Chapter 404: Watch 2

"You have plenty of feeling. You have already learnt it from me. What you lack is a place to put it. Do not push the water out of your hand. Call it in. Imagine the air is full of it, and that you are only gathering what already waits."

His breath touched the side of her neck, warm and slow.

Nellie’s shoulders did not move.

She kept her eyes on the pot and her breathing even, and the warmth at her back became one more thing to set aside.The mist clung to her braid. A drop ran down the inside of her wrist.

"Good," the Light said. "Now call it."

She tried.

She called the water as he had told her to, and the mist came, but too thick and too fast, and it burst on her hand in a splash that soaked her sleeve to the elbow.

Cold water ran down her wrist and dripped from her fingers. She tried again.

The arrow formed, too fat, and drooped, and fell in a puddle at her feet.

The third one flew a short, wobbling distance and collapsed in the dirt halfway to the pot. Water splashed across the packed earth.

Her braid was damp. Her sleeve clung to her arm.

"The shape is the problem," the Light said patiently. "Not the water. You are pushing it out of yourself. You must lead it."

Nellie gave one short nod. Her jaw was set, her sleeve was soaked, and her eyes never left the pot.

"Again," she said. Her voice was small, but it did not shake.

"Close your eyes first."

She closed them.

"Breathe in. Let it out slowly. Feel the mana in your chest. It is already warm. Let it travel down your arm, to your fingertips, gently, and let it go as you would hand something to a friend." He kept one hand over hers.

The other settled lightly at her waist. "Picture the arrow. It is thin. It is straight. It has one purpose."

She pictured it. She pictured a line of clear water the length of her forearm, thin and straight, with a point at one end and balance along the whole of it.

She held the picture with such seriousness that a crease formed between her brows, and the warmth in her chest ran down her arm and gathered in her fingertips.

The mist in the air thinned. A single drop of water formed on the tip of her finger and held.

"There," the Light said, very quietly. "Now draw."

She drew. His hand guided hers back to her cheek.

"Aim at the pot. Not at the air in front of it. At the pot."

"I— yes."

"Release."

She let go.

The arrow was thin and pale, and not at all straight. It wobbled in the air, lost half its length before it reached the crate, and hit the side of the pot with a soft, ineffectual tick.

But the pot moved.

It slid half an inch along the crate and stopped.

Nellie’s eyes flew open. She stared at the pot. She stared at it for a very long time. Water dripped from her sleeve onto the earth. Her heart was beating hard enough that she could feel it in her throat.

"I did it," she said. "It moved. Light, I— it moved."

"It did."

She spun around, forgetting his hands and her own flushed face, and looked up at him with shining eyes. "Thank you. Thank you, Light. Thank you so much."

Lor smiled. Then he let out a long breath and closed his eyes.

The pressure in the lot let go with a soft pop in her ears, and the sounds of the street flooded back. A cart rolled past on the other side of the fence.

Someone called a price for onions.

His shoulders dropped. His eyes cleared. He blinked once and scratched the back of his head. "Hey," he said, in his own easy voice. "That was good, Nellie."

"Lor!" She turned fully to him, and then caught herself, and bowed, and bowed again. "Thank you. Thank you for teaching me. And thank you to the Light, too. I’m so grateful."

He grinned and dusted off his sleeves.

"You should be thanking yourself," Lor said. "You only needed four tries. Most people take weeks to move a pot."

Nellie stared. "Weeks?"

Lor lied as usual, he had no idea. He just wanted to see this girl happy.

"Weeks. The Light doesn’t hand out a gift like that to just anyone." He folded his arms and nodded toward the pot.

"It saw something in you. It sees potential in people who work hard, and it rewards them. Today is proof. You asked for help with math, and it helped. You asked for help with precision, and it helped. Now you’ve moved a pot with a water arrow on your first lesson. That isn’t luck."

Her lips parted. Her eyes went bright and wet behind her glasses, and for a moment she did not seem to know where to put her hands. The mist had settled on her braid.

A drop ran down the side of her neck.

"Do it again," Lor said. "Show me."

She nodded fiercely, planted her feet exactly where he had taught her, hips squared and weight on the back foot, and raised her right hand.

She breathed in. She called the water. This time the mist came thin and quick, and the arrow took shape in her palm, still a little crooked, but real.

She pulled it back to her cheek and let it go.

Tick.

It hit the pot dead center, and the pot rocked on its crate.

She tried again. The second arrow flew wide and drilled a neat little hole in the dirt.

The third hit the rim, and the pot spun a quarter turn.

The fourth hit the side with a clear, bright clang, and the pot skidded off the crate and tumbled to the ground. Water splashed across the packed earth.

Her sleeve was soaked through.

Her face was flushed. She was breathing hard, and she was smiling.

Lor started clapping.

He did it properly, with a grin on his face and his whole attention on her. "Nice," he said.

"That’s really good, Nellie. Really good."