table that held the timekeeper, averting his attention from the circle so as not to discomfit anyone who chose to leave. The arrows still lay scattered there. He reached a hand toward them, feeling their varying levels of focus, slightly jarring, a chorus out of harmony. Gathering them into both hands, he swept them clear with a single white wave of prime khi. Time to begin their focus anew, as he was about to do with his circle.

  He looked up at the mages. Not a soul had moved. They sat watching him, some ill at ease, some excited, all expectant. He laid the arrows down and moved to stand before the fire.

  “Once I have addressed you in mindspeech, you will be able to answer in like fashion. I will speak to all of you together and ask that you signal your desire to respond. If several of you speak at once, your voices will be indistinguishable.

  “We will be able to communicate thus as long as we remain together. Once we are separated by any sort of barrier—a door, a wall—the contact will be broken.”

  He paused, glancing at the hearth, where the flames had retreated, leaving a bed of coals glowing orangehot. He licked his lips.

  “I encourage you to attempt to contact me after we leave this session, when you will have a better understanding of mindspeech. The ability is very rare, but it is possible that any of you may possess it. Some mindspeakers do not discover their gift for decades, even centuries. Certainly it is worth the attempt.”

  He glanced across the circle of faces. Valani showed her palm, and he acknowledged her with a nod.

  “Will we all be able to speak to one another?”

  “That will be possible, yes, but please allow me to guide the discussion. My purpose is to demonstrate my technique of laying in khi to a focus. Are there further questions?”

  Silence answered him, a palpable tension in the circle. Time, then, for it to be dispelled.

  The warden of the Guard—

  A collective gasp swept the circle before he finished the thought. At the same time Rephanin was suddenly acutely aware of each of them, the brilliance of their khi almost overwhelming. He paused to allow himself and the mages to recover composure. Heléri kept her eyes lowered, but he saw her lips curve in a smile.

  The warden of the Guard has asked me to extend to you his thanks for your work on the cloaks.

  He looked around the circle, searching each face for any sign of distress. Finding none, he continued as he moved to the chests of cloaks and withdrew one.

  A number of new recruits are waiting for cloaks, so I will not take up much of your time this evening. Have you any questions before I proceed to demonstrate focus-building?

  Jholóran showed a hesitant hand. Rephanin nodded to him.

  Have you ever been unable to speak to someone?

  A good question. No, I have never met anyone to whom I could not speak, though not all choose to answer.

  A nervous laugh ran through the circle. It broke the tension somewhat, which was what Rephanin had hoped. Valani signaled for recognition, and he gave it.

  Now that you have spoken to us all, will we all hear everything you say?

  Another good question. I can speak to all of you at once or to any of you alone, as I choose. Speaking to a selection of you is more difficult but also possible.

  What makes that so difficult? Valani’s eyes were brilliant with curiosity.

  Picture yourself as a weaver, with many strands to manage. Moving any one is simple; moving some but not others requires more attention. The analogy is not perfect, but it will serve.

  Valani responded, her enthusiasm plain in her voice. Or a harper, choosing which strings to play!

  Yes, a harper is a better example. To play one string is easy, to play all is simple, but to select those which harmonize requires skill. More questions?

  He waited only a brief moment, knowing the questions could continue indefinitely if he allowed it. Very well. We will have time to discuss this again in future sessions. For now I will proceed with the focus-building.

  He drew a chair forward and sat in it, draping the cloak over his lap and taking one corner of it between his hands. Daring a glance at Heléri, he saw that she was watching him, still softly smiling. Her khi was the brightest in the room, drawing him to her. He resisted and turned his gaze to the others.

  For this I must ask you all to give me your full attention. You may feel an increase of khi through the circle.

  He closed his eyes and centered his own awareness, noting the mages’ varying brightness of khi, especially that of Sulithan, the mage whose work had been flawed. When he was certain of their attention, he moved his thought into the fabric of the cloak, bidding them to follow.

