CHAPTER 13

“You want me to what?” Xann stood with his arms crossed, staring at Kelon.

“Throw the knives at me,” the Master of Arheim repeated.

Astrea lay on her bed with a light coverlet drawn over her shoulders against the evening chill, arms crossed under her pillow in her usual position, grinning. The two men arguing on the rug before her were really like two brothers—so alike yet so different.

“I won’t do it,” Xann said flatly. “Get Ted to do it.”

“He’s in the forest, mending traps.”

“I’ll fetch him.”

“Just do it, Xann!”

“I won’t! Last time you did this—”

“Last time I was exhausted and hadn’t slept in two days!”

“What happened last time?” Astrea interjected.

“He nearly sliced his arm off,” Xann informed her.
“I was exhausted. And that wasn’t even ‘last time.’ I’ve done this several times since that incident, with people other than yourself, and I’ve never so much as fumbled.”

Xann eyed his friend suspiciously. Kelon sighed and whirled toward the bed. “Astrea, would you do it, if I asked you? Would you throw those—” He pointed to a neat line of knives lying on a table— “at me?”

“Yes,” Astrea said, smiling openly at Xann. “I trust you with my life, Kelon. I think I can trust you with your own.”

Xann glared at her, and then threw his hands up. “All right. You asked for it.” He stalked over to the table. “All ten?”

“Yes.”

“You’re taking your life into your hands, Kelon. I stand clear of any injury or death that may come of this experiment. And Astrea, you’re my witness. I won’t stand accused of killing the Master of Arheim.”

“I stand witness,” Astrea said gravely.

Kelon took up a stance across the room, about twenty feet from Xann. Astrea watched carefully, trying to notice the exact moment he slipped into ethera, but was unable to tell the difference. He breathed and moved exactly the same. There was no extraordinary transformation to indicate that he’d suddenly acquired superhuman speed and senses.

“Go,” Kelon said.

Xann took a breath, and then reached down and began to throw the knives as fast as he could, alternating hands to keep up a steady barrage. Astrea glanced over at Kelon, expecting to see him dodging, and was startled to see that he was catching the weapons one at a time and dropping them hilt-first to the ground. She stopped breathing.

The last weapon clattered to the floor and there was dead silence in the room. Kelon took one step forward, removing himself from the nest of steel at his feet, and bowed theatrically. Astrea burst into applause. It was difficult to clap with her hands laid parallel to each other, but she managed.

“Bravo,” she called. “Bravo!”

Even Xann had to smile. “You have gotten better,” he admitted. “I have no idea how you’re doing this, but it just gets more impressive with time.”

“Always trust the Master of Arheim,” Kelon said lightly, bending to retrieve the weapons. “He’s never wrong.”

“Sure,” Xann said, heading for the door. “Well, now that you’re done having me try to kill you, I think I’ll be turning in for the night. Toodle pip and all, duckies. See you in the morning. Sweet dreams, Astrea dearest.”

“Good night, Xann.”

“Your bedroom’s the second to the left,” Kelon called after him.

Astrea looked at Xann curiously as he sauntered down the hall. “Does he always talk that way when he’s arriving or leaving?”

“Around other people he talks that way continuously. I think it’s just that he’s a little more relaxed around us. He forgets to be amusing, sometimes, in the middle of things.” Kelon was replacing his knives in their sheathes, each one sliding into place with a clean click.

“He is amusing,” Astrea said thoughtfully, a faint, unconscious smile hovering about her lips. “I suppose he’s well-liked in town. By the girls, I mean.”

“Yes.”

“Is he attached, currently?”

Kelon looked at her sharply, but Astrea was too lost in her musings to notice. “Not that I know of,” he said coolly. “Ask him yourself.” Adjusting the last holster strap, he came over to stand by the bed. “Relax a moment. I’m going to change the compresses.”

Astrea laid her head down and felt him peel the coverlet down her waist. Cool air rushed in, making her shiver.

“How do you feel?” he asked, deftly peeling the cotton pads from her skin and replacing them with fresh pads dressed in herbs. “Better?”

“Yes. I could probably sit up if I tried.”

“Tomorrow.” He traced the skin above the gouge wound with one light finger, regret inherent in the gesture. “This will scar, this one deep slash. Some of the others as well.”

“Trophies of war,” Astrea said, trying to joke, but intensely aware of his touch where it lingered on her shoulder. She simultaneously wanted him to move away and stay like that forever. She wasn’t sure how it was possible to want both at the same time.

“You’re too young to scar like this.”

“Only seven years younger than you. We could be brother and sister.” What she left unsaid lingered in the air: Or husband and wife.

“Yes,” he answered, and continued with the compresses. When he had finished, he replaced the coverlet and went to close the curtains. It was nearly nightfall now, and an owl hooted melodiously in the distance, completing the picture of melting sunset and summer night breeze.

“Kelon,” Astrea said suddenly, “don’t you ever get lonely?”

“I have Ted and Leila,” he said.

“They’re different.”

He shrugged. “I suppose all leaders are lonely, to a point. To lead is to be alone.”

