Now he had to consider the hematite in a different light, and for a different purpose. He had tried to warn Brother Reandu that Cadayle was in danger. He had heard Tarkus Breen's whispered threat. But he hadn't succeeded and Reandu had merely reassured him that everything was all right, that bluster was just that and that the boys were "feisty"-yes, that was the word Reandu had used several times to describe the bullies-but were not criminals.
Bransen knew better. He had seen the look in Tarkus Breen's eyes. He had heard the hateful tone of Breen's voice. All that led him to the inescapable conclusion that Cadayle was in danger.
And no one would help her. And he was here, in a hole in the dark, hardly able to help himself.
Bransen forced himself to stand on his wobbly legs. He recalled the head to groin, conscious alignment of the energy line, of ki-chi-kree. Even though Bransen could hardly hope to achieve or sustain such a state, the effort to do so allowed him to throw aside his jumble of thoughts, one by one.
He dismissed the humiliation he had suffered outside. He dismissed Bernivvigar's threatening glare. He dismissed the unsettling comments of Master Bathelais. He dismissed the implications of the reference to his mother's sword. He even put aside his thoughts of Cadayle.
Temporarily.
Now he was in control of his tormented body. Now he stood straight and strong, and he stretched his arms out, then brought them in slowly and in perfect coordination, working through some of the Jhesta Tu exercises.
With a deep breath, Bransen fell into stillness and let thoughts of Cadayle come back to mind, hearing again the threat from Tarkus Breen. He focused the inevitable rising anger into his meditation, into his determination.
He knew he had to do something, but how could he even begin?
He thought again of the gemstone, of the moment of not just physical wholeness, but of easy physical wholeness.
Bransen stepped forward, walking swiftly before this effort of smooth movement weakened him. He went below the trapdoor and pushed it open, hoping that no brothers were around in the lower levels of the chapel at this late hour.
Bransen lifted his arms and planted his hands firmly on the lip of the opening. Only as he pulled himself up did he come to understand that his years of torment, of twisting and struggling for every movement, had actually done something wonderfuclass="underline" his muscles were strong. Now moving with coordination, his often-flailing arms easily hoisted him out of his hole.
He was beginning to tire, though, as he walked across to the desk and he nearly fell with exhaustion, his mind beginning to lose focus, his chi beginning to scatter once more. With great effort, Bransen pulled open the small side drawer, where Brother Reandu had dropped the gemstone-filled pouch.
He pulled it forth and carefully emptied its contents onto the desk, then sifted through the stones to find the one he needed. As soon as he had the smooth gray hematite in hand, Bransen felt the cool pull of its depths. He had never been trained in gemstone use, and he had only rarely seen the brothers of Abelle employ them. He wasn't sure how to begin to access and employ the magic.
But he found himself in the swirl of the stone almost immediately, and he understood its properties clearly. Amazed, Bransen quickly realized that the mental state that permitted gemstone use was almost identical to Jhesta Tu concentration.
His arm was shaking again, so much so that he actually punched himself in his still-sore nose-which sent a wave of nausea rolling through him-as he lifted the soul stone to his forehead. Finally he got it in place, and he let his thoughts flow through its inviting depths and then back into his chi, starting right there at his forehead.
Bransen's breathing steadied, and his arms and legs stopped shaking almost immediately. He saw his line of energy coalesce and straighten, and he felt a harmony within.
A perfect harmony, even more complete than he had achieved in those few moments when Brother Reandu used the stone on him. The combination of Jhesta Tu and gemstone magic held his life energy, his chi, strong and tight.
Bransen stood straight. He wanted to move through some of the Jhesta Tu exercises, for all weariness had suddenly flown, but he couldn't bring his arm down. He wanted to revel in this feeling of freedom, this feeling that all healthy people took for granted. He wanted to stand there and bask in the moment or to jump for in joy in an impromptu dance.
Could Cadayle wait for him to calm down?
He began replacing the other stones in the pouch; with each one he handled, he felt its magical energy, and its knowledge of its various properties flitted through his mind. He felt the tingling of the lightning-inspiring graphite and the weightlessness afforded by malachite. He felt the inner heat of ruby, the protective shield of the serpentine, and the warmth and light of diamond. The stones seemed strangely familiar to him. He couldn't dwell on it now, though. He put the pouch away and returned to his chamber. He fumbled with his bedding and pulled forth the black silk suit. It was still in amazing condition, but a seam at the right shoulder had begun to open. Bransen knelt on the main part of the black shirt and with his free hand pulled the right sleeve off. Then he wrapped it around his head, using it to secure the hematite in place.
Gingerly Bransen tied the ends together and brought his hands down to his sides, then breathed a huge sigh of relief: the gemstone effect was continuing even without his hand holding the stone. The connection remained, and it was strong.
Bransen smiled as he considered the expressions he might elicit if he walked out of his hole and to Master Bathelais's private quarters! What would Bernivvigar think of him now? Would he apologize? And what of Tarkus Breen and his cohorts? Bransen was free of his limitations; Bransen was also schooled in the martial ways of Jhest. He felt confident that Tarkus Breen couldn't even hit him, let alone hurt him!
Indeed, what might the world think of the Stork now?
Bransen's smile disappeared and a wave of fear nearly buckled his legs, every hopeful possibility fast replaced by dread.
With that in mind, he removed his bandana. Working carefully, one hand holding the gemstone, the other manipulating the material, he brought the fabric over the candle and held it there, once and then a second time. When he put the bandana back on his head to hold the gemstone, he spread it over his face so that it covered his nose and all the way to his upper lip. An adjustment showed him that he had burned the eyeholes correctly.
Cadayle.
That one thought stayed with him. He quickly pulled off his tunic and began donning the black silk suit. He recognized one error almost immediately, though, for he had removed the right sleeve, showing his bare arm and the unique birthmark. Thinking quickly, Bransen removed his bandana and tore a narrow strip off it. He put his mask back in place, then tied the strip around his right arm, hiding the mark.
When he put on the soft shoes, he felt as if he could leap to the stars or run faster than any deer. He was complete, dressed in his mother's outfit of station and blessed by the powers of both Jhest and the Abelle gemstone. He blew out the candle and scrambled out of his hole, closing the trapdoor behind him; and he quietly crossed out of the chapel, across the courtyard, and out into the night. As he tried to get his bearings, he moved from shadow to shadow, though there were few people milling about anyway. Cadayle lived at the western end of town, he remembered from long ago, or at least she had lived out there.
Bransen ran off.
He ran off!
His legs moved swiftly and he didn't have to throw them by jerking his hips forward. His legs strode in balance, his feet planting firmly with each long running stride. Bransen couldn't believe the feeling of freedom, of elation, and pure joy. He had never imagined this release from the bonds of his infirmity. He had never imagined the feel of the wind in his hair quite like this. He almost felt as if he were flying; and to him, this ability to run was almost as much of a leap as true flight would have been to a normal man.