“You’re wasting Gift,” Zoland repeated.
I mentally pulled on the thread of Gift that fueled the flames. As I did so, I imagined the wall growing thinner as its supply lessened.
“Good, good. Hotter.”
My jaw ached with tension. Intensifying spells while using less Gift gave me trouble. One or the other, fine, but both didn’t make sense to me. Because magic depended on visualization, it really needed to make sense. Or be intuitive.
Zoland shook his head as nothing happened. “Efficiency, Adara. Every speck of your Gift must do two jobs, often ones that conflict. Pull back.”
I brought in my Gift, another new technique. Instead of letting the magic dissipate, I recaptured as much as I could. It made me wonder if one person’s Gift could be absorbed by another person.
“Let me see if I can find a better way to describe what I wish you to do,” Zoland said. He went to a bookshelf while I perched on the edge of our furniture-jumble.
Zoland set a book on a pile and opened another. “If only I knew how Thorkel managed such massive energy conservation.”
The sapphire hung heavy under my shirt. Zoland stressed magic conservation because Thorkel’s favorite tactic was to deplete an opponent’s magic before he himself ran out. Zoland didn’t know that Thorkel used strategies other than conservation.
“Knowing your enemies, thinking like them, that is the key,” Zoland muttered. His furrowed brow relaxed and he tapped a page. “Here. Read this.”
As I accepted the book, a small pressure appeared behind my eyes. I excused myself and let Mettalise mentally enter.
*It’s tonight,* Mettalise burst. Frustration, anger, and despair struck me. *Raul says he’s taking Tressa on a moonlight picnic and proposing. Shamino won’t tell Raul where they’re going for fear of Raul attacking them. I told Raul to be more subtle!*
I sank into an overstuffed chair and stared blankly at the open book in my lap. *This morning, he did say it would end soon. We… shouldn’t be upset.*
*I am upset and Raul’s upset and if you weren’t so fuzz-brained you’d be upset, too!* Mettalise’s agitation spiked, and I expected she had smashed her tail into something. *The person you care about most is about to ruin your life and his own, and you’re simply letting it happen!*
“Is something the matter?” Zoland said in a soft voice. “If we need to continue tomorrow…”
“Oh? Oh.” I blocked Mettalise and looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. In reality, I saw nothing. “Just some… news.” At his patient silence, I added, “Shamino is proposing tonight to Tressa of Blackveil.”
“Ah.” Zoland pulled a chair closer to mine and regarded me. “I hear both praise and an equal amount of protest for the match. Judging by your expression, I suspect you’re one of the latter.”
“He’s made his choice.” I bent over the book.
Zoland closed it in my lap. “No magic while emotions run high. I am guessing this is the reason for your sudden decision to take my advice regarding the war?”
I flushed. My wrist throbbed every time I thought about that letter, and every time it throbbed I felt shame for giving in to Tressa’s demands. “The Quarters aren’t what they once were.”
“They cannot be, when the Seneschal neglects his duties.”
Little by little, Zoland drew me out. I told him about Shamino’s changed behavior, of the worries the humans and the dragons of Quarters had for him. As talking became easier, I added Shamino’s conflict with Raul. I never mentioned Shamino’s feelings for me, or mine for him, but Zoland surely guessed. As absent-minded as he appeared, he noticed everything. I even suspected he had pieced together my background.
“You are right,” Zoland said when I’d finished, “Shamino makes his own choices and must live with the consequences. But I have one thing to say to you: Know your enemy.”
“Excuse me?”
“Tressa. Your enemy.”
“She’s not—I mean, I really—”
“Listen to yourself,” Zoland said. “You, and others, agree that Shamino is not acting himself. Love or desperation can indeed alter a man, but he is displaying signs of neither emotion. Therefore…”
Long seconds passed as I tried to figure out where he was leading. “Magic? You think Tressa is using magic to manipulate him? That’s not possible.”
Zoland’s eyebrow rose, which told me it was not only possible, but I should know how. It had to be a rare skill, and Zoland had made me read a book on—
“A Jeweltongue,” I breathed. Suddenly everything made sense. “Tressa is a Jeweltongue.”
I raised my wrist, displaying the lingering bruise. Jeweltongues worked through touch. A thousand images flashed through my mind: Tressa patting my arm to reassure me; her desperate attempts to touch me at the ball when I criticized her behavior toward Paige; the thousands of times she touched Jerroth when he disagreed…
I rarely saw Tressa with Shamino, but every time I did, she hung on his arm.
“He doesn’t even want to court her,” I said. “And tonight, he’s asking her to marry him.”
Zoland raised a hand. “The precise working of the magic is a mystery, for Jeweltongues tend to hide their abilities. It has been confirmed, however, that the seed of belief must be in the target for the magic to work. Thoughts and feelings are amplified by a Jeweltongue. Not created.”
Thus Shamino’s impression—and my own—of Tressa being the perfect wife had been transformed into a certainty.
“Shamino really is about to make the biggest mistake of his life.” I stood and the forgotten book tumbled to the ground. “I have to stop him.”
“Do so carefully,” Zoland warned. He blocked my movements to the door until I paid attention. “Knowing about the magic is the only defense against persuasion. A person caught in its throes often exhibits withdrawal if the connection is severed abruptly.”
Like Jerroth. Tressa hadn’t said goodbye to him in person; she’d done it through a note.
“Shamino hasn’t
