I could understand that, but it didn't make me feel any better about his ability. Then again, it all depended on who wielded the power. A gun could be used to murder or to protect from murderers. It was all about the person holding it and their intentions.
A furious chattering drew my attention to Moki, who had been watching me intently from his perch on Saphir's chair. Our eyes locked for a brief moment, and he suddenly leaped onto the desk and from there straight onto my lap.
Too stunned to move, I looked at him, waiting to see what he was going to do next.
He just plopped down, curling himself like Chicha often did, and let out a contented sigh that sounded awfully human.
"That's unprecedented," Saphir said.
Without thinking, I began gently stroking Moki's silky fur that felt much softer than any other I'd ever touched.
"He's never done that before," Saphir said, watching us with amusement. "In all the years Moki has been with me, he has never jumped into anyone else's lap. I have to admit that I feel a little jealous."
He'd said it with a smile, so I assumed he wasn't really envious of his pet choosing a new friend.
Had Moki done that because he felt that I was a shaman like Saphir?
"What exactly is he?" I asked, continuing to stroke the amazingly soft fur.
Saphir's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Moki is one of a kind."
I knew that. There was no other creature like him on Aurorys, but I hoped Saphir would tell me more.
Evidently, Moki was one of those secrets that were not to be shared.
As I stroked his head, I felt a gentle, probing sensation at the edges of my consciousness, like a soft knock on a door, asking permission to enter. It wasn't like the dragons' mental voices, which had a certain imperious quality to them. This was gentler, more curious than commanding, and I instinctively knew it was Moki.
"I think he's trying to communicate with me." I shifted my gaze to Saphir. "Can he talk?"
The shaman's eyes shone with excitement. "Well, yes, in his own way. He shows me pictures that convey what he wants to communicate, and I have to interpret them."
"What about his chattering?"
Saphir waved a dismissive hand. "Those are just sounds of excitement." The shaman looked at his companion fondly. "Let him in if you can. He's harmless. Opinionated, incessant, but well-meaning."
I couldn't imagine how someone could communicate all that with just visuals, but I was curious to find out.
Cautiously, I lowered the mental barriers, opening my mind to the gentle presence I felt hovering there, and immediately I was flooded with a cascade of impressions—colors, scents, textures, emotions. It was dizzying, like standing in the center of a kaleidoscope of sensations.
Curiosity. Recognition. Joy.
The emotions weren't mine, but I felt them as if they were, washing through me in warm waves. There was an underlying sense of familiarity, as if Moki somehow knew me, though we'd never interacted before.
"It's the connection," Saphir said, answering my unspoken thought. "Moki and I have our own bond, so I can sense the general nature of his response to you." The shaman smiled. "He's quite taken with you, and he's an excellent judge of character."
The creature in my lap made a purring sound, nuzzling against my hand. I continued to pet him, feeling strangely calm despite the extraordinary situation.
I wished I had a Moki of my own, but as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I felt like I was betraying Chicha and pushed it aside.
Moki must have felt the change in my mood and leaped off my lap and onto the desk, chattering as he leaped again and landed on Saphir's shoulder.
"Go ahead," Saphir said, and I assumed he was talking to Moki.
The cat-monkey reached with his tiny hands and removed the medallion hanging around Saphir's neck with the shaman's active cooperation.
"He wants you to have it," Saphir said.
I lifted my hands in the air. "I can't take it. It's the property of the head shaman."
