put his hand on my chest, and shoved what felt like a year’s worth of mana right into my not-at-all-drained body.
I’ve got a substantial capacity for holding mana, but it was too much for even me. I didn’t have a functional storing crystal on me, so I couldn’t bleed off any of it. If I’d been properly functional at the moment, I’d have used it for the dramatic display I’d been planning. If I’d been a little less functional, I’d have instinctively cast my most natural spell, which at this particular moment was the killing spell I’d lately been casting over and over. I was just functional enough to recognize that I really didn’t want to do that, and yet I was about to be mana-poisoned if I didn’t do something with the power. So instead I poured it into the one completely unthinking spell I know that doesn’t involve killing people, which is the little meditation Mum had me do every morning and night, directly after toothbrushing. She taught it to me when I was little by having me sing the Simple Gifts hymn, which is as close to the idea as any incantation gets, but it’s not really an incantation, you don’t actually need words for it at all. It’s just making the choice to put yourself right, whatever that means for you. On the handful of occasions when I asked her whether I really was a monster, what was wrong with me, she told me there was nothing wrong with me that wasn’t wrong with me, and made me do the meditation until I felt right again. If that doesn’t make sense to you, you’re completely welcome to go and visit the commune and discuss it with her.
Normally the spell requires no mana; sitting down with the intention to cast it is enough. I was so far from right that I couldn’t actually form that intention, but throwing so much power into the spell was enough to force me through, rather like picking myself up by the scruff of my neck and shaking myself really hard, with a few slaps across the face from each side. I jerked up onto my feet, standing with a yowl, batting my hands at the air wildly for a moment. That only used up about one month’s worth of mana; I had eleven more ready to pop my seams, and—still operating on instinct—I shoved the spell out from me, which made everyone else at the table except Orion jump and gasp just the same as I had. That took care of nine months’ worth; two other random kids passing by tripped and dropped their trays as it hit them, and then it finally petered out.
I sank back down on the bench with a hard thump. I certainly did feel like myself again, namely violently irritated. Everyone else around the table was looking uneasily happy, their faces brighter, except Liu on the other side of the table, who was shaking violently, staring at her own hands: her fingernails had gone back to normal. She stared at Orion. “What did you do?” she cracked out, wobbly.
“I don’t know!” Orion said. “It’s never done that before!”
“Next time,” I rasped out, “ask first.” He looked at me anxiously, and I added, “And I’m fine,” which I was, involuntarily, although I didn’t actually want to be fine just yet. I’ve never been on board with Mum’s whole schtick about letting the process run its course, but for the first time I got the idea. However, the Scholomance isn’t exactly a forgiving place to do any processing, and after a moment I was more or less grateful. Well, less. “Stop hovering,” I muttered, and looked away from Orion to do a quick poison check on all the food on my tray, which I hadn’t actually inspected before taking. I had to chuck more than half of it, and I was starving, since I’d missed lunch.
Aadhya gave me half of her chocolate pudding and said, “Pay me back when you have a chance,” and Cora a little grudgingly gave me the apple she’d meant to save for later when Nkoyo gave her a nudge. Orion had sat down next to me slowly and was looking a little less freaked out. Liu was still staring at her own hands, tears running in two parallel lines down her face. I’d obviously been right about her carefully rationed malia use; if she’d been using more than the bare minimum,