Tristan's Tale Pt. 04

"More or less," he replied. We walked through the doors into a long, wide hallway. "It leads to a lot of multi-person engagements. You have to synchronize your attempt to manipulate the other person, wear down their mental defenses in tandem with another. You join their attack, you meld your Arts together, it's all very complicated, I've heard. In the end, it makes for good practice, I imagine."

"Well, shit," I exclaimed, "Let's get Set together and make our own Clan. Forget these other people, I bet we could take them," I said. So maybe I was starting to get a little excited at the prospect of having some awesome inter-clan rivalry fighting. It didn't feel much like me, but somehow, I found myself looking forward to the prospect of conflict. Maybe there's something hardwired in people about wanting to fight - I wouldn't put that past evolution.

He laughed. "There's the spirit. I'm sure you'll do very well here." He ruffled his brown hair shyly. "As for myself, I don't know if I'll be taking my necklace off anytime soon. I'm not much good at shaping Clay, and I don't even have my Chi yet. I don't think the added distraction would do me much good. But," he added hastily, "forget about that. Pass me your schedule, I'll show you where your first class is."

I took the crumpled paper out of my pocket and passed it to him. He glanced at it, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Wow," he said, passing it back to me, "They loaded you up with a full schedule on your first day. That's unheard of."

"Full schedule?" I asked. That didn't sound good.

"Seven classes a day. Usually they build you up to it, but, I suppose nothing has been going normally with you, has it?" he said, smiling.

We came to a part in the hallway where it divided into three identical corridors. Other people filed past us into them. One corridor, it seemed, had a lot less traffic than the other two.

"Classrooms are organized by type. Mind, Body, and Spirit. The thing is," he continued, "Each hallway looks the same, so-"

"Don't tell me," I groaned, "They change, and I'm supposed to figure out which one is which on a daily basis."

He beamed at me. "Hey, you're good. But how good: can you tell which one is which?"

"How do I do that?" I asked, eying the corridors. Always with the tests, here...

"It's pretty simple, and becomes second nature after a few days," said Emmit. "Just cast your awareness out. Not your regular awareness, but the one you used to manipulate people back home, or to get a fix on the wall of Clay. Each hallway has a certain feel to it."

I focused on the corridors in front of me, and tried to get a fix on them. Nothing came up.

"They're just hallways," I said, frustrated.

"Yes and no. Try opening up," he suggested. "As you'll no doubt learn, It's one of the fundamental methods of connecting to anything. You have to let it come to you."

Right - I thought back to when I'd emptied my mind outside Jet's room, or how I'd had to have space open in my mind to be able to have it filled with anyone's Being. I tried to think back to my first trip back, to the times when I'd used the Art to get laid. I was surprised to find that I had a hard time remembering what had happened. Names and faces of back home eluded my memory, and it didn't really bother me. I had a nagging sense that it should have, but that didn't bother me either.

"You're going to be late at this rate," said Emmit. "Which isn't so big a deal: your first class is a Body class with Kiara. But I've got Mind class with Jet, and he'll have my hide if I'm late. I don't want to give it away, but we've only got three minutes." Though he was in a hurry, somehow Emmit never portrayed any sort of irritation or excess emotion. It wasn't that he was completely collected - I couldn't quite put my finger on it. LIke it just didn't seem important to him to react overmuch.

Come on, Tristan, open up, open up. I took in the corridors, letting go of my thoughts as best I could.

And then where before there had been no difference between the three, suddenly I felt them, and the difference could not have been more obvious. It's hard to really convey what sort of feeling it is. It's not like a tingle, or a sensation of pressure. More like, if you walked into an empty room that had a single table in it, the feel of the room would be different than if you walked into an identical one with no table.

In that way, the leftmost hallway resonated with a sense of cognition in me, and I felt the openness of it, the logic, the deductive and processive capabilities that all signified the useage of the mind. The rightmost one, by contrast, was much more grounded, and quiet by contrast. The presence was stronger, and moved less.

