The Book of Deacon (38 page)

"And, yet, immediately afterward, you
followed him into the water. You followed him into what must have
seemed to be certain death despite the fact he had revealed that
all you knew about him was a lie," he said.

"Yes," she said.

"Well, then. You either have incredible
intuition or terrible judgment. Not to offend you, of course.
Clearly it was the correct decision and you ought to be commended,"
he said.

"Thank you, I suppose," Myranda said.

"I checked up on him. Asked around. Those
that can remember him, and there are precious few, all agree on two
points. One is that his name isn't Leo. No one is quite sure what
his name is, but it is certainly not what he has told you. Leo, it
turns out, was a student that was being trained at the same time.
In what I am sure is no coincidence, his disposition was strikingly
similar to that of your friend prior to your discovery of his
deception. He was a human, and has since passed on," Deacon
said.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. All else
had been a lie, why not that as well?" she said. A thought came to
her mind. "Why are there so few that remember him?"

"That is another thing I was puzzled about.
Your friend completed several years of training and left this place
seventy years ago, roughly," he said.

"Seventy? No, that is impossible. I cannot
tell precisely how old he is, but he does not look old by any
means," she said.

"Oh, on this there can be no doubt. It is one
of the few things about him that we have recorded," he said.

"But how can you be sure it was his record
you found," she asked.

"It was labeled 'Unnamed Lain,' and bore his
description. Also, the two wizards and three warriors who remember
him all quote that as the approximate time," he said. "He is also
the only malthrope we have trained."

Myranda shook her head in amazement.

"Unbelievable. With each passing moment, I
realize how much less I know about him than I thought. And now I am
fairly trapped in the same town as he, and I cannot even catch a
glimpse of him, let alone get him to speak," she said.

"This really means a lot to you," he
said.

"I trusted him. I just want to know what
manner of person betrayed that trust. I just want to know that
there is something about him that is as good and pure as the person
he claimed to be," she said.

"I won't lie to you. Between his skills and
his seniority here, if he does not wish to see you, he won't,"
Deacon lamented.

"I've come to realize that," she said.

"He need only answer to the Elder at this
point," Deacon said.

Myranda finished her meal as Deacon, having
already choked his down as quickly as possible, waited impatiently.
The moment she was finished, he led her off in the direction of a
cluster of huts on the other side of the village--as always with
Myn in tow. Outside of the huts were piles of wood cut to all
variety of sizes. The smoke belching out of the chimney of one hut
could have only meant that it was the blacksmith's, while another
hut, the one that they were to enter, merely had longer, more
slender pieces of wood outside to hint at its purpose. Inside was
rather well-lit against the now stiff darkness of the night by the
array of crystals that not only lined the walls, but lined shelves
and display cases as well.

A man and a woman, each so like the other
that they could only be spouses or siblings, could be found inside.
Each wore an odd pare of lenses mounted on stalks on their heads.
The woman was at the back, carving a design onto a staff, while the
man was nearer to the front, cutting a notch into a larger piece of
wood before roughing the rest out into a staff shape. Both were
short and stocky, certainly dwarfs. The man had dark hair and a
well-groomed beard. The woman was slightly shorter and looked to be
a bit younger.

"This is Myranda. Myranda, this gentleman is
Koda and the lady is Gamma. They are our resident staff-makers,"
Deacon introduced.

Koda put down his chisel to shake her hand
and offered what sounded like a cheery greeting in whatever odd
language he called his own. Gamma looked up and smiled before
continuing her exacting work.

"We will require a training staff and crystal
for this young lady," Deacon said.

Myn watched curiously as the stout fellow
selected several staffs from the racks that lined the wall and
handed them to Myranda one by one. Deacon translated the artisan's
questions, which all had roughly to do with how each piece felt,
whether she liked the weight, and whether she preferred one
thickness or another. Myranda was mostly at a loss for how to
answer until Deacon explained that she ought to choose one as
though she were choosing a walking stick before hiking.

Once the appropriate staff was chosen, Koda
took some measurements of Myranda's height and arm length with a
knotted rope, shouting said measurements to his partner, who called
them back without looking up. When Myn decided he had come too
close and moved in to back him away, the dwarf apparently found it
absolutely hilarious, as he laughingly recounted the event to his
partner, who swiftly joined in the laughter.

"What is so funny?" Myranda whispered.

"He had a dog that would do the same thing,"
Deacon answered.

"Ah," Myranda replied, failing to see the
humor in it.

Still laughing, Koda took the chosen staff to
a case of gems and selected one, carefully fitting it into the
staff. He then handed it to her and informed Myranda by way of
Deacon that, based on her preference and the measurements, a custom
one would be made over the course of the next few weeks.

Myranda looked down at her weapon. It had a
dark brown, slightly red color, and was carved along its length
with runes similar to those that had formed the spells Wolloff had
taught. The crystal was mostly clear, though there were veins here
and there that were a bit milky. It was slightly smaller than her
fist. Much larger than the one in the locket that Wolloff had
given. From end to end, the tool was a bit taller than shoulder
height.

"Excellent choice. Now, if you are ready, it
is time for your second day with Solomon," Deacon said.

The trio found their way to the training
ground where Solomon was waiting. Deacon took a seat at the edge of
the stone circle on the ground where the teaching took place and
readied his book. Myn gave a dragonish greeting to her fellow
creature before taking her seat faithfully beside Myranda. With the
crystal of the staff on the ground in front of her, she awaited the
flame to be conjured before her. No sooner had it been done than
she slipped swiftly into the trance.

