“The Lords have given me everything.”
“Indeed. We always keep our bargains.”
After I ate and slept for an hour, Notole summoned me to a workroom deep in the Lords’ palace. The chamber was dark, except for two intense green lights-her emerald eyes.
“Sit here,” she said, and a path of green light showed me a backless wooden stool just beside her. “So you’re ready to take the next step, young Lord?”
“I want to learn it all.”
“And there is so much to learn once you have power enough…” She told me all the things I would be able to do once I learned to acquire power beyond what existed in me: read thoughts and induce dreams, lay compulsions that could make a person do anything I wanted, manipulate objects without touching them, and even change the weather. “When you are sixteen or so, young Lord, you will come into your full talent. Sometimes I can see what it will be in a child your age, but you are much too dark and complex. It will be interesting to see what awaits you. But for the war to come, you will not yet be in your prime, so we must develop what skills you have. And first and foremost, you must learn about power.”
All Dar’Nethi were born with the power for sorcery. It was a part of us, Notole said, just like our ability to think or to speak or to read. And just like those things, it required only a little teaching to be able to use it. But to work any significant sorcery, one needed more power than what just happened to be inside you.
The Dar’Nethi increased their power using their experiences as they went about their lives, by observing and thinking and holding on to the images and feelings. “The fairy dance,” Notole called it. “They are so limited in their vision, they let the most magnificent of all gifts wither from boredom, tiptoeing through the universe like children at a glassmaker’s shop afraid to touch anything. But you, my young Prince, can dismiss their foolish limitations. Look beyond yourself, and you can have all the power you wish in an instant. Here, take this stone”-she set an ordinary piece of the red desert rock in my hand-“and look on it. Consider it. Focus your inner eye on this worthless piece of nothing, and seek out its true parts in your mind, the essence that makes it a stone rather than a tree or a frog.”
She guided me through the jewels in my ear, helping me to think of the stone and the gritty sand that made it… and before very long, I felt a small, pulsing heaviness-not in my hand-but in my mind where I held the image of the stone.
“Now take that weight… that morsel of life’s essence that exists in this worthless stone… and draw it into yourself… into that place we have visited before where your power lies, that you can shape to your will.”
I did as she said and felt much like I did after drinking cavet in the morning, a little bit stronger, a little bit more awake. And then I lifted my left hand, as she directed me, and thought about light… and a flame shot from the end of my fingers. It lasted only for a moment, but I had never made anything so bright. And it had never been so easy.
“There, you see, young Lord? This is only the beginning.”
“More. I want to do more, Notole.” The excitement of it had me ready to burst. All the things I could do…
She laughed. “And so we shall, but we are going to need a new stone.”
I looked in my hand, and indeed the red stone had crumbled to dust. “No one will care,” I said. “It was only a stone.”
“Exactly so.” She laughed again and gave me another stone.
Notole taught me many things in that dark room. Some were interesting and useful, and some were unpleasant, and some were vile and wicked. “… but necessary to know, for your enemies will stop at nothing to destroy you. You must be ready for them. Sometimes even your allies will be distasteful to you, and you must know how to control them. Your power is everything. Once you rule as you are meant to do, you can afford to pick and choose your ways of dealing with your enemies… and your friends.”
We spent days and days working on how to build power-from rocks, from broken pots and cups and paper and yarn, from objects of all kinds. Then she brought in plants and small trees and mice and kibbazi, and I learned that the power you could take from things that lived was much stronger than what you got from rocks and pots and wood. Nothing much was left of the things when we were through with them. It was a good way to make use of things that were worthless or ugly or broken.
Sometimes I was in Notole’s rooms for hours without even realizing it, for when I went back to my house, it was already night and I was ravenously hungry, or maybe the sun had come up when I thought it was only evening. Sometimes I missed my other lessons for days at a time, so that when I went back to my sword fighting, I was stiff and rusty. I was so busy with Notole and sorcery, I almost forgot about the odd things I had found.
However, on one afternoon when I came in from sword training, a smooth, flat square of wood lay in the center of my sitting room table. I sent my slaves to run a bath and set out fresh clothes for me, and while they were occupied, I picked up the thing. It was smaller than my hand, plain and somewhat crude, as if cut and shaped with a dull knife. A square of metal had been set into the back of it and polished to a high sheen, so that I could see myself in it as clearly as a looking glass. Its oddity made me remember the other things left in my rooms, and I rummaged around on the bench and found the stone and the wood and the fruit pit with the shining red kernel.
Were the Lords leaving me the things? Perhaps they were a puzzle, and when I figured out the answer to it, I would be ready for… something. I had no time to think about it just then, for I was going to Notole for the rest of the day, so I threw the things in a small box on the table by my bed. When I got back, I would take another look and try to decipher the riddle.
On my way to the Lords’ house that afternoon, I witnessed a fight in the courtyard between two Zhid. One of the warriors watching the fight told me the two had hated each other for hundreds of years and had decided it was time for one of them to die. When I got to Notole’s workroom, I asked her why the Zhid commanders didn’t stop it. In Leire two soldiers were never allowed to fight each other to the death, no matter how long-standing their grievance.
“So you saw them, eh? A useless quarrel. And how useful are warriors who are so caught up in private business?” She knew what was happening-she knew everything that went on-but she didn’t answer my question. “Let me show you something.”
From a purple velvet bag, she pulled a dull brass ring about as big as my hand. She had me hold out my hand with my palm open. Standing the ring on its end, she blew on it and set it spinning.
“Watch the oculus closely,” she said. As it spun faster, she took her hand away and it stood there on its own, beginning to shine bright gold. Faster and faster the ring spun, catching the light of the candles and her emerald eyes, creating an orb of gold and green light right in my hand. “Now probe the orb,” she said. “Pull the light of it apart with your inner eye-and seek out the disharmony. There… you see?”
Inside the orb of light I could see the two Zhid, covered with sweat and blood and hatred, grappling in the courtyard.
So much power there, said Notole, whispering in my ear through the jewels in my earring. Hatred is very powerful, as you know. It has made you more than you were, and can do so whenever you find it. Open your mind to it. Here, let me show you…