Emma clung to me as if she might watch me disappear if she let go. Not only didn’t I have the words to console her, but she also wouldn’t understand them. For now, she would have to understand from my actions because I was not going to contact her mind again.
Anna reacted oddly, talking to her sister in a sharp tone and shaking her finger in her face while scolding. I motioned for Anna to stop and let me take care of the situation. She did, but she still cast angry looks at Emma, sensing her sister had done something I disapproved of. I sat and held Emma, and as she calmed, a faint touch in my mind drew my attention, a foreign feeling previously unknown. I adjusted my position enough to see Emma’s face and the slight smile she wore as she snuggled with me.
Flier had listened to Anna chastise Emma. The difference was that he understood what she said, so now knew more than us. He would probably share it with us later, but for now, he understood enough of the situation to remain quiet. It occurred to me that he knew almost all of our secrets, the only person outside of our group of three to ever do so.
The warm feeling in my mind grew stronger. I pointed my finger at Emma and asked, “You?”
She nodded, just the slightest of moves.
“No,” I snapped and pulled away. Now what? I had no ideas. The concept of me touching her mind had seemed natural and my skill to use and help her and Anna, but it had never occurred to me that she would do the same to me—and I didn’t like it at all. My skin crawled in revulsion.
Worse, was the reason for my reaction. It felt like an invasion of my being, a violation of my privacy. I wanted to wrap my arms around myself and protect my mind from her—I was repelled by the idea. She looked ready to cry again. After reaching out to me as a friend, all I had done was order her to stop and pulled away.
I recovered my senses, somewhat. She was doing no more to me than I’d done to her when she attacked this afternoon. Her initial reaction had been fear—and she had instinctively fought back. There was no fault in that.
Kendra said, “What’s happening?”
“We’re learning,” I said briskly, not intending to offend, but not wishing to lose the mental touch still in the back of my mind. “Together.” I relaxed and reciprocated, with a mental probe of my own, gentle and cautious, half expecting to awake after another half day when Emma repeated what she’s done before.
Instead, she melded with my probe, combining the energy with hers and directing it gently. It was as if she was the teacher and I the student. I resisted, at first. She paused, allowed me to gather my thoughts and calm myself down, then she nudged me again.
My vision blurred, then my eyes were unseeing, although open. What entered my mind was not through my eyes, or hers. It was in her mind, a vast white openness of warmth, familiarity, companionship, and the limitless love of a child. We remained together on the rim of the whiteness. With her urging, I moved cautiously ahead.
Forms took shape. Trees, rivers, valleys, the ocean, and a ship came to mind. It was the Gallant, as seen from the little place we’d eaten before boarding at the Port of Mercia. The table we’d sat at took shape, the chairs, door, and even the woman who served our food. All came into crystal sharp clearness, and as each appeared, its name came to mind.
Emma relayed hundreds of mental images, everything from Alexis, my horse, to the empty bowls of food at the inn. One thing after another. Then, quick as the darting of a fruit fly, she pulled back, and I was left alone. She had shared nothing of her life before meeting us.
My eyes worked again. She still sat entwined with me, both arms wrapped around my upper arm, and her tiny face was upturned, her mouth smiling as if we knew things nobody else did. The fear and confusion were gone from my mind, and from her expression, Emma’s too.
She turned to the campfire and said in an unaccented voice, “Fire. Warm. Good.”
Kendra tensed as if ready to leap to her feet at the three consecutive Common words. She looked at me in alarm.
I said, “Remember that sailor telling us how a mage helped him learn our language? We’re doing sort of the same thing.”
Kendra’s quizzical expression told me she wanted more explanation, but that could wait. Flier sat beside her, but probably sensed the tension and remained quiet—but he was quick to learn and paid attention to every detail.
I continued, “Anna was easier to teach.”
“But Emma is harder? Why?” she asked.
That was not a question with a clear answer. I decided to be as truthful as possible and as direct. “Because she has far more mental powers than my poor attempts at magic.”
The words were intended to shock Kendra because any brother likes to poke and jab a sister when an opportunity arises. It’s just the natural order of families. However, she didn’t react or seem surprised, she acted as if she almost expected that answer.
Flier couldn’t contain himself. “She is a young sorceress?”
“I really don’t know, Flier. You are one of us now and deserve a full explanation, but neither Kendra or myself understand what’s happening. What I can say, is that both girls have some measure of magic abilities. Are they sorceresses? I don’t believe so, but maybe they will grow into that.”
“And you?” His question was direct, pointed right at me. We’d sort of skirted around the answer before, but he obviously wanted more.
“I am no mage. I can do parlor tricks, and you don’t want to play blocks with me for money if I want to win.”
“But you played on the ship.”
I threw a shrug and snorted. “And I played without using my advantages, all but a few times. Not all players played fair, so I cheated them. I won a few pots, lost others. It wasn’t coins I was seeking but facts and rumors.”
“I don’t like mages. None. In any form.” His tone was flat and seemed to include us in it. The judgment not only concerned me, it felt like a personal attack. If the situation was not settled, he might also endanger us when we reached Vin by spreading word of us.
I said, “It’s like a knife, Flier. One person uses it to kill and another to cut his carrots at dinner.”
“No matter how you spin the tale, magic is evil.”
Kendra and I passed a look. She was far more diplomatic and genial. The explanation was better in her hands where she could console him as she clarified my clumsy words. She said, “Evil? I’ll tell you what evil is. It’s being forced to be a cripple and live as a beggar when the slightest touch of Damon’s magic has you walking better than him. Is that evil? That you have healed and can walk again? That you have a life to look forward to, and two new friends?”
He clamped his jaw and didn’t answer.
She raised her index finger and placed it right under his nose like she’d done to me a thousand times when we were small. If he didn’t give the right response, she was going to flick the bottom of his nose. It didn’t physically hurt too much, but inside it did. She wouldn’t hesitate to do it again or flick his ear, either. Kendra had a streak in her that demanded attention.
She said, “You don’t like magic, you say. Well, what if I say I’m going to tell Damon to use his magic and replace that damned arrowhead right where he found it? Because we don’t wish to offend you with our magic.”
Yes, she was angry. He might not realize it, but I did and wanted to scoot away.
I was not alone, either. Both girls watched her warily. And on top of that, a sound rustled on the night air. It was the leathery sound of huge wings keeping a dragon aloft. Kendra’s dragon. She was now linked with the animal and when in danger, the beast raced to her rescue. I could hear the pumping of the wings that was so much faster than at other times. The dragon was coming fast. Did it sense her anger at Flier and mistake him for danger?