by Hannah King
I didn’t dare do anything but get to work.
Abandoning something I loved... I thought over my task, searching for the proper feeling. Instantly I knew of a time, a memory. There were so many I could choose from, but this one would work just as well as any other, and it was fresh. I would merely have to be careful not to allow my grief to slip in behind it.
A thought struck me. What could be accomplished with this gift? I could think of so many different feelings. Could they all be used to produce control over life forms? But to what end? Tate still hadn’t given me much insight on what I would truly be using my talent for. Important details weren’t his forte, instead, he preferred useless details, like cleaning bloodstains off the floor or eating his lunch.
I stroked the fox again and asked her to listen.
Ceptador, then I stopped. “What is the next line? The one after…”
Tate sighed exasperatedly.
“You should be memorizing those. Repeating them to yourself in your sleep. Gorath, zitar,” he said each word loudly with exaggerated pronunciation and my mind made a mental note not to forget them again. “Alymath. Do you know the rest?”
“Yes.” That had been the line I was missing, but now I was unsure. “What’s the first word of the next-”
“Huelatath, ARALT, YOR, WOL, UEILI,” he groaned. “And if you’ve forgotten the last two phrases, I’ll throw you out of here!”
I pressed my lips together, suppressing my irritation and trying to focus, running the words in my head over and over again, desperate to solidify them.
A scraping sound caused me to look up again. Inwardly I sighed. Tate was whittling. Shaping a tiny figurine in his hand, his feet kicked up on a stool. Is he trying to distract me? Wood shavings fell from his carving onto the floor. No problem, it would be scrubbed the next day, I figured. For an idle moment I wondered if he was a reig user. No… He had too much energy. But he was certainly crazy enough.
I brought my attention back. I told the fox to listen again. She wasn’t eager to do so. Her anxiety was so strong, that I realized I had to focus even harder to speak the words to her. She fought me, and a glimmer of pressure made me blink hard. I refocused, clearly thinking the word, trying not to allow anything else to creep into my mind as I spoke to her.
At last I felt the pressure in my head lessen. She was listening. I moved on to the next step, this time ready for resistance. This was a living thing, and it had an active mind. The plant had been a piece of cake compared to her.
I promised her protection, that I would keep her safe if she followed me. Again the sound of Tate’s carving suddenly interrupted my thoughts. The left side of my brain felt like it was being clenched in a fist. I strove to hold on to the words, but suddenly, I could feel the pups. I knew where they were. They were above me, being held somewhere else, I knew I could find them. But I didn’t need to know that now. I needed to finish this.
“Challenging?” he asked me from the corner, breaking my train of thought for good. I took a deep breath and halted the process, the odd tension in my mind relaxing, but my frustration was mounting.
“Try it with one of your gloves. Just one, mind you. And don’t let your mind wander. Block out everything except the words at first.”
He makes that sound so easy, I thought angrily, but I was relieved to be allowed a training tool. I slipped the glove on and breathed deeply. Everything was a little quieter in my mind. I tried again and managed to get past the first two phrases. I moved on to the acceptance phrase, trying not to be afraid of how she’d react.
The pressure in my head was growing again, she was whimpering at me. Am I hurting her? I pushed the thought aside. I would release her soon enough. He’d assured me of that. How long had I been feeding her the acceptance phrase? I wasn’t sure, but at last I felt her release her will to me. My mind was relieved. I swallowed, mouth dry.
She was ready, listening, accepting. I began to drown myself in my memory. It had to be strong, for she had her own feelings. This had to be clear to her, it had to override what she felt right then. All I had to do was remember what it had felt like to walk toward Leida instead of back toward my family.
We had marched away from our loved ones to stay with strangers. I remembered the strength that had overwhelmed the ache in my soul. The knowledge that I had no choice. We had to carry on without them, they had to carry on without us. My heart quickened as I started to feel her grasping the concept, but I strove to keep the feeling strong in my mind until I was sure. Then, a murmur of satisfaction fluttered in my mind. Carefully, I pulled my hands away.
I stared into her big, yellow eyes. I couldn’t see results, but for some odd reason I was almost sure they were there, ready to be tested. Tate looked up, almost appearing surprised, causing a spark of pride to go off in my head.
“You’ve finished?”
“I think so,” I responded, this time allowing a bit of confidence to creep into my voice.
“Let’s see then,” he said, clearly impressed. He rose from his chair and went over to the bell. He rang it four times instead of the usual one and then began to pace excitedly. It was a little strange to see him excited, especially over something that I’d done. I hoped to Lavalt that I had at least done something.
In less than a minute, the door opened and a servant brought in another cage, carrying the young, yelping kits. He set the cage on the floor and left.
Tate pointed to the fox’s composure. “She already seems resigned to the fact that she is missing something. Did you notice how she didn’t scowl at me when you were finished?” he asked. “Foxes are generally only aggressive in protection of their young. Now, let’s see how far reaching your work was,” he said.
