Five: Jennail Is Diagnosed

September 19, 1983 Ethelden Palace; Amhurst, Veronaville



"Do you want me to answer truthfully or do you want me to spare your feelings?" Kvornan had a cocky way of holding his posture and the boyish charm of it was starting to wear thin for Jennail. That, and the presumptuous faux chivalry of his ultimatum. Truth or dignity? Jennail was not a delicate flower with feelings that needed to be spared.

"Truthfully. I always want you to answer truthfully." Kvornan leaned forward on the ottoman and clasped his fingers between his knees.

"It isn't that you're inept. Most of your trouble is that you're simply too uptight. You need to loosen up. Mind your breathing." The floor around him was littered with books, all of which Jennail had managed to topple from the shelf above Kvornan's head. This would have been impressive if not for fact that she had been attempting to lift a peach from the tray on the table. Kvornan bent down to pick up a book, keeping his eyes on Jennail. It was a gray and musty thing with tea or coffee stains forming interlocking O's along the cover. Kvornan held the book chest high and released it. It remained suspended in mid-air, spinning on the axis of its spine."You have all the tools necessary for basic stuff like this. You just can't seem to release them. It's like you're magically constipated," he said. Jennail threw her hands up in exasperation at the boy.



"Well thank you for the diagnosis, Doctor Tanner. What would you have said if I'd asked you to spare my feelings?" Kvornan lowered the book to the floor.

"I'd have said that the learning curve is different for everyone and sometimes mastering a skill takes a little extra time." Jennail snorted. He was clever. She would give him that.

"You're a better bullshitter than you aught to be, my lord."

"I disagree. I am exactly as good of a bullshitter as I should to be." This was followed by a silence that was neither awkward nor empty but ruminative. Jennail had some time to think since the previous night when she had trusted him enough to let him alter the very gravity that glued her to the ground. He had known just what to say and do then. Was this the same boy that she had met in the labyrinth? Maybe he was manipulating her. Maybe. But so long as they could both acknowledge what was happening between them, she would not be the one to fold first. Jennail loosened the scarf around her neck and cleared her throat.

"Right. So I prance about all fancy-free, pack up my troubles in an old kit bag or whatever and then I should have enough magic to be able to walk on water. Correct?" she said. Kvornan shook his head.



"Well, no. You can lift a book, certainly. But your resources are limited. Let's just focus on getting this book off the floor before we pitch you into the river. Close your eyes. Find the book." Jennail squinted at the book that Kvornan had dangled a moment before then shut her eyes completely. The study was silent. Even the birds in the thicket at the window had stopped chirping. Jennail attempted to connect to the energy that came from within her and cloaked her body without. In her mind, lights small as pin pricks crawled along the surface of the floor, loosely mapping forms but distinguishing little and illuminating nothing.



Find the book. It was difficult to judge distances, difficult to know the proportions of one thing versus another. Everything gray. Jennail took hold of something. It had a certain weight, a certain thickness. It seemed to be just far enough away. This book might not have been the book but it certainly seemed like a book and that was close enough for Jennail. It was progress. Jennail snaked her energy around the object and heard something metal topple from the table. A candlestick. Jennail opened her eyes.

"You couldn't have been farther off." Kvornan was frowning at her. His disappointment was almost tangible. The candlestick returned to the table as if by its own volition and the candle that had broken with the impact mended.

"Sorry!" Jennail blurted. Kvornan's frown remained fixed.

"How could you not tell the difference between a book and a candle?"

"I don't know! I-"

"Are you even trying?" Jennail fiddled in her lap.

"Of course I'm trying! I thought maybe the flat part on the bottom of the candleholder was a book. I mean, it was flat--"

"The room is full of flat surfaces! Why the candle?"

"I'm sorry." Kvornan stared at her for a time, tapping one closed hand against his knee, seeming to plot his course of action. Jennail bit her lip, genuinely concerned about what might be going through his head. He took to his feet before she could apologize again. He grabbed something from the table without a glance and concealed it in his fist.



"Lift the object in my hand. Don't look at the table! You don't even need to know what I'm holding. Just separate the object from me. Concentrate." He didn't make it easy. Even without trying, Jennail knew that she could not do what he was asking.

"I... Well that's not fair, is it? Your energy is in everything. How am I supposed to tell the difference between you and anything else?" With his free hand, Kvornan pinched the bridge of his nose. Jennail did not mean to frustrate him. It was a valid question.



"Sheut or not, a human hand is still a human hand. If you can't tell the difference between living flesh and inanimate objects then that's end-game. You will never learn this." Jennail hesitated, closing her eyes and re-opening them. The more she contemplated doing as he asked, the less confident she became. Unconsciously, she held her skirt so tight in her lap that her fingernails dug into her palm. She shook her head, dropping her gaze.

"I can't do it. I'm afraid I'll hurt you or something."

"You're not trying."

"It's not worth it."



Kvornan's shoulders dropped. His eyes changed from sympathetic to dangerous with all the abruptness of a switch being thrown in his brain. This was the boy that she had met in the labyrinth. He himself had many turns and no center. A few brief steps placed the Sheut at her feet, on his knees, gently prying open her hands.

"If you want to give up, that's your business but don't waste my time." He placed the concealed object in her hand, folded her fingers around it and stood, walking out of the door. Jennail's cheeks flushed hotly. She wasn't quitting. He just asked too much. And if he didn't know the difference, well... Jennail peeled open her hand, digit by digit. On her palm rested the stone of a peach, inert but alive with potential.