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Thus far, she had barely spoken of it. By the time she came awake, Bremen had gone. It was left to
Kinson to advise her that she was not to use her magic again until Bremen had returned and counseled
her. She accepted the edict with little more than a nod.
She said nothing of what had happened in the Keep. She seemed to have forgotten the matter entirely.
He finished his meal and looked up again. She was watching him.
What are you thinking? she asked.
He shrugged. I was wondering about the man we are sent to find. I was wondering why Bremen
considers him so important.
She nodded slowly. Cogline.
Do you know the name?
She did not respond. She seemed not to have heard.
Perhaps one of your friends at Storlock will be able to help us.
Her eyes went flat. I have no friends at Storlock.
For a moment he simply stared at her, uncomprehending. But I thought you told Bremen ...
I lied. She took a breath and her gaze fell away from his. I lied to him, and I lied to everyone at
Paranor before him. It was the only way I could gain acceptance. I was desperate to study with the
Druids, and I knew they would not let me if I did not give them a reason. So I told them I had studied
with the Stors. I gave them written documents to support the claim, all false. I deliberately misled them.
Her gaze lifted. But I would like to stop lying now and tell the truth.
The darkness was complete about them, the last of the daylight faded, and they sat cloaked within it,
barely able to make each other out. Because they would cross the Rabb that night, Kinson had not
bothered with a fire. Now he wished he had so that he could better see her face.
I think, he said slowly, that this might be a good time for the truth. But how am I to know if what
you tell me is the truth or simply another lie?
She smiled faintly, sadly. You will know.
He held her gaze. The lies were because of your magic, weren t they? he guessed.
You are perceptive, Kinson Ravenlock, she told him. I like you for that. Yes, the lies were made
necessary because of my magic. I am desperate to find a way to... She hesitated, searching for the right
word. To live with myself. I have struggled with my power for too long, and I am growing weary and
despairing. I have thought at times that I would end my life because of what it has done to me.
She paused, looking off into the dark. I have had the magic since birth. Innate magic, as I told
Bremen. That much was the truth. I never knew my father. My mother died giving birth to me. I was
raised by people I did not know. If I had relatives, they never revealed themselves. The people who
raised me did so for reasons that I have never understood. They were hard, taciturn people, and they
told me little. I think there was a sense of obligation, but they never explained it s source. I was gone
from them by the time I was twelve, apprenticed to a potter, sent to his shop to fetch and haul materials,
to clean up, to observe if I wished, but mostly to do what I was told. I had the magic, of course, but like
myself it had not yet matured and was still just a vague presence that manifested itself only in small ways.
As I grew to womanhood, the magic blossomed within me. One day the potter tried to beat me, and
I defended myself out of instinct, calling on the magic for protection. I nearly killed him. I left then, and
went out into the border country to find a new place to live. For a time, I lived in Varfleet. Her smile
returned. Perhaps we even crossed paths once upon a time. Or were you already gone? Gone, I
suppose. She shrugged. I was attacked again a year later. There were several men this time, and they
had more in mind than a beating. I called up the magic again. I could not control it. I killed two of them. I
left Varfleet and went east.
Her smile turned mocking and bitter. You see a pattern to all this, I imagine. I began to believe I
could live with no one because I could not trust myself. I drifted from community to community, from
farm to farm, earning my way however I could. It was a useful time. I discovered new things about my
magic. It was not merely destructive; it was also restorative. I was empathic, I found. I could apply the
magic and bring healing to those who were injured. I discovered this by accident when a man I knew and
liked was injured and in danger of dying from a fall. It was a revelation that gave me hope. The magic
used in this way was controllable. I could not understand why, but it seemed governable when called
upon to heal and not to destroy. Perhaps anger is inherently less manageable than sympathy. I don t
know.
In any case, I went to live with the Stors, to ask to be allowed to study with them, to learn to use my
skills. But they did not know me and would not accept me into their order. They are Gnomes, and no
member of another race has ever been allowed to study with them. They refused to make an exception
for me. I tried for months to persuade them otherwise, staying in their village, watching them at their [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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Thus far, she had barely spoken of it. By the time she came awake, Bremen had gone. It was left to
Kinson to advise her that she was not to use her magic again until Bremen had returned and counseled
her. She accepted the edict with little more than a nod.
