When not soaking wet, the man scampered from place to place, watching what everyone else did, or he slept, or he haunted the kitchen area, trying to steal food unless it was given to him. When presented with meals, he knocked the plates over, as a child might, and proceeded to squat and eat with his fingers from the floor.
The rest of Nakor’s time was spent in the library, reading and making notes. Sho Pi was occasionally given the opportunity to ask a question or request instruction in something that he wished to understand better. Nakor often obliged him by sending him on some strange quest or asked him a seemingly incomprehensible riddle. When he accomplished the quest or admitted failure, or when he guessed the answer of the riddle, Nakor’s reaction was one of universal indifference.
The two howling students were released and Nakor said, “Thank you for volunteering to aid me in demonstrating the truth of my claim.”
To the student who belonged to the faction known as the Blue Riders, after Nakor’s previous tenure at the Academy, he said, “You believe I am being honest when I say that the energies we call magic can be manipulated without resorting to all the mumbo-jumbo most of you think is required, is that not so?”
“Of course, Master,” said the student.
Nakor sighed. All the Blue Riders called him master, despite his objections, a legacy of Sho Pi’s doing.
To the other student, a member of the faction calling themselves the Wand of Watoom, he said, “And you don’t think it’s possible, correct?”
“Of course it’s not possible. Sleight-of-hand, street mummery, certainly, but not true manipulation of the forces of magic.”
Holding up a finger, Nakor said. “Then observe.” As he moved to position himself behind his student, the nameless beggar came pushing through the circle of students. Once in a while the man whom everyone but Nakor counted mad showed an interest in what was going on. He squatted a few feet away and watched.
Nakor asked the student behind whom he stood, “Did you take any training in the reiki I taught last month?”
“Of course,” said the student.
“Very well,” said Nakor. “This is much the same thing. Make a fist.” He took the arm of the student and bent it back, then positioned the young man’s feet in a fighter’s stance. To the other student he said, “Just stand there, if you don’t mind.”
Nakor said, “Pull back your arm and feel the energy that is in you. Close your eyes if it will help.”
The student did so. “Now,” said Nakor, “feel the energy in you, coursing through you and around you. Feel it flow. When you are ready, I want you to strike a blow at that young man’s stomach, but more than just a blow, I want you to release the energy through the knuckles of your hand.
“Get ready,” he said to the student who was about to be struck. “Tighten your stomach or something. This might hurt.”
The doubting student smirked, but braced himself in case. The first student struck the blow and it thudded into the second student’s stomach, causing him barely to flinch.
“Need to work on this,” said Nakor. “You’re not feeling the energy.”
Suddenly the beggar jumped to his feet and pushed the first student aside. He balanced himself perfectly on the balls of his feet, and closed his eyes, and Nakor stepped away as he felt a fey energy crackle through the air around him. Then the beggar whipped back his hand, shot it forward, exhaling his breath as he said something that sounded like “shut.” When the blow struck, the doubting student seemed to fly backward off his feet, with an audible explosion of breath from his lungs. He sailed a half-dozen feet through the air to land atop two other students, who barely had time to react and catch him.
The struck student doubled up, holding his stomach and obviously choking. Nakor rushed over, rolled the boy on his back, and picked him up around the waist, forcing him to breathe. With a ragged inhale, and tears running down his face, the student looked at Nakor with eyes wide. Barely able to speak, he said, “I was wrong.”
“Yes, you were,” agreed Nakor. He told two other students, “Take him inside and have the healer check him over for injury. Something inside may be damaged.”
He turned to find the beggar was back on his haunches, watching with vacant eyes. Sho Pi came over and said, “Master, what was that?”
Softly Nakor said, “I wish I knew.”
Then he turned to the other students. “You see? Even that poor creature knows enough to utilize the power that is already there, around you, everywhere.” Seeing that most faces were only showing astonished confusion, Nakor waved his hand toward the main building and said, “Very well. This lesson is over. Go back to whatever it is you do at this time.”
As the students departed, Nakor came over to where the beggar squatted, and hunkered down to gaze at the man’s eyes. Where, for a brief instant, something powerful and wise had been glimpsed, now only a vacant pair of orbs were seen. Nakor sighed. “My friend,” he said, “just what are you?”
After a moment he stood and turned, to find Sho Pi, as he had expected. “I wish I were a smarter man,” he told his self-appointed student. “I wish I knew more.”