“Breathe slowly,” the Knight-Commander said. She breathed … in … out … in … out … there came a pressure, building along her bones, as if from within them, as a weather change made pressure in her head. It grew; she concentrated on breathing slowly, steadily, as it pushed and squeezed inside her, as the warmth from his hands and the sensation of light from Paks’s touch on her shoulders merged until finally with a sudden rush, a stream of cold fire raced through her body. She gasped at the intensity of it, and then it was gone, leaving behind a sense of great spaces burst open from within.
“Dear me,” the Knight-Commander said.
“She has it,” Paks said.
“She does indeed.” The Knight-Commander’s voice deepened. “What have I done? What have I loosed?”
Dorrin could scarcely hear him. In her mind, in her heart, the new spaces were both dark and sparkling with light, a clear winter’s night, cold and clean. What was this?
This is magery, came the answer, a voice she had never heard. Sonorous. Joyous. This is your heritage, Dorrin of Verrakai. Use it well. Music rose in her mind, music dimly recalled from earliest childhood. No human music, this, but the music she had imagined the gods might play.
She opened her eyes; the Knight-Commander, still holding her hands, was staring at her with an expression of wonder and horror mixed.
“What—?” she asked.
“Dorrin—you have it all.”
“All?”
“The magery, all of it. As great as any I read of, in the archives, and more than I have ever known to exist in these days. What my predecessor locked down, and well he did so. I do not know yet if I did well to loose it.”
“What did you hear?” Paks said from behind her.
“A voice,” Dorrin said. Suddenly tears burned her eyes and ran down her face. “I—I can’t believe it was—” But she did believe. “Falk,” she said. “It was Falk.”
“What did he say?” the Knight-Commander asked.
“He said This is your magery. Use it well. Only—I don’t know how.”
“You will,” Paks said.
The Knight-Commander nodded, and dropped her hands. “Dorrin, if Falk approved the restoration of your powers, then it must be the gods trust you to use them well. I doubt any of your family have near as much, though they may have more knowledge how to use what they have. I suspect you will learn quickly … there are hints I can give you. What do you most want to learn?”
Dorrin repeated what she had told Paks.
“A shield for yourself and those you lead should be the simplest; as a soldier, you know how shields function, and you’ve seen Paksenarrion in action.”
Dorrin tried to imagine such a shield; she felt a mental nudge, then another, and then felt a tingling in her head that ran down her body.
“I said you would learn quickly, but that—that is more than I expected,” the Knight-Commander said. “I’m going to push again …”
This time Dorrin felt nothing but a faint pressure, as if someone laid a cloth on her skin.
“That was not an attack, of course. But your personal shield has already strengthened.” He sat back. “I understand that you wish to leave soon, but my advice would be to spend another few days working with me and with Paksenarrion; it will be better for you and for those you lead if you have more understanding of your magery—both how to access it, and what temptations it presents.”
Dorrin glanced at Paks. “The prince bade me come as soon as possible.”
“You would not leave half-dressed, though that might be quicker,” the Knight-Commander said. “Magery—even such magery as yours—is not learned in an hour. You might ask Falk.” Implicit in that was his rank as Knight-Commander, second highest among Falkians.
Dorrin bowed. “Knight-Commander, I will do so, but I would not prolong the training beyond absolute need.”
“Understood,” he said. “With what I have seen this night, we are speaking of days, not hands of days.”
12
Kieri missed Dorrin at dinner; word that she was closeted with Paks reassured him. Selfer arrived after dinner, anxious to know if they were leaving the next day or not.
“Paks wanted to talk with her,” Kieri said. “I expect it was about the gods, or magery, or something like that.”
“Kefer was talking about her and that sword she has. My lord—Sir King—do you think she has magery of her own?”
“She might,” Kieri said. “From what the prince wrote me, the former Duke Verrakai and his brother did, but perhaps that was Liart’s spells. But she’s never shown it to me. I knew her long ago, you know, at Falk’s Hall.”
“It’s against the Code of Gird,” Selfer said. “If she uses it, and we are with her—”
“With the Verrakaien showing their ability, I believe the Crown will approve Dorrin using hers, if necessary.”
“I would like to know,” Selfer said.
Kieri nodded, then said, “Captain, I have known you since you were my squire—less long than I have known Dorrin. If the gods gifted you with the power to make light or heal, would you use it ill? I think not. And I think Dorrin, if she has such powers, will use hers well.”
“Excuse me,” said a voice from the door.
“Come in,” Kieri said. Paks, Dorrin, and the Knight-Commander of Falk were there. “Well,” Kieri said. “This looks serious.”
“It is,” Dorrin said. “And Selfer should hear it as well, for it bears on him as well as on me and you.”
“Go on,” Kieri said, waving at chairs.
Dorrin repeated what she had told Paks of her knowledge of magery. “Paks discovered I had more, but it had been blocked by a Knight-Commander.”
“At Falk’s Hall when she was there,” the Knight-Commander said.
“And now the Knight-Commander and Paks have released it.” Tears glittered in Dorrin’s eyes. “They think I should take instruction for some days before leaving, so that I will be better prepared to deal with my relatives and protect my people.” She glanced at Selfer, sitting bolt upright in his chair. “Selfer—I know you are Girdish and this may trouble you.”
His brow furrowed. “Indeed, Captain. I was taught—and it’s in the Code of Gird—that magery is evil in intent and practice.” He looked down and then back up. “But I have known you these several years; I have seen you in war and peace, both in command and under command. You have been honorable, just, as kind as war allows. Paladins—” He looked at Paks. “They also have magery of a kind, though it comes from the gods. Wizards cast spells and mix potions; we do not consider them evil. The Elder Folk have powers we do not, and are not evil. I am trying—I want to—think differently about this.”
Dorrin met his gaze. “Selfer, I do not want to press you to do wrong. You agreed to come with me not knowing about my magery—if it troubles you too much, then be free of that promise. It is my hope that I can protect you, and the others, from the evil intent of my relatives, nothing more.”
Kieri watched closely; he could feel nothing like a glamour or charm from Dorrin, and yet he could feel those from his elven relatives when they used them. Selfer’s acquiescence, when it came, seemed wholly free.
“Sir King,” the Knight-Commander said, “I know you have been daily in conference with Dorrin, but it is my belief that she and I and this paladin should retire from the palace to some quiet place where we can speed her mastery of her powers. I suggest the local Field of Falk, as she is Falkian.”
“Selfer, you can manage the cohort alone, can’t you?” Kieri asked.
“Yes, Sir King. Would it be helpful if I were to start the cohort on the way, and Captain Dorrin could catch up with us? One alone rides faster than the cohort can travel with supplies.”
“A good thought, Selfer,” Kieri said. “How many days, do you think?” he asked the Knight-Commander.