She walked beside me as she answered, “It isn’t important Mordecai. It is everything. An archmage listens and by listening he understands. Through understanding he becomes. The ‘ears’ that you use to listen are a byproduct of wizardry. The same sense that allows you to perceive magic allows you to listen to the world itself… to become the world itself. Does that make it clearer?”
“Yes, but this power sounds too dangerous to use.”
“That is because I have been telling you of the most dangerous uses. An archmage can listen to many less dangerous things, things more similar to his own, human nature. He can also listen in a more limited manner. Power can be gained without passing the threshold. You have caused the earth to shake several times already haven’t you? Yet you retained your humanity.” She stopped and reached down, into the earth beneath our feet and when she straightened up again she held a dense glassy stone in her hand. “Here take this,” she said, handing it to me.
“What is this for?” I asked in surprise.
“A lesson,” she replied. “Do exactly as I say and perhaps you will understand better. Crush the stone with your hand.” I gave her an odd look but decided to humor her. With a word I encased the stone in my hand with a shield of invisible force and then I began to contract it as I squeezed with my hand. She put her hand on my arm before I could accomplish her request. “Stop,” she told me.
“What?”
“Use your hand, not a shield.”
“My hand isn’t strong enough,” I said.
“Channel the energy into your muscles and bones,” she explained.
I gave her a stern look. I had seen the effects of physical power on the human body already, mostly by watching what it did to Penelope when she had been my Anath’Meridum. She had once stopped a mace in full swing with her bare hand. To be charitable she had done it to save my life, but it had resulted in a multitude of broken bones in her hand. “No,” I said, clenching my jaw.
Moira looked at me with an expression of surprise. “Why not?”
“I would destroy my hand doing that,” I said with a flat stare in her direction.
“Too bad, that lesson had two parts, the first being a crash course in healing yourself. Obviously you’ve spent a lot of time applying your powers in various situations. In my time a mage of your age was usually a lot less experienced in such matters.”
“I’ve been forced by circumstances,” I told her.
She smiled, “That isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Very well let’s move to the more practical application. Listen to the stone… and pay attention to it carefully.”
Despite what I had already undergone with the voices of the wind and the earth it hadn’t really occurred to me that something as small and innocuous as a rock might have its own voice. Some of the books I had found in my father’s library had discussed the matter of sentience and existence… concluding that the very nature of ‘existing’ included a certain amount of awareness. Inanimate objects were alive in a sense, which is why the earth had a voice, though its awareness was completely foreign to the human mind.
What I hadn’t really considered was the full ramifications of that fact… it meant that even small objects, such as this stone, had their own limited awareness… though it might be very minimal. I stared at the rock for several moments before asking, “Is that possible, to hear something so small?”
Her blue stone eyes reflected the light of the afternoon sun, giving her an eerie look for a moment. “Yes it is possible. You must be careful in how you do it though; listen and make the stone a part of yourself, like an extra hand or arm. Do not let yourself become the stone. You must make it a part of you, not the whole of you.”
I laughed at the thought. “Surely I couldn’t become something like this.”
There was no humor in her expression. “You could.”
“Is it difficult to return from a state like that?” I asked. Her seriousness was sobering.
“What do you think the chances are that the stone in your hand will suddenly decide to become a human being?” she replied.
“Oh.”
“Stop thinking about it and listen. Clear your mind and focus on the stone. Don’t be dismayed if it takes a while, just listen,” she repeated.
I did as I was told. Hopefully no one would tell Penny that, she might take it as a hopeful sign. The most difficult part was ‘clearing’ my mind. In the past when I had listened to the earth, or even the wind, it wasn’t very hard. Both of those things were large and in their own way very loud… finding the voice of one small stone, amidst the background noise of everything around me… that was a different matter entirely. I never did succeed in clearing my mind, not completely anyway, but I didn’t need to. Soon after I began to focus and clear my mind of its usual clutter I started to hear the voice of the stone in my hand. It wasn’t particularly well defined, but once I started paying attention it was fairly easy to find. “I can hear it,” I announced.
“Are you sure?” my strange companion asked.
“Yes, I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t,” I replied in annoyance.
“Listen carefully and include its voice within your own. Make it a part of your own self. Once you can identify with it I want you to change it,” she said.
“Change it in what way?”
“Any way you wish,” she clarified.
Typical, I thought. “Thanks for your guidance,” I said dryly, and then I got serious. Focusing I listened until the stone did indeed feel as if it were an extension of my own being. It was a curious sensation, but it felt completely natural. It was only afterward, when I had withdrawn myself that it seemed strange to me.
Once I had made the stone a part of myself I tried to think of something interesting to do with it. The most obvious thing would be to cause it to relax… which would result in it falling apart like sand. I think that is what my new ‘teacher’ expected. Given my contrary nature I decided to try and surprise her. Drawing on past experiences I thought of the first time I had experienced my gifts as a mage, the day I had saved Star from the river. On a whim I coaxed the stone into reshaping itself, molding it to resemble my memory of the beautiful horse. It was a shape far more delicate than you might expect to see in stone, especially at that scale.
I had done similar things frequently with metal, using my power to help shape the metal in my hands but this was different. It still required the use of my imagination, but there was no sensation of effort. I did not force the change myself, I asked… no I showed the stone my vision and it obliged me by taking that form for itself. When I had finished I looked up to see Moira’s reaction. “How is that?”
Her face was impassive, “Very good, better than most when they first attempt it.” Though she gave little outward sign I could sense a feeling of shock in her. She hadn’t expected what I had done. More importantly, she was trying to avoid letting me know I had surprised her.
“How good?” I asked pointedly.
“Too good,” she admitted. “You’re a danger to yourself.”
“I’ve heard that before,” I chuckled wryly. “I didn’t like it then and I still don’t.”
“This is no laughing matter. You need a meillte, several in fact, so they can rest. In my day someone like you would have at least three,” she declared.
“Why three? I don’t see the advantage of having more than one.”
“There isn’t for you. It gives them the opportunity to rest. Three would be enough that one could keep an eye on your mental state at all times, even while you slept,” she explained.
“That seems excessive, what would I do while sleeping?”
“Probably nothing, but possibly anything.”
“How many of these ‘miellte’ did you have?” I asked.