The Orphans' Promise (10 page)

“Out of the question. Let’s do an exercise. You’ll see.”

Léti caught him off guard. Grigán thought that such a tirade would have scared her, at least a little, but he was wrong. The young woman had something boiling inside her. He knew her sentiments only too well. He called it
the warrior’s rage
and knew how dangerous a feeling it was.

Oh well, if she wanted to do an exercise, she would have one, he thought. A good lesson was precisely what they needed to set things straight.

“All right,” he said while juggling his sword. “Attack me.”

For the first time, Léti looked surprised. “Just like this? With what?”

“With nothing. Me, I have the sword, and you, you have no fear.”

The young woman felt disheartened. She had never imagined it would be like this. But that didn’t matter; if the warrior decided on an exercise, she would yield to his wishes.

She tried to approach him from many different angles, but Grigán kept her a full blade-length away. She tried to surprise him with a rush, without any success. The warrior anticipated each one of her movements and protected himself behind his curved sword.

Léti was forced into attempting even more reckless attacks, running at him without worrying about the sharp steel, which was after all the moral of the lesson. But Grigán would easily sidestep her attacks, hardly restraining his curses at her carelessness.

Rey cheered her on, but there was no solution to this type of exercise. The warrior had simply wanted her to taste the bitterness of defeat, that’s all.

Rage seized her. She had sworn to never back down. Sworn to be invulnerable.

She faked another attempt, and was immediately foiled by the appearance of a steel point. Desperate, Léti grabbed the blade in a quick movement with her right hand.

Grigán’s reflexes were fast enough to not pull the blade back, but Léti’s blood already stained the metal between her gashed fingers.

The young woman reached out her free hand and slowly placed a finger on the paling warrior’s heart.

“I won,” she proclaimed.

Her voice trembled slightly.

Corenn was hesitant to watch Léti’s lesson. She was curious—and nervous—about what was going to happen with Grigán and her niece, but at the same time didn’t want to encourage the young woman with her presence.

In the end, Yan relieved her of the decision. All day the young man had attempted to complete the test, and, of course, had failed. When Léti, Grigán, and Rey left, he had asked the Mother if they could resume their
long conversation
. He had some more questions for her.

Corenn happily welcomed his suggestion. Even if she considered herself a Mother more than a magician, a subject like Will could always stir her interest. Even with a novice like Yan, she would still enjoy discussing it.

Bowbaq had nodded off again, as the calming concoction, per Grigán’s recipe, took effect. Still, Corenn chose a spot far enough away from the cellar to avoid being overheard. She was
keen on keeping their
long conversation
a secret, at least until Yan passed the test.

The reason was simple. If everyone knew what Yan was trying to do, the young man would never manage to focus for long enough to succeed. Pressure and anxiety would busy his mind, and he would fail. No, the Mother thought, right now, his Will was the only thing that needed stimulation.

Corenn prepared herself to answer all of his questions, and there were plenty.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted. “I mean, I can guess that just waiting and waiting won’t be enough.”

“No, you’re right. What have you been thinking then?”

“I get the feeling that I’m missing something… something that I should
do
, but I don’t know what. It’s like I have a fish on the end of my line and it’s about to get away because I haven’t set the hook.”

“That’s not too far from the truth. In fact, your Will should not be applied like a mindless, slow push. You must gather it up and then
unleash
it at the right time.”

Yan waited for her to explain. Though her words may have been clear for a magician, they were just as obscure to Yan as the Rominian alphabet.

“You will understand once you’ve succeeded,” she continued. “For now, don’t clutter your mind with the mechanics.”

The young man agreed, still unsure of himself. The subject had been closed much too soon for his liking. He still had other questions.

“The coin. I’ve looked at it so much that I have the feeling that I’m seeing it everywhere. I try to focus on it, but part of my mind is busy processing its physical characteristics.”

“Then try focusing on those characteristics. Since all you’re trying to do is make the coin fall, you can apply your Will to any place on the coin’s surface. It won’t make any difference.”

Yan pondered the idea for a few moments. Corenn was aware that she was introducing many new concepts to the young man, and from a discipline he didn’t even know existed until the day before. In doing so, she was changing the rules of her instruction.

In the past, she had always refrained from explaining the
principles
of Will before the novice had succeeded in passing the test. Her opinion had evolved with time: The principles could only help those who were already capable of succeeding. For others, they simply represented another false trail.

Yan had more questions.

“Do… it’s sort of strange to ask, but… do you need to make gestures, or anything like that? Do you need to say something?”

“It isn’t strictly necessary. But it helped one of my students in the past, so if you feel like you need to, don’t stop yourself. It’s just hard to shake the habit once you’ve learned it. That’s for you to find out.”

Corenn didn’t like giving vague answers like that, but she couldn’t be more specific. It all depended on how Yan was going to face the test. The dékades to come would be crucial.

Their conversation carried on in this way, Corenn patiently and benevolently answering the young man’s questions. Yan drank her words in, trusting her completely. Corenn saw his faith in her, which made it that much harder for her to lie to him…

Yan would never pass the test. At least not in the way he imagined.

