They had vowed then to find a true psionics master, one who had studied the mental arts for years and who could teach them how to control their rogue talent. They had also vowed not to use it again until they knew what they were doing, but Jedra's mind burned with the desire to link with Kayan's again. Not the simple contact that allowed them to communicate, but the complete, mind-expanding intermingling of thoughts and abilities that would allow them to become one single being again, enormously powerful, enormously intelligent....
Enormously dangerous. He wrenched himself away from that line of thought. An obsession of such intensity was in itself fraught with risk. He could easily come to depend on their mental convergence, becoming like the dream addicts in the city's warrens who used magical spells or the essences of various plants to keep their minds on an alternate plane while their bodies slowly wasted away.
Everything is dangerous out here, Kayan mindsent, even though she and Jedra were walking side-by-side. Psionic speech was easier than talking with a dry mouth.
Things are dangerous everywhere, Jedra answered. Remember what it was like in Urik, with people ready to rob you the first time you lowered your guard? We just need to learn a new set of rules here, that's all.
I suppose so. I just feel so vulnerable out here. So exposed.
Jedra chuckled. Kayan was all but indistinguishable, draped from head to foot in the billowy yellow robe that Galar had given her. The elves had warned her not to expose so much as the tip of her nose to the sun, for with her fair skin it would blister and peel within hours. Jedra risked no more than she did, for he'd been a city dweller, too, and he knew that even his elven ancestry wouldn't protect him until he'd built up some resistance to the fierce and unforgiving sun.
You think it's funny? she asked.
A little, Jedra admitted. Not just our clothing, either. Here we are, the dread psionic warriors who took on a caravan master and a mage all by ourselves, two untamed talents whose biggest problem is that when we join our minds together we're too powerful to control, and yet we're nearly helpless in the desert.
That's not funny, that's pathetic, Kayan said. She trudged along dispiritedly for a few minutes, then added, All right, I can see the irony in it, but I still don't like feeling ignorant.
At times like this, Jedra was glad for the mindlink. He'd never had any kind of formal education; words like "pathetic" and "irony" would have gone right over his head in a regular conversation, but under the mindlink he received the meaning of the words as well as the words themselves. He took a minute to think about the new concepts and fix them in his mind.
Up ahead, a young elf boy was proudly playing with a wooden sword his father had given him. Jedra watched him approach a short, wide-trunked cactus and slice off its thorns with a series of smooth strokes along the surface, then stab the cactus near the top and run once around it to cut the cap free. Then the boy reached inside and drew out a handful of white pulp. He held it overhead in his fist with his thumb pointing downward, and when he squeezed, a stream of water ran down the thumb into his mouth.
There, Jedra said. You see? Yes, everything here is dangerous, but everything is-he used another word he'd learned from Kayan-everything is vulnerable, too. We just have to learn how to take advantage of the desert's weaknesses.
Before it takes advantage of ours, Kayan said dubiously.
The boy ran happily onward to catch up with his father. Evidently the remains of the cactus were open to anyone; one of the women in front of Jedra stopped beside it and reached in for her own handful of watery pulp, then walked on, sucking at it as she went. Jedra was thirsty, too; he followed her lead and reached into the cavity in the center of the cactus, scooped out a handful of the cool white, fibery pulp, and handed it to Kayan, then dug out another for himself. It smelled fresh and faintly spicy, and when he held it overhead and squeezed it a stream of sweet nectar ran down his thumb onto his tongue. It tasted wonderfuclass="underline" a sugary wetness that refreshed him instantly and seemed to pour energy into every muscle in his body.
We'll learn, Jedra sent. The elves will teach us how to survive in the desert, and then we can begin our search for a psionics master to teach us how to control our wild talent. "Mmm," Kayan said, but she said it aloud so Jedra had no idea how she meant it.
The elves traveled steadily through the morning hours, but when the sun drew high overhead and the heat began to grow oppressive, they stopped, repitched their tents, and ate another meal before sleeping through the hottest part of the day. Jedra was grateful for the rest; his legs were aching already from the strain of walking so many miles in loose sand, and before they stopped he had been feeling faint from lack of food.
"Hah, today you've had it easy," Galar told him as they sat on the sand under a canopy and devoured leftover inix and some kind of crumbly brown honeycake full of nuts and dried fruit. "Normally we begin before dawn, but we got a late start this morning because of die festivities last night."
Kayan washed down a mouthful of cake with a generous swig of water, then said, "Well, I'm glad we got a gradual introduction to things. I think this is about as far as I could go today."
Galar grinned. "I hope you don't mean that. We will move out again at dusk for another few hours of travel."
She had been about to take another bite of inix; she stopped with the meat halfway to her mouth and said, "You're kidding. What's the rush?"
"There is no rush," Galar said. "That is just the way elves travel. Two short marches during the most pleasant parts of the day. Be glad we aren't in a hurry, or we would move at a run, sometimes all through the night."
Jedra had a thought. "What about the chief?" he asked. "He's got a limp. He can't run, can he?"
Galar lost a little of his smile. "He can and must if he wishes to remain chief. We have no room in the tribe for people who can't keep up, no matter who they are."
"Wonderful," Kayan said. She finished the rest of her meal in silence and disappeared immediately into the community tent, evidently determined to get as much rest as possible before the tribe moved out again.
Jedra followed her a few minutes later, the meal after such heavy exertion making him drowsy, but as he stepped into the relative darkness of the huge tent he was momentarily blind, and he crashed right into someone coming out.
"Oh, sorry," he said, backing up and blinking to see who he'd collided with. To his horror, he saw Sahalik standing there, frowning down at him as if Jedra were something smelly and unpleasant he'd just stepped in.
"Sorry," Jedra said again. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
Sahalik didn't say a word. He just stepped out of the tent, brushing Jedra aside effortlessly and continuing on his way. The hair on the back of Jedra's neck tingled as he watched the elf walk away, his head held high.
When Sahalik had disappeared around the flank of the next tent, Jedra turned back inside, found his bedroll in the now-small pile, and stepped across the sleepers to spread it out beside Kayan.
Did he give you a hard time again? he sent, but her only answer was a soft snore.
The evening march was excruciating. Muscles overtaxed in the morning walk had had just enough time to stiffen up before being called upon to perform once again, and the meal they had eaten hardly seemed to sustain Jedra or Kayan for more than the first couple of miles. Their sandals weren't made for long hikes, either; the straps dug into their feet and the sand wore the skin raw.