Venom’s Taste

clinging to his breasts and thighs. But the vast majority of his awareness-which had lessened, thanks to that last blast of energy, which had stripped away several layers of his painstakingly constructed self-control-was focused on his attack. Summoning energy up from his muladhara, he formed it into a long, thin, deadly whip of thought and sent this lashing out at his opponent.

He heard a low thrumming noise-a sound like an enormous, low-timbral drum still vibrating long after it has been struck-and cursed, knowing his master had raised a defense just in time. Arvin’s mental whip struck harmlessly against a barrier then vanished.

His master, standing several paces away, his bare feet hidden by the flowering bush he’d stumbled into, shook his bald head. His face was deeply lined, almost haggard looking. He’d aged-greatly-during the years in which he’d served as Arvin’s tutor.

In one dark hand he held two thumb-sized crystals, bound together with silver wire, his capacitor. The golden glow that once blazed brightly in it was dimmer than it had been a moment ago, almost gone.

“Enough!” the master cried. “You’ve proved your point. You surpass me.”

Arvin hissed with satisfaction, but sweet as his master’s admission of defeat was, there was something more Arvin wanted. His tongue flickered out of his mouth, tasting defeat in the wind.

Then power surged, coiling and furious, into the spot at the base of his skull. Arvin lashed out with it, wrapping it tightly around his master’s will. But in that same instant, his master’s eyes flared, emitting a bright green light as pale as a new-grown leaf. One final blast of energy crashed into Arvin, shredding his confidence like a once-proud flag frayed by the wind. A shred of his mental fabric, however, held. Control, Arvin told himself, repeating the favorite motto of his master-this human who had been foolish enough to share his secrets.

His psychic crush held.

Arvin squeezed with it-and his master crumpled. First his face, which sagged into a look of utter despair, then his shoulders and his torso. His legs buckled under him and he folded to the ground. The crystal capacitor, drained by his last, feeble attempt at defense, fell to the ground beside him, darkened, drained of energy.

Swiftly, Arvin manifested one of his favorite powers-one that locked away the victim’s higher mind, leaving him paralyzed and unable to react. As the flash of silver light died away from Arvin’s vision, he saw that his manifestation had been successful. From the crown of his bald head to the pink soles of his feet, his master was covered in a thin sheen of ectoplasmic slime.

As the human lay there, unable to move, Arvin strode across the garden. He bent low over his defeated opponent and tasted the sweat on the man’s brow. “Surpassing you wasn’t enough,” he whispered in his master’s ear. “But this will be.”

He reared back, opening his mouth wide, and sank his teeth into the old man’s throat…

Arvin gasped and sat up, heart pounding, horrified by what he’d just done. He’d just killed a man. By biting him. And the taste of the old man’s blood had been so sweet.

For several moments all he could do was look wildly around. Where was he? Still in the garden of his family compound?

With an effort, he shook off the dream-memory. He saw that he was inside one of the crude huts in the ancient quarry. Early-morning sunlight was streaming in through its open doorway. He stared at it for several moments before realizing that the blanket that had served as its door was gone.

Tanju! Had the psion crept away in the night?

Leaping to his feet, Arvin scrambled outside, only to nearly run into the psion as he was coming in through the doorway.

Tanju chuckled. “Eager to begin, I see. Good. Once you’ve relieved yourself and washed, we can start.”

A short time later, Arvin sat cross-legged in the crude stone shelter, hands resting on his knees and eyes closed, in the position he’d seen his mother adopt each morning at Sunrise. He’d always assumed her morning meditations to be a form of dozing, but now he understood what she’d really been doing. The mental exercises Tanju was putting him through were every bit as strenuous as the asanas Zelia performed. They were not a flexing of muscle, though, but a flexing of mind.

Following Tanju’s instructions, he relaxed his body, concentrating on letting his muscles loosen, starting with his forehead, his eyes, his jaw-and thus on down through his entire body. That done, he concentrated on his breathing, drawing air in through his nose, out through his mouth, in through his nose, out through his mouth…

He was supposed to be aware only of his breathing-to clear his mind of all other thoughts-but this was a much more difficult task than it sounded. Like a small child running zigzags across an open field, spiting its parents’ attempts to make it stand in one place and be still, Arvin’s mind kept darting this way and that. To Zelia and the mind seed-if Tanju didn’t help, whatever was Arvin going to do next? To the rebels-were Gonthril and the others still alive, or had they died in the assassination attempt? To the horrible rotted-flesh thing, and Kayla, and the sewers, and the Pox, and the flasks shaped like snake rattles, and the-

“Maintain your focus,” Tanju snapped. “Concentrate! Clear your mind of stray thoughts.”

With an effort, Arvin wrenched his mind back to the current moment. He breathed in through the nose, out through the mouth, in through his nose… Dimly, he was aware of Tanju, seated beside him in the shelter. The psion’s breathing matched his own. Slowly, Arvin’s mind stilled.

“Better,” Tanju said. “We can begin now.”

Tanju took a deep breath and began his instruction. “Before he can master a power, a psion must master his own mind,” he told Arvin. “He must explore every corner, every crevice. Especially those that he would rather remain in darkness. He must seek out the desires, fears, and memories that lie in darkness and bring them out into the light, one by one. Until you can prove yourself capable of doing this, it is pointless for me to try to teach you.”

Arvin nodded, determined to try.

“In order for you to attempt to gain mastery over your fears, it will be necessary for me to guide you,” Tanju continued. “To do this, I must join my mind with yours.”

As he realized what Tanju was asking, Arvin’s breath caught. Zelia had already trampled through his mind and left her deadly seed. Did he really want another person crowding in there, too? “Is there any other way?” he asked.

“Without my guidance, what you’re about to attempt could take a tenday or more to master. It’s your choice.”

After a few moments, Arvin realized that’s just what he didn’t have: a choice. This might be his only chance to learn more about psionics before… Shrugging the thought aside, he concentrated and found the breathing pattern again. In through the nose, out through the mouth; in through the nose…”All right,” he sighed. “Do it. Join.”

Suddenly, Arvin’s skin felt wet. A thin, slippery coating of ectoplasm coated his body. Then it was gone.

Good, Tanju said, his words slipping into Arvin’s mind like a whisper. Now we can begin.

Tanju guided him, instructing Arvin to come up with a mental picture that represented his mind. Some object that Arvin could visualize-a network of roads, perhaps, or a system of streams and rivers down which his thoughts journeyed.

Arvin considered these examples and decided to visualize his thoughts like a flowing river. It proved to be a mistake. The river swiftly shifted into an image of snakes, slithering through his mind, trying to find each other so they could form a mating ball. Recognizing them as the tendrils of the mind seed, Arvin recoiled, his heart pounding.

What is it? Tanju asked.

The mind seed.

You fear it.

Yes. Arvin hesitated. Must I… overcome this fear… before you will train me?

Arvin felt rather than saw Tanju shake his head. This fear is too great, and it is justified. We will choose something else, instead. But first you need to picture your mind-your mind, rather than the portion the mind seed has already claimed. Choose another image, one that has a resonance for you alone.

Arvin, still struggling to keep his breathing even, considered. What could he picture his mind as that wouldn’t