“It’s not dampening.” Hitterol’s voice seemed to float in Ker’s mind. She felt it as the Mind-healer’s shudder of fear and disgust touched the others. “It’s like it, but . . . no, not exactly the same. But there could be real, permanent damage if we’re not successful.”
Perhaps because Ker’s Flash was strengthened by the others’ Gifts, the net’s light was bright enough to obscure rather than illuminate. In fact, now that she was concentrating on it, the net was all she could see. “It’s too bright.” Now there were hands on her shoulders and fingers gripping her elbows, and Midon’s was the voice in her mind.
“See around the web, see into the through and the beyond.” She let Midon take the lead and the brightness dimmed. But she still couldn’t see where the net was fastened.
“It isn’t really a net,” Midon said. “That’s just the way your mind makes sense of it. Don’t be limited by these images, approach from all sides.”
Ker staggered backward, but warm hands kept her from going down. They had dimmed the brightness of the net, but it seemed that by touching it, by manipulating it, they had made it aware of them. Lines of light reformed, almost like the stiff antennas of insects, and began to reach out from the net that held Tel.
“Quick, quick! Can you see it?” It was her special Talent to see, to understand the nature and purpose of something, of someone. The griffin’s gift allowed her to do that without having to touch the object—something that Ker thought might be a very lucky thing right now. Something told her that if she had to touch that net of light, it might be the last thing the real Kerida Nast would ever do.
But now it was reaching out, not just for her, but for the people helping her. As Hitterol and Midon had done for her, she showed them what she was seeing, shared her Gift with them, gave them her understanding of the light. She felt someone lift her arms and, suddenly knowing what was wanted, she held out her hands, palms flat toward the spears of light that threatened them. The closest one stopped moving, even began to retreat, and Ker saw her own aura, wrapped and braided tight by the auras of the Feelers, pushing back on it. But shafts of red still approached, growing like icicles.
As they shoved and parried, Ker realized they weren’t going to win. They could only stop one or two of the light spears at a time. There were too many. Eventually, one would break through and touch them. What would happen then? Would they remember who and what they’d been before the net captured them?
She felt a little push at her inner spaces, where blocks and barriers still lived. She’d felt this push before. Weimerk!
“Go,” she called to him. “Escape while you can!”
Instead, the push continued. He doesn’t understand, she thought. He didn’t see the danger he was in. He’d helped her once before, brushing her blocks aside to help her in her first encounter with the auras. For the first time, Ker deliberately dropped her blocks herself, allowing the griffin to see what she saw, sense what she sensed.
And this time, Weimerk showed her not just what she could do, but what all of them together could do. Their auras intensified, fed by the colors of the griffin, their light blazing, brighter, brighter still, the lines of the net curling back from them now, dimming, shriveling smaller and smaller, until it was once again just a net trapping Tel Cursar’s aura, patterned like the facets of Svann’s jewel.
<
Together, Ker and the Feelers focused their auras on the net, concentrated as it unraveled and unwove, until they brushed it away like a cobweb.
Ker took a deep breath. Felt how the auras around her calmed, the colors steadied, no longer swirling and spiking into waves, but flowing gently. She felt hands tighten on her arms and blinked, looking up.
“Kerida? Ker? Is that you?”
That was a look she hadn’t seen on Tel’s face for some time. He leaned forward and kissed her, just before collapsing to the floor.
• • •
When Ker entered the room they’d been given, Wynn was sitting on a three-legged stool next to Tel’s bed, watching over him as he slept.
“How is he?”
“Better than you, it seems.” Wynn’s smile twisted when Ker pushed her hair off her forehead with trembling hands. “You look ready to drop. Here.” She stood and gave her seat to Ker.
Ker sank onto the stool, feeling the strain in her knees for the first time.
“You know, I used to think it might be nice to have the Talent.” Wynn’s voice was quiet as air.
Ker pressed her hands together between her knees. It was hard to keep herself from touching Tel. “It’s useful. I’m not so sure about ‘nice.’”
“Well, I mean, you’d be able to tell, wouldn’t you? You’d know if someone really loved you. Whether it was real.”
Ker had overheard some of the other Candidates talking about things like this when she was in the Hall. It had seemed important then. “Not everyone can Flash something like that, but yes, it can be done.” She pulled her focus from Tel’s face. “Was there someone?”
“No. At least, no one in particular.” Wynn still spoke quietly, and Ker guessed that she wasn’t telling the whole truth.
“Maybe one of your ‘aunties’?”
Wynn looked sideways at her. “You don’t miss much, do you?”
“Well, I figured no one could have as many aunts and uncles as you claimed, and so, I thought . . .” Ker let her voice trail off. What she thought sounded rude, now that she was about to say it out loud.
“You thought I didn’t have any real family, just people on the street I did things for.” A flash of white as Wynn smiled. “You’d be right.”
Suddenly Tel’s soft snoring broke off as he rolled to his side, facing away. The two girls fell silent, but he made no other move. Wynn wrinkled her nose.
