Skies, but he missed that extension of his power. Curse Aella and her games – for that’s what they were. The girl played cool-hearted, she even had keen-eyed Misol fooled, but Detan noted the subtle pleasure she took in fencing with him, and winning. No body numb of heart would bother with such an endeavor. No matter what Aella thought about herself, or tried to present herself as, that girl could feel, deep down. Maybe not as strongly as the rest of the world, but without motivation driven by emotion she would have been an automaton long ago, a husk bowing to whatever Callia ordered of her.
Instead, the girl had poisoned Callia into helplessness, stolen her and her subjects away to serve under Thratia, and usurped her position as researcher of deviant sensitives. What that had to say about Aella’s emotional core… well. Detan knew he’d be well to never trifle with that young lady. Their verbal fencing aside, to truly raise Aella’s ire would be a death sentence – no, not that. She’d find something worse for him than death. He’d never claim she wasn’t creative.
He shuddered and snapped back to himself. Focus, it seemed, would forever be his greatest obstacle. That, and controlling the flow of his rage.
He reached for his anger. It leapt to him, ready as always, a stoked bed of coals deep in his chest hungry for outlet. Even in his most serene of moments he’d known it was there, hiding beneath his flesh, lurking in the shadowed corners of his mind. He liked to think he was not a hateful man. Liked to think that his desire to do good with his skillset was proof enough that his anger was not his master.
But he could never get away from it. No matter how powerfully Aella made him focus, or meditate, his mind was never truly empty. He could not change the manner in which his deviant power affected selium, no matter how much she hoped otherwise. He could move it, shape it, and urge it to tear itself to shreds.
He wondered if that meant that he secretly wanted to tear himself to shreds, too.
But that line of thought was not helpful now. One task. He’d set himself one simple job – find Clink and Forge and engender their help. Aella’s lessons yoked his every thought, but he could not allow them to master his every movement.
He was stalling. Avoiding applying his carefully measured anger into the little sliver of sel that he had, without conscious thought, floated over to rest on the wick in the lantern. It shimmered there, its pearlescent structure evident even in such a small amount, taunting him. A flame that shone but cast no light.
Aella had taught him the benefit of physical movement, a mirror of his intention, and so he visualized himself snapping his fingers to ignite the small globule and then, giving himself no more time to worry nor secondguess his ability, made the movement in truth.
Snap. Anger. Shut it down.
The speck of selium tore itself apart, and with a muted whoosh lit the wicked-up lantern into life.
He jumped to his feet and pumped the air with a fist, very nearly knocking the lantern over in the process. He bit his lips to stifle a cry of triumph. Such a simple thing, that tiny flame, but that thing existed at the very edge of his control. It’d been harder for him to light that wick than it’d be to blow the bulk of selium floating the ship. Or, at the very edge of his sphere of awareness, the massive firemount that loomed near Aransa, and all the secret pockets of selium bubbling within.
That froze him in his celebration. At the moment he’d reached for the sliver, his awareness had expanded, wider than it ever had. Standing here, toward the peak of the mountain that housed Aransa, he could feel all the small and large pockets of selium hidden beneath the solid stone of the firemount a half-day’s walk away. In all the time he’d spent in this city in the past, never before had he been able to reach so far with such accuracy.
The thought chilled him to the core, snuffing the sparks of his victory.
Never mind that. Focus on finding the girls.
The lantern cast sharp shadows as he scooped it up and sauntered down the hall, testing every door handle he passed. Locked, all of them. But he wasn’t here to snoop behind locked doors. He was here to find two trapped women. Each handle he made sure to jiggle, until at the fifth down the line an irritated voice called, “It’s locked, you moron. You locked it your damn self.”
Detan grinned, recognizing the exasperated tone. “That you, Clink?”
Shuffling behind the door, then a soft thump as someone clunked their forehead against the wood trying to get a good look through the crack between door and jamb. “Well I’ll be fucked, it’s the Honding. Come to threaten to blow us up again?”
The lantern in his hand felt a little heavier. “I had no say in that. And, hey, I picked the right pouch, didn’t I?”
“Our hero,” Clink drawled. “The creepy little witch with you?”
Detan caught himself grinning at the blank face of the door like the madman he probably was. He could see why these two had gotten along well with Ripka. “It’s just me.”
“And a lockpick, I hope.”
“Uh, about that…”
A soft groan, then Forge said, “I told you he was a coward.”
“Hey, I’m not saying it won’t happen, I’m saying it’s not the right time.” He scowled at the door, wishing he could see their faces, wishing he could show them his face, and all the well-practiced expressions of assurance he could dance across it to help convince them.
“Talk to us when you got a plan, soft man,” Clink said. Forge didn’t bother hiding her laughter.
“That’s what I’m here for.” He threw an enigmatic smile at the door, then rolled his eyes at his own showboating. Tibs would have pissed himself laughing at that little move.
“Cute. More talk, less dancing.”
He bit his tongue to stifle a quip and cut to the meat of the matter. “I want to set you free.”
“Funny you should forget the lockpick, then.”
He grimaced and thumped his forehead against the door, letting them hear it. “I told you, I can’t manage that just yet. It’s too dangerous. You’re in the heart of Thratia Ganal’s compound, in Aransa. Did you know that?”
A pause, then Forge spoke, “No, we didn’t. We haven’t seen the sun since Aella dragged us aboard this ship, and frankly we’re starting to think we’re going to die before we get to see it again. I understand she’s keeping us on hand to keep you in line, but she forgets us sometimes. No food last night, and this morning she didn’t even mention it when she brought our rations. We had more freedom on the Remnant.”
“Fiery pits, I had no idea she’d forgotten about you.”
“Really,” Clink drawled. “And we were fresh on your mind, were we?”
That hit the mark so soundly he nearly dropped his lantern. Figured Ripka would ally herself with women clever enough to see right through to the core of him. “I can apologize all night, but that won’t help you. What I can do, is promise you this. We’re moving to Hond Steading soon – I don’t know when. A week, probably. In the meantime I can work on Aella, make sure as the skies are blue that you both get moved there with us. Hond Steading’s my city, I… I can help you better there. Send you to ground in a safe place, to escape the chains that bind you here.”
A soft snort, then a murmuring of voices as the women conferred. Forge said, “And what do you want in return?”
“I never said–”
“Didn’t have to, Honding. Cut the goatshit. You need something from us, something in Hond Steading. What is it?”
He flushed, embarrassed they’d seen through him so easily. “You in particular, Forge. I will have need of your special talents.”
“And if I help you, that will see both Clink and I free?”