Back Ariah Save as PDF
Chapters (40)
  1. Chapter 1
  2. Chapter 2
  3. Chapter 3
  4. Chapter 4
  5. Chapter 5
  6. Chapter 6
  7. Chapter 7
  8. Chapter 8
  9. Chapter 9
  10. Chapter 10
  11. Chapter 11
  12. Chapter 12
  13. Chapter 13
  14. Chapter 14
  15. Chapter 15
  16. Chapter 16
  17. Chapter 17
  18. Chapter 18
  19. Chapter 19
  20. Chapter 20
  21. Chapter 21
  22. Chapter 22
  23. Chapter 23
  24. Chapter 24
  25. Chapter 25
  26. Chapter 26
  27. Chapter 27
  28. Chapter 28
  29. Chapter 29
  30. Chapter 30
  31. Chapter 31
  32. Chapter 32
  33. Chapter 33
  34. Chapter 34
  35. Chapter 35
  36. Chapter 36
  37. Chapter 37
  38. Epilogue
  39. Dedication
  40. 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.