He sprung open the cage and the pups tumbled out, running expectantly to their mother, barking excitedly. But as they bounded toward what they thought was a reunion, the vixen backed away from them. One of them tumbled ahead and bit her leg playfully, but she drew back and turned around mournfully. They were relentless, until she bounded onto the table, out of their reach, sitting down and licking her paws as if she couldn’t hear them yapping at her from below. The cries that they let out at her indifference were heartbreaking, but she ignored them all.
Tate was giddy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TALITHA
“CAN I RELEASE her now?” I asked after Tate had enjoyed the depressing scene for a good full minute. I was growing weary of watching the disheartened kits, but it seemed to provide endless amusement for him.
“Hmm? Oh yes, go ahead, release them.”
Relieved, I placed my hand gently on her sleek, rust colored coat and sent her the word Rauphador. Nothing happened.
“Do you know how to release her?” Tate interrupted from across the room.
“I, yes…”
“I may have neglected to inform you that the release word, Rauphador, is one of the only words in the language of Nurandism that must be spoken out loud to take effect. It does nothing in your mind. You will soon learn why this is a helpful quirk, but for now, try speaking the word Rauphador to free her.”
I found this to be a little contradictory to the rest of the ruleset, but I didn’t waste time with questions.
“Rauphador,” I whispered to her. Something sprung open in my mind at the word and I suddenly felt a freedom I hadn’t realized I’d lost.
The fox jumped down from the table, away from my hand, receiving her joyful offspring and inspecting each pup with gentle nudges. I grinned at the reunion, happy that I had caused the family no lasting harm.
Tate was looking down at his time piece. “Hmm... you’ve finished early. Maybe you’ll manage to be on time for dinner after all. Ah, no, you’re not done yet I’m afraid,” he quickly doused my rising spirits. “The rest of your afternoon I’d like you to spend practicing with these creatures. You will bind her again, then release her, then start all over again until it seems easy to you. I would, however, like you to leave her bound at the
end of the day. Don’t worry, I’ll let you release her again tomorrow morning. I’d simply like to access how much volume the binding takes up in your head.”
He took an hourglass from the shelf and flipped it over.
“Once the sand runs out, you may go and have your dinner. But please, make sure the animals are in their cages before you leave.” He strode over to the door and left me.
I was relieved to see him go. It was nice to have a little quiet time, without his whittling and his untimely interruptions. I turned to the foxes and began to approach the mother with confidence, but soon found that we were right back to where we’d started, worse now that the family members were present. Standing in front of her pups she bared her teeth and snarled at me viciously.
What followed would have frustrated any onlooker, and by the time I got the binding to stick again, a fresh streak of blood was flowing from my elbow, and another from my ankle. I took a napkin from Tate’s tray and put pressure on both wounds in turn, taking care to wipe up any spillage.
How many times am I supposed to do this odd trick any-ways? I wondered.
I was exhausted by the time the sand ran out. I left the fox and her kits estranged from each other, in their separate cages, the binding active. I returned to my room, cleaned my wounds in the wash basin they’d provided me, and went to meet Tratis for dinner.
The conversation was minimal that night, and he commented on how quiet I was, asking me if I was all right.
“I’m fine,” I assured him, really trying to come up with something to say, but my head was so tired from the afternoon’s mind-bending lessons, that I could come up with nothing. He caught me staring off into the distance a few times.
“Sorry,” I apologized, “I’m just really tired. I can’t think of anything to say.”
He shrugged in his casual way.
“Nothing wrong with being quiet. Sometimes a little silence is nice,” he remarked kindly. I was so used to Camphraz drawing conversation out of me, or Ayla calling me “quiet” in a tone that meant I was being “boring.” Tratis didn’t seem to care.
As we ate our dinner, he strove to make conversation for me, even making me laugh a little. Then he told me to get some rest, looking at me with genuine concern. I must have looked beat.
“Morning will come sooner than you think,” he said. I didn’t argue.
“Goodnight,” I said at the door.
“Goodnight Talitha,” he answered, moving to a chair by the fireplace and staring into the flames. “I’m sure you’re doing a fine job. Tate may not admit it, but I can tell that you are, and I’m very grateful for it.”
I nodded shyly. How I had needed to hear those words.
I jolted awake. Someone was standing over me, no candle, just a shadowy figure. I scrambled out of the bed and stumbled toward the darkened fireplace. I crashed into the poker stand. It had been closer than I’d remembered. My toe throbbing, I grasped the poker and brandished it, trying to see the man in front of me. He hadn’t moved.
I might have cried out for help, and after the fact, I realized that there were two guards outside my door, watching and waiting to protect me, but I wasn’t used to waiting for others to get me out of a pinch. I heard a low, familiar chuckle and a wave of anger and embarrassment washed over me. It was Tate.
“Were you going to run me through with that?” he asked patronizingly. He didn’t wait for my answer. “Come with me. We have work to do.”
I hesitated, lowering the poker.
“You won’t need that.” He walked over and pried it out my hand, then gripped my wrist, pulling me toward the door.
“Where are we going?” I resisted.
“To see your friends, the foxes.”
Was it really necessary to break into my room, stand over me in my sleep and terrorize me? It would have been just as easy to send that Ambassador. At least he would have knocked.
