Hidden Ability (Book 1) (6 page)

Jalan tries to take in everything his mother said. It is much more than Master Hern ever mentioned. Jalan has an idea and decides to ask, “Are we pretending that what happened yesterday was because of the Ability?”

“Yes, you and I, in our secret game, can pretend that.”

Almost in a whisper, Jalan asks, “Am I going to go live in the Society?”

His mother shifts from the chair to sitting next to him on his bed. She gives him a hug and says, “Of course not, dear. You have never done anything to indicate you might have the Ability. And, because you do not have the Ability, you will never use the Ability in a way that allows anyone to discover you have it.”

Jalan is certain he understands and says, “Yes, mother,” but he is not certain how to do what she wants. He does not even know what he did the day before. How will he stop himself from doing it again?

He almost asks, but Lady Shara stands abruptly and says, “There is much of the day left and you have much to do. We can play our game more another time. Go to Mistress Dahlia and tell her I wish her to give you a light breakfast now that you are feeling better. I’m sure Captain Erida will have something for you to do after that.”

Jalan eats breakfast and goes searching for Captain Erida.

The messenger, Krenis Enmar, approaches him and says, “You’re with me.”

“What do you mean, ah, sir,” says Jalan

“I spoke with Lady Darla and Captain Erida yesterday. It was agreed that I am training you from now on.”

Jalan is not sure how he feels about that. He has trained with several people because each one was best at teaching specific things. “Are you going to teach me to be a messenger?”

Enmar roars with laughter. When he finally stops he wipes an eye and says, “I just might. I just might.” Then the man sighs deeply. “But we’ll leave that for another day. Right now I want to see you run.”

“Run? You want me to run? All right.” Jalan takes a step. Before his next footfall, Enmar snatches Jalan’s shirt collar and plucks him off the ground with one hand.

“I meant with me, boy,” says Enmar. “You run with me and we’ll see how you do.”

His new trainer sets him back on the ground. Jalan waits for Enmar to start running and then he matches the man’s pace.

Enmar follows the paved way from the estate out to the road that passes the gates. The two iron gates sit open. An armsman stands watch and ignores the runners as they pass by. Enmar turns right onto the road and Jalan stays with him.

“I can run faster than this,” says Jalan.

“It’s not about speed. It’s about distance,” says Enmar.

Δ

When they finally cross back through the gates and jog to the manor, Jalan wishes he could have sparred with Lieutenant Burk instead. He thought Enmar slowed down about half way. Not that he had any idea where half way really was. He had long since stopped thinking about how far he was running and only concentrated on keeping pace with Enmar. Lost in his exhausted haze, Jalan does not even notice where they are when Enmar stops running. He is too relieved to care. Even when Enmar pours a full bucket of well water over Jalan’s head, the boy just stands there dripping into the puddle at his feet.

Enmar strips off his shirt and sets it aside before pouring water from a fresh bucket over his own head and briefly scrubbing his face and arms with his hands. He then rinses with the remaining water and sets the empty bucket back on the edge of the low stone wall that surrounds the well.

Grabbing his shirt, Enmar starts walking. Jalan follows almost out of habit now. They walk toward the workshops. His trainer moves with an easy stroll and Jalan hobbles and squelches in his wet boots. When they reach the leather shop, Enmar discusses something to do with shoes. Jalan concentrates on standing and lets the conversation drift past him.

Ritka, the leather crafter, has Jalan sit on a stool and take off his boots. Then Ritka has Jalan put his feet on a couple of pieces of leather and inscribes marks in the leather that seem to roughly correspond to the size of Jalan’s feet. He is too tired to care why Ritka is making him new boots when the ones he has are still in good shape.

“Come along. Let’s get something to eat,” says Enmar. He looks at Jalan. “Ritka is going to want that stool back.”

Jalan accepts the hand Enmar offers and lets the man pull him to his feet.

Carrying his wet boots, Jalan trudges toward the manor’s kitchen entrance. His bare feet feel sore and swollen and he winces when he steps on a sharp stone.

“Don’t worry. Your feet will get a rest tomorrow,” says Enmar.

