“Aerie jewels,” Hildegaard said as she took it. “I’ve only heard of them in stories. I can certainly see now why men would kill for them.”
Gemynd kept his mouth shut, but her words made his chest tighten with longing for home.
Hildegaard studied the dagger for several moments, rubbing her thumb over every jewel and tracing the outline of the inscription. Then, to Gemynd’s surprise, she handed it back to him.
“Now, tell me about your glinting powers thus far,” she said as she put Gemynd’s sack over her shoulder. “Since you are older than most of the students I’ve worked with, it would be helpful to know our starting point.”
“I’ve caused objects to move by just thinking about it,” he said cautiously, not wanting to reveal any details about what he’d done to Lumon.
Hildegaard nodded. “Psychanimation,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s the basic skill of all Iturtians. Anything else?”
Gemynd hesitated, then said, “I was able to communicate with someone using only my mind.”
Hildegaard looked impressed. “Psychspeak,” she explained. “Normally considered an advanced skill learned at the end of level one or beginning of level two. Anything else?”
Gemynd shook his head.
Hildegaard clasped her hands behind her back, while holding Gemynd’s bag, and began pacing back and forth in the tiny room. Gemynd continually had to step out of her way.
“Here is our plan for your training then,” she said after several moments. “Because you already know what psychanimation feels like for you, becoming adept at the skill is merely a matter of practice. We will not take up any instructional time on it, but you are to use your own time for practice. Of course, if you need assistance with any part of it, just ask me. We will focus our passive training on psychspeak and psychpersuasion.”
“Psychpersuasion?” Gemynd asked.
“Lesson one,” Hildegaard said authoritatively. “You can psychspeak or psychpersuade freely with lesser beings. This means you can put thoughts in the minds of those beneath you. You can simply speak to them, as you have already experienced, or you can put thoughts in their heads making them believe the thoughts are their own.”
“What?” Gemynd asked in shock. “I would never do such a thing! I would never control another person that way.”
Hildegaard gave him a dubious look and pressed on. “As I said, this can only be done with lesser beings, to be specific, Terrenes and Zobanites. You cannot go into the mind of another Iturtian or an Empyrean without permission. This is what you are going to learn right now. When one Iturtian asks another for permission to enter their mind, it is called nudging, because that is what it feels like. I will show you now.”
Gemynd watched Hildegaard and immediately felt exactly what she said he would. It was a sensation of being gently nudged in the brain.
“If you do not wish to open your mind to this type of communication, do nothing. Or, you may grant permission simply by having a thought of consent. You can also open two-way communication by nudging back to the nudger in response. Would you like to try it?”
Gemynd nodded eagerly, thinking this sounded like great fun. Again, he felt a distinct nudging sensation on his brain and he simply thought the phrase ‘nudge back.’ And suddenly he felt a channel open between his mind and Hildegaard’s.
Hildegaard cheered in his mind. “You impress me again,” she said to his mind. “I have never before had a student succeed at nudging on their first attempt.”
“All I did was think about it,” Gemynd said without moving his mouth.
“When you are finished, you simply imagine closing a door. It is important to do this or the other person will have access to your thoughts until you do. Try it now.”
Gemynd closed his eyes and pictured a door being closed. Instantly, he felt the communication channel close and his mind was once again his own.
“Brilliant!” Hildegaard exclaimed. “Well, as with psychanimation, I ask you to practice your new skills every chance you get. And it looks like we will be spending most of our time together doing active training.”
“What is active training?” Gemynd asked.
“You will find out soon enough,” Hildegaard replied. “But first, it is time for you to meet the Director.”
Gemynd followed Hildegaard out of his room, down the stairs and once again entered the common room. There were even more people there than had been before and now some of them were speaking aloud. Gemynd looked at the faces, wondering if he would ever call any of them ‘friend.’ As Hildegaard had said, a good portion of the people were younger than Gemynd, with several looking to be tens or even nines. But the others seemed to range from fifteens to fifties. And, from what Gemynd could see, they were a decidedly unattractive bunch. Most were pale with sunken faces and shadows beneath their eyes. And on every face, Gemynd saw at least one scar.
