“Never before have we known a power such as yours, Terril,” Deegor said from somewhere close behind me, really sounding ashamed and guilty. “It was not my intention to lead you to believe that the refusal about your mind was insulting to us, so that you would fail to replace it. One does not carry a supremely keen sword without a shielding scabbard, else is one likely to cause all manner of accidental harm and bloodshed. Had you felt free to again call up your denial, we none of us would have been touched.”
“And my lack of the least amount of control means naught, is that your belief?” I asked, wondering why they were trying to comfort me after what I’d done. “For others to allow leakage from their minds is mere lack of discipline; the same from me is unforgivable.”
“For the reason that you are so much better than others?” Leelan demanded, suddenly appearing to my right to look down at me. “Others are permitted error while you are not?”
“For the reason that I am so much stronger than others,” I corrected, knowing I deserved at the very least to be yelled at, but still finding her attitude difficult. “At one time I had control of what dwelt within me, was able to direct it as I willed, yet now—I will leave at once, of course, so that this cannot occur again.”
I lowered my head and tried to figure out where I could go, where I would find shelter from the rain until it got dark. I just wanted another minute in front of the fire before I got at it, but then I noticed that the people around me didn’t seem to be paying attention to that part of what I’d said.
“What control might there be of strength such as hers?” Siitil asked, almost in annoyance. “Even those of us without the power were affected by the thing.”
“And yet, Leelan was completely untouched,” Deegor said musingly. “And we must recall what was done to Hestin.”
“We must certainly recall what was done to Hestin,” Relgon said from my left, where she still crouched with an arm around me. “The healer was completely unharmed from her touch, and we, who stood beyond him, were no more than aware of what had been done. It failed to come to me at the time, and yet-for what reason were we not given what he was?”
“Perhaps Terril might speak answers to these questions,” Leelan said, sounding less angry than she had been. “Have you heard what was said, girl?”
“I heard,” I replied, taking a deep breath. I’d answer their questions and then I would go. “You, Leelan, were unharmed by my carelessness for the reason that I was aware of my anger and took care to keep it from you. Foolishly I had forgotten the others, and failed to take the same care with them. As for Hestin-for what reason should any other have been affected? It was him I meant to touch, and him alone. To touch others as well would have been—”
“Undisciplined,” Relgon finished softly while I groped for a word, everyone else standing in a heavy silence. They were reacting to what I’d said in a way I didn’t understand, and then Siitil laughed a short, incredulous laugh.
“She is able to direct her strength,” the young woman said, sounding as though she were trying to believe something too good to be true. “She is able to touch or keep from touching one out of many! By the mother of us all, she has the power of control!”
“Of all but myself,” I said aloud, although it would have been easier keeping something like that private. “And now I will take my leave to . . . .”
“Leave?” Leelan barked, back to being angry. “You would repay my hospitality by leaving us now?”
“What would be more fitting repayment?” I asked in confusion, finally looking up at her blazing eyes. “Am I to remain here in gratitude, and next time fell twice the number?”
“I believe there has been enough of such talk,” Relgon said briskly from my left, tapping my arm once before beginning to urge me to my feet. “It occurs to me, Terril, that you have most often found yourself among those without the power. Am I correct?”
“What has that to do with . . .” I began in even deeper confusion, rising from my knees at Relgon’s urging, but she shook her head and interrupted me.
“I have no need to hear further upon the matter of your terrible, conscienceless failing,” she said, still brisk and even a bit impatient. “We will all of us sit and speak in comfort, as those who are grown rather than as wailing children. Come this way.”
She began leading me to a place on the carpeting where clean pillows had been put, a place closer to the fire than the original one had been. I could understand that no one wanted to sit down again where so much wine had been spilled, but what I couldn’t understand was what was going on. The rest of the women in the group looked more amused than angry or frightened, and even Siitil seemed more impatient than anything else. Relgon wasn’t as big as Leelan but she was still larger than I, and I really did feel like a child among grown-ups.
“Sit here,” Relgon ordered when we got among the cushions, helping out by pressing me downward. “Leelan, I believe we would all do well with wine, to replace what was so unfortunately lost.”
“It comes now,” Leelan answered, gesturing toward the three servants who were entering. One girl carried a tray of goblets and another two filled pitchers; the third was a man, and he carried a single goblet and pitcher. The girls went to the other guests who were seating themselves, handing out goblets and filling them, but the man came directly to me. By then I knew what was in the pitcher he carried, but was feeling too down to do more than take the goblet of juice when it was given to me.
“And now we may continue,” Relgon said when the servants had finished and were leaving the room. “I have no doubt that all of you here feel as I do, yet must the thing be said aloud for Terril’s sake. What occurred here a few moments earlier, the pain and discomfort we were given-this occurred for the reason that Terril wished us ill, did it not?”
“Certainly not!” one of the women said at once, her outraged voice rising above the instant hubbub of the others to startle me. “Had she wished us ill, we would likely no longer be among the living!”
“Then it was done for the reason that she is inept, and should not be the possessor of so great a power,” Relgon pursued, also needing to raise her voice.
“Which of us has the choice of what power we will have?” Siitil asked with a snort of ridicule, swallowing her wine. “One does what one is able to do—and to learn to touch a single mind among many others is far from my concept of one who is inept.”
“Then this wenda who sits beside me is evil,” Relgon said among the murmurs of agreement with Siitil’s comments. “She carelessly gave pain and cared naught for the doing.”
“In no manner is she the same as Farian,” Leelan said from my right, her voice flat with conviction, her eyes filled with annoyance. “The pain she received was greater than what she gave, a clear sign of a sense of honor-most especially as what was given was accidental.”
“Then there was naught to forgive,” Relgon said, reaching out to turn my face to her and away from Leelan, whom I’d been staring at. “Those without the power, those who have no concept of its existence, cannot know the agony of its possession to one of honor. We, too, have at times given uncalled-for hurt to others, and have felt as you do. Had we not felt so, we would have been as low and despicable as Farian, a thing, happily, we none of us are. Are you able to understand, girl? To feel upset is commendable, to wallow in guilt no more than childish.”
She was looking at me soberly and directly, waiting for an answer of some sort, but I couldn’t think of what to say. She wasn’t condoning my stupidity; it was as though she were sharing it, and I seemed to remember hearing something along the same lines from Dallan about the guilt I felt. Back at the creche on Central I’d been taught that there was absolutely no excuse for using my abilities when I shouldn’t, and the memory of that training kept rising up to confuse me. I might have sat there for hours and days, simply staring at Relgon, but Siitil was too impatient to allow prolonged silences.