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Mint Wind
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I gesture at my body. “Howh do weh tuhranform?”
“Well, it’s not magic, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not really. The initiation and transformation is a gift left over by our founder. We don’t really know who he or she was, at least not with one-hundred-percent certainty, but we have lots of stories. Most people who know about the Messengers are aware that our founder was one of the inventors of writing and complex language, but it’s not common knowledge that the first Messenger was the creator of Speaking, as well.”
“Huh?”
“Speaking… is complicated. Most of us don’t really get how it works, either. Basically, Speaking lets us talk to, well, anything. Some Messengers are better at speaking with specific objects or creatures, but we can all do it, with a little work. The first Messenger made a deal with Word to let every new Messenger have a free bit of Speech at the beginning, to choose our new identities.”
“Howh? Why? What?” I’m still confused.
“You spoke to your body and asked it to be something else. If you were just asking normally, nothing would happen. But you were Speaking, even if you didn’t know it at the time, so your body was able to listen, it understood what you wanted, and it obliged.”
I look down at myself. “Mah bodeeh cahn t’ink?!”
Setheral laughs. “No, no, it can’t think. It has a will, but not free will, if that makes any sense. It has the will to breathe, to heal, to circulate blood, to function in certain ways. Everything has a will. The wind has the will to move in gusts and breezes, to be breathed in and breathed out. Grass has the will to grow, tides have the will to roll in and roll out - everything has the will to be what it is. But none of them can make decisions or think. Only the Forces can do that.”
“Tuh what?”
“The Forces. Time, Space, Sound, Light, Life, Word - the ancient Forces of the universe. They can think. When you Speak to most things, those things don’t answer. When you Speak to the Forces, though, they Speak back. For most things, when you Speak to them, they’ll do what you ask them to do without any hesitation or denial. The Forces, though, will usually demand a price for their services…” Setheral trails off, then shakes her head. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this stuff. We’ve all been trying to be more careful regarding who knows how to Speak. We’ve been trying to avoid another Prodigal.”
“Who ih Puhrahdeegahl?”
Setheral is quiet for a long moment. “I probably shouldn’t say. It’s kind of an unspoken rule. We don’t talk about Prodigal, ever. Not unless we’re talking about how we’re going to kill him.”
I stare at her. She’s quite still, and very tense. “Uh…”
Noticing my expression, she relaxes. “Sorry. Prodigal is still a touchy subject for a lot of us. You’re new, so I suppose somone should tell you about him.” She sighs, and the tired sound has a lot more buzz to it. It must take a lot of effort to keep her voice discernible as human. “This is just a cautionary tale, understand? Don’t try to do what Prodigal did. We know the signs, now, and we’d stop you straightaway.”
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