I don't share

[moonshadows]

"Anek syhkvyk, alek Yhkvyr!"

Two hands clap together, and I am drawn to the place where my Name is crudely depicted in gold paint on parchment, with a single leaf in the center and a singe drop of blood on it. I resist the summons, studying the one who after a moment, releases it with a sigh and wipes his forehead. He is not a Hidden Voice, nor is he a Secret Eye. He looks frail and scholarly, but well-versed in magic despite his lack of energetic stamina.

"You can come out." He speaks to me, though I have not revealed myself. "I know you're there."

I form behind him, wearing the shape I first took, modeled off of True Voice. "How did you know I was here?" This voice is light, unthreatening.

"Oh, I've had contact with lots of True Runes." He gestures to his left hand, where a frail thread reaches out questingly towards me. "I study them, you see, for my work."

"Your work?" I feign interest with a voice empty of the threat that fills me.

"Oh, yes. I study the True Runes, then use their patterns to fashion lesser Runes, like this one. I combined the patterns of several Runes to make a new Rune, one that taps into the complex network between True Runes. It's not as strong as one of the True, of course, but my lesser Runes can be very useful!"

"Is that why you called me?"

The man nods. "Let me show you around the workshop. It's always so exciting when we encounter a new Rune to study - the students will be excited to see you. I haven't told them which Rune I was calling, you see."

"That ritual isn't widely known. How did you come by it?"

He waves one hand dismissingly. "Oh, my great-uncle or somesuch died, and I wound up with a few moldy old books. I've been poking through them for weeks. I don't trust the students with them."

He opens the door to the study and ushers me out into a bustling workroom. A score of young men and women look up from assorted benches, tables, and desks, then back down to the bits of stone, metal, and glass before them. There are papers, books, and pens all over. My host introduces each one, and their project, briefly in a running stream of meaningless babble.

"...and now that you've met everyone, let's go back to my study. You will let me see what your Rune can do, won't you? I have to be able to study its power before I can replicate it."

"Oh, of course." The door closes behind us. "And you said none of the students know which Rune I hold, or saw the ritual you used?"

Again, the dismissing wave. "This was much too important to let them muck up. Now then, if I could just see...?" He reaches for my left hand, that twisted mismatch of powers pulsing at me.

The explosion rocks the building, but does not break the door or the walls. There are scraps of wood, cloth, and flesh strewn indiscriminately around, and the glass in the windows is shattered. Nothing remains of the book, the parchment, or the pieced-together mockery of a Rune. The silence echoes for a moment in the wake of sound.

"I don't share my power."