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and all who Skilled for him. She made it her business to seek out and teach as many as manifested real
talent and the judgment to use it well. This coterie is the first group Galen has trained since Chivalry and I
were boys. And I do not find them well taught. No, they are trained, as monkeys and parrots are taught
to mimic men, with no understanding of what they do. But they are what I have. Verity looked out the
window and spoke softly. Galen has no finesse. He is as coarse as his mother was, and just as
presumptuous. Verity paused suddenly, and his cheeks flushed as if he had said something ill considered.
He resumed more quietly. The Skill is like language, boy. I need not shout at you to let you know what I
want. I can ask politely, or hint, or let you know my wish with a nod and a smile. I can Skill a man, and
leave him thinking it was all his own idea to please me. But all that eludes Galen, both in the use of the
Skill and the teaching of it. He uses force to batter his way in. Privation and pain are one way to lower a
man's defenses; it is the only way Galen believes in. But Solicity used guile. She would have me watch a
kite, or a bit of dust floating in a sunbeam, focusing on it as if there were nothing else in the world. And
suddenly there she would be, inside my mind with me, smiling and praising me. She taught me that being
open was simply not being closed. And going into another's mind is mostly done by being willing to go
outside of your own. Do you see, boy?
Somewhat, I hedged.
Somewhat. He sighed. I could teach you to Skill, had I but the time. I do not. But tell me this wereyour
lessons going well, before he tested you?
No. I never had any aptitude ... wait! That's not true! What am I saying, what have I been thinking?
Though I was sitting, I swayed suddenly, my head bounding off the arm of Verity's chair. He reached out
a hand and steadied me.
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I was too swift, I suppose. Steady now, boy. Someone had misted you. Befuddled you, much as I do
Red-Ship navigators and steersmen. Convince them they've taken a sighting already and their course is
true when really they are steering into a cross current. Convince them they've passed a point they haven't
sighted yet. Someone convinced you that you could not Skill.
Galen. I spoke with certainty. I almost knew the moment. He had slammed into me that afternoon, and
from that time nothing had been the same. I had been living in a fog, all those months ....
Probably. Though if you Skilled into him at all, I'm sure you've seen what Chivalry did to him. He hated
your father with a passion, prior to Chiv turning him into a lapdog. We felt badly about it. We'd have
undone it, if we could have figured out how to do it, and escape Solicity's detection. But Chiv was strong
with the Skill, and we were all but boys then, and Chiv was angry when he did it. Over something Galen
had done to me, ironically. Even when Chivalry was not angry, being Skilled by him was like being
trampled by a horse. Or ducked in a fast-flowing river, more like. He'd get in a hurry, and barge into you
and dump his information and flee. He paused again and reached to uncover a dish of soup on his tray. I
guess I've always assumed you knew all this. Though I'm damned if there's any way you could have.
Who would have told you?
I seized on one piece of information. You could teach me to Skill?
If I had time. A great deal of time. You're a lot like Chiv and I were, when we learned. Erratic. Strong,
but with no idea how to bring that strength to bear. And Galen has ... well, scarred you, I suppose.
You've walls I can't begin to penetrate, and I am strong. You'd have to learn to drop them. That's a hard
thing. But I could teach you, yes. If you and I had a year, and nothing else to do. He pushed the soup
aside. But we don't.
My hopes crashed again. This second wave of disappointment engulfed me, grinding me against stones
of frustration. My memories all reordered themselves, and in a surge of anger, I knew all that had been
done to me. Were it not for Smithy, I'd have dashed my life out at the base of the tower that night. Galen
had tried to kill me, just as surely as if he'd had a knife. No one would even have known of how he'd
beaten me, save his loyal coterie. And while he'd failed at that, he had taken from me the chance to learn
Skilling. He'd crippled me, and I would ... I leaped to my feet, furious.
Whoa. Be slow and careful. You have a grievance, but we cannot have discord within the keep itself
right now. Carry it with you until you can settle it quietly, for the King's sake. I bowed my head to the
wisdom of his counsel. He lifted the cover from a small roast fowl, dropped it again. Why would you
want to learn this Skill anyway? It's a miserable thing. No fit occupation for a man.
To help you, I said without thinking, and then found it true. Once it would have been to prove myself a
true and fit son to Chivalry, to impress Burrich or Chade, to increase my standing in the keep. Now, after
watching what Verity did, day after day, with no praise or acknowledgment from his subjects, I found I
only wanted to help him.
To help me, he repeated. The storm winds were slackening. With exhausted resignation, he lifted his
eyes to the window. Take the food away, boy. I've no time for it now.
But you need strength, I protested. Guiltily, I knew he had taken time with me that he should have taken
for food and sleep.
I know. But I have no time. Eating takes energy. Odd to realize that. I have none extra to give to that
just now. His eyes were questing afar now, staring through the sheeting rain that was just beginning to
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slacken.
I'd give you my strength, Verity. If I could.
He looked at me oddly. Are you sure? Very sure?
I could not understand the intensity of his question, but I knew the answer. Of course I would. And
more quietly: I am a king's man. And of my own blood, he affirmed. He sighed. For a moment he looked
sickened. He looked again at the food, and again out the window. There is just time, he whispered. And
it might be enough. Damnation to you, Father. Must you always win? Come here, then, boy.
There was an intensity to his words that frightened me, but I obeyed. When I stood by his chair, he
reached out a hand. He placed it on my shoulder, as if he needed assistance to rise.
