“Whereas I can feel the wrath all around me,” I tell her. “I can pull from more than my own.”
“It is always easier to incite people to violence and fear—”
“No,” I tell her. “No, it isn’t. I’m not instigating their wrath, I amfocusingit. Peoplewantto be compassionate to each other. That’s where the wrath comes from, don’t you see?”
“People care about themselves first and foremost,” Eraya disagrees. “They have to be taught to care about greater causes. And I do not regret doing that work.”
That the Sage of Compassion believes this about people explains so, so much.
Her attempt to shield herself brightens.
I swipe it away again, and she gasps.
“Your work is hurting them,” I tell her. “You were partially right, before. Weshouldbe on the same side. Wrath and Compassion—they go together.”
I spin out of my kata entirely and walk toward her, the sheer force of my presence preventing more than gold sparks on her side.
“When I release this shield, I want you to use your sage senses and feel where the compassion is coming from, because you’re going to feel that it’s not stronger on Mujin’s side. When you force people to join the side of forcing others, the compassion you can draw on weakens, doesn’t it? Because you are making them close themselves off to what they know is right.
“You areweakeningtheir compassion. You’re weakeningyour own, constraining your power by tying yourself in knots trying to justify their crimes. Weakening compassion isnot what you’re for.”
I reach her, finally.
I want to shake her.
Instead I put my hands on her shoulders.
She goes completely still.
How long, I wonder, since she has been touched?
Wrath can burn in isolation. But for the Sage of Compassion...
That she can do so much when they arestarving herspeaks to what she could be capable of.
I turn my wrath outward instead of inward, easing the pressure on her.
And I wrap her in a hug.
Eraya freezes.
“Right here, right now, you are safe,” I whisper to her. “No one can get to you through me. So please, please, take the opportunity tothink.”
“Idothink,” she says fiercely.
But she doesn’t pull away.
Her arms come around me, too, and I feel her compassion working into me.
And I let it, meeting her eyes so she knows.
Because I have nothing to fear from compassion.
“Then youknowthey put limits on you to keep you safe tothem, but people don’t need to be protected from compassion,” I say. “If the Order is as strong as they say they are, why are they worried about me, just one more sage? Why do they always have minders onyou?”
“We are their strength,” she whispers.
“People’s belief should be their strength. If it weren’t all so flimsy, they wouldn’t need to hold you on a leash. But that leashis breakable, Eraya. In my day it was only used as a temporary measure for sages who were out of control. I can change this, butyouhave to choose it.”
