Disciple of War Disciple of War (Art of the Adept #4) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,8

stand in front of her. The expression on her face was hopeful.

“You’re sure about this?”

“Just do it already!”

With a thought, Will caught Selene with a source-link, then lifted the already prepared source-cage spell and pushed it into her chest. Connected to both the spell construct and her source, he guided one to the other and felt it slide into place. Her eyes met his, and a smile formed on her lips.

Then he squeezed, closing his fist and clamping down on her source at the same time. At the same time, he saw the discomfort reflected in her features. Selene’s smile vanished. “It feels tight,” she remarked.

He nodded, adjusting the source-cage to fit around the changes he had made. Then he released the link and exhaled. “Look at your ring.”

“The glow is dimmer.”

“I’ve reduced the amount of turyn your body can hold. Basically, everything your source produces is trapped within the source-cage. You have to learn two things. One, you have to restrict your source so that you only produce an amount of turyn that keeps that smaller space filled, and two, you have to learn to survive on that greatly reduced amount of turyn.”

Selene nodded. “It doesn’t seem too bad, so far. It just feels weird.”

“Clamping down on your source is the hard part, and that’s what you have to do first. Learning to live on half the turyn is the slow, miserable part that takes a month or so,” he explained.

“I can do this,” she declared.

“No matter what, don’t cast any spells. If you allow yourself to release turyn that way, you won’t learn. You have to push yourself to the limit. It’s going to feel like you’re dying.” He went back to the desk and sat down, then opened a book.

“What are you doing now?”

He glanced up. “I’m going to read this book you recommended on ward theory.”

“That’s it?”

Will shrugged. “It will take a little while for your problems to start, and after that neither of us will get any peace. It also didn’t seem fair for me to practice spells in front of you, since you can’t do the same, so I figured I’d read until you start panicking.”

Selene gave him a lopsided grin. “Panicking? I don’t panic.”

“Sure,” said Will, then returned his eyes to the page.

Her hands came down on the edge of the desk as she leaned closer. “No, really. I don’t panic. Have you ever seen me panic? I’m always calm.”

You were a little out of control when your father tried to make you kill me, thought Will, but he didn’t think that was a fair comment. “I believe you,” he replied instead.

She frowned. “You don’t sound like it.”

“I do, honestly,” he responded, but her disbelief in his belief already had him fighting to keep the smirk out of his voice, which undermined his statement.

“You’ll see.”

“I wasn’t arguing with you,” he told her. “I’m on your side.”

She growled and left. Will struggled to focus on the rather boring subject of wards, which he found rather dry and uninspired. Most of the text dealt with decay times and the methods for calculating how long a given ward could be expected to last, which apparently was a function of design, complexity, and the initial turyn investment. Thirty minutes later and he was into the first simple examples, which showed how to calculate the expected survival time, when Selene returned.

“My skin feels funny,” she announced.

He nodded.

“Is it supposed to feel like that?”

“It gets worse.”

“What do I do about it?”

“Find a way to stop producing so much turyn.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Smartass.” She left again.

Will returned to his reading, fighting against incipient drowsiness even though he hadn’t been up very long. I should read this at night before bed, he noted wryly. An hour went by, and he began hearing odd noises outside the study. Rising from his seat, he went and looked out the door, where he saw that Selene was vigorously cleaning the banister on the stairs.

She was wearing one of her plain dresses and had tied her hair back, so it was apparent that she meant business as she worked her way industriously from the bottom to the top, polishing every part of the wood. Will could see that she was working up a sweat.

He returned to the book and tried not to think about how she must be feeling, but he couldn’t focus. Activating the limnthal, he announced, “She’s to the point where she’s trying to exhaust herself.”

“So the fun is just beginning,” said Arrogan.

“Should