“This arrived about an hour ago. The guards at the gate were asked to deliver it to me, but I have no doubt that it was meant for you as well.” He walked over to the box, then hesitated. “You should probably sit.”
Frowning, Asha took Elocien’s advice.
Elocien carefully levered up the lid, and Asha shuddered as she realized what was inside.
Teran and Pyl’s severed heads stared up at her, their bloodied expressions taut with fear. Sitting atop the heads, flecked with dark red, was a note. Asha stared in horror for a moment, then leaned forward, a chill running through her as she read it. It was inked in the same neat, precise handwriting she’d seen in Elocien’s memory, from the night Administration had been attacked.
There were only two words on the slip of paper.
I apologize.
“It seems you were right about the Shadraehin not ordering the kidnapping,” Elocien observed softly. “He’s making sure I know, so that Administration doesn’t retaliate—and making sure you know he didn’t betray you at the same time.”
Asha shuddered. She’d despised these men for what they’d done, had even taken satisfaction in watching Kol’s treatment of them. But this… she hadn’t wanted this. She turned away, feeling sick.
“At least he doesn’t think I’m holding out on him, then,” was all she said.
She spoke with Elocien a little longer, but soon enough she headed back to her rooms, suddenly too tired to be afraid. She’d seen so much violence over the past few months, more than she’d thought was possible. What had happened to Teran and Pyl… it almost didn’t surprise her.
Even so, as she lay back on her bed and closed her eyes, she knew she wouldn’t be able to get their final expressions from her mind for a long, long time.
Chapter 32
Davian glanced up from his reading at the sound of footsteps echoing around the stone corridors.
His muscles tensed as he stood, facing the doorway into the library. Despite Malshash’s assurances, he remained cautious at all times in Deilannis. There was something too… wrong about the city for him to be able to relax.
It had been four days since the shape-shifter’s abrupt departure. Davian had broken from reading during that time to eat and sleep, but nothing else. Partly it was due to the enormity of the task; every time he thought he’d exhausted a topic, the Adviser directed him to books with fresh information on the same subject. Partly it was an escape.
Mostly, though, he’d discovered a fierce determination within himself, a hunger to be able to do what these books described. He’d never realized it before, but he’d watched his peers use Essence for so long—effortlessly, it had seemed—and been deeply envious.
Now, perhaps, it was finally his turn.
A man not much older than him entered the room, smiling boyishly when his eyes alighted on Davian. He had bright-red hair, a strong jawline, and a crooked nose. He waved in a familiar fashion.
“Malshash?” Davian asked, his tone hesitant.
The man gave a cheerful nod. “In the flesh.” He looked in a particularly good mood; he sauntered up to Davian, glancing at the array of tomes spread out across the table. “How have you progressed?”
Davian shrugged. “I’ve done plenty of reading. Kan doesn’t strike me as the sort of power to rush into, though, so I’ve been waiting for you to return before going further.” Though he tried to sound casual about the last, in truth he was itching to see whether the theory he’d been devouring would actually work.
“Good lad.” Malshash gave him an approving nod. “You think you’ve grasped the basic concepts?”
Davian nodded. “The mental techniques sound simple enough. I’ve actually come across a few of them before, when I was trying to use Essence. They shouldn’t be too much trouble.” He was being modest. Every mental technique he’d ever tried—quite a few, in his years at the school—he had perfected. They had just never resulted in his being able to use Essence.
Malshash smiled. “But you understand that the two—Essence and kan—are very different?” He watched Davian closely, and Davian’s breath shortened a little. He got the distinct feeling he was being tested.
“Kan is an external force,” he said. “Whereas Essence is usually drawn from within the body, kan is drawn from a single source—one that seems to have its physical location here, somewhere in Deilannis. Although kan can be used from anywhere in the world, it is easiest to access and control here in the city.”
Malshash nodded encouragingly. “That’s accurate. What else?”
“Essence is energy. In the case of the Gifted it’s a piece of our own life force, extracted and converted into something that can physically affect things.” He bit his lip, straining to explain what he’d understood from the books. “Kan is not energy. You couldn’t make a fireball with kan, or lift a feather. You can’t heal with it. But it can affect energy. It seems to… sit above Essence, somehow. As we manipulate the world with Essence, so we manipulate Essence with kan.”
Malshash gave him an approving look. “You’ve been reading Delatroen, I see. Very good.” He smiled. “And what does he have to say about the consequences of this hierarchy?”
Davian stared at the ground for a long moment, trying to remember. “Two things. Firstly, that kan allows us to access things that Essence alone cannot touch—things that are not physical—specifically, he mentions thoughts and time as instances of that. And secondly, kan allows us to use Essence with a level of finesse and efficiency that is not possible otherwise. He gives the example of drinking from a pool. Manipulating Essence by itself is like scooping the water with your hands, whereas using kan to do it is more like using a cup.”
Malshash smiled. “I always liked that analogy.” He paused. “There’s more to it, though. He was only talking about one aspect of their interaction.”
