“Thank you,” Annabeth said, taking a deep breath before moving to display her sculpture. Only it wasn’t a sculpture. Rather it was a set of three pedestals, each with a different object upon them.
“I realized I couldn’t decide on one piece, so I decided to make three different ones.” She moved to the first pedestal. It was rather simple without much adornment. Upon it sat an uncarved block of clay. Sitting next to the block was a carving knife that had also been carved from clay, but this knife bore no marks. No, instead it looked shiny and new.
“This piece is called Potential. It is how I feel when I approach my pieces. I always look at the unmarked block, envisioning what it would be, what it could be. I let my mind run wild with everything I can possibly think of. In this piece is all my hopes, my dreams. It speaks of untold possibilities, and each step I could take on the journey to completion.”
She took a deep breath and moved to the next piece. Unlike the previous sculpture, the base for this one was all sharp edges. It was a skilled piece but looked mass-produced. It was definitely well made, but in the same way a cup pushed out of an assembly line looked well made. Sitting upon it was another sculpting knife. This one looked like it had definitely been used, and used well, but it still had the feel of a tool someone might buy at a neighborhood sculpting market. Touches of grease clung to it from use, but this was the use that came from working a job, not a labor of love.
My eyes moved from the knife to the sculpture next to it. It was of a swan that looked fairly realistic, but in certain spots, it almost appeared like corners had been cut for speed and efficiency. Worse, it held an artificial feel to it, like the maker had been more concerned with getting it done than what it was actually supposed to be.
“This piece is called Progress. This represents the way I learned. I went to school, and I trained. I found a way to pay my bills doing very nearly what I wanted to do, but at the end of the day, it was still a job. Much like the janitor toils on floors, or the chef labors in the kitchen, I learned by going through the motions. I made a million swans so I could get the tip of the beak right. I made a million more because I had an order for swans, and I needed to eat. This represents both of those things. The necessity for efficiency in a world that cares more for quantity than quality, and the need to do those mindless tasks to get better.”
She smiled then and moved to the last piece. “That brings us to Dreams.”
My mouth fell open as she gestured at the piece. The pedestal of this one looked to be handmade with love. The edges were a bit rough in places, but I could see how each stroke of the knife had served to refine it, and that even though it was very nearly done, there was still more to do, but what’s more, it would be done willingly.
There was a knife for this sculpture too, but this one bore the mark of constant use. The blade was a bit nicked, and the handle was worn away in places, but still, it hadn’t been abused. No, it’d passed through its life with love.
“Oh, wow,” Gabriella hissed next to me, and as I finally looked to the piece upon the pedestal Annabeth had made, I sucked in a breath. Oh wow was right.
The final piece was of me. I stood there, a stupid smile on my face with my sword, Clarent, braced over my shoulder. My other hand was outstretched toward another figure that looked remarkably like the one Damore had sculpted. In this one, the scales were lopsided in the other direction. The skulls drastically outweighed by the phoenix rising from the other scale that, again, looked incredibly similar to Lante’s sculpture.
“In this, our hero, the Builder of Legend seeks to help us to rise above ourselves and be more. He seeks this not through might, but through kindness. He wishes to help everyone, even his enemies, and through his kindness, allows victory to spring up even though it seems hopeless.” Annabeth took a deep breath and turned to face the judges. “That is what I have presented for you.”
22
“You dare mock me?” Damore exclaimed, marching indignantly across the arena and pointing at Annabeth’s sculpture with barely contained rage.
“Whatever do you mean?” Annabeth asked in a sickly sweet voice. “Is there some flaw with my piece?” she turned to look at it and frowned. “I thought it was a pretty good likeness.” She tapped her chin once, twice, three times. “Oh, I know.” She nodded to Mammon across the way. “She is prettier in mine. Is that why you’re upset?”
While Damore’s jaw fell open, and the crowd went into a full-blown snicker attack, I saw steam practically shoot from Mammon’s ears. Rage colored her face as she leapt to her feet and slammed one hand down on the judge’s table. The sound cracked through the air like a gunshot as she turned her eyes upon me.