“Do you ever regret becoming Master of Arheim?”

“Is anything in life without regret?”

“You’re not answering my questions,” she said. “And it’s rude to answer a question with a question.”

He smiled, and then bent over the bed and kissed her forehead lightly. “Goodnight, Astrea. Sleep well.”

He was out the door before she could say another word.

&

Astrea decided not to mention the kiss the next morning. Kelon acted as though nothing had happened, and Xann was more than loquacious enough to fill both their silences. He chattered on brightly through breakfast, keeping them both engaged in idle but interesting conversation, and then withdrew afterwards, claiming to have some business in town.

Which left Astrea and Kelon to work on ethera.

Astrea felt sufficiently healed to sit up, provided she didn’t make any sudden motions, and Kelon said her wounds, excepting the one deep cut, had healed sufficiently to allow it. “They’re mostly skin wounds,” he explained, “and the herbs are helping.” Astrea propped herself up on the pillows at an incline with Kelon’s help, remembering how she’d bounded out of bed effortlessly in health. She promised herself she’d never again take such freedom for granted. It was true that people didn’t miss things until they were gone.

“Ready?” Kelon said, taking a seat on a chair beside her.

“I think so.”

“It might not happen on your first attempt. Just do what you can.”

“All right.”

“Close your eyes,” he instructed.

Astrea did.

“Inhale, exhale,” Kelon said quietly. “Again. Breathe in, breathe out. Keep breathing.”

Astrea followed his instructions and felt a little sleepy. The sunlight was warm on her face. His voice went on calmly, soothing.

“Now, focus. You have to be keenly aware of every muscle in your body and know where they all are, how tense each one is, what it’s capable of doing—try to hold that all in your mind. Loosely.”

“It’s a lot of muscles,” she said.

“You do it automatically when you fight, when you’re focused enough. Imagine that you’re in a fight. Imagine the energy, the glory, the thrill.”

Astrea imagined Sinstre looming over her and instantly felt a buzz of anxiety go through her, lacing all her nerves with uneasy energy.

“Relax,” Kelon said. “You’re tensing up.”

Sinstre was obviously the wrong choice. Astrea took a breath, and then imagined Kelon before her in the sparring ring, knives drawn. She was nervous, but she was excited. Her heart pounded. She was tense but her body knew what to do. She was ready.

She began to concentrate, imagining the muscles in her body lighting up with a warm amber glow as she took each one into account. She started with her toes. Then feet, calves, thighs, buttocks, waist, chest—and suddenly everything went blank.

“I lost it,” she said, disappointed.

When he didn’t answer her, she opened her eyes and saw him staring at her bare feet, trying very hard not to laugh. “What?” she demanded.

“Your toes are twitching,” he informed her.

“Oh.” Astrea stared at her toes, which were behaving perfectly now.

“You can’t do it one muscle at a time,” Kelon said, “You have to feel everything simultaneously, hold it in the back of your mind, and then give a little nudge and let it click into place.”

“All right.” Astrea closed her eyes again. Again she imagined Kelon. Again she felt the warm buzz of excitement. Feel everything at once. Relax. Hold it in the back of your mind.

A bird chirped outside.

Her concentration shattered.

She tried again. She tried for half an hour, trying to shut out everything but the sensations inside her own body, trying to hold her awareness of herself inside her mind and let it click together like a lock.

To no avail.

“I can’t concentrate,” she said at last, opening her eyes to see Kelon sitting there, watching her patiently. “I’m trying everything you’ve said. It’s not working.”

“Maybe you’re trying too hard,” he said. “Sigmani made me sit still to practice, but the very first time I broke into ethera was during a fight, spontaneously, without thinking. It has to happen automatically.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Astrea said, rubbing her nose exasperatedly.

“It’s like breathing once you learn. You start slipping into it automatically when there’s danger. Have you—have you ever been fighting, or doing anything at all for that matter, but most likely fighting—and suddenly broken into what felt like a—a clear expanse of space? Smooth? Calm? Perfect, timeless? This crystal clarity that lets you see everything, all of a sudden, and makes you wonder just why in Aerien you couldn’t understand before?”

“Er...” said Astrea, somewhat taken aback by his fervor. “I’ve had my good days, if that’s what you mean.”

“It’s more than good days. In the army they call it being ‘in the zone.’ A state where a soldier is absolutely focused on one goal and one goal only: the total destruction of his enemy. No distractions, no second thoughts—just perfect, pure energy. Ethera is that perfect energy. But bottled. Tamed. Available on demand.”

Astrea smiled at his enthusiasm. “What does it feel like when you’re using it?”

“Like flying,” he said. “Afterwards you feel sweaty and strained on the inside, like you’ve been peering at a dark page for too long, but while you’re actually using it, there’s no better feeling in the world. Leila’s coming,” he said in the same tone of voice. “This is a lovely day, isn’t it, Astrea?”

Astrea agreed, and they were busily engaged in a discussion of the weather when the kindly old woman knocked at the door. Her arrival marked the end of Astrea’s first bout with ethera.