The Scion of Abacus, Part 2 Read online

  “Very well. Then since you have failed to record herein the awakening of your ether, you can kindly tell me when exactly it did awake. How long has it been, Toven?”

  Again, I felt her eyes burning into me with accusation. I think she fully expected me to tell her I’d been hiding this from her for a year at least, for I could see she did not believe the truth when I spoke it. “Yesterday morning.”

  “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

  “I do, because it’s the truth!” I said forcefully.

  “Do not take that tone of voice with me, Toven Aimis. This is a serious matter. The book on the table here, The Way of Things, is a very dangerous text, a forbidden text. It is not for eyes as young as yours.”

  “How did you—”

  “Find it?” she asked, finishing my question for me. “So, you confess that you have been through this volume, and that it was you who tried to hide it from others.”

  “I was not forbidden to read any book in this tower,” I replied, making sure to keep my tone in check this time. “If it was forbidden, why was it left in plain view for me to find?”

  “You were not forbidden any of these books, no, but you were told to report to me everything you were reading. I have ways of knowing when you lie, boy. I know that you have not read this particular book prior to today, but I also know that you would not have come to me. Your friend, Hero, is wise. You should listen to her. You should have come to me at once.”

  “How do you know I haven’t read it prior to today?” I was growing increasingly nervous now, paranoid that my every move was being watched, that every moment I had believed myself alone, I had in fact been spied on by Deryn Lhopri. My memory turned back to the last year, the day when Hero and I had been in this library and I’d sensed a presence here with us.

  As I thought about it, I realized that no Hymanni, no matter how powerful, could have cloaked herself from view like that, nor put Hero to sleep as had happened. Did that mean Deryn Lhopri was something greater? I did not yet know the limits or capabilities of the mages as I had only begun serious exploration of the topic that day, but I began to fear that Professor Lhopri may too be a mage. Could there be others also, or was I a complete anomaly? I had no way of knowing, but that was the conclusion my panicked mind flew to.

  Deryn Lhopri took up The Way of Things, leaving The Confessions of Abacus lying on the table. “Keep the journal,” she said, “but you will record your thoughts in it every day and show it to me weekly. I will be moving into my office on a more permanent basis as it seems the time has come to increase the level of your instruction. You will no longer be studying with the Hymanni. No, that path is behind you.”

  She moved towards the exit, bearing away the book that held the answers to my questions. She stopped and turned to me again. “And let me not catch you leaving an open flame unattended in this room again. This is a privilege, and it can be taken away.”

  I nodded that I understood, and she left me alone again. I moved over to the table and retrieved the journal. I flipped it open to confirm that it was indeed the mage’s book, and I found a new passage following the last revelation of a few months back.

  I slammed the book shut. I could not safely read it in here, so I blew out the lamps and hurried from the tower. When I got to my dorm room, I found a new bed in place of the mattress that had been sitting on my floor. The pile of wood that had been left to the side of my door was gone as well. I reached out with my senses, letting my ether roam the room. I did not really know what I was doing, but I hoped that my awakened abilities would detect something out of place.

  I found nothing untoward, and so I sighed and sat down to read what new wisdom Abacus had to share.

  -X-

  The mage had very little new information to divulge as I perused the newest readable pages of the journal, but he did, however, offer up one piece of information that went some way towards explaining the manifestation of my new abilities.

  I have observed that the hymaberry plant, he wrote, grants measurable and predictable talents, rather counter to what the mages have witnessed in the past centuries regarding our own abilities.

  That was the first time I recall the mage writing that mages possessed varying abilities of varying powers. It made sense enough when I thought further on it, but as Abacus’ primary concern in this passage was on the nature of the hymaberry, he did not elaborate further, as I would have liked.

  Nevertheless, two things occurred to me that evening: it was unlikely that anyone really knew what I was able to do—if, as Deryn Lhopri had intimated—they even knew what I was; secondly, Abacus stubbornly continued to refer simply to the hymaberry, making no mention of the juicing process that is requisite to acquire its powers.