“Enough,” she snapped, making a thumbs down gesture. “I vote for her elimination. That piece is clearly a copy of the others.”
“Hmm?” Freya said, turning to look at Mammon with one delicate eyebrow arched. “Why do you think that?” She gestured at the piece. “I think it’s really interesting actually because she clearly captured the essence of both her competitors’ styles. That takes a lot of skill. What you call copying, I call a display of expertise.” She folded her arms. “That clearly marks her as a master in my book, which is the whole point of the exercise.”
“I quite like it,” Koshuda added, nodding vigorously. “I don’t feel like it’s a copy either, and even if it was, Damore doesn’t think so, or she’d have said as much.” Koshuda extended a hand toward Damore like she was exhibit A. “She claimed it was a mockery, which by definition, should be allowed.” A smirk crossed the dragonfly lady’s face. “And besides, mockery is certainly an emotion.”
“That is absolutely true,” Freya said, nodding as her eyes slid from Annabeth’s trio of sculptures to Damore’s. Her eyes squinted up as she took in every detail before moving to Lante’s. “Besides, it hardly matters. As much as I hate to say it, Lante, yours is clearly the worse of the three. It pains me because it is also very good, but I think even you can agree with my statement.”
“Yes,” Lante mumbled, eyes downcast. “My phoenix isn’t as good as either of theirs.”
“You are admitting defeat?” Mammon asked, and her tone had gone so low, it was practically a growl. “You shouldn’t do so. You definitely deserve to be in round three.”
“No, I do not,” Lante said, shaking her head. “Standing here now, I know I am not as good as either of my competitors. Truthfully, I never was, and I knew that. I wanted to try though, for myself.” She took a deep breath. “This just makes me want to get better. Like my phoenix, I will rise from this, hone my skills, and be better.”
“I am sorry, Lante, but you have been chopped,” Koshuda added, moving to the girl’s station and placing a card with a red slash on her table. “Though I really enjoyed you being here. Bye bye now.” Koshuda grinned brightly, her dragonfly wings flapping as she hurried the woman out of the area before more could be said.
“Well, that felt sort of awkward,” I said, glancing to Gabriella who was too busy stuffing her face full of popcorn to notice.
“Oh, what?” she asked, turning to look at me with cheeks bulged out like a chipmunk. “Did I miss something?” she shifted the contents of her mouth around and swallowed. “Sorry! I just realized this has layers, and the bottom is best. It’s chocolate with sea salt.” She hugged herself and did a little dance. “It’s so much better than the gruel we get back home.” She rolled her eyes. “We don’t have time to make things taste good. All our food is designed to contain all the calories a person needs and has no room for extras like taste.” She gestured at me with the bag. “But extras matter. It’s why Annabeth won the second round. She just went beyond what the others did, just like in the first round.” She whipped a hand out gesturing at Damore’s sculpture as it was wheeled away. “Damore is better. Much better in terms of skill, but she’s lost her drive, her fire. She is like so many back home.” Gabriella touched her chest. “Annabeth has heart. It is why she will win.”
“Heart doe
sn’t always mean the difference. Sometimes skill is insurmountable,” I said, hoping Gabriella was right. I just wasn’t sure though. Even now, I was inclined to agree, Annabeth’s skill, while incredible, wasn’t on the level of Damore. The difference was subtle but significant. It was in the lines of the sculpture, in the use of technique. Normally, those differences wouldn’t be apparent, and they probably wouldn’t be if I couldn’t see the stats of the sculptures, but they were clearly evident to Freya.
Worse, Mammon was never going to vote against her own person. That meant in order to win, Annabeth had to win the favor of both Freya AND Koshuda. While I thought she might be able to get Koshuda on her side, Freya wouldn’t care. She’d demonstrated that by cutting her own apprentice. Now, she’d look at this objectively, and objectively, I didn’t think Annabeth was better.
