Chapter 33. Lessons

ow, we never cut ourselves in this direction on this part of the arm,” Ebony said calmly, acting as if slicing oneself was the most natural thing in the world.  Pendaran watched the small sharp blade with the same degree of silent intensity as he had her demonstration of drawing a simple circle of protection.  If he was alarmed or scared, he hid it well.  His face was unreadable.

They were sitting across from one another within a chalked circle on the slates of her work room floor.  To make the first lesson more pleasant she had set out a pot of sweet smelling incense and the air was currently blurred with smoke.  The room was wrapped in flickering shadows, lit only by four thick candles at each cardinal point.  She had chosen evening so that she could send him to bed if he became overwrought and panicky. 

He was much older than most of her students and she felt a little ridiculous of considering ways to coddle him.  Obediently he held out his left arm, his fist balled, and received the knife from her.  Repeating her gestures perfectly, he uttered the incantation, but did so rapidly, the energies of the spell gathering swiftly as the blade kissed his skin and a thin rivulet of blood answered the call.  He touched her then, two fingers extended upon her shoulder and she felt the euphoric burn of his life energy pour into her. 

To her dismay, however, he withdrew before completing the rite, his head flung back and his face transfixed with a mixture of pain and delight.  Blood splattered thickly upon the slate.

“Pendaran!” she commanded, pulling him back so that his eyes snapped open and met hers, “Finish the spell or the wound will not seal.”

Finally his expression changed to something she recognized and expected.  He lowered his face in shame and uttered the final words, trembling now as the consequences of his actions took hold of his body.  She took his arm gently, ensuring there was no mark where the cut had been made, then slipped the knife from his slack fingers.  She rose quickly, his energies driving the stiffness from her old body.  She hastily retrieved a blanket from the counter and draped it around his bare shoulders.  From the counter, she grabbed a tray containing a covered tea pot, a jar of honey, a pair of cups and a sticky sweet bun and set it between them.

“Eat,” she said quietly, “The bread and honey will drive away the feeling of weakness.  Normally, you would want to perform this rite with some means of healing yourself or with a monk on hand.  I wanted you to experience it without healing support so that you will never do this while imperiled.”

The sweet hot rush of his energies faded from her body.  He had done everything perfectly up until he became caught up in the intensity of the ritual’s exquisite burst of pain.  He was ashamed of himself, as many of her students were when they confessed a strange pleasure in that element of the rite.  Among necromancers, it was often called Grenth’s bitter gift.  The ability to withstand pain in the course of channeling the energies of life and death was a necessary part of practicing Grenth’s art.

“Have you ever cut yourself merely to enjoy the pain?” she asked quietly, sensing there was a deeper reason for his shame.  They had talked little during their lessons, she felt a little awkward asking him something so personal, but she had to understand him if they were to progress quickly.

“I used to,” he murmured, “I won’t do that again.  I’m sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize. When did you start doing that?”

Pendaran hugged the blanket to his lean frame and shivered.  She removed the flower print tea cozy from the pot and poured him a measure of it, adding a large dollop of honey. 

“Drink this,” she said bluntly, worried now that he was resisting the things that would help him ground and recover.  His right hand emerged from the blanket and he took the offering grudgingly, wincing when he tasted it.

“It’s not a choice, it’s an order,” she said, gratified when he gulped it quickly and set the cup aside.  A little color returned to his cheeks, “Now please answer my question.”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past,” he replied quietly, “That is no longer who I am.”

Now she understood what Zhou had meant about his stubbornness and evasiveness.  Granted, there had been too little time for them to develop a bond of trust, but until that moment, he had been attentive and obedient.  Now he was shutting down and walling her off.

“My questions are not arbitrary, Master Kai.  I am trying to understand how best to teach you by understanding the reason behind your actions.  The past is behind you, but you are still the result of it.  Do you think I have never encountered a student who took pleasure in the intensity of the rite?  How do you think necromancers are capable of what they do?  Has it occurred to you that perhaps your true calling was to Grenth and not to Lyssa?”

That brought him to attention.  His beautiful face would have been spoiled by ritual scars, she decided, grinning to herself as he stared at her in horror.

“I am a mesmer,” he replied brusquely, “I do not doubt that Lyssa’s hand is upon me.”

“I think Grenth flicked you with one of his fingers for being stubborn.  Tell me what happened the first time you cut yourself and why.”

