Chapter XI #2
My Vetusian causes his eyes to flicker in momentary dismay at Caeror, who waves him down apologetically. “Vis.”
“Sorry.” It’s still hard to remember that even that much attempt at interaction makes the Qabrans uncomfortable, their rules surrounding strangers to their community incredibly strict.
I gaze grimly at the blade. Delaying. I was the first to use it, today.
We needed to start by ensuring I could actually imbue Tash, could correctly perform the process that I’d learned so much about over the past year, but never had occasion to try.
So I did it. Imbued the man using the excess Will from my khepri amulet, stabbed him and then commanded him to say things, do things.
No matter that he had experienced an Instruction Blade before, or had volunteered for this.
No matter that the initial command Caeror suggested was to tell him to feel no pain, so the agony of the wound would be brief.
After I succeeded, after Tash first found himself unable to resist obeying anything I told him, I emptied my stomach.
Since then, Caeror has taken over control of the Instruction Blade, telling Tash to be silent and still; my task has been to try and circumvent those commands—or at least add new ones—through imbuing alone.
As my new instructor points out, the only way any of this will be of use is if I can reliably turn Ka’s eyes and ears against him.
The problem is that, hours later, I am still unable to make it work.
“How in the gods’ graves did you figure all of this out, anyway?” Not willing to start again, just yet.
“Yusef.”
I give an unsurprised grunt to the brief response.
Yusef, I’ve learned this past week, was Caeror’s mentor.
The man who rescued him from Solivagus when he first came through the Gate.
The one who showed him how to use the Channels, and taught him almost everything of what he now knows of Duat. “How did he do it, though?”
“I don’t know the specifics, but I imagine it was passed down to him.
The Qabrans have been in hiding for generations.
Slowly dwindling, slowly dying out.” He chews his lip.
“Yusef wanted to change that. He dedicated his life to finding out what he could about Ka, his weaknesses. Most people out here just survive, but Yusef … Yusef always wanted more.” A hint of melancholy.
They were evidently close. “He had ties to other communities, too. Met with them, now and then, to exchange information. They may have given him hints as well.”
I stop. Genuinely interested. “There are other people hiding out here?” Caeror has told me a lot, but there’s still so much I don’t know about this place, this world.
“Of course! But I don’t know where, or how to contact them,” he adds, seeing I’m going to pursue the subject.
“And the very few Qabrans who do won’t tell me.
Perhaps when one of their children comes of marriageable age, or if there is some crisis they cannot overcome alone, they will take the risk.
But caution is life out here, Vis. Each of us already holds the fate of one community. More than that is unnecessary.”
“Except there’s an entire network of resistance out there that we can’t access.”
“Except for that.” He shrugs and issues that crooked smile of his at me.
I give a soft, frustrated laugh. “Gods’ graves. Fair enough. One day I’ll find something that bothers you, though.”
“One of my teachers back home once told me that sometimes, the only thing we can control is our attitude. And sometimes that can be enough. It’s always seemed especially needed, here.” He winces. “Not getting on your nerves, I hope.”
“No. Gods, no. I admire it.” I do. Obiteum is a nightmare, but Caeror accepts it with such sanguine grace that it’s hard not to try and follow suit. “I wish I could be the same way.”
“Give it a few years. You are doing far, far better than I did in my first week. Believe me.” Caeror’s rueful smile is encouraging. “Now. I suspect Tash is getting bored, so …”
I sigh and nod to the gentle admonishment at my delay. Reach out and put my hand on Tash’s bare shoulder.
“Try one of the variants of the Caecilius visualisation. The one he suggested for Harmonic Reaction,” says Caeror, pacing around us as if trying to see the connection I’m attempting to make.
I consider, the iunctus’s unnaturally cool flesh utterly motionless beneath my grip. “Using myself as one of the Harmonic objects? And Tash as the other?” That feels wrong, but then so many of the things we’ve tried this afternoon feel wrong.
“Worth trying.” He sees my expression. Softens from academic curiosity to sympathy. “I know. Look, we only have about an hour of light left anyway. If you need to stop—”
“No.” I snap it out, more harshly than I mean to. The idea of leaving without making any progress whatsoever, knowing I’ll have to come back and start again tomorrow, is harder to face than continuing. “It’s a good suggestion,” I add, modifying my tone.
I turn away before he can say more or I can change my mind.
Focus on Tash, burning his gangly image into my mind once again: a strong mental representation is the start of almost every Will-based process on Res, even if Caeror says it may not be necessary here.
The frustrating thing—or the most frustrating thing, at least—is that while I know all the theory, excelled at virtually every practical aspect of the Academy, I’ve never actually used Will in any of these advanced ways before.
I have no way of knowing whether my failures are from methodology or execution.
I’m fumbling in the dark, and the worst part is that I’m not even sure what I’m trying to find should feel like.
“Caecilius. Harmonic Reaction.” I mutter the words to myself.
We focused on this in Class Four. A few gods-damned months ago.
A Harmonic Reaction ties two objects together: if one moves in space, so must the other.
But crucially, their weight becomes that only of the heavier object—which is why Harmonics are so key to the Hierarchy’s machinery.
“Weight paralletics,” they call it. The reason things like Transvects can work.
Of course, I’m not concerned about how heavy we are, here. And in Res, people can’t be imbued. And a Harmonic Reaction with oneself isn’t possible. And Harmonics have nothing to do with somehow connecting to the gods-damned mind of another person.
But nothing else I’ve ever heard of does, either. So we may as well try.