L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

Taryl frowned. "They have it mixed up. It's a rare ability, but some mages can use a glass to see events at a distance. Once it was said only chaos-mages had the talent, but a few ordermages have shown that ability, but it's said they do it differently. I wouldn't know." He smiled. "Like all ambitious young mages, I tried it, but never had any success. As for sensing what others feel, some mages who are consorted develop that closeness. There supposedly is a way to force such a link, and the legends say that it was done to Creslin and Megaera-you should know about that."

"It's not mentioned in any of the readings or the legends, and none of the magisters said anything about it," Rahl replied carefully.

"The more I hear about what they don't teach, the more I have to wonder how long the isle will remain strong." Taryl snorted.

"The engineers teach more, but they're not…" Rahl didn't really want to finish that sentence.

"Yes? What?"

"They only see things their way, and if you ask questions that don't fit, they get unhappy."

Taryl laughed. "That describes most people in most lands. We all want things our way."

"You were talking about that link…"

"I don't know how it could be accomplished, nor do I wish to know that, nor would any honest mage ever want to wreak such violence on another. It could kill both parties."

"Was that why they died young?"

"It could be. It also could be that they were so linked that one could not survive the other's death." Taryl used a cloth to blot his face.

"What plans do you have for me for tomorrow?"

"Not that many." Taryl smiled. "But you'll need to pack all your gear tonight. We'll be leaving headquarters right after breakfast and traveling to quarters at the High Command. But don't forget to practice with trying to see the weather. I'll expect a report while we're traveling tomorrow."

"Yes, ser." Rahl had forgotten about the weather exercises, although he had actually managed to order-lift one of the tiny iron cubes rather than just to push it across a smooth surface.

After leaving Taryl, Rahl walked up the narrow steps that led to the small stone-walled platform above the quarters wing. It was late enough that he doubted anyone would be on the platform, and it was easier for him to sense what little he could about the weather when he was outside. He thought it might be easier yet if he were higher. Taryl had only mentioned the platform, but it was no secret, and he'd seen others using the steps.

The door that opened onto the platform was secured only by a latch. Rahl paused, letting his order-senses extend out beyond the closed door, but there was no one on the platform. He opened the door and stepped into the night.

The evening air was still-cool and heavy. The slightest hint of a breeze wafted across his face, coming from the east-northeast. Rahl walked to the stone balustrade on the north side of the platform-a space no more than six cubits on a side-and faced into the light breath of air. He stood there, not so much concentrating as letting his order-senses be one with the air, trying to feel the dispersed water in it, and the various patterns that it created.

More to the east, over the Swarth River, there was a greater feel of water in the air, and beyond that, much higher in the sky, there was even more. He almost laughed. There were clouds there that he could make out because they blocked the stars, and he certainly didn't need order-sensing to determine where there were clouds he could see.

Were there clouds beyond the ones he could see?

He tried to let his order-senses feel what lay beyond the nearer clouds, and while he had a feeling of more water in the air, he could not be certain. Slowly, he let his senses range across the skies, moving slowly around the platform as he did. In the end the only dampness in the air near Cigoerne seemed to be that to the northeast, but he had no idea whether that meant rain, although he thought he had felt some motion toward the city.

When he felt he could do no more, he left the platform, but he was careful to latch the upper door behind him. As he walked down the stone steps toward his single room, he thought about the weather. Taryl had said that weather was nothing more than heat and water. People and animals and everything that lived held some water. Rahl didn't know how much, but there had to be some. And most land, except the deserts, held water. So did most air. So… if he could sense weather, at a distance, why couldn't he sense other things? Even sense them with a glass the way Taryl said some mages could?

The second-level corridor to his room was empty, although it didn't seem all that late to him, but it could be that many of the mage-guards were at the Staff and Blade. Abruptly, Rahl had to wonder what had changed. When he'd been an apprentice scrivener, he couldn't wait to go out, either to play plaques with Sevien or just to share talk and redberry or ale. Now, it didn't seem that important.

Once he was back in his room, he slid the door bolt into place, then took the mirror off the wall and laid it flat on the small writing table. He sat down at the table and looked down at the mirror. His own face looked back at him.

What should he do? How did one look for someone or something? Whom could he seek out? It should be someone he knew, but not a greater mage-guard. That might be embarrassing, or even dangerous. He also did not think it wise to seek anyone who might encounter him casually.

Idly, he wondered what Edelya was doing. Then he let his order-senses reach for an image of what he recalled of the blond mage-guard.

The glass silvered, and fog seemed to swirl somewhere beneath the shimmering surface. Slowly, a face appeared in the center of the glass, wreathed in fog, a sleeping face. Abruptly, Edelya's eyes flew open, and a look of fear appeared, and her mouth opened as if she would scream.

Rahl was so startled by her reaction that he released all his order-hold on the glass. It was just a mirror once more. He found he was breathing faster, and he was slightly light-headed. He didn't want to lose the feeling of what he had done, but he certainly didn't want to try to look at anyone-or not another mage. It was clear that Edelya had felt something. Could all mages sense being seen through screeing?

After resting for several moments, Rahl decided just to see if he could view the platform from where he'd sought out the weather. This time, he tried to visualize looking eastward toward the scattered lights of Cigoerne. Once more, the glass silvered over, then showed swirling mists, and slowly, indistinctly, an image emerged, foglike, but clear, showing a section of the ring road and the Northern Boulevard, stretching eastward.

Rahl could feel himself getting light-headed, and he tried to relax, not to use so much effort. That seemed to help, but he could still feel the strain, as well as the sweat beginning to roll down the sides of his face. He stopped, and found he needed to take several deep breaths.

Had he succeeded? Or had he imagined it? He looked down more closely at the mirror. A thin line of frost ran around the outside edge of the glass. He touched the glass there. It was so cold that for a moment, it felt like he'd burned his fingertip. He'd definitely done something.

Rahl smiled. Perhaps… just perhaps… if he practiced.. if he worked at it… he might be able to obtain a glimpse of Deybri.

He wiped his forehead and blinked. A white oblong caught his eye-the still-unsent letter to Deybri. He smiled, if but for a moment.

Taryl-and the ancient poet-had both mentioned, if in different ways, that consorted mages could develop a link. Was that what he felt with Deybri?

He shook his head. That sort of thing only happened in legends and ancient poems. Anyway, it was just wistful thinking. Or dangerous thinking. Or both. Would he want someone, even someone as warm as Deybri, knowing his every feeling? Yet why did he feel so much for her? It hadn't been like that with any other girl-or woman. But… what use was there in pursuing such thoughts? No matter how accomplished he became with order-skills, none of the magisters would let him return to Recluce. In fact, he suspected that the more accomplished he became, the less likely they would be to allow him to return.