The Water Ruptures

by D. K. Holmberg

“Where did you learn that shaping?”

  “What else have I had to do?” Tolan asked.

  “Contemplate telling the truth.”

  “I’ve contemplated telling the truth, which is the reason I have told the truth.”

  Had he gotten so far along into this that he was convincing himself of that? He hadn’t been completely honest with her, and with his tie to the elementals, he no longer knew what the truth was. Now he was able to more easily reach earth and fire, he didn’t have the same desire to attempt to free the elementals, though there remained a question within him. Why should he suppress them?

  That line of questioning was dangerous, especially here within the Inquisition. If he began to ask that, he ran the risk of prolonging it, or worse.

  “Perhaps it was good I came today. I got to see firsthand some of the knowledge you’ve been keeping from us.”

  “Have you ever had others separated so long?” Tolan asked.

  “More questions from you. You really do need to understand the nature of the Inquisition.”

  “I understand the nature of the Inquisition. Isolation. You think the longer I’m here, you’ll force me to admit something. Either that or you think to shape something into my mind, either a way to force me to say something I wouldn’t otherwise, or perhaps something else. I won’t do it. And the longer I won’t do it, the more I think it makes you angry.”

  “The only thing that makes me angry is having a traitor within the Academy.”

  “All I’ve done is serve the Academy. Even these times when you think I’ve been a part of whatever has taken place, I still served the Academy. I didn’t always know what I was doing, but you can ask the Grand Master about my role. I’m sure he would tell you the truth.”

  “Why question the Grand Master when I can question your friends?”

  The comment hit him like a bucket of cold water. It felt almost as if he were shaped with ice, and his breath caught, leaving him to stare at Master Irina. In all the days he’d been here, Tolan hadn’t given any thought to what was happening with his friends other than fearing gossip and stories about him would spread. He had expected that and had given up thinking about whether there was anything he could do to stop it.

  He’d never thought his friends might be questioned.

  “Who have you interrogated?”

  “Do the questions never end with you?”

  “Who have you questioned?” He started to stand when a shaping wrapped around him, forcing him back into the chair.

  She smiled at him tightly. “You may be able to prevent a spirit shaping, but you have much to learn about shaping in general. We are having a conversation. There is no need for anything more combative.”

  “What have you done to my friends?”

  “You would think your time here would have endeared you more to them. Your friend from Velminth, Shaper Golud, has been most enlightening.”

  What would Jonas have said? He wouldn’t have known anything, especially as Tolan hadn’t shared anything about the connection he had with the elementals, but Jonas might have said something about bondars. And with the distance between them recently, he worried Jonas might have said anything to end the Inquisition.

  “And then there is the other young man who shares your room. A Shaper Wirthlin. He revealed your interest in bondars,” she said, her gaze drifting toward the corner. “And here you were the one who told me you discovered this at Master Daniels’. Perhaps you were the one to create the bondar.”

  Tolan breathed out, resisting the urge to look over into the corner and stare at the bondar. He wouldn’t do that. “You’ve already learned I came to the Academy without any ability to shape. Why wouldn’t I attempt to create a bondar to make it easier for me to shape when everyone else has such an easy time doing so?”

  “Creation of a bondar is restricted.”

  “I didn’t know it was restricted.”

  “You thought you would simply begin making a bondar? Such a thing is dangerous. It’s the reason we confine the bondars to the various classrooms. And yet, you, Shaper Ethar, thought you didn’t need to be confined to shaping with the bondar. You thought you could be excluded from that. Why am I not surprised?”

  “I wasn’t trying to be excluded from anything. I was trying to learn how to master my abilities.”

  “Yes. Your abilities. I must say I am a little surprised you were able to master creation of a bondar as a first-level student.”

  “I haven’t managed to make a bondar,” Tolan said.

  Resignation began to set in again, making him fully aware of how trapped he was. If she had interrogated Jonas and Wallace, he had little doubt she would have done the same with Ferrah. Of all the people he didn’t want interrogated, Ferrah was the one. She knew more about him, had been a part of more with him.

  His desire to protect her was more than that, though. Not only did he want to keep her from any sort of interrogation, he wanted to protect her from the possibility of another spirit shaping.

  “Lastly, I went and interrogated your friend, Shaper Changen.”

  There it was.

  Tolan stared, feeling helpless. How much would Ferrah have revealed? He knew she wouldn’t have done so willingly. Ferrah was a true friend, and he doubted she would have revealed anything that would’ve placed him in a difficult situation. She’d been the one who had wanted him to go to the Grand Master to discuss what was happening with him and the way he was shaping, but he had been unwilling.

  He should have done so sooner. Maybe if he would have, none of this would’ve happened. He should’ve gone to the Grand Master when he first uncovered the way he shaped and his connection to the elementals.

  Then he might have been exiled from the Academy, though it was difficult to believe his strange connection to shaping was different enough that it would raise questions even with the Grand Master, a man who seemed so open and willing to entertain different ideas.

  “What did Ferrah say?”