“This way,” Hildegaard said and led them to the hallway she had pointed out earlier as being the way to the Director’s chambers.
Gemynd peered down the hallway, noticing that it, too, was lacking in illumination. “With so many brilliant minds all in one place, why hasn’t anyone come up with a better lighting system here? It is quite dark everywhere we go,” he said.
Hildegaard stopped walking and pinned Gemynd with a look that said she was clearly displeased. “Everything here is exactly as it is meant to be,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “The Director is waiting.”
She turned on her heel and walked back into the common room, leaving Gemynd alone in the hallway. Assuming it would lead him to the Director, he followed it. The hallway continued straight for eighty paces, then turned right sharply and continued in that direction for a mere fifteen paces before ending at a staircase that went up. Gemynd took the stairs and found that they ended at a small landing. Before him were three identical-looking doors. He looked around for any signs to indicate which room he should choose. When he found none, he decided to enter the room directly in front of him.
As he entered, he saw a man sitting at a desk reading by the inadequate light of a tiny oil lamp. The man looked up and Gemynd froze. He felt he was suddenly staring at his own reflection. Same eyes, same nose, same mouth, same hair. Without thinking, Gemynd reached up and touched his own cheek just to see if his reflection would follow. It didn’t.
A smile spread across the man’s face as he got to his feet. “You’re here. My son,” he said and walked over to Gemynd, placing his hands on Gemynd’s shoulders. “I have waited a very long time for this day.”
Gemynd reeled backward until his back was against a wall. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart and his own short, panting breaths. “Wha...what?” he stammered, never taking his eyes off the man.
“Do not be afraid,” the man said in a soothing voice. “I am your father, Gemynd.”
Gemynd felt his eyes go wide. “My father?” he asked, and gripped at the wall with his fingertips, trying to find something to hold onto. All his mother had ever told him was that his father left Aerie. She never told him why nor where he had gone. But here he was. There was no mistaking it, this man was Gemynd’s father. And he was the Director of Iturtia.
“I knew you’d come here sooner or later. I’d always hoped for sooner. But you’re here now,” his father said and took Gemynd by the hand, pulling him away from the wall. “And just look at you. So handsome.”
Gemynd touched his cheek again, this time wanting to make sure this was real and he hadn’t fallen into a strange dream. “I look like you,” he said.
“Yes,” his father said and laughed. “Like I said, very handsome.”
“My father,” Gemynd repeated, still dumbfounded.
“My name is Golath,” his father said. “That’s what you may call me if you do not wish to call me ‘father’.”
“Is this where you’ve always been?” Gemynd asked as his thoughts began taking form again.
Golath nodded. “I’ve been here waiting for you. P
lease, sit down, let me get to know you,” he said and guided them to two wooden chairs. “One of the benefits of being Director is having furniture.”
Gemynd sat down and continued to stare at this man he’d just discovered was his father. As a child he’d dreamed of this moment, but had given up all hope of it years ago. “Why did no one tell me where you were?” he asked.
Golath just shook his head. “I don’t have the answer to that. But I can tell you that Terrenes like their secrets,” he said and gave Gemynd a smile.
“Did you send word that you were here? Perhaps no one in Aerie knew,” Gemynd persisted.
Golath was quiet for several moments and then asked, “What did they tell you?”
“My mother told me that the night I was born you left. She didn’t know why. She only remembers you saying that you would not force her to go with you,” Gemynd explained quickly and the questions he had long ago stuffed away now erupted to the surface. “Why did you leave? How could you hurt mother that way? She loved you and I don’t think she has ever stopped mourning you. Sometimes she has a certain look in her eye and I just know she is thinking of you. Did you not love her as she loved you?”
Golath turned to face Gemynd, emotion strong in his eyes. “Your mother was everything to me. My whole heart belonged to her. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her, that I haven’t thought of her. Or you.”