  This second item was one of great concern to me for a long time, for the official word was that the hymaberry was effectively useless unless the berries were juiced. That much even six-year-old Eikos kids on the street knew. And that knowledge had only been confirmed by Feril Animis and Kynston Lornis, among others of the professors at the University, and I had never thought to question the fact.

  However, if, as the professors claimed, the knowledge of this juicing process derived from the mage Abacus himself, then why did he not mention it in his book? Why did the mage continue to write simply of the hymaberry, as though it mattered not in what manner a man consumed the berries? They were questions unanswerable, perhaps even without any hope of answer ever, for the lies that held the Dominion together like a glue were so ancient that in many cases the truth was buried and had rotted away many centuries ago. My experiences with the vials of juice given me and Hero already told me that something nefarious was going on, and as I knew Professor Lhopri was likely to interrogate me rather closely the next day, I resolved to attempt a small fight-back and acquire a few answers of my own.

  I lay on my bed for a long time, still rather unnerved by the fact that Deryn Lhopri had known far more than she should have about my private life. I listened to the sounds of the old building settling, sensing the heavy weight of stone overhead, hearing its groans and sighs like an old friend sitting by to listen. There were water pipes in the walls, fed from the great aqueducts that funneled water down from the nearby mountains and into the city. I’d never realized they were there before, but my ether now sought out all the elements in my vicinity, relaying back to my mind every detail of information there was to know.

  Despite what would seem an overload of information, I never once felt burdened. The ether that sought out knowledge was also more than capable of containing the knowledge. It was as though I had two brains, two minds, both linked to the other, sharing information, yet both distinctly separate, preventing my physical brain from exploding beneath a weight of information.

  I flung my senses farther afield, but the weight of stone prevented my discerning much. Apart from the ever-present air I was breathing, only once did I sense the formative element of air in another body, and fire along with it. Then, I suspected, somebody had merely been passing by my door.

  I turned my ether inward, attempting to seek out the elements that composed my own flesh. I had not sensed them before, though I had tried several times, and there was to be no change in that pattern. That night, however, I had the mage’s words in mind, thinking of his statement that the mages manifested their powers differently, unlike the Synths.

  All Synths were limited in being able to sense the elements of their own bodies alone. Some could sense all four elements, though most only one, yet this did not change the underlying predictability Abacus had been talking about in his book. The numbers were remarkably consistent, so much so, in fact, that you have already witnessed the accuracy of those statistics in the course of my narrative. When I recounted the day in my eighteenth year when my classmates were divided according to their abilities, I mentioned that Deryn Lhopri said twenty would be named Hymanni. At a statistical rate of one-in-ten, twenty from a group of two hundred would be expected. We w
ere two-hundred-and-thirty and thus had chanced to have twenty-one Hymanni in our midst—not counting myself, a special case as it were. Everything about the hyma’s power-granting abilities pointed to predictable patterns.

  The magic that was awakening in me through my ether, however, had no discernable pattern. Perhaps, I thought glumly, I would never be able to sense the elements of my own body. I would never be able to multiply my strength as a warrior Synth might, whose power was over earth. I would never be able to hold my breath forever like a wise Synth of air.

  But then my mind leapt across what was, admittedly, a rather large logical chasm, but one which was not in truth so wide as it appeared to a nineteen-year-old.

  I realized that I need not multiply my own strength, for I could weaken any opposition. I did not need to hold my breath, for I could summon air even when under water. The end goal would always be the same; the route taken would only be different.

  How, then, would I heal myself, as Hymanni or warrior Synths were able to? That would require some thought, I realized, but I had started down a line of reasoning that would surely, eventually, yield an answer. There was nothing so frightening as being different and yet not knowing the full extent of your difference. This knowledge—if true—would settle my mind enough to begin thinking of solutions to my problems, chief of which being my new daily visitation schedule with Deryn Lhopri.