The feeling I had about the one in the middle was more elusive - I couldn't get a handle on it as clearly. Ethereal, I got the impression that it didn't necessarily have any sort of form, but that somehow, it existed nonetheless. Not the corridor itself, but what it was representing. It both was and wasn't something else at the same time. Concentrating on it too hard made my brain hurt.

"That one's Body," I said, pointing to the right.

"There you have it. Good luck! The classroom you're looking for is on the right, it'll have a ribbon around the doorknob. Kiara's more gentle than Jet in that way, she doesn't have the same affinity for all the tests."

"Thanks, Emmit. I'll see you later."

He nodded, and walked at a brisk pace down the Mind hallway. I was tempted to investigate the Spirit corridor, but there would be time for that later, so I fell into the stream of students walking down the rightmost corridor.

Just a few paces down the hallway, I got my first taste of Set students practicing the Art.

An older, balding man in a black bathrobe was staring at a younger man who was spread eagle against the wall, as if frozen there.

I looked on curiously, slowing my pace, trying to get an idea of what was happening. Nothing seemed to be happening, though: the older guy just stood there, concentrating, while the man against the wall didn't move. What struck me most about the engagement was that the young man didn't portray any anger, or resistance of any form. He appeared to be against the wall entirely of his own volition.

It made sense, of course. When I'd made someone do something with the Art, they had done so as if from their perspective, like the action had come from themselves. Otherwise, there wasn't much point. Unless you wanted to keep them aware...Hadn't I done that? I shook my head, clearing away my thoughts.

The two stayed frozen there for a moment, until a passerby, who recognized the guy against the wall, tapped the old man's shoulder.

"One minute," he said, and then moved on down the hall. After a moment, the old man relaxed, and the young guy came off the wall. He looked at the old man, then at himself.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. "Again?"

The old man chuckled. "You've got to keep your guard up, Alex. I could see how distracted you were from all the way down the hall."

"Thanks for the reminder," replied Alex, and they shook hands and walked away like it was nothing.

I was struck by the informality of the process. Hell, Alex had even thanked him for being pinned up against the wall! That was a big difference from what I'd expected. Back home, shit, people would have been furious if they'd known they'd been controlled. I liked this attitude a lot better, and hoped it was true for everyone, and wasn't just an isolated case.

I came up to the door with a ribbon on it. As I opened it and stepped through, a bell rang.

I froze, thinking at first that it had something to do with the door. But, no, the bell rang

several more times. It was eight o'clock.

"Right on time!" said a woman's voice.

I took in the classroom - it wasn't at all what I'd assumed when I'd heard I would be going to class. There were no desks: the floor was empty save for a series of mats which were spaced in an even grid across the floor, with some space in the front. All sorts of people stood over the mats, which all appeared to be occupied.

The source of the voice was a dazzling woman standing at the front with her arms clasped behind her back. What first impressed upon me was her attire: a single span of scarlet cloth, falling from around her neck and then splayed wide across her chest, crossing over itself at her hips and twirling down her legs. Flashes of her rich, creamy brown skin peeked through the gaps in the fabric like two lovers blowing kisses across a crowded room.

The way she held her arms behind her back pushed her chest forward, accentuating her generously revealing cleavage. She was smiling at me, a warm, comforting smile that eased the tension I felt about being nearly late, and surrounded by strangers that were looking at me. A few whispers rippled through the students, and I heard my name here and there.

"Alrighty everyone," she said cheerily, "You know what to do. Get warmed up, keep your awareness on your body. I'll be back in a few. Tristan, would you mind meeting me in my office?" she asked, spinning on a heel and gliding across the floor to the opposite corner of the room. The fabric was folded over itself at her butt, but even so I could see it was well formed, and swayed seductively as she walked. More infuriating was the fact that in the places where only a single layer of cloth covered her body, it was just thin enough to get a glimpse of the skin below. It gave to her ass a painfully teasing frame.

I followed her, self-conscious about being stared at by everyone. I kept my head high, and tried to keep my cool. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other students get arranged on their mats. Some laid on the ground, others got into various positions which appeared vaguely like the Yoga I'd seen some people do back home, though I couldn't remember where I'd seen it.

She pushed a part of the wall and it swung open easily. A door that was fitted seamlessly with the rest of the wall. She walked inside and held it open for me, beaming as I passed by.

