Tibs opened his eyes with a gasp, but didn’t immediately see his teacher, he was still focused on what he now felt. The void was still there, but his essence no longer ‘flowed’ over it. His reserve was a layer, thin, but unmoving. He focused his gaze down on his hand and coated it with a sheen of water. He sensed his reserve diminish, the layer become so thin as to be non existent. He stopped. He brought the water to his palm, made it into a ball—more of a marble—made it into ice, and threw it to the side.
He felt the loss of his essence, but not the accompanying exhaustion. It was more wariness warning him he shouldn’t do this again until his reserve replenished itself. But now he could stand if he wanted, walk around, run, even fight. The tiredness hadn’t been physical, it was… essencial?
“I see you understand,” Alistair said.
Tibs snorted. “It still makes no sense, but I do understand that doesn’t matter; it’s how this works. I also ‘see’ how much essence I have; I don’t have much.”
“I suspected that was the core of your issue. Because of how arduous getting to the point of graduating is, only older people normally attempt it, even outside of the dungeons. We’ve never studied if there’s a minimum age at which it can’t happen, you seem to indicate there is, or at least that below a certain age having essence is more difficult.”
Alistair was wrong. Tibs didn’t know if there was a minimum age, but he wasn’t indicative of that. He felt the void ‘below’ his reserve. He couldn’t tell how large it was, but it was substantially vaster than that of his essence. This was because of the choice he’d made, part of the cost he was paying. It was also a reminder he needed to find a way to get an audience with one of the other elements.
“We still have a little time before we have to return,” Alistair said, “do you feel able to continue?”
Tibs frowned. “How long did this take?”
“Most of the afternoon.”
Tibs stared at his teacher. He couldn’t be right. He’d only imagined himself within the lake for… well, not the whole afternoon. Alistair looked at him expectantly, so Tibs felt his reserve. The advantage of having little was that it refilled quickly. He nodded.
“I want you to extend that awareness of the essence within you to that which is outside of you. I want you to sense the essence of the water permeating the air around you. It’s easier to do that here because we’re closer to the source.”
“Is that the rumble I can hear?”
“The waterfall? No, that’s more a consequence of its proximity.”
Water fall? Tibs listen to it and he could see it being a lot of water falling together.
He closed his eyes and imagined his reserve. This time, unlike the lake, he stood over a clear surface and knew that his reserve was below that, with the void below it. He knelt and touched it and understood that gap was what was left until his essence refilled completely. It had felt full to him, but there was still a little to go.
He called to the essence, and it moved to his hand, passing through the gap. Once in his hand, he stood and studied what he held. It wasn’t water, it was essence, but what did it mean? What did it feel like? He searched for the right word to describe it, but he didn’t have them or, he suspected, they didn’t exist. Instead, he kept returning to rough approximations of what he thought they should be, like moist, misty, wet, humid.
He knew they were wrong, but they would have to do. He let the essence fall through his fingers and back into the reserve. He kept the words in mind, focused on the sensation they evoked, and pushed that outward, searching for it outside of his mind, of his body.
He felt something, and as he focused to determine if it had the right sense, it vanished. Again it came, and again, by the time he could focus his attention on it, it was gone. Time and time again this happened. As if it purposely teased him. One of the alley cats curious about him but never willing to let him catch sight of it.
The next time he felt it, he did with it what he’d done with the alley cat, he let it be. He remained aware of it, but didn’t try to catch it or even see details, he simply was aware, and his sense of it increased. Like the alley cat, he thought to it, tried to get it to come closer. Unlike the alley cat, the essence did something.
“Good.”
Tibs startled and glared at the grinning Alistair.
“How? How did you know?”
“I can sense the essence around us too. When you became aware of it, you tried to exert your will on it, but you were too forceful. Just right now I felt you pull on it.”
“And you made me lose the sense.”
Alistair chuckled. “You’ll have to learn to sense it while being distracted.”
“Okay, so what do I do with it once I can move it?”
