For a precious slip of a tick Kit's senses were her own again. She opened her eyes and saw a blurry image of her father, splitting, doubling, trickling. Something dribbled out of her open mouth and nose, something red that spiraled up and into the palm of her father's hand. "Gods above," she heard him whisper, panic in his eyes. "Please, Kova . . . Please don't be dead . . . !"
The pain eased from a terrible fire to an aching soreness. Her eyes fluttered peaceful shut, and she fell away into white nothing.
Something soft pressed against her back, something warm draped across her body, a terrible aching. Kit stirred, peeked open her eyes and saw leth's soft, half-light through her window, painting a beautiful white-blewrectangle across her bed. She winced, threw off her sheets and stood up, on unsteady feet that swayed too and fro. Her whole body hurt, not just Kit was used too. Kit clapped her hands over her body, felt the pain of touching wounds but when she lifted her clothes to examine it Kit found bruises all over, splotches of brown and purple across her skin gained through her flailing and the probing of her father's magic, and . . .
There was a white bandage, stained with red along her palm, tied tight around her left hand. Kit slowly unwound the bandage, revealed a long horizontal cut across her palm that still bled as though it were fresh. A chill ran through Kit's body, enough to make her shiver head to toe. Kit rewrapped the bandage as best she could, which was not very neat and not very tight, and wandered down the stairs.
Auntie was, surprise surprise, sitting in her chair, knitting. Uncle was out doing Trickster knew what. But Kit saw her father standing in front of the stairs. it winced back, just seeing him. "I told you it would hurt," he said. A pause, a concern flaring up in his eyes. "Are you doing alright?"
Kit brushed off her trousers. "I am not
alright!" She said, trying to clench her hands into fists and grimacing when it only cause her pain. "What did . . ."
"It's called reimancy." Her father said, his voice clipped. His fingers danced in nervousness across his sides. "Reimancers make res, and we can turn it into any of the four elements. Fire, earth, air and water, all four. A reimancer is a master of these elements, and everything that comes between them."
Res? That reddish, fluid
pain had a name? "You didn't do a damn thing with 'elements!'" She hissed.
"That's right," he said. "I just made you a reimancer."
Kit stared.
"There's only one way to teach reimancy to someone who can't already use it," her father said. "Res must be pushed into the body, deeply enough that the soul remembers the shape of res. So deep that it can begin to make it on its own."
"No. No! This is mad!"
Her father pointed his palm toward the sky. A thin ball of res lifted from his hand and floated there. "It's not difficult," he said. "Controlling it is the hard part, but you don't want to control it yet, do you? Do you want to see what your res looks like, little Kova? Hold out your hand . . ."
Nonsense, was what this was! Nonsense! Kit rolled her eyes and held out her hand.
"Will it," her father said, and Kit willed it. There was pressure in her hand, like something was trying to force its way out of her skin from the inside. Something ethereal and green leaked from under her bandage, flowed slowly and cascaded over the edge of her hand like a little waterfall, dissolving into nothing before it could fall over a foot. But that was not what took her breath away.
It was like drinking a handful of fresh water when your throat had never known moisture, it was a pleasure that rang through the whole of her body, left her hands trembling and her eyes big.
"You have to believe. I only meant the best. Your mother has left you . . . so much," Kit's father said. "This will be
my first gift to you. It's magic, Kit. For the rest of your life. Isn't that worth a little bit of pain?"
Kit stopped the stem of res. Closed her hand into a fist. She wasn't sure anymore. ". . . I guess?"
"If you're feeling up to it," her father said, his voice soft, understanding, comforting. "There are some tests we need to do. We need to find out what your element is together. How does that sound?"
"I . . ." Was this what fathers were supposed to do? Was this what daughters were supposed to do? Kit stared at him for a long moment, trying to sort out everything in her head. ". . .Okay."