Davian nodded, feeling his brow furrow. “Kan can also be used in other states to siphon, absorb, or store Essence. I read a little about Imbuing—making Vessels. The kan stores Essence in the Vessel indefinitely, preventing decay, until its function is triggered. In some cases it can draw Essence from whoever is using it, too.” He thought of the Vessel that had brought him and Wirr to Desriel. “It seemed quite advanced.”
“It is,” said Malshash drily. He nodded in approval, though. “There’s only one other thing you failed to mention, though it’s rarely spoken of in texts so I can hardly blame you for omitting it. Kan, in its natural state, absorbs Essence because the two were never designed to coexist. They can be used together—with training—but they are by no means complementary.”
“They were never designed to coexist?” repeated Davian.
Malshash waved away the query. “A story for another time. For now, all you need to know is that when learning to use the two combined, you must understand the quirks of each. Knowledge of one in no way imparts knowledge of the other.”
“That probably won’t be an issue, anyway,” muttered Davian, meaning the comment to be to himself.
Malshash gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”
Davian stared at the floor, embarrassed. “I… struggle, when it comes to using Essence. I’ve never been able to even access my Reserve.”
Malshash frowned. “Of course you can use Essence,” he said slowly. “I’ve seen you do it.”
Davian frowned back. “When?”
“After coming through the rift.” Malshash scratched his head. “Your body was nearly wasted away when you appeared on the Jha’vett. You regenerated in seconds, though. You actually glowed, you were using so much Essence.”
Davian shrugged. “I’ve been trying for years with no success,” he admitted.
Malshash’s frown deepened. “Stand still,” he instructed. He came and stood in front of Davian, putting his hand against his forehead. A wash of energy flooded through Davian’s body, startling him. He flinched backward to see Malshash looking at him in shock.
“What is it?” asked Davian.
Malshash just stared at him through narrowed eyes. “Of course,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It makes sense. I should have seen it earlier.” He laughed. “I should have felt it earlier. But it’s very subtle. Unnoticeable unless you’re looking for it.”
Davian scowled. “What are you talking about?”
Malshash thought for a moment. “Do you know why no one else has ever used the rift to pass through time, as you did?”
Davian shook his head mutely.
“It is because no living thing can pass through it and survive,” said Malshash. “The energies of the other realm are pure kan; they are drawn to Essence, and when they find it, they tear its source apart. Obliterate it.” He paused. “You don’t have a Reserve, Davian—in itself, not so unusual for an Augur. Beyond that, though, your body generates no Essence. Not just no excess. None at all.”
Davian shook his head. “That makes no sense. Everything living needs Essence.”
Malshash gave a delighted laugh. “That’s the trick, Davian! You’re using kan to get it. You draw it in from around you—any source you can find. The body does not need much, truth be told.” He shook his head. “I thought it was a miracle you’d picked up how to use kan so quickly, making it through the rift as you did. This is why. You’ve been using it unconsciously since the day you… well, since you died.”
Davian paled. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s very simple.” Malshash sat in a chair, gesturing for Davian to do the same. “At some point in your life, you died. I don’t know when—probably very young, though, earlier than you’d be able to even remember. So your ability to produce Essence failed. But somehow your instincts kicked in, and you began drawing Essence from around you using kan instead.” He shrugged. “You must have been doing it ever since. Stealing a little from here, a little from there. Sometimes from people, sometimes from your environment. If you were raised around the Gifted, it would have been too easy.”
Davian felt a chill run through him. “You mean… I’m dead?”
“No, no.” Malshash gestured impatiently. Then he hesitated. “Well… yes. In a way. You are just as alive as anyone else. Your heart still beats, your blood pumps, you need food and sleep. But… differently, I suppose. I meant that at some point, your body expired. Perhaps it was only for a few seconds, perhaps it was minutes—I don’t know how long it takes for a source to flicker out completely. But now for your body to function as it should, you need to draw your Essence from external sources.”
Davian shook his head, dazed. “What does that mean?” He ran his hands through his hair. “I think I understand what you’re saying, but… what are the implications?”
Malshash shrugged. “Nothing to be worried about, I would think. You do it instinctively, like breathing, so you shouldn’t be in any danger—and as far as I can tell you don’t draw enough to put anyone around you in harm’s way. So long as you don’t lose your ability to use kan, you’re no different from anyone else.”
Davian was silent. He had died? He thought back to the day he’d been branded with his Mark, the day he’d woken up in the school unable to move from his injuries. Had that been when it had happened? Thinking about it—that somehow in the past he had actually died—made him twist inside.
“I can’t say I’m entirely comfortable with the concept, nonetheless,” he admitted in a shaky voice.
Malshash nodded. “I understand. But it saved your life. You couldn’t have survived the rift otherwise.” He grinned at the irony. “It was meant to be, Davian. You have this power for a reason. And the good news is, your body is well adapted to kan. Which means we can take a few… shortcuts. You’ll be home in no time.”
Davian brightened at the prospect. “When do we start?”
Malshash clapped him on the back. “We’ll begin this afternoon. For now, though, we should get some food. I haven’t eaten today.”
