Talon the Black (Dragonwall Series # 1)

Chapter 57 - Blocking the Voices

"Don't I know it. You have gone from servant to royal. You have gone from believing yourself ordinary to learning you are extraordinary. It is a lot for one day."

She grunted in agreement. When put that way, it was no wonder she felt frazzled. And it was also no wonder that Reyr was so touchy. She was silly to pretend he didn't care about her. He did.

"Now finish up. I am going to run to my room and retrieve something. Then we can get started."

She finished the remainder of food while Reyr disappeared. He was back a few minutes later with a small leather book, which he plopped down on the table before her. She studied it, picking it up and flipping through its pages.

"It looks like a journal of some sort," she said. The scrolling handwriting was archaic, but legible.

"Correct. It took me a few days to find that, and quite a lot of convincing to borrow it."

"Whose is it?"

"It belongs to Grand Mage Marcel now. But the journal was once the property of Grand Mage Orin's."

"And who was he?" She wasn't sure what this had to do with blocking Drengr voices.

Reyr explained that Grand Mage Orin was the first grand mage. His fascination with the Drengr, a newly created race, led him to conduct extensive research about their existence. He specifically focused on their telepathic abilities because the idea of telepathy during the early years of the Drengr was all but foreign to anyone of non-draconic descent. Even new Riders found it utterly perplexing that they could converse with their mates.

"Many in the Society were envious of our propensity for communication and still are. Rightfully so, as it is a useful capability." Perhaps that was the case for some, unless it meant hearing all of them at once, in which case it was more of a curse. "It is said," Reyr added, "that many of the Asarlaí sorcerers possessed the ability. So did some of the Sprites."

"Like Queen Isabella?" She remembered the story about the woman responsible for creating the race of Drengr. The mysterious Sprite queen was someone she was eager to learn more about.

"Ah, yes. Queen Isabella could communicate with those of draconic blood, but not like you. You are unique."

"Because I can hear all of them even when they don't intend for it?"

"Exactly." Reyr took a seat and watched her with curious eyes. He was still trying to figure her out—something he'd been doing since their first meeting. No doubt her newfound gift only complicated the task. Before this, she was merely a woman with a unique ability. Knowing what Cyrus had done, and that Cyrus did everything with intention, indicated that she was meant for some unique purpose. Reyr was desperate to find out what, which was evident by his curious scrutiny.

"So, do you think there is a chance I might block them out? Will this journal help?"

His shoulders fell. "I had hoped it would, but the explanations are vague. I imagine Grand Mage Orin never succeeded in his quest for telepathy."

It quickly became clear that the journal explained as much as Reyr could, which was very little and mostly unhelpful. All of Mage Orin's interviews with various Drengr quoted explanations similar to what Reyr gave her. They combed through its pages looking for ideas. Each time she thought she might have found a way to succeed, the result was the same. She still heard Reyr's voice. If she focused intently on something, like the color of the table or the honey pot, his voice was there. If she pretended not to hear him, imagining her mind to be one of rock, solid and unyielding, his voice was there. If she used frustration to block him out, allowing herself to get angry over the difficulty of the task, his voice was still there. It was exhausting and fruitless.