fits.::
When he had first been Chosen, he had understood nothing. Quite literally, nothing. He had been one short step up from a feral thing, and if he had not accepted Dallen’s offer to buffer him from the rest of the world, and to simply supply him with exactly the information he most needed about his new life—well, he certainly wouldn’t have done very well.
::It was things you would have learned anyway if you had been Chosen when most are, instead of when you were ready,:: Dallen replied. ::And anyway, most of it was about the managing of your Gift. You had a great deal of information and a great many skills you needed to acquire in a very short time. The consensus among the Companions was, why add the burden of learning how to handle your Gift, too, when I am an expert in Mindspeech and Empathy, you and I have a uniquely strong and open bond, and I could just give you the benefit of what I knew directly?::
::So thet’s how come I never needed too much trainin’ in m’Gift?:: he replied.
::Exactly so. You didn’t need attention from an outside teacher, because you had the knowledge already.:: Dallen paused. ::It was for your protection, too. What if you’d had Temper impinge on your mind when you first arrived here? As it was, we all had to work hard before we understood that there was a powerful outsider disrupting your thoughts and your sleep.::
::Huh. Kinda seems like cheatin’.:: He waited for Dallen’s answer.
::It would be, I suppose, if we could do that with every Chosen. But we can’t. You. A few of the Monarchs’ Owns of the past. Some of the Herald-Mages. Not Vanyel, interestingly enough. It requires a peculiarly receptive and open mind, and a point in time where everything comes together so that they are not only receptive, but their minds are prepared to accept everything we give them without question.:: Dallen paused. ::And now you think about this and... ::
His thoughts were already racing through the implications. ::Ye coulda just dumped in whate’er ye wanted to.::
He sensed Dallen “smiling.” ::Yes.::
::Like... makin’ me think ’bout things a certain way. Makin’ up m’mind for me, pushin’ me t’think one thing’s good, ’nother’s bad.::
Dallen seemed delighted. ::Yes.::
::Ye didn’.:: Actually, he was delighted too. There it was, proof that he was still his own person.
::Tempting, especially when you were wallowing in a swamp of delusions of inadequacy, but no. You had—have—to remain you, Mags. All I ever did was give you very, very rapid training so that you didn’t go insane as your Gift blossomed. And at any rate, the time when I could do that so freely is passed; I can still teach you things if I have to, but never with that freedom and ease.:: He sensed mixed feelings now, both pride and a little regret.
He decided to blunt the regret with a joke. ::Huh. Well, hellfire. I was hopin’ ye could git me through them Courty Graces horsecrap wi’out hevin’ t’ strain m’skull.::
::Perhaps we can work on your speech,:: came the sarcastic reply.
Mags smiled even broader. ::My dear old Companion,:: he said, his mental voice reflecting letter-perfect diction and grammar. ::I fear I must disagree with you. What you are taking for ignorance is part of the persona of the thick-as-a-brick games-player that Nikolas wishes me to cultivate. The less cultured I sound, the more people underestimate me.::
He paused, eyes still closed, grinning at the mental silence. ::’Tis also harder’n hell,:: he admitted. ::An’ it don’t seem like me, if ye take m’meanin’. ::
::... what about those words you make up?:: Dallen finally asked.
::It’s on account’a I’m a bonehead, an’ don’t allus ’member what th’ right word is, so I come’s close as I kin.:: That comment nettled him a little. He really did try, after all. ::People figger it out!::
::I suppose they do.:: Dallen sighed. ::All right, I don’t think that our quarry is anywhere around you, and at the moment we have no real direction to go in, other than that you sensed they still had a job to do here and were not going to leave until it was done. I am going to try to put my thoughts together and think in what part of the city they might be. You pursue those little thieves.::
::Not thieves, so much,:: Mags corrected him, opening his eyes, and starting to stretch to get all the kinks out. ::The bastiches owed ’em an’ not like they was gonna get paid.::
::Point taken.::
Mags stood up, careful to remain in the shadow of the chimney. ::How you plan to try and figger out where them new bastiches is?:: He paused. ::We need a name fer ’em. Think on’t wouldja?::
::All right.:: Dallen sighed. ::This is the part of the job I never really enjoyed. I’m going to do something that—eventually—you are going to be able to do as well as I can. It’s just not very pleasant in this case, and you don’t have the experience that I do to do it yet.:: There was a pause. ::I am going to attempt to put myself inside their skins and think as they do.::
Mags froze. He was getting better at thinking, because the implications of what Dallen had just said were all racing through his mind.
::Tha’s... ugly.::
::Yes.::
::Tha’s kinda how I figgered out how t’get t’them kiddies.::
::It’s exactly how.::
