Suddenly he wasn’t just in the desert any longer. He was over it, his mind soaring across the warm sand and rugged hillsides. The sensation amazed him. It came with such ease.
You see? Freeing your mind here is different from in the city, said Ruana. Here there are no other beings to interfere.
Untethered, Gilwyn let his mind fly through the night. He felt weightless, as if he himself were a bird on wing. The cool air made a mantel for him, wrapping him, bearing him up in every direction. He laughed with delight, and his concentration did not falter the way it had in the past.
‘What’s out here?’ he asked, excited to know. ‘What am I looking for, Ruana?’
Control the gift, Gilwyn. You shall see.
Gilwyn steadied his senses. Some Inhumans had amazing strength. Others, like the hunch-backed Monster, had the grace of a dancer. Gilwyn’s gift lied in other creatures, and the ability to communicate with him. He had always had this gift, Minikin had told him, from the moment he’d been given a monkey to help him with the smallest chores. That strange bond had grown into an infinity of powers, and Ruana had brought them out in him. With her help, he could control the amazing reptilian kreels or snatch a hawk in flight and see the world below through its keen, soaring eyes. With Ruana, he was never alone. Now she had sensed something worth finding.
But what?
Gilwyn slowed his thinking. Whatever was out there would come to him. His mind would draw it out. He would feel its coursing blood.
‘Rodents,’ he said. Their small brains and clicking language tickled his brain. Focusing, he realized they were everywhere, hidden in the darkness. But he knew they were not why Ruana tested him.
What else? asked the Akari.
Gilwyn paused. The whole sensation was pleasant but confusing. ‘I don’t feel anything,’ he said. ‘Just-’
A presence struck him like a wall. In the darkness moved something massive, far away but determined. Prowling, on the hunt. Unspeakably cold. There was no mistaking it.
‘A rass,’ he whispered.
The great snakes of the desert. Hooded like a cobra. Enemy to the kreel. The terror of their desert realm. Gilwyn had seen them hunting for kreel eggs in the twilight. He had even touched one’s mind. They were giants, with skulls like boulders and coiling, muscled bodies that could easily squeeze the life from his drowa. This one was far away, too far to catch his scent on its flicking tongue.
‘It doesn’t know we’re here,’ said Gilwyn, more than slightly relieved.
Remember the gift, Gilwyn. Speak with the beast.
The notion made Gilwyn recoil. ‘What? No. .’
Command it, Ruana insisted. You are its master. Make it believe.
‘Are there others?’ Gilwyn asked. He probed the desert looking for rass, frightened at the prospect of being surrounded.
Concentrate.
‘I am.’
No, you are not. You are afraid.
‘Ruana, if it senses us it might come looking for a meal.’
It will not, because you are its master.
Gilwyn laughed. ‘Does it know that?’
You must tell it so. Make it believe. Go deeper.
Gilwyn steeled himself, then touched the serpent’s mind again. The first time he had proved a rass had been months before, out in the kreel valley with Ghost. The encounter had drained and frightened him, and he had hoped never to do it again. Now, this new rass entered his brain. He could feel it hunting, slithering across the earth, its slivered eyes scanning the terrain, its tongue darting out to taste the air.
‘I can feel it,’ he said softly. ‘I can feel its mind.’
Slowly, he unlocked its brain. A carnal picture of the hunt appeared. The snake’s thinking filled Gilwyn, and when it noticed him it paused. Its great body ceased slithering. Its hooded head rose to look around. Confused, its leathery eyelids blinked.
It knows you’re here now, said Ruana.
Gilwyn nodded but could not speak. The serpent’s thoughts mesmerized him. He struggled to keep his distance, to keep the gleaming eyes from withering his resolve. Ruana forced him forward. He could feel her hand at his shoulder, comforting him.
It is afraid of you, she said. It cannot see you. It cannot smell you. Yet it knows you are here.
Gilwyn’s confidence crested. If the beast were afraid of him. .
He bored deeper into its brain, making himself known, allowing it to sense him fully.
You are powerful. .
‘Powerful,’ Gilwyn echoed. And as he said the word he believed it, making the rass believe it too. A shrinking sense of dominion overcame the serpent. Its ancient mind twisted. Gilwyn fixed his thoughts. Magically, unspoken words passed between them.
I am your master, he said. Do not come hunting here.
The effort made him shake. Holding their minds sapped his strength.
Know me, he continued. Know my presence.
He saw the serpent rear back, opening its fanged maw and hissing in anger. Hatred filled its tiny brain. Its rope-like tongue darted out to search for him, probing the night. Its muddled thinking startled Gilwyn.
He felt his control begin to slip. Ruana quickly bolstered him, thrusting him further toward the rass. The strength of the bond startled the snake, making it lower its glistening head.
It obeys, said Ruana. It knows you are its master, Gilwyn.
Gilwyn forced himself to continue, feeling every fibre of the creature, sensing every instinct. Its anger diminished, its hissing ebbed. The beast’s shining eyes calmed, watching the night for the thing it now feared.
‘What now?’ Gilwyn asked.
You may release it, Ruana replied. It will not hunt here now.
Slowly, Gilwyn let his grip slip away, drawing back across the dark sands. He opened his eyes, then felt the thunderous pounding of a headache. He felt exhausted, completely spent from the brief encounter. But he felt exhilarated, too.
‘Ruana,’ he said softly. ‘That was incredible.’
Ruana’s voice resounded with pride. You had done it before. You only need to practice.
‘It’s difficult,’ Gilwyn confessed. ‘I was afraid.’
I will never tell you to do something that you cannot do, Gilwyn. You need only trust me — and yourself.
The answer comforted Gilwyn. ‘I’m tired,’ he sighed.
Ruana’s reply was sweet. Sleep now. The rass will not harm you.
Gilwyn put the serpent from his mind, trusting Ruana. Within minutes he was asleep.
The next morning dawned as hotly as the one before.
Gilwyn did not bother breaking his fast in camp, but rather mounted his drowa early and resumed his long trek toward Ganjor. As he rode he took some flat bread from his bags to stem his hunger, washing it down with warm water from the skins that jangled off his saddle. The night’s sleep had energized him, and being more than halfway to Ganjor put bounce in his stance. Already his skin was beginning to itch beneath his headdress, and the stubble of a light beard irritated his face. He rubbed at the beard, wondering what White-Eye would think of it. Most Jadori men wore beards, a sign of virility and source of great pride, and since he had been Regent of Jador he thought a beard might be a good idea.
‘When I return, maybe,’ he said with confidence, sure suddenly that he would see White-Eye again.