Felitïa breathed in deeply, letting the damp air fill her lungs. She kept her eyes closed, letting the darkness calm her thoughts. Then she breathed out again, maintaining the calm in her mind, emptying it of worries, desires, and the things that made her happy or excited. She pushed away the physical sensations of the rough ground, her hair against her neck as it blew in the wind, and her clothes against her skin. Only the gentle sound of waves washing up on the shore remained, but then she pushed those aside, too.

A room formed in her mind. It was circular, about six feet in diameter. There was no roof overhead, but the plain black walls rose as far as her mind’s eye could see, perhaps forever. The room was empty, just like her mind. She couldn’t even see herself. She had no physical substance or appearance here.

She breathed in again, and out.

The room wasn’t empty anymore. That wasn’t right.

Her father was there. And her younger brother Thilin. She wondered about them from time to time, how they had reacted to discovering she was gone, what they had thought of her. Cerus and Garet were there now, too, materialising as she thought of them. And Malef, Gabriella, Pastrin. Sinitïa, barely more than a baby when Felitïa had left, appeared in her father’s arms. Gods, even Annai was there. At least her mother wasn’t... No, there she was, too.

Felitïa sighed, and the room in her mind crumbled away. The sound of the waves returned, and the feel of the rocks and the wind.

She had found herself thinking a lot about her family in the months since Zandrue’s arrival, though she wasn’t sure why. Things were so much better with Elderaan. In the palace, she had always been bored. Nowadays, she never was—well, very rarely, at any rate, and when she was bored, it was usually for silly reasons. She was happy in Quorge with Elderaan.

But she did find herself missing Ardon now and then. And her father and Thilin. But none of the others. She had never missed the others. And she never would.

Was that childish of her?

She suspected Elderaan thought so, though he had never said so. It didn’t matter though. It had been six years since she had last seen her family. She had another life now. A better life.

“So, anything going to happen?”

Zandrue’s voice startled her. Gods, she really needed to learn better concentration. “Sorry,” Felitïa said. “Just gathering my thoughts.”

“Fine,” Zandrue replied. “Just give me a moment to move then, since now you know where I am.”

Felitïa kept her eyes closed and breathed in again, then out. She pushed her thoughts away and let the circular room in her mind’s eye reform. The black walls rose to infinity, and this time the room was truly empty. Her own thoughts did not invade it.

She let things stay like that for a few moments. Nothing changed.

Then she pushed the walls out a little farther until the diameter reached about ten feet. She paused and pushed back thoughts and memories that threatened to seep through the walls.

Something flickered to what her mind interpreted as her right. Boredom and impatience appeared by the wall. Neither really had an appearance she could describe—just a sensation—but they were there. And just a speck of worry and fear behind them. Felitïa wondered what they were doing there.

Without opening her eyes, she raised her arm and pointed. “There. About ten feet back.”

Zandrue laughed from right in front of her, and the room fell apart again.

Felitïa opened her eyes. Zandrue sat cross-legged not two feet in front of her, a grin on her face.

“I don’t think you could have been any more wrong than that.” Zandrue laughed.

Felitïa sighed. “I don’t get it. You were by the wall ten feet over. I could have sworn it.”

Zandrue looked to Felitïa’s right with raised eyebrows. “Felitïa, there isn’t a wall ten feet over. The closest wall is about half a mile away.”

“No, I mean in my head,” Felitïa said. “I’ve created this sort of room. When I clear my thoughts and focus on it, I can create it. The walls represent how far out I’m currently sensing. I think. I can push the walls out or pull them back in. Sort of. It’s hard to explain. I don’t really understand it myself.”

“And you thought you saw me ten feet to your right,” Zandrue said.

“Well, not really saw. More like felt. But yeah, basically. I guess.”

Felitïa stood up and walked along the beach to, as best she could tell—this was more instinct than anything—the spot that roughly corresponded to where she thought she had felt Zandrue. There was nothing there but more sand and stones. “Are you sure you didn’t just move after I pointed you out?” She turned back to face Zandrue.

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Zandrue replied. “Then I ran back over here, sat down, and laughed, all in a split second. I’m really that fast, don’t you know.”

