Duskfall (20 page)

“They said it’s addictive. Who knows what they
ain’t
saying.”

“I’m doing fine. Nash says my training is going well. He says I have
potential
.” Truth was, she did worry about frost’s addictiveness. She seemed to crave the drug more and more each day. Winter was scared. But she couldn’t tell Lian that.

“Course that’s what Nash tells you,” Lian said. “Just don’t know why you accept it so easily.”

Deep down, she knew he was right. Less than a week ago she’d been unwilling to trust Kali or Nash. But, since discovering
faltira
, things had changed. The old Winter never would have trusted someone this easily.

And the old me was weak
, she thought.

“All I’m saying,” Lian continued, “is that this stuff is changing you. You ain’t the same girl you were in Pranna.”

“I don’t want to be that girl.”

“Then maybe she’s already gone.”

Winter’s jaw clenched. “Just because you’re jealous doesn’t mean you can lecture me on how to live my life.”

Lian spluttered a protest, but Winter could tell: he
was
jealous. She didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before. Why wouldn’t he be?

“You’ve always been the stronger one,” she said. “The protector. Now you’re about to lose that, and you’re taking it out on me.”

“You’re crazy,” Lian said, standing up.

Winter shrugged, but she knew she’d gotten to him. Lian walked to the door, but before he opened it, he turned. “I’m the only ally you have, Winter,” he said. “Don’t push me away.” Then he opened the door, and nearly ran into Nash waiting outside.

“Everything all right?” Nash asked. Lian pushed past him and stormed down the hall. Nash looked at Winter. She didn’t say anything. Nash shrugged. “Ready for your training?”

She eyed the pouch at his belt. In it, she knew, was more
faltira
. She nodded.

“Very well.” He walked in and shut the door behind him.

“Something happen between the two of you?” Nash asked. His concern surprised her. She didn’t know whether the question was genuine or not, but he at least pretended to be. Kali didn’t even bother pretending.

“Everything’s fine,” Winter said. Strange. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the pouch. “He’s still getting used to the idea of me as a telenic.”

Nash nodded. He stood opposite her, straight and tall. Winter wondered whether he had been a soldier.

“Psimancy is a great power,” Nash said, “but it is a power many do not understand. And what people do not understand, they fear.” He took a step towards her, finally reaching into the pouch at his belt. Winter could hardly contain herself. She yearned for the feeling in her veins. “Shall we begin?” Nash said, the frost glinting in his palm.

Winter moved to the edge of the bed, trying not to appear too eager. She took the crystal, swallowed it, and in moments the drug took full effect. Winter felt the burning heat, the chill over her skin. She felt alive again.

“It’s amazing how quickly frost affects you now,” Nash muttered, but Winter could barely hear him. He sounded far away.

Winter’s ability to hone in on reality was improving, though. Concentrating on anything other than her own feelings during her first two attempts with frost was all but impossible. The third time she had managed to acknowledge her surroundings, and now it seemed even easier to focus on what Nash was saying.
Faltira
didn’t seem to enhance her senses per se, but she did feel more
connected
. It was a feeling Winter had longed for her entire life.

“How long does it usually take?” Winter asked, trying to keep the inevitable smile from spreading across her face. She seemed to be constantly grinning whenever she took frost. She probably looked like a maniac.

“A quarter of an hour,” he said. “Sometimes longer. But with you the transition seems shorter and shorter each time. We always knew that some had more affinity to frost than others, but this is very impressive. Although the tell hardly works for you.” Nash bent down, peering into her eyes. “Your eyes are already black as night. Normally it’s quite a sight, to see someone’s eyes go completely dark. But with you there’s no change at all.” Nash straightened. “Now, what did we discuss last time?”

“The Void,” Winter said quickly. She wanted to appear in control of herself. “The source of a psimancer’s power.”

Nash nodded. “Tell me about it.”

Winter took a deep breath, letting frost’s myriad of sensations wash over her. “The Void,” she repeated, desperately trying to concentrate, “is the source of a psimancer’s power.”

