And that was when Quenten got one of the greatest shocks of his life.
Whatever he had been expecting-it wasn't what he Saw.
The ordinary young woman with the graceful white horse was-not ordinary at all. She was the bearer of an untrained, but major Mage-Gift; one so powerful it sheathed her in a closely-wrapped, sparkling aura in his Mage- Sight, that briefly touched everyone around her with exploratory fingers she was apparently unaware of. Quenten was astonished, and surprised she hadn't caused problems with it before this.
Surely she must have Seen power-flows, energy-levels, even the nodes that he could See, but could not use. Surely she had wondered what they were, and how could she not have been tempted to try and manipulate them? Then he recalled something; these Heralds, one and all, had mindmagic and were trained in it. If they didn't know what Mage-Talent was-it could, possibly, be mistaken for something like Sight. And if she was told that this was just another way of viewing things, that she could not actually affect them, she might not have caused any trouble. they have no idea how close they came. If she had ever been tempted to touch something...
That was not the end of the surprises. She was carrying at her side something that radiated such power that it almost eclipsed her-and only long familiarity with Kero's sword enabled him to recognize it as Need.
The sword had changed; had awakened somehow, and it was totally transformed from the relatively simple blade he had dealt with. Now there was no doubt whatsoever that it was a major magical artifact-and it radiated controlled power that rivaled the Adepts he knew.
It's a good thing I never tried mucking around with it when it was like this. It probably would have swatted me like a fly.
He wondered how he could have missed it when they were riding in; it must have been like a beacon. And how the mages at Faram's Court could have missed it-he had his answer, as it simply-stopped what it was doing. It went back to being the simple sword he had known; magical, yes, if you looked at it closely enough, but you had to look very closely and know what you were looking for.
Did it put on that show for my benefit? he wondered. Somehow that idea was a little chilling. No one he knew could detect Mage-Sight in action; it was a passive spell, not an active one.
No one he knew. That didn't mean it couldn't be done. That notion was even more awe-inspiring than the display of power had been. Need was old; perhaps the ancient ways of magic it was made with harbored spells he couldn't even dream of.
The creature she was riding-not a horse at all, even if it chose to appear as one-rivaled both the young woman and the sword, but in a way few would have recognized. The aura enveloping it was congruent with the creature's skin, as if controlled power was actually shining through the skin. Which was very much the case... Although few mages would have known it for what it was, Quenten recognized it as a Guardian Spirit of the highest order. And from the colors of its aura, it was superior even to the Ethereal Spirits he had once, very briefly, had conversation with when some of the Shin'a'in relatives came to Bolthaven for the annual horse-fair-the ones Kero's other uncle called ' spirit-Kal'enedral,' that served the Shin'a'in Goddess. The 'veiled ones,' shaman Kra'heera had called them; the unspoken implication being that only the spirit- Kal'enedral went veiled. They were to this 'horse' what an eating knife is to a perfectly balanced rapier.
One blow after another, all within a heartbeat. He practically swallowed his tongue with shock and dropped his arms numbly to his sides.
For a moment, he felt like an apprentice again, faced with his Master, and the vision of what that Master had become after years and years of work in developing his Talent to its highest pinnacle placed before him.
All that power-all that potential-and he hadn't the slightest idea what to do with it.
His mind completely froze for a moment as he stared at her. I can't take her on! his thoughts babbled in panic. One slip-and she wouldn't just blow up the workshop, she could-she could-and that Guardian-and the sword-and-and-Only years of self-discipline, combined with more years of learning to think on his feet with the Skybolts, enabled him to get his mind working again so that he could stop reacting and start acting like a mage and a competent Master, instead of a dumbfounded apprentice.
And the first thing he did was to turn away from the window. With her out of his sight and Sight, he was able to take a deep breath, run his hand through his sweat-damp hair, and think. Quickly. He had to come up with an answer and a solution.
One thing was certain; it wasn't a question of whether she could be trained or not; she had to be trained. One day, she might be tempted to try to manipulate some of the energies she could sense all around her, and then-No telling what would happen. Depends on what she touched, and how hard she pulled.
It could be even worse if she were in a desperate situation and she simply reacted instinctively, trying to save herself or others. With the thrust of fear driving her-Gods.
And the very first thing we are taught is never, ever, act in fear or anger.
She would be easy prey for anyone who saw her, and wanted to use her. There were blood-path Masters and even Adepts out there who wouldn't hesitate to lure her into their territory with promises of training, and then exploit her ruthlessly, willing or not. Anyone could be broken, and no mage had gotten to the Master level without learning the patience it took to break someone and subvert them, even if it took a year or more.
