“But what is it? How is it done?”
“To understand, you must first understand a Heresy…”
“Oh, you two and your Heresies. I have yet to understand what either of you mean by Heresy. You have said nothing I have not learned or thought a thousand times…”
“There are eleven Talents,” said Himaggery.
“Nonsense,” she contradicted him. There are thousands. All in the Index, all of them. Each type of Gamesman has his own Talent.”
“No, there are only eleven.”
“But…”
“You have asked, now be still and let me say. There are only eleven, Silkhands, twelve if you count the Immutables.”
“The Immutables have no Talent!”
“Indeed? They have the power to mute our Talents, to be themselves unchanged no matter what we attempt to do. Is that not a Talent?”
“But, that’s not what we mean when we say Talent…”
“No. But it is what is true. It is in Windlow’s book.”
“The Index lists thousands. I have learned their names, their dress, their types, how they move, their Demesnes, all…”
He turned from her to the mists and the fruit trees which mingled outside his windows. “Healer, your Talent is one of the eleven. You can name the others if you would. They are those which you have recently learned at Windlow’s House.”
“You mean what Windlow said about the First Eleven, from the religious books? What has that to do with…”
He laughed. “Silkhands, you are such a child. Do you know that elsewhere in this world there is a group of very powerful Wizards who are known, collectively, as the Council? Did you know that they have taken upon themselves to assure that there are no heretics in our world? None who speak of arrangements not found in the Index? None who talk of the Immutables having Talent? You are so innocent. Here, we can talk of it. Here you are safe, in the Bright Demesne. But you will not thank me for it.
“It was Windlow who saw it, long years ago, and taught it to me, quietly, so that it should not come to the attention of the Guardians, those of the Council whose interest it is to maintain things always as they are. It was Windlow who saw that the books of religion are actually books of history, that what was said about the descent of our forebears was indeed true.
“We are told of Didir, a Demon. Imagine, Silkhands, imagine Yarrel, a world in which there were no Talents. It will be easy for you, Yarrel. Imagine a world all pawns. No power but the power of muscle and voice, persuasion and blows, nothing else. Perhaps some power of intelligence, too. Windlow and I argue about that.”
“There would be intelligence,” said Yarrel. “There is power in intelligence. I know. I can imagine your world.”
“Very well. Then, imagine that into this world is born one woman who can read the thoughts of others. Didir. Why is it that we call them Demons? Those who read thoughts? Hmmm? We speak of evil godlets as demons, wicked spirits are demons. Why, then, is a Reader a Demon?”
“Because they would have considered her an evil spirit, an evil force,” said Yarrel. “They could not have helped but feel that way. It would have been terrible for them to have their thoughts wrenched out into the open, laid before others…”
“Ah, yes. Even so. And the books of religion go on. They say that one was born named Tamor, an Armiger. The oldest books say Ayrman. Why is that do you suppose?”
“Because he could fly,” said Silkhands. “Armigers can fly.”
“And what would the world of pawns think of that?”
“They would wonder at him,” said Yarrel. “And fear him, and perhaps hate him. I wonder that they did not kill him.”
“Windlow says not,” Himaggery went on. Old Windlow nodded where he sat. “Windlow says that they, the pawns of that world took Tamor and Didir to some other place, away from the world of the pawn.”
“What other place?” said Silkhands. “What place is there?”
Himaggery shook his head. “Who knows? But Windlow believes this because he says it makes sense out of much he has read. He says that Didir and Tamor were sent away, and that thereafter they mated with one another, and either they or their offspring mated with some of the pawns who went with them. From their mating came Hafnor, an Elator. The Talent of an Elator is to transport himself, or herself, from place to, place. Generations later, from the family and lineage of Didir came the first Seer, Sorah. And so forth. And when you have listed them all, you have eleven.”