Reyik woke to stone, smoke, and quiet.
A lamp burned low on a shelf. A bowl of water stood beside a folded cloth. His chest hurt when he breathed. When he lifted the bandage, he found the long cut where the Exalted's blade had opened him. The edges were already closing. The skin itched as it knit itself back together. Everything fresh was healing.
Everything old was not. White rope marks ringed his throat. Raised lines crossed his ribs like tally marks. Small round burns dotted his side. Those stayed where they were, the way bad memories do.
A door hinge creaked. Estaron stepped in and set a wooden tray on the table. Bread, soup, and a tin cup. He pulled a chair closer and sat.
"Eat," he said.
Reyik reached for the cup. His hand was steady for the first three sips. On the fourth it shook. He set it down.
"What happened to the boy," he asked.
Estaron did not soften the answer. "He died. The heat from you took him. I pulled him in, but I was late."
Reyik stared at the floorboards by the bed. The lamp hummed. His breath scratched his throat. He reached under his shirt and closed his fingers on the small silver ring that hung there. He held it as if it were the only solid thing in the room.
"I tried to help him," he said. "I went to lift him."
"I know," Estaron said.
Reyik shut his eyes. One tear reached his jaw and fell. He did not make a sound.
They stayed in the quiet a long time. When Reyik opened his eyes again, some of the white pain had turned to iron.
"I should leave," he said.
"You can," Estaron said. "If you walk out, the Dominion will catch you in a week. They saw what you can do. They will hunt you, or buy you, or break you until you work for them. Or you can stay. Learn control. Carry the cost with the skill to keep it from climbing."
Reyik touched the bandage. "I do not want this. When it opens, people die."
Estaron leaned forward. "It opens because you were alone with it. Let me change that."
Reyik did not answer. Estaron stood.
"We will bury the boy before dusk," he said. "You can come, or you can sleep. Either choice is honest."
They carried the small body out past the gate when the light turned the pines dark green. Estaron dug. Reyik watched the line of the city walls far off and listened to the shovel thud. When the hole was done, Estaron lowered the boy in and set two flat stones on his chest so the earth would lay even. He spoke simple words. No promises. No lies.
Reyik crouched. Heat hummed in his palms on reflex—the same pulse his body uses to knit itself. It spilled into the air and did nothing. His power is his alone; it never crosses another's skin.
They covered the grave and went back to the Den.
Night came in like smoke from the forge. Estaron climbed the north wall and looked over the hills. The lights of the city pricked the dark like nails. He found himself counting what stood between those lights and the men and women sleeping behind him. Old stone. Two gates. A handful of fighters who had chosen to be here. One stranger who could shatter streets by breathing wrong.
If the stranger learned control, the war could bend. If he did not, the Den would burn from the inside.
He went down to the training yard. Reyik waited there already, hood off, hair damp from the wash basin, eyes hollowed by the day.
"I will not ask you to fight for me," Estaron said. "I will ask you to fight yourself."
"How," Reyik asked.
"You said it. Guard first." Estaron pointed to a long table. "Tomorrow we start with breath, then balance, then pressure. One percent, no more. We will name what you feel, so it cannot surprise you. We will test until the tests are boring. If you cannot hold, you stop. If you lose control, I stop you."
Reyik's mouth tightened. "You could not stop me in the road."
"I can stop you here," Estaron said. "The Den is built for it."
A bell rang twice from the east tower. Scouts returned with a coil of dust behind them. Estaron listened to their report in the gatehouse while Reyik watched the forge smoke drift.
"Two squads sweeping the outskirts," the scout said. "A third party north of the river. They are asking for a man who burns like a brazier."
"They will come again," Estaron said.
He went back to the yard. Reyik had not moved.
"You wanted to leave," Estaron said. "You can still choose that. If you stay, training begins at dawn."
Reyik's fingers lifted to the ring at his chest. He nodded once.
At dawn Estaron woke him before the birds.
They walked to the yard through air that still held night in it. Estaron set a clay bowl full of water on a waist high post.
"First drill," he said. "Stand. Breathe. Raise your pulse slowly. If the water ripples, you went too far. Name the moment before it moves."
Reyik stood in the square of dirt and did what he was told. He watched the surface. He counted to ten over and over like a rope thrown around a wild thing. A minute passed. Two. On the third, a small tremor touched the water. Reyik shut his eyes and stepped back. The surface went still again.
Estaron nodded. "Again."
They went on until the sun cleared the trees. The bowl told the truth each time. When Reyik got angry at himself the ripples came faster. When he touched the ring with his thumb and named the feeling, the ripples faded.
Estaron brought a second drill after breakfast. A stone in each palm, arms outstretched, slow steps across a beam. If the stones warmed, he stopped. If they smoked, he had to sit. They did both. He kept trying anyway.
By noon he shook with effort. Estaron handed him water and pointed at the shade.
"You break, you sit," he said. "Discipline begins with that."
Reyik sat. He looked at the silver ring and closed his eyes. He saw a different ring, smaller, on a boy's hand that was not here anymore. The sight hurt and steadied him at the same time.
When the light started to go long, a spearmaiden came to the yard. She was tall and scarred in lines that spoke of work, not luck.
"I am Sera," she said to Reyik. "I train on the far side. You burn me, I will hit you with the blunt end."
Reyik gave the smallest of smiles. "Then I will try not to burn you."
Sera looked at Estaron. "He is worth the soup," she said, and left.
That night Estaron stood on the wall again. The city lights felt closer. The scouts said the Dominion had posted notices. A name Reyik did not give stood in black ink, with a reward that would make men do stupid things.
Estaron closed his eyes and pictured the street again. He heard the boy's voice say leave us alone. He saw Reyik's hands open, palms up, too late to give anything back.
He did not sleep well.