“Then why did you leave?” Gemynd demanded to know.
Golath walked back behind his desk and stood with his face to the stone wall as though there was a window in it. “I am saddened that you were not told the truth before now,” he said and then walked back and once again sat across from Gemynd. “I was a fifteen when I was first sent here for training. Already wildly in love with your mother, I promised to return. And I did. At eighteen, I went back to Aerie. At first, it was glorious. Every moment of being reunited with your mother was pure Joy. We got married right away. But the training I’d received here made me see Aerie in a new light and I could no longer feel at home there. However, I had given your mother my vow and so I decided to make it work as best as I could.
“The night you were born, the bells rang and we were all told that bandits were coming. I’d heard stories of bandits before. I knew they would do more than steal our jewels. They would rape our women and kill our children. Your mother was so utterly vulnerable as she laid helplessly on that bedsack, her body wracked with birthing pains. I thought at first I would stand in the doorway and fight them off one-by-one if they tried to enter the sleeping house. But then it occurred to me that I had the power to stop the bandits from even reaching Aerie in the first place. After all, I was a glinter, an Iturtian glinter. So that’s what I did. I moved the earth with my mind until the hillsides crumbled and Aerie was safe atop a cliff.”
“You did it with your mind,” Gemynd mused aloud, the pieces falling into place.
“Yes,” Golath said and a flash of anger passed through his eyes. “And because of that I had to leave. I did not choose to leave Aerie. I was banished.”
“Glinting is forbidden in Aerie,” Gemynd said.
“It did not matter that I had saved the whole village,” Golath said, bitterness in voice. “I broke the rules and there were no exceptions.”
Gemynd clearly recalled the story his mother had told him about his father leaving. “Mother must not have known,” he said, refusing to accept that his mother had intentionally lied to him.
“I’m sure your mother did what was best,” Golath said. “But she did know. She was there when I was banished. I’ll never forget that tear-streaked face. Because I loved her as much as I did, I refused to influence her thoughts. I easily could have persuaded her mind into going with me, but I wanted her to have that power of choice that the Deis supposedly gifted us with.”
“Mother is Terrene,” Gemynd interrupted. “She couldn’t have come to Iturtia with you.”
“That is only a rule on the Terrene side of things. Here in Iturtia, we welcome anyone who wishes to be here,” Golath said. “Though, as you’ll see, few outsiders choose to come.”
Gemynd tried to imagine his mother in Iturtia. No sunlight, no flowers, no waterfall, no Baldaquin tree. “Do you think she would have found Joy here?” he asked.
“I guess we’ll never know,” Golath said with sadness. “I begged her to come with me. Pleaded with her. But she chose Aerie.”
“Aerie was her home,” Gemynd said in his mother’s defensive.
“And I her one true love,” Golath retorted. “An impossible choice, I know. One I hope you will never have to face.”
Gemynd didn’t even have to think about it. Not even Aerie meant more to him than Numa. If he was ever faced with such a choice, he would choose Numa every time. “Didn’t you ever even want to see me? Your son?” Gemynd asked.
“I did see you. Once. I saw you come into this world. Even then one would have to be blind not to see that you favored me. From that first moment, I loved you,” he said and Gemynd looked down at the floor, feeling awkward that this stranger’s love would swell his heart so much. “I loved you so much that I knew you deserved a life in Aerie with your mother. But because I was banished, I could never contact you. When I left, I came straight to Iturtia. I was not much older than you are now, but I knew that one day I would see you here. So I worked my way up through the ranks and became Director of this place. All the while awaiting my son’s arrival. And here you are.”
“Here I am,” Gemynd said and smiled. “Reunited with my father at last.”
“I’ve missed so much,” Golath said. “You’re fully grown now. Come, tell me everything. Tell me about your entire life.”
Gemynd wasn’t sure where to begin. “The night I was born, two others were born,” he said, remembering the story his mother had told him time and again.
