Archon (17 page)

“Today we are going to move rice,” Taemon said. “This is how my da taught me. Watch me, now. Look at the rice. Connect with the rice. Tell the rice where to go. Like this.”

Taemon used psi to move the little brown grains closest to him. When he finished, he’d spelled out a message:
IGNORE WHAT I SAY. WATCH THE RICE.

He made sure to move some of the grains that the captain could see, too, to avoid arousing suspicion.

Conspiratorial grins broke out on his students’ faces, their eyes glued to the rice.

“Did you all see what I did just now?” Taemon said.

The students nodded.

“We are going to stare at this rice for the next few moments. You are to meditate as you do so. This will teach you to make a mental connection to the rice.”

Using psi, he spelled out another message for the children:
IF YOU CAN TALK TO PEOPLE IN THEIR MINDS, IT’S CALLED TELEPATHY. CAN ANY OF YOU DO THIS?

I can.

Taemon turned and smiled at Saunch, whose voice had come to his mind.

Saunch could hardly keep still.
Does that mean I have telepathy? Am I really exercising dominion?

YES.

Neeza can do it, too. We talk sometimes.

Taemon looked around the circle and saw another child looking at him shyly.

Hello,
came another little voice in his head.

Taemon spelled out another rice message.
DOES THE CAPTAIN KNOW?

Both voices in his head were emphatic.
No!

We’d get in a lot of trouble,
Saunch added.

UNDERSTOOD,
he spelled out. Then he made his expression stern. “Enough meditating,” he barked, loudly enough for the captain to hear. “Now use dominion to move the rice!”

The rice experiment proved incredibly successful. Granted, Taemon hadn’t managed to get any of his archons to move even one grain of rice, but he’d determined that Saunch and Neeza had telepathy; Berliott, Cindahad, and Pik had remote viewing; and Wendomer had clairvoyance. Combined with yesterday’s revelation about Mirtala, the girl who’d touched the scarf and displayed psychometry and retrocognition, he now knew without a doubt that these archons were a force to be reckoned with.

The only thing he hadn’t found was precognition.

He knew what he was expected to do with this information: share it with the general and help him to see how useful these special archons could be to his campaign. But Taemon wasn’t Yens, and the last thing he wanted to do was help the general use these seven children as weapons. No, he’d keep quiet for now, pretending to be frustrated and confused by their inability to learn even the simplest psi techniques.

But that, too, was a dangerous game. He knew what would happen to
him
if he failed to teach them how to use dominion — but what would happen to
them
?

Taemon spent most of his lunch break pacing his small room. Tomorrow was his last day. He’d pretend to try to get the archons to use telekinesis for one more day, then they’d take him to the dungeon, where he would be reunited with Da and break them out of the outpost. But what about the archons? What would happen to them after he left? They would never be able to do what Captain Dehue and General Sarin expected of them. What would they do with the seven “freakling” archons? They were so young.

And he was so stupid! Even after he’d told himself not to care about these children, he’d done it anyway. He knew all their names, and each one had a distinct personality. He hated to think what would happen to them when Captain Dehue and the general determined that they were failures. But he had no choice. He had to find his da. He had to.

In the afternoon session, they played a basic version of psiball, a game that every child in Deliverance had mastered by the time they were this age. Taemon laid a hoop on the floor in the middle of the room. The object was for each player to use psi to roll his or her ball into the hoop. Players could use psi to knock their opponents’ balls out of the hoop, too. He knew by now that telekinesis was out of the question for these kids, but they had to do something — and they might as well have a little fun while doing it. Skies knew these children had seen little enough fun in their lives.

Every once in a while, Taemon would stop and say sternly, “Now try it with dominion.” And they’d all dutifully act like they were trying for a few minutes. But of course nothing happened, so Taemon would give them permission go back to the powerless way.

“Nice roll, Cindahad!” Taemon said. “Let’s see if Wendomer can beat that.”

This reminds me of the other Nathanite.
Saunch’s voice came to his mind.
He played games with us once.

The other Nathanite! Why hadn’t it ever occurred to him to ask the archons about the other trainer — about his da?
Perhaps if I shield my voice, I can ask them about Da,
he thought, moving around the hoop till his back was to the captain.

That was your da?
Saunch asked.
The man who was here before?

Taemon froze. How had Saunch known what he’d been thinking?
Can you . . . ? Can you hear my thoughts, Saunch?

Yes, sir. I mean, yes, Yens. I didn’t know you had telepathy like me and Neeza!

I don’t,
Taemon replied.
You must be able to read thoughts as well as transmit them,
he said. Taemon had never heard of such an ability. Were there types of psi in the Republik that even Challis didn’t know existed?

But Saunch was shaking his head.
No, sir. It’s you who’s in my head. You and Neeza. And only when you’re trying to talk to me.

Taemon’s mind was reeling. Vaguely, he was aware of the game stopping, and of Captain Dehue yelling something. But he stood frozen in place, grappling with the significance of what he’d just learned. It wasn’t until the captain turned up her device and the ear-splitting noise filled Taemon’s head that he snapped out of his shock.

“
Class dismissed!” Captain Dehue shouted, and the seven archons filed out of the room.

Before dinner, the general made his appearance. “One entire morning staring at rice, followed by an afternoon of ball games. Ridiculous.”

“It’s how my da taught me,” Taemon said. “I thought it might work.”

“And did it work?”

“No,” Taemon said, knowing full well that the general was aware of this fact. “I’ll try harder tomorrow, sir.”