I looked up at him from the floor. There was a pillow under my head, and the blanket I had brought up [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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and all who Skilled for him. She made it her business to seek out and teach as many as manifested real
talent and the judgment to use it well. This coterie is the first group Galen has trained since Chivalry and I
were boys. And I do not find them well taught. No, they are trained, as monkeys and parrots are taught
to mimic men, with no understanding of what they do. But they are what I have. Verity looked out the
window and spoke softly. Galen has no finesse. He is as coarse as his mother was, and just as
presumptuous. Verity paused suddenly, and his cheeks flushed as if he had said something ill considered.
He resumed more quietly. The Skill is like language, boy. I need not shout at you to let you know what I
want. I can ask politely, or hint, or let you know my wish with a nod and a smile. I can Skill a man, and
leave him thinking it was all his own idea to please me. But all that eludes Galen, both in the use of the
Skill and the teaching of it. He uses force to batter his way in. Privation and pain are one way to lower a
man's defenses; it is the only way Galen believes in. But Solicity used guile. She would have me watch a
kite, or a bit of dust floating in a sunbeam, focusing on it as if there were nothing else in the world. And
suddenly there she would be, inside my mind with me, smiling and praising me. She taught me that being
open was simply not being closed. And going into another's mind is mostly done by being willing to go
outside of your own. Do you see, boy?
Somewhat, I hedged.
Somewhat. He sighed. I could teach you to Skill, had I but the time. I do not. But tell me this wereyour
lessons going well, before he tested you?
No. I never had any aptitude ... wait! That's not true! What am I saying, what have I been thinking?
Though I was sitting, I swayed suddenly, my head bounding off the arm of Verity's chair. He reached out
a hand and steadied me.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
I was too swift, I suppose. Steady now, boy. Someone had misted you. Befuddled you, much as I do
Red-Ship navigators and steersmen. Convince them they've taken a sighting already and their course is
true when really they are steering into a cross current. Convince them they've passed a point they haven't
sighted yet. Someone convinced you that you could not Skill.
Galen. I spoke with certainty. I almost knew the moment. He had slammed into me that afternoon, and
from that time nothing had been the same. I had been living in a fog, all those months ....
Probably. Though if you Skilled into him at all, I'm sure you've seen what Chivalry did to him. He hated
your father with a passion, prior to Chiv turning him into a lapdog. We felt badly about it. We'd have
undone it, if we could have figured out how to do it, and escape Solicity's detection. But Chiv was strong
with the Skill, and we were all but boys then, and Chiv was angry when he did it. Over something Galen
had done to me, ironically. Even when Chivalry was not angry, being Skilled by him was like being
trampled by a horse. Or ducked in a fast-flowing river, more like. He'd get in a hurry, and barge into you
and dump his information and flee. He paused again and reached to uncover a dish of soup on his tray. I
guess I've always assumed you knew all this. Though I'm damned if there's any way you could have.
Who would have told you?
I seized on one piece of information. You could teach me to Skill?
If I had time. A great deal of time. You're a lot like Chiv and I were, when we learned. Erratic. Strong,
but with no idea how to bring that strength to bear. And Galen has ... well, scarred you, I suppose.
You've walls I can't begin to penetrate, and I am strong. You'd have to learn to drop them. That's a hard
thing. But I could teach you, yes. If you and I had a year, and nothing else to do. He pushed the soup
aside. But we don't.
My hopes crashed again. This second wave of disappointment engulfed me, grinding me against stones
of frustration. My memories all reordered themselves, and in a surge of anger, I knew all that had been
done to me. Were it not for Smithy, I'd have dashed my life out at the base of the tower that night. Galen
had tried to kill me, just as surely as if he'd had a knife. No one would even have known of how he'd
beaten me, save his loyal coterie. And while he'd failed at that, he had taken from me the chance to learn
Skilling. He'd crippled me, and I would ... I leaped to my feet, furious.
Whoa. Be slow and careful. You have a grievance, but we cannot have discord within the keep itself
right now. Carry it with you until you can settle it quietly, for the King's sake. I bowed my head to the
wisdom of his counsel. He lifted the cover from a small roast fowl, dropped it again. Why would you
want to learn this Skill anyway? It's a miserable thing. No fit occupation for a man.
To help you, I said without thinking, and then found it true. Once it would have been to prove myself a
true and fit son to Chivalry, to impress Burrich or Chade, to increase my standing in the keep. Now, after
watching what Verity did, day after day, with no praise or acknowledgment from his subjects, I found I
only wanted to help him.
To help me, he repeated. The storm winds were slackening. With exhausted resignation, he lifted his
eyes to the window. Take the food away, boy. I've no time for it now.
But you need strength, I protested. Guiltily, I knew he had taken time with me that he should have taken
for food and sleep.
I know. But I have no time. Eating takes energy. Odd to realize that. I have none extra to give to that
just now. His eyes were questing afar now, staring through the sheeting rain that was just beginning to
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
slacken.
I'd give you my strength, Verity. If I could.
He looked at me oddly. Are you sure? Very sure?
I could not understand the intensity of his question, but I knew the answer. Of course I would. And
more quietly: I am a king's man. And of my own blood, he affirmed. He sighed. For a moment he looked
sickened. He looked again at the food, and again out the window. There is just time, he whispered. And
it might be enough. Damnation to you, Father. Must you always win? Come here, then, boy.
There was an intensity to his words that frightened me, but I obeyed. When I stood by his chair, he
reached out a hand. He placed it on my shoulder, as if he needed assistance to rise.
I looked up at him from the floor. There was a pillow under my head, and the blanket I had brought up [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]