She spoke the Edomic words and pushed with all of her consciousness, exerting her will much as she had when lighting distant candles. The twig suddenly burst into hot flames, making Rachel lean back. She laughed at the sudden combustion and enjoyed a much more satisfying rush than had ever attended the lighting of a candle.

“Well done, child!” the charm woman exclaimed. “You’re really learning to merge the command with your will.”

“I gave it everything I had,” Rachel said.

The twig continued to burn. The fire she had called had not merely licked across the surface—it seemed to have erupted from within. As the twig burned hotly, flames spread to neighboring wood.

“I couldn’t have lit that twig half so impressively,” Elaine confessed. “And I have been at this for many years. How did it feel?”

“Good. It actually felt easier than the first time I lit a candle from a distance.”

“Come with me.”

The charm woman led Rachel out of the cave and over to a little pine. She ran a finger along a slender limb bristling with green needles. “Try to ignite the end of this branch.”

“How much of it?” Rachel asked.

She indicated the last couple of inches. “Just this much.”

“That’s a lot shorter than the twig.”

“It’ll be harder. But see if you can manage it.”

“Okay. It’s funny, I feel a little tired after the twig.”

Elaine nodded. “You pushed hard to light the twig, probably harder than necessary. Over time, you’ll learn how much effort is needed for various tasks, and that will help you conserve your strength. Take a moment to collect yourself.”

“I’m all right.”

“Don’t hold back,” Elaine advised. “This will be tough.”

“Right,” Rachel said softly. She breathed deeply, focusing on the end of the limb, trying to memorize every needle. “Here we go.”

Just like in the cave, she spoke the words to summon heat, then pushed with all the will she could muster. She centered her attention on the last two inches of the limb, directing the heat to permeate it. If anything, it felt like she had marshaled more power than ever for this command, but the end of the limb began to feel indefinably slippery. Her concentration wavered. Clenching her fists, she redoubled her effort. The limb quivered, and tendrils of steam trickled up.

After a prolonged, frustrating moment, her focus completely broke. She simply couldn’t sustain the internal effort. It felt like she had taken a step off an unseen curb. Damp with perspiration, Rachel fell to her knees. A wave of nausea washed over her, and she found herself short of breath. As she closed her eyes, the ground seemed to twirl and tilt. She bowed forward, putting her palms on the dirt.

She felt steadying hands on her shoulders. “Calm yourself, child. Let the sensation pass.”

Rachel felt acutely aware of the smell of the rocks and soil beneath her, the scent of the little pine beside her. She fought down the urge to retch, and the dizziness began to recede. After a moment, she stood.

“That was brutal,” she said, feeling too rattled to hide her resentment. “I fell apart. Why’d you ask me to do that?”

“Do you know what made it so hard?”

“The water inside the branch?”

“Think about what I told you before.”

The realization hit. “The tree is alive.”

“Exactly. All life resists Edomic tampering. The difference between trying to ignite a dead twig and a live limb is extraordinary. I’m not sure if even the greatest wizards could have directly burned a human.”

“You knew I would fail,” Rachel said.

“I suspected you might fail with the twig. When you succeeded, I gave you a much harder challenge.”

“Why would you want me to fail?” Rachel still felt unsteady and short of breath.

“Two reasons. First, I wanted you to feel firsthand the resistance living things have to Edomic. The way life resists tampering is difficult to grasp until you experience it.”

“And second?”

“You needed to learn what failure feels like. You needed to experience your concentration unraveling when engaged in a task beyond your capacity. With practice, you will learn to recognize when you have attempted to accomplish too much. Deliberately abandoning a command early can reduce the negative impact of failure.”

“So if I hadn’t kept fighting to the end, I would have been less jolted?”

“Correct. Anyone who dabbles in Edomic must learn to cope with failed directives. Little by little, you’ll be able to handle more ambitious commands. But never forget that the more ambitious the command, the harsher the impact of failure.”

“I see how that could be good to know.”

“For example,” Elaine continued, “had you tried to set the whole evergreen ablaze, and had you pushed with all your might, you would probably be dead.”

“I’ll be careful,” Rachel promised. Her legs still felt a little rubbery.

“Using Edomic can be very rewarding,” the charm woman said. “But it is no game. You must learn to stay within your limits. You have great potential, Rachel, but those with impressive native skill often burn out quickly. They attempt too much too soon, and never get to discover what they might have become had they cultivated their talent more patiently.”

“I think I’ve got the idea,” Rachel said. “If I’m going to fail, I need to fail doing only a little more than I can handle.”

“That is a sane and proven road to progress. If you can hold to that principle, you could go far. If not, you will probably perish.”

CHAPTER 9

SMUGGLED

Upstairs, in a spotless guest bedroom, Jason could not sleep. Fingers laced behind his head, he lay atop the covers of a narrow bed, gazing up at the slanted ceiling. Aram was asleep downstairs, and Moira had insisted Jason rest as well, in preparation for a night on horseback.

The night before, Aram had collected Jason’s belongings from the Dockside Inn. He had also scouted the town and found triple the usual guardsmen at every gate, complemented by an unusual amount of patrols scouring the city in search of a nameless fugitive who matched Jason’s description. Aram had expressed that he couldn’t recall comparable interest in a fugitive since Galloran had been abroad.

Jason rolled onto his side, trying to get comfortable. Part of his restlessness stemmed from Ferrin’s hand. The dismembered appendage kept fluttering in the backpack. The rustling had persisted off and on for at least an hour. In the past, Ferrin had only drawn such attention when there was something he urgently wanted to share.