‘Where are we?’ Far-a-mael smoothed out the map’s creases over a cheap pine table. ‘There.’
He prodded the dark spot marked out as Golmar Crossing. They’d arrived in the miniscule riverside town just hours before sunset. The place was home to a rickety old bridge that served as the only border crossing between Gor Narvon and Abnatol. The town also boasted an inn, and after so much time spent resting on the floor of a tent, Far-a-mael was looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed. He smiled, now one country closer to home. There was a soft knock at the door.
‘Come in.’
‘Far-a . . . I mean, Gil’rei.’ Seteal lowered her head respectfully and made her way into the room. ‘Would you like to resume my lessons?’ the young lady asked from her place by the doorway.
‘Certainly.’ Far-a-mael waved her inside. The silly little thing always needed such explicit direction. She irritated him at the best of times, but lately even more so than usual. El-i-miir, too, for that matter. Far-a-mael rolled his neck before turning to inspect the girl suspiciously. Seteal was hiding something. The Ways screamed in his ears, but for some reason Far-a-mael couldn’t determine what they were saying.
‘Sit down.’ He watched the girl snatch up a pillow. ‘Not on the floor!’ Far-a-mael barked. ‘I’m tired. Just sit on the chair.’
‘Okay.’ Seteal sat at a small table in the corner of the room, a sullen expression contorting her features. What was wrong with the stupid girl? She was always so miserable, the way she trotted about with that gloomy expression and murky, discontented aura. She should’ve appreciated Far-a-mael’s efforts in liberating her from Elmsville, that Maker-forsaken hole of a place.
‘Do as you did yesterday,’ Far-a-mael ordered, his dark mood refusing to budge.
‘I need your help,’ Seteal said.
‘Haven’t you practiced?’
‘You only showed me last night,’ she retorted insolently.
‘Fine,’ Far-a-mael waved his hand and turned to look over the river through a smudged window. He didn’t need to meditate to become one with the Ways, as was encouraged of most new reis. Eventually, such a tactic was grown out of by even the dullest of students. Far-a-mael turned back, tracing his eyes over the floor where old and faded strands of light told stories of events that’d occurred in the past. There’d been an argument by the door where a stain of angry red had been left floating for none but the Elglair to see. There was a vague purple smear by the window, the green thread knotted within telling Far-a-mael the story of a broken heart. Anyone with white pupils was able to see the vivid lights that snaked about the world, but it took the knowledge of a gil to properly interpret them.
As Far-a-mael focused on the dancing strands of light, the room appeared to brighten, hiding none of its secrets. There was a hidden wall cavity to Far-a-mael’s left in which someone had once stowed a bottle of gin and then forgotten about it. El-i-miir pursued her studies not five strides away in the next room. There was a bird . . . the bird . . . but nothing. Far-a-mael’s spine tingled unforgivingly. Something was wrong. Seteal’s aura shuddered nervously and he was able to see its most intimate details.
‘Relax,’ he ordered.
The young woman closed her eyes. She was trying to focus, but murky green and purple sprays trickled throughout her aura, disturbing her with useless concerns. There. Far-a-mael snatched at the pale blues and yellows buried deep within and tied them together. He pulled them to the surface where they encapsulated Seteal, lulling her into deep, peaceful thought.
‘I’ve done it,’ Seteal murmured.
‘Of course you have,’ Far-a-mael replied without bothering to mask his sarcasm. ‘You’d better practice tonight. I’ll be expecting you to do it on your own tomorrow.’
‘Yes, Gil’rei,’ Seteal replied, her eyes wide with curiosity.
‘Now, listen,’ Far-a-mael spoke softly, ‘I asked you to come here tonight for a reason. It’s time we discovered whether you have any semblance of the Elglair eye.’
‘What do you mean?’ Seteal asked, her confusion causing her hold on the Ways to waver. ‘My eyes aren’t like yours. You know that.’
‘Yes, of course I do.’ Far-a-mael snatched at the girl’s aura and rearranged it to calm her once again. ‘I’m just hoping that with some effort you’ll be able to see, even if only vaguely, as we do.’
‘All right.’ Seteal shrugged. ‘What should I do?’
‘Well, first of all, what did you see when you became one with the Ways?’
‘Nothing,’ Seteal replied. ‘Everything looks the same . . . well, maybe a little clearer, but that’s all.’