Davian nodded, caught between dismay at the news he’d been told, and the hope that he would soon be returning to his own time.
He followed Malshash silently, lost in thought.
* * *
Davian cleared his mind, trying to sense kan.
It was only a few moments before he could feel it. It was less something physical, and more an absence. Like a shadow rather than light.
“Good,” murmured Malshash. Davian ignored the comment. This was the easy part.
They had been practicing for a couple of hours now. It was a frustrating process, though Malshash appeared unfazed by Davian’s lack of progress. If anything, the mysterious man seemed encouraged by how quickly Davian was able to sense kan, and even to an extent control it.
“Now,” said Malshash, “I’ve walled off most of my mind, but left a specific memory open for you to see. My memory will become yours, though you will be able to see it as distinct from your own. All you need to do is use kan to will yourself inside my mind, to connect to me.”
“Is that all,” said Davian through gritted teeth, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. Kan was stubborn and slippery; using it for even a few seconds was like grasping at shadows. What was worse, the process of entering another’s mind was delicate; it required a deft touch and more mental concentration than Davian would have previously believed possible. Malshash said kan was more difficult to wield than Essence, and Davian believed him. If Essence were this difficult to control, the number of Gifted able to use it effectively would be far smaller.
Still, this time he managed to keep it in his mind, keep his focus sharp as he reached out tentatively toward Malshash. He felt himself push through the kan, using it to make his will a reality.
He mentally reached Malshash and felt a barrier, something stopping him. He pushed again.
The world blurred for a moment; he lost concentration and everything dropped away, including his sense of kan. He gasped, holding his head, feeling as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over it.
He looked up. Malshash was watching him intently. “Well?”
Davian felt a chill run through him. “You were on the road yesterday. You passed a merchant who sold you food.” He snorted. “You ate all the good stuff before you got back here.”
Malshash considered him for a few more seconds, then broke into a wide smile. “Exactly right.”
Davian smiled back, still examining the memory in his head. It was an odd feeling. He knew the recollection wasn’t his, but he could picture the open fields, the fair weather, the greedy smile of the merchant knowing he could charge double for food so far from a town. It was remarkable.
“Can we try again?” he asked, elated.
Malshash shrugged. “I’ll have to choose a different memory and isolate it, but yes, I think so.”
Davian gave an eager nod. “So is that all there is to it?”
Malshash laughed. “It’s a start. But learning to really understand memories… that’s tricky.” He paused. “For example. You just said I ate all the ‘good stuff.’ Was that your assessment, or mine?”
Davian opened his mouth… and hesitated.
“I suppose… yours,” he conceded eventually, brow furrowed. “I don’t really care for figs.”
“And the weather was…”
“Fair?” Davian replied, a little uncertainly.
Malshash grinned. “Was it? Were there no clouds, or was it just brighter than I’m accustomed to here in the city? Or was I simply in a good mood?”
Davian shook his head. “I don’t think there were clouds. I can’t picture any. But now that you mention it… I don’t know,” he admitted.
Malshash clapped him on the shoulder. “And that’s the hard part. Even though you relived that memory far more clearly than I ever could have, it’s not just a sensory record of what happened. You’re experiencing the memory as my mind remembers it. Everything is always seen subjectively, colored by emotion. Memories can even change over time, be affected by new information. Reading a memory one day can be a different experience f
rom Reading that same memory the next.”
“So you can’t take what you see for granted?”
“Exactly. That’s not to say it’s completely unreliable; it just needs some experience to interpret what you see. And… you have to be careful. Once you Read someone’s memory, it becomes yours, too. If you’re not careful, that can change you.”
He paused, watching Davian to make sure the seriousness of that statement had sunk in before continuing. “Once you’ve mastered memories, there’s still learning how to Read what someone’s thinking at that exact moment. That is difficult. Even people who haven’t been trained have natural barriers protecting their thoughts. You need to learn to get around those, without harming them.”
Davian frowned. “They could get hurt?”
“Yes.” Malshash’s expression was solemn. “All these powers are dangerous in some way, Davian. You can’t just go forcing your way into someone’s mind, not without the mind pushing back. If you do, it can have serious consequences. Their mind could be permanently damaged; in some cases they may even die from the experience.”
Davian paled, thinking back to what Taeris had told him about the smuggler Anaar. “Why didn’t you tell me this before we started training?”
Malshash waved away his concern. “I have everything else walled off. Don’t worry, Davian. You can’t hurt me.”
Davian nodded in relief. “Good.”
Malshash held up a finger in warning, though he had a half smile on his lips. “By the way—you should know that I always shield my mind from being Read. It’s natural for me now; I do it without thinking. So don’t imagine you can try it sometime when I’m not ready.”
Davian grinned; he hadn’t really considered the possibility. Then his smile faded. “Have you Read me?”
“Oh yes.” Malshash chuckled as he saw the horrified expression on Davian’s face. “Only a little, now and then. To get myself… acquainted with what kind of man you are.” He waved his hands in a dismissive gesture. “Don’t worry. You’re a good one, in case you were wondering.”
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