Nash frowned. “You already said that,” he said. “A psimancer needs to multitask. You need to speak, to move, to fight,
while
using your powers.” Nash nodded towards the desk near the large mirror. “Reach out with a
tendron
,” he said. “That goblet of water on the table—bring it to me.”

Concentrating, Winter reached. With ease, she grasped the goblet with a
tendron
. One moment, the silver goblet was resting on the table. The next, it rose sharply into the air. It wobbled slightly, a small stream of water cascading over the lip. She knew where her own
tendra
were at all times, what they were doing, she was
aware
of them, but when she looked at the space she knew they occupied, she saw nothing.

“Don’t stop talking,” Nash said. “Tell me more about the Void.”

Winter frowned. She concentrated, moving the goblet slowly through the air towards Nash. “The Void exists beyond our understanding,” she muttered. “It exists beyond us, but… but touches…” The goblet trembled slightly. “It touches every part of our world nonetheless,” she said.

“Not too quickly,” he said. “Control first. Speed will come.”

Winter nodded, trying to dull her impatience. What she had done that first night, with the boulder, filled her mind. She had
strength
, and she wanted to use it. Moving a goblet around seemed stupid.

“Actuals have inherent, unlimited access to the Void,” Winter recited. “Variants, like me, have limited access. We can only access the Void, and thus our powers, through
faltira
.”

Suddenly, the goblet was torn from her grasp. She gasped as it fell to the floor, bouncing off the stone and splashing water onto a woven rug.

Nash hadn’t moved from where he stood, his legs slightly apart, his arms clasped behind his back, looking right at her.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

“You were barely grasping it,” Nash said disapprovingly. “You must be in complete control of whatever you grip with your
tendra
. Nothing should be able to intervene with your control. Complete and total mastery.”

“How am I supposed to know when someone is trying to interfere?” she asked. “I can’t sense someone else’s
tendra
.”

Nash raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure about that?”

Winter hesitated. She assumed, of course, that she couldn’t. She certainly couldn’t sense anything from Nash whenever he released
tendra
.

“I don’t think so,” Winter said.

The goblet lifted into the air again. Nash was lifting it with a
tendron
of his own.

“Focus,” he said. “Not on the goblet, but on the space around it. The goblet is only an object.”

Winter concentrated, but there was nothing. “I don’t see any…” Her voice trailed off. She
could
sense something there. She couldn’t see it, but… the sensation was the same she got when she knew someone was behind her, or the prickling feeling when something or someone was just about to touch her, but had not yet done so.

“Canta rising,” Nash muttered. “You sense it, don’t you?”

Winter nodded, her eyes wide.

“Took me weeks to sense someone else’s
tendra
,” Nash said. He shook his head, and the goblet moved back to the table where it had been in the first place. “We’ll discuss sensing later,” he said. “Let’s stick with the basics. But first, you got something wrong, earlier.”

Winter cocked her head. “What?”

“Actuals do not have unlimited access to the Void. They have innate access, true, but their access is limited as much as a voyant’s. I can only draw so much from the Void before my body begins to betray itself. My senses shut down, one by one. That’s how I know I need to stop. Some psimancers don’t heed those warnings, and they face… consequences.”

“Such as?”

“We don’t need to get into it now. But remember, no psimancer has unlimited power—no matter how great an actual’s strength, or how much frost a variant consumes. We aren’t invincible, Winter.” Winter nodded. “Very well. Now, try again.”

Winter reached towards the goblet. She lifted it gently off the table and moved it towards Nash. It floated in front of him, and Winter braced herself, anticipating another attempt to knock it away.

Instead, Nash raised his eyebrow. “I don’t want an empty cup,” he said. “Fill it with water, please.”

Winter nodded, and began moving the goblet back to rest on the table. She could feel sweat beading on her brow.

“No,” Nash said, and the goblet stopped in midair. “Leave it there, in front of me.”

“How?” He was asking too much. She couldn’t do this, not yet. A bead of sweat dripped down her nose.

