"That cup isn’t going to answer for you," Ji said.
"I felt some anger," John said at last.
"And that anger is yours, isn’t it?" Ji asked.
John didn’t answer. He knew he was to blame for the storm.
"You burned your fury into the sky when they took you to the Holy Road, didn’t you? You wanted to destroy everything."
"I just didn’t want to die," John replied. "But I never wanted to destroy anything."
Ji studied John. Then she sighed heavily.
"Maybe not," Ji said. "Maybe that’s why we are both alive now."
John stared down at his hands, unwilling to comment on Ji’s last remark. Ji leaned in close to John. Her strong animal smell rolled over him.
"I know what you are, Jahn. And I know what you can become. There is no point in trying to deceive me. Long ago, when I was bound to the Issusha’im Oracles, I saw you tear Basawar to pieces. I saw you burn the mountains down into the sea and nothing remained but the boiling waters."
John stared at Ji as sick horror spread through his body. He wouldn’t destroy Basawar. He refused to accept a prophecy as his condemnation.
"The issusha’im can be wrong," John said.
"Certainly. The entire point of creating the issusha’im is to make them wrong, to undo the future they foresee. That is their purpose." Ji’s eyes narrowed slightly. "That, and to find the Rifter."
John couldn’t look at Ji.
"But they didn’t bring you from Nayeshi," Ji said. "If they had, then you would be in the Payshmura’s power and Basawar would lie beneath the sea."
John remained silent. Thunder rolled and crashed through the sky outside.
"Who brought you to Basawar?" Ji asked.
"No one. It was a mistake. I found the key and a message that had been sent to the Kahlil. I crossed through the Great Gate by accident."
"What did the message say?" Ji asked.
"Don’t. That’s all it said."
Ji closed her eyes and nodded. "Yes. That is what I was planning to write."
John stared at her in confusion. Then he remembered that ten years in Basawar’s future was his own past.
"You sent the message?" John asked.
"I will send the message. That is my vision. In ten years, the Fai’daum will break Umbhra’ibaye’s defenses. I will send a false message to the Kahlil, Ravishan. The deception will cost me my life, but it will keep the Payshmura from bringing the Rifter to Basawar." Ji returned John’s gaze levelly. "It’s nothing personal, but it will save all of Basawar if the Kahlil were to kill you in Nayeshi."
"All for a good cause, then," John managed to croak out. His head still ached from the fathi administered the previous night, but now the pain seemed to grow more intense. He drained the last of the daru’sira from the mug.
"Why didn’t you say any of this last night?" John asked.
"The Fai’daum are fighting to ensure that another Rifter is never brought to this world." Ji watched John intently. Her animal features obscured any hint of her inner thoughts from John. "I don’t think the knowledge that you are already here would do much for morale. It could cause a panic."
"So you’re going to keep this a secret?" John asked.
"If by that you mean your true identity, yes, I plan to keep it secret."
A feeling of relief washed over John. He set his empty mug aside. "Then what are you planning to do now?"
"First, we will stop this storm."
"And then?"
"Then we will see," Ji replied.
John frowned. Ten years from now she would attempt to have him killed. She had already attempted it in John’s own past.
"If I was going to kill you," Ji said suddenly, "I would have done it last night while the fathi was still strong in your blood."
"Of course." It wasn’t the most reassuring thing to hear, but he respected Ji’s honesty. If their positions had been reversed, John doubted he would have admitted anything.
"Now, for all our sakes, we had better see how well your power can be controlled," Ji said.
"You still want to teach me?"
"Better to have you trained than walking the world completely out of control." Ji jumped down from the straw bale.
John started to rise to follow her, but Ji shook her head.
"Stay there. I’m raising a ward around you. I don’t imagine it will hold you, but if you lash out it will be better than nothing."
Ji circled John, scratching her long toenails into the dark wood of the floor. She whispered words John didn’t understand. He guessed they were Eastern incantations. As she closed the circle, John felt a hum of energy rise around him. It wasn’t a strong sensation. It reminded him of middle school science class when he had placed his hands over a plasma globe. A rush of static had swept over him, making the tips of his short hair rise and causing sparks to dance from the globe to his fingertips.
John extended his hand and watched as a white spark arced up and snapped against his palm. The shocks felt oddly alive. John thought he heard words hissing in his ears as each arc struck his skin.
"Stop that," Ji growled.
"Sorry. I was curious."
"You’re worse than Tanash," Ji said. "Keep your hands at your sides."
John obeyed her instruction, but a thought nagged at him.
"Ji?" John asked.
"What?"
"Will you still go ahead with the plan to assault Umbhra’ibaye?"
"If the Kahlil has been sent to find the Rifter, I must."
"What if he hasn’t?" John asked.
"If he hasn’t?" Ji cocked her head slightly. "Hasn’t he?"
"No," John admitted. "He saved me on the Holy Road instead."
"Do you know where he is now?" Ji asked.
"No, but I know he hasn’t gone to Nayeshi. The Payshmura have put a price on his head. They won’t send him."
"I see. That changes things." Ji stood silently, apparently thinking, her breath blowing out in white wisps. John shoved his hands into his coat pockets. He wished he had another warm cup of daru’sira. Finally, Ji said, "This storm has to end. That’s all we can do right now."
"I’m ready."
"Good. Now, listen to me and don’t interrupt. You need to focus on the storm. I don’t want you to extend your senses out into it. Instead, I want you to pull it into you. Do you understand what I’m saying?"
"I understand, but I’m not sure how to do it. If I don’t reach out to the storm, how will I know where it is? How will I manipulate it?"
"You’ll know because it is a part of you. It is linked to you, just as this ward is linked to me." Ji sat down. "When you reach out, you feed the storm. You push more of your emotion into it. You give it life. That is not what we want. Instead of reaching out, imagine that you are pulling the storm in from the air as if you were drawing in a deep breath."
"I’ll try." John took in a breath, concentrating only on the air around him. It felt crisp and smelled slightly of straw and animal feed. He felt the cool structure of atoms warm in his lungs. Oxygen saturated his blood cells in a rush of energy. He exhaled carbon dioxide.
He thought of the storm and how it must be linked to him. Ji had said it was an embodiment of the rage he had felt on the Holy Road.
He drew in another deep breath. This time the memory of veru oil clung to him. The air felt like ice in his throat. It stung and bit his flesh as he drew it down into his lungs. When the oxygen hit his bloodstream, it felt like fire. It burned through him and sent pain flaring over his muscles. He remembered the agony of his broken bones. John exhaled and ribbons of smoke streamed up from his mouth.
Snow poured from the air, churning around John. As he pulled more frigid air down, he could hear his own voice howling in the wind.
He drew the sound back into himself. The air slid down his throat like a knife blade. John tasted blood. He clenched his eyes closed, concentrating on holding the tearing storm inside himself. Bolts of cold pain shot through his chest. His lungs tore the energy from the storm. For a moment a blind, black rage surged through John. Then heat flared through his body. The storm seared to vapor. White flames and steam poured from his mouth as he exhaled.