Brightly Burning

*

THE tack room of the Companions' stable was perhaps not the best place for Lan's first lesson in using his Gift, but it was the only one that would work at all. It was absolutely too cold to try to teach Lan outside, for Pol didn't have the strength to teach him and keep them both warm at the same time. The first consideration in this set of lessons was that Kalira had to be with him, which ruled out most of the rooms in the Collegium. He'd asked for a tiled room in Healers, but there wasn't one available. That left the tack room, the only heated place in the stables that wasn't also too near stored straw and other flammable substances. Pol wished that it was spring, when these lessons could have been held safely outdoors, but this was too urgent to wait until spring. Just to be on the safe side, though, he had a pail of water nearby.

Not that a pail of water is going to make much difference if he really loses control... Pol told himself sternly to dismiss the idea. Kalira had already demonstrated she could control Lan's power. If he let himself doubt that she could, he could undermine her ability to continue to do so.

So he sat down at a small table, across from his pupil, and put himself in the calmest and most confident state of mind he could conjure. Lan looked up at him and smiled, faintly, and reached out to touch Kalira who stood at his elbow.

'This is the usual first step for a Firestarter,' Pol said, placing a small piece of oil-soaked lint in the middle of a saucer in front of Lan. 'Needless to say, in your case, the reason we're starting small is not because you need to increase your power—' here he raised an ironic eyebrow at Lan, who flushed, '—but because you need to increase your control. Or rather, you and Kalira need to work together so that you two can accomplish something besides blasting. So. Light this gently. You'll probably get a reaction-headache, Lan, unless Kalira has managed to work out how to keep that from happening too.'

Kalira gave Pol a distinctly superior look, which made Pol wonder just what she had been concocting. Companions had this addiction to secrecy sometimes... and took a distinct delight in coming out of nowhere with a surprise for their Chosen.

:What is she up to?: he asked Satiran, who stood just behind him, watching the proceedings.

:I have no idea,: his Companion replied. :You know children. When they're planning something, the last person they tell is a parent:

Lan bit his lip and stared at the bit of lint apprehensively.

'I expect you're going to have to get worked up about something,' Pol told him. 'It's going to be a while before you can access the power of your Gift without getting emotionally—'

'Overwrought,' Lan supplied, unhappily.

'Well, yes. But just remember that when you two do get it under control, it's going to be easier to access, reliable, and very useful.' Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that Lan was unhappy about his Gift, seeing that it was so linked with emotions....

'Try it,' he urged. 'The only way things are going to get better for you is to get everything under control.'

'And the only way to get control is to practice.' The boy sighed, but nodded. 'Right.' He closed his eyes.

Pol was enough of an Empath to feel the unhappiness that Lan was conjuring out of his memories. The tension increased moment by moment, and Pol's stomach tightened in response.

Time crawled by, and Pol's shoulders and neck began to knot up as well. He felt sweat trickling down his back, nervous sweat, since it certainly wasn't that warm in the tack room. Soon it was at the point where he began to worry that Kalira's confidence was overconfidence, that the plate would explode in his face in a moment. Lan's face reflected anger, fear, and unhappiness, and Pol had to force himself to remain where he was, looking calm and confident in case Lan looked up.

He felt as if his head was about to burst.

Then it happened. With a tiny sigh, the bit of fluff in front of him blossomed into a lovely flame that unfolded like a flower to feed on the lint and the oil.

Lan's shoulders slumped and his eyes opened; the anger drained from his face, then the fear, and he looked at the little flame with wonder.

'I—we did it!' he said, with great surprise. 'And my head doesn't hurt!'

:I should hope not,: Kalira said smugly, for the benefit of both the Heralds. :I've been working on that. If I hadn't been, you'd have been waking up with a reaction-headache every time you had a bad dream.: She tossed her head proudly and arched her neck, waiting for Pol to congratulate her.

'Aha! You clever girl, you! You've found the key, it's to take care of the problem before it's a problem!' Although Lan still looked baffled, Pol understood immediately. 'You're draining off energy as he produces it!'

:And leaving just enough for him to use. Right now I'm directing it, too, but if you let him link in and show him what to do, all I'll have to do is manage the draining.: Kalira had lost a bit of the smugness, but she was still very proud of herself, as well she should be. It was the best possible solution for now, although poor Lan would have to weather a great many emotional ups and downs in order to access his power.

'How are you doing?' Pol asked. Lan chewed on his lip, and looked anxiously at his mentor, but slowly the anxiety was fading.

'My stomach's upset, but I guess I'm all right,' he admitted.

:A cup of tea from Elenor will take care of that,: Kalira soothed, though to Pol's experienced ear, she also sounded just a trifle impatient with her Chosen. She knew they could do this, now, and she wanted him to keep trying.

Lan didn't, but he knew that if he wasn't able to learn to control this ability, it would control him. It already had twice, after all, and he knew the consequences of that. While he thought, the bit of lint flared and went out, leaving a tiny pile of ashes.

'Let's... do it again,' he said at last.