Page 90 of The Half King
“There is nooff.”
“See how much I have to learn?”
Nero sucked an extra-long pull from his pipe as if drawing fortification for some great test of patience. After two more puffs, he nodded. “Fine. Tell me what happened when you used your energy.”
“The first time was an accident,” she said. “I was watching the sunrise this morning, and then magic came up through my body and broke the rock I was leaning against.”
Nero wrinkled his forehead, but luckily he didn’t ask for more details. The last thing she wanted to do was share the events of her sensual awakening with him.
“And the second time?” he asked.
“The second time was on purpose,” she said. “I tried to lift a sand melon out of the ground, and it exploded. After that, I had to take—”
“Wait,” he interrupted. “Go back to the sand melon. How did you try?”
“What do you mean?”
“Think,” he said. “Explain your steps to me.”
“I sort of…stared at it really hard.” She balled her fists and strained in demonstration. “Then I used my mind to—”
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “That was your mistake. You felt tired after, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I thought it was because I killed a living thing.”
His answering chuckle made her feel like a fool. He lifted an apologetic hand to fend off a glare. “If melons had beating hearts, you would be right. It takes more energy than anything else to stop a heart. You were tired because you used your head to channel your power instead of letting it flow from here.” He tapped his chest. “That’s like walking on your hands instead of your feet.”
She massaged the joining of her ribs. If there was a hidden power within her, she didn’t feel it.
“It’s easy.” He passed her the pipe. “Easier if you relax.”
She puffed once, twice, three times. A gradual calm descended over her, unwinding muscles she hadn’t known were clenched.
“The power is there, ready and waiting for you to use it. You simply”—he exhaled—“let it out.” He took back his pipe and resumed smoking it as he continued the lesson. “Energy isn’t a muscle to be flexed.”
She had a hard time believing it was really that simple.
“Think about your temple priests,” he said. “Have you ever seen them struggle or strain when they cast enchantments?”
“No.”
“If it feels like work, you’re doing it wrong.”
“I’ve seen them struggle afterward, though,” she pointed out. She thought of Father Diaz, who had collapsed after killing a badger at the temple. And the city priest whose knees had given out after he’d calmed the angry crowd. Even Father Padron had fallen off of his horse after he’d dispatched the titan hyena pack. “If the energy is there and using it doesn’t take work, why does it make the priests weak?”
Nero nodded as if to say,Good question. He removed the waterskin from his hip and poked the tiniest of holes in it before cupping the leak in his palm. “Your magic is like this skin. The energy is there, but you can’t use it all at once. You can only draw from what’s in your cup.” He slurped the water from his hand and flashed a damp palm. “To drain the whole reserve will exhaust you.”
She pointed at the leak. “Does it drip that slowly for everyone?”
He gave a casual shrug, but his gaze faltered, and his ears reddened at the tips. “It does for me. That’s why I save my energy for important things.” He passed a hand over the leather and used his magic to mend it. “For some, it flows quickly. And for others”—he peeked up—“like your high priest, the energy is a torrent of floodwater gushing through the gaps of a broken dam.”
Cerise hugged herself. She didn’t want to talk about Father Padron. “Show me what to do. Something simple, so we don’t drain our cups.”
“Motion,” he decided, gesturing toward the water that trickled down the wall. “To generate the force to move something light uses almost no magic.”
She nodded. “I’m listening.”
“We’re going to redirect one of these streams.” He pointed at a downward rivulet, and the water changed paths right before her eyes.
