Ji said something but John couldn’t hear her.
The structure of the stone filled his mind. He could taste the acidic nature of the granite. The flavor was sharp and almost as fragrant as a lime. Miles of it surrounded him. John followed the thick veins of granite down deeper into the earth. Tiny streams of water flowed between insoluble masses of minerals. Dark warmth enfolded John.
Again he distantly heard Ji. Perhaps she said his name. John didn’t think too much of it. Ji seemed far away. Long crystals of white feldspar piled over each other like the bones of long-buried creatures.
Suddenly John felt a sharp pain in his forearm. He opened his eyes. Ji gripped his arm in her mouth, bearing down but not breaking the skin. John drew in a breath. Ji released him.
The granite stone in John’s hand stretched up nearly to the ceiling. Long black crystals jutted from the thin spear of silica like thorns. Other black quartz crystals rose in long needles from the workbench where John’s elbow rested. Tiny outcroppings of feldspar studded the floor around John’s feet.
"What happened?" John asked.
"It’s been nearly an hour," Ji said.
"It only felt like a few seconds."
"You didn’t seem to hear me when I spoke to you," Ji said. "And the stone kept growing around you. So I thought it would be best to wake you."
John was slightly unnerved by the profusion of stones. They had gathered around him almost like living things. Carefully, he lowered the long spire of white stone and black crystals to the workbench. It was needle thin at the tip and stretched nearly five feet.
Ji placed her paw on it. "The stone feels different. It’s more whole. Stronger. It would be difficult to force my will into it now."
"Is that good?" John asked.
"It’s better than having it crumble to pieces," Ji replied. She showed her teeth and John thought that the expression might have been meant as a smile.
"What should I do now?" John asked.
"Now? Go get yourself something to eat. They won’t be serving lunch much longer."
"What about all this?" John gestured at the profusion of crystals jutting up from the workbench and floor.
"I’ll have a mason come and chip them down." Ji shrugged. "Don’t look so concerned, Jahn. This was good. You didn’t shatter the stone. You gave it greater strength."
"I didn’t mean to."
"No, but once you have control of your power you will be able to make the changes you desire. Be patient. These things take time."
Ji was right. He hadn’t torn the granite to shreds. He had managed to manipulate it. That was an improvement. John stood and brushed the pulverized rock from earlier failures off his shirt and pants.
"Thank you for helping me, Ji," John said.
"I would be an idiot not to," Ji replied and then she added, "You’re welcome."
John went to the door. He took his coat off the hook but didn’t put it on. The halls of the Warren were almost balmy.
"Jahn," Ji called after him.
"Yes?"
"Remember what I said earlier. When you see him, tell him."
"I will."
He made his way quickly to the large dining hall. Ji had been right about the time. Most of the Fai’daum had eaten already. All but one of the long tables and benches were empty. A few women sat at one table. They sprawled on the benches and leaned across the table, talking closely to each other. Their hand signs flashed close to their faces. Most of their dress hems were still belted up. Sheens of sweat shone across their skin and hair. John realized that they were the kitchen women dining together after having fed everyone else.
He didn’t intrude on their private conversations. Instead he went to the steam pots and served himself from the food that remained. In the deprivation of the winter, dumplings stuffed with bitter greens held a strange appeal. He filled a large plate with thick cuts of pungent goat meat as well.
He sat alone and ate. He wished he could somehow summon Ravishan to him, but he was nowhere near. John guessed he would see Ravishan tonight in the bath. It was the one place they could meet in privacy. The last two days John had noticed new, deeper cuts across Ravishan’s arms and chest. The skin surrounding the wounds was red and inflamed. Last night Ravishan had looked pale, even a little sick. He insisted that he could remain in the Gray Space for days, but John knew it was wearing him down. They needed to get him out of the Gray Space as soon as possible.
After lunch, John changed into the thin red pants he’d been issued and reported to the combat practice hall. Men and boys dressed in the same red pants trailed steadily into the big chamber. John only knew a few of them. But he understood that most of them knew of him. He had seen them gesture at him during dinners, when he sat with Ji and her other students. He hadn’t understood many of their hand signs, but their expressions of disdain were clear enough.
Tanash had offered to translate what little she could.
"They’re calling you a boy fuck – " Tanash had scowled at two big bearded men. "I can’t believe what primitive asses these northern men are. They’re just jealous that you get to spend so much time alone with so many beautiful women."
John would have liked to think that envy was the reason for the men’s animosity. But he suspected that it was something far worse. He guessed that Giryyn had told someone that he slept with men. That, combined with his performance at combat practice, had made him instantly unpopular.
John knew he should have just allowed Lyyn, the man he had been partnered against, to beat him. His first year in Rathal’pesha had taught him as much. But after Dayyid, John couldn’t stand the idea of taking a beating just to mollify a musclebound bully’s pride.
And the way the stocky, bearded man had sneered at him had infuriated John. He’d seen the same expression of disgust on his father’s face when he ranted against queers. John didn’t need to understand hand signs to know what this man thought of him.
John had thrown the man and pinned him. John had refused to lose even once. He had hurled Lyyn down into the padded mats again and again. At last the man had been panting and nearly too tired to stand. The instructor, Arren, had praised John but with a tense expression.
After that first combat practice, Lyyn and his friends had often made crude signs at John. Sometimes one of them would attempt to trip him while he was practicing against other opponents. The fact that John never fell only seemed to annoy them further.
John watched Lyyn and his friends swagger into the practice hall. They were followed by a pack of teenage boys. Then Arren arrived. He was a thickly built man with skin so deeply tanned that it looked almost like black leather. His bald head gleamed. He waved a swift command and immediately all of the men spread out in formation.
They lined up into four columns of ten with wide gaps between them. Warmup stretches lasted about fifteen minutes. After that Arren demonstrated a new handgrip and throw; then he paired the men off for individual practice.
To John’s surprise, Arren brought a young boy down the line of men to John. The boy couldn’t have been more than twelve.
"This is Eriki’yu," Arren whispered to John. "You will be training with him today."
John nodded, though he couldn’t imagine how he would practice against this skinny little boy without breaking him in half. Eriki’yu stared at John in horror.
Arren continued assigning practice partners. For a moment John just watched him, hoping that somehow he would turn around and realize the absurdity of what he’d just done.
At last John looked back to Eriki’yu. The boy’s arms and chest were mottled with bruises. Some were fresh and nearly black. Others had faded to a sickly yellow. His light brown hair hung in greasy strings around his face.