by Dima Zales
Gwen looked a little uncomfortable. “Lord Cordus is gifted at influencing others.”
I’d seen that gift firsthand with the green man, but that was just one mind. I remembered that it was indelicate to ask about Seconds’ abilities. Still, how was I going to find out about these things if I didn’t ask?
“But millions of people live around here. Can he really influence that many people?”
“He doesn’t have to. A few key people needed influencing. I think they believe it’s a top-secret military installation. Everyone else still thinks it’s a park. But if they decide to come hiking here, they end up changing their minds at the last minute. If they notice cars coming and going, they forget about it. The roads and buildings don’t show up on satellite photos. The barrier around the property takes care of that sort of thing.”
At that moment, as I looked out across the lawn, it occurred to me that there might not be any meaningful limit to what Seconds could do in our world. What if one of them decided it was in their interest to assassinate a president? To cause a recession? To start a war? Maybe they’d been shaping our history from behind the scenes for a long time.
It was a shocking thought. I stood at the window, trying to collect myself.
“Come on,” Gwen said. “I’m hungry.”
There were between twenty and thirty people eating, and I knew fewer than half of them. The room was equipped with a variety of tables, some round, some square or rectangular. You could sit with just one other person, or as many as seven. All the tables were elaborately set with white linens and multiple dishes, glasses, and pieces of silverware. It was going to be a headache figuring out which things to use.
Gwen steered us toward Andy and Theo, the guys who’d been taking coats at court. They were alone at a four-top near the edge of the room. Once we all sat down, the three of them made me feel wispy. Gwen was very tall, and she looked like a bodybuilder. Andy and Theo were big men, both tall and brawny. I felt like a reed in comparison.
A waiter came and began serving us. Coffee and tea were offered, as well as water and a selection of juices. We placed orders for one of a handful of available entrées. I chose the omelet. Fruit and cereal, either hot or cold, were served while we waited for the main course to arrive. It was certainly the most elaborate breakfast experience I’d ever had.
Once I felt confident I wasn’t going to be approached with yet another set of food choices, I relaxed a little and turned my attention to my companions. I realized, seeing Theo and Andy up close, that they looked quite a bit alike.
“Are you guys brothers?”
“Yeah,” Theo said. “You got any siblings?”
“Yeah, an older brother.”
“Is he a Nolander?”
I shook my head.
“Too bad,” Andy said.
“Why’s that?”
“Families grow best if everyone gets some manure,” he said with a wink.
I laughed.
Theo and Andy might’ve reminded me a little of Williams when I first saw them, but they turned out to be quite friendly and perfectly capable of normal conversation.
After some questions about Dorf and life in rural Wisconsin, Andy asked what I was doing for the rest of the day.
“I guess Lord Cordus is going to start training me today,” I said.
Both men’s forks stopped halfway to their mouths. They glanced at Gwen, but she was looking down at her plate, concentrating on mopping up her egg yolk.
“He’s training you himself, is he?” Theo said.
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Andy said, recovering himself. “It’ll be fine. Just listen carefully, try hard, and be really polite.”
I nodded.
“And don’t be afraid to ask questions,” Theo added. “Just, you know, skip the dumb ones.” He grinned at me, breaking the tension.
Still, it wasn’t the most auspicious start to the day. By the time we finished and Gwen walked me to Cordus’s office, I was scared. I felt like I was walking into the proverbial lion’s den, except this den belonged to some sicko rapist lion.
She knocked on the door, then opened it a crack. “Lord Cordus, I’ve brought Miss Ryder.”
“Thank you, Miss Hegstrom. You may go on to other duties, now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gwen opened the door wider and nodded at me to go through. She even gave me an encouraging smile, which looked a little odd on her stern, weathered face.
My return smile felt more like a grimace. I blinked hard and took a deep breath. Then I headed in.
“Miss Ryder, your development is indeed anomalous.”
Cordus removed his fingertips from my arm and leaned back, studying me.
He and I were sitting in leather armchairs at one end of his office.
Actually, it was more like a library than an office — there was a desk at the other end, with several straight-backed chairs in front of it, but most of the room was given over to floor-to-ceiling shelving in some beautiful, dark wood. From what I could see, most of the books on the shelves looked old. Very old. Unlike in the dining room, there were few windows. The effect was cavelike.
It was the only room I’d seen on the estate that had any personality. I liked it. I wondered what it would be like in there on a winter night with a fire in the fireplace. Cozy. So long as Cordus wasn’t in there with you.
That said, once again, Cordus’s behavior hadn’t matched the horror of his reputation. He hadn’t tried anything inappropriate; in fact, he’d been polite.
I felt confused. Confused and fascinated. Fascinated and repulsed. It was hard not to stare at him, but when I did, I remembered that same stunning face impassively watching the green man tear itself apart.
At a loss, I’d retreated into the role of student. I was good at being a student, and I liked it. Good students didn’t think much about their teachers, and especially not their teachers’ looks. Instead, they thought about what they were studying.
He’d begun with exercises similar to what Graham had had me do at Rib Mountain — deep breathing and concentration. Then he’d asked if I could describe my sense of the worked-essence barrier he’d placed around us to keep our lesson private.