  I had to make sure that I concealed as much as I could from her. It should not have been this way, I knew. I should have been able trust her, been willing to seek answers as she seemed willing to give them, but I had learnt her lessons too well, and there was no one left for me to trust but an ancient and deceased mage speaking to me from beyond the grave through a magical journal. Put in such terms, few could state with any certainty that I was still sane. But I knew in my heart that I was right to doubt the system. Something was wrong in the world, and but for Abacus’ confessions, there would have been no way for me to know it.

  So I resolved to fool Deryn Lhopri as best I could. She knew my ether had awakened, and so she would likely put me through some tests in the morning. Whatever she asked of me, I decided I would attempt to appear as “normal” as possible, and by that my intentions were to seem as much like a Hymanni as I could. If asked to lift one of those enormous weights again, I’d have to make the stone weigh less so I could manage the task. How exactly I was going to do so was beyond me, but I knew that I had to try. The less Professor Lhopri—and whomever she reported to—knew about me, the more secure I assumed I would be in the long run.

  * * *

  I knocked on the door to Deryn Lhopri’s office, breathing deeply as I did so in an attempt to settle my nerves.

  “Enter,” came the professor’s reply from within.

  I opened the door, allowing my ether to precede me into the room, and I stopped moving before the door had even opened a quarter of the way. My pause was only momentary, and I hoped Professor Lhopri either did not notice it or misinterpreted it.

  I pushed the door all the way open and stepped into her office, turning to close the door behind me and throwing my eyes across the room as I did so.

  We were alone, my eyes said. But my momentary pause earlier had been on account of sensing a second person within.

  “Master Aimis, please, sit down,” Deryn Lhopri said cordially. Gone was the tenseness of her voice from the previous afternoon in the mage’s tower. I figured her anger at the time had been a result of learning I’d been keeping secrets from her, but she was composed now that she’d had time to think it all over and come up with a plan to deal with me. But I sensed that her politeness was also genuine, as though she were deferring to me for some reason. I wondered briefly whether this wasn’t due to the other presence I sensed in the room.

  I dared not explore further with my ether, not until I understood more fully what was going on. Barring some rather inexplicable mistake on my part, there had to be another person in this office, though there was no obvious place for him to be hiding. It was safe to assume, therefore, that whoever was in the room with us was someone of extraordinary power, a power I had never even heard of existing before. This person could be no Hymanni or Synth. My mind, however, was unwilling to come to the ultimate conclusion—at any rate, Deryn Lhopri did not give me much time to dwell on the strange presence.

  “Are you all right, Toven?” she asked. Again, her voice held genuine concern.

  I forced a smile to my face and focused my attention on her once more. I struggled to keep my wandering ether under control, not wanting to mistakenly invade the professor’s mind like I had Hero’s the previous day. Hero was far more understanding than Deryn Lhopri, whatever the professor’s amiable tone bespoke at the moment. “I am fine, professor. Just a little disoriented by all that has happened of late.”

  “I suppose you are,” she replied with a nod. She rose from her seat and moved over to the bookshelves. My eyes instantly caught sight of the book The Way of Things, drawn to it as a moth to flame, but I forced my eyes away from the book, not wanting to give away that I knew it was there, nor hint at the draw I felt toward it.

  Either way, as Deryn Lhopri was not looking at me just then, she would not have noticed, but the second presence in the room would be watching me, I knew, making the task of deceiving the professor that much more difficult than it already was.

  Professor Lhopri reached up and took down a book she’d not touched before in my presence. She held the tome close to her breast as she turned to face me once more. “Toven, there are many things in this world that remain hidden from the general public. There is knowledge that, if allowed to become widely known, will destroy the Dominion and everything it stands for. Our beloved Hymage sacrifices much for the wellbeing of Aaria, and yet there have been those down the ages who have dared to slander him by calling him a tyrant. But there are those few select individuals who are privy to that secret knowledge, those who guard it, who keep it, and who disseminate it to the next generation of guardians. I am one of those who guard the knowledge of the inner workings of the Dominion. And, as you have perhaps already guessed, you have been chosen to join our ranks as well.”

  I furrowed my brow in confusion at this statement. I had thought no such thing. Indeed, it seemed rather ludicrous that I, a mere student, still only nineteen-years of age, should be entrusted with so much dangerous knowledge.

