Drifter sighed, then proceeded to kick at Kelsier’s leg repeatedly, shocking him with the pain of it. He screamed, holding his leg. It should have cracked from the force of those kicks, and though it had not, the pain was overwhelming.

“This is a lesson,” Drifter said, though it was difficult to hear the words through the pain. “But not the one you might think it is. You don’t have a body, and I don’t have the inclination to actually injure your soul. That pain is caused by your mind; it’s thinking about what should be happening to you, and responding.” He hesitated. “I’ll refrain from making you choke on a chunk of your own flesh.”

He walked toward the middle of the pool. Kelsier watched through eyes quivering with pain as Drifter held his hands out to the sides and closed his eyes. He stepped into the center of the pool, the deep portion, and vanished into the light.

A moment later, a figure climbed back out of the pool. Yet this time, the person was shadowy, glowing with inner light like …

Like someone in the world of the living. This pool had let Drifter transition from the world of the dead to the real world. Kelsier gaped, following Drifter with his eyes as the man strode past the pillars in the room, then stopped at the other side. Two tiny sources of metal still glowed fiercely there to Kelsier’s eyes.

Drifter selected one. It was small, as he could toss it into the air and catch it again. Kelsier could sense the triumph in that motion.

Kelsier closed his eyes and concentrated. No pain. His leg wasn’t actually hurt. Concentrate.

He managed to make some of the pain fade. He sat up in the pool, rippling light coming up to his chest. He breathed in and out, though he didn’t need the air.

Damn. The first person he’d seen in months had thrashed him, then stolen something from the chamber outside. He didn’t know what, or why, or even how the Drifter had managed to slip from one world to the next.

Kelsier crawled to the center of the pool, lowering himself down into the deep portion. He stood, his leg still aching faintly, and put his hands to the sides. He concentrated, trying to …

To what? Transition? What would that even do to him?

He didn’t care. He was frustrated and humiliated. He needed to prove to himself that he wasn’t incapable.

He failed. No amount of concentration, visualization, or straining of muscles made him do what the Drifter had managed. He climbed from the pool, exhausted and chastened, and settled on the side.

He didn’t notice Fuzz standing there until the god spoke. “What were you doing?”