The Royal Sorceress by Christopher Nuttall

more practiced you become at using the talent, the more you will be able to do with it. An experienced Mover can unpick a lock, or even fly through the air. A really capable Mover will be able to manipulate objects without maintaining eye contact.”
    He shrugged, impatiently. “It obviously takes more energy to move heavier objects,” he said. “Movers deplete themselves quite rapidly; if you happen to be flying, get down on the ground the moment you feel yourself tiring. You will run out of energy quicker than you will believe possible and then you will fall. A number of Movers have died through hitting the ground at great speed.”
    Gwen frowned, but nodded. A moment later, she felt an uncomfortable itching under her buttocks. The feeling spread rapidly until she found herself being picked up by an unseen force and lifted into the air. She could feel the magic tingling all around her, but it didn’t seem to be part of her. The whole feeling was vaguely uncomfortable, even unpleasant. Cannock didn’t seem to notice her distaste, but she knew it could be an act. She resolved not to show any signs of distress.
    “A skilled Mover can talk as well as holding something in the air,” Cannock said. Gwen felt the magic shifting and she found herself gliding over towards the rear of the room. It struck her suddenly that all he had to do was alter her poise a little and he would be able to see right up her skirt. She blushed furiously and then giggled, despite herself. Cannock gave her a puzzled look and started to lower her to the floor. “The more complex the manipulation, the more concentration it requires to actually carry it out without losing control.”
    Gwen felt the hard stone floor under her legs. The force holding her upright vanished abruptly and she had to catch hold of one of the tables to prevent her from falling over backwards. She saw a trace of amusement in Cannock’s eyes and silently vowed revenge at the earliest possible moment. He’d probably enjoyed watching her float under his control. She walked back to the table she’d been seated at and sat down, daring him to try to pick her up again.
    “Movers, once they have mastered basic manipulation, practice in the hall by playing Mover Ball,” Cannock continued. He was definitely smirking now. “Mover Ball is not unlike the games played by children on the streets, but the balls are thrown though the air by magic, rather than a person’s hands. To be hit by a ball, or to be caught touching it with one’s bare hands, is grounds for instant banishment from the game.”
    Gwen smiled. “And the objective is to be the last person on the field?”
    “Quite,” Cannock said. “People without the right talent can still play by hurling balls at the talented. They are forced to catch them or deflect them with their magic, or risk losing and being mocked by their peers.”
    He reached out one hand and held it over the bowl of water. There was a shimmer of magic and a ball of water floated out of the bowl and hovered in the air. “And there is another trick we play all the time,” Cannock added. “We throw water at each other.”
    Before Gwen could react, the ball of water flew right at her face. She held up her hands like lightning and the ball of water seemed to explode, drops of water flying everywhere. Enough touched her face and clothes to convince her that it was freezing cold – and that she would have to get some more practical clothes. Cannock looked surprised that she’d even managed to block it – he’d wanted to drench her, she realised – but recovered quickly. Absently, she wondered how long he’d taken to master his single talent.
    “Not too bad,” Cannock said. “Do you know what you did?”
    Gwen shook her head. “You hit my ball with a blast of pure motion,” he said. “You weren’t particularly subtle – later, you will learn to catch the water and throw it back at me – but you prevented me from hitting you with the water.