"A chance--that is all I am certain of, but yes, I think there is." "Let's try for it, then." "One caution," she said. "Even if you have the potential I think possible from your shield, I have never trained anyone before." "That's all right. I'm willing to take the chance if you are." "Very well. You will have to let down your screen, however, before we can accomplish anything. It would be best if you can drop it willingly, though since you were unaware of its existence, that may not be possible. If not, perhaps we can weaken it by inducing a relaxed emotional state. I will not attempt to break through with darlas, though I am sure I could, because it would be extremely painful at best, and it would probably damage or destroy your mind. Nor, most certainly, will I do what was done during the struggles to establish the Order." Omnivorous curiosity was part of a Ranger's job description; Medart indulged his. "What was that?" Corina's ears went back in distaste. "The infliction of systematic pain, weakening both the will and the ability to resist." "I wouldn't want that," Medart agreed. "We try the voluntary part first, right? You'll have to tell me how to do it, though; until you said something about it yesterday, I never even considered the possibility of having one. And which is it--shield or screen?" "The terms are used interchangeably, though technically a screen is less powerful than a shield. I will try to be more precise henceforth. Yours is a shield, and I am not sure I can tell you in words how to let it down; you may have to work that out. It can be described as a sort of mental force field, with your mind as generator and field both. You have to relax, deactivate the generator as it were." Medart closed his eyes, leaned back in the chair, and relaxed all his muscles. Corina concentrated on his shield, ready to slip through the smallest opening, watching his face as he tried something totally beyond his experience. A sort of mental force field, Medart thought. He knew how to turn off a standard field; all that took was touching a control. This was a lot more nebulous. He didn't have any switches to throw or dials to turn, he had to deactivate part of himself. Relax, she'd said. What were a couple of those tricks Jasmine had tried to teach him? Deep breathing, he remembered. That was supposed to help, as long as you didn't overdo and hyperventilate. In and hold, then out and hold was the pattern. He began the exercise, doing the best he could to relax--though he couldn't help wondering how he'd know if he succeeded. After what seemed like an hour, he opened his eyes. "How'm I doing?"