Chapters (40)
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Epilogue
- Dedication
- Credits
When a trained Semadran shaper reads another trained Semadran shaper, it is a battle of walls. Our shapers duel sometimes, each lunging at the other, each parrying with a new formidable wall. Mr. Atoosa’Avvah’s book describes it as a necessary aspect of training, but the stories go that he was partial to duels because he won them so often. A Semadran shaper does not read another shaper unless it is a duel or for work; the code of privacy rules it out otherwise. When Athenorkos charmers turn their magic on each other, it is a game, a push-pull of friendly skill. Magic for them is a thing of tricks and traps. With the Droma, magic is understood in an altogether different way. I read Arvada, this old suspicious elf, and ve let me. There was no resistance. There was a muted surprise that I could, but my magic swept into vim with no dams and no barriers. Arvada’s surprise bled out to others in the clan: picked up by some, amplified by others, soothed and smoothed out by a few. The magic was communal and utterly frank. This was a people who had never heard of walls and, when I later tried to explain them, found this concept—so central to my understanding of my own magic and culture—distasteful at best and woefully impolite at worst.
I read Arvada and met with nothing but this clear and untroubled link with the other one hundred and seventy souls crowding the center of the camp. I felt, for the first time in my life as a man harnessing magic, a peace with it. There is a terrible clarity to an entwined life like this, a nakedness and constant exposure, but it was revelatory, and it was comforting. It felt right to me. I felt I belonged. And the link spread this feeling of mine to the rest. As a whole, the clan stepped forward. Arvada’s face softened. Ve cut a disapproving look at Halaavi, but Arvada nodded approval. “What skills does this one have for us?” Arvada asked.
“I speak Droma,” I said. All eyes turned to me, and I laughed nervously. “I can fish. I should be able to learn to weave. I am able.”
“We will teach you what we can,” Arvada said.