  He drew upon prime khi to build the focus of protection, warmth, and concealment into the cloak. Follow the pattern of the weaving. No need to take one strand at a time; the gridwork will serve you well as a pathway.

  Khi flowed in a slow tide outward from his hands, spreading through the twisted fibers, filling the spaces between, binding all with the blessing. He moved his hands to another part of the cloak while maintaining the focus, then built it further. At last he ceased and withdrew.

  The mages stirred, some sighing, some still with eyes closed, as if holding on to the moment. Rephanin smoothed the fabric of the cloak and waited, watching them.

  The nervous tension had vanished. The circle was calm—unusually so, he thought. The sole exception was Sulithan, who sat gazing downward, frowning slightly.

  Rephanin rose, left the cloak on his chair, and quietly walked to the chest. When he reached it, he turned; seeing the circle all watching once more, he picked up another cloak.

  Thank you all for your attention. Those who wish to stay and work now may do so; the others may take cloaks and return when you will.

  The mages gathered to accept their work, some murmuring words of thanks, others silent. Valani stepped up to him, her khi fairly radiating excitement.

  Thank you, my lord! I look forward to learning more.

  Rephanin smiled as he handed her two cloaks. You are welcome.

  She stayed a moment, smiling back, then moved to a worktable and took up one of the cloaks. Rephanin was surprised at this, for she was a day-bider. She glanced up at him and flashed another smile, and he sensed the first faint stirring of a familiar danger. Turning his attention to the next mage, he avoided looking Valani’s way again.

  Sulithan had kept to the back of the line, waiting until all the others had left or settled in to work. When Rephanin held out a cloak to him he hesitated, frowning.

  Your demonstration—I have not been doing anything like that.

  Rephanin smiled gently as he placed the cloak in the mage’s hands. You will do better now.

  Sulithan drew himself up. Yes. I will.

  If you ever have questions—

  I will not hesitate to ask. Thank you, Lord Rephanin.

  Sulithan left the chamber, brushing a shoulder against the door frame in his haste. Rephanin hoped that he would not be discouraged, that he would build upon what he had learned this night.

  Two other day-biders had chosen to remain and work, leaving six gathered in the hall. Rephanin walked back to his chair, relieved at the smaller group. With six the circle’s khi was less intense, though still strong. Rephanin could have shut the others out of his awareness but knew that Heléri would disapprove. Shared khi was stronger khi; their work was improved by being together and would be even more so by retaining the contact of mindspeech. Rephanin shifted his attention to his work while allowing the contact to continue. Before long he was deep into focus-building.

  The work went swiftly. He completed two cloaks and was well into enhancing a third by the time he sensed a new presence in the chamber. Opening his eyes, he saw his attendant, Tivhari, carr
ying a tray bearing fruit and bread, cups, and an ewer of steaming tea. He knew by this signal that it was morning.

  He set aside his work and acknowledged Tivhari with a smile. She smiled back, then placed the tray on his worktable and slipped out of the chamber.

  Looking at the mages, he saw them deep in concentration and was hesitant to disturb them. Heléri’s eyes opened and met his gaze. Feeling her khi shift to him along with her glance, he was swept by a wave of desire. He hastily drew back, shielding his emotions from the circle. After a moment he felt calm enough to speak.

  Gentles. Keep working if you wish, but know that it is morning. Refreshment is here for you.

  Jholóran stirred, then roused and stretched. The others came back to awareness. Rephanin gently withdrew his khi from the circle, maintaining only the slightest contact, enough for all to hear if someone spoke, but no more. He rose and went to the table, pouring himself a cup of tea.

  Valani hurried forward, eyes shining. He offered the tea to her. Her fingers brushed his as she accepted the cup, and in his heightened state of awareness he sensed her unmistakable admiration. At that moment she would, he knew, accept any invitation he cared to make. He shifted his gaze to the ewer and poured out tea for the others who came to join them.

