He moved his eyes to Dross. The spirit nodded eagerly.
“Just a little,” Lindon allowed.
He focused on the mug again, finding it slightly easier the second time. This time, he wanted to transform the mug into something else. Not anything too complicated, like a living thing, but something similar enough that it might actually work. Maybe a bowl.
He pictured the mug flattening out, widening, taking the new shape in his mind. His will tightened.
“Change,” Lindon ordered.
The mug rattled slightly.
Eithan, Dross, and Orthos all leaned closer and examined it.
“I see,” Eithan said. “You have changed it to a different mug that is identical in appearance. Clever.”
Lindon squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the sense of exhaustion to pass. “That one doesn’t work, Dross.”
[I’ll check it off the list. We can’t change its shape. Boom, there it goes. Gone from the list. Now how about color, can you change the color?]
Lindon started to focus again, but Eithan waved a hand in front of his eyes to stop him. “I’ve heard it said that all Sages can accomplish with their authority whatever they could accomplish without it.”
[Oh, that’s clever!] Dross said. [Very memorable saying, very snappy. Too bad it’s, you know, wrong.]
“I can’t re-open a portal with my madra,” Lindon pointed out.
“Ah, yes, let me clarify. There are things that any Sage can do, and then there are things that only you can do, with your Icon and your unique relationship to that Icon. I thought it might be prudent to start with the things that any Sage could do.”
Lindon watched the mug as though committing it to memory might help him somehow. “Pardon, but I couldn’t transport the mug directly from the shelf to the table without my authority.”
“I can,” Eithan said, rolling up his sleeves. “Let me show you.”
His smile dropped and his eyes sharpened. He held out his hands, focusing his will.
Then he grabbed the mug, lifted it, and placed it on the other end of the table. “Behold!” he cried. “I have transported the cup!”
Dross applauded furiously.
Lindon spoke his own thoughts aloud. “So I get the same end result, but skip the process.”
“That’s exactly right.” Eithan sounded somewhat surprised.
That was an intuitive connection, but it felt right. There was something missing, though. Charity had opened portals and brought techniques to life. Northstrider had brought back the dead. Those weren’t things he was capable of doing without authority.
One step at a time, he reminded himself.
There was a large jug of clean water by the door, where a Fallen Leaf Copper had left it for them. “With my hands, I could fill that cup,” Lindon said.
Eithan gestured for him to go ahead. Orthos craned his neck to get a better look.
Lindon concentrated. This seemed to take more of his willpower than before, encompassing both the mug and the jar of water. Finally, when he could clearly picture water filling the cup, he spoke.
“Fill.”
Water appeared in the mug.
Lindon’s vision faded.
He found himself lying on his back only seconds later, staring up at the wooden beams on the inside of the ceiling. Orthos radiated concern, and Dross curiosity.
Eithan was taking a sip of water.
“That obviously took more out of you,” Eithan observed. “Do you—ah, this is crisp. Very refreshing. Do you know why?”
Lindon struggled to stand up, and he felt like he was speaking through a mouthful of cotton. “It’s refreshing because it’s still cold.”
The water was most likely melted snow, and there were scripts around the jar that blocked heat.
“Ah, no, I meant ‘Do you know why you struggled more with that working?’”
“I had to split my focus.” He was working largely from instinct, but his will had encompassed both the mug and the water. That had made it more than twice as hard.
“Correct, but there are other factors at play as well.” Eithan took another sip of water and then placed the mug back down. “Try emptying the mug.”
Lindon shook his head. “Apologies, I’m too weak. I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“I highly doubt you will find this so exhausting.”
Eithan must have a point. He always did. And despite feeling like he had just completed a hundred complex mathematical equations while performing a delicate Soulsmithing operation, Lindon was still ecstatic about getting some kind of grasp on his Sage abilities.
He could try a little more.
He gathered his focus and spoke the order: “Empty.”
The water vanished from the mug.
Lindon braced himself to fall again, but he felt nothing. He had ordered the water as easily as he might order a pet. Concentrating to gather his willpower was still a bit tiring, but the actual command had taken almost nothing out of him.
He understood why immediately, and it was like a light dawning in his mind, revealing an entirely new world of possibility.
“It’s in line with my Icon.”
“And it’s something you were capable of doing on your own,” Eithan pointed out. “Emptying a vessel is well within the concept of the Void, and pouring water out of a cup is simple for anyone. Also, you in particular could have burned that water away with Blackflame. Therefore, very easy.”
Lindon peered into the jug. “Did the water return?”
“What do you think?”
“I suspect it did, because when I thought of emptying the cup, I thought of pouring it back into the jug. But that means all I really did was move water from one place to another. So why was that easier than moving the mug?”
Eithan waved a hand. “You’re thinking about it like it’s a sacred arts technique. You’re working on a conceptual level now. Don’t cling to literal definitions.”
“If it’s all a matter of perspective, then I can do anything,” Lindon continued, letting his thoughts guide his words. “I could move the mug by emptying the shelf of the mug. Could I heal someone by emptying them of injuries?”
That sounded ridiculous, but maybe that was how Sages worked.
“That sounds ridiculous,” Eithan said, and once again Lindon wondered if the man was reading his mind. “Some of those actions may be in line with your Icon, and some of them certainly are not, but you’ll have to feel that out for yourself.”
Lindon scooped up another glass of water, by hand this time, and concentrated, ready to try again. This time, he wanted to vanish the water entirely.
“Empty,” he said.
The mug stayed full. Something had stopped him.
Someone.
He had felt the will working against his, and he recognized it. Lindon looked up to Eithan, who was giving a broad, innocent smile. “How did you do that?”
“If your will is the only one working on an object, you have complete authority over it. If someone else wants to do something with that object, you must overcome their will first.” He took the mug from Lindon by hand and drank from it.
“As I am not yet a Sage, I can’t do what you can do. But I can stop you.”
Lindon had hundreds of questions, most of which could only be answered through practice.
“Dross, can you model this?”
[Can I? Of course I can! Accurately? No. I don’t really understand the limitations. We’ve seen enough Sages and Monarchs working, but I don’t know what Icons they have connections to, and you weren’t advanced enough to sense what wills might have been working against them at the time, and also being here in this valley tires me out, and I’d kind of like to start fresh in the morning. Maybe several mornings from now.]