“Talents almost always get used for criminal cases,” Ker said, lowering her voice still further. “You know, finding evidence. Questions of Law. Not so much for people’s feelings. That may change now, though.” She gestured with her head toward the world of Feelers outside the door of the room. “I’ve been working with the people they call Lifters, people like Ganni. He can move and manipulate anything he can see. Rocks, people—”
“Arrows in flight.”
“Well, yes. But there’s so much more. They brought me a baby who couldn’t keep his food down and we fixed him. I could Flash that he had a hole here, where he swallowed.” Ker tapped the base of her throat. “Linking auras, I could show Ganni and then he could move the baby’s throat so the hole closed. I think maybe, one day, we might be able to help Ennick understand more than maps.”
They’d be able to reverse dampening, she thought.
“Could you have done that before?”
“Before the griffin? Before I could see the auras and manipulate them? No. No, I couldn’t.”
“Could anyone else?”
Ker shook her head. “No one else has even mentioned the auras.”
“So are they right? Are you the one in the Prophecy?”
Ker took in a deep lungful of air and let it out slowly. “Not the one, no, I don’t think so. I’m already the Second Sign. I don’t think I can be more than that.” Ker motioned Wynn closer, waiting to speak until she could murmur in the other girl’s ear. “I think it might be Jerek.”
“Well, now.” Wynn shook her head, her lips in a twisted smile. “That’s either wonderful, or it’s a disaster.” Ker shrugged, her eyes drifting back to Tel Cursar.
“I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” Wynn said. “Larin’s seen it already, and she’s just not saying.” Wynn patted Ker on the arm. “In the meantime, I’m off to get some sleep. Watching this one here”—she pointed at Tel with her chin—“it’s a wonder I didn’t drop off myself.” The curtains rustled closed behind her.
“I thought she’d never leave.
” Tel rolled over again until he was facing her, propped up on one elbow.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Since you came in. I dreamed you were here, and you were.” His smile was gentle, though it had no humor in it. “I need to apologize.”
Ker’s throat clenched. “You mean for kissing me in front of all those people? I should think so.” She could tell her tone wasn’t as light as she meant it to be. “Are you all right?” How would he react to everything that had happened to him—the things that he’d thought, and done—
“I remember it,” he admitted. “I remember what happened. Things I said—things I felt. It’s like it happened a long time ago, or as though it’s only a story I know really well. Almost. I’ll never be free of it, though.” His smile was painful to see. “And I’ll never apologize for kissing you.”
Ker smiled before she could stop herself, hoped that hers looked better than his.
“You’re free of the jewel’s web. That much I know for sure.”
“How could it happen? How could he do that to me? Make me forget everything I knew and everything I felt—even what I felt about you?”
Ker thought about the empty jar of grease Tel had kept in his satchel. “I don’t think you did. Not completely. Judging by everything I Flashed, Svann was using some of what you really felt—”
When he jerked away, she sat down on the edge of his pallet and took his free hand in both of hers. “No, listen. It’s better if you know.” She waited until he was looking at her again. “You remember how you reacted when you first learned I was a Talent? That’s how the military thinks—that’s how I thought, once. It doesn’t take much manipulation to take that genuine feeling, a flame that exists, however small, and fan it into a blaze. So much of what they’re saying, the Halians, is a little bit true.” She thought about what she’d heard Jak, and others, say. “The Halls do take children away from their families. There are more women than men in positions of power and status, inside the military and out. The fact is he had to use the jewel on you, to make you behave the way you did. There are many who didn’t—don’t—need that much persuasion. Think of that.” She took a deep breath.
“People like Pella?”
“People like Pella. Willing to stand on the stronger side. Willing to stand with us, now that we’re safe away from Svann.”
“You can’t trust him!”
“You forget, I can Flash him.” She brushed his face with her fingertips. She knew what was really troubling him. “The same as I can Flash you. I know I can trust you. I can tell if someone’s been jeweled just by looking at their aura, and now I can fix it. What are you smiling about?”
“I’m remembering Svann telling Jak that ‘the word jewel is not a verb.’” He sobered. “Can you save Jak?”
“I hope so. I hope it isn’t already too late. There are Far-seers looking.” Ker took another deep breath.
“You’re exhausted, let’s worry about Jak tomorrow. Here.” Tel shifted over on the pallet. “Lie down. I’ll watch over you for a change. Let’s not worry about what comes next.”
What came next, according to the Feelers, was Jerek’s formal acceptance as their Luqs. Though, as Tel pointed out, the Clan of the Mines and Tunnels had strange ideas of formality. Shortly after breakfast—a meal spent, on Ker’s part, in avoiding Tel’s eyes and trying not to smile—Ennick came to fetch them, along with Wynn and Jerek.
“What about Weimerk?” Ker said. She pulled the edge of her tunic straight, wishing it was cleaner.
“Can’t get through the tunnels,” Ennick said. “Small council says the great hall. Up this tunnel, second left, across the mushroom space and then third right.”