  “She was most enlightening.”

  Tolan studied her face. In the times he’d been working with her, he’d begun to notice something. Her eyes twitched a little when she was lying. He doubted Master Irina would see it as lying. She’d probably view it as an interrogation technique, but when she accused him of something she didn’t have strong evidence for, the corners of her eyes narrowed slightly. It was the slightest movement, barely enough to notice if he wasn’t paying attention to it, but after what she’d said about Ferrah, he’d been watching.

  There it was.

  When they twitched, he allowed himself a moment to relax.

  Ferrah either hadn’t said anything or all of this was a ruse, trying to get him to speak.

  “How was she enlightening?”

  “How do you think she’d be enlightening? As I’ve said before, it’s easier for you if you are open and honest about these things. The Inquisitors will take this under a greater consideration. We will consider it cooperation. Given what you’ve gone through, don’t you want to cooperate?”

  “Given what I’ve gone through, I think I have cooperated just about enough.”

  She smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, Shaper Changen thought the same.”

  Her eyes twitched again.

  What had happened with Ferrah?

  Had she managed to avoid having the Grand Inquisitor spirit shape her?

  It was something that had angered Ferrah—the one thing that had bothered her the most. The idea that her mind might be changed, thoughts and memories could be wiped, angered her. And Ferrah had been pursuing ways of reaching spirit. Maybe she’d found one.

  Or maybe she’d borrowed the spirit bondar again.

  The idea of her using the bondar to hide her actions from Master Irina was almost enough to make him smile. And he wouldn’t be surprised if Ferrah had found some way of twisting the various element bonds together in order to protect herself.

  “She didn’t tell you anything,” Tolan said. “Because there�
�s nothing for her to have said. She would’ve told you that we found the Convergence when we chased Jory into the depths below the Academy. Jory was not me. He was the one responsible for what happened. He was the one responsible for the attack on the Academy. He was the one who intended to free the elementals. Not me.”

  He emphasized the last, trying to draw attention away from him and place it on Jory, though he wasn’t certain whether he was successful.

  “She would’ve told you how I revealed the Keystone to her. She would also have told you how I worked with her to stop Master Daniels and the disciples from attacking—after we had already managed to stop the disciples attacking on the Shapers Path.”

  “Are you done?”

  “Do I need to be?”

  “You make these bold claims, Shaper Ethar, but in all, you neglect one thing.”

  “And what is that?”

  “If you have served the Draasin Lord as I believe, all of this would’ve been possible.”

  “How?”

  “The Draasin Lord would have coordinated it with you. Why would he not when doing so would ingratiate you to those within the Academy?”

  Tolan stared at her, and as he did, he began to laugh.

  There was nothing else to do or say. Regardless of what he did, Master Irina was going to believe the worst of him. And he wasn’t even sure she truly believed what she was accusing him of. That was the hardest part in all of this to wrap his mind around. Part of this was her way of attempting to break him—he was certain of it—and he was so close to letting her. Of admitting whatever she wanted from him. Simply needing to get out of this room.

  But if he did, he would be banished from the Academy. He didn’t have any idea what punishment there would be, but service of the Draasin Lord would involve death most likely.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you find quite funny.”

  “You. This. The Inquisition. All of it.” Tolan sighed, throwing his hands up in the air. “I could say anything, and you would twist it however you want. You’ve already made up your mind, deciding I’m guilty, regardless of whether or not I am. It matters not that I have served the Academy. It matters not that I came here with barely any ability to shape. And it matters not that I had nothing to do with anything that’s happened at the Academy. In your mind, you will continue to blame me, calling me a traitor. If there’s a traitor, you’re looking in the wrong place.”

  She met his eyes, studying him. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve told you everything.”

  “No, Shaper Ethar. You have not told me everything.”

  Tolan groaned, leaning back. “What more do you want me to say?”

  She got to her feet and stood with her hands clasped in front of her for a moment, watching him.

  Tolan wanted her to disappear, to leave him, if only so he could continue to practice shaping. It was the only relief he had these days, the only reprieve he had from the torment that was his boredom.

  Instead, she remained staring at him.

  A shaping was building.

  It took him a moment—too long—to realize she was holding onto a shaping. What purpose did she have to be building a shaping as she did now?

  He started to build the fire barrier once more, and as before, he inverted it, rotating the heat so that pressed upon him. He ignored the dry heat, ignoring the way his mouth lost all of its moisture, and ignored the slight burning along his skin. There was probably some way of buffering even that, and when he had more time, he would practice. Eventually, he would master all of these things.

  Master Irina cocked her head to the side, and, faster than he could react, she reached forward and grabbed each of his wrists.

  The shaping flowed out from her. It rolled through him, bypassing the barrier, and Tolan rocked back, collapsing to the ground.