"Hey," I said weakly. For one, she was cute as all hell, with deep brown hair, a ski slope nose, and warm, inviting eyes.

But there was something else to her - a clear presence that I'd also felt about Jet. These two Odieh practically radiated power, an outward projection of a confidence in their relationship to the world, a certainty about their knowledge of themselves that was at once intimidating and awesome to feel. Sort of like watching a master at work - the skill with which a master chef wields a blade, for instance. Just seeing it makes one feel vicariously amazing, and so it was with the mere way in which the Odieh held themselves in the world.

God damn.

"Hey Tristan," she said, letting the door close behind us. We weren't in an office at all - this room was as bare as the last, but much smaller, save for a cushioned table in the middle. I rested against it, and she walked toward me, her head at about my solar plexus, but somehow I got the impression that she was much taller than me. "You can call me Kiara," she said, extending a hand. I shook it.

She took my hand and flipped it palm up, pressing into it with her other hand, feeling every groove and surface of it. "Oh, honey," she said with a smile, "Do yourself a favor and loosen up. Nothing to be scared of."

I hadn't realized it, but I was tense as all hell. "Sorry, this is all a little new for me, as you can probably imagine. I'm still getting my bearings," I said.

"Believe me, I sympathize. I remember being so lost when I first came here, I showed up to my first class a half hour late. Dante did not take kindly to that," she said, laughing and shaking her head.

"Dante was your first teacher?" I asked. I was a little surprised - I'd assumed, for some reason, that all the Odieh had come in at the same time. It made sense that that wasn't the case. There had probably been many Odieh over the years, since Shae had apparently been alive for thousands of years, if I was to believe Jet.

"Yup! Him and Italo were the only Odieh when I first showed up. I'm the newest. But there's plenty of time for stories some other time. Let's get you actually situated. I hear your first days here have been... tumultuous, to say the least."

"That's one way to say it," I said. She laughed, and squeezed my hand earnestly.

"Well, I promise that I'll be nice, and I won't chop you in half. Why don't you take your clothes off, and lie down on the table."

It was a massage table, I realized, noting the hole at one end for the head to rest. My first reaction to being asked to strip in front of Kiara was to be embarrassed, but, perhaps because I didn't want to show weakness and I wanted to get with the whole honesty program, I complied quickly, shucking my clothes and leaving them in a pile on the ground. Kiara smiled at my enthusiasm, putting a finger to her lips pensively as I got on the table and laid down on my stomach.

"So, what's going on right now?" I asked.

"Well, long story short, you were put on a ridiculous recovery track. The medicine they gave you and the amount of sheer willpower dumped into your body was enough to bring King Tut back from the dead. I'm sorry to say, though, that you haven't adjusted back to being fully functional. You may feel like it, of course, and that's owing to the fine work of the medical guys and gals. That," she said, "and the fact that Jet was pouring all his will into your survival for about two weeks."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. "He just breezed past me at breakfast today. I have a hard time believing that."

"Oh, he acts tough, but he's a big softie," she said dismissively. "Not to mention that life as an Odieh keeps you busy, especially with all the work he's taken on. I imagine he's got a lot of catch-up."

"Anyway, I just wanted to do some body work on you to ease your transition back to the real world. Some of the stuff you're going to be doing in your classes is really tough on your body, and if parts of it still aren't on board with being alive... well, you get the idea."

I heard her squirt something into her hands behind me, and then, after a moment, her hands pressed into my back.

I was taken aback by the heat - just shy of being branded, her hands pushed into the muscles next to my spine. I tensed in response.

"Hey, it's okay, honey, it won't burn you. Ease into it."

Her fingers worked magic into the muscles, and with some willpower I accepted the heat. It diffused into my body, following trails inside of me which I hadn't known existed. The pressure from her movements sent waves of warmth into me, and my tension slowly dissipated, as if persuaded to dissolution by the tune of her touch.

Her hands worked my shoulders, moving up to my neck, down to my lower back, floating over and then pressing into my obliques.

"This is so surreal," I mumbled as her hands roved over the back of my body.