“Very funny.” Felitïa turned back around and gazed at the docks of Quorge in the distance. “Maybe my mind just doesn’t know how to interpret the information it’s receiving. After all, I’m not really seeing a room in my head. It’s just my mind trying to visualise something that isn’t actually visual.”

“If you say so,” Zandrue said.

“The distances I think I see in my head may have nothing to do with actual distances,” Felitïa went on, more for her own benefit than for Zandrue’s. “Same with directions.” She frowned. “Of course, that just makes things a lot more difficult. How am I supposed to master this ability like that?”

“Beats me.” Zandrue came up beside her. “But I’d rather not sit here while you try to figure it out.”

“I thought you agreed that this is a relaxing place,” Felitïa said.

“It is. For talking, target practice, sword-fighting practice, you know, doing things. Not for sitting around waiting for you to do something.”

“You said you’d help me.”

Zandrue nodded. “I know. I did. And I will. I’m just bored. You can’t make it any more interesting?” She picked up a stone and threw it into the water.

Felitïa shrugged. “I don’t really know. There’s so much I don’t know about my abilities. They defy every attempt I make to learn about them.”

“Nothing in all those books in the Hall of Knowledge?”

Felitïa shook her head. “Not that I can find.”

“Doesn’t really surprise me.” Zandrue picked up another stone off the ground. “When we were in there the other day, I looked through a few of the books. One of them was called On the Structure of Human Hair or something like that. What the hell does anyone need a book like that for?” She tossed the stone into the water. The sense of worry Felitïa had detected earlier was getting stronger, now mixed with nervousness and anxiety.

“Well, for certain magical disciplines, it’s good to know lots about the body.” That was just a guess.

“Yeah, sure. Look, let’s just get on with things. Go sit down, close your eyes, and I’ll find a spot.”

“Are you okay, Zandrue? You’re on edge.”

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Zandrue shrugged and fiddled with the latest stone she’d picked up. “I’m just not sure how comfortable I am with you poking around in my head.”

“I’m not doing that,” Felitïa replied. “That’s way beyond my abilities, but I wouldn’t do it if I could. I’m just picking up what you send out.”

Zandrue tossed the stone aside. “I’m not sure I like the implications of that either. I don’t like the idea that I’m sending out thoughts to anyone with the ability to pick them up.”

“It’s not really like that, either,” Felitïa said. “At least, not exactly. It’s complicated.”

“Whatever, I’ve been around you for several months now and nothing bad’s happened. This just kind of drew my attention to it, I guess. Anyway, why don’t we continue?”

Felitïa sat on the beach again. She closed her eyes and waited while she gave Zandrue a chance to pick a spot. She wasn’t convinced Zandrue had been fully open about her anxieties, but getting Zandrue to talk even a little was a small victory. And Zandrue seemed calmer now; Felitïa wasn’t receiving any more worry from her, at any rate. In fact, she was starting to receive some anticipation now—and amusement. What was she so amused by?

Cold water hit the top of her head and ran down her face, her ears, the back of her neck. Felitïa’s eyes shot open to see Zandrue standing in front of her holding an empty but dripping sack. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.” She darted off laughing before Felitïa could react.

Felitïa wiped her forehead and eyes, and couldn’t help but laugh as well. Looked like these exercises were not going to get anywhere today. She stood up and chased after Zandrue.

* * * * *

“Gods, I hate this place.”

Felitïa smirked, but hid her face in the book she’d just grabbed so Zandrue couldn’t see. “You say that every time we’re here.” To be fair, the stacks of the Hall of Knowledge were not the most exciting place to be.

Zandrue leaned her head against a shelf. “That would be because it’s awful. It’s cold. There are no chairs. The floor is cold and hard so you can’t sit comfortably on it. Gods forbid I should want to lie down.” She banged her head lightly against the shelf. “And it’s so boring! Did I mention it’s cold?”

Felitïa closed the book. “You don’t have to come with me, you know. Not anymore.” Elderaan had decided he trusted Zandrue enough now that she no longer had to stay in Felitïa’s sight at all times.