“Heart is all that matters.” Gabriella stood then and looked down on me. “It’s why I came to get you, why Annabeth is out there fighting. It’s what will defeat the Darkness. I’ve told you that Heaven is united, that we’re fighting hard, but Dred is beating us while you’re driving back the Darkness. That is no different from what is happening here. Damore might be better, but she’s just going through the motions. Annabeth, well, she’s fighting for something, and that will come through in her work.”
“I really hope you’re right,” I said, turning my gaze back to the arena as they completed the setup for the third and final round.
“You know, for a smart person, you’re really dumb.” Gabriella patted my head. “It’s okay though. I love you anyway.” I could only stare at her in astonishment as she flopped back down in her seat and reached for another handful of popcorn. “You’ll see.”
Koshuda smashed her hand against the gong before I could reply. “For this round, both sculptors will fashion something of their own creation. It is the final round. Choose wisely, sculptors, for often in the round victory is attained before the knife has even been picked up. Know your audience, know your judges, but most of all, know yourself.” She smashed the gong once more. “Begin.”
Once again, Damore produced a chunk of red rock. She smacked it down on the table in front of her with a resolute clang, and I wondered if perhaps, it was her material of choice. Then again, she might be doing it just to show she could work with a difficult material. Only, she’d already shown that and doing so was unlikely to astound the judges a second time.
Or would it? Freya was all about skill and working with such a difficult material would no doubt influence her. Sure, she’d done it before, but Freya was all about objectivity, and after all, Damore only needed to get one more vote in addition to Mammon. Demonstrating her superior skill to Freya would no doubt do so.
Doubt began to swim in me once more. As much as I believed in Annabeth and in what Gabriella had told me, I was worried. What’s more, there was nothing I could do to help. Annabeth had to do this on her own, and while I had no doubt she’d try, I wasn’t sure I could sit here when so much was on the line.
Swallowing hard, I turned my gaze to Annabeth and found her standing there. She’d not so much as moved from her spot, not even put material on her table.
“What is she doing?” I squealed, turning to Gabriella who gave me a shrug.
“Not sure, but I sense power building within her. Don’t you?” Gabriella asked, gesturing at the horizon. “Even the skies feel it.”
I turned my head toward the sky. Sure enough, through the skylight in the ceiling of the circus tent, I could see lightning crackling. The air hummed with electricity I could feel in the pit of my stomach. As I watched the clouds thunder and boom, I couldn’t believe it. How had Annabeth called this much power?
Rain began to fall, and as it did, Annabeth moved. Her empty hands lashed out like a dancer, catching the rain as it felt toward her and forming it into a translucent arc of water. She whipped around, stretching and pulling at it like taffy, and as my mouth fell open in astonishment, I heard a gasp rise from the judge’s table.
“Is she really doing it?” Koshuda asked, her eyes huge as she took a step forward, completely entranced. “Can she really be attempting to use Water Sculpting?”
“It would seem so,” Freya replied, getting to her feet and leaning closer for a better look. “See how her hands move, how she catches the raindrops as they fall all the while keeping her existing ribbon of water from collapsing upon itself.” She took a deep breath. “I haven’t seen it in years.”
“She’s just cheating,” Mammon snapped, pointing defiantly at the horizon. “By calling rain, she’s making it more difficult to work with the red rock.”
“No one can control the weather, Mammon,” Koshuda said flippantly.
Freya shrugged. “Perhaps you are right, Mammon, but even still, this is a test of skill. If Damore wishes to win, she can switch mediums or continue with hers to prove she’s better.” Freya’s lips curled into a smile. “Honestly, I hope she continues. I would love to see Damore reach to her apex. I think by doing so, maybe she will get better. Her skill has stalled for too long with no rival. Perhaps this will reinvigorate her.” Freya looked to Damore. “Notice how she is smiling, Mammon. She has not smiled in at least a century, and for that, I am grateful beyond words.”
It was true. Damore was smiling. Her face was fixed in concentration as her hands moved. Her knife whipped out, and as it cut into the red rock, I realized that what Mammon had said was true. All her cuts were slipping off the slick surface of the rock, requiring her to be more precise with her motions. Each cut had to be exact, or it would slide off the rock, or worse, cause it to chip.