"You're welcome," she said cheerfully.

"I'm still waiting for the catch, you know."

"Catch?" She asked, overly innocent. She let out a mischievous giggle as she brought her hands down to my legs, rubbing the tension out of my ligaments, relaxing parts of me I hadn't even know existed, much less known were tense.

I knew it. "I'm just saying, nothing here has ever been exactly what it seems. There's always something going on. The doors don't exist, my orientation almost kills me, I have to watch the empty boats which fed a room full of people float by before I can eat... A no-strings-attached massage by a member of the senior staff doesn't fit." It was hard getting the words out, but I'd managed to do it. So I was trying to look tough in front of the Odieh that had mastered seduction. Sue me.

"Well I was going to give you a few minutes before telling you, but if you're so keen to work, I do have a teeny-tiny assignment for you while we get your body up and running."

I needed to learn when to keep my mouth shut. "Alright, hit me."

"It's pretty simple. All you have to do is feel your body."

I put my attention on the sense I had of my body. "Mmm..." I moaned as her burning hands pressed into my calves and rocked them back and forth. "Well, I'm feeling it. I think."

"Aw, babe, I don't just mean, "be aware that you have a body". No, really, feel it. Feel what it is. For instance," she asked, moving her hand, "What am I touching right now?"

She was pressing into my side, where my scar streaked angrily across my skin. I flinched - the skin there was more sensitive, and the heat shocked me a little.

"You're touching my scar."

"Okay, sure. But what is that?"

That stopped my thinking. What was it? It was my scar, what more was there to say? "I don't understand what you mean. Skin?"

"Consider," she said, hopping onto the table and sitting on the back of my thighs, putting more pressure onto my back with one hand, rubbing deeper and getting at tensions further beneath the surface, "That you only really have an idea of a scar there. If you're not looking at it, that is." Her other hand stayed at my scar and brushed the semicircle it made out of my side. It burned, but I gritted my teeth and didn't say anything.

I thought about it for a second - it was true. What I felt about it and what I knew was there were two different things entirely. "I guess all I really have is a feeling of your fingers in my side - agh!" I exclaimed as she slapped my side.

"Yup!" She said, cheerful. "Now, your job is to get what's really going on there. What is that feeling? What's actually happening for you?"

Her massage went on for a long time. All the while, I kept my attention on the feelings I had, solely on the physical sensations.

It was more challenging than I imagined it would be. Even figuring out what was physical and what was something I'd added on - she touched my shoulder, for instance, and I figured that, in my experience, I'd felt a burning sensation in my shoulder.

But - what was burning? And for that matter, what was "shoulder"? When it came down to it, I didn't actually have shoulders. Sure, I had an area on me that I would call my shoulder. But that actual distinction didn't exist for me independent of my mind.

I chuckled inwardly when it hit me: Kiara literally gave mind-blowing massages.

"You know," I mumbled at some point in the reverie of relief and sensation that was her touch, "I don't actually have a body. Not in the - ooph - way I usually think of it."

"There's a thought," she said, and to my disappointment, her hands left me. I stayed naked and prone on the table, soaking in the feeling of having been thoroughly scrubbed down, inside and out. I felt expansive, like I had inside of me a never ending steamlike energy and it was venting out of my pores.

Kiara walked over to the door and poked her head out.

"Okay everyone, move on to your partner exercises. Lauren, your knee is collapsing, by the way. And would somebody mind waking up Jackson? Thank you!"

I craned my neck up and saw her walking back toward me. How on earth did the cloth stay wrapped around her? In some places it was looser than in others, and finished around her ankle, the end hanging in the air. It was as if it barely touched her skin, that at any moment, with the slightest breath, it could be blown away, falling down to the ground to reveal the slender curvature of her body.

Experimentally, I took hold of the feeling of energy venting out of me, the state of release, like I was being poured out of myself, and directed it toward Kiara's approaching body.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Coming closer, she looked at me hesitantly.

"That was on purpose, wasn't it?" she asked.

"You felt that?" I asked, incredulous. She nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I just feel like I'm a big ball of air right now. It's amazing. I just, vented toward you. Focused it somehow."