Free The Desecrator: A Tor.com Original by Steven Brust Page B

hilt, and wondered why I had lost interest in drawing it. I stood there for a moment. Daymar still had that same look on his face.
    “That,” I said, “isn’t fair.”
    “Sorry,” he said.
    I tried again to want to draw my weapon, and I couldn’t. I thought about an amulet that I needed to start wearing, just as soon as I could figure out how to craft it. Which reminds me, Sethra; can you tell me how to—
    All right.
    “Another idea,” he said, “would be for you to tell me what you’re after.”
    “If you have such control over my mind, why don’t you make me tell you?”
    “Causing someone to do something against his will is considerably more difficult than sapping his will to do something. Also, it wouldn’t be polite.”
    “Polite.”
    He nodded.
    I hesitated, started to speak, then wondered if he was making me do it after all.
    “I’m not,” he said.
    Was he reading my mind?
    “Only surface thoughts. You’re well protected. Oh, very nice. Now I’m not getting those. Where did you learn to do that?”
    “From Sethra.”
    After a moment he said, “You weren’t jesting, then.”
    “No.”
    “I see.” He frowned. “You’re her apprentice?”
    “Not exactly. She’s teaching me some things.”
    “Why?”
    “Her own reasons.”
    “You never asked her why she’s teaching you?”
    “Yes, in fact, I did.”
    “What did she say?”
    “To further her plot to destroy the Empire.”
    “Oh.” He considered. “Now you’re jesting, right?”
    “No, but I’m pretty sure she was.”
    After a moment, he nodded. “You must be right.”
    “That’s a relief. How do you do that? With my mind, I mean?”
    “Sorcery is a particular form of energy used to manipulate matter.”
    “Uh, yeah, I know.”
    “This is just energy in a different form.”
    “But the mind isn’t matter.”
    “Of course it is.”
    “No—it’s—it’s thoughts.”
    “Well, what are thoughts?”
    “They’re, well, they’re thoughts. They aren’t matter!”
    “Yes they are. Very highly organized matter, in fact. And, just like with sorcery, the more highly organized the matter, the less energy and the more technique is required to—”
    “I still say thought isn’t matter.”
    “Oh. Well.” He frowned. “Then I guess what I do doesn’t work. So, then, what are you after? If you’re here from Sethra, I may be inclined to help you.”
    And that was the first point when I really wanted to talk to you. But you said the blip would scramble psychic communication outside the area, and you were right; I couldn’t reach you.
    “All right,” I said. “I really don’t know what I’m looking for. Sethra noticed a blip at this—”
    “A what?”
    “I don’t know. She called it something else. She was scanning, like she does now and then just to see if any sorcerous energy is doing anything odd, and she—”
    “An amorphic anomaly.”
    “Yeah, that’s it.”
    He should have been sitting, so he could have suddenly stood dramatically. “Here?”
    “Yes.”
    “There’s—”
    “Yes. There’s an amorphic anomaly here.”
    “Where?”
    “Here.”
    “Where exactly?”
    “Uh.” I pulled out a locator rod, studied it, and said, “About twenty feet down.”
    “Down?”
    I felt an obscure pride at having reduced the desecrator to monosyllables. I nodded. “How do we get down?” I stamped on the rock floor. “This seems pretty solid.”
    He looked dumbfounded.
    “You’ve explored the area, right, Daymar?”
    He nodded.
    “No sign of a way down?”
    He shook his head.
    I went to the back wall and began a close inspection, looking for any concealed catches, or signs of a false wall. After a moment, Daymar began doing the same.
    We checked every inch of that wall. I mean, carefully. Then the others. After hours of this, we agreed there wasn’t anything there. I had a headache.
    I said, “How well organized is this floor?”
    Daymar glanced over at me, with that same head tilt. “I beg your