Heirot

"What's stabilizing him, then?" Tenara asked, glancing at the sword lying next to her. Thvoros was the sword, how odd it was to look at him and not see his eyes or his ever present scowl.

"I need to study you and the sword more in order to be sure, but it seems likely that it has something to do with a connection to your magic. She tread on the topic carefully. "So far, I know we've advised you to keep your powers subdued. We've done very little to help you cultivate or explore their potential. It's possible that's still the right answer for you. What do you think? Have you noticed a change in your powers since the ritual?"

Tenara set her teacup down, wringing her hands. "Its... quiet," she said. Before they'd given her the bind to block her magic, it had been a drowning force inside her. A constant, painful pressure triggered by the slightest change in her emotions. They'd all tried to teach her to control them. Each taking turns to see whose methods worked, even resorting to having her Aunt Lalana—of all people—try to tame the blinding madness of power inside her. None of it worked. It was just too much for a child, and then... One day someone tried to take her, maybe to hold her for ransom, she wasn't certain, and she'd leveled an entire city block. Killed people. After that, teaching her to control them didn't seem to matter. It was safer to lock them away.

"When I use it, it is... pleasant," she said, glancing at the sword. Tenara didn't want to mention how pleasant. "It feels good. It doesn't hurt anymore. It doesn't feel like it's going to break me apart—at least, for the most part." Last night she'd wanted to break everything apart, to tear up the things that would harm her.

Havitharon guided his senses to the edge of her mind as she spoke. It was the first time he'd heard her speak about what it felt like from her end to use that energy he'd felt. He would have assumed it was painful, but she said it was "pleasant".

"And what does Thvoros feel? When you use your power?" Sinead asked.

The outsider's line of thought jerked to a dead stop.

Tenara frowned, staring at the covers and wondering why her connection with Thvoros had gone painfully silent. “I don’t know,” she replied. “He doesn’t really say much about himself.”

"Is that so," Sinead said, but thankfully, she didn't seem eager to push the issue. "An emissary from Ongoreth is currently staying as my guest here in the capital. I believe among his entourage is a renowned swordsmith named Soon Yeo. Ongorian weapons are known for the sophistication of their enchantments. Perhaps you should persuade him take a look at the weapon and tell you his thoughts."

Tenara thought about Sinead’s advice. She wasn’t sure how she felt talking with someone outside her inner circle about the sword, but if she kept her questioning vague….

“Perhaps I’ll bump into him at…” She glanced to the window. “…lunch??”

"You're more apt to find him in the forge. He's not known to be a... people person." She looked down at the magic tome she'd borrowed last night. "No need to give him details. Let him tell you what he sees for himself." She patted the book thoughtfully. "This tome is not natural. It will take some more time for me to make sense of it."

Tenara nodded as she shifted to the edge of the bed. "Thvoros says it was written by... lunatics." She wracked her brain for what he'd called them.
"Yurvis? Noo... that's not it... That's what he thinks I am. Suras... Svuras. Something like that."

Sinead raised her brows. "Can he read this?"

*Slightly,* Havitharon offered. *It is a dead language, even in my world, but scraps of the etymology match up to our modern tongue.* As much as he tried, the words did not make it beyond the connection of his mind to Tenara's.

"He says that he can read a little of it," Tenara replied for him. "It's a dead language but he recognizes enough of it to get through. He did walk us through a spell so we could communicate, and then again so he could understand the outside world. It was blood magic."

Sinead frowned. "Most summoning magics are. Life calls to life." She gave Tenara a firm look. "Most soul-corrupting magics are, as well. Same reason. I know you wish to trust this being, but keep yourself guarded. I've increased security around the building and instruct the kitchen to prepare your favorites whenever you wish to eat. I'll look for you at dinnertime."

Tenara said goodbye to Sinead, her words lingering. Guarded. It was hard to be guarded with someone lurking in the back of your mind. She climbed out of bed and went to the wardrobe. It was all borrowed clothing. Ighten clothing was better than Arken's, but just as many unnecessary layers compared to Hajaran garb. She dragged out a pale blue gown, draping it over a chair before reaching for the straps of her tattered silk nightgown and slipping them off her shoulders. She caught the fabric, clutching it to her chest.

*Can you see me?*

As soon as Tenara set the weapon aside to dress, the senses Havi had shared with Tenara went dark, as did their mental connection. He could still sense where she was, and he had an inexplicable understanding of the presence and contours of the objects around him. If he were able to walk in this state, he could have moved around the room with confidence, but he didn't see as she did. He could also hear, but his hearing felt odd, like he was sensing vibrations in the air, not like he truly had ears. It was like the air itself was his only sensory input now. But without contact with Tenara, he couldn't hear the mental question she asked him.

He did, however, register the sudden, spooked movement as she spun around. *Tenara? What is it?*

Tenara stared at the sword. Swords didn't have eyes. And it wasn't like he hadn't seen her naked. She'd defiantly flashed him when they first met because he wouldn't leave so she could change. And they'd changed together in the tailor's shed. It just felt... different now that they weren't fighting for survival.

*Nothing... I'm fine.*

Tenara did as Sinead suggested and she found her way to the forges. It took a bit of exploring and asking directions. She'd been in almost every corner of the palace, knew most of the secret places, like her father's tower. She didn't go there much because, unlike her father, she was not attracted to cold, drafty rooms. It fascinated her to think about the fact her mother had grown up in the palace, and her father had lived within it most of his unnatural life.

The forges were on the east side of the palace, on the other side of the gardens, near the stables. The wind was crisp outside, while a sweltering heat filled the inside of the forge. Clanging sounds echoed off the walls, and she followed them into a wide room lined with open forge fires built into firebrick chimneys. There were three men in the room. One was hammering away at a blazing hot rod of iron, another was putting a sword into a vat of water, and one was plunging steel into fire.

Tenara held the sword hilt in her hand, going towards the Ongorethian man. He didn't like people, Sinead had said. But he liked weapons... So instead of saying anything to him, she stepped up along side him and took up a polishing rag from a bucket of rags and oils. She went to where he stood and began to clean the sword.