But the Speck part of me perceived things from a very different angle. A Great Man not only needed a feeder, he was entitled to one. I was a Great Man of the Specks, and Olikea’s kin-clan should have felt honored that I had chosen to live among them. For Olikea to decide that she did not relish her duty was a grave insult to me as well as a threat to my well-being. Anger upwelled in me, an anger founded deep in a Speck awareness of the affront to me. Was I not a Great One? Had not I given up everything to become a vessel for the magic? What right had she to begrudge me the assistance that most would have found an honor?

A peculiar tingling ran over me from head to foot, not unlike the pins-and-needles sensation of a limb that has been still too long. From somewhere in me, Soldier’s Boy summoned strength and sat me up. My Speck self, so long subjugated by my Gernian identity, looked around with disdain. Then, as if he were pulling off a sweaty shirt, he peeled himself free of me. In that instant, he separated us and I, Nevare the Gernian, abruptly became a bystander observing my own life. He looked down at his wasted body, at the empty folds of skin where once a wealth of magic had been stored. I felt his disgust with me. Nevare had wasted his magic, wasted it in a temporary solution that saved no one and nothing. He lifted the empty ripples of belly skin and then let them fall with a small groan of dismay. All the magic he had stolen from the Plainsfolk at the Dancing Spindle, all the magic he had acquired since then and painstakingly hoarded, gone! All of it foolishly squandered in a vain show of power. A fortune had been traded for trinkets. He lifted the folds of his depleted belly and then let them fall again. Tears of rage stung his eyes, followed by a flush of shame. He had been immense with magic, full of power, and stupidity had wasted it all. He gritted his teeth at his diminished status. He looked like a starved man, a weakling who could not even provide for himself, let alone shelter his kin-clan. That wastrel Nevare knew nothing of being a Great Man, nothing of magic. He had not even chosen his feeder well, but had simply accepted the first woman who offered herself. That, at least, could be quickly mended. He lifted his eyes to stare sternly at Olikea.

“You are not my feeder.”

Olikea, Jodoli, and Firada were staring at him in amazement, the sort of amazement that would be roused by a stone speaking. Olikea’s mouth opened in shock and a parade of emotions passed over her face. Insult, shock, regret, and anger all vied to dominate her features.

As Nevare, I watched the drama unfold before me as an audience rather than a participant. I could hear and see, but I could not speak or control the body I inhabited. I was aware of his thoughts. Could I influence them? I could not find in myself the ambition to try. My Speck self’s devastation at how I had wasted our magic drained me of purpose. Let him deal with the unreasonable demands of the magic and see if he could do any better!

I watched with sour amusement as Olikea tried to master her face. She strained to look concerned rather than insulted. Olikea had never heard this man speak to her in such tones before. It angered her, but she tried for a calm voice. “But, Soldier’s Boy, you are weak. You need—”

“I need food!” he snapped. “Not useless talk and whining complaints. Food. A true feeder would have seen to my needs first and saved rebukes and complaints for later.” Within the wasted body, I moved like a shadow behind Soldier’s Boy. My Speck self submerged me in his interpretation of the world. I surrendered and became still. Olikea glanced sideways at her sister and Jodoli. She hated being humiliated before them. She squared her shoulders and tried a firm and motherly approach. “You are hungry and weak. Look at what you have done to yourself. Now is no time to be difficult, Soldier’s Boy. Stop saying silly things and let me tend to you. You are not yourself right now.”

I smiled in harmony with Soldier’s Boy. She had no idea how correct she was.

At that moment, I became aware of a scent on the air, the smell of something essential. He turned toward it, forgetting Olikea. The small sunburned boy was returning with a basket full of berries. He was hurrying, his round cheeks joggling as he trotted up to me. “I’ve brought you the berries,” he called as he hastened up. His eyes met mine. I think he suddenly realized that it was unexpected for me to be awake. His blue eyes reflected a child’s horror at how wasted my body was. Then, as quickly, horror was replaced with sympathy. He thrust the basket at me. “Eat them! Eat them quickly!” In his haste, the basket tipped and a few berries bounded out of it to rest on the moss like scattered jewels.

“Clumsy boy! Give those to me! They are for the Great One,” Olikea told him sharply.

The youngster simultaneously cringed and pushed the basket toward her. As Olikea dropped her hand to take the basket, Jodoli looked away; Firada scowled. “No,” Soldier’s Boy said firmly.

“But you must eat these, Soldier’s Boy.” Olikea’s manner had changed in an instant. From being stern with the boy she went to cajoling me. “They are what you need to regain your strength. Once you have strength back, we can begin to replenish your magic. But first, you must eat these.”

The smell of the berries reached his nostrils, piquant and tempting. He shivered with want. He clasped his hands together to keep from snatching at them. “No. I take nothing from you. The boy brought the gift to me. Let him present it to me. The honor of serving a Great Man is his.”

Nevare would have blushed to say such words. Nevare would never have claimed such importance for himself. But this was not Nevare, no matter how I might think of him in terms of “I” and “me.” This was someone else, and I was only his silent shadow.

Olikea caught her breath. Her eyes narrowed and I thought she would challenge his words. Instead, she stood abruptly, turned on her heel and stalked away. Jodoli and Firada stared after her, but the boy’s full attention was on me. Awed by the honor, he dropped to his knees, the basket cradled in both his hands, and then walked on his knees toward me. The closer he came, the more compelling the smell of the food became. Soldier’s Boy did not take the basket from him, but dipped both hands in to fill them with berries and then raised the cupped berries to his mouth. In a very short time, the basket was empty. As Soldier’s Boy heaved a sigh of satisfaction, the boy’s face shone. He leapt to his feet, then seemed to recall he was in my presence and dropped back to his knees. On his knees, he again backed away from the forest mage and then once more rocketed onto his feet. “I know where there are yellow mushrooms,” he exclaimed, and before Soldier’s Boy could respond, he spun about and dashed off.

My Speck self looked around. I had expected to find myself in a Speck village, but there were no shelters, no cook fires, nothing to indicate that we were anywhere except in the wild heart of the mountain forest. “Where is everyone?” I heard Soldier’s Boy ask, and realized the stupidity of his question. He took a breath. “Jodoli. How did I come to be here?”

Jodoli looked uncomfortable but spoke bluntly. “You overspent your magic and fell, dying, near the end of the intruders’ road. One of the ancestor trees was shamed to see a Great Man perish so, untended and without a tree to take him in. He used what life was left to him to start the whispering. And Lisana, your sponsor, added her strength to make it a command. I was summoned, as was Olikea. Firada came with me to tend me. And Olikea brought Likari to run and fetch for her.

“It was Olikea’s duty to bring you back into the shade, for you had fallen in full sunlight. She and Likari were burned bringing you to safety, for even depleted, you were a heavy load for them to shift, and there was no time for them to weave shade-cloaks for themselves. Once you were beneath the shelter of the trees, Firada was able to help them. We brought you here, well away from the brightness. And Olikea set about doing what she could to revive you. I am surprised that you are restored even this much. Never have I seen a Great One so depleted.”