“You must have spies everywhere,” I commented, eyeing the owl Trenwyn was whispering to and thinking about what it would be like to command every robin and squirrel as an informant within the area.  “I bet you and your circle know everything that happens here.”

“You’d lose that bet.”  He was matter of fact.  “I have to ask the right animals the right questions.  Unless I build a special relationship with them, like I have with Lucian, or Cutter here,” he gestured to his mare, “It’s more a shot in the dark.  I try to stick mainly to owls, crows, and hawks, since they’re the smartest and most useful and actually tend to remember things.  If I asked a rabbit, a whole band of Seti could have passed this way ten minutes ago, but he wouldn’t remember a thing.”

I wanted to ask more about how it worked with the Duri and their animal friends, but I also wanted to know more about majai in general.  “What about the other kinds of majai?  What are their powers and colors?”  I listened closely, determined to memorize the names and associations as he spoke. 

“The Omri are represented by red and they can manipulate fire.  The Kyristi are gray and they hold power over the skies and the weather.  The Navri are green—“

“Let me guess.  They control plants?”

Trenwyn nodded.  “All growing things.  The Laesi are blue and they hold sway over the water.”

“But it seems to me that some of these powers overlap.”  I thought about the manipulation of water as we rounded the bend and found ourselves riding beside a gorge with a small river at the bottom. 

“You are very perceptive, my lady.  We are strongest when we work in circles of six, one from each kind represented.  It is very difficult to form such circles, however.  The different circles tend to mistrust each other.”

“I noticed,” I said dryly.  “So what does it feel like when you use your power?”

Trenwyn chuckled.  “I suppose you can think of it like a fifth limb.  Majai are born with this fifth limb and it becomes only natural to use it.  When I use my power, it is much like you using your legs to run.  You tell them to do something and they obey the nerve impulses.   When I want an animal to do something, I flex my fifth limb and, like you running, my energy goes into making what I want happen.  Sometimes I try too hard—like running a grueling race—and I am exhausted afterward.  There are even times, depending on what I try, that I fail.  Some things are beyond the scope of my ambition, but some of these things can be done by linked majai or the very strong.  For you, however, it would be like trying to use a third leg you never had.  How could you channel your will and energy into a non-existent limb?  It’s like that for me with the other powers.  If I were to try to make it rain, I wouldn’t even know where to begin, but for a Kyristi maj or even a Laesi maj, it comes as naturally as speaking to animals does for me.”

“Have there always been majai here like this?”

“Ah, the history of the majai.  Well, the formal political organization of the different circles is a relatively new phenomenon here in the north, though it is merely a modern version of a more ancient way, but there have always been majai on Orb as far as I know.  The Circling happened about twenty-five years ago here.” 

I nodded, not really sure exactly what he was saying, but glad for any knowledge.  “Do majai and the normal humans get along okay?  I’m kind of surprised you all aren’t the ruling class with the normal people as your slaves.”

Trenwyn frowned, though not at me.  “Yes.  It has been that way at times in the past, but there are many fewer majai than there are humans, and we really have no claim to rule.  Just because I can stop a bear from attacking, doesn’t give me the right to be mayor of the village, if that’s what you were thinking.  Most of us take our special abilities as a weighty responsibility to use them for good.  If anything, the Duri here in Rhir believe majai should be servants of society, not the rulers.”

“And are all majai similarly altruistic?”  I was highly skeptical.

Trenwyn shook his head.  “Obviously not.  If they were, you would never have come to be here.”

“Are the Seti the only ones who abuse their powers?”  The road had widened into a well-traveled lane, moving away from the ravine.

“No, but others seem to abuse power on an individual basis.  The Seti are the only circle to do it as a group and with the full support of leadership.”  Trenwyn looked up and down the new wide road, held out his hand again, and this time conversed with a large crow that swooped down to him.  When the bird left, his expression was grim.  “The mercenary has been here, Ethereal,” he announced.  “He was here yesterday.”

I tried to keep my face blank.  “Well, we knew he was in the area.  Just because he was here, doesn’t necessarily mean he was after me.”

Trenwyn shot me a “don’t be so stupid” kind of look, wheeling his horse back the way we’d come.  I said nothing, my thoughts on Navarre, praying he would succeed in his mission.  It had almost been twenty-four hours now.  Two more days to find out whether I got to still be me or not. 

“So, is there an official way to become a maj?  Do you all go to maj school?” I asked as we rode back, nearing the village at a brisk trot.

“There is usually a kind of apprentice system.  Children, sometimes as young as ten, are taken in, one or two at a time, by mature majai and given five years training.  Sometimes they aren’t discovered in time and there are occasional rogue majai with only self training, but most end up killing themselves if they don’t have proper instruction.  Our powers are like muscles.  Unused they remain weak.  Used incorrectly, they develop wrong.  The more they are used properly, the stronger they become.”

We reached the gate and were forced to duck low in order to avoid being scraped off our mounts.  A thought struck me as we rounded the corner of the barns and came in sight of the stables.   “Trenwyn, are there any women majai?”

“Of course.  Some circles have more women than others.”

“Like which?”

“In the Navri, there are more women than men.  There are also higher numbers in the Seti and the Kyristi.  The Laesi have fewer and Omri fewer still.  I know of no women at all in the Duri circle, though it may just be that they are rare enough that I’ve not met or heard tell of any.”

That was interesting.  Maybe different powers were inherently masculine or feminine.  I would have thought that women would be adept at dealing with animals, though.  Dismounting at the stable gate, I turned Dusk over to the waiting boy.  “Are the Seti the largest circle, or how are they more powerful than any of the rest of you?”

Trenwyn shrugged, frowning.  “That’s what we’re trying to find out.  They are larger in number, and we don’t know why that is, but they’re also stronger when it comes to the shared powers, like name control, crossing to Earth, placing signs, and pulling earthers back here.  If both a Duri maj and a Seti maj knew someone’s true name, it would be the Seti who would win in a battle for control nearly every time.  I want to find out why.”

“And are there ways to tell majai apart besides their rings?  Do all majai wear rings?”

“Yes.”  We strode out of the stables toward Trenwyn’s house.  “Well, at least, all majai have rings, though not all wear them at all times.  Other than that, all majai have pointed ears.  All of the Duri circle have shaven heads.  Most Seti have a small crescent moon and two stars—their symbol—tattooed on their right wrists, just behind their thumbs.”

“What about the other circles?”

“Some have signs, others do not.  About the only thing all majai have in common is the pointy ears.”

We were getting close to Trenwyn’s house but I didn’t want to go back yet.  “Trenwyn, I think I’ll stay out for a while and get to know the town a little better.”

It was clear from his face that Trenwyn didn’t like the idea.  He was probably wishing I was an animal that he could simply command.

“I promise I’ll stay away from all people wearing black.”

At last, he sighed.  “At least go change into a skirt and sandals so you blend in a little more.”

I nodded that I would.

“I will plan to meet you for supper at the Bane by five and a half crows.”

My perplexed look signaled my confusion.

“It’s the way we tell time,” Trenwyn offered.  “Like a rooster’s crow.  One crow is roughly equal to three of your hours.  Five and a half crows would mean seven-thirty Earth time.”

I should have thought of this before.  Not everyone would automatically tell time the same way.  “Alright.  I’ll see you there.  But what crow is it now, Trenwyn?”

“It’s a little after fourth crow, I think.  That’s three o’clock Earth time,” he added.

As small as Rhir was, I should be able to get to know it relatively well before rejoining Trenwyn.  “I’ll meet you later.”  I flashed him a reassuring smile and both he and the wolf stood watching me until I turned a corner.