“Right now, nothing.” Alistair stood and helped Tibs. His legs creaked like he imagined old people did. He had trouble walking until the sensation came back to them. “It’s going to be a few days until I can teach you again, so you’ll have the time to practice sensing the essence around you. Oh, don’t mention this to your team, certainly not anyone outside of them. Tirania can’t complain about me breaking protocol for you, but as I said, this is something awaiting them once they reach Rho. She won’t be happy if you teach others, and you don’t have the protection my time as part of the guild affords me.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t like Tibs understood what they were doing. If his friends tried it, would they see a pool of earth? Wood, what would someone with air see their pool as?
As they approached the platform, Tibs realized this was the last of the time where he was sure they were alone. Once in that room, there would be one of the assistants in the gold robe.
“Alistair.” He took his teacher’s arm and stopped. “If you could have, knowing what you do now, would you have destroyed the guild when you were younger? Before it was all you knew?”
The look Alistair gave him was stern, and Tibs thought he’d crossed a line. Asked about one of those things others said ‘wasn’t meant to be known.’
“Knowing what I do now?”
Tibs nodded, relaxing.
Alistair shook his head. “The guild is needed, Tibs. It brings order. Before it, chaos and war ruled the realms, each king fighting for possession of the dungeons, wanting more of them, wanting more lands, more of, well, everything. With control of the dungeons, the guild can enforce a level of peace. If it were to vanish, chaos would return and I believe that is worse than anything the guild does.” He placed a hand on Tibs shoulder. “I do understand your anger, and I commend you for the control you’ve shown, but destruction isn’t the answer. It never is. It’s possible to enact change, Tibs, I truly believe that, but not by tearing everything down.”
Tibs searched his teacher’s face. He’d been so certain he would have agreed with his thoughts; he knew more of the wrong things the guild did. He saw honesty there, as always. He believed Alistair, and that confused him. If his plan to destroy the guild was wrong; if destroying it would make things worse, then how could he make them pay for Walter’s death?
He resumed walking, lost in his thoughts, in his conflicting emotions. He barely noticed stepping onto the platform, the assistant stepping next to them, then he was in a dryer place, but it was still dark.
He looked around. They were back in the town, so how could it be night? He located Claria, slowly climbing over the buildings, looking higher, Torus was past its zenith, it’s constant crescent aimed to the east. Back home, on his street, this meant a few hours past full sundown, but when Alistair had last mentioned time it was late afternoon. How had the exercises taken so much time?
Another thing occurred to Tibs. This was harvest festival season, the nights should be cool, sometimes cold, he’d lost track of how far within the season they were, but the air was still warm. How was that possible? He turned to ask Alistair, but his teacher had left while he was lost in thoughts.
The woman in the gold robe looked at him, her expression calm. He could ask her, but he didn’t want to risk exposing his ignorance if this was something everyone else knew. Alistair would answer without judgment, Tibs had no idea what this woman would do.
He ran to find his teacher but gave up after a few minutes as exhaustion caught up to him, and headed for a cot.
* * * * *
Tibs moved through the crowd, which was now thin enough that if he tried picking a pocket, someone would notice. He was returning from the run where he’d filled in for a missing member and had found himself with Don. He’d forgotten about the sorcerer until he saw that sneer.
It hadn’t been a pleasant run. Tibs did his part, and received the minimum of abuse from the sorcerer. His eyes were some strange color that made Tibs feel sick when he looked at them too long, and Don seemed to enjoyed causing that to happen. The man didn’t like anyone except the fighter who was one of those people who bent under anyone’s boot.
Somehow they didn’t just make it to the room with the golem, but Don decided to try to kill it, turning back only once the archer was cut down by the golem’s whip and the fighter died rushing it. Don blamed everyone for their failure, especially the fighter. Tibs left the group as soon as they were outside. Don hadn’t let him hold the coins and he didn’t want to stay with them to find out if they’d get to keep any.
What he wanted to do was find someone from his team and tell them what he’d seen, orders to the contrary be damned. They were his team, he wasn’t waiting until they were in the dungeon, he wanted them to be ready for it.
