Surprise lightened Arjenie’s expression. “Of course. You’re a sensitive. Magic shouldn’t hurt you, should it? But somehow it did.”
Cullen shook his head. “Because she’s doing things with it she couldn’t do before. Lily, it seems obvious that when you use your Gift differently, it leaves you less than completely impermeable to magic. Most Gifts aren’t stuck in the ‘on’ position, after all. Cynna doesn’t Find things unless she looks for them. I don’t spray fire around all the time. Arjenie isn’t using her Gift now, so we all see her. You must be—”
“No,” Lily said again. “There’s a lot I don’t know about my Gift, but I’m clear on one thing. I can’t turn it off. It isn’t like those shields of yours—and that’s what Sam says, not my own, uninformed opinion.”
Cullen scowled at her. “Explain your headache, then.”
“The only way I can see for magic to hurt me is if it’s my magic.”
Cullen’s scowl slid into a frown—a thinking sort of frown, not the angry sort. That was one of his saving graces. Cullen might argue at the drop of a vowel, but he didn’t take offense if you disagreed. He just kept arguing … unless he decided you had a point. He was capable of turning around and agreeing with you, because getting it right was more important to him than being right.
“I don’t see it,” Cynna said. “I don’t see how your magic could be doing a number on you. It sure looks like it was Arjenie’s magic that did it.” She shrugged. “But then, I don’t get mindspeech.”
Cullen spoke slowly. “What you did to the Chimei last month …”
“Yes?” Lily wished she could use mindspeech right then so she could think “shut up” at him. She didn’t want him to mention her ability to soak up someone else’s magic.
Either he got the warning, or he was tactful, for once. “In a way, that’s a logical extension of your Gift. You soak up magic. Normally you absorb such a tiny mote of power that the loss isn’t noticeable. Your Gift translates that mote into your own form of magic—and in the process, gives you information about what you touched. You experience that information as a tactile sensation.”
“Yeah,” she said, not seeing where he was going.
“Mindspeech doesn’t fit with that model—”
“I noticed that.”
“—unless we stipulate that receiving thoughts is simply another way of experiencing information. Thought and magic are closely linked.”
Lily’s brows drew down. “I almost understood that.”
“I think I get it,” Arjenie burst out. She looked at Cullen. “It’s the ‘thought given form’ dictum you’re thinking of, right?”
His eyebrows lifted. “That’s right.”
Arjenie turned to Lily, her thin face alight with enthusiasm. “It’s a Wiccan teaching. Spells are ‘thought given form.’ By that we mean the caster’s intent is translated into an external statement using spell components, but the spell can’t function unless the caster’s thoughts are aligned with the statement of the spell. Which means, basically, that you can’t cast a spell that doesn’t make sense to you. But some take the expression farther. They believe that thoughts are part of the statement, just as much an external component as a sprig of rue.”
“I’m sorry,” Lily said, “but if that was supposed to explain something, I’m missing it.”
“It’s the difference between thoughts happening strictly inside our heads or being somehow ‘out there’ as well, like radio waves. Though I don’t think radio waves are a good model because that’s a space-time phenomena and I’m not sure—”
Benedict laid a hand over Arjenie’s. “Later, perhaps, for that.”
“Oh. I suppose so.” She looked at Lily earnestly. “If this model is accurate, thoughts are always external as well as internal, and mindspeech would be a sort of magical translator. Like your touch sensitivity, it soaks up a bit of something that’s out there and puts it in a form your brain understands. Only instead of tactile sensations, you get words. So it would be your magic giving you the information, not mine.”
“Okay,” Lily said slowly. “But that doesn’t explain two things. Sam sends as well as receives thoughts. If mindspeech just translates external stuff, how could he do that? And I still don’t see why really loud kinspeech would give me the mother of all headaches.”
Cullen shrugged. “I can’t answer your first question. I could speculate, but not helpfully. But as for your headache … we don’t really understand what happens in the brain when we think, but we know it involves electrical impulses and the way neurons fire together. I’d guess the ‘really loud kinspeech’ used your own magic to create new neural pathways in a really loud way.”
That didn’t sound good. But Nettie had said she was fine. She felt fine.
“The point is, if that’s the correct model for what happens when you touch Arjenie, it won’t be dangerous for you to try again. You might not be able to repeat what you did earlier, but there wouldn’t be any danger in trying.”
“Glad to hear that,” she said, “because clearly I have to try.” She looked at Rule. “If it hurts, I’ll stop. Promise.” Their eyes met. For a second her mind went light and dizzy in an echo of that free-fall moment when the mate bond had first clicked in place. It was like having your skull vanish. It came back, but for a second, it wasn’t there.
Rule smiled, his eyes swimming in mystery as if he’d felt it, too. “Nadia.” He touched her cheek. “I accept your promise.”
Lily nodded, swallowed, and held out her hand to Arjenie.
Slowly Arjenie reached across the table and clasped it.
… wish I could tell them! The …
She had it. Then she didn’t. This time, though, Lily didn’t try harder. She didn’t try at all. Instead she breathed slowly and thought about candle flame and skin, about the cool, complex feel of Arjenie’s magic. “I’m not getting much, but I got something,” she murmured. “I’m going to ask questions. Answer out loud when you’re able to. And, ah, think softly. Don’t put any power into it, okay?”
Arjenie’s smile sketched uncertain agreement. She added a nod to that.
“Why do you believe Robert Friar is a Listener?”
“Someone told me.” Dya warned me when she called. Wish I knew how she could do that, if it was magic or… snuck into his house? but she … Friar can Listen across the country, she said. Be careful. There wasn’t time to … worried about her. If he …
“I know you can’t talk about Dya. Think about her—who she is, how you know her.”
She’s my sister. That arrived as clearly as spoken words, but trailed a confusing mélange of thoughts and memories. Something to do with Dya staying with Arjenie when Arjenie was young. Staying up talking and talking all night. Love you, little fox. Their father didn’t want Arjenie talking about Dya … didn’t want Dya put to the tears so young …
“Your father brought Dya to you.”
Yes, he wanted them to wait a few years before they gave her the tears. Her elders didn’t agree and the contract … she’s a professional daughter, not like me, but the contract doesn’t … it’s the best thing I know of him, that he wanted to … the tears. I hate them. Addict their daughters on purpose so … her duty, but she’s so different but I …
“These tears are an addictive substance.”
She goes crazy without them. Brain damage that can’t be healed and that’s how Friar controls her but she thinks he’s broken contract which is a very big deal to the Binai but Queens’ Law even bigger I don’t know …