he decided the most damaging aspect of Elemental magic was fire. So he ensured that fire would never harm him.
“Apparently you can set him on fire from head to toe and it would do absolutely no damage. But there is a flaw. There is no discipline that does not have a weak point. The danger of focusing on one aspect to the exclusion of all others is that the weak point tends to grow. He had no idea when he set himself on this course, because from what I’ve heard he has never been the brightest of sorcerers.”
“What is his weak point?”
“Water.”
“That’s it? Just water?”
“He can’t be submerged in it. Apparently he has to stand whenever he takes a bath. If he is completely submerged in water even for an instant, something bad will happen.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” said Quoneel. “But something bad. The point of the story is that he made a decision early on and he is now stuck with that decision. There is nothing he can do to change it now. When you were a child, what did you dream of?”
“I wanted to be an Elemental,” the girl said truthfully.
“And then?” Quoneel asked. “As your horizons broadened, and you encountered more and more branches of Adept magic?”
“An Energy-Thrower,” she said. “Or a Teleporter.”
“Ah,” said Quoneel. “A Teleporter. What could be more useful for a knife in the shadows than the ability to appear and disappear in the blink of an eye? A dying art, some might say. But you dismissed this notion also?”
The girl nodded. “I want to walk on walls,” she said.
“Why?”
She hesitated. “So I can strike from above. So I can attack without warning.”
“No, these are not your reasons.”
“You’re distracting me from my lesson.”
“Why do you want to walk on walls?”
The girl returned her foot to the floor and sighed. “I don’t know.”
“You must have a reason.”
“Because it’s useful,” she said. “And it’s unexpected. And in a fight, you’d have the advantage. Everyone else fights with their feet on the ground. If you can make them fight you sideways, or fight you as you hang upside down, they’re never going to get comfortable.”
The master nodded thoughtfully. “And your real reason for wanting to walk on walls?”
“Because no one else is doing it!” she blurted. “All the others are choosing disciplines to help them kill. So what? We’re being
trained
to kill. We’re going to kill,
anyway
− we don’t need to do it by shooting energy from our fingertips. For an assassin to choose a discipline like that is... is...”
“Redundant,” said Quoneel.
“Yes,” she said.
“I agree with you completely.”
“You do?”
“Of course. What’s the point of being a hidden blade if you attack with a clumsy old club? Where’s the subtlety? Where’s the finesse? Your friends have sadly missed the point.”
“They’re not my friends.”
“Ah, yes. They still call you Highborn, don’t they?”
“I don’t talk like I used to. I don’t walk around all proud and bright like I used to. But they won’t stop calling me that name.”
“What age are you now, girl? Thirteen? It’s past time you took on a name of your own.”
“I’ll take my name when I’m ready,” the girl said. “I won’t do it just to stop them teasing me.”
Quoneel smiled.
“But why don’t you tell them?” she asked. “If they’re choosing the wrong disciplines, why don’t you just make a list of the right ones and let them pick?”
“It is not our place,” the master said. “We can only hope that through our teachings and our guidance, the appropriate disciplines will become obvious. Sometimes that works. Sometimes it doesn’t.”
“Avaunt said she’s going to be an Energy-Thrower,” said the girl.
Quoneel smiled again. “Another one who has missed the point. She will make an excellent assassin, however. They all will. But none of them will rise beyond merely excellent.”
“Will