He found Jackal in the mess tent, of all places. With the tavern and inns and Runners having coins, few people made use of it anymore. “Jackal,” He called as he approached. The fighter looked tired and like he’d been in a fight Tibs wasn’t sure he’d won. Jackal pushed the bowl of slop away from him; as if he hoped Tibs hadn’t noticed it there.
He sat and decided not to draw attention to it. “Are you okay?”
“Training,” the fighter said after a moment of hesitation, then forced a smile. “Unlike you, that means I get punched if I’m not fast enough.” His face darkened. “Today wasn’t a good day for me.” He touched a bruise on his face. How bad had it been that he hadn’t received a healing potion at the end? Had he pissed off the teacher?
“How about we go to the Inn for some real food?”
Jackal glanced at the barely touched bowl. “I can’t. I… I did something stupid.” He touched the bruise again. Maybe it hadn’t been training, as the fighter claimed. “It’s slop for me until my next run.”
Tibs looked at the bowl, considered having one to keep his friend company while they talked, and found he couldn’t stand even the idea of eating the stuff anymore. “I’ll pay for it. Do you know where Zarkane is? I think she needs to hear this too.”
Jackal reached across the table and placed a hand on Tibs’s arm. He knew what was coming even before the words or the change in expression. “I’m sorry, Tibs. I found out from our merchant earlier today. She didn’t make it out of her last run.”
He swallowed the pain, felt his eyes sting, and wiped away the forming tears. He’d known it was coming. It would always come; death would never stop. But he wouldn’t let that stop him.
“I’ll be okay,” he told his friend and forced a smile,” but now I really need a tankard.”
* * * * *
The meal was quieter than Tibs wanted. The inn’s common room wasn’t crowded, so they could talk about anything if they felt like talking, but Zarkane’s death had taken away his enthusiasm.
“Tibs, can I—”
“Hey, Jackal, how are you doing?” the server asked, placing a tankard before the fighter. “Shit, what happened to you?”
“I lost a fight.” He looked at the tankard. “Kroseph, I can’t afford it. I’m out of coins.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to pay for it, Jackal, come on. This is my way of saying thank you for last night.”
“Then you’re welcome for that, and thank you for this.” The fighter drained half the tankard in one swallow.
“Must have been one bad fight,” the server said. He turned to Tibs. “I’m Kroseph, the owner’s youngest, which means I’m stuck serving, instead of working the kitchen.”
“Tibs, I’m on Jackal’s team.”
“You didn’t tell me you had an actual team. Go you. And here you kept going on about how you were doomed to end up alone because—”
“Please stop,” Jackal said. “The stuff I tell you then really isn’t meant to be shared.”
“Sorry, team and all, I figured he knew, although you seem young, Tibs.”
Tibs shrugged. “The guards didn’t seem to care when they threw me in a cell. The people here don’t either anytime they send me in a dungeon. I figure I’m old enough.”
Kroseph winced. “Oh, you have a barb for a tongue.” He grinned. “But I did deserve it.” He patted Jackal’s shoulder. “I need to get back to work before pop starts complaining, since it’s quiet, the server does the washing too. Do you want me to bring you another one?”
Jackal considered the offer, then shook his head. “I’m good.”
“Oh, I know,” Kroseph whispered before leaving.
“Sorry,” Jackal said. “Enthusiasm is one of his defining traits.”
“Are you from the same city?”
“No, I met him here. We became friends over missing our cities, but not the families we left behind, and it turns out we share other interests.”
Tibs nodded. “You started saying something before he got here.”
“I have a question for you, but it’s personal.”
Tibs shrugged. He couldn’t think of anything so personal Jackal wouldn’t be comfortable just asking. “Sure.”
“What was your audience like?”
Except maybe that. “Are we even allowed to talk about it?”
“It’s not like I can make use of what you tell me. Water isn’t going to see me even if I work out where it was.”
“Wasn’t yours in a room after a stone hall, with a waterfall?”
“No. They took us to a field, someplace ceremonial by all the obelisk and marking on them.”