The important thing wasn’t to make the coin fall… but to try as long as possible.

If, after a few dékades, Yan was still just as motivated, Corenn would teach him how to use his Will. If he gave up, she would
assume he didn’t have the power. He could only blame any failure on himself.

The magician had lied to him.
Everyone
had the ability. Everyone was a
potential
magician. But only patient and determined individuals could understand, develop, and master the ability. The test was merely a battle against one’s own nonchalance.

Even so, it wasn’t that simple. Everyone knew how to draw, shape clay, or hum, but only a few would become great painters, sculptors, or musicians. The same went for Will. Everyone had the power, several individuals had the necessary patience to learn it, but only a few elite were truly artists.

The reason Corenn offered to teach Yan was because he had already proved his art by saving Léti from a fatal fall.

With all her heart, she hoped he would have the patience.

They stopped their conversation at the first sound of footsteps on the staircase. It was odd for Léti’s fighting lesson to be over already. No one said a word. Something must have happened.

Corenn rushed toward them, faster than she would have wanted to let her friends see. Her gaze immediately fell to the reddened cloth that her niece was pressing to her right hand. And then she did what no one there had seen her do yet. She grew furious. “There you have it! This was bound to happen! I hope you’re happy!”

She put almost all the blame on Grigán. The touchy warrior fled her stare without responding. He understood her reaction, but it was the first time they had fought. He, who did his best to be indifferent, had been wounded to his very core.

“It’s fine. No big deal,” Léti said, nonchalantly.

Corenn’s anger fell away as soon as she spoke. She had reacted as if Léti were nothing more than a child, unjustly wounded, a little girl she needed to protect and comfort. Her niece’s controlled, mature attitude briefly set her off balance.

“At least, I hope it taught you a lesson,” she commented, anxiously waiting for their response.

Neither Léti nor Grigán spoke. Rey timidly came to the rescue.

“You know, Corenn, it was just an accident. If Léti can learn how to defend herself, that should sooner reassure you…”

“An accident! And if the next time she loses an eye, what will we call that? A misfortune?”

Léti could no longer hide her irritation.

“And if the Züu stick a dagger in my stomach without me having the ability to defend myself? A regrettable tragedy?”

Corenn gaped at Léti. That was a low blow.

“I’ve had enough of depending on others,” Léti continued, a little calmer. “I want to have a chance at survival, even when there’s no one there to protect me. If we’re attacked again, I want to be able to help Grigán, Rey, and all the others who fight for me. I’ll learn by experience if I have to.”

Corenn searched the warrior’s eyes to read his opinion. She didn’t know what to do anymore.

“She gave me the same lecture outside,” he mumbled.

The Mother paced about to give herself some time to think. At the Council of the Matriarchy, she made decisions that affected entire communities, but she couldn’t even reason with her own niece. The irony!

“All right. So you’ve already decided that you will fight, no matter what; no matter what we think?”

“Yes.”

“Evidently. I suppose in that case, the best course of action would be for Grigán to give you some advice. That is, if he agrees, naturally.”

“With pleasure,” the warrior announced, happy to get himself out of trouble so easily.

“Nevertheless, I would like you to do something for me, Léti. Don’t mix yourself up in any real combat until Grigán judges you’re ready.”

The young woman pretended to think about it, but accepted the condition to make her aunt happy and end this difficult conversation. For once, she had won the match and would leave the discussion a victor.

She didn’t see the knowing smile exchanged between Grigán and Corenn.

One of Raji’s suppliers paid him a visit just before nightfall, leading three packhorses loaded with fabric from Phar. Raji hurriedly stashed away this potential fortune maker in the secrecy of his warehouse, hoping with all his heart that his guests would be discreet.

He hadn’t accounted for Grigán’s almost morbid mistrust of anyone new. The warrior walked up and stood in front of the new arrival, his most fierce look fixed squarely on his face. The warning was clear. The merchant from the Baronies didn’t comment and hastened to leave the small farmhouse. Whatever these hideaways had done, he didn’t want to know. He was certain, though, that he didn’t want them to cause him any trouble.

“It’s already rude enough of you to force me to house you, but to kill my business too…” Raji said, not speaking to anyone but himself. Grigán didn’t raise any objections to the remark. This whiny, corrupt smuggler had no sympathy from him. When he thought about it, an image of Rey flashing in his mind, all Loreliens were more or less unlikable people.

He locked the trapdoor that separated them from the stable as the heirs settled in for their second night in the warehouse. After the third, they would go meet the Züu.

They ate their dinner outside, sitting in Raji’s courtyard, despite his protests and stern refusal to join them. When they finished, they returned to the shelter provided by the secret cellar.

Despite their fatigue, and their recent sleepless night, they all agreed it was much too early to go to sleep. Bowbaq was especially restless as he had spent his whole day doing just that. In the cellar he announced to the heirs that he had perfectly recovered, even though he periodically winced in pain while he spoke.

They all wanted to converse. Each one of them had some story to tell or wanted to get the opinion of the others. There was much to discuss: the coming encounter with the Züu, their uncertain future, the identity of their enemy. But above all else, the mystery of the island loomed large in their minds.