Free Freewalker by Dennis Foon Page A

else but here, close to her. They are all terrified of what she could do to them, cowed by the dreaded wrath of Our Stowe.
    Good. She smiles. “Until he comes, we wait.”
    Bowing until he’s backed out the door, Dr. Arcanthas leaves the technicians standing rigid at their posts. Stowe promptly forgets them to ponder her situation. After her session with Kordan in the Dreamfield, she had felt elated. Having successfully accomplished his every test, she felt sure Darius would see her. But he rebuffed her request. Then, this morning, she awoke to be told the Eldest had ordered tests. She went instantly to talk to him, hoping that if she could see him, she could make him understand. But his door was shut to her. For almost three years, she’s had access to him whenever she desired, night or day. Now, because of one small incident of “inappropriate” behavior, it’s as if she exists simply as an object to experiment on. Is that her punishment? How long will it go on? It’s difficult to stifle the urge to leave her body and get some answers. But if Willum mentioned her “dream” to Darius, then her new ability might be suspected. One of these machines might be set up to detect that kind of astral movement and she must not play into their hands.
    For the past few nights she’s had real dreams, dreams about Roan. In these dreams, his eyes are crystals, and when she looks into them, she sees a great iron gate spanning an abyss. Its bars have eyes that slide open to stare at her. And lips that seem to say something, relay some message, but she can’t quite grasp it. She wakes burning with frustration and doubt.
    She shouldn’t have mentioned Raven to Willum. She revealed too much. And what she did to the clerics... stupid. But Willum used an aura to protect himself... she’s never seen that except in the Dreamfield. Stowe realizes with a start that she has no real idea of the extent of the Masters’ powers. If her lowly tutor can do that, they all must be able to. And yet, Darius is having her wired and probed—he must want to know whether her power is starting to surpass theirs, like Willum said.
    The doctor returns, but it is Willum who follows, not Darius. His impassive face is a sure sign he’s annoyed.
    Willum hesitates for a moment, his glare ensuring her silence, then addresses the doctor. “The report, please. Turn the viewer so Our Stowe can see, and explain with precision.”
    The doctor nods furiously at a technician who rushes over, pushing the screen close to Stowe’s bed. Numbers fly across the illuminated surface.
    â€œThese represent readings of all of your systems: respiratory, circulatory, nervous, digestive, endocrine, excretory, immunological, lymphatic, muscular, skeletal, your tissues and organs.”
    â€œAnd?” she asks.
    The doctor’s mouth moves but no words come out; he can’t seem to find them.
    â€œIf you please, Dr. Arcanthas,” urges Willum.
    â€œYou’re a perfect human specimen. Better than perfect. Every one of your systems is functioning at an extraordinary level. I understand now, from a physiological point of view, why Our Stowe is so honored. You are the best of us all.”
    â€œThen she is fit enough to continue the next phase of her training,” says Willum. “If you would be kind enough to disengage her, we might commence.”
    Once inside the confines of the Travel Room, Stowe relaxes considerably. Darius had only wanted to ensure that her body was strong enough for what lay ahead. A practical but also fatherly concern. Could it be that he’s not so terribly mad at her after all?
    Willum is about to push her, she can tell, but a part of her enjoys his challenges. She’s always surprised at how much she is actually able to accomplish. Still, it’s difficult not to drop her guard around him. She doesn’t find him threatening, although she cannot put her finger on