“If you can’t use it, why do you want to know?” Tibs asked, wondering why he didn’t think to ask Jackal about his audience before. He should find people from all the elements and ask how to go about meeting them.
“Curiosity. Of the five who went to our audience at the same time, only two of us returned. I haven’t worked up the nerve to ask her how it went for her, considering she looked in as rough a shape as I felt, but I’m wondering if the audience with Water was as rough as mine with earth, or if I just managed to catch him on a bad day and didn’t make a good impression.”
“Wouldn’t you have died if that was true?”
“I’d like to say Earth is patient enough he’d rather see you suffer for your entire life than kill you there, but as I said, three of us didn’t come back, so he must have liked me, but he could have been happier about it.” Jackal grinned. “I have to say I picked right, I’m not in a hurry either. But someone has got to tell him it shouldn’t take hours to form words. It took forever.”
“It was rough for me too. It felt like I was drowning until I was wherever I went. After that, it was fine. Water is patient, but she isn’t slow. She waited for me to work things out. Never made me feel like I was too slow. She’s not slow, or hard, which I think is what you described Earth as. She wasn’t easy either; she’s understanding.” He hesitated, then asked anyway. “How was the transition there and back?”
Jackal scraped the last of the meat juices off the plate with the last chunk of bread he had. “I was kneeling there, my trainer’s hand on my shoulder, gripping it hard, like she was the only thing keeping me in place. Which she might have been because once she let go, it was like a mountain fell on me. I don’t even remember falling to the ground, I could breathe, but I couldn’t move. Forget a mountain. The entire world was pressing down on me. The weight never went away, but then I was standing and Earth was there and very slowly asked me what I wanted. Then we spoke, and it felt like I was being looked down on. Like I was trying to go too fast.”
“And coming back?”
Jackal shook his head. “You aren’t going to believe me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I had to get used to a dungeon that changes stuff around. I had my own audience. Why do you think I won’t believe how yours ended?”
“How did yours end?”
“I was back in the room retching water.”
Jackal nodded. “I had to dig myself out from under the ground.”
Tibs opened his eyes with a gasp, but didn’t immediately see his teacher, he was still focused on what he now felt. The void was still there, but his essence no longer ‘flowed’ over it. His reserve was a layer, thin, but unmoving. He focused his gaze down on his hand and coated it with a sheen of water. He sensed his reserve diminish, the layer become so thin as to be non existent. He stopped. He brought the water to his palm, made it into a ball—more of a marble—made it into ice, and threw it to the side.
He felt the loss of his essence, but not the accompanying exhaustion. It was more wariness warning him he shouldn’t do this again until his reserve replenished itself. But now he could stand if he wanted, walk around, run, even fight. The tiredness hadn’t been physical, it was… essencial?
“I see you understand,” Alistair said.
Tibs snorted. “It still makes no sense, but I do understand that doesn’t matter; it’s how this works. I also ‘see’ how much essence I have; I don’t have much.”
“I suspected that was the core of your issue. Because of how arduous getting to the point of graduating is, only older people normally attempt it, even outside of the dungeons. We’ve never studied if there’s a minimum age at which it can’t happen, you seem to indicate there is, or at least that below a certain age having essence is more difficult.”
Alistair was wrong. Tibs didn’t know if there was a minimum age, but he wasn’t indicative of that. He felt the void ‘below’ his reserve. He couldn’t tell how large it was, but it was substantially vaster than that of his essence. This was because of the choice he’d made, part of the cost he was paying. It was also a reminder he needed to find a way to get an audience with one of the other elements.
“We still have a little time before we have to return,” Alistair said, “do you feel able to continue?”
Tibs frowned. “How long did this take?”
“Most of the afternoon.”
Tibs stared at his teacher. He couldn’t be right. He’d only imagined himself within the lake for… well, not the whole afternoon. Alistair looked at him expectantly, so Tibs felt his reserve. The advantage of having little was that it refilled quickly. He nodded.
“I want you to extend that awareness of the essence within you to that which is outside of you. I want you to sense the essence of the water permeating the air around you. It’s easier to do that here because we’re closer to the source.”
