Arvin fumbled at the buttons of his shirt then peeled it over his head. He unfastened the belt that held his sheathed dagger and set the weapon to the side then sat and pulled off his boots and his glove. Finally he unfastened the laces of his trousers, let them fall in a heap at his feet, and stepped out of them. He stood with hands cupped in front of himself, hiding his nakedness. Zelia seemed oblivious to it, however. Her eyes never strayed from his.
“Lie down,” she instructed, “on your stomach.”
Arvin did, gratefully. The stone of the rooftop was warm against his bare skin.
“Place your hands, palms down, under your shoulders,” Zelia continued.
Arvin did. Zelia walked behind him and nudged one of his ankles, adjusting his legs. Arvin’s ankle tingled where her bare foot had touched it. “Feet together, and point your toes,” Zelia said. “Now arch your back-slowly-and tilt your head back until you are looking straight up at the sky.”
Arvin did as he was instructed, arching until his stomach and throat were taut. He stared up at the rapidly darkening sky, wondering how long he’d have to maintain this position.
“Continue to hold the pose,” Zelia said.
Arvin did. Above him, the first glimmers of starlight became visible as Sunset slid into Evening. Slowly the sky darkened, changing from purple to a velvety black. Arvin held the pose, expecting further instruction, but Zelia merely strode around him, adjusting his pose with a nudge here, a pressing down of her palm there. Each time she touched him he felt a flush go through his body, making it difficult to concentrate on the pose. His mind wandered to the stories he’d heard about the delights and terrors of sleeping with yuan-ti women. About their sensual, twining embraces, their reputed ability to coax a man on past his limits-and their rumored tendency to, in the heat of passion, inflict a fatal bite. Legend had it that, in the convulsions of death, the man experienced a release unlike anything he’d ever-
“Concentrate on the pose,” Zelia hissed. “Keep your mind in the present.”
Obediently, Arvin tore his mind away from fantasy.
Zelia stood, arms folded, staring down at him in silence.
As the evening continued to lengthen, Arvin began to wonder if Zelia was toying with him. Was she ever going to tell him what to do next, or just leave him frozen in this pose until he collapsed? The muscles in Arvin’s lower back were starting to bunch with strain and his stiffly extended arms had begun to tremble. The human body wasn’t built to hold a pose like this for so long. But at least it took his mind off the throbbing in his head that had been pestering him most of the day. Compared to this new pain, the headache was inconsequential.
“Hold the asana,” Zelia droned. “Feel the energy in your lower back-in your muladhara. That’s where the energy lies, coiled tight like a serpent.”
Arvin concentrated on his lower back but could feel only the tension in his muscles, which were starting to burn. It wasn’t working. Already it must be halfway between Sunset and Middark-surely this had gone on long enough. He let his arms bend, just a little, to ease the strain.
“Maintain the pose!” Zelia snapped, her voice like a whip.
Arvin straightened his arms at once. He could do this, he told himself. It was just like climbing a wall-a very high wall. You climbed so far, until your muscles were burning and you thought you couldn’t support yourself a moment longer; then you looked down and realized how far you’d fall if you let go. And you kept going.
He refused to give up. He could do this. He had to. He was physically stronger than Zelia and determined to succeed. He wasn’t about to fail at something she’d made look so easy.
More time passed. His arms began to tremble. His muscles had gone beyond burning, to the point where they felt like water.
“Move through the pain-send your mind to a place beyond it,” Zelia instructed. “Send it deep, to the base of your spine. Search there for your muladhara. Find it.”
Gritting his teeth, Arvin did as he was told. Rallying his flagging will, he blotted out the agony of his muscles and turned his mind inward. He sent his awareness sliding down his spine, to a place in the small of his back and concentrated on it, refusing to acknowledge anything else. He pushed himself through the pain… and suddenly was beyond it.
There. Was that it? He felt, in the small of his back, a hot, tight sensation that reminded him of the prickling he felt in his scalp when he manifested his charm. It was coiled around the base of his spine, a focused energy waiting to be unleashed.
“You’ve found your muladhara?” Zelia asked. “Good. Now let the energy uncoil.”
Arvin continued to stare up at the sky, which blurred as his vision became unfocused. Then suddenly, the knot of energy that was coiled at the base of his spine sprang open. A wave of energy surged through his body like a flash of wildfire. It was a feeling that came close to sexual release-except that the energy stayed within his body, tingling deep within every pore and hair.
Arvin laughed out loud, delighted. “I’ve done it!”
Zelia let out a slow, surprised hiss as Arvin sat up. “With a single asana,” she said softly. “Incredible.”
“Teach me more,” Arvin said, flush with the energy that was coursing through his body.
“Very well,” Zelia said, sounding edgy. It was as if Arvin’s success had irritated her somehow. “Let’s see if you can learn one of the simpler powers-the Far Hand. Hold the position and send the energy you’ve summoned to a point on your forehead, between your eyes.”
Arvin did as instructed, mentally guiding the energy up his spine. It seemed to find a resting point all on its own, coiling just inside his forehead, between his eyes.
Zelia stepped in front of him, holding something: his magical glove. Seeing it in her hand, he nearly lost his concentration.
“Maintain your focus!” Zelia snapped. “Keep the energy tightly coiled, until it’s time to use it.”
Realizing that she had chosen a valuable possession deliberately, to test him, Arvin gritted his teeth and found his focus again.
“Good. Now reach out with the energy; direct its energy with your gaze. Take the glove from my hand.”
Arvin tried but could not. “I… don’t think I can,” he gasped.
Zelia’s lips curved into a tight smile.
Prodded by anger-she didn’t want him to succeed-Arvin tried harder and felt the energy in his forehead loosen… just a little.
Zelia backed away from him, retreating until she was up against the vine-covered rail that surrounded the rooftop. She continued to hold the glove in front of her. “Give up?” she smirked.
Arvin shook his head and continued to concentrate. Once again, the energy loosened-but not enough. The glove in Zelia’s hands twitched then lay still.
Zelia’s eyes widened. “Try again,” she said, serious once more. “Send the energy out all at once… now!” As she spoke, she tossed the glove over the edge of the rooftop.
“No,” Arvin gasped.
The energy that had been spiraling between his eyes suddenly rushed out through them. He saw a bright streak of silver flash out toward the glove. His vision filled with sparkling light. When it cleared, the line of light was gone. The glove, however, was hovering above the rail. Tentatively, with slow jerks, he drew the invisible energy back toward him, reeling it back into his mind. The glove was tugged along with it and moved through the air toward him with short, choppy movements then fell onto the ground in front of him.
“You can relax now.”
Arvin sagged onto the ground and let the tension flow from his muscles. Sitting up, he tilted his head to stretch his neck. “I did it,” he said. “I learned a new power.”
“Yes.” Zelia stared at him with a thoughtful expression, as if his success had surprised her. “That’s enough for one night,” she said curtly. “It’s almost Middark. I must see if the cultists have returned to the chamber.”