The Talented Read online

  “Fine,” Ben said, though it was clear to Adrienne that she had not heard the last of his complaints. “The first step is figuring out the limits of your power.”

  Adrienne nodded, knowing that such a priority was two-fold in her case. The commission had tested the limits of every new Talent developed in Kessering, but she sensed that the commission wanted to know as soon as possible how potentially destructive her Talent could be.

  “You were angry last time. Do you think it is necessary for you to be angry to use your ability?” Ben asked.

  That possibility had never occurred to Adrienne, and it was one that might have worried her had she not already known the answer. “I don’t think so,” she said, not wanting to reveal that she had just spent an hour experimenting with her Talent.

  “Good,” Ben said, seeming genuinely pleased for the first time since Adrienne had discovered her Talent with fire. “Let’s see what you can do.”

  Adrienne repeated the exercise with the candle that she had performed for Louella, pleased that Ben seemed impressed by what she was able to do. It seemed that for the moment the scholar in him was stronger than the commissioner, and that he had put aside his personal feelings. Whatever disappointment he felt for her as her teacher was outweighed by his eagerness to see what else she could do with her Talent.

  “Do you have another candle in here?” Ben asked.

  Adrienne stood up and got the candle from atop the mantle, setting it across from the other candle on the small table her room offered. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want to see if you can light the candle.”

  Adrienne knew this was a real test of her Talent, and she concentrated hard on the cold wick. The already burning flame from the candle beside it beckoned her, and she knew without trying that she could transfer the first flame to the second candle without difficulty. But that was not what she wanted to do. She needed to know if she could start a fire from nothing.

  She stared at the wick for a long time with no result. She could feel no fire there, and was nearly ready to give up when she became aware of her surroundings in a new way. She did not focus on the nearby beckoning candle, but on everything else: the heat in the air, the last rays of the afternoon sun, the energy emanating from her and Ben. With supreme effort she pulled them all together, focused them all into the wick, and the candle lit.

  “You did it,” Ben said with surprise. “It took nearly an hour, but…you did it!”

  Adrienne had not realized how long she had been at it, but she knew that she would be able to light the candle much quicker next time. “I want to do it again,” she told Ben eagerly, leaning forward to blow out the candle she had just lit.

  “Tomorrow,” Ben told her, but his smile was filled with understanding.

  Adrienne thought about arguing, but the memory that the commission already viewed her as being disobedient stopped her. Besides, she was tired from working with her Talent, first with Louella and then with Ben. It seemed that although using her Talent was a mental process, the effects were physical. “What time?”

  “Noon should be soon enough,” Ben said. “Make sure to eat before I get here.”

  “Of course,” Adrienne said. The meals Adrienne got at the inn were considerably better when Ben ate with her, but after speaking with the cook and several of the maids over the course of the last two months, she had finally stopped getting meals that looked as though they belonged in a pig trough. She thought that the cook might almost like her by now.

  Ben left, and Adrienne stripped out of her swa’il, leaving her in only her skin. She blew out the two lit candles and slipped into bed, falling almost instantly asleep.

  ••••••

  Adrienne sat at a table placed in one of the corners of Louella’s shop. Her friend was dusting the room, but Adrienne hardly noticed her. She was too intent on trying to form balls of fire in her hand.

  The tales spoke of people being able to hurl fire the way others threw balls of leather, but her efforts on that front grew increasingly frustrating. Adrienne knew that fire would be a tremendous weapon if she was able to throw it, but she was having trouble forming a fireball at all, let alone being able to throw one. Lighting candles was easy and seemed natural to her now, but sustaining a fire off of nothing but willpower was a different story altogether. Adrienne could barely get a fireball bigger than a slingshot pebble to form before it winked out of existence, unable or unwilling to burn without fodder.

  But the tales Adrienne had heard from Tam and Ben, as well as the accounts in Asmov’s journal, said hurling fireballs was possible, and Adrienne was determined to keep trying until she could do so. She was in Kessering to become a weapon, though the commission might deny it, and a weapon she would become.

  She looked up briefly when someone entered the room and saw a middle-aged woman standing just inside the door. The woman was holding one arm still with the other, and Adrienne thought perhaps she had broken or sprained it. Since the woman did not appear to be a threat, Adrienne went back to working with fireballs, leaving the woman in Louella’s capable hands.

  Louella ushered the woman into a chair, asking in a low voice what had happened. Their voices were no more than murmurs, but Adrienne could imagine what was being said. Louella would ask for the woman to tell her what had happened to her arm, and the injured woman would confide the story, likely receiving as much comfort from Louella’s soft words as she would from her Talent. The healer was good with people, and would ask other things, things about family and friends, things that Adrienne would never think to ask about, to put the injured woman at ease before she got to work. It was Louella’s way.

  She focused again on forming a fireball and attempted to ignore Louella and the woman. It was harder than it should have been to ignore them; being in a state of Oneness meant Adrienne was acutely aware of their presence, and she could sense every time the woman looked over at her.