“Is that the rumble I can hear?”
“The waterfall? No, that’s more a consequence of its proximity.”
Water fall? Tibs listen to it and he could see it being a lot of water falling together.
He closed his eyes and imagined his reserve. This time, unlike the lake, he stood over a clear surface and knew that his reserve was below that, with the void below it. He knelt and touched it and understood that gap was what was left until his essence refilled completely. It had felt full to him, but there was still a little to go.
He called to the essence, and it moved to his hand, passing through the gap. Once in his hand, he stood and studied what he held. It wasn’t water, it was essence, but what did it mean? What did it feel like? He searched for the right word to describe it, but he didn’t have them or, he suspected, they didn’t exist. Instead, he kept returning to rough approximations of what he thought they should be, like moist, misty, wet, humid.
He knew they were wrong, but they would have to do. He let the essence fall through his fingers and back into the reserve. He kept the words in mind, focused on the sensation they evoked, and pushed that outward, searching for it outside of his mind, of his body.
He felt something, and as he focused to determine if it had the right sense, it vanished. Again it came, and again, by the time he could focus his attention on it, it was gone. Time and time again this happened. As if it purposely teased him. One of the alley cats curious about him but never willing to let him catch sight of it.
The next time he felt it, he did with it what he’d done with the alley cat, he let it be. He remained aware of it, but didn’t try to catch it or even see details, he simply was aware, and his sense of it increased. Like the alley cat, he thought to it, tried to get it to come closer. Unlike the alley cat, the essence did something.
“Good.”
Tibs startled and glared at the grinning Alistair.
“How? How did you know?”
“I can sense the essence around us too. When you became aware of it, you tried to exert your will on it, but you were too forceful. Just right now I felt you pull on it.”
“And you made me lose the sense.”
Alistair chuckled. “You’ll have to learn to sense it while being distracted.”
“Okay, so what do I do with it once I can move it?”
“Right now, nothing.” Alistair stood and helped Tibs. His legs creaked like he imagined old people did. He had trouble walking until the sensation came back to them. “It’s going to be a few days until I can teach you again, so you’ll have the time to practice sensing the essence around you. Oh, don’t mention this to your team, certainly not anyone outside of them. Tirania can’t complain about me breaking protocol for you, but as I said, this is something awaiting them once they reach Rho. She won’t be happy if you teach others, and you don’t have the protection my time as part of the guild affords me.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t like Tibs understood what they were doing. If his friends tried it, would they see a pool of earth? Wood, what would someone with air see their pool as?
As they approached the platform, Tibs realized this was the last of the time where he was sure they were alone. Once in that room, there would be one of the assistants in the gold robe.
“Alistair.” He took his teacher’s arm and stopped. “If you could have, knowing what you do now, would you have destroyed the guild when you were younger? Before it was all you knew?”
The look Alistair gave him was stern, and Tibs thought he’d crossed a line. Asked about one of those things others said ‘wasn’t meant to be known.’
“Knowing what I do now?”
Tibs nodded, relaxing.
Alistair shook his head. “The guild is needed, Tibs. It brings order. Before it, chaos and war ruled the realms, each king fighting for possession of the dungeons, wanting more of them, wanting more lands, more of, well, everything. With control of the dungeons, the guild can enforce a level of peace. If it were to vanish, chaos would return and I believe that is worse than anything the guild does.” He placed a hand on Tibs shoulder. “I do understand your anger, and I commend you for the control you’ve shown, but destruction isn’t the answer. It never is. It’s possible to enact change, Tibs, I truly believe that, but not by tearing everything down.”
Tibs searched his teacher’s face. He’d been so certain he would have agreed with his thoughts; he knew more of the wrong things the guild did. He saw honesty there, as always. He believed Alistair, and that confused him. If his plan to destroy the guild was wrong; if destroying it would make things worse, then how could he make them pay for Walter’s death?
He resumed walking, lost in his thoughts, in his conflicting emotions. He barely noticed stepping onto the platform, the assistant stepping next to them, then he was in a dryer place, but it was still dark.
