She’d told me how she disassembled the process by breaking it down to first principles so that she could build it back up. When she talked about Augmenting, she did so in clear, precise terms. She could tell you exactly where in her body a channel ran, how far it went, and how much the power she channeled had grown over a week, a month, or a year.
As different as they were, both approaches helped me. From Vesma, I learned to refine my technique, to subtly alter the channels within me to more precise and sophisticated forms. From Kegohr, I learned how to feel my way through what was happening to me, to sense whether something was going well or badly, to operate on instinct when I didn’t have time for careful calculation. It wasn’t only my fire Augmenting that was getting stronger as we developed those skills together, but my wood Augmenting too. My Stinging Palm technique, with thorns that had initially been little more than an annoyance, could now knock holes through targets and be used to hunt birds.
“…like this, you can make your Flame Shield stronger,” Vesma said as I brought my attention back to the conversation. “As long as you actually think about what you’re doing.”
“I dunno,” Kegohr said. “I don’t get half this stuff you’re saying. Can I really make it better?”
“You can do more than that,” growled a low voice from further down the table.
We turned to see Rutmonlir sitting over a steaming bowl, his tangled beard wet with soup.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Rutmonlir put his spoon down and turned to look at us. “The best your class has to offer, and you still miss the piss-easy stuff,” he said. “Xilarion should be embarrassed at the state of our recruits.”
I held back a retort. By now, I knew that this was just Rutmonlir’s way of motivating us.
“Tell us more,” Vesma said.
Rutmonlir peered back down at his soup, and I thought we’d failed some sort of test, that he’d decided we weren’t worth the effort. But then, he dipped his fingers into the soup, fished out a noodle, and held it up for us to see.
“The way you talk about your channels; it’s all subtle refinement.” He tugged on the bottom end of the noodle and pulled it taught. Its little kinks and bends disappeared before it turned into something straight as an arrow. “It’s like you’ve smoothed the sides of the path, but it’s still the same path, and it’ll still only go to the same place. So, how can you make it do something different?”
“Different cores,” Kegohr said. “But we already know that.”
“Would I waste my time telling you something you already know? Think again, you ugly bastards.”
I looked down into my bowl, searching for inspiration among my own noodles. A thought crossed my mind, but I couldn’t tell if it was innovative or just stupid. Was I thinking outside the box or outside what was possible in this world?
Only one way to find out. I fished a noodle out of the bowl and held it up as Rutmonlir had.
“We don’t make a better version of the current shape.” I took hold of the bottom of the noodle, but instead of pulling it tight, I brought it up and formed a loop. “We make a different shape.”
“Bra-bloody-vo.” Rutmonlir clapped slowly.
“But the channels need their shapes to work,” Vesma said.
“They need to start in set places,” Rutmonlir clarified. “End in others. Go through certain points along the way so that your body can direct the power. But the route they take, that’s something you can change. If you’ve actually got any brains, that is.”
He pushed his soup away and stood up. “Course, I wouldn’t bet on that,” he said as he walked away. “But if any bastards in this class can do it, it’s you three.”
“I say we give it a try,” I said after Rutmonlir had left. “Follow me.”
I took my friends to the practice yard. It was empty save for Veltai and Ho Yin. The rest of the initiates had likely retired for the day after a lengthy journey up the mountainside.
Kegohr immediately turned around and started walking back toward the guild house.
I grabbed him before he could leave. “Where are you going?”
“Uh, uh, uh.” He licked his lips, and his gray tongue flashed across his fang-like teeth.
“It’s Veltai.” Vesma palmed her face and shook her head.
I turned to Kegohr. “You don’t like her?”
Kegohr shrugged, and his face reddened a little.
Veltai screamed as she attacked a practice dummy with her nunchucks. Her victim exploded into a shower of straw, and she danced around the next one before clobbering it apart. The sleeves of her robes had been cut, and the muscles in her arms tensed and loosed with each strike. I was no slouch, but her biceps were easily twice the size of mine. Every time she struck home, her face morphed into a vicious snarl far uglier than her resting expression. I would have thought it impossible for Veltai to look any less attractive if I wasn’t witnessing her right now. I appreciated strength and skill, but she fought with a brutality that made my stomach lurch.
“Wow, wow, wow,” Kegohr whispered under his breath. “She’s beautiful.”
I shot my friend a look of disbelief. “Yeah, she’s really something.”
“Take a look at Yo Hin,” Vesma said with a snicker. “What in the seventh realm is he doing?”
Yo Hin seemed almost dwarved by his practice dummy, and rather than attack it, he kept trying to jump over it. Every leap was unsuccessful, and I started