Δ

The next evening Jalan sits at the family dining table wondering if he can eat the soup in front of him without using his arms.

“He made you walk on your hands?” says Tomac as if it is the most outlandish thing he has ever heard.

Jalan has to admit that it might be.

Lady Shara says, “That is what your brother said, dear. Now please stop badgering Jalan about his training, unconventional as it may be.”

“Yes, mother,” says Tomac.

Across the table Vee smirks and tries to hide it by eating another spoonful of soup.

Darla breaks the silence that follows by sharing details of the new book she is reading. Vee tells everyone what she has heard about a traveling singer rumored to be performing in the district. Lady Shara asks questions about the children’s various lessons with Master Hern.

With what he considers to be a heroic effort, Jalan manages to feed himself. He asks to be excused at the meal’s end and goes to his room.

Δ

Later, after Jalan settles himself for the night, there is a tap at his door and his mother speaks from outside, “May I come in?”

Lying on his bed, his mind has been wandering on the edge of sleep. He sits up to help rouse himself and says, “Yes, mother.”

Lady Shara enters the room holding a short wooden dowel with a small candle lantern hanging from its notched end. Outside the window, dusk’s muted glow has not yet given over to full night. Inside, Jalan’s room is dark and the candle sends wavering suffused light dancing across the walls and his mother’s form.

She softly closes the door behind her and smiles as she walks to his bed where she sits on the edge of it. “How are you feeling?” Lady Shara asks.

“Tired,” replies Jalan.

“If you like I can speak to Master Enmar about...”

“Mother, no!” blurts Jalan. He feels his face color with embarrassment which he hopes is not visible in the candlelight. “I mean, please don’t. Everything is fine, really.” Jalan can hear the edge of pleading in his voice.

“If you are certain,” she says. The words sound like the grudging acceptance of a battle she knows she cannot win.

“Master Enmar says the beginning is the most difficult time. It will get better. But, I have to do this. Father wanted me to do this.” Again, he hears himself pleading with her.

Lady Shara reaches out and sets the little candle lamp on the night stand near the bed. She moves closer to Jalan. He snuggles into her arms. Jalan knows his mother only objects to his training because she loves him and wishes to spare him. And, he knows she only allows him to continue for the same reason. He falls asleep while thinking again of the two sides of love and how he and his mother try to make each other’s suffering easier.

The next day Jalan finds Krenis Enmar running flax string between stakes in the ground. It looks like a big rectangle. As Enmar finishes his last knot, two of the estate’s craftsmen arrive.

“Good day, Krenis. This where you want it?” asks Master Anton the stone mason.

“I’ve staked it out for you,” says Enmar. “Now I’ll be off and let you good men get to work. I know Master Doon has the plans well in hand.”

“Literally,” says Carpenter Doon as he waves a set of rolled parchments he is carrying.

“What are they doing?” says Jalan as he follows Master Enmar hoping that today’s training is less torturous than yesterdays.

“Building a Training Hall!” says Enmar with exuberance.

Jalan has done a lot of training, but he never suspected there were buildings dedicated to it. “Why,” he says, feeling puzzled.

Master Enmar stops and faces him. “Because, you are not being trained for a month or a season; you are being trained for a lifetime. That takes more than running around a dusty practice yard can do.”

Enmar moves off again and leads Jalan to what looks like a plank leaning against a tree at a shallow angle. When he looks closer, Jalan sees a stout dowel mounted horizontally on a wooden block. The block connects the center of the dowel to the surface of the plank. With the dowel attached in that fashion it looks like a crossbar handle to Jalan. The purpose for mounting a handle three quarters of the way up on the top side of the plank is not obvious to Jalan.

Jalan is told to lie on the plank with his head at the low end and to hook his ankles under the handle like dowel at the high end. After a couple of attempts to comply, he decides to straddle the plank and hook one ankle by raising his right leg and sliding his right ankle in from the side and under the end of the suspended dowel. Then he grasps the edges of the plank at the point where he seats himself upon it. While using his hands and his right ankle to stay in place, he hooks his other ankle under the opposite end of the dowel post and lies down on his back.

