of the last page. “Think of him as a smiling man,” Hedda had said. “The eyes of a wise man, the smile of a lover. Light shines from his face. Call to the light. Beg it. Ask for the wisdom behind it.”
She did, effortlessly holding the image in her thoughts, relaxed, clear-minded, waiting.
Nothing.
She heard Doc sigh. She opened her eyes. He and Alastair stared at her from their chairs outside the conjuration circle; Doc shook his head.
She looked at Hedda, unhappy. “I did it wrong.”
“No, sweet. You did it right. Every step true.” The woman looked apologetic. “What confused Doc confuses me. I could feel your strength when we put the circle together. You have Gift. I wish I had your strength. But it does not come out.”
“You’re having the exact same results someone like Harris or Noriko would,” Doc said. “But unlike them, you’re full of the Gift. Your well of power just seems somehow capped.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He rested his chin on his hand and stared morosely at her. “We’ve learned some things, today and in my tests. We know what you can’t do.”
“Such as?” Her tone was sharp.
“Don’t be annoyed.”
“I just don’t like being told what I can’t do.”
“So I gather. Gaby, your Gift doesn’t follow the traditional patterns. You have no Good Eye; you can’t see the residue of devisements. You don’t see the future. You don’t see events imbedded in the objects that have experienced them. There’s no