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Coosuptik River


“I may have already mentioned once or twice that my kin-group, Clan Korval, is rather prone to falling into scrapes.”

“I believe you have said something on that point,” Tekelia murmured, smoothing a hand over her hair.

“Yes, well. It happens that some years ago, Uncle Val Con fell into a scrape that was remarkable even by our standards. I shall gloss most of it, as it would take longer than we have left in the day to lay it all out. The important point is that things went from bad to worse, and from worse to dire, whereupon the first speaker invoked . . . an emergency protocol. Part of that protocol had the clan’s very youngest, and the very oldest, retiring to a safe place while the remainder—who are very resourceful, but few in number—undertook to resolve the problem.”

She took a breath and lifted a hand. Tekelia obligingly wove their fingers together, and Padi brought their joined hands to her breast.

“Hidden as secretly as possible, then, were two elders, two halflings, and three children. Quin was eldest, then myself, then Syl Vor, who was considerably younger, and two infants.”

She paused again, and Tekelia felt her tension crackling in the ambient.

“If telling this story distresses you, I needn’t—” Tekelia began, but Padi held up her free hand.

“It will distress me, because it is a distressing story. But, I wish to tell it, because you wanted to know why I had sealed my Gift away, and what was the result of doing so. I . . . feel that you should know these things, not only to know me better, but in case it should in some way help those who have their Gifts sealed away, in order to keep them safe.”

“I understand,” Tekelia said, and settled more closely against the tree.

“I will try to fly the route quickly,” she said, lowering her hand to place it over their clasped hands.

“It was, as you of course have understood, a very tense time. We had our regular lessons, and accelerated piloting courses, and accelerated self-defense. I was Quin’s co-pilot, as we kept the order amongst us; Syl Vor, the babies, and the elders were our passengers. It was our duty, pilot and co-pilot, to present a calm face, and to learn everything that we could that might ensure our survival.”

She paused for another deep breath.

“Well. All was as it was, and one morning I woke, earlier than the rest, to find that the things on my bedside table were—floating. I blinked, and they tumbled down, with clatter enough to wake Quin, who accepted that I had flailed about in my sleep, and I lay there, trying to convince myself that it was an anomaly. My father, as you know, is a Healer, and his youngest sister is . . . a very powerful dramliza. In the usual way, it would have surprised no one to find that I had a Gift.

“However, we were not in the usual way; there was neither Father nor Aunt Anthora, nor a Healer Hall, to teach me, and, to say the thing and get it done—I decided that, for the sake of calmness, and our ultimate survival, I would not deal with—whatever it was.

“So, I put it in a closet.”

“Of course you did,” Tekelia murmured, and Padi laughed, rueful.

“Of course I did,” she repeated. “After a time, we were liberated from our retreat, only the clan’s great enemy had not been quite entirely vanquished. I came to my apprenticeship under the master trader somewhat later than I ought to have, and it seemed intolerable to me that my rightful training would again be set aside while I was trained in a Gift I had no wish to have.”

“So you kept it locked away.”

“I did. And I suspect that it will come as no surprise to you to learn that, over time, it cost me more and more energy to keep that door locked.”

She paused again, and closed her eyes. Tekelia saw a pattern take shape in the ambient, and felt Padi’s tension ease.

She opened her eyes.

“Eventually, the situation came to the attention of my elders, who begged me to throw down the walls and become wholly myself. By then, I own, I was afraid for what might happen—which turned out to be very reasonable.”

She stopped abruptly, her breathing somewhat ragged, the grip of her fingers very nearly painful. Tekelia breathed into the ambient, warming it, sending calmness swirling ’round Padi’s pattern. She sighed, and relaxed slightly.

“Would you,” Tekelia asked, “care for another glass of wine? Or some water?”

“Water, please,” Padi said, releasing Tekelia’s fingers and sitting up.

Tekelia reached into the basket and took two blue-glazed pottery cups. Padi took them in hand, and Tekelia went back to the basket, withdrawing a cold bottle.

Tekelia filled each cup, put the bottle away and accepted the cup Padi held out.

For a moment, they simply sat with each other, sipping water, listening to the breeze in the trees, and the murmur of the river.

“Speaking of sending something to Metlin . . . ” Padi said after a time. “I threw something, inadvertently, and I still don’t know where it landed. Father offered that it may have gone back in time, where it might have forcibly struck the original owner in the head. He seemed to find the notion quite cheering.”

Tekelia grinned.

“Can you describe this object?”

“Oh, indeed! A flat stone disk, blue and green swirling ’round each other. Neither ugly nor beautiful, though I always thought it a trifle sullen. Father used it as a coaster on his desk. Perhaps that was its original use.”

“You sent it to me,” Tekelia said.

Padi stared.

“Your pardon, I—what?”

“In fact, it did hit me in the head—not hard! I’ll return it to you this evening—I should have done so before this, but it quite slipped my mind.”

“But, why—forgive me. Why would it have come to you?”

“I must have been close in your thoughts,” Tekelia said. “The ambient tends to operate like that.”

“But there was no ambient! I was sitting in the master trader’s office aboard the Dutiful Passage, doing a lesson in raising an object—and the object offered for raising was that disk. Then—there was a disturbance. I was startled, and—quite lost track.”

“If there was no ambient, where did you get the energy to throw the disk?”

Padi shook her head. “My teachers would have it that my Gift draws on my personal energy, as would any physical activity.”

“Oh.” Tekelia drank water and set the cup aside. “In any case, you may have it back this evening.”

“Thank you. I’m sure Father will be delighted to see it again.” She sighed and put her cup next to Tekelia’s.

“There is a little more to the story, if you care to hear it.”

“I would very much like to hear it.”

Padi nodded.

“Matters stood in equilibrium for some while. I contrived to ignore my Gift, though the price of keeping it contained was becoming dear.

“And then—we were on-port, and agents of the clan’s enemy found us. Father was—badly wounded. I tried to hide from those who were sent to capture me, and when that failed, I killed them. Two people. I killed them with my Gift.”

“Padi—” Tekelia reached out, but she shook her head.

“Very quickly now,” she said, breathless again. “The energy of my Gift breaking free threw me into a closet, and I was quite at a loss, until I realized that the dragon I had released was nothing more fearsome than myself.” She sighed. “That my Gift was myself—a portion of the whole, without which I was a stranger to myself. Which is of course what my elders had been telling me all along.”

She let her breath out in a huff; the ambient swirled with mingled humor and sadness.

“The arrival of my Gift created new problems, though none particularly deadly. I am, so I am told, very bright. Not even Priscilla can See me well enough to Sort me, and I am not at all adept at making tools.”

“So you were sent to Lady Selph for Sorting?”

“In fact, and I will say that Lady Selph does not find me so much bright as dense.”

Tekelia laughed, and Padi did.

After a moment, she said, “You see why I wanted to tell you.”

“I do, and I thank you,” Tekelia said. “I have another question.”

“Ask.”

“Would you like to go back to the house?” Tekelia asked, and allowed the ambient to heat in a different way.

Padi laughed.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I would very much like to go back to the house.”


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