The Gazels

Chapter 8

His vision shifted, and he saw not only the white-shrouded form of a pubescent boy but also a tangle of mental energies, streams of color, power surging through its channels, sometimes flowing freely, sometimes pooling, stagnant and festering. The channels in the boy’s lower body, which normally carried both power and awakening s****l energy, were dangerously overloaded.

“How long has he been like this?” Damion heard his own words as if whispered from far away.

“He was fine this morning,” Dan responded. “Bright, a bit rebellious, a typical adolescent. I thought the trip to the market would do him good. Could he have been made ill by something he ate there?”

Damion shook his head. “I’m not a trained monitor, but I think it’s rare for the sickness to come on so fast and strong. Dan, what do you think?”

With a sense of inexpressible relief, Damion felt his bredhyu’s mind open to his, a flowing unity that he had never experienced with any other human being. Like Damion, Dan had not trained in a Tower, and like Damion, he was the sole possessor of a rare gift, that of catalyzing telepathy, of awakening latent talent. Unlike Damion, however, his own passage through the tumult of adolescent threshold sickness had been relatively benign.

Dan shifted, his mental touch like silk over water, and he said, in a voice that shimmered in Damion’s mind, “Where is his starstone?”

“His—you mean a matrix crystal?” Dan said. “As far as I know, he’s never had one. Where would he get it?”

Dan looked directly at Damion. “I’d stake my life this boy has keyed into a starstone. That’s why—”

Before he could go further, Felix gave a sudden cry. His body arched upward, straining at the bandages, almost ripping out the needle taped to his arm. Jason sprang into action at the same time Damion did, Dan a split instant later. Together, the two Darkovans managed to hold the convulsing boy. Damion felt a shock as he touched the boy’s skin with his bare hands. Energy, raw and directionless, surged just beneath the surface.

Deftly, Jason adjusted the intravenous apparatus. Damion could not see exactly what the doctor was doing, nor would he have understood if he could. Instead, he sensed a lessening of the frantic surge of power power and a softening of the boy’s muscles. A shudder ran the length of Felix’s body, and he sank back on the bed.

Damion drew his hands back, frowning. This was not a natural end to the spasm. The convulsions had not run their course, nor had the cause been remedied. He glanced at Jason.

“That will hold him for the moment,” Jason said. “I’ve increased the dosage of antiseizure medication to the maximum for his body mass. I dare not give him any more.”

Damion shook his head. “It’s not over.”

“I know, I know.” Sweating visibly, Jason raked his hair back from his forehead. “I don’t know what else to do for him. God help him if he has another attack. He could suffer permanent brain damage. That’s why I sent for you.”

From outside the door came the sound of a woman’s voice, taut with strain, and Tiphani’s frantic sobs.

“You’d best see to your wife.” Damion nodded to Dan, who hurried from the room.

After a few murmured words, footsteps receded down the corridor. The room fell into a hush, the three men and the boy lying so still he seemed to be not breathing.

“Dan—” Damion began. “You’re sure he has a starstone?”

Dan nodded. “Can’t you feel the vibrational pattern?”

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ÂUnder all that chaotic flow, who can tell anything? Damion frowned.

Maybe . . . Im not nearly as sensitive as you. If you say so, ll take your word on it.

I know what a starstone looks like,Jason said, puzzled. When Felix was admitted, he did not have one on his person or among his possessions. I thought that once a person had keyed into a stone, handling it or taking it away from him could kill him.

 For a long beat, neither Damion nor Dan breathed an answer. Slowly, Jason nodded. Oh

 If they failed to find and restore the psychoactive gem, the boys convulsions would get worse. Threshold sickness could be fatal. Damion had lost one of his few remaining nedestro children to it.

 Damion went to the door. The ebony-skinned nurse, still at his station, pointed toward a room at the end of the corridor. They went to the chape

 The door opened soundlessly at a touch. Unlike the chill, antiseptic furnishings of the rest of the building, this room struck Damion as Darkovan. Panels of chestnut-brown wood alternated with hangings in soft greens and blues. At the far end, light glowed softly behind panels of tinted glass patterned like trees and mountains. Even the air smelled fresher. To one side of the glass panels, a red votive light glimmered on a table set with various articles. Instruments of prayer, the Father Master at St. Valentines monastery would have called them. Damion recognized a cristoforo rosary, a stack of worn prayer books, a glass vessel filled with flower petals, a bell, and a bronze bowl and stick. Dan sat beside his wife on one of the simple wooden benches, his arm around her. Her back was bowed over so that her hair fell like a cascade of glossy curls over her face.

 Something in the tenderness of DaÂs posture, the way he stroked TiphaniâÂÂs hair, and the sweet rumble of his voice touched Damion unexpectedly. Beneath the fear lay a woman who was deeply loved, a mother grievously worried for her child.

 Damion took a seat beside her, beyond casual touch, yet close enough to feel the shimmer of almost-power emanating from her shuddering form. She was not council, she was not even Darkovan. He had encountered a range of telepathic talents in off-worlders in the last decade, since he had sent out an invitation throughout the Empire as part of Project Telepath. People with true psychic abilities, not parlor-trick charlatans, were rare, often near psychotic. Tiphani seemed sane enough, just distraught as any mother in this situation might be.

