Ranvir sat with Frija and Vasso in the meditation chamber. It was odd having a meditation chamber. It was kinda nice having a meditation chamber. It was also a little distracting to have a meditation chamber. Somehow, having a meditation chamber made it harder to meditate.
Ranvir peeked through his eyelids, glancing at the children. Vasso sat dutifully, eyes closed, legs crossed. He was breathing slowly and evenly, hands resting limply below his navel.
Even though the kid lacked access to mana, he was still practicing the technique dutifully. Ranvir could feel minute, almost imperceptible changes in his spirit. They’d fade soon after stopping, but a remnant of their change would stick around. Without access to mana, directly training his spirit was a tougher and longer road than with it. However, Ranvir knew now that a solid Fundament would improve Vasso’s potential in the long term.
Frija also sat cross-legged. Though, she was peeking from the corner of her eye, glancing at the kitten laying on its back next to her. One hand rested in her lap, the other had somehow snaked its way onto Menace’s stomach.
Ranvir shifted and grunted, causing her to snap her hands back into her lap and ‘continue’ her meditation. Soon, though, she was glancing back at Menace and sneaking little pets. That was fine, however. Frija was too young for much dedicated practice. At least she was too young to be forced into prolonged sessions. Though Ranvir demanded her attention for the first five minutes.
She was happy to oblige. Her youthful mind just struggled to keep her attention on one thing for ten minutes, let alone an entire hour. They were approaching the final five minutes. Ranvir coughed into his hand. “Five more minutes, Frija.”
She snapped back into posture, moving fast enough that Menace actually startled a little. Rolling onto its paws, the kitten strutted its way across the floor to rub itself against Ranvir once, before heading over and plumping itself directly across Vasso’s lap.
The boy did his best to ignore the cat’s bid for attention, though Ranvir detected fur shifting as Menace got some discreet scratches. Vasso stopped once Menace began purring loud enough for the bird outside to hear it. Cawing once, Vulture flapped its wings and took to the skies.
As it always did, the bird had sought him out, even if a window separated them, once he began meditating. It was like Vulture was called to him anytime he worked the bond. Ranvir’d snuck off to Belnavir once, while the children were asleep for a couple hours to get a judge of their local bonds.
People in the last months of bonding began developing a well inside them, where they would take their animal’s power into them. Not all bonds were equal either. Time together, especially working together, increased the depth of the bond. Slightly more power came through.
Through control of his own soul, Ranvir found he could provoke a similar reaction through meditation. In fact, it was minute-to-minute more effective than any of the locals practice. Other than bonding through hardships.
The tightest bond Ranvir’d found was a boy and a rat. They’d been living on the street, and though the animal was weak, their connection was not. Unlike anyone else, the boy was already using the rat’s shadow mana. It wasn’t a lot, but when even Ranvir could only use a minor amount of Vulture’s massive mana pool, a kid tapping into any portion of the rat’s power was impressive.
Fortunately, Ranvir wasn’t rife with strife at the moment. In fact, things had been going well. So he resorted to many meditation sessions. They helped greatly. Their bond was deeper and stronger, more mana and emotions flowed between them.
Someone knocked on the door. Blinking, Ranvir stirred and looked up. Menace glanced at him before continuing to ply Vasso for scratches. It didn’t appear the kids heard the sound of knuckle on wood.
Stretching forth his tether-sense, Ranvir frowned. Gritting his teeth, a flash of the dark bedroom painted itself in his mind. Trapped beneath a thin cloth as the world passed him by, Frija crying for help he couldn’t provide.
“Session’s over,” Ranvir said, standing up. Inhaling deeply, he spoke again, attempting to be more gentle. “You did well,” he had only middling results.
Striding out of the room, he made his way to the front door. Menace following on his heels, Frija behind him. Ranvir opened the door, cane falling to the floor, pushed by the wind of the door. “Pashar.”
“Ranvir,” Pashar said. She looked much the same as she’d always had. Darker in the skin, resembling the ankirian visitors. She’d adopted the local practice of clothes, wearing a skirt and sandals. She would always look weird out of uniform. Her dark hair was tied into a bun at the nape of her neck. She glanced at Frija standing behind Ranvir.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“Hello,” the kid muttered, squeezing between his leg and the doorframe. She ran right past Pashar and into the forest, Menace loping after.
Behind him, Ranvir sensed Vasso pausing in the hallway to look at them.
“Can we talk?” Pashar asked.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Ranvir said, glancing behind her to see Frija and Menace playing just close enough that they could spy on them.
“I want to apologize for what I said,” Pashar cleared her throat. “Maybe I could explain…” she waved a hand in the air. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right, this is a bad idea,” she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “I want to explain myself. Not as an excuse, but only to broaden your understanding,” she looked at him with a weird expression, perturbed perhaps. “If we, if you, ever return to Vednar, you should at least understand. It could become important.”