  Although Adrienne was aware of the woman’s pain through the connection Oneness forged, it was easy to block out. What she did have trouble blocking were the mounting nerves that arose in the injured woman with every sideways glance in Adrienne’s direction.

  Finally, Louella stood up and came over to Adrienne. She had her small hands fisted on her narrow hips, and looked as disapproving as anyone with such a delicate face could look. “Adrienne, do you think you can stop that for just a few minutes?” Louella asked.

  Adrienne raised one dark eyebrow in a questioning arch. “Stop what?”

  “Stop with the fire,” Louella said. “You’re scaring that woman.”

  Adrienne looked over at the woman, and the woman looked away quickly. Fearfully. “Oh.”

  “I’m having trouble convincing her to stay,” Louella said, her temper sounding sharper than Adrienne had expected. “Now stop with the fire until I mend her arm.”

  Adrienne nodded and let the glimmer of a flame that was wavering weakly in her palm die out. “Fine.”

  The woman relaxed when Adrienne’s fire did not reappear after Louella returned to her side. Mending the woman’s arm was quick work once Louella received some cooperation, and when the woman left with her arm and a variety of small, unnoticed aches and pains healed, Adrienne resumed trying to cultivate her Talent.

  She refused to feel guilty for scaring the woman. If her Talent, like the fact that she was a soldier, scared people, that was their problem. Even Louella’s big blue eyes could not convince her otherwise.

  ••••••

  After tossing and turning in bed for what seemed like hours, Adrienne gave up on the thought of sleep and got dressed. She hesitated over her swa’il, thinking of the blouse and trousers Louella had convinced her to buy after Adrienne had adamantly refused to buy a dress. Women did not wear trousers, Louella had insisted, but Adrienne had finally convinced Louella that even the tightest trousers would be more modest than her swa’il, though Adrienne found nothing provocative about the leather outfit she usually wore.<
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  Maybe if she showed up at Louella’s dressed in the outfit Louella had chosen for her, the healer would be less displeased by the late-night visit.

  She dressed quickly and made her way through the dark streets to the healer’s shop. She went around to the back door and knocked softly so as not to wake Louella if the other woman was already sleeping.

  “Adrienne,” Louella said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted.

  “Come in, come in,” Louella said, stepping back so that Adrienne could enter.

  “I’m sorry it’s so late,” Adrienne apologized.

  “I’m glad you stopped by,” Louella said, setting a cup full of tea in front of Adrienne before going around the table to sit in her own chair. She took a sip of tea from her own cup and sat back with a sigh. “Have you been busy? I haven’t seen you for days.”

  Adrienne shrugged. “Busy enough. I’ve been trying to work on those bloody fireballs…” She shook her head angrily. “Ben says to keep trying, but the practice doesn’t seem to help much.”

  Adrienne was sick of working with fireballs. She had grown better at forming them, and could sustain a small ball of light above her palm without too much difficulty now, but throwing the balls still seemed all but impossible.

  Her research in the library was no less frustrating, and something that she still hadn’t confided in her friend. She saw no point in telling Louella about the hours spent in the library until she understood more of what she was reading herself. For now, Louella could think that all of her frustration was from working with her Talent.

  Louella smiled around the rim of her teacup. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but have you considered that your Talent might not develop that way?”

  Adrienne scowled. “My Talent is working with fire. In the stories—”

  “My Talent is healing, but I’m no good when it comes to illnesses,” Louella said reasonably. “In the stories those who could heal seemed to be able to heal everything from a flu to broken bones to stab wounds, but I cannot. Maureen can take care of sicknesses, but it is much more difficult for her to stop a cut from bleeding, whereas for me it’s the opposite. It’s all I can do to break a mild fever.”

  “That’s different,” Adrienne muttered.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m the only one who can use fire,” Adrienne said. “I’m the only one with a Talent like this, and I should be able to do what the stories say.”

  “Maureen was the only one, for awhile. Just because you are the only one now doesn’t mean no one else will develop your Talent. Perhaps they will be able to throw fire. You must discover what you can do.” Adrienne didn’t respond, and Louella seemed to realize that the soldier was not in the mood to be reasonable. about the limitations of her Talent. “What else have you been doing? You can’t be spending all of your time practicing with fire.”

  “I’m trying to work on my soldiering skills as much as I can without a partner to practice with,” Adrienne told her. It was the truth, if not the whole truth. She did spend a portion of each day training. “I wish there was someone here that I could spar with, but even running through the forms is helpful.”

  Louella made a sound that could have meant anything, and Adrienne smiled. “And you couldn’t care less about sword practice.”

  “No more than you care about herbs,” Louella agreed placidly. “That doesn’t stop me from talking about them.”

  Adrienne tried to think of what she did during her days that might interest her friend. “I’ve been taking Strider, my horse, out for a few hours each day. He needs training as well.”

  “What sorts of things do you train him for?” Louella asked.

  “He’s a destrier—a horse specifically trained for battle—and that kind of work requires skills other horses don’t have.”

  “I guess he’s like a soldier of the horse world,” Louella said. “Before you came here, I never thought much about what it takes to make a soldier.” She had watched, and even attempted, Adrienne’s meditative routines, but she had never once watched Adrienne practice with her sword.