 The next moment, the awareness vanished. Tiphanis mind clamped down around her fragmentary gift so completely that she might not have had any telepathic ability at all. In her position as wife to the legate, she must have encountered psychically-Gifted council. Untrained and culturally isolated, she would have had no preparation for contact with other telepaths. The resulting confusion must have fueled discomfort, turning awkwardness into distrust, suspicion into outright hostility. apologize for the intrusion, Damion said, but for the sake of your son, I must ask you a few questions, Mestra Lawt.

 She gave a shuddering sigh and lifted her head. Huge violet eyes turned toward him. Even with her cheeks reddened with weeping, she was beautiful.

You arena doctor. What can you do?

Âe admitted, but nonetheless, I am here to help.

Dearest,Dan said, it wontt hurt to let him try.âÂÂ

 Tiphanis hands tightened around the object she held; Damion could not see exactly what it was, most likely some religious token. The hectic color drained from her cheeks, leaving her skin as clear as porcelain.

Im sorry,â she said in a voice that threatened to break. I was ungracious when your intentions were kind. I donâÂÂt know what I can add to Dr. Allison diagnosis.

Sometimes, an insignificant detail is the key, Damion said. While your memory is fresh, tell me as much as you can about your sonâÂÂs activities today. Did he seem in usual health in the morning? What did he buy in the market?âÂÂ

 âÂÂYouâÂÂre not suggesting I deliberately poisoned my own child!â Quivering in indignation, Tiphani gathered herself to spring to her feet. âÂÂOr exposed him toâÂÂI am a decent, God-fearing woman!âÂÂ

 Damion wondered what fear of any of the gods had to do with a sick child. âÂÂLet me understand you clearly, mestra. Neither of you made any purchases? Could the boy have acquired a small item without your knowledge?âÂÂ

 The woman glanced at her husband, her eyes streaked with red, and then at the altar. She slumped back on the bench. âÂÂI did my best. Daniel, believe me! I took the filthy thing away from him as soon as I realized. Oh God, itâÂÂs all my fault! If only I had not been weak in letting Felix have his way! If only I had watched him more closelyâÂÂâÂÂ

 She broke off, too distraught to continue. Dan did his best to comfort her. She turned her face against his shoulder.

 âÂÂYou took something away from Felix?â Dan murmured into her hair. âÂÂWhat was it?âÂÂ

 Tiphani fumbled in her breast pocket and drew out a wad of fabric tied with a drawstring, on a long loop made to be worn around the neck. The cloth was a handkerchief, the kind that could be purchased for a few reis in any market. A crude design had been painted on it. With disgust, Damion realized that it was a touristâÂÂs version of the pouches in which many council carried their personal starstones. His own matrix was shielded by triple layers of insulating silk. A piece of blue glass might well have substituted for a genuine matrix stone, which might be offensive but not criminal. Exposed to an unkeyed stone, without guidance or supervision, a latent telepath risked madness or death. Who in their right mind would sell such a thing?

 Only a head-b lind fool, who could not tell the difference . . . or someone who intended this to happen. Damion suppressed a twinge of paranoia, for the council had been particular targets of the World Wreckers assassins.

 Deliberately not looking at Damion, Tiphani thrust the little bag into her husbandâÂÂs hand.

 âÂÂIâÂÂd better take it,â Damion said. Handling the bag as if it were a snake that might bite him, Dan passed it over. Damion studied the little bundle for a moment, sensing a pulse of jagged power. The thin cloth provided a barrier to physical touch but none at all to psychic energy.

 IâÂÂm not a Keeper. I shouldnâÂÂt even be holding it. But who else was there? Thendara no longer possessed a working Tower, and Linnea Storn was hundreds of miles away. A tendril of longing brushed his heart. When she had left, after only a few years together, he had not realized how much he would miss her.

 He closed his fingers around the bag and said to Tiphani, âÂÂWhen you have recovered, join me in the boyâÂÂs room.â He did not dare to say more, to offer even the illusion of hope.

 When Damion returned to FelixâÂÂs room, the boyâÂÂs condition was unchanged. let out a low whistle as Damion held out the wad of cloth

 âÂÂIs that Jason asked.

 Damion nodded.Open one of the boys hands. ll drop it on his palm. We might need to close his fingers around it, but be careful not to touch the stone.

 The boy fingers were thin, yet long and graceful. There were only five of them, Damion noted, but many of the council had only five. Taking a deep breath, he lowered the bundle to the opened hand and drew out his eating knife.

Careful, Dan murmured.

Pray to your holy saints, Dan, that he doesnt have another seizure while IâÂÂm doing this.

 The sharp point of the knife slid easily beneath the knotted cord. The fibers parted with only a little resistance. Damion let out his breath. With his fingertips, he drew apart the folds of cloth. The boy moaned and whipped his head from side to side. Dan grabbed Felix forearm to hold it steady.

 A flash of blue-white light appeared in the folded cloth. Damion tipped the pouch, sliding the starstone onto Felixs exposed palm.

 Immediately, Damion had to look away. Ribbons of liquid light twisted within the heart of the stone. Nausea rose up in him, mixed with something akin to euphoria. Motes of brightness jigged and danced behind his eyes, as they had when he almost di

ed from threshold sickness.

 With a practiced mental gesture, Damion raised his barriers. The sensations ended abruptly. He knew that what he had experienced was only a fraction of what raged through the boys mind. He remembered how his older sister, Javanne, had guided him through attuning his starstone to his mind.