Silken Rapture (Princes of the Underground 2)

She gasped.

“Yes, Blaise and Morshiel,” Usan said in her mind. “I know it must seem strange to you—a metal womb. Humans go about the matter of procreation with so much ease and elegance, the Magian’s alchemical process must seem quite crude to you.”

“Why did you make two of them?” Isabel blurted out in her mind, hardly aware she used telepathy. The ability had always been there, but she’d just required an expert telepath for the function to be fully activated.

“Polarity is required for consciousness…for the creation of a soul. Duality is the first friction that makes choice a possibility. You humans are familiar with this concept. Heaven and hell, God and Lucifer, good and evil…”

“Light and dark,” Isabel added.

Usan smiled and Isabel started at the sight of two lethal incisors set within a truly charming smile.

“Yes, sharp things, aren’t they? Reminders of our sin.”

Her brow furrowed. She couldn’t fully wrap her mind about what he meant. “Blaise believes he is a parasite,” she mused.

“What do you believe, Isabel?”

“A parasite takes from a host, and usually harms them. A parasite cannot participate in a mutual exchange or offer its host any benefits on a long-term basis. Such sharing is the basis of relationship and communion. Blaise can give as well as take, so by definition, he is not a parasite.”

Usan’s grin widened. It shocked Isabel that he seemed as pleased as a child being shown a delightful new toy when she also sensed a wisdom so vast, she couldn’t fathom how far it stretched.

“Well said,” he praised, stepping forward, hand outstretched in greeting. “You would have made a fine Exhalted Sinalt—one of the female wise ones that advise the Empress of Magia.” He clasped her wrist in both of his hands and—much to Isabel’s shock—began to remove one glove.

“No! Don’t—”

But it was too late. Her naked hand rested in Usan’s grip. Her body went rigid.

Images and sensations didn’t bombard her consciousness, as she expected. Instead they began to enter her awareness in a sort of focused, distilled stream that she could actually receive without losing herself or becoming disoriented.

“As you know from the science of computer technology, knowledge can be distilled. I have the ability to give you telepathic information in a very concentrated form,” she heard Usan say in her mind. “Your hands—your ability for receiving information—is a known gift on Magia, if not a common one. Your hands are like the port on a computer. I am like a drive, filling with you with knowledge. A small part of you will remember this information when I let go, but most of the knowledge will only come to you if a situation requires it.”

“What is going on? How dare you! Let go of her this instant!” Isabel heard Margaret exclaim.

She started to tell Margaret that everything was fine, but suddenly Usan released her.

“It’s all right. We’re finished,” he said.

“Finished with what?” Margaret asked indignantly.

“Margaret,” Isabel said weakly. “Have you been standing there this whole time?”

“Whole time?” Margaret asked. “What do you mean? I brought your breakfast and then he walked in here, took off your glove and grabbed your hand! You went so rigid, I thought you were having a fit.” Usan blinked meekly when Margaret gave him one last accusatory glare before she snatched Isabel’s glove from him and handed it back to Isabel.

“Of all the nerve,” Margaret mumbled under her breath.

“Oh…I thought…” Isabel glanced at her breakfast and saw a thin vapor of steam rising off her eggs. It really had been a matter of seconds since Usan had walked into her suite. It felt as if hours had passed.

“Amazing.”

“I could say the same of you,” Usan said in her head.

“I want to talk to you about Blaise,” Isabel stated as she waved Usan over to a chair at the table.

“Yes, I rather thought you would,” Usan said as he went to sit down.

“He is very stubborn,” Isabel murmured.

“Yes, I have noticed that about him.”