I’d told him I wasn’t aware of the barrier at all. That was when he’d touched me.
“How is it anomalous, exactly?” I asked.
“Did Mr. Ryzik explain to you the stages of development?”
I nodded.
“And he explained what it means to ‘see through’?”
“Being able to perceive workings and half-workings.”
“Correct. And did he explain what the term ‘capacity’ means?”
“Someone’s strength?”
“Yes. Capacity is a measure of one’s ability to work essence. When one is born, a tiny capacity is present, and it grows over time. When it reaches roughly two-thirds of its full potential, one achieves full sensory perception of worked essence.”
“What about gifts?” I asked.
“They usually remain latent for several more years.”
No wonder Graham’s approach to training me had struck a false note with the others.
“So why aren’t I developing like everyone else?”
“I believe your capacity lies at the root of the problem. As I said, one sees through when one’s capacity has reached roughly two-thirds of its full potential. I believe you began to see through significantly before your potential reached that mark. Therefore, your perception of worked essence is incomplete.”
“But aren’t I old for all this to start?”
“Yes. Seeing through in one’s early twenties is quite rare.”
“But …”
“Please ask your question, Miss Ryder.”
“It seems like I already have a fair amount of capacity. I had enough to power Mr. Williams’s shield for some time when we were on our way here.”
He looked at me in silence for several long seconds. Finally, he said, “Your percept
ion is correct.”
A chill ran through me. How strong was I going to be, when all this was said and done?
He allowed me to sit in silence for several minutes, digesting. Then he started back in.
“It would be useful to know what triggered your premature seeing through. Can you describe what, in retrospect, you believe to be the first signs that something unusual was happening?”
“There weren’t really any signs. I just took these two pictures that showed Seconds. It all seemed to happen suddenly, over a weekend.”
“According to Mr. Ryzik, you were diagnosed with panic disorder.”
“Yeah, but that was when I was six.”
“Did your condition worsen recently?”
“It got really bad when I tried to go to college, but that was years ago. Once I came home, it went back to what it was like before.”
“How do you feel between episodes?”
“Normal, I guess.”
“There has been no change?”
I thought about it. “Well, I guess I have been feeling a little antsier, lately. The photography helps with that. I figured Dorf was just getting to me, you know?”
“No, Miss Ryder, I do not know. Please explain.”
I felt myself flushing. “Well, it’s a nice town, but it’s really small. I never wanted to stay there my whole life. I wanted to see new places, new people. Do something meaningful. But after what happened in Madison, I realized I’d have to stay in Dorf. It was hard to accept.”
Cordus tilted his head. “And only five years later did your situation begin to ‘get to you’?”
“I guess …” It was sort of strange. “Maybe it was cumulative?”
“Perhaps. I take it you cannot trace your increasing discomfort to any particular moment or event?”
I shook my head.
“And how did you come to see half-workings with your own eyes?”
“Mr. Ryzik got me to see them. He took me to visit a Second I couldn’t see and then left me alone with him. When I got scared enough, I saw him.”
Cordus was surprised. The eyebrow went up.
“That approach was unwise,” he said. “Trying to stimulate someone’s capacity through fear or other powerful emotions can have unpredictable and dangerous results. I shall have to speak with Mr. Ryzik about his training methods.”
“I don’t think he knew that’s what he was doing. He seemed to think my conscious mind was just suppressing what I was seeing.”
Cordus looked at me in silence. I took it to mean the subject of Graham’s mistakes was not open for discussion.
Finally, his point seemingly made, he said, “I believe it is safe to proceed, so long as we move carefully. Our lessons must offer your capacity the opportunity to stabilize and grow without applying undue pressure.”
“Okay,” I said, stifling the impulse to ask how sure he was about the “safe” part.
He held his hand out between us, palm up.
“I have made a small, spherical working three centimeters above my hand. The nature of the working is to create heat: the air within the sphere is twenty degrees warmer than that in the room at large. Focus your attention on that spot. Try to sense the disruption in the pre-existing state of reality.”
I concentrated on the air above his palm. It looked perfectly normal. It didn’t feel safer or buzzier; it didn’t feel any way at all. It was just an empty space.
After about thirty seconds, Cordus closed his hand and had me relax for a few minutes. Then he had me try again, but with my eyes closed. No go. The third time, he had me reach out and touch the air above his hand. I could feel that it was warmer, but couldn’t sense anything else.
After five rounds, he sat back, and I got the feeling we were done.
“Miss Ryder, please do not attempt to sense workings, except during our lessons. Gentle stimulation of your capacity should do no harm and may help. Doing more than that would be unwise. Is that clear?”
I nodded. He held my gaze for a moment, apparently to convey how very much he meant it. Then he rose and retrieved a folder and a book from his desk.
“We shall meet again at the same time tomorrow,” he said, “and every day thereafter. In the meanwhile, please read the document in this folder. You will return it to me tomorrow. You may write on it, but do not copy it or take separate notes.”
I nodded and accepted the folder. It was slender. There couldn’t be more than a few pages in it.
