legs assisted in each step by his shaping. He might be able to shape only wind, but he was extremely skilled, using it in ways that warriors of the order rarely considered. In that fashion, he was more like the healer guild and their specialization.
“Not the lock. The window.”
Eldridge swung around a corner at a landing and paused long enough to catch her eye. “There are more ways to enter Atenas than the shaper circle.”
There weren’t supposed to be any other ways to enter the tower. From what Alena remembered, the only ways in were through the main doorway or through an entrance atop the tower itself. Both were reinforced and heavily guarded to keep out those not given access. But Eldridge had simply swept away a pane of glass, leaving it as if nothing had been there. Not only was it a neat trick, but she could think of dozens of uses for such a shaping.
Eldridge didn’t give her the chance to question anything more as he stopped on one of the landings—Alena wasn’t able to tell which floor they were on and doubted it would matter anyway, as she’d been too long away from Atenas to know what was where—and tapped on a door along the hall.
Whatever was on the other side of that door was shielded from her using water. She hadn’t seen a shielding quite like it before and started probing along the edge, using a masked shaping of water and fire.
“There’s no need for that,” Eldridge said.
Alena hesitated. How had he known she was shaping? He was a wind shaper only and shouldn’t be able to detect when she used water and fire. “Where are we?”
Wyath didn’t have the luxury of wasting any more time. Already, it might be too late for him.
“Wait,” Eldridge cautioned.
The shielding around the door dropped and then the door opened. The wide face that poked through the cracked door had ruddy cheeks and a saggy jowl that reminded Alena in some ways of her father, a water shaper long gone. The eyes that caught on Eldridge and then Alena before settling on Wyath looked nothing like her father’s, though. They were hard and calculating.
“Balls, man,” he said. “What are you doing back in Atenas?”
“We need your help.”
“I see that, but are you really certain this is… wise? You could have summoned and it might have been safer.”
“There was no time. Now, will you allow us in, Oliver?”
Alena had heard the name before; most who spent any time in Atenas had heard the name of the greatest healer in Ter. At least Wyath would have a chance, but how did Eldridge know him, and why would Oliver ask if it was wise for him to come?
Oliver stepped to the side and pulled the door open. He was a wide man, and his gray robe did nothing to disguise his bulk. In spite of that, he moved with a certain grace that reminded her of the R’sar dancers. The thought made her smile; she couldn’t imagine a man the size of Oliver spinning and slashing with the precision the dancers possessed.
When they were in the room, he slammed the door shut with a shaping of water, sealing it once more. Oliver motioned to a cot along the wall, and she carried Wyath to it, setting him down. Oliver quickly reached for Wyath and ran his hands over his face and down his sides, probing expertly.
“Who shaped him?” he said, keeping his focus on Wyath.
“There was an explosion,” Alena said. Oliver didn’t need to know how it happened, she decided, and she would try to keep Eldridge from saying anything that might lead to more questions. “A training accident.”
Eldridge eyed her askance and Oliver sniffed to himself.
“Training accident. Seems the old man shouldn’t be involved in too many training accidents anymore, should he?” Oliver directed the question to Eldridge, ignoring Alena. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to know. Who performed the first shaping?”
“I did,” Alena said. “Does it matter? I needed to staunch the bleeding, or he wouldn’t have made it even this far.”
Oliver looked
“Not the lock. The window.”
Eldridge swung around a corner at a landing and paused long enough to catch her eye. “There are more ways to enter Atenas than the shaper circle.”
There weren’t supposed to be any other ways to enter the tower. From what Alena remembered, the only ways in were through the main doorway or through an entrance atop the tower itself. Both were reinforced and heavily guarded to keep out those not given access. But Eldridge had simply swept away a pane of glass, leaving it as if nothing had been there. Not only was it a neat trick, but she could think of dozens of uses for such a shaping.
Eldridge didn’t give her the chance to question anything more as he stopped on one of the landings—Alena wasn’t able to tell which floor they were on and doubted it would matter anyway, as she’d been too long away from Atenas to know what was where—and tapped on a door along the hall.
Whatever was on the other side of that door was shielded from her using water. She hadn’t seen a shielding quite like it before and started probing along the edge, using a masked shaping of water and fire.
“There’s no need for that,” Eldridge said.
Alena hesitated. How had he known she was shaping? He was a wind shaper only and shouldn’t be able to detect when she used water and fire. “Where are we?”
Wyath didn’t have the luxury of wasting any more time. Already, it might be too late for him.
“Wait,” Eldridge cautioned.
The shielding around the door dropped and then the door opened. The wide face that poked through the cracked door had ruddy cheeks and a saggy jowl that reminded Alena in some ways of her father, a water shaper long gone. The eyes that caught on Eldridge and then Alena before settling on Wyath looked nothing like her father’s, though. They were hard and calculating.
“Balls, man,” he said. “What are you doing back in Atenas?”
“We need your help.”
“I see that, but are you really certain this is… wise? You could have summoned and it might have been safer.”
“There was no time. Now, will you allow us in, Oliver?”
Alena had heard the name before; most who spent any time in Atenas had heard the name of the greatest healer in Ter. At least Wyath would have a chance, but how did Eldridge know him, and why would Oliver ask if it was wise for him to come?
Oliver stepped to the side and pulled the door open. He was a wide man, and his gray robe did nothing to disguise his bulk. In spite of that, he moved with a certain grace that reminded her of the R’sar dancers. The thought made her smile; she couldn’t imagine a man the size of Oliver spinning and slashing with the precision the dancers possessed.
When they were in the room, he slammed the door shut with a shaping of water, sealing it once more. Oliver motioned to a cot along the wall, and she carried Wyath to it, setting him down. Oliver quickly reached for Wyath and ran his hands over his face and down his sides, probing expertly.
“Who shaped him?” he said, keeping his focus on Wyath.
“There was an explosion,” Alena said. Oliver didn’t need to know how it happened, she decided, and she would try to keep Eldridge from saying anything that might lead to more questions. “A training accident.”
Eldridge eyed her askance and Oliver sniffed to himself.
“Training accident. Seems the old man shouldn’t be involved in too many training accidents anymore, should he?” Oliver directed the question to Eldridge, ignoring Alena. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to know. Who performed the first shaping?”
“I did,” Alena said. “Does it matter? I needed to staunch the bleeding, or he wouldn’t have made it even this far.”
Oliver looked
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