by Amy Raby
“Loose.”
She let her fifth arrow fly. Another hit, another flare. Nobody could beat her now, nobody! She was not going to miss with her final arrow. And even if Justien—who had another hit in this round—managed to split the wand with his final arrow, he still wouldn’t beat her. Not unless she missed entirely.
“Loose.”
She aimed carefully and sent her sixth and final arrow toward its target.
A hit! It was on the edge of the butt, but at this distance, that didn’t matter. Any hit counted. She glanced at Justien’s target. He had a hit too, but it wasn’t enough. She had six, including a wand split, compared to his five. She had won the tournament.
She thought she’d feel exuberant when this moment came, so full of energy and excitement that she could barely contain herself. Instead she was just relieved. It was said that the Vagabond smiled on those who risked everything they had in pursuit of a goal. Nalica had spent her last tetrals traveling to Riat, renting an overpriced room, and paying the entry fee for this tournament. She’d known she would have few options available to her if she lost. And the Vagabond had smiled: she’d won the city guard job, and her struggles were over.
Her whole body buzzed with nervous energy. Slinging her bow onto her shoulder, she paced, walking it off. She caught Justien eyeing her, looking none too pleased at having been beaten. She felt a little bad for him, but not much. He’d performed well, but she had outshot him fairly, and in this tournament there could be only one winner.
She only wished they could be together somehow, that she didn’t have to say goodbye to him tonight.
He slung his bow over his shoulder and came to her, extending his arm. “Congratulations.” His tone was a little grudging, but when she took his wrist, he clasped it warmly. “You’ll make a wonderful addition to the guard.”
“I’m sorry it cannot be both of us,” she said.
He was the only competitor to acknowledge her victory. Caellus stared daggers in her direction, while the others simply averted their eyes.
The crowd was roaring. She’d apparently managed to tune that out until now. She turned and grinned at their obvious appreciation.
Captain Felix rose from his chair in the judges’ stand and walked to the edge of the rail. He held out his arms, asking for silence, and the crowd quieted. “Citizens of Kjall, we have seen a fine exhibition over these three days of the Triferian. The Soldier himself should be pleased.” He paused for a smattering of applause. “As you know, we have a special prize for the winner of this year’s tournament: he—or she—will become a prefect in the Riat City Guard.” More applause. “And now, citizens, the moment has come. I announce this year’s winner, and the newest member of the guard. Please express your fondest appreciation for Justien Polini!”
Nalica blinked. Had she heard wrong? The crowd did not applaud, but lapsed into confused muttering.
Justien glanced at her, his eyebrows raised in bewilderment.
“Justien, if you’ll come up to the judges’ platform...” prompted Captain Felix.
As she began to comprehend what was happening, shock and horror stole over her. This wasn’t a mistake. She’d been deliberately passed over. She’d won the tournament, but Captain Felix and the others didn’t want her in the city guard. They wanted a man.
Justien glanced at her again as if desperate for help. Nalica just looked at him blankly. She had no idea what he should do.
In a halting voice, Justien spoke from the field, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “Sir, I think you may have made a mistake. Nalica Kelden outshot me.”
Captain Felix’s smile faded around the edges. “The winner is chosen at the judges’ discretion.”
Justien glanced back at her one more time, looking lost. She could see it in his eyes: he understood now. He knew that the judges had cheated her out of this win, and he was the lucky beneficiary of that cheating. He hadn’t asked for this to happen, but now he would get the job and she wouldn’t. She glared at him, hating him for that, even as she knew it wasn’t his fault.
Behind her, the crowd began to boo. They didn’t like this turn of events either. She felt hot all over, knowing that her humiliation was being witnessed by so many people. She’d entered the tournament in good faith, believing she had as good a chance as anyone to win the prize. But she’d never had a chance at all.
She glanced up at the emperor and empress. Even they were witnessing this.
The empress was half out of her seat, with outrage written all over her face. A wild hope rose in Nalica as she watched. Might the empress overrule the judges’ decision? Then the emperor rose and took his wife’s arm. He spoke to her soothingly. The empress answered him—it looked like they were arguing—but in the end she took her seat. She looked displeased, but it was clear she wasn’t going to interfere.
Nalica felt as if every eye in the crowd mocked her.
Justien turned to her and hissed, “I don’t know what to do.”
“Claim your prize,” she said dully. “It’s what you came for.”
“I didn’t want it to be like this.”
“It’s the judges’ discretion. They don’t want me.” He might as well go up there and claim the job. Nothing would induce Captain Felix to hire her. She could have split the wand with every arrow, and it would have made no difference.
Oh gods, she’d agreed to congratulate him if he won. She held out her arm. “Congratulations.”
He eyed her wrist without taking it. “I didn’t win.”
“Captain Felix says you did.”
Captain Felix called out, “Justien Polini, come up and claim your prