“Of course,” Tam said. “If any of the commissioners needs to speak with you, they will be in touch.” Tam was practically vibrating with excitement and anticipation, and his gelding snorted and bobbed his head in reaction, showing more spirit than he had since Adrienne had first seen the animal.
“What now?” Adrienne asked, scanning the crowds. There were inns and taverns, storefronts and the occasional vendor selling wares on the street. People went this way and that, some shopping, others with less apparent destinations.
Nowhere did Adrienne see signs of people being trained to unlock special abilities, although she was sure that was what the commission was doing in Kessering. Tam had practically said as much when he was telling her stories of what he had seen. Adrienne did not comment on the lack of noticeable Talents in the city so far. Tam probably thought her too dim to make the connection between what he had said and the reality of what was being done here, and there was no point in disillusioning him at this late time.
Tam’s opinions no longer mattered to Adrienne. She was in Kessering now, and she had made her own notes and speculations based on what Tam had said and what she had read in Pele’s journal. From now on, she would focus on that.
“Now I must present you to the commission,” Tam said. “If you pass their inspection, you will begin your training in earnest.”
They dismounted their horses, and as Adrienne walked through the streets she noticed people looking at her out of the corners of their eyes. Some people stared more blatantly, or would look away quickly before looking back. People looked at Tam, too, as people leading horses through the streets tended to draw attention in a city as isolated as Kessering, but they did not look at Tam with the same wary look in their eyes as when they watched Adrienne. Their eyes never failed to take in the sword at her hip or the snug fitting leather swa’il that she wore. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
Adrienne and Tam passed carts selling trinkets and baked goods, and she was tempted to stop and buy a meat pie, a change from the stew they had been eating for the past weeks. Now wasn’t the time, but she marked the placement of the food cart for future reference. Children ran underfoot shrieking and laughing, and there were more women on the streets than men. It would take her awhile to adjust to the changes between camp life and city life.
When they reached the library where the commission met, Adrienne and Tam handed off their horses and received promises that both horses and baggage would be taken care of. Adrienne pressed instructions on the groom, who seemed happy to take care of such a magnificent animal as Strider. Adrienne was pleased to receive at least a few good words after three weeks of criticism, even if those words were only about her horse.
“Time to move, Adrienne,” Tam said when she started instructing the stable boy on Strider’s shoes and inquiring after a farrier. “The commission is waiting.”
••••••
Adrienne knew as soon as they were shown to the commission that the majority of the people on the commission were scholars, and no doubt delighted—as Tam was—by the tomes surrounding them. On the way in she had noticed that the back of the library looked more like living quarters than a place for books, and she wondered how many scholars lived in the library as well as spent their days there.
“Tam, welcome home,” an elderly man said after a clerk had announced them. “I see you found someone who might be suitable?” Though she kept her face carefully neutral and her stance relaxed, she noted the skeptical look in his eyes and had to force herself not to speak.
“Yes, Elder Rynn. May I present to the commission Adrienne Rydaeg?”
“Lieutenant Adrienne Rydaeg,” Adrienne corrected, stepping forward and giving a short, quick bow, holding her sword back with a practiced move. “Formerly in charge of recruit training at Kyrog.”
“You seem rather young to be a lieutenant,” the woman sitting to Elder Rynn’s left said. She was the only female commissioner, and Adrienne thought she was probably a noble, not a scholar, and given a place on the commission for political reasons.
“Lady Chessing, I was assured that Ad-er-Lieutenant Rydaeg had a great deal of experience as a soldier,” Tam told the noblewoman. “The captain at Kyrog recommended her above all others.” He smiled in a way that was no doubt meant to be persuasive, but fell short in Adrienne’s opinion. It was obvious he did not believe his own words when it came to her abilities, despite what he had witnessed firsthand on their journey here.
“We will interview her before judging if she is suitable or not,” Elder Rynn said. Adrienne knew without being told that he was the leader of the commission. She directed her full attention to him, blocking out Lady Chessing and the rest of the commission for the time being.
Adrienne did her best to answer the commission’s questions while maintaining her poise. It was not that the questions bothered her, but rather the fact that many of the questions and their answers seemed inconsequential, such as her favored pastimes and whether she preferred the wet or dry season on the plains. She sensed the same disapproval from the commissioners as she had from Tam and Ilso regarding her profession as a soldier and wondered once again why any soldier had been selected to come back to Kessering. The questions they asked regarding her soldiering skills were vague at best, and they seemed not to know what questions to ask or what answers to listen for.
They may have gone looking for a soldier, but they did not seem to want one.
Only the young man seated at the end of the table seemed to be regarding her without a heavy layer of doubt or dislike. The way he watched her projected interest, not skepticism.
After the commission’s questions had been answered to the best of Adrienne’s abilities, they held a short, hushed discussion right there at the table. Elder Rynn finally called everyone to attention after the discussion wound down. “The majority have found Lieutenant Adrienne Rydaeg suitable for the commission’s purposes. The minority has conceded. She will commence with her training.”
His words had a ceremonial ring to them, and she wondered who was there besides the commissioners, Tam, and herself to notice or care. And she wondered about the precedence of this event for it to warrant such ceremony. How many before her had been found suitable to begin training? Tens or hundreds, she could not begin to guess.
And now she was one of them.
“Now, Adrienne, I must ask how much you know about the commission and Kessering,” Elder Rynn said in a voice dry as old parchment.
Adrienne told them all that Tam had told her, and all that she had learned from reading the old journal. “My best guess is that this commission is using Kessering as a place to train people to use special abilities, and that these abilities will somehow be used in the war efforts against Almet.”
Clearly taken by surprise, the commissioners began to talk excitedly amongst themselves until Elder Rynn slapped his hand loudly on the table and got their attention. He glanced over at Tam, but directed his words at her. “Did Tam tell you this?”
“Not explicitly. I reached this conclusion on my own, based on the purpose of this commission, what stories Tam told, and the information found in the journal.” Adrienne could see the doubt on their faces. For once she wished that she was older, and wearing a fine dress instead of the worn leather swa’il that was so practical for riding or fighting. If she had come to them without a sword and many days’ worth of sweat and dust clinging to her, they might not doubt her intelligence. Had she looked different, a mature lady instead of a young soldier, her reception may not have been as rude.
Such thoughts seemed traitorous to everything Adrienne had ever worked for, and she wished immediately to unthink them. “Your goal is to end the war, once and for all,” Adrienne said, making an effort to sound sure of herself. “It would be insanity to think you could do this by the same means that have been used before, but if there is a way for people to develop extraordinary Talents that the other side does not possess…”
“Ther
e is,” Elder Rynn said. “Over the past five years, we have managed to produce over twenty people with abilities.”
The information shook her. For all that she had suspected this to be their goal, and despite what Tam had told her, she had expected to come here and find that they had achieved only limited success at best. She had never really considered the possibility that they had already succeeded with such a large number of people. Visions of people going to Almet, controlling fire and throwing the enemy back with just their thoughts, filled her mind. It would change the war more than any weapon. “That is amazing! Can they really do all that the tales say they can? Even the journal talks about—”
The clearing of a throat cut her off. It was another commissioner, a man slightly younger than Elder Rynn and wearing a mustard yellow jacket. “There is a complication that we did not anticipate when we began training people to unlock abilities,” he said in a voice surprisingly effeminate for such a large man.
“That is an understatement, Franklin,” Lady Chessing said. “What we have is not a complication, it’s a disaster!”
It was clear to Adrienne that Lady Chessing did not take any blame for the disaster herself, but placed it all on the other commissioners.
“What complication?” Adrienne asked, wishing Tam had spent more time explaining what was happening in Kessering rather than focusing on the journal. She hated being two steps behind.
“There are limitations that none of us expected,” Franklin of the yellow jacket said. “At first, we tried training the commission members, and then scholars. It seemed wise that such powers be limited to logical and intelligent individuals.”
“However, the training did not yield the results we had hoped for,” Elder Rynn said, taking up for Franklin.
“Why not?”
“For one, it seems you must be young to develop an ability.” He shook his head slightly, as though regretting that limitation.
Adrienne was not surprised to hear that, although she could sympathize with the old man’s disappointment. Not only had Ilso and Tam asked for a young soldier in Kyrog, but the author of the journal had often used “older” and “more experienced” synonymously, as he had used “young” and “new,” as though there were no older Talented who were not experienced. “That isn’t so unexpected,” Adrienne said. “Some skills are easier to develop when young.”
Karse had been the one to tell Adrienne that.
No one looked happy with Adrienne’s observation. “Age is not the only limitation,” Elder Rynn said in his dry voice. “Some people seem unable to develop an ability, no matter how hard they try, and those who do develop abilities are not able to use them outside of the individual’s usual scope.”
Adrienne shook her head, confused and wondering why he did not just say what he meant. Captain Garrett would never have taken so long getting to the point. “Scope of what?”
Elder Rynn gestured for the young man sitting at the end of the table to explain. He did not seem old enough to have a place on the commission, and Adrienne wondered why the explanation was left to him rather than to the elder or Franklin. Even Chessing.
“I was the first to develop an ability,” the young man said proudly, answering Adrienn’s unspoken question. “I had been studying and trying different methods to do so for nearly two years before anything manifested, but I was finally successful.”
“What can you do?” Adrienne asked, giving him a closer study. He did not look different from any of the scholars, except that he was the youngest and the only one who was not looking at her with thinly veiled distaste.
He smiled. “I can memorize.”
“Memorize?” Adrienne repeated. Tam had mentioned this, but she had forgotten it in light of all the other, more exciting Talents he’d told her about.
He nodded. “Everything I read, hear, see, I can remember with perfect recall. These memories are chronicled in my brain, perfectly organized like a book or the catalog in a library. It is really quite remarkable. And useful,” he added in a defensive tone, crossing his thin arms in front of him. Some of the other scholars looked proud or even envious, but the non-scholars did not look happy, and Lady Chessing looked disgusted.
