The stud in Eshe's nose twinkled.

What would Noi think of all this? Eshe had stepped so smoothly into her caretaker's place – that alone should have been suspect.

But if she wanted to kill me, she had plenty of opportunity. In the dead of night as they stood by the rails, watching the stars ... one quick push and all would have been over. How careless Isla had been. All that jin must have muddied her better judgement. Surely the fact I am still here is evidence Eshe means no harm.

Eshe reached across the small table between them and took her hand. 'I can help, you know, with the aches.'

'Are you a therapeut?'

'No. But yours is a pain no physical treatment can remedy.'

Isla raised an eyebrow. 'What do you know of my pain?'

Another twinkle. Blue, Isla noticed. It gave off a coral-blue glow when the afternoon light hit it just so.

'I know it spreads,' said Eshe, 'if you do not learn to control it.'

'Absurd. Headaches aren't contagious.'

'We both know yours is no ordinary ache.' Isla pulled away, but Eshe held her hand steady. 'I am what they call an empath. A mind-healer, in Eastern-Isle terms. A rare gift; one many deem of no use. It gives me an attunement to others. I cannot delve into one's mind and pick at its contents, but I can taste one's emotions. Feel one's sentiments as if they were my own.'

Of all the people I had to come across. Isla cursed. How much does she know?

'Now you are afraid.' Eshe sighed and released Isla's hand. 'This is why I did not tell you. I do not want you to worry, less so be doubtful of me.'

Isla frowned. 'I have never doubted you. Even now, when I should.'

Eshe smiled, though the stone sparkling in her nose distracted Isla from anything else. 'I am a healer. Not of maladies of the body, but that of the mind. Often, they intersect.'

Again Isla found herself thinking of Noi.

A healer of the mind. Of course. 'So it would be of great advantage if your theurgy not only allowed you to sense another's emotions, but also impose your own.'

'That gift most empaths are not able to attune to.'

'But you aren't most empaths. I've always wondered about that stone in your nose. Twinkling even when there's no light to catch. My handmaid had earrings just like it. They would sparkle every time she used her theurgy. Gold, like a star.'

Eshe's smile turned into one of discomfort. 'A bloodrune – or the remnants of mine. Sometimes I forget it is there. Bloodrunes react whenever its owner uses theurgy, glowing out of its pores. You can fashion them into any trinket your heart desires. My people hold candour in high regard, thus ours we wear where others can plainly see.'

'So you admit it.'

'I have indeed learnt to harness my gifts and channel it in ways most others of my kind cannot. I like to think I use it to help others, though.'

'Is that what you've been doing the past week? Helping?'

'I may have ... imposed ... upon you some confidence in me. I only wanted you to feel – to know – you have a friend. I meant no offence.'

The blue shimmer dissipated as Eshe spoke, leaving in its place a warm but dull yellow stone. With it went the warmth from Isla's stomach. A veil lifted; where seconds before she had felt calm and secure, now was replaced by a rising anger. 'You tricked me into a friendship –'

'I have grown accustomed to altering people's emotions, it has become reflexive for me. Much like breathing. I forget it is an invasive thing, no matter my motive.'

'Have you forgotten how to make friends like a normal human?' Isla snapped, her glass spilling as she rose.

Eshe looked at her imploringly. 'I truly am sorry. All I can say is I meant no harm by it.'

The pounding revisited Isla's head. She wished to recline; hide in her cabin for the rest of the voyage.

Eshe stopped her before she could leave. 'I can feel it, too, you know. The pain. It's what made me seek you out to begin with.'

'Don't worry.' Isla snatched her arm away from her. 'I'll keep my distance. That way it won't infect you or anyone else.'

'How long do you plan on remaining a recluse? You cannot avoid it forever.'

'It is no concern of yours.'

'Walls cannot dampen your pain from me – you must learn to quiet it. Control it, before it controls you.'

'One cannot control pain –'

'Yours is theurgy, suppressed for so long and having had a taste of freedom. I do not know why you hide it –'

'I hide nothing!' That secret had been compromised, after all. Isla repeated the story she had rehearsed tirelessly with Aldir. 'I'm a late-bloomer. Returning home to be blooded.'

'Keep your reasons. I am here to help you. People have died from internal theurgic reactions.'

A horn blasted somewhere behind them; the early-evening call for dinner.

Isla sighed and met Eshe's eyes. 'I don't even know what my theurgy is.'

'I have an inkling.' Eshe stepped closer to Isla, dropping her voice. 'Its instinctual manifestation is to reach into the mind. That alone tells me your theurgy lies within the cognitist order, or mind-weavers, as they call it outside Cor Regnis.'

'It still could be anything.'

'You suffer from head pains, but do you hear voices? Experience visions? Do objects inexplicably move around you?'

'No. Only pain.'

'A spreading one. Yours is invasive; more so even than other mind-weaving talents. Its instinct is to hurt. Only one theurgy meets all this.' Voices drifted as other passengers flitted into the dining cabin below. Eshe continued once they passed, 'A dangerous one. Especially of your magnitude, and so ungoverned ... like a boar thrashing blindly through a campfire.'

'I'm not going to stand here and listen as you compare me to a wild pig.'

'You miss my point.' Eshe followed Isla across the deck and down to the dining cabin. 'Yours is a rare talent, my friend. Do you know what you are capable of? I can impose emotions over another, but you – you can impose your will.'

Isla schooled her expression. Eshe's words frightened her. If what she said was true, who could say how many times in the past Isla had unintentionally enforced her will unto another?

'But you have no subtlety, the way your theurgy spreads so painfully,' Eshe was saying. 'Anyone subjected to your mind-meddling would recognise it within seconds. Anyone skilled enough could raise their defences, block you out. Some may even turn it against you.'

Their footsteps clomped along the gangway. Isla pushed open a set of double-leafed doors. Spices pervaded the air, and the sound of plates and cutlery among a buzz of conversing passengers. She scanned the room for a vacant table.

Eshe was implacable. 'Do you know how that will end? If someone turns your coercion against yourself?'

'What did you say?'

'You would be reduced to a bubbling fool; lost in your own mind.'

'No; what did you call my theurgy just now?'

'Coercion.' Eshe looked at her, puzzled. 'This is what you are. A coercer. They call it mind-crafting in the Eastern Isles.'

Isla crossed the room towards an empty table, pretending the revelation did not excite her. Eshe followed in perfect stride.

'Coercion and empathy – theurgy such as ours have many things in common, including the bases of its governance. I can teach you finesse; how to use theurgy so that your subjects will not detect it.'

A coercer. She had never heard her theurgy named before. She never had the opportunity to research her particular ability. I never even knew where to start.

'I can teach you how to build your jii. Protect yourself against other mind-weavers; overpower others' defences in turn. Above all, I can teach you discipline. It is the only way your theurgy will stop hurting you and everyone around.'

Isla's heart was leaping. Having a mentor was all she had ever wanted. 'I suppose you'd do all that out of the goodness of your heart?'

'If it gives me less headaches from that invasive mind of yours.'

'Why should I trust someone who tricked me into trusting them in the first place?'

Eshe welcomed herself to a seat. 'Because we are on this ship for at least another three weeks, and we have nothing better to do.'

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