“I suggest that you do,” the general said. “I need results, Yens! You have one more day and no more. If I don’t see something, you’ll end up where your countryman did, in the dungeon.”

“Understood, sir,” Taemon said meekly.

The general studied his face. “You seem remarkably unruffled by the prospect of spending your remaining years behind bars. Perhaps I should have mentioned earlier that we have room for only one prisoner in our dungeon. If you fail me, I’ll have to have your countryman killed to make room for you.”

Taemon gasped before he could stop himself.

“I see that you’re starting to understand. If you go to the dungeon, how long will you have till someone else is sent there?”

That was hardly Taemon’s biggest concern. His plan for rescuing Da had depended on their being reunited in the dungeon! He couldn’t fail tomorrow, or his da would die. But he knew he’d never be able to teach these children to be what the general wanted. What was he going to do?

“I know you have incredible capacity for dominion,” the general said softly. He chuckled in a way that made Taemon cringe. “We had to turn the disrupter device up as high as it would go to suppress your dominion. What I don’t understand is why you won’t exercise it.”

Taemon started to argue, but the general cut him off.

“Oh, you’ll use it to do little things, like stack boxes or move grains of rice. But we both know you’re capable of so much more. You’re the True Son, for the gods’ sakes! You could have torn this place down around our ears! So why haven’t you?”

“I’m an emissary of Elder Naseph,” Taemon said carefully. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything that might bring dishonor upon his name.”

The general grunted. Then he walked to the end of the room and made a show of placing the portable disrupter on the floor by the door. He held his arms out in a gracious gesture. “You are free to use dominion. Impress me.”

I could kill you right now,
Taemon thought. He studied the general’s face, trying to determine if the man had heard him. But the general’s expression betrayed nothing.

If ever there had been a man worth killing, it was the general. He was dangerous in a way that Yens never had been — even in a way that Elder Naseph never had been. Because the general wasn’t content with just ruling over his own little part of the world. No, the general had much bigger goals. Much more dangerous goals.

If Taemon killed the general, it would put an end to the threat against Deliverance, and to the threat against Gevri. It would also free all those children being trained as weapons. It could put a stop to a war that had been raging for hundreds of years — and prevent one that was on the brink of beginning.

You have my permission to end his life.

Skies! He’d heard those exact words once before, when Yens had tried to kill him. The Heart of the Earth was giving him permission to kill the general, just as she’d given him permission to kill Yens.

But Taemon hadn’t been able to kill then. And he knew he couldn’t kill now.

“For the gods’ sakes, boy! Do something!” the general shouted.

Taemon looked around the room. What could he do? Everything was molded from solid rock. There was nothing to —

Taemon turned back to the general. The man had a gun pointed straight at him. “Do something,” the general whispered.

Taemon did the first thing that came to his mind: he used clairvoyance to look inside the gun, perceiving all its inner workings and intricate parts. Then he pictured the gun separating, all the pieces falling harmlessly at his feet.
Be it so!

As the metal pieces clattered to the floor, a sharp pain knifed through him. Taemon grunted and leaned forward, clutching his left side. His left leg gave out from under him, and he sprawled on the floor, staring at the disassembled gun.

“Ah,” the general said. “Now I see. Your injury is bonded with your dominion. I’ve read about cases like this, though I’ve never seen one before.”

Taemon didn’t want to continue this conversation. Using his good arm and leg, he hefted himself upright and leaned against the bed.

“Yens, you are in a unique position. You have experience that I lack.”

Taemon eyed the general with suspicion. “You seem to be doing fine without me.”

“We’ve gone as far as we can developing dominion in these young people. We are now at a standstill. I need you to teach advanced techniques to my archons. And you need me to heal your injury.”

“I can’t even teach your youngest archons how to manifest their dominion. What makes you think I can teach the others advanced techniques?”

“Perhaps your talents have been wasted on our duds,” the general said. Taemon flinched at the familiar slur. Let me help you. My medical officer can repair the nerve damage across the left side of your body.”

“It’ll get better on its own. It just needs time.”

“Has it been getting better?” Taemon’s silence was answer enough. “From what I’ve read, these things only get worse without treatment. We can fix it.”

But at what cost?
Taemon wondered. “Your offer is tempting,” he lied. “But I’m afraid I don’t trust you enough to let your people treat me.” That, at least, was the truth.

“There will be other benefits as well, just as Naseph and I agreed. You’ll lead the archon regiment. You’ll have a say in everything we do.”

Skies, the man was relentless! If Taemon didn’t know better, he’d think the general was desperate for his help. But that would mean his threats about the dungeon — and about killing Da — didn’t hold water.

“If I let you help me,” Taemon began carefully, “what will you expect of me, exactly?”

The general smiled, though there was no humor in it. “You can’t really expect me to give away so much before you’ve given away anything, now, can you? First you must consent to see our medic. Then, when you’re back on your feet”— he nodded at Taemon, still propping himself up against his bed —“we can talk about what comes next.”

“I’ll . . . I’ll think about it,” Taemon said at last.

General Sarin’s steely gaze gave nothing away, and Taemon did his best to make his expression likewise inscrutable.

“There are things you’re withholding from me, Yens. Your injury, for one. And why you’re playing games with my young archons. I trust you know better than to try to make a move against me. Such efforts would be futile — and perhaps even deadly.”

The general picked up the disrupter and the gun parts, then put the pieces in his pocket. “I’ll need your answer in the morning.”

And with that, the general walked to the door. He opened it, then paused — clearly aware that Taemon was in no position to make a break for it. “One more thing, Yens. What made you think of taking the gun apart?”