  Jholóran’s face was filled with quiet elation. “That was extraordinary! Thank you, Lord Rephanin, for sharing this with us.”

  Valani turned a brilliant smile upon Rephanin. Yes. Thank you.

  “You are all welcome. I am glad this night enhanced your work.”

  While the mages helped themselves to fruit and bread, Rephanin retreated to his chair, picked up the cloak that he had yet to finish, and folded it, setting it on a shelf. He then went to the table by the door and gathered the finished cloaks into an empty chest. The Guard would collect them during the day.

  The mages began comparing their experiences, talking eagerly about not only the mindspeech but also the improvement the night had made in their focus-building skills. Seeing them thus occupied, Rephanin quietly slipped out of the room and walked the curving corridor to his chambers. Though it was morning outside, the magehall remained dark, lit with gentle lamplight. Rephanin reached his rooms, went in, and closed the outer door, breathing silent relief.

  It had not been as bad as he had feared. No one had overreacted to the mindspeech, but a shadow of dread still troubled him. He knew how easily it might have gone differently.

  Tivhari had left a small lamp burning in his outer chamber and had banked the coals on the hearth. Rephanin sat before it and held his hands out to the warmth, then rubbed them over his face. He felt shaken despite the night having gone well. He had no confidence, he realized, that resuming the use of his gift would cause no harm. Ill effects might yet manifest. He had sensed the seed of them this night.

  A quiet knock on the door made him freeze. It was not Tivhari; her knock was different. He considered ignoring the visitor. He had done enough for one night, had he not? And he felt unsteady, unsafe.

  “Rephanin?”

  Heléri’s voice. Relief washed through him. He rose quickly and went to the door, glancing down the corridor as he welcomed her in. No one else was near.

  She carried two teacups and offered one to him. “You left this.”

  “Oh. Thank you.”

  She smiled up at him, her blue eyes deep with experience, with kindness. It was kindness that had brought her here, that had made her urge him to speak to the mages. That and concern that their people have all possible aid in this troubled time.

  He sipped the tea, which had cooled to a gentle warmth. He should offer Heléri a chair, though it would be safer for them both if she left.

  He gazed at her in awkward silence. She smelled faintly of starflowers, a sweet fragrance that reminded him of Eastfæld. They did not grow in Southfæld, nor in Alpinon as far as he knew.

  She raised a hand to touch his cheek, her khi tingling on his skin, enhancing the ache in his heart and awakening his body’s desire. He caught her hand and held it away.

  “You are yet bound in spirit.”

  “But no longer in flesh.” She smiled softly. “And I have my lord’s blessing.”

  Rephanin swallowed, thinking of Davharin. “I do not want your pity. Nor his.”

  “Pity did not bring me here.”

  Her fingers turned in his hand to slide between his. All his senses seemed on fire, a white-hot tingling spreading from her hand to his and throughout his flesh.

  You are more beautiful than when I first saw you. I cannot bear it.

  For answer she drew his hand to her lips, her kiss sending pleasure stinging through his senses. They had played at love long ago but had not gone beyond flirtation. Rephanin doubted he was capable of such lightness any longer.

  If you do not leave now—

  Let me stay.

  Her free hand came up to brush his neck, fingers sliding through his hair. Rephanin closed his eyes, and a soft moan—half pleasure, half remorse—escaped him.

  I should have claimed you then. I was a fool.

  Never mind. I am here now, and it is cold without.

  He looked at her through heavy-lidded eyes, his desire awakened beyond restraint.

  Yes. Cold without.

  His hand moved up, tracing her hip and waist before embracing her. He kissed her, his pent passion flowing forth as their thoughts entwined and moved beyond language. They joined as he had dreamed for centuries of joining, and as their khi merged so that their very souls became indistinguishable, his doubts burned away in the fire of her love.

