A Plague of Giants (Seven Kennings #1) - Kevin Hearne Page 0,240

me some excuse to take it off and go swimming. People salute me as I walk now that I have shiny things on my breast indicating my rank, and I remember to respond only half the time and probably salute improperly when I do. Mynstad du Möcher confirmed via her expression yesterday that I’m definitely not military material, and she may have suffered a crisis of faith as a result: What was Lord Bryn thinking, making me a tidal mariner?

She’s not the only one asking herself that question.

No close encounters with the pelenaut this time: Tallynd du Böll meets me at the entrance to the Wellspring and guides me back around the throne to the small pool that leads to the Lung’s Locks and the bay.

“Gerstad du Fesset reports that you’re competent at sleeving and swimming in general now. You will not have had much practice at dry direction, though.”

“You’re right. I don’t even know what that is.”

“It’s any exertion of your kenning while on dry land. The pulling and pushing of water on your person or elsewhere.”

“Okay.”

“Hop into the pool, get yourself soaked, and climb back out.”

“All right.” I noticed that her uniform, while appearing quite sharp, didn’t make all the noise that mine did. I gladly leapt into the pool just to stop the itching and make that material loosen up. I climbed out, dripping, and she smiled.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?”

“So much better.”

“Good. Now I want you to pull that water out of your clothing and let it fall back in the pool.”

“How do I…?”

“It’s focused visualization and exertion of will, just like moving yourself through water. Your kenning will do most of the work.”

My first attempt gets the water out of my uniform, but it doesn’t all go in the pool. Instead it radiates out in all directions from my body, spraying down the Second Könstad and the mariner standing guard there and splashing against the wall behind me as well. I apologize to them both, horrified and embarrassed. Tallynd du Böll just laughs, says it’s no problem, and wicks away the moisture properly from both herself and the mariner.

“This is why we call it dry direction,” she explains. “It’s the direction that takes work. The nature of water is to take the easiest path. Forcing it to take a path of your choosing takes a bit more effort. Not exertion, mind—just an effort of concentration. Wrapping your mind around the totality of the water you wish to affect, allowing none of it to behave as it would wish but as you would wish. Again, Gerstad—and again and again until you can do it flawlessly.”

It takes me nine attempts to perform it to the Second Könstad’s satisfaction. It was, as she suggested, much more of a mental exercise than a physical one. Water will try to leak out of any container, physical or mental.

“But at what point,” I ask her, “does this kind of thing become a physical exercise? I mean, when do we get the physical consequences—the aging?”

Tallynd du Böll shrugs. “Difficult to say. At some point you pass a threshold of moving volume or creating pressure that triggers the cost. No one has ever wished to experiment with their lives to measure it precisely. The effect is that we try to get along with the minimum possible. You live longer that way.”

She dives into the pool and waves at me once she surfaces. “Come on; we’ll head out to the ocean now. I have some things to show you.”

We cycle through the locks, and once we’re out of the harbor, we pause and tread water. “Before the invasion and my promotion, the majority of my work involved current adjustment and reef farming.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“All those people who dive into Bryn’s Lung—you saw what happens to the bodies, right?”

“Yes. Crabs and scavengers on the bottom. Glowing fungus on the walls.”

“Right. It’s a tremendous source of both food and waste. We have to keep that moving out of there, and I used to work with the rapids and hygienists to maintain it. Lots of particles can be used elsewhere; the hygienists analyze the contents of the water and work with me on moving it out. We feed the coral reefs and shellfish beds, those in turn feed the fish, and as a result we have the world’s most fecund fishing waters. And thank goodness because I think it might be all that keeps us going when we run out of