She said nothing of what had happened in the Keep. She seemed to have forgotten the matter entirely.
He finished his meal and looked up again. She was watching him.
What are you thinking? she asked.
He shrugged. I was wondering about the man we are sent to find. I was wondering why Bremen
considers him so important.
She nodded slowly. Cogline.
Do you know the name?
She did not respond. She seemed not to have heard.
Perhaps one of your friends at Storlock will be able to help us.
Her eyes went flat. I have no friends at Storlock.
For a moment he simply stared at her, uncomprehending. But I thought you told Bremen ...
I lied. She took a breath and her gaze fell away from his. I lied to him, and I lied to everyone at
Paranor before him. It was the only way I could gain acceptance. I was desperate to study with the
Druids, and I knew they would not let me if I did not give them a reason. So I told them I had studied
with the Stors. I gave them written documents to support the claim, all false. I deliberately misled them.
Her gaze lifted. But I would like to stop lying now and tell the truth.
The darkness was complete about them, the last of the daylight faded, and they sat cloaked within it,
barely able to make each other out. Because they would cross the Rabb that night, Kinson had not
bothered with a fire. Now he wished he had so that he could better see her face.
I think, he said slowly, that this might be a good time for the truth. But how am I to know if what
you tell me is the truth or simply another lie?
She smiled faintly, sadly. You will know.
He held her gaze. The lies were because of your magic, weren t they? he guessed.
You are perceptive, Kinson Ravenlock, she told him. I like you for that. Yes, the lies were made
necessary because of my magic. I am desperate to find a way to... She hesitated, searching for the right
word. To live with myself. I have struggled with my power for too long, and I am growing weary and
despairing. I have thought at times that I would end my life because of what it has done to me.
She paused, looking off into the dark. I have had the magic since birth. Innate magic, as I told
Bremen. That much was the truth. I never knew my father. My mother died giving birth to me. I was
raised by people I did not know. If I had relatives, they never revealed themselves. The people who
raised me did so for reasons that I have never understood. They were hard, taciturn people, and they
told me little. I think there was a sense of obligation, but they never explained it s source. I was gone
from them by the time I was twelve, apprenticed to a potter, sent to his shop to fetch and haul materials,
to clean up, to observe if I wished, but mostly to do what I was told. I had the magic, of course, but like
myself it had not yet matured and was still just a vague presence that manifested itself only in small ways.
As I grew to womanhood, the magic blossomed within me. One day the potter tried to beat me, and
I defended myself out of instinct, calling on the magic for protection. I nearly killed him. I left then, and
went out into the border country to find a new place to live. For a time, I lived in Varfleet. Her smile
returned. Perhaps we even crossed paths once upon a time. Or were you already gone? Gone, I
suppose. She shrugged. I was attacked again a year later. There were several men this time, and they
had more in mind than a beating. I called up the magic again. I could not control it. I killed two of them. I
left Varfleet and went east.
Her smile turned mocking and bitter. You see a pattern to all this, I imagine. I began to believe I
could live with no one because I could not trust myself. I drifted from community to community, from
farm to farm, earning my way however I could. It was a useful time. I discovered new things about my
magic. It was not merely destructive; it was also restorative. I was empathic, I found. I could apply the
magic and bring healing to those who were injured. I discovered this by accident when a man I knew and
liked was injured and in danger of dying from a fall. It was a revelation that gave me hope. The magic
used in this way was controllable. I could not understand why, but it seemed governable when called
upon to heal and not to destroy. Perhaps anger is inherently less manageable than sympathy. I don t
know.
In any case, I went to live with the Stors, to ask to be allowed to study with them, to learn to use my
skills. But they did not know me and would not accept me into their order. They are Gnomes, and no
member of another race has ever been allowed to study with them. They refused to make an exception
for me. I tried for months to persuade them otherwise, staying in their village, watching them at their [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]