The Unspoken: Book One in the Keres Trilogy by A. E. Waller

I hate being in the wrong. It makes obedience that much more impossible.
    “ Let ’ s start again, ” Abbot says calmly. He adjusts the charts, bringing the elaborate diagram of the left arm forward so we can concentrate on the movement nerve group. “ This group can be used to control movement. That ’ s movement of objects, people, whatever. Your use of the group will depend on what your brain can handle, ” he says.
    I must look confused because Abbot puts his hands to his temples and inhales deeply. Moving his arms to the table, he says, “ We are just like everyone else in Chelon. We each have different abilities that others may not have. My Banded partner, Serees, has had her hands inside someone ’ s chest cavity, pumping their heart with her fingers to keep them alive long enough to have an artificial valve installed. Crisum, another member of our Play Group, passes out cold when anyone so much as stubs a toe. That is why Serees is a Healer and Crisum is not. They have different talents.
    “ It ’ s the same with us on the hall. Some of us have extraordinary talent with certain nerve groups. Some people can throw a magus that no one else has even heard of before. Others are not able to pull out the slightest breeze from that same nerve group. ”
    “ Like fixing things for you and Zink, ” I say. “ That ’ s what Journer meant when she said it was his specialty. ”
    “ Exactly, ” Abbot nods. “ Now, here ’ s where you come in. No one who has ever walked this hall has done what you did this morning. ”
    “ Smashed a target to bits? ” I ask.
    “ No. Thrown a magus on the second day. Not only did you throw, you annihilated. That kind of destruction should not have been possible without months of practice and education. ”
    “ So my talent is annihilation? ” The direction of this conversation is not helping my sense of self worth.
    “ No. Your talent is overachieving. ”
    “ Overachiever isn ’ t a word anyone would use to describe me. ”
    “ Arrogant, disobedient, flagrant, willful, impulsive. What about any of those? ” Abbot shoots at me. “ Shut up and pay attention to what I ’ m telling you. ”
    My face is hot with embarrassment. All of those words and more have probably been used to describe me and it bothers me that he knows that.
    “ When was the last time you remember being hurt, Keres? ” Abbot asks me.
    “ I ’ ve been to the Healers ’ Building a score of times. ”
    “ That ’ s not what I asked. When was the last time you were hurt, broke a bone, had a cut or bruise that lasted more than a day? ”
    “ I fell down two flights of stairs once. ”
    “ And you lived. Not only lived, but walked away. No broken bones and no bruises the next day. ”
    “ How do you know that? ”
    “ You have been marked since birth, so naturally we have all watched you, protected you. You are our responsibility. ”
    “ Then why did you let The Mothers waste two years of my life in Solace? ” I ’ m crying. No wonder everyone thinks I ’ m weak and unhinged.
    “ Because it was better to put you under the Heavy than let you bring the entire city of Chelon to its knees. ”
    “ You put me under the Heavy? ” I ’ m screaming at the top of my lungs again. It was manufactured, it wasn ’ t a lack of self will, it wasn ’ t depression. It was thrust on me purposefully by Abbot. It ’ s as if all the emotions I should have gone through over the last two years are fireballing out of control. Fluctuating between despair and elation over the last 48 hours has taken a toll on what little self-control I possess.
    “ Yes, ” Abbot says simply.
    I begin to throw things indiscriminately. Books, desk accessories, decorations from the shelves, gym equipment, whatever I can lay my hands on. My eyes are blazing and I ’ m choking on screams. Each object my hands come in contact with becomes one of The Mothers, one of the five, Abbot for sending the smoke black fingers of the Heavy