Only, as I watched her work, I realized Gabriella was right. Damore had lived without equal for so long, she’d stopped trying, stopped giving it her all. It was obvious from the way she approached her piece. As the rain fell, I saw hesitation, consideration, and a million other factors that hadn’t existed in the two other rounds. No, Damore had whipped through them, confident she’d win based on skill alone.
This time, Damore would give it her all.
23
“Finished,” Damore cried, and her voice was loud over the raging tempest engulfing half the arena, blocking Annabeth from view. I’d try to see through the whirling winds, but I couldn’t. I was guessing no one else could either, but since most people’s attention was fixed on Damore, it hardly mattered.
The sculptor was amazing, and as I looked at her sculpture, I wasn’t sure how Annabeth could win because the mouse she’d sculpted was alive.
As Damore dropped her sculpting knife to the table and stepped backward, the subject on her table moved its head and regarded her curiously. I meant that literally. The sculpture moved its fucking head, and all my hopes and dreams of winning shattered. How could Annabeth possibly defeat a sculptor who had literally crafted life from clay?
The mouse’s nose twitched, whiskers flicking as it sat up on its haunches, paws clasped in front of it. The slick red stone making up its fur bristled in the wind as its eyes darted around. Then, fearing the wind, it moved closer to Damore before leaping onto her outstretched palm. The tiny creature scampered up her arm before nestling into her neck.
“So you finally mastered it, Damore,” Freya said, and her eyes were bright with honored. “You have truly sculpted something so realistic, it has come to life.” She took a deep breath. “Perhaps I should give this seat to you.”
“I’ve long told you I don’t wish your seat. Politics bores me, Freya,” Damore replied moving toward the judge’s station and extending her arm. The mouse took a quick look around, glancing furtively in either direction. Then it bounded off her shoulder and ran down her arm. It paused on her palm for a second, muscles tensing as it readied to spring. As the tiny creature leapt through the air, the thunder above crackled and boomed. More rain began to fall, and something about it must have scared the creature because it shrieked.
The squeak touched my heart as it hit the table and looked around, desperate for somewhere to hide. Its e
yes were wide as it whirled in a circle.
“Come here, friend,” Freya said, extending her own hand toward the creature. The mouse saw her and bared its jaws, backing up on its haunches. “Shh, I won’t hurt you.”
“You made a mouse?” Mammon asked as Freya continued to try to coax the creature forward. “Why not something else?” She shook her head. “A dragon would have been cooler.”
“That’s not just any mouse,” Koshuda said, and as she spoke, I realized she’d been quiet this whole time. “That’s Fina!” she reached out toward the creature, snatching him up by the scruff of his fur. The mouse went limp in her hands as she cradled it to her face. “Oh, how I’ve missed you, Fina.”
“Fina?” Mammon mouthed, confused, but Freya merely smirked.
“Clever,” Freya said, meeting Damore’s eyes. “I’m surprised you remembered her pet from your days at the academy.”
“How could I forget it? Always running in the wheel at night when I was trying to sleep.” Damore shook her head.
It was in that moment I realized what Damore had done. I wasn’t sure if she’d long been able to bring her sculptures to life, but the subject she’d chosen had been one close to Koshuda’s heart. By bringing back her childhood pet, she had definitely swayed the judge to her side. Freya, well, her admiration was clear. Obviously, she thought Damore’s skill was unparalleled, and that was with a raging storm next to us. I didn’t know what Annabeth was cooking up, but I found it hard to believe she’d beat Damore’s sculpture.
“I really hope whatever Annabeth is cooking in there is really awesome.” I took a deep breath as I pointed at the mouse cradled in Koshuda’s hands. “’Cause that mouse just stole our cheese.”
“Done,” Annabeth said, and her words parted the storm. The winds died, and the rain stopped falling. As the debris stirred by the torrent cleared, it revealed her standing there next to a sculpture the size of a small bus.
The Builder's Greed (The Legendary Builder Book 2) Page 14