Pendaran lowered his face, shame coloring his cheeks.

“It was after the Searing.  I was in the employee of Lady Miruene.  She was a necromancer as were many of her clients.  I hated my job and it made me miserable and crazy, but the alternative was poverty and homelessness.  She kept me comfortable, bought me nice clothes, and praised my beauty.  Sometimes after an unpleasant job, I would hide in my room with her knife and cut myself until I could forget.”

He swallowed and grew quiet.  Ebony frowned and pushed aside the tray so that she could sit closer to him.  She took his unresisting hands into her lap.

“I’m sorry that happened,” she said calmly, “Master Bei never mentioned where you came from.”

“I suppose the fact that I am Tyrian is obvious,” Pendaran replied, still refusing to look at her.

“After the Searing, many refugees came to Elona.  I had a student from Rin.  He had lost everything.”

Pendaran shrugged.

“That’s the way it was.”

“Humans are resilient and can overcome the loss of a friend or family member, but to lose everyone at once and your home as well, that is unnatural.  Extreme calamity gives way to extreme means of coping.”

“I have grieved and I am done,” Pendaran said, resenting her pity.

“I see that, but you still carry shame about how you survived and today it got in the way of your lesson.”

He lifted his face at last and met her gaze.  So much pain.  It brought to mind all the beautiful young people she had trained and lost to war.  Her throat knotted, and she squeezed his fingers fondly before releasing them.

“What happened to the student from Rin?” he asked as she poured him another cup of tea, this time leaving out the honey.

“He was reckless,” she murmured, regretting that she had brought it up, “Before his training was finished, he went alone into the wilderness and let the creatures there devour him.”

“I’m sorry,” Pendaran said softly, “I suppose a lot of us who survived the Searing thought we might be better off dead with our loved ones.”

“In the face of tragedy we must find things to live for,” Ebony said.

Pendaran nodded, but the sadness had not left his face.  He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and grew silent.

“What were you going to say?”

“If I lose them…  I can’t take any more loss.”

Ebony heard the rawness of pain in his voice.

“Are you still separated from your wife?” Ebony asked gently, concerned for him.  She realized now that his mask of calm and evasiveness were used to conceal his frailty.

“Yes, I have my own room now.”

“Do you see each other now?”

“We dine together and she is present when I meet Mabane for lessons.”

Ebony was worried for him.  Now she understood why Zhou had asked her to look after him in the event that something terrible happened.  Pendaran tried to stifle a yawn.  It was late and the rite had tired him out.  She decided better of burdening him with more sadness before sleep.  Rising stiffly, she thanked him when he picked up the tray and carried it to the counter.  He retrieved his shirt from its peg on the wall and shrugged back into it, buttoning it in silence as she gathered up the candles from the floor and placed them beside the tea tray.  Without asking, he picked up the incense pot and smothered it with its lid.  Before she could intervene, he folded up the blanket and placed it back on the counter.

“Are you going to teach me banishing?” he asked quietly.

“Tomorrow,” she replied, “The moon is three days from new so it is an excellent time to learn.”

She opened the door to the sitting room and her cats dashed in, purring and rubbing against her legs possessively.  Pendaran smiled and knelt to stroke them.  To her surprise, Abbas let him do so without tearing his hand to ribbons.  Sheba, of course, loved the attention and thrust her blunt head against his hand until he rubbed her ears.

“Sheba has always been attracted to handsome men,” Ebony chuckled, “I bet she’d keep you company tonight.”

“I really shouldn’t,” he replied even as Sheba crawled up onto his shoulder and availed herself of his ear and temple with a raucous purr.

“I find cats to be very comforting after a rough day.  Go on and take her. I expect Abbas will be glad to have me all to himself.  If Sheba doesn’t like it, she’ll let you know.”

Pendaran smiled and rose, embracing her for the first time before departing with Sheba noisily purring on his shoulder.  Abbas yowled companionably at her.

“Yes, she’s a bit of a slave for attention, that Sheba, but even you could see Master Pen is hurting.”

Abbas flopped demonstratively onto his side and rolled onto his back expectantly until she rubbed his tawny fur with her toes.  Simple though they were her little lions had seen her through many dark nights.  Here in this moment, all was well with the world.  Sometimes that was the best a human could do.