When we made it to the Hull there was only one lamp burning within. Without the daylight it looked eerie and cold. The shadows wavered from the flicker of the single wick. The vixen was out of her cage. She looked up at us indifferently and continued sniffing around the room. This was her time to hunt, had she been in the wild. Her pups, however, remained in their cage, whimpering periodically in hopes that she’d remember them.
Tate finally released the grip he had on my wrist and I shook out the knot of pain he’d caused.
“Your binding has held,” he was saying. “Is it heavy in your mind?”
I thought for a moment. “A little, yes, I can tell it’s there.”
Tate’s eyes widened. “Only a little, you say?”
“Well, last night, before I went to bed, my mind felt very full, but it feels lighter now.”
“Hmm…” Tate pondered. “If you were of a weaker strength in your code, you would feel the binding weigh on you heavily for a while, days even,” he considered. “Never mind my musings,” he shook his head. “I’m sure you’d like to see these poor pups have their mother back for good.”
I nodded vigorously.
“Do you remember the word we used to release her yesterday?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I want you to forget it.”
I frowned, unamused. There, again, was the air of mystery he so loved.
“Forget it?” I echoed.
“Please. Will you promise me that you won’t say it this hour?”
“But, why?” I stammered.
“Just promise.”
All I wanted was to be back in bed. If I agreed to his silly promise, I hoped maybe it would return me sooner.
“All right, I promise,” I said feebly.
“Good.” A smile crossed his face. Walking over to the fox, he reached out a hand to stroke her head. He shut his eyes. I watched him curiously, wondering what he was doing. His forehead wrinkled in concentration.
Suddenly, it was as if my skull was splitting. The pain took me by surprise so much that I yelled, reaching up to hold my head, lowering myself to the ground as if it would help. I suddenly felt paralyzed, as if I would never stand again. My mind reeled and screeched at me. It was the binding, I was sure. I wanted to relinquish it, abandon it, forget it. I felt the word forming on my lips, ready to release me from the pain, but I clenched my teeth together, gritting them like a mad person.
This was a test, I knew, and if I spoke the release, I would lose. I kept my resolve for a minute, but it was getting worse and my body shook and clenched even tighter.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the pain eased away. I blinked. I felt the life coming back into my limbs. Slowly, I stood up, ready to demand an explanation from Tate, but I realized as I stood, that he had collapsed on the floor. I stepped back, hand covering my mouth. He lay there, gasping and breathing heavily. Then, eerily, the gasps turned into laughter. He sat up with difficulty but continued laughing at my horrified stance.
“That,” he said, then paused to take another gulp of air, “was a very good beginning.” He reached for one of the bookshelves to stabilize himself. “Of course, I knew from the start, when you got so defensive about your gloves, that there was extra strength in you. You have to wear them to get any sleep, don’t you?” He glanced down at my covered hands. “Haven’t you ever wondered why your senses are so loud and distracting? They drive you mad, don’t they?” he paused, scanning my countenance. “You’ve always considered it a weakness, haven’t you?
I only stared at him, speechless.
He continued, “It is instead, a sign of strength. Your senses and ability are far stronger than that of most Lanterns. Far, far, stronger,” he emphasized. “Perhaps that is why you’re able to perceive the shazod when so many of our kind cannot,” he mused.
“What was that?” I asked, trembling. What was the ear-splitting pain? What had I done that had thrown him to the floor like a rag doll?
“Ah, yes. I was stealing the binding from you, trying to anyway. I wanted to see how strong your mind was. If I would have s
ucceeded, I would have been able to bind the animal to my will instead of your own. But your resistance drained me considerably, thus my journey to the floor. It seems the student is already the master.” He moved on excitedly, “Now, this next time, you will steal the binding from me.”
I shook my head wearily, in denial that the lesson seemed far from over.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Tate soothed. “It’s really very simple. You proceed as if you were binding the animal in the usual way, same words and feelings, except instead of warring with the animal’s will, you war against the Lantern who currently holds control over it, the same way I attempted to war with your mind seconds ago.”
I blinked. That doesn’t sound simple at all, I thought.
As the days and weeks passed there were many more midnight summons.
“I want you at your weakest,” Tate once said to me after I dared to question the hour we were meeting. Lovely, I’d thought. We practiced tirelessly. There were different exercises every time, with different creatures, all of them involving the three processes of binding, stealing, and defending.
I soon learned how to use many different feelings to produce specific effects. I kept a cat from chasing a moth, prevented a serpent from striking a dog with its venom, and stopped that dog from barking at the serpent.
Then, I practiced holding these bindings as Tate tried his best to steal them from me. It puzzled and frustrated him to no end that he could not do so successfully, but he was also strangely excited about it. I wondered, if he could not steal from me, why did he keep trying? It seemed to only end in him crumpling to the floor, and the pain that filled my head when he attempted it was cruel. Surely the process was painful for him too?
Stealing bindings from him was where I struggled the most. Distractions plagued me, and I fought harder each time to increase the potency of my own binding with unwavering thoughts and emotions. In turn, he learned to combat me better by growing his own focus, so before I’d even succeeded the task grew more difficult; every single time.