<
Ker rubbed her forehead. Would she ever get used to this?
Ennick led them along the route he’d outlined, giving them little running descriptions of where each crossing tunnel went, and what could be found there.
“I’ll never remember all of this,” Wynn whispered.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to,” Ker said. “But it’s distracting Jerek, so let Ennick be.”
Once they arrived at the great hall, Ennick ushered them to one side of the dais like a herd dog bringing in his sheep, and stood protectively in front of them.
“Are you nervous?” Ker could have bitten her tongue. What a ridiculous thing to say, but the words were out before she could stop them.
Jerek nodded, his eyes on the Lifters who were hanging baskets of the green fluorescent moss throughout the huge room. “Not as much as I thought I’d be,” he added. “But I’m only nervous, not afraid.”
“No one would blame you if you were,” Ker said.
Jerek shook his head. “It’s not shameful to be afraid. When Nessa was teaching me the sword, she used to say it was often sensible. The trick is not to let it stop you from doing what needs to be done.”
Tel caught Ker’s gaze over the boy’s head and raised his eyebrows, grinning. “She sounds sensible herself,” he said. “I’d like to meet Nessa one day.”
Jerek glanced upward. “She might be in Gaena. I never got a chance to ask.”
“We can ask now,” Tel said. “You can send for her.” When Jerek frowned, Tel added, “You’re the prince. You’ll be Luqs. If you want someone to go, they’ll go.”
As they were talking, the room was filling up. In addition to the baskets of moss, Tel’s glow stone had been set in a basket on the dais, where it provided light without blinding anyone. Jerek looked at the people gathering and swallowed. Ker put a hand on his shoulder. He was just a boy raised in a vineyard, a country holding. Had he even seen this many people, all in one place, before?
They were joined on the dais by the small council. Norwil UnGifted, Ganni Lifter, Dersay Far-thinker, Midon Far-seer, Hitterol Mind-healer, holding the hand of Larin. The little Time-seer looked a bit lonely without Ara standing somewhere near. Ker wondered where the old woman was.
Ganni looked toward them and made a beckoning gesture with his hand.
“Shall I come with you?” she said to Jerek. The boy hesitated, his lip between his teeth. “No, thank you,” he said. “They should see me as myself.”
He was right, Ker thought. He was thinking like a leader.
“Attention, everyone.” Norwil clapped his hands. “You all know me, I speak here for the UnGifted. Is there anyone who doesn’t know why we’re here?”
He waited a moment, but—if anything—the hall grew quieter. He turned to Jerek. “If you would. Please take the Speaker’s seat.”
Ker looked up—and caught Dersay looking up also.
<
Ker leaped to her feet, gripping the plaque she still wore around her neck. Nate Primo was alive, well, and here. But before she could say anything to reassure the Feelers who were already on their feet, Dersay spoke up.
“It’s Cuarel, and the Inquisitor. They’re here. Everyone, they’re here. It’s the Bears. We won’t have to take the prince to them. They’ve come to us.”
• • •
<
This time Ker could hear Weimerk both in her head and with her ears. With a shiver, she realized that this was the same entrance that she and Tel and Wynn had blocked, almost unrecognizable now. It hadn’t taken much for Lifters to clear it. And it had taken less time to reach it than she remembered. Luca Pa’narion and Cuarel were waiting when they arrived. Ker wondered how long the Inquisitor had been wearing his black tunic. Cuarel nodded at her absently, looking beyond everyone until she saw Dersay, and ran to her.
“Well, Talent Nast, a job well done, it appears.” Luca’s grin was bigger than his face, and his aura sparkled. “Come out when you’re ready.” He inclined his head to Jerek, and returned outside.
“Are
you ready?” Ker said to Jerek. “That’s the Bear Wing out there.”
“This is why you brought me here.” Jerek flexed his hands.
“You’ll have to go out to meet them. They won’t come in. It’s safe, though. Weimerk’s out there.”
Jerek hesitated, glancing between Ker and Ennick.
“Shall I come with you this time? Or Tel? A soldier might be better, to meet soldiers.”
Jerek furrowed his brow, as if uncertain of her reaction. “I’d like it to be Ennick.”
Ker blinked. The boy was a genius to have thought of that. Every Feeler present today—every Bear for that matter—would remember the image of their prince walking out to greet his Battle Wing hand in hand with the giant boy, the damaged one. They would remember it their whole lives, and they would tell their children. Jerek was thinking like a Luqs. Ker swallowed, unable to decide whether she was proud of him, or sorry for him.
“Would you walk out with me, Ennick?” Jerek held out his hand to the big man.
“Sure, Jerek, I can go outside with you. But you know, you can’t get lost here.”
“I know, Ennick, but I’d feel better if you were with me.”
The big man took Jerek’s offered hand. Jerek nodded, touched Ker once on the arm, smiled at Wynn, and stepped outside. Ker and Tel let them advance a few paces into the cold winter sunlight, before following.
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