“A fat lot of good that does us, Ben,” Lady Chessing said. “All it means is that you will remember perfectly our utter failure as a commission when the king finds out what’s happening here.”
“I don’t consider it a total failure,” the young man said, stung by the woman’s criticism. “My ability proved that our methods were effective, and we have been able to improve them since.”
“So all you do is memorize?” Adrienne asked.
The man smiled ruefully. “That’s all I can do, yes. Other abilities have manifested with different people, but they all appear to be extensions of the person’s, well, the person’s profession, you might say.”
“Like a scholar memorizing,” Adrienne said, nodding. “A memory such as you described must be a tremendous asset in scholarly pursuits.”
“Exactly so,” he said, his smile growing and becoming more genuine. “Other scholars have developed an ability to read with incredible speed, or detect books without having to search the shelves. The abilities really are incredibly useful.”
“Just not for the purposes of this commission,” Adrienne said with growing understanding. From what she had heard, this commission had one objective, and so far the results were not in their favor. “Have people other than scholars been trained?”
“Of course,” Franklin said. “We began training healers after we noticed the pattern in the abilities scholars were developing. Healers seemed to be the best choice,” Franklin explained, “as they are intelligent and dedicated to their craft, and seemed unlikely to abuse any abilities they might develop.”
“We did not want to give power to people who would use it unwisely,” Elder Rynn emphasized. The wrinkles lining his dark face served to emphasize his hard expression, and Adrienne began to see why they had a problem with her, a soldier, being brought in.
Soldiers could be dangerous.
Adrienne supposed that choosing the healers for the reasons they had made a sort of sense, but it also seemed to her that the commission had a somewhat naïve view of the world. Adrienne had met her fair share of healers over the years, there was always at least one in Kyrog, and like members of every profession, there were kind healers and cruel ones, gentle and spiteful. If they were so concerned with people who might misuse their powers, the commission would do better to look at individual personalities, not judge groups as a whole.
“Did any of the healers manifest Talents?” Adrienne asked, setting aside the commission’s apparent mistrust of everyone different from themselves. She had grown used to that view since leaving Kyrog. Tam had not trusted her, Ilso had hated her. Even the journal had presented a consistent diatribe against anything foreign.
“Oh, yes,” the young man Lady Chessing had called Ben said. He leaned forward, his expression animated. “The younger healers, some of them, developed abilities much more in line with the stories you are now familiar with.” Adrienne liked his enthusiasm, so different from the other commissioners’ staid dispositions. “They are able to heal wounds that should take weeks to heal, even some that would be fatal if given time.”
“Some of them can,” Elder Rynn said. “Like the scholars, the abilities differ from healer to healer.”
“Yes,” the young Talented scholar said, looking somewhat embarrassed to have Elder Rynn correct him. “Some of the healers with abilities can heal wounds like I mentioned. Others can mend broken bones in minutes, or break a fever. The medicine some of the healers make also seems more effective, usually in healers who were more along the lines of herbalists.”
Lady Chessing sniffed. “Why anyone would choose to see an herbalist now when you could get healed in minutes by a more skilled healer is beyond me. Why settle for second best?”
Adrienne saw the value in better medicines. A Talented healer would
doubtless be preferable when one was on hand, but medicine that was more effective would be a useful asset to someone like a soldier, as medicine could be carried with the person, whereas healers were much less portable. But then, some people did not look at the bigger picture.
“True, but it is still a manifested ability,” the young commissioner said.
“And a wonderful ability,” Adrienne said. “When it comes to battles, the ability to heal would almost be worth more than being able to cast fireballs.” Men died from stab wounds or infections that killed slowly as often, or even more often, than they died quickly on the field of battle.
Several of the commissioners shifted uncomfortably. Lady Chessing huffed, as if she did not believe Adrienne’s words.
“Although such abilities are remarkable,” Elder Rynn said, ignoring Adrienne’s comment as though she had never spoken, “they are still not what we need to put an end to this war.”
“Have you tried anyone more multipurpose than a scholar or a healer?” Adrienne asked, thinking that perhaps their careful selection process was what was limiting the commission.
“Of course,” Lady Chessing snapped, her bosom heaving. “I myself tried to learn, along with just about every young person in this city, provided we found them of suitable temperament.” By appearances, Lady Chessing was probably too old by more than a decade to learn, if Ben was any judge, and from the little Adrienne had seen so far she doubted that her temperament was suitable, but she did not voice her thoughts and instead waited to hear the woman out. “It seems that the only individuals that ever develop any abilities are those that are in one stupid profession or other. Scholars, healers, blacksmiths, even a weaver.”
Adrienne wondered what Talent would manifest in a weaver, and if Tam’s tale about blacksmiths making unbreakable weapons was true in the present, or if that was another Talent that had not yet been reclaimed. However, the list of people able to learn was more important than the particular abilities at the moment. “Not innkeepers or stable boys or merchants?” she asked.
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