  17

  When his eyes opened, he looked around. He was no longer in the room where the Inquisition was taking place. Wherever he was, faint sunlight streamed through a crack in the door. There was a certain warmth hanging over everything, a comforting sense he thought he should recognize, though he didn’t. He looked down and realized his head rested upon a pillow. It was softer than any pillow he could remember, and it was covered with a bright yellow silk pillowcase. Embroidery was worked around the end and he ran his fingers along it, feeling a slight bumpiness.

  It was pleasant. He couldn’t identify the room. He sat up, looking around, and realized wooden walls surrounded him. He was on a bed as plush as the pillow, and silky sheets as soft as the pillowcase covered him.

  Had they taken him out of the Inquisition?

  He looked toward the source of the light. It wasn’t a door, as he had thought, but a window. A curtain covered it, and he got to his feet, pulling it back. He looked outside and almost stopped breathing.

  His parents worked outside the window.

  “Mother?” he whispered.

  The voice that came out was not his own. It was softer, more childlike, and when he looked down, he realized he was dressed differently than he should be. He was shorter, for one, and he wore a long, flowing gown.

  None of this made any sense.

  Tolan headed toward the door and pulled it open. As he did, he found himself in a narrow hallway. Walking along it caused everything to shift, to blur past him, and when he reached the end of the hallway, he was in a large room lit by softly glowing orbs. It seemed as if he’d been here before. A smell lingered in the air, a mixture of sawdust and spice. Hanging over everything was a faint char, that of smoke. He took a deep breath, inhaling it all.

  It was familiar.

  Why should it be? Tolan didn’t know this odor and didn’t think he’d ever been to this place.

  A table along one dimly lit wall caught his attention. A variety of tools rested atop the table. Some, like a rasp or saw, he had seen when working with Master Daniels. Others were different. They were long, slender rods, and still others were even stranger. Pointed ends, of varying thickness and sharpness, were arranged neatly. A large metal file was set at one end of the bench.

  It came to Tolan slowly why he felt as if he’d seen this before.

  These were the kind of tools his father had kept. They were tools he’d used in his craftsmanship to create items of incredible beauty, items he would turn around and sell, keeping the family housed and fed.

  Tolan ran his hand along the bench. It was smooth and cool to the touch. He worked his way along it, feeling for something else, wondering if there might be other tools he would find that would remind him of his father.

  He turned, and everything spun again. Now the glowing orbs had taken on a brighter light, illuminating a space at the center of the room. Set upon a table was a half-built length of stone. Striations had been carved into it and Tolan reached for it, running his fingers along it. Resting next to the length of stone was a piece of metal, and he lifted it, twisting it between his fingers, feeling as if he had seen it before, but how—and where?

  Setting the metal back down, he walked around the table, staring at the stone. There was power within it, though Tolan didn’t know quite why that should be. It seemed to hang within the air, a kind of power that filled the room, a sensation of warmth.

  He turned, and once again everything spun, blurring past him.

  Now he stood in front of an enormous lacquered table. Chunks had been broken free, and parts of the tabletop seemed as if they had been burned, while others were still smooth, slicked over, flattened. A gentle breeze blew through the room, catching his cloak. He was seated at a bench, and he looked down at hands more callused than he remembered. He was running a file over a piece of stone. Within the stone was power.

  Of course, there would be. He had placed that power there. It had taken a shaping, storing it within the stone, but adding to it the memory of other powers, combining them together so others would be able to reach for that same power.

  He worked slowly, using the rasp to run his hands alon
g the stone, but it wasn’t the metal that did the work. It was a shaping that drew out from his hands, drawing along the length of the stone, and within that shaping came the power needed to change it.

  With each steady movement, the stone continued to change, growing, evolving.

  As he worked, he became aware of how the stone was changing. It wasn’t so much how it was changing outside, though that was a part of it. Placing the runes upon the surface gave it power, locking it in, but it was how it was changed inside that really mattered. There was a connection required, and within that connection, he was able to add patterns, twisting very subtle strands of metal he’d woven within, forming a series of connections that shaped the overall bondar.

  Tolan spun, and everything swam around him again.

  A bondar. He had memories of a bondar being formed?

  How was that even possible?

  He knew how it was possible. The Grand Inquisitor had placed those memories in his mind, forcing him to recall it so she could accuse him of more. He had little doubt she would use that against him. Regardless of whatever he might do or say to deny it, she was determined to make him out as the traitor.

  When the movement stopped, he was in a different place. Light streamed in through a window. A long counter rested in front of him. A roll of dough sat untouched near the window. It was rising, giving a smell of bread and yeast. The oven radiated heat, giving off a soft warmth, and now he stood there, rolling his hands along the surface of the counter, twisting the strand of dough as he worked.

  As he did, he recognized it wasn’t dough at all but something else.

  Twisting had purpose. Power flowed into it. The same way as before, there were shapings placed, runes added, a series of them, so many he could barely keep track. Dozens upon dozens, all tiny, smaller than any eye could see, and woven in such a way they were all interconnected.

  The band was sealed, and hands were cupped around it. The shaping that built was unfamiliar to him, but the power that came from it was incredible. As it built, it flowed into the band, power rising more and more until it crackled within the air.