He looked around. They were back in the town, so how could it be night? He located Claria, slowly climbing over the buildings, looking higher, Torus was past its zenith, it’s constant crescent aimed to the east. Back home, on his street, this meant a few hours past full sundown, but when Alistair had last mentioned time it was late afternoon. How had the exercises taken so much time?
Another thing occurred to Tibs. This was harvest festival season, the nights should be cool, sometimes cold, he’d lost track of how far within the season they were, but the air was still warm. How was that possible? He turned to ask Alistair, but his teacher had left while he was lost in thoughts.
The woman in the gold robe looked at him, her expression calm. He could ask her, but he didn’t want to risk exposing his ignorance if this was something everyone else knew. Alistair would answer without judgment, Tibs had no idea what this woman would do.
He ran to find his teacher but gave up after a few minutes as exhaustion caught up to him, and headed for a cot.
* * * * *
Tibs moved through the crowd, which was now thin enough that if he tried picking a pocket, someone would notice. He was returning from the run where he’d filled in for a missing member and had found himself with Don. He’d forgotten about the sorcerer until he saw that sneer.
It hadn’t been a pleasant run. Tibs did his part, and received the minimum of abuse from the sorcerer. His eyes were some strange color that made Tibs feel sick when he looked at them too long, and Don seemed to enjoyed causing that to happen. The man didn’t like anyone except the fighter who was one of those people who bent under anyone’s boot.
Somehow they didn’t just make it to the room with the golem, but Don decided to try to kill it, turning back only once the archer was cut down by the golem’s whip and the fighter died rushing it. Don blamed everyone for their failure, especially the fighter. Tibs left the group as soon as they were outside. Don hadn’t let him hold the coins and he didn’t want to stay with them to find out if they’d get to keep any.
What he wanted to do was find someone from his team and tell them what he’d seen, orders to the contrary be damned. They were his team, he wasn’t waiting until they were in the dungeon, he wanted them to be ready for it.
He found Jackal in the mess tent, of all places. With the tavern and inns and Runners having coins, few people made use of it anymore. “Jackal,” He called as he approached. The fighter looked tired and like he’d been in a fight Tibs wasn’t sure he’d won. Jackal pushed the bowl of slop away from him; as if he hoped Tibs hadn’t noticed it there.
He sat and decided not to draw attention to it. “Are you okay?”
“Training,” the fighter said after a moment of hesitation, then forced a smile. “Unlike you, that means I get punched if I’m not fast enough.” His face darkened. “Today wasn’t a good day for me.” He touched a bruise on his face. How bad had it been that he hadn’t received a healing potion at the end? Had he pissed off the teacher?
“How about we go to the Inn for some real food?”
Jackal glanced at the barely touched bowl. “I can’t. I… I did something stupid.” He touched the bruise again. Maybe it hadn’t been training, as the fighter claimed. “It’s slop for me until my next run.”
Tibs looked at the bowl, considered having one to keep his friend company while they talked, and found he couldn’t stand even the idea of eating the stuff anymore. “I’ll pay for it. Do you know where Zarkane is? I think she needs to hear this too.”
Jackal reached across the table and placed a hand on Tibs’s arm. He knew what was coming even before the words or the change in expression. “I’m sorry, Tibs. I found out from our merchant earlier today. She didn’t make it out of her last run.”
He swallowed the pain, felt his eyes sting, and wiped away the forming tears. He’d known it was coming. It would always come; death would never stop. But he wouldn’t let that stop him.
“I’ll be okay,” he told his friend and forced a smile,” but now I really need a tankard.”
* * * * *
The meal was quieter than Tibs wanted. The inn’s common room wasn’t crowded, so they could talk about anything if they felt like talking, but Zarkane’s death had taken away his enthusiasm.
“Tibs, can I—”
“Hey, Jackal, how are you doing?” the server asked, placing a tankard before the fighter. “Shit, what happened to you?”