“Yes, I remember,” Golath said. “A girl they named Numa and the Zobanites brought Soman, I believe.”
“Soman is a Zobanite,” Gemynd said, confirming his own suspicion.
“Another bit of truth that was kept from you?” Golath asked. “I’m sure the Keepers wanted to keep Soman in Aerie as long as possible. A Zobanite is a handy thing to have around.”
“He could always do the work of many men,” Gemynd said. “I suppose the truth was always right in front of me. I chose not to see it.”
“Were you and Soman good friends?” Golath asked.
“All three of us are very good friends. We were the only three that year and so we formed a very close bond. We rarely spent a moment apart in all our seventeen years.”
“This is the first time you’ve been separated from them?”
“Yes, and Numa is now my wife,” Gemynd blurted, believing it to be true in his heart.
“Is she?” Golath asked, raising his eyebrows. “Is she a glinter?”
Gemynd shook his head. “I don’t believe so. Although there was a time when I wondered if she was. At the Feast of Sevens there was a piece of silver that seemed to fold itself in half right before our eyes.”
“Yes, that is certainly something you could have done. It is easy for an Iturtian to move objects with our minds that would be impossible to do with our bodies.”
“But it wasn’t me,” Gemynd said. “And Numa was the only one staring at the piece of metal.”
A look of understanding came over Golath’s face. “An Empyrean,” he said knowingly. “That makes sense. As I recall, Numa’s mothers are Empyreans. A wife whose thoughts you cannot control. You signed yourself up for a lot of work, my boy. You’ll have to get her permission before you can enter her mind.”
“She’s worth it,” Gemynd replied.
“Tell me more,” Golath said. “What job have you been assigned in Aerie?”
“I have spent the last several years studying to be a Keeper,” Gemynd said proudly. “Although that will have to change now that I’ve taken a wife.”
Golath threw his head back and laughed until his whole body shook. “An Itu
rtian Keeper!” he said. “Well, that would certainly be a first.”
“What do you mean?” Gemynd said, not at all understanding why this was so funny.
“Most Iturtians know that the Book of Life is nonsense,” Golath said by way of explanation. “It’s merely a device created long ago by Keepers to maintain control; to prevent any shifts in power.”
Gemynd was speechless.
“Oh, son, haven’t you seen by now that it is the Keepers who run all of Todor?” Golath continued. “It was the Keepers who long ago decided to put a Terrene on the throne and everything they have done since then has been for the purpose of maintaining that power, including writing The Book.”
“It’s not true,” Gemynd said, shaking his head adamantly.
Golath raised a hand in a placating gesture. “Just think about it. Who makes the rules in Aerie? Who makes the decisions for everyone else?”
“But they are the wisest members of Aerie and so they can make the best decisions.”
Again, Golath laughed. “You have more wisdom in a single hair of your head, than all of those Keepers do put together.”
“I don’t know,” Gemynd said quietly. “They have studied the book far longer than I.”
Golath leaned back in his chair. “Is Keeper Clary still the Elder there?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a Zobanite,” Golath said.
Gemynd tried to picture the feeble old man who had trouble walking from one place to the next having the strength of a Zobanite like Soman. “He is?” he asked.
“He is a very, very old Zobanite, but a Zobanite nonetheless,” Golath replied. “I think only he knows how old he is, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he had been around when The Book was first drafted.”
Gemynd laughed, thinking that his father was jesting. “That would make him at least five thousand years old.”
“Yes,” Golath replied simply. “Although most Zobanites have the mental acuity of a rock, they were gifted with near immortality. Their aging processes are extremely slow due to their bodies’ abilities to heal. This is also why they are impervious to disease and why any wounds or injuries they sustain heal almost instantly. I imagine that they do die of old age at some point, though, based on what I know of Keeper Clary, a Zobanite’s natural life span is too long to count. They can be killed, however, simply by inflicting a wound that cannot heal, in particular, decapitation.”
Revelation: The Todor Trilogy, Book One Page 15