head level, bending his elbows at right angles. His hands were stiff, fingers tight together, palms facing inward toward his head.
After a moment, he relaxed. “The Barrier form is similar,” he continued, “but circular. Like so.” Leaning to the side, he lifted his left leg until it was parallel with the floor, presenting the sole of his foot to Arvin. He drew his hands in tight against his chest, palms facing outward, then suddenly spun in a circle. Returning to an easy balance, he stood on both feet again. “Think of it as a wall. An impenetrable barrier constructed from determination, and strong as stone.”
Arvin nodded, trying to imagine what that would feel like. It might be a second skin, perhaps, one with the toughness of scale mail. One that could be quickly donned then shed as soon as it had-
No. He was thinking like Zelia again. He massaged his temples, trying to ignore the ache that throbbed through his mind. He hissed angrily, wishing it would just go away.
Tanju paused, a wary look on his face.
“I’m fine,” Arvin reassured him, lowering his hand. “Please go on. What is the fifth form? Did you save the best defense for last?”
Tanju’s lips quirked into a brief smile. “The fifth form is known as the Tower of Iron Will. It can be used not only to protect oneself, but also one’s allies-providing they are standing close by.”
“Show me,” Arvin said.
Tanju held his right hand out in front of him, palm up and fingers curled. “The will,” he pronounced, staring at it. Then he clenched his fist. Slowly, he raised it above his head, turning his face to stare up at it as his hand ascended. He extended his left hand to the side, as if reaching for the hand of a companion, then clenched it, as well. “Walled inside the tower, the will can weather the stormy blasts of the opponent’s mental attack. Imagine it as a secure place, as a home.”
Arvin imagined his workshop, hidden at the top of the tower in his warehouse. It had been secure, safe…
Until Zelia had breached it. She hadn’t come in with the fury of a storm, but instead had slithered in, silent as a snake. Any psionic attack she mounted would likely be the same, sneaky-and intimate.
From the brief taste he’d just had of her memories of psionic combat, Arvin knew which attack form was Zelia’s favorite. It was the one that allowed her to wrap herself around her opponents mentally and savor their agonies face to face, or rather, mind to mind.
The psychic crush.
“Empty Mind,” he told Tanju. “That’s the form I want to learn.”
Tanju inclined his head. “An interesting choice. Let us see if you are capable of learning it.”
They worked together for some time, Arvin slowly learning how to “empty” his mind and at the same time maintain his focus and awareness. Under Tanju’s guidance, he began by using the motions that Tanju had, “washing” his face with his hands as he visualized himself erasing his features. Slowly, he learned to imagine replacing his face-
“I did it!” Arvin exclaimed. Then he noticed the expression on Tanju’s face. The psion was nodding, as if in encouragement, but there was a wary look in his eyes.
“You learn remarkably fast,” Tanju said, “quicker than any pupil I’ve ever taught-quicker than you should. Under the guidance of the right master…”
Arvin waited for Tanju to finish the thought, but instead the psion turned and picked up the trollgut rope. “That’s enough for now,” he said, undoing the buckles of his backpack. “I must be going. What is the rope’s command word?”
Arvin frowned. “But we only just-”
Tanju stared at him, the rope in his hands. “The command word?”
The lesson was definitely over. Sighing, Arvin told him.
As Tanju tucked the coil of rope into his pack, Arvin saw a glint inside the pack-a shiny surface that reflected the sunlight. It was the three finger-length quartz crystals-one a smoky gray, one clear, and one rosy-bound together with silver wire.
“That’s a crystal capacitor, isn’t it?” Arvin asked, pulling the words from Zelia’s memories. As he stared at it, his upper lip lifted disdainfully, baring his teeth. The human who had tutored Zelia had used one of those to augment his abilities. It had allowed him to continue manifesting psionic powers long after his own internal supply of energy was depleted. Over time, the crystal capacitor had become a crutch-one that gave the tutor a false sense of security. It had been easy, once that crutch was kicked away, to defeat him…
Arvin shook his head to clear it and realized that Tanju was staring warily at him.
“My mother carried a crystal with her,” Arvin said. “Until… recently I didn’t realize what it was.”
“A single crystal?” Tanju asked, buckling his pack shut.
Arvin nodded, remembering. “An amethyst.”
“How large was it?”
Arvin held his hands about three palm’s widths apart.
“A dorje, then,” Tanju said. “And not a power stone.”
“What’s the difference?”
Tanju rebuckled his backpack. “A dorje is like a wizard’s wand. It contains a single power, and enough psionic energy to manifest that power up to fifty times. A power stone can contain more than one power-I’ve heard of some with as many as six inside them. But each power can be manifested only once.”
“So a dorje is more valuable,” Arvin guessed.
Tanju shook his head. “A dorje can hold only low-level powers,” he said. “A power stone, on the other hand, can hold powers that could normally be manifested only by a master psion. Using a power stone, however, is dangerous. If the psion makes the slightest error during the manifestation, the result can be brain burn.”
Arvin nodded. Whatever brain burn was, it didn’t sound healthy.
“A power stone is smaller than a dorje, then?” he asked.
“Typically, about half the length of a finger,” Tanju answered, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.
Arvin thought of the lapis lazuli in his pocket, wondering if it might be a variant on a power stone. If so, perhaps it would allow him to do more than merely manifest a sending. “How do you know what powers a stone contains?”
“The psion must hail it,” Tanju said. “He must send his mind deep into the stone, address it by name, and link with it. Only then will the stone give up its secrets.”
“But how-”
Tanju held up a hand. “I’ve taught you enough for this morning,” he said. “And I must go. I’ve already tarried here too long. Look me up again, when I get back to Hlondeth, and I’ll tell you more.” He paused. “Unless…”
“Yes,” Arvin said softly. “The mind seed.”
“Tymora’s luck to you,” Tanju said. “I hope you find a cleric who can help.”
Arvin stood and watched the psion and the militiaman trudge up the road, wondering if he’d see Tanju again. The pilgrims had departed from the quarry at dawn; Arvin would be the last to leave the crude stone huts baking under the intense, midday sun. Stepping back inside the hut in which he’d spent the night, Arvin touched a hand to his breast pocket, reassuring himself that the lapis lazuli was still there. He’d already decided what he’d do next. He would use it to send a message to Nicco, to ask the cleric if he did indeed know the restorative prayer that Tanju had mentioned. But first Arvin wanted to try something. If the lapis lazuli really was a power stone, perhaps it might hold other, even more useful powers.
Arvin pulled the lapis lazuli out of his pocket and stared at it, trying to penetrate its gold-flecked surface. Meanwhile, the morning grew hotter. Arvin hooked a finger under the collar of his shirt, fanning himself with it. For just an instant, his mind brushed against something cool and smooth-and multifaceted, like a crystal. But though he tried for some time to connect with it, he was unable to get beyond this point. Eventually, thirst-and the knowledge that time was sliding past-made him put an end to the experiment.
