The discussion stalled as one of the younger men began carrying on about the distantly related topic of reworking the provision arrangement for the Sept Son’s sons. I sought out Errol’s mind. “May I respectfully request a recess?”
Errol turned his head and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “What is the hurry?”
“I promised Donellea Ilar a tour of the gardens this morning in payment for my rudeness last evening. I am already late.”
“I will see what I can do.” Errol returned his attention to Tristan. I picked up a small sending and within minutes Tristan dismissed the meeting.
“I am impressed.”
“Don’t be, he was thinking the same thing. All I did was suggest that we end now because I had an appointment to keep.”
“Thank you.” I rose with the others and turned to take a short cut out the tall glass doors into the gardens.
“Greet Zezilia for me. I shall be seeking her out later after I have another argument with her father.”
I stepped out into the warm humid air wondering what argument Errol was going to use to convince strong-minded Ostin Ilar that he should allow his daughter to be trained. Then I put the thought from my mind. I had a duty to perform.
Slipping through the bushes that lined the carefully trimmed paths, I cut across the manicured lawns. I didn’t truly expect her to be still waiting where I asked, but it would be a good place to start looking.
As I anticipated, the bench beneath the willow was empty.
“Master Aleron.” I turned at the sound to find her watching me with great amusement in her grey eyes. Only then did I realize that I probably looked quite foolish bursting through the shrubbery and scanning the area like a man searching for a lost glove. However, before I could make a better impression, she laughed.
I tried to compose myself in a manner better befitting my age and station. But, when I beheld her amusement at my expense, I suddenly realized that it was the first time I had seen her smile. It lit up her face in a way that was quite enchanting. I couldn’t help but appreciate the change. I decided to play along. Sweeping a deep bow, I said, “My dear Donellea Ilar, I must yet again request your graceful forgiveness.”
Zezilia
“ALL IS FORGIVEN,” I assured him, but he wouldn’t hear of it.
“Don’t you know that you are required to make me suffer?” His dark eyes were only half serious while his face looked severe. “Please ask a boon of me for being so thoughtless.”
I studied him for a moment, unsure whether or not he was teasing me. Well, teasing or not there was something that he could do for me. “You can answer my questions.”
He inclined his head. “With pleasure.” Then gesturing toward the path, he asked, “Shall we walk and talk?”
I agreed and we set off.
“Is it true that there are talented females?”
“Yes, I have encountered a few and I have heard of more.”
“Master Silas informs me that I am one,” I told him.
He nodded while studying the path ahead. “I would agree. You certainly are receptive to sending, which is the first sign.”
I frowned. Master Silas’ touch and the word in my mind had been vastly different than the sending from Master Aleron. “Does it always feel like that?”
He looked over at me and quirked an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“You know, a taste in the mouth and the pressure of something touching inside your head.” I struggled to find the words for the feeling, but those were all that came and they seemed inadequate.
“The taste, yes,” he agreed. “Each sender has a different taste and some have sensations that come with the words.”
“So, every time Master Silas sends a thought to you, your mouth tastes plums.” I looked up at him.
He smiled and nodded. “Yes.”
“What do I taste like?” I asked.
He laughed and stopped. “You are the first person to ask me that.”
“You mean you don’t know what you taste like?”
He smiled at that. “I have been told my taste defies description. I am not saying it to be prideful. There just isn’t a substance that anyone knows of that matches mine.”
I nodded. That I believed. His taste was different than anything I had ever tasted. “When you interrupted my thoughts, did you...” I looked up to find him watching my face with a thoughtful look. “Am I wrong to ask?”
“No,” he replied slowly. “I just...” Then suddenly turning away, he began striding down the path toward the water gardens. I had to trot at a very unladylike pace to keep up with him.
“I am sorry,” I offered.
“Don’t be.”
“But I must have offended you and I am sorry.”
He stopped abruptly. I took two additional steps before stopping a little ahead of him. When I turned back to ask what was bothering him, I found his dark eyes watching me with a peculiar expression. “Would you allow me to touch your thoughts again?” he asked.
I could think of no reason to not let him. It wasn’t as if I could do anything to stop him if he truly wanted to touch them. “Only if you tell me my taste,” I demanded.
“Agreed.” Then taking my hand, he drew me aside behind a clump of jurnar bushes. The jurnars’ thick leaves and heavy blossoms effectively hid our presence from the path. Releasing my hands, he stepped back and closed his eyes.
“Don’t you need to touch my forehead?” I asked, remembering Master Silas’ sending.
He shook his head. “I brushed your thoughts from across the room last night. Now concentrate on relaxing.”
I took a deep breath and watched his face as I waited for that strange taste to come again.
“Can you hear me?” The words blossomed my head as his heady taste flooded my taste buds.
“Yes,” I said aloud.
“Good,” he