  Professor Lhopri perceived my confusion for what it was, saying, “It is not a normal thing for one so young to be chosen, but it is not unheard of either. It has, in fact, happened twice before in the thousand years since the Dominion came into being, the last occurrence being nearly three hundred years ago. You see, Toven, I know what you are, and I will tell you in a moment. But I know who you are too, though you will have to trust me that this knowledge must remain hidden from you a while longer. Too much information at one time is a dangerous thing, I’m sure you realize, and so we must work together to ensure that your development takes place at a steady and controlled rate.”

  As she paused, I took the opportunity to interrupt, seeing my chance to begin plumbing the depths of her own understanding. “Professor, if you don’t mind, what is it you think I am? Why am I so different from my classmates?” I asked the question as innocently as possible, trying not to give away the fullness of my own understanding, and I think she sensed I was dissembling, for she stared at me for several heartbeats before replying.

  “You are a true mage, Toven Aimis.”

  I blinked stupidly, not actually expecting so forthright an answer. Again, I wondered at what the respect in her voice indicated, and what this newfound honesty on her part pointed to. I managed to stammer a reply. “A mage? But Professor Animis taught us that the mages died out a thousand years ago.”

  She was displeased with my answer, and I knew at once she detected the untruth meant to cover the extent of what I knew or had guessed at. Professor Lhopri was far more aware of the scope of my knowledge than I suspected. She truly must have
been keeping close watch on me, as she had said before. As the professor seemed intent on waiting for me to speak the truth, I finally sighed.

  “All right. I am a mage. I suspected as much already, though I am honest when I say that I don’t understand how this is possible.”

  Deryn Lhopri nodded. “That is better, Toven. A certain level of honesty between us is of the utmost importance. There are reasons behind the lies we are forced to create. As I said, there are things that, if made public, could destroy the very fabric of our society. If we cannot trust each other, then things will not fail to fall apart.”

  “But did you not teach me to withhold trust from everyone—including yourself? I don’t understand.” I was fishing for information now, but my confusion was genuine. The paradox of trusting yet not trusting was a troubling one, especially as I was still undecided on the professor’s motives.

  “Ah, now we are getting to questions worth answering. The Eikos trust far too easily. And every Synth was once an Eikos. It is a fault that carries over to our new lives automatically, and therefore one that requires breaking before you can join the ranks of the highest elite to which you are called. Trusting another person is a weakness, for it opens us up to betrayal, and yet without at least a modicum of trust, society simply could not function. It is a delicate balance, but a balance that is nevertheless maintained by those who uphold the system itself.”

  “These ‘guardians’ of the Dominion, as you called them?”

  “Indeed.” Deryn Lhopri at last turned her attention back to the book she clutched in her hands, placing it on the desk before me. My eyes trailed over the gold lettering of the cover: The World Belongs to the Strong.

  “I spoke of dangerous books,” she said. “This is one of the most dangerous ever written, a treatise on the nature of the Dominion, indeed, on the nature of all life. It is the revised and updated version of that book you were so interested in yesterday. Forget about that one and concentrate your mind on the secrets that lie within these leather covers. The Eikos—and, to some degree, the Synths and Hymanni—cannot be allowed to understand the facts this book contains. They are like puppets, Toven, dancing to the Hymage’s tune, one he plays in order that the harmony of the Dominion can continue to exist, generation to generation. I see in your eyes that you find this notion distasteful. Well, to tell you the truth, there is not a person alive who would think any differently. I, too, long ago, had those same thoughts currently surging through your mind. But I learnt, Toven. I learnt that some things are meant to be, that if they were changed, life would cease to be what we know it to be. Change is a frightening thing, and so we resist it as much as possible. Yes, that means that the Eikos are Eikos not only because nature decrees it to be so, but also because they are unwilling to rise above their stations in life. Why has there never been a successful rebellion against the Dominion? Because, my dear boy, because they have never truly wanted to be free, to be responsible for their own lives.”