Storm Born Page 0,107

of me and the canteen.

"You feel the water?"

"Yes."

"Make sure of it. If you accidentally reach one of the trees and end up calling its water, you'll kill the poor thing."

I extended my senses, considering what he said. After a few moments, I felt certain I had the water sources all differentiated. "No, I've got it."

"All right, then. Call it to you."

"Am I supposed to make the canteen rise or something?"

"No. You have no connection to it. But you do connect with the water. You feel it. You touch it with your mind. Now coax it to come to you, to come out of its container. You've already done it with storm systems. The trick now is doing it on a small, specific level. Forget about your body - it's useless to you now. This is all in your mind."

"That's all the instruction I get, coach?"

"Afraid so."

He stretched out, rolling onto his side to get comfortable. For someone who took such care with his clothes, he seemed nonchalant about getting them dirty. I supposed laundry was a small concern when you had a full staff to take care of it.

Sighing, I turned back to the canteen. What I attempted seemed ludicrous - but, then, so had feeling the water in the first place. So, I followed what he said as best I could. My grip on the water was so tight, I might as well have held it in my hand already. But no matter how hard my concentration focused, I couldn't make the water move. It reminded me of the wind. I could feel it but not control it. Well, actually, if my training progressed, I might actually be able to control it some day. But the analogy stood, nonetheless.

Time dragged. Extensively. I tried and tried to order the water around, but it refused to obey.

More time passed. It crawled.

I finally decided it was a good thing the cords covered my watch because I'd be pissed off if I discovered how much time had elapsed. Hours had slipped by; I felt certain of it. The light had grown dimmer and dimmer. Looking over at Dorian, I swore he was asleep.

"Hey," I said. No response. "Hey!"

He opened one eye.

"I'm not getting anywhere with this. We should call it a night."

He sat up. "Giving up already?"

"Already? It's been like two hours. Probably three."

"Miracles don't happen overnight. These things take time."

"How much time? I'm starting to wonder if you made this magic rule just to procrastinate on getting Jasmine."

"Well. You can believe that if it makes it easier for you. The truth - if you trust me enough to hear it - is that this is for your own protection. In a perfect world, we would go in and extract the girl quietly. In the real world, we will likely fight Aeson's guards and Aeson himself. I would prefer we both walk out of this alive. You didn't fare so well last time."

"This is going to take forever. This training."

I knew I was being whiny and petulant, but my back hurt, and mosquitoes had come out. At least in identifying the water source, I'd been able to take guesses. Here I could do nothing more than just wait and stare. If nothing happened, nothing happened.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "I'm just tired, that's all. Didn't mean to bitch you out."

He seemed untroubled by my reaction, just like always. Indeed, I could see his face regarding me kindly in the twilight. "No problem at all. Let's go, then."

He walked over to the canteen and recapped it. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the rock to wait for him to release me. As I did, I felt something cool and wet, like mist, spread out behind my back and neck. To my new water senses, it didn't feel...right. Moments later, before I could ponder the difference, the mist coalesced into slimy skin.

"Dori - "

My scream was cut off by cold, clawed hands. One covered my mouth, and the other gripped my throat. Dorian had spun around before my cry, making me think he'd sensed something before I had. He leaped toward me, but four wet, human forms materialized in the air before him, blocking his way. Nixies. Water spirits.

Two were male; two were female. Legends whispered they could shape-shift into more beautiful forms, but here they appeared drab. Clammy skin, mottled and gray. Clothes sodden and dripping. Seaweedlike hair hanging down. The one holding me pushed me down flat to the ground,