  Much later, they lay drifting in warmth and contentment. Thoughts still deeply mingled began to separate—awareness of the self to coalesce—acknowledging the differences between self and other. Rephanin; the name recalled became identity, donned like a garment.

  Heléri.

  Gratitude and fondness expressed without words, as color, as music, through shaded swirling khi. Her response a shimmer of gladness, washing through his being in waves, shadowed with violet and blue, laced with a whisper of ancient gold and white.

  He became aware of his bed beneath him, of the physical warmth beside him, a weak echo of her soul’s fire. He had a body as well, he recalled. He drew a deep breath into it, reminding himself where he lived.

  His eyes opened and in the gentle darkness beheld the strange shapes that made up his private chamber, shapes he took for granted most times. He gazed at them in lazy curiosity, then turned his head to look at Heléri. She lay on her side, dark hair flowing over pearly flesh, the taste of her still hovering in his senses.

  Thank you.

  She stirred, a smile brushing her lips. Her eyes opened, and a shade of concern fleeted through the deep blue.

  I was worried when I heard it said that you had lost your gift.

  He allowed himself a wry smile. No such good fortune for ælvenkind.

  What do you mean? Yours is perhaps the greatest gift we have ever been given.

  Think you so? A pity it was not entrusted to one who would make better use of it.

  That is harsh.

  He gazed up at the ceiling again. Not harsh enough.

  She raised herself onto an elbow and brushed a strand of his hair back from his shoulder. He shifted his gaze to her and could not help smiling.

  She tilted her head. This is not the confident magelord I once knew—the one who struck whole rooms full of people speechless with awe. What has happened?

  His smile faded. No.

  She could seize the answer if she wished to; their khi was still entwined, and he doubted he could deny her anything she sought in his heart. He knew she would not try, though. Such a misuse of khi, such an invasion of privacy, was against the creed, for it could not but do harm. Khi misused brought its own punishment, as he knew from sad experience.

  She moved her hand across his chest, fingertips brushing his skin. He caught it and carried it to his lips.

  I should not have let you stay.
/>   Why? Davharin does not mind.

  I was not thinking of Davharin, though I hope you will extend my gratitude to him.

  Her eyes lit as with a new thought. Would you not prefer to tell him yourself?

  Rephanin laughed. I have done many things, but I have never spoken to the spirit realm.

  You could speak to him through me.

  Startled, he let go her hand and sat up. Is he here?

  Heléri laughed softly. He is in spirit—he is everywhere and nowhere. Yes, he is with me, and he would like to speak to you.

  She reached for his hand, pressing it between both of hers. He could feel the sudden heat of her khi in his palm.

  Wait—

  Even as he formed the thought, a new presence flooded his awareness, immensely powerful yet gentle, unlike anything he had experienced yet vaguely familiar. It was pure khi overlaid with the slightest echo of an ælven soul. Rephanin felt his breathing become short and quick.

  Davharin?

  A feeling of confirmation—unformed, a mere ripple through the brilliant khi—was followed by a confusion of ideas Rephanin could not interpret. Heléri sat up beside him, still clasping his hand, her palm hot against his.

  He seldom uses language anymore.

  He saw her close her eyes, felt her wordless request for clarity. Agreement swept through Davharin’s brightness, then Rephanin sensed a drawing in, a contraction that intensified power rather than lessened it. Closing his own eyes, he waited. At last a single word rolled over him like thunder across the mountains.

  Speech.

  Rephanin frowned. I do not—

  An image leapt into brilliance in his mind, a perfect circle of glowing whiteness. It became irregular, varying in thickness, and now he saw that khi was flowing endlessly around it. With a shock Rephanin recognized it as his mage circle, as if he were looking down on it from above and seeing only the khi of the mages who formed it.

  He applauds your use of speech with your circle.

  Rephanin knew that Heléri’s interpretation was correct. The thought rang within him with the clarity of a deep chime. If a spirit considered the matter important enough to tell him so, he had better pay attention.