With the aid of the crystal, it took a
fraction of the time that it had taken the day before. Everything
about it was more vivid. Sensing the essence of the flame and of
her own spirit before had been like flailing in the dark in
comparison. Now she could sense things about the strange energy she
had been oblivious to the night before. It was as though they had a
color and a texture that she had missed last time. What's more,
they were not alone. Every inch of her surroundings had a power to
it. The air, the earth, and particularly the other people. As her
gaze strayed from the flame, she marveled at the galaxy of
different auras that surrounded the people of the village. When
Solomon began prompting her to do so, she tried to manipulate her
own power and found its reactions to be a degree more intense.

"Do not manipulate your essence as a whole.
Separate a part of it," his voice directed.

Slowly, she willed some small part of the
power she felt within her away from the whole.

"Now. Sense the power that the fire feeds on.
You must feed the fire," he said.

With her new, clearer view of the energy,
Myranda could certainly detect the power being drawn into the
flame. Though manipulating her own energy was still new and
unpredictable to her, she tried and tried until she found the
swirling ball of spirit changing its nature, becoming more like
that which the flame yearned for.

"Excellent, now bring it to the flame," he
said.

With the merest thought, she guided her
mystic concoction to the flame and was nearly startled out of
concentration. The fire leapt up, many times its size and many more
times its heat. At the same time, she felt an odd draw on her
essence. It was a unique feeling, to be losing this strength that
only the day before she did not know she had. The draw was steadily
growing more intense as the fire shrunk. By the time the burden
stabilized, the fire was barely more than an ember floating in the
air.

"The flame is yours now. Do not lose it," he
ordered.

Myranda pushed herself to provide more.
Almost imperceptibly, the flame began to return. In time, it
returned to the size the dragon had conjured. Maintaining the size
of the fire was unbearable, like carrying some vast weight. Not
only her mind and spirit, but all of her body seemed taxed by it.
Beads of sweat formed at her temples, her hands began to shake.

The draw quickly became unbearable. It seemed
days, weeks, a lifetime since she had begun. When she had no more
to give, Myranda relented. The fire, floating in air before her,
fizzled and died. As the trance lifted, she saw that it was still
night. Though she felt that this lesson had taken a great deal
longer than the last, it had in reality been less than half the
length.

"That will do for now. Rest if you must,
practice if you can, but come here fully refreshed tomorrow,"
Solomon said before retiring.

Myranda, despite the massive increase in
effort, felt far more herself now than she had the day before. The
staff really had made quite a difference, at least in the cost of
the spell. To be sure, the world still seemed to be shrouded in a
haze, and thinking was difficult, but she was able to climb to her
feet and walk with the aid of the staff. Deacon approached her, but
now that his help was unneeded, Myn judged him unnecessary and
forced him to keep his distance.

"That is a respectable endurance for only the
second lesson," he said.

Myranda thanked him, shaking her head in an
attempt to clear the cobwebs that were hanging about her mind. He
continued to talk, but she found it difficult to focus on his words
and walk at the same time. In fact, she had taken fifty steps or so
before she realized Deacon had repeatedly been asking her where she
was headed, and she did not know the answer.

"Where do you suggest?" she asked.

"If I were you, I would head home to meditate
until I had a bit more of my wits about me," he suggested.

"Meditate?" she asked.

"Oh, of course, how can I be so foolish? You
have not been taught to do so. It is quite useful, I assure you,"
he said.

Deacon escorted her to her hut and pulled a
chair before hers.

"If you can manage it, I need you to gather
your focus enough to sense your own essence again," he said.

"I shall try," Myranda offered.

She sat in her chair and focused about the
gem. It required a fair amount more effort than last time, but soon
enough she was aware of the mystic energies again, both outside and
in.

"Do you feel the energies of your
surroundings? Good. Now, let them flow through you. Let them become
one with you. Simply relax your body, mind, and spirit, and let the
outside flow in. Blur the line between yourself and your
surroundings," he said.

Myranda tried to comply. Her mind was still
struggling--but then something strange happened. As the energy
around her began to mingle with her own, she could feel her
strength returning. It was slow, very slow, but noticeable. While
she recovered, she "looked" at the essences around her.

Before her, she could see the strong pure
light of Deacon's spirit. Weaker, but still pure, was Myn, beside
her. The spirits of the wizards and warriors of this place speckled
her mind in a galaxy of different hues and intensities. In the
distance, she sensed one that was different. She focused on it.
This new way of detecting the world was different from seeing,
though. She "saw" all around her. Above, below, behind, each and
every direction was visible to her at once, with distance seeming
inconsequential.

As she trained her mind on the peculiar
essence in the distance, it seemed to draw nearer and grow more
distinct. It was subdued. Intense and yet restrained, as if
consciously reigned in and pushed down. On the surface, it appeared
no more powerful than the others, but deep beneath there was a
fundamental strength that seemed to continue inward eternally. It
could only be Lain.

After a time, she decided she had recovered
enough, pulling her mind from its focus and lifting herself from
the meditation.

When her eyes opened, the change was
remarkable. She almost felt normal, as though the training had not
occurred. It was difficult to say precisely how long the meditation
had taken, but Myn was asleep on the ground beside her, meaning it
had been at least a number of minutes. She looked across to Deacon.
He sat cross-legged on the chair, his hands folded about his
crystal, and his head down. As she stood, now steady enough to
forgo the staff for aid, the dragon stirred and gave an angry stare
at the still-present intruder. Myranda shook her head and decided
to pull Deacon from the meditation as well.

"Deacon. Deacon, I am finished, thank you. It
was quite helpful," she said.

The young man did not stir at all.

"Deacon?" she called.

In answer, Deacon released a raking snore and
rolled his head slightly to the side. Myranda chuckled. She knew he
needed sleep. Myn backed away cautiously at the noise, then moved
in close to investigate. As the dragon realized that Deacon was
asleep, she decided upon a proper method to wake him. She opened
her mouth, ready to deliver a motivating bite on the leg.