  “It takes more than a sword.” Adrienne’s hand traveled to the Talent-forged sword at her hip, but her thoughts were on the commission.

  “It must be a complex skill,” Louella said. “You wouldn’t have been able to develop a Talent otherwise.”

  Adrienne smirked. “I’m glad at least one person sees that.”

  Louella’s blue eyes clouded. “Maybe I should have said something earlier.”

  Adrienne knew her friend did not mind the soldiering profession the way most in Kessering did, but Adrienne was not foolish enough to think that Louella was completely comfortable with the reality of it.

  Louella’s interest in Strider was less complicated.

  “A destrier needs to have absolute trust in his rider,” Adrienne explained, switching back to the more comfortable topic of her horse. “He needs to be able to pull back, to switch off leads, to turn on his hindquarters when the soldier demands it, without hesitating.”

  “Why?”

  “Battle is a loud and confusing place. A stallion like Strider can become caught up in the energy of it, and he needs to listen and trust absolutely the direction he is given by the soldier riding him. And the soldier needs to know that her horse is going to move when and how he’s told, or the soldier won’t be able to plan her next block or parry.”

  “It sounds dangerous,” Louella said.

  Adrienne thought that Louella seemed more concerned for the horse than the rider in this instance, and her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “It can be, even when horse and rider make a perfect team.”

  “Is it fair for the horse, do you think?”

  Adrienne had never thought of it that way. Horses like Strider were chosen and trained from a young age. But then, Adrienne had been placed in a similar situation herself. “A horse has to show a certain temperament to be trained. Mild-mannered horses aren’t taken to war.”

  “But it still wasn’t the horse’s choice.”

  With another person, Adrienne might have gotten mad at the comment, but moral debates with Louella were interesting, not upsetting. “Many men are drafted into war against their will. Some of those men don’t last long—mentally, I mean. Some horses, either. Strider has a few physical scars from former battles, but mentally I would say he is as healthy as any horse. There aren’t many horses of Strider’s ilk, and he would be invaluable to a soldier on campaign.”

  “But you have him sitting in a stall in Kessering instead,” Louella mused. “A bit of a waste, if he’s as special as you say.”

  “He was a gift from my captain when I left Kyrog to come here,” Adrienne told her.

  Louella’s blonde eyebrows pulled together in a frown as she considered this. “If a horse like Strider is so valuable, why were you…that is…you must have been very well thought of,” Louella finally said.

  “Yes.” Adrienne looked down at the empty cup of tea in front of her, lost in thought until Louella took her hand.

  “I’ve upset you. I didn’t mean I thought you weren’t well thought of before,” she said. “It’s just that if you were given such a gift, you must have really been special back at the camp.” She let go of Adrienne’s hand and leaned back in her chair, clearly frustrated. “I’m saying all of this wrong.”

  “It’s not you,” Adrienne said, meeting Louella’s worried blue eyes. “I’m just thinking of Kyrog. Of home. I miss it.”

  “I’m sorry. I forget sometimes that you left people behind. I’m not used to dealing with homesickness.”

  “It’s not just the people,” Adrienne said, though much of it was. “In Kyrog I am regarded as a skilled soldier.” She thought of the hours of hard work she had put in over the years. Of sweating through her leathers under the harsh sun of the dry season, and enduring the wet months that turned the dry ground to mud that sucked at her boots and made e
very step an effort. She did it all, practiced until muscles and bones went weak with weariness and pain, practiced until she was one of the best. Until no one looked at her and saw a mere woman, or worse, a girl whose father had given her away. “Skills count for a lot among soldiers. And I was a lieutenant—a leader—in Kyrog.”

  “They must have lost a lot when you left,” Louella said, as if it was a revelation. “I never realized…I’ve spent almost my whole life in Kessering. My father moved here after my mother died, when I was just a year old. I guess I don’t think about life outside of Kessering as life, really. But Kyrog was your home, wasn’t it, like Kessering is mine?”

  The sympathy in Louella’s voice nearly undid Adrienne, and she had to look away from the compassion she saw on her friend’s face. “I had friends there,” Adrienne said, her eyes losing focus as she saw not the wall in front of her, but a camp many miles and memories away. “Ricco, he was a fellow soldier. And Jeral. I was training Jeral, and had been for nine months, before I left.”

  “When I was getting to know you,” Louella said, “I always just thought about what a great opportunity this was for you. You got to come here, to Kessering, and develop a Talent. I never thought about what you had to give up.”

  Adrienne pulled herself out of the past and took another sip of her tea, only to find that the cup was empty. “I had to leave a lot behind,” Adrienne said, her hand slipping up and stroking the cord around her neck without conscious thought. She wondered not for the first time if she would ever get back what she had left in Kyrog. She wondered if Ricco and Jeral would be waiting for her back in the camp, or if they would be gone, possibly forever. She might have already lost two of her closest friends.

  “I’m sorry.” Louella forced a smile and grasped desperately for a new topic. “I’ve noticed the necklace you wear, but I’ve never seen the pendant. Can I have a closer look?”