“And what else am I supposed to do? I can’t wander the city alone or Almais will have my head.”

“Like I believe you’re not capable of avoiding Almais,” Felitïa said.

Zandrue snorted and leaned against the stack. “Yeah, I suppose I could do that, but that still leaves the question of what else I’m supposed to do.”

Felitïa held the book out. “You could read this book for me.”

Zandrue smirked. “Are you trying to tell me I won’t be bored reading that book? Because if you are, that’s bullshit.”

Felitïa rolled her eyes.

“Fine.” Zandrue snatched the book. “Meditation practices. How exciting.”

Felitïa stuck her tongue out at her.

Zandrue began flipping through the book. “What am I looking for this time?”

“Honestly, I’m not entirely sure.”

“You never are. Some guidance?”

“I had this thought,” Felitïa began. “The incantations we speak when we cast a spell are important, but mostly to help focus the mind, right?”

Zandrue shrugged. “You tell me. You’re the wizard.”

“Well, they are. Anyway, meditation also frequently uses chants and other sounds to help you keep focus. I thought maybe I could adapt that in some way with my telepathy. Maybe it could help focus my telepathic mind somehow.”

“So you want me to find chants and stuff?”

Felitïa nodded. “Something like that.”

Zandrue shrugged. “Okay, but if I fall asleep on page two, it’s...” Fear shot from her and pummelled into Felitïa. Then it stopped.

“Zandrue?”

Zandrue was standing still, and the book was sliding from her fingers. The fear started again, this time dull but rising.

“Zandrue, what’s wrong?”

Zandrue caught the book just before it fell, and looked at Felitïa. “There you go again. Reading my mind.” The fear was still increasing.

“I’m sorry. You know I can’t help it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You’re afraid again, Zandrue. The same fears you never talk about, and you probably won’t talk about them now, but I just want to help. They spring up in you so suddenly with no warning. I worry about you, you know.”

Zandrue turned away from her. “Everyone has random thoughts, Felitïa, and sometimes they dredge up...” She took a deep breath.

“If you want to talk, you know I’m here.”

Zandrue shook her head and turned back to her. “Nothing you can help with, but thanks.” She handed the book back to Felitïa. “I need to go.”

Felitïa took the book. “Okay. I’ll see you back at the shop in a little while.”

Zandrue frowned. “No. You misunderstand. I’m not going back to the shop. I mean, I am, but only to pick up some things. Then I have to leave.” Remorse and sadness had joined Zandrue’s fear.

“Leave? I don’t think I’m following.”

Zandrue wiped a tear from her eye and forced a smile. “Leaving the city.”

“What?”

“Just for a while. I know this isn’t much notice. It kind of just came up. It’s safer this way.”

Felitïa reached for her. “I don’t understand. You’re safe here. You’ve admitted it’s working. If you leave, you’ll...”

Zandrue pulled away from her. “Trust me, it’s safer. I just have to...take care of some business.”

“Business? What business?”

“You know I can’t tell you.”

“But—”

“I can’t!”

The burst of anger made Felitïa stumble.

“I won’t be long,” Zandrue said. “A week, maybe two or three. I’m not really sure.”

“I just wish...”

“Don’t push this, Felitïa. I have my reasons, okay? But I really will come back. I promise.”

Felitïa gaped.

“Just trust me, please?”

Felitïa quivered and nodded slowly.

“I’ll let Elderaan know I’m going.”

“You might be better off not telling him,” Felitïa stuttered.

“No, better to face his anger now than when I get back. It’d be way worse that way.”

“What if he stops you? He could, you know.”

Zandrue shrugged. “He could, but I don’t think he will. He might threaten, but I don’t think he’d go through with it.”

Felitïa nodded. Zandrue was right.

“See you in a week or two.” Zandrue turned and headed for the stairs back up to the entry hall. She paused at the bottom and looked back. “I’m really sorry.” Then she climbed the stairs and was gone.

Felitïa slid to the floor between the two stacks, knocking over the small pile of books she’d gathered. She wiped the tears from her eyes and sat there shivering in the cold.