Page 38 of Court of Talons
Sure enough, I receive only silence to my question.
I try again.
“Um, can you…” I shake my head at the ridiculousness of talking to a monster. How could this enormous creature even know my language?
The Divh simply stares back at me, his face placid for all that his gaze is direct. I think of the men on the stage, even of Merritt. He’d shouted to his Divh, sometimes cursing at it, but was all that even necessary? Or was simply Merritt’sthoughtof leaping into the air all that was needed to show his Divh his intentions. Surely the men on the platforms hadn’t shouted to their Divhs—they couldn’t have. They were too far away. So there must be some sort of mental connection…right?
I picture myself turning around in Gent’s hand as if we are in the middle of the coliseum. I fling my arms out, seeing all there is to see, imagining myself focusing intently on the smallest rock at the top of the stands, or the farthest wooden tower, or the far-distant campfires dotting the hills beyond Trilion. Then in my mind’s eye, I imagine Gent looking around the same way.
My eyes suddenly cloud over, then clear, and I blink in amazement.
I’m looking at the coliseum from a great height. I can see the stadium and the mass of fighting platforms far below, but I can’t tell if anyone stands atop them. I can see the myriad campfires stretching into the night, but I cannot make out fine details. And beyond the edge of the wasteland to the other side of the coliseum, where I know the mighty castle of the First House stands, I can see nothing but an indistinct blur.
Gent isn’tblind, exactly, but he can’t see as well as I would have thought for something whose eyes are the size of a waterwheel.
“That’s okay,” I say, patting his meaty paw. “You can still see farther than I can. That’s good enough.”
I blink again, and once more we’re surrounded with the heavy blue mists of Gent’s plane. The Divh’s chuffing breath blows across my face, smelling of grass and rich earth. I peer around, trying to understand.
“It’s night here?” I ask him. Another huff, and I sense the answer is yes. Probably just as well. If I could see too much more, I’m not sure my nerves could take it.
Instead, I imagine Gent putting me back down on the ground. His paw moves, more slowly this time as well, as if he thinks I might break. Which, of course, I might.
When I stumble out of his paw and back onto the yard, however, my knees suddenly give way beneath me. I sink to the dirt?—
A resounding crash sounds beside me.
My teeth bounce off each other and I turn, scrambling up again.
In mirror fashion, Gent leaps to his feet and backs away, covering the distance of five hundred ordinary paces in a few short steps. Despite the mist, I can see him more clearly now. His snout is stretched into an outsized grin, and his arms are flailing wildly…
I freeze my own arms, forcing them back down to my sides. “He just…mimics me?”
“That’s the most simplistic way of explaining it, yes.” Nazar’s voice is in my ear once more, as clearly as if he’s with me in this plane. “You are bonded. What you do—he does.”
“But, he’s giant. I’m not. Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”
Nazar pauses for a long moment, then continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “You must learn to fight with your mind, not your fists, Talia. Otherwise, your Divh fights with its fists and not its mind. And you will fail if that happens.”
“He,” I grumble. “It’s ahe, Nazar. His name is Gent.”
Nazar’s chuckle reassures me that he was already aware of this distinction. “And Gent is no longer linked to Merritt, but to you. He has changed.”
I flush. “He was forced to change. He needed to be stronger.” Irritation wars with my embarrassment. “To make up forme. That I’m weaker, our connection forbidden. His role is to take care of me and, well, I guess he will.”
Nazar doesn’t speak for a long moment, but I don’t need him to confirm what I know to be true. “Then given all that,” he finally says, “what are Gent’s strengths?”
I stand back and look at the monster, who takes a similarly long stride backward. “Size.” That’s certainly true. Gent stands far taller than the coliseum—as tall as the two monsters that fought in the exhibition match, I’m certain. Maybe even taller. “Big legs, big arms, big hands.” I tilt my head, considering him. The Divh tilts his and considers me back. “He can run fast I bet, faster than most.”
Gent chuffs a happy breath.
“He can hit and—because he’s sort of built like me, with, uh…arms, I understand how he hits.” Sort of.
“That’s a good observation. What are his weaknesses?”
“He doesn’t have a lot of wide mass—so stability. He can’t fly. He can’t…” I frown at Gent. “Do you breathe fire or anything?”
Gent scowls at me. He blows out a long breath and cocks his head as if to see the results.