‘What do you see when you look at me?’ Far-a-mael asked, failing to keep the irritation from his voice.
‘I just see you.’ Seteal frowned.
‘Try harder,’ Far-a-mael ordered. ‘Look carefully. Do you see anything? Even a faint glow on my skin?’
‘I’m sorry.’ Seteal sighed. ‘It’s just you.’
‘Torrid!’ Far-a-mael rubbed his temples.
‘Is there anything else I can try?’
‘No, child,’ Far-a-mael murmured. ‘You either have the ability or you don’t. It’s not something you can practice.’ He released the Ways and watched as his impression of Seteal’s aura became less vivid. ‘I’m afraid your pupils are simply too dark to see through.’
‘So . . . what does this mean?’ Seteal’s eyes revealed anxiety, her aura darkening as she lost focus. ‘You can still save me, can’t you?’
‘What?’ Far-a-mael raised his eyebrows in confusion. ‘Save you from what?’
‘Dying!’ Seteal wailed.
‘Oh, right . . . that.’ Far-a-mael silently reprimanded himself for having forgotten the little white lie he’d designed to get the girl to come along to begin with. ‘Yes, of course I can help you. I’m not going to let you die.’
‘Thank Maker.’ The girl’s expression became one of relief. ‘So what’s the problem with my inability to see like you?’
‘Oh . . . nothing really,’ Far-a-mael uttered distractedly. ‘It just means a great deal of the Ways will remain inaccessible to you.’
‘So?’ Seteal looked at Far-a-mael expectantly. ‘I don’t care about the Ways, outside of preventing them from killing me.’
‘And here I was thinking you’d come to appreciate your gift,’ Far-a-mael said contemptuously.
‘Sort of,’ Seteal murmured, ‘but I’m hardly aiming to become an Elglair warrior, am I?’
‘You mean a hadone,’ Far-a-mael corrected.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘That’s what you call an Elglair soldier,’ Far-a-mael said softly. ‘But never mind all that.’
‘Look.’ Seteal sighed, standing up and half-turning toward the door. ‘Clearly I’m not as powerful as you thought I’d be. Maybe I’m not a danger to myself after all.’
‘Seteal, wait,’ Far-a-mael said firmly. ‘There are plenty of things to be good at aside from the manipulation and visualisation of auras. Just look at El-i-miir,’ Far-a-mael raised his hands for emphasis. ‘Did you know she’s able to recognise when people are lying?’
‘Really?’ Seteal said in surprise.
‘Indeed.’ Far-a-mael laughed, glad to have won back her interest. ‘Along with her incredible powers of affiliation, that was one of the primary reasons I took her on. The ability is so rare that I couldn’t allow such an opportunity to pass me by. You see, the knowing is quite a different area of the Ways and it’s one in which I’m certain you’ll excel. Keep practicing and you’ll be fine.’
‘All right.’ Seteal cracked a smile. ‘Thanks, Gil’rei.’ She turned and marched toward the exit with heightened spirits.
‘Just a moment, Seteal,’ Far-a-mael intoned, focusing on the young woman’s aura as she turned to face him. He dug about for a moment and pulled hard on the slender black weaving he’d created earlier. The girl shivered and her face darkened. ‘How do you feel about silts today?’
‘I hate them, of course,’ she
mumbled, staring at her shoes.
‘And it’s appropriate to hate them,’ Far-a-mael said as he dexterously snatched up a thick red cord burrowing through Seteal’s aura and added it to his earlier weaving. A moment later a fetid brown lump formed and he pushed its pulsating mass into the heart of her aura, binding it within the black strands.
‘Off you go now,’ Far-a-mael encouraged. ‘You should practice what I’ve taught you.’
‘Yes, Gil’rei.’ Seteal’s eyes came up lifeless as she turned to leave.
The door closed with a soft thud and all was silent. Far-a-mael exhaled tiredly and sat down, allowing his feelings to show now that he was alone. How could he have been so foolish? How could the silver glass have been so wrong? For Maker’s sake, she couldn’t even see! He’d be the laughing stock of the Elglair, an old fool who traipsed across the world to bring home some blind, useless half-breed. His application for eldership would be laughed out the door.
‘Get a hold of yourself, you old fool,’ Far-a-mael growled, irritated by his own defeatist thoughts. ‘Give her time. You’ve waited this long. Just give her a little more time.’
CHAPTER FIVE
OUT THE WINDOW