Ranvir sighed and looked behind him. Vasso looked on curiously. Rubbing his chin, he looked over Pashar’s shoulder to Frija and Menace, surreptitiously watching them as well. He nodded to the stones he used to sit on before the house had been built. “Fine,” he said in Elensk.
Pashar nodded. They sat opposite each other, and Pashar ran a hand over her hair. She fidgeted awkwardly. The sight was off-putting. Nauseous, toxic green and gray clouds roiled within Ranvir, ill feelings from his time trapped by his sickness with only a single hope left.
Ranvir had slipped getting out of the bath. That was when he’d first started using the cane that even now was lying in the entryway. She’d thought him pathetic.
“I’m sorry, Ranvir,” Pashar said in Elensk, her voice quiet. She wouldn’t have been heard if anyone else sat opposite her. Looking down in her lap, she cradled her hands together, rubbing one thumb against her palm. “When Saif was training me, he taught me to see people in terms of pros and cons. Resources and weaknesses. I… I didn’t realize at the time how wrong that was. Is. How wrong that is. I shouldn’t have pushed against you like I did. I needed you to survive long enough for Kasos to get here, so I put fire to your feet. No matter what it did to you.”
Ranvir swallowed and looked down as well. He felt dizzy, like the world was slipping apart. For a moment, he could feel the cane under his hand. The weight of his emaciated body pressing against the handle as he tried to get up. A thick, black, gray, and green mass of vitriol stirred in his stomach.
“During my ‘second-year’ exam,” Pashar continued. “Saif gave me a set of ratty clothes and told me to come back with five gold coins…”
----------------------------------------
Pashar stood in the foreign city as Saif shut the door on her. She stared at the door for a long moment, willing it to open again. For her Master to step out with a big smile on his face and joke with her. Tell her it was all a joke. He wouldn’t actually abandon a fifteen-year-old in a foreign city.
“No powers,” she whispered to herself. Her chin quivered and tears threatened to spill over.
“Control yourself. You can only lose if people know how you are feeling.”
Her master’s words echoed in her mind. She’d been training for two years with Master Saif. He had mastered all three Disciplines and the art of spycraft and he’d chosen her. Toughening up her chin, Pashar strode into the foreign city.
She needed coins, so she needed the market. Which way to the market? The sun was high in the sky, threatening to broil the skin off her bones. It also meant none of the prayers were on at the moment. The sisters only required their gratitude in the morning and evening. So the flood of people must be heading toward the market. She just needed to follow the crowd.
As she walked, her crowd joining an even bigger mass. Like tributaries running into a river, she flowed over the riverbeds of the city into larger and larger streams. Then into a lake. The crowd dispersed in every direction. Guardsmen and women patrolled the stalls as merchants hawked their wares.
Scanning the crowds, Pashar found a stone building at the square’s bank. A two-story affair with an awning protecting potential customers from the heat as they browsed through clothes. She’d barely watched it for a couple minutes before she saw two rich looking people leave the store and a third enter it.
The silken tassels, finery, and gold trim further proclaimed the valuable nature of the store. Prowling closer, Pashar thought up a plan. She’d need the merchant to trust her a little so she could get at his valuables. Likely, he kept some in a safe behind the counter, but most safes weren’t that hard to pick, they just made it too difficult to get at the goods easily.
She snatched a bit of copper wire from one stall as she passed, then a small copper hair clip from another. With a grunt and a twist, she ripped the pretty part off, leaving only a quarter inch thick piece of copper.
Licking her lips, she approached the store, stuffing her new tools into her pockets. As she got under the shade of the awning, a person revealed itself from the shadows of the store. A girl, not much younger than Pashar herself, hair loose and down to her waist. She was dressed as finely as any of the store’s customers.
“Father?” she called, seeing Pashar.
Preparing herself, Pashar fiddling with the hem of her shirt and made her eyes wide. The teenager’s father came running out, a slightly overweight man with long, nimble fingers. He shot one look at Pashar.
“Out!” he hollered.
Backing up, Pashar’s eyes widened naturally at his outburst.
“Out! We do not want your kind in our store! Out!” he shoved, sending her sprawling onto her back in the sand, yellow and black particles rising from the dirt as she scrambled away. The merchant vainly kicked after her.
“Please, sir!” she said, needing no help to sound desperate. “Please, I just nee-“
“Guards!” the man cried. “Get her out of here.”
A firm hand grabbed Pashar under the shoulder and dragged her away. “No! Wait, I’m just practicing. This is a test!”
“And I’m the Sun King reborn!” the guard laughed. She barely glimpsed where he was taking her before she was thrown. She struck the pile of garbage face first. The sun flashes brightly for a moment, before nausea took over. She hit something on the way down, creating a new bright flash fading to darkness.