“I lost a fight.” He looked at the tankard. “Kroseph, I can’t afford it. I’m out of coins.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to pay for it, Jackal, come on. This is my way of saying thank you for last night.”
“Then you’re welcome for that, and thank you for this.” The fighter drained half the tankard in one swallow.
“Must have been one bad fight,” the server said. He turned to Tibs. “I’m Kroseph, the owner’s youngest, which means I’m stuck serving, instead of working the kitchen.”
“Tibs, I’m on Jackal’s team.”
“You didn’t tell me you had an actual team. Go you. And here you kept going on about how you were doomed to end up alone because—”
“Please stop,” Jackal said. “The stuff I tell you then really isn’t meant to be shared.”
“Sorry, team and all, I figured he knew, although you seem young, Tibs.”
Tibs shrugged. “The guards didn’t seem to care when they threw me in a cell. The people here don’t either anytime they send me in a dungeon. I figure I’m old enough.”
Kroseph winced. “Oh, you have a barb for a tongue.” He grinned. “But I did deserve it.” He patted Jackal’s shoulder. “I need to get back to work before pop starts complaining, since it’s quiet, the server does the washing too. Do you want me to bring you another one?”
Jackal considered the offer, then shook his head. “I’m good.”
“Oh, I know,” Kroseph whispered before leaving.
“Sorry,” Jackal said. “Enthusiasm is one of his defining traits.”
“Are you from the same city?”
“No, I met him here. We became friends over missing our cities, but not the families we left behind, and it turns out we share other interests.”
Tibs nodded. “You started saying something before he got here.”
“I have a question for you, but it’s personal.”
Tibs shrugged. He couldn’t think of anything so personal Jackal wouldn’t be comfortable just asking. “Sure.”
“What was your audience like?”
Except maybe that. “Are we even allowed to talk about it?”
“It’s not like I can make use of what you tell me. Water isn’t going to see me even if I work out where it was.”
“Wasn’t yours in a room after a stone hall, with a waterfall?”
“No. They took us to a field, someplace ceremonial by all the obelisk and marking on them.”
“If you can’t use it, why do you want to know?” Tibs asked, wondering why he didn’t think to ask Jackal about his audience before. He should find people from all the elements and ask how to go about meeting them.
“Curiosity. Of the five who went to our audience at the same time, only two of us returned. I haven’t worked up the nerve to ask her how it went for her, considering she looked in as rough a shape as I felt, but I’m wondering if the audience with Water was as rough as mine with earth, or if I just managed to catch him on a bad day and didn’t make a good impression.”
“Wouldn’t you have died if that was true?”
“I’d like to say Earth is patient enough he’d rather see you suffer for your entire life than kill you there, but as I said, three of us didn’t come back, so he must have liked me, but he could have been happier about it.” Jackal grinned. “I have to say I picked right, I’m not in a hurry either. But someone has got to tell him it shouldn’t take hours to form words. It took forever.”
“It was rough for me too. It felt like I was drowning until I was wherever I went. After that, it was fine. Water is patient, but she isn’t slow. She waited for me to work things out. Never made me feel like I was too slow. She’s not slow, or hard, which I think is what you described Earth as. She wasn’t easy either; she’s understanding.” He hesitated, then asked anyway. “How was the transition there and back?”
Jackal scraped the last of the meat juices off the plate with the last chunk of bread he had. “I was kneeling there, my trainer’s hand on my shoulder, gripping it hard, like she was the only thing keeping me in place. Which she might have been because once she let go, it was like a mountain fell on me. I don’t even remember falling to the ground, I could breathe, but I couldn’t move. Forget a mountain. The entire world was pressing down on me. The weight never went away, but then I was standing and Earth was there and very slowly asked me what I wanted. Then we spoke, and it felt like I was being looked down on. Like I was trying to go too fast.”
“And coming back?”
Jackal shook his head. “You aren’t going to believe me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I had to get used to a dungeon that changes stuff around. I had my own audience. Why do you think I won’t believe how yours ended?”
“How did yours end?”
“I was back in the room retching water.”
Jackal nodded. “I had to dig myself out from under the ground.”