“You know how,” he said. “You’re holding the goblet with one
tendron
. You have others. The jug is there, on the table.”

Winter had only ever used one
tendron
before, as far as she was aware. She wasn’t sure how—

And then, as she held the goblet in front of Nash, the silver jug rose slowly off the dresser. She was aware of another
tendron
, her own, guiding it slowly.

“So simple,” she said with wonder. Picking up the jug was much easier than the first time she had consciously used a
tendron
.

“Once you find your first
tendron
, the others are progressively easier to access,” Nash said.

Winter concentrated, trying to sense another
tendron
. There. She reached for a silver plate, resting on the table, and lifted it into the air.

“Don’t,” Nash said sharply. Winter dropped the third
tendron
, looking at him. “Only two for now,” he said. “
Control
, Winter.” He nodded at the goblet in front of him, now overflowing with water from the still-pouring jug.

Winter frowned. How was she supposed to focus on so many things at once? “Sorry,” she mumbled, moving the jug back to the table. She left the goblet in front of him, waiting for him to take it.

Winter moved her tongue around in her mouth. Had she bitten it? She thought, for a brief moment, she had tasted blood.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a huge force slammed into Winter’s
tendron
holding the goblet. The attack caught her off guard, but she was surprised to see the goblet still there. Not a drop of water had fallen.

“Very good. I put a lot of power into that attempt, but you kept control. Very good, indeed.”

“I… I think I
felt
it, before it happened. I tasted blood in my mouth. Did something go wrong?”

Nash shook his head, smiling at her. “That’s your tell. The way you can recognize whether psimancy is being used around you. The taste of blood is a common manifestation.”

Winter nodded in relief.

“You attacked my
tendron
, not my grip on the cup itself,” Winter said, her mind racing.

Nash’s smile grew wider. “That’s your first lesson in breaking. If you want to break someone’s control over an object, attack their
tendron
directly, not the object with which it interacts. Go for the link. Exerting force on the object itself is all but useless.”

Winter nodded. It seemed to make sense. If an object were knocked from her grasp, she could still recover it if she was quick enough. But if her
tendron
were severed, she would completely lose control.

“Now,” he said, “the frost should be wearing off, if the past few days have been anything to go by. How do you feel?”

“Fine,” Winter said, but he was right. The fire was fading, and her sense of power and capability with it.

Nash looked her up and down with his storm-gray eyes. “Be honest with me, Winter. The first months of a variant’s instruction are extremely important. I can help you overcome the worst of the addiction, with careful rationing and counsel, but if not, the addiction could destroy you.”

Winter shrugged. “What do you want me to say? That I don’t feel the pleasure and joy after it fades? I don’t. That I feel let down and disappointed and inadequate when I’m not on frost? I do. That is how I feel.”

Nash frowned. “Very well,” he said, after a moment. “You’re being honest, and that’s important. Those feelings are normal. But if you start feeling a
need
to take frost, let me know immediately, if you can.”

Winter shivered; the heat was gone, and she was left with only cold. She was her normal, useless self.

“What do you mean, ‘if I can’?”

He looked at her, eyes hard as iron. “If you
do
start feeling an unreasonable need to take frost, it’s probably too late. You won’t recognize the need as unreasonable, at that point. Then, it will consume you.”

“It can be that powerful?” She remembered walking the streets of Cineste with her father when she was young. The hollow faces, the torn, soiled clothing that had once been so expensive.

Nash nodded. “I’ve seen
very
powerful psimancers fall to frost addiction.” Winter thought, but wasn’t sure, that she detected a hint of sadness in his voice. “No variant is immune. You must take extreme caution.”

Winter nodded, feeling a bit nervous. What
had
she gotten herself into? Perhaps Lian was right. This was too much, too early. Too dangerous.

Then, reaching into the pouch at his belt, Nash handed her a small stone. Winter looked up in surprise. She had been hoping he would give her a frost crystal; he had said nothing of stones. The thing, matte black, was no larger than the end of her thumb, oblong in shape. It was perfectly smooth, and had no markings or imperfections that she could see.