Master Enmar instructs Jalan to sit up and touch his toes. The boy finds the stretching and lying back almost pleasant at first. He does not keep track of how many times he repeats the motion. Instead he tries for a steady rhythm he hopes will not exhaust him too soon. Jalan keeps sitting up, touching his toes and lying back until he can no longer sit up at all. He is covered in sweat and uncertain how to get off the plank. He manages to place his hands on the ground and push up enough to let him free his ankles, but all he can do after that is a combination of sliding down the plank head first and rolling off it sideways which ends with him in a fatigued heap on the ground. When he tries to stand, his legs will not support him.

“You did well enough. Sit and rest and I’ll get you some water,” says Master Enmar.

After a brief respite and a cool drink, Jalan does pushups. He does the first set while pushing with his fingertips on the ground, the second with fists on the ground and a third set with his palms. Next he practices standing and walking on his hands followed by another short rest and another drink of water. Jalan wonders if the water he drinks even comes close to the amount he perspires.

Master Enmar directs Jalan to stand on one leg with his other leg held out in front of him and then to squat down and stand back up. He repeats this in a series of ten repetitions for each leg until he can no longer push himself back up from his squat.

Jalan is then directed to run until he does not feel tired any more, which means Jalan jogs around the estate grounds until Master Enmar tells him to stop and wash up for lunch.

Δ

The afternoon consists of weapons practice. He and Master Enmar primarily work with long swords and sabers. They spend a little time reviewing finer points of fighting from horseback. Much of it depends on the horse’s condition and training. At the end of the afternoon, Enmar shows Jalan a long hollow tube he calls a blowpipe. Jalan learns that an object which looks like a large pointed needle with down or a bit of feather affixed to one end is called a dart. The dart is placed in one open end of the blowpipe and when one blows into that end the dart is supposed to fly out the other end and strike a target.

The idea of it seems so humorous Jalan can hardly suppress his laughter when Master Enmar explains the weapon. After his teacher demonstrates the blowpipe and Jalan sees how well the needle penetrates into a tree trunk, he admits it could be painful.

“But,” says Jalan, “it could never stop an attacker like a bow or a sling could.”

“That is true. The use of a blowpipe is more subtle. It can be a good weapon for hunting small birds and animals. In a tight spot you might be able to spook an enemy’s mount with it.” Holding up the dart he retrieves from the tree trunk Enmar says, “Imagine how that would feel in a horse’s thigh.”

Jalan is unconvinced. “What if the horse is armored?” he says.

His teacher waves his hand in a sweeping gesture to indicate the estate grounds. “How many armored horses do you see? For that matter, how many armored men?”

“None,” is Jalan’s grudging reply.

“Why is that?”

“Because no one wears armor unless they think they need it.”

Enmar nods. “And if all you have is a blowpipe, how will you use it?”

“Attack when the enemy is not ready and retreat when they are,” says Jalan.

“Very good. When there is no advantage in victory, it is better to deny your enemy the battle. Even if you win, the cost of victory is likely to destroy you anyway.”

Jalan is a little annoyed at not realizing the blowpipe discussion would become a lecture on tactics. Master Enmar has been hammering him with four ideas for the last two weeks. Denying the battle is the first of them. The second is that if battle cannot be avoided then be the one to choose the battleground. Third, if you cannot choose the battleground then control the conditions of the battle. And, forth, if you cannot control the conditions of the battle, change the conditions.

He is not sure if Master Enmar means these ideas to apply to more than fighting, but Jalan finds that they also work well for some other things. He is able to get more food out of Mistress Dahlia if he asks when she is busy. When she is organized and things are running smoothly in the kitchen, she allows him a small morsel. But, if several things are happening at once and her attention is scattered, Jalan often gets a larger portion.

He notices a pattern in his own training as well. Captain Erida, Master Hern and Master Enmar all teach him things in stages. It is not obvious at the start, only as the training progresses it becomes possible to look back over the progression. Jalan is certain that once the new training hall Master Enmar is building is complete, all the physical strength, stamina and coordination training will become the beginning of something greater.