“Of course. It is flawless. Is that how you looked when younger?”
“No, I was always ugly. But this is how I choose for you to see me.” She glided in close to him and stroked his face. Her touch was warm, and he felt a ripple of arousal.
“Please do not continue,” he said.
“Why? Is it not pleasurable?” Her hand touched his robes and they disappeared.
“Yes, it is. Very. But my vows… do not allow for the pleasures of the flesh.”
“Silly boy,” she whispered into his ear. “We are not flesh. We are spirit.”
“No,” he said sternly. Instantly he transformed himself into the image of the old woman sitting at the table.
“Clever boy,” said the beautiful vision. “Yes, very clever. And virtuous too. I don’t know if I like that, but it does have the charm of being novel. Very well. I will help you.”
He felt the invisible chains holding him disappear, as did the vision. The old woman opened her eyes.
“She was at sea, heading for Ventria when the ship came under attack. She leapt into the water, and the sharks took her.”
Vintar reeled back and cried out, “It’s my fault! I should have sought her sooner.”
“Go back to your Temple, boy. My time is precious, and I have clients waiting.”
Her laughter rang out and she waved her hand dismissively. Once more he felt the pull on his spirit. It dragged him out, hurling him high into the sky over Mashrapur.
Vintar returned to the tiny cell at the Temple, merging once more with his body. As always he felt nauseous and dizzy and lay still for a few moments, experiencing the weight of his flesh, feeling the rough blanket beneath his skin. A great sadness fell upon him. His talents were far beyond those of normal men, yet they had brought him no pleasure. His parents had treated him with cold reverence, frightened by his uncanny skills. They had been both delighted and relieved when the Abbot came to them one autumn evening, offering to take the boy into his custody. It mattered nothing to them that the Abbot represented a Temple of the Thirty, where men with awesome talents trained and studied with one purpose only - to die in some battle, some distant war, and thus become one with the Source. The prospect of his death could not grieve his parents, for they had never treated him as a human being, flesh of their flesh, blood of their blood. They saw him as a changeling, a demonic presence. He had no friends. Who wants to be around a boy who can read minds, who can peek into the darkest corners of your soul and know all your secrets? Even in the Temple he was alone, unable to share in the simple camaraderie of others with talents the equal of his.
And now he had missed an opportunity to help a young woman, indeed to save her life.
He sat up and sighed. The old woman had been a witch, and he had felt the malevolence of her personality. Even so the vision she created had aroused him. He could not even withstand such a petty evil.
And then the thought struck him, like a blow between the eyes. Evil! Malice and deceit walked hand in hand beneath the darkness of evil. Perhaps she lied!
He lay back and forced his mind to relax, loosening the spirit once more. Soaring from the Temple, he sped across the ocean, seeking the ship and praying that he was not too late.
Clouds were gathering in the east, promising a storm. Vintar swooped low over the water, spirit eyes scanning the horizon.
Forty miles from the coast of Ventria he saw the ships, a trireme with a huge black sail and a slender merchant vessel seeking to avoid capture.
The merchant ship swung away, but the trireme ploughed on, its bronze-covered ram striking the prey amidships, smashing the timbers and ripping into the heart of the vessel. Armed men swarmed over the trireme’s prow. On the rear deck Vintar saw a young woman dressed in white, with two men - one tall and dark-skinned, the other small and slightly built. The trio leapt into the waves. Sharks glided through the water towards them.
Vintar flew to Rowena, his spirit hand touching her shoulder as she bobbed in the water, clinging to a length of timber, the two men on either side of her. “Stay calm, Rowena,” he pulsed.
A shark lunged up at the struggling trio and Vintar entered its mind, tasting the bleakness of its non-thoughts, the coldness of its emotions, the hunger that consumed it. He felt himself becoming the shark, seeing the world through black, unblinking eyes, tasting the environment through a sense of smell a hundred, perhaps a thousand times more powerful than Man’s. Another shark glided below the three people, its jaws opening as it swept up towards them.
With a flick of his tail Vintar rammed the beast, which turned and snapped at his side, barely missing his dorsal fin.
Then came a scent in the water, sweet and beguiling, promising infinite pleasure and a cessation of hunger. Almost without thinking Vintar swam for it, sensing and seeing the other sharks racing towards it.
And then he knew, and his soaring lust was quelled as swiftly as it had risen.
Blood. The victims of the pirates were being thrown to the sharks.
Releasing control of the sea beast, he flew back to where Rowena and the others were clinging to the beam. “Get your friends to kick out. You must swim away from here,”, he told her. He heard her tell the others, and slowly the three of them began to move away from the carnage.
Vintar soared high into the sky and scanned the horizon. Another ship was just in sight, a merchant vessel, and the young priest sped towards it. Dropping to where the captain stood by the tiller Vintar entered the man’s mind, screening out his thoughts of wife, family, pirates and bad winds. The ship was manned by two hundred rowers and thirty seamen; it was carrying wine from Lentria to the Naashanite port of Virinis.
Vintar flowed through the captain’s body, seeking control. In the lungs he found a small, malignant cancer. Swiftly Vintar neutralised it, accelerating the body’s healing mechanism to carry away the corrupt cell. Moving up once more into the brain, he made the captain swing the ship towards the north-west.
The captain was a kindly man, his thoughts mellow. He had seven children, and one of them - the youngest
