20. Thirst Trap (Adranaya)¶
Adra wondered whose job it had been to trap dozens of mosquitos in a glass jar. Had some poor novitiate earned one too many demerits, or had someone been insane enough to volunteer, using their own flesh as bait? Even she didn’t enjoy suffering quite that much.
“Today,” said Preceptor Jovadão, his deep voice rolling across the chamber, “we’re going to observe an important point about channeling the flowstream. I need a volunteer.” No one moved. “What, a bunch of future Sihiri afraid of a few bugs? If no one volunteers, I’ll pick someone.” The room remained silent. “No? Fine. Vaye, you’re today’s champion.”
The Anashi sighed and stood up. Although she acted put-upon, Vaye clearly liked Jovadão, and Adra understood why. Unlike the other Preceptors, the Cantereian treated her like any other novitiate, neither ignoring her nor treating her like an exotic predator.
Gadarien, of course, was another matter. During Jovadão’s lessons, he remained stoic and polite, never letting his emotions show. If she hadn’t known him so well, Adra might have been fooled, but the contrast to his normal effusiveness was stark. Watching his jaw muscles clench, Adra suspected that his feelings toward Jovadão went beyond mere dislike, although he refused to explain why.
“The flowstream emerges from flowsprings,” Jovadão said as Vaye made her way to the front. “We’re not sure why, but flowsprings occur naturally in large population centers, and meridians connect the network of flowsprings to each other. The closer you are to a flowspring or a meridian, the easier it is to tap into the flowstream. It doesn’t matter if you’re a Sihir or a Feiçeira or a Dzharian rivercarver—all sorcery channels the flowstream.
“The flowstream is the source of our power, but is not, in itself, power. The flowstream is information, the power of perception. It doesn’t make you stronger, but it makes you more efficient, so you seem stronger. It doesn’t make you faster, but it lets you predict your opponent’s movements, so you seem faster. But what are the long-term effects of sorcery? What happens to your body and mind if you continue to channel the flowstream, year after year?”
The novitiates looked at each other blankly. Their lessons hadn’t covered this before.
“Nothing,” the Cantereian said, smiling. “Your power stays the same. It’s like using your voice. You can use it all day and still sing the next day as long as you don’t overdo it. You won’t be harmed—but you won’t get any stronger, either. Part of what you’re here to learn is how to gradually, safely increase your capacity. Do it the way we teach you, and your power will grow until you find your natural limit, which will determine where in the Vorkyrda’s flowtree you’ll be placed.” Jovadão paused. “I want to emphasize that there’s no shame in having a lower capacity. Leaves are just as important to a tree as its branches. Placement in the flowtree is only one way of serving the Helix. And your flow capacity says nothing about your other skills, such as discipline, leadership, and organization.”
A few of the novitiates were nodding, but Hainzu and his smug little clique smirked in the corner—certain, despite all evidence to the contrary, that they would end up near the trunk of the Vorkyrda’s flowtree. From what Adra had seen, Hainzu’s flow capacity was middling at best. And unlike everything else in his life, his capacity couldn’t be faked or smoothed over by a well-placed endowment in his family’s name.
She forced her fists to unclench. Her anger was irrational, but she knew why Hainzu and his ilk enraged her. It was because, fundamentally, she was just like him. Despite her sympathies for the downtrodden, she would always have more in common with him than with Cantereians or Anashim, and there was nothing she could do to change that. But that didn’t mean she had to like it.
The affable Dzharian girl, Ladrana, knocked on her desk with a question.”What about Apogees, Preceptor?” Ladrana said.
Whispers fluttered through the room, but Jovadão waved the novitiates into silence, agitating the mosquitos in the jar. “Apogees have the same limitations as the rest of us. It’s just that their thresholds are higher, so they rarely get flowsick. Don’t worry about Apogees. They can’t bear children, which is why their siblings must do so, and they’re almost always born from Apogee lineages. If any of you were an Apogee, we’d already know. I’ve watched you train. You’re not.” He glared around the room with mock intensity, and the class grumbled good-naturedly until he snapped his fingers.
“Back to the lesson,” he continued. “You can strengthen your capacity gradually, like a muscle. Conduct too much, too fast, and you’ll get flowsick. Believe me when I say you won’t like it.”
Gadarien and Adra shared a sheepish grin. They had already gone down that road. The next morning had reminded Adra of the hangover she’d once earned from a very exciting, very stupid night in Kizdesh involving a troupe of traveling musicians and three bottles of goldenwine she’d stolen from her father’s cellar. Unlike the hangover, her flowsickness had taken three days to dissipate. Still, she and Gadarien had eventually recovered and found their capacity significantly increased. They were even planning to try it again.
“Flowsickness probably won’t kill you, although you might wish it had,” Jovadão continued. “But if you take it too far, it can cause permanent damage, or even drive you mad. Imagine if you were blind your whole life, and suddenly you had the combined sight of a thousand people. You wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
Jovadão turned to Vaye. “Your arm, please. And keep it still,” he said. The Anashi dubiously extended her limb. He opened the jar and swiftly upended it over her forearm. The mosquitos flapped around angrily until one of them landed on Vaye’s skin and began to bite. Jovadão smoothly pulled the jar away and put the lid back on, laying his hand gently on Vaye’s upper arm. The Anashi pressed her lips together, desperately trying not to move.
“There’s a strong flowspring, the Madrafar, beneath the Hall of Vapors. It’s what allows the Eyewall to exist. The amount of information passing through a flowspring is enough to power an army, assuming you have an Apogee to focus it and channel it downstream. Some flowsprings, however, tend to surge unpredictably. An Apogee like the Vorkyrda can handle those swells, but if any of you were to try it...”
Jovadão squeezed Vaye’s bicep and slid his hand sharply downward, sending a burst of blood into her arteries. The unlucky mosquito exploded, drawing sounds of disgust from the watching novitiates.
“Don’t scratch that, it’ll make it worse,” Jovadão said. He fished in his pocket and handed Vaye a serrated leaf. “Here, rub this on the bite.”
Vaye scowled and went back to her seat, pressing the leaf to her skin and sullenly scratching the area all around it. Even doing that, the Anashi somehow exuded a tightly-wound, mysterious charisma. Adra watched Gadarien watching Vaye, noting his thirst. There was something about the Anashi that attracted them both, a signal that drew them to drink from her unfathomable depths. Would they slake their thirst despite the danger? Or would they do so, perhaps, because of it?
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