focus!"
Kochanski found himself clenching his teeth and flexing his hands, imagining them wrapped around this little monster's throat.
His "help" from Jartan had turned out to be a precocious seventeen-year-old know-it-all: all boundless energy, enthusiasm, and contempt for the failings of mere adults.
Sara brushed her blond hair back from her face as she straightened up from examining the model of the Empire State Building .
"This is useless. I suggest you think of another artifact, or let me deeper into your mind so that I can help more. Why you insist on keeping those barriers up... it's just silly."
Kochanski's temper snapped.
"Listen, you obnoxious little twit, I don't care if you are Jartan's granddaughter. No one is going to rummage through my mind without my permission!"
Sara raised her eyebrows in an exaggerated gesture and pantomimed sorrow, further infuriating Kochanski.
"Jartan told me that you were still developing your powers, but I had no idea that you would be this backward. And I can't imagine how he can think that I would learn anything from you."
Kochanski struggled to think of a retort that wasn't profane and by doing so lost the exchange, as she continued:
"I guess he wants me to learn patience from working with someone so arrested in development."
She paused, then went on brightly, "Perhaps he wishes me to further my development of empathy for the unfortunate."
Sara shook her head ruefully. "It's harder than I thought, but I guess I can do it. All right, Kochanski, what other images do you want to try?"
Kochanski was fighting for control. Taking a deep breath, he managed a shaky smile, but inside he screamed, " Why me? "
By evening there were over a dozen models scattered about the room. With Sara's help, Kochanski had created copies of the Washington Monument , the Capitol, and Mount Rushmore. He had even tried models of things he had seen while stationed overseas: the Tower of London , Stonehenge, and even the Chinese temple that they had been in when they were teleported to Haven.
He was exhausted, and she was as bright-eyed and enthusiastic as ever.
"You know, the last couple were much better. Why don't we try one more and break for dinner? My classmates are meeting at my house for a game--we compete to see who can create the most interesting creatures. They're not living, of course, but it's such wonderful fun. And I'm sure my friends wouldn't mind having you along."
He managed to croak a "No!" that was barely audible, but utterly final.
"Well, I guess you are a little tired. Poor man, you are pretty old, aren't you?"
"Twenty-three, going on nine hundred at the moment," came the numb reply.
He watched her helplessly. Her bright blue eyes now filled with the superficial, but sincere, compassion of the young.
"I understand. Don't worry, Kochanski, you're improving. And I'm sure with lots of work I can make you into a first class sorcerer someday."
She turned and walked from the room, calling over her shoulder, "I'll be back at first light tomorrow morning, and we'll pick up where we left off!"
Sara smiled contentedly to herself. His talents weren't that bad really, and he certainly was cute in a helpless sort of way. She heard something behind her and thought to herself, There he goes again. I've got to find out what "bitch" means in that odd language of his.
Jartan smiled at Sara, and interrupted her. "Did Kochanski agree to this?"
"Well, no. But that's only because I didn't think of it in time to discuss it with him. Really, Jartan, I think going back to school would do him a world of good. And I happen to know that Deena is having a class on image forming and creativity for the eight-year-olds tomorrow. That's just the thing he needs help in now, and I'll be right there to help him when, uh, if he needs it."
Jartan held up his hand to quiet her for a moment and expanded his mind to pick up Kochanski. He didn't open contact from his end, just listened in on what
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