“This,” he said, holding up the book, “is a textbook of Baasha, the common language of the S-Em. You will comprehend the first chapter before our next meeting. Please keep this book and any notes you make out of sight. Most Nolanders do not have the opportunity to pursue this line of study.”
I accepted the book with some trepidation. I’d taken French in high school and loved it, but the idea of being given an “opportunity” others didn’t get made me nervous. I took it to mean I’d end up doing things they didn’t have to do.
“Lunch is served in the dining room between 11:30 and 1:30,” Cordus continued. “I have asked Miss Hegstrom to accompany you to that meal today and to give you a tour of the estate afterwards. I hope you will learn your way around quickly.”
I nodded and stood and, after a hesitation, thanked him for his time. It seemed the polite thing to do, even though the lessons were clearly compulsory. He nodded graciously, accepting my thanks, and I left, relieved to have gotten through the first lesson without pissing him off or becoming another unwilling notch on his bedpost.
“Can you ride?” Gwen asked.
She and I were leaning on the top rail of a white wooden fence, watching a handful of horses graze.
“Yeah, sort of. I mean, I’ve never had lessons or anything, but my best friend grew up on a farm. They had horses, and we used to ride them a lot. Mostly just bareback around the farm.”
I turned back to watch the horses.
“I really like them. They smell good.”
Gwen looked at me like I had a screw loose, and I blushed, suddenly feeling like an eight-year-old with a bedroom full of unicorn posters and My Little Ponies.
“Well, different strokes, I guess,” she said. “I’ve had to do stable duty before. What comes out of the back of them sure doesn’t smell good.”
I wouldn’t mind doing stable duty — I thought horse shit was pretty innocuous. But I didn’t say so.
We’d already walked over some of the grounds, and Gwen had pointed out several trailheads for biking, running, and hiking, warning me to stay alert for the barrier that surrounded the estate. I wasn’t to try crossing through it for any reason — doing so would be dangerous. I didn’t mention that I probably wouldn’t know it was there until I ran into it. I figured I’d just stay near the house.
She’d also shown me the garage, tennis court, and outdoor pool. The stable was the last stop.
After seeing the grounds, we embarked on a full tour of the house. It had four wings, one of which held Cordus’s private quarters. That was a no-go zone, except when invited. The other three wings were full of suites and small apartments for Nolanders. The place could house well over a hundred comfortably and three times that number if people shared space.
Gwen had taken me to see her apartment, which was much larger and fancier than mine. It was also full of weapons — not only guns, but also blades, bows, spears, axes, and other things I couldn’t have named. Apparently Gwen was a serious collector. Many of the more beautiful items were displayed on the walls, but she also had an entire room dedicated to storage.
We talked shop about some of her guns. I didn’t know much about the more exotic firearms she showed me, but it’s hard to grow up in a rural area and not get acquainted with rifles and shotguns — hunting is a big part of life in northern Wisconsin. And even though Mom’s handgun was pretty basic, she’d enjoyed browsing the newer models whenever she took me shooting. I’d picked up enough over the years to hold up my end of the conversation, which I hoped made
me seem less little-girly in the wake of the horses-smell-good thing.
In addition to the apartments, each wing contained recreation areas; a small kitchen; laundry facilities; and a walk-in supply closet full of bedding, towels, toiletries, and cleaning products. Gwen pointed out the unscented shampoo, conditioner, soap, and deodorant to me and explained that many non-humanoid Seconds had very sensitive noses. It was considered rude to wear perfumes around them, so the policy was to avoid scented products entirely. Smoking was prohibited for the same reason.
The central part of the house had several subbasements. I’d visited one of those levels briefly when we used the underground tunnel to the garage. Most of the basement space was dedicated to athletic facilities: an indoor pool; extensive weight and cardio rooms; racquetball and basketball courts; and several rooms set up for martial arts, gymnastics, and other punishing activities. It all gave me a sinking feeling that I’d soon be getting a lot sweatier than I liked.
The basement also housed a sophisticated medical facility. Gifted healers like Kara, as well as regular doctors and nurses, were present at all times to deal with emergencies and dispense routine care. Next to the “clinic,” which really looked more like a mini-hospital, was a large lending library. That was a much happier discovery for me. I didn’t have a chance to explore it, but I hoped they had some things I’d like to read.
Above ground, the main part of the house was all public rooms. A vast ballroom took up the center, but there were at least a dozen smaller rooms for meetings, receptions, parties, and so forth. The Nolanders’ quarters had been sized for humans, but the public rooms seemed to have been built to accommodate larger creatures — all had at least twelve-foot ceilings, and the doors were oversized. So was some of the furniture.
The central part of the house also had a number of bathrooms. Some of them had facilities I’d never seen before. Gwen paused to chat with someone, so I poked around in one of the strange ones. It had a toilet that was basically a three-foot-wide sunken tub. When you flushed it, which you did with a floor pedal, a large central hole opened up and tons of water cascaded down the sides.
What sort of creature would require such a thing? I tried to picture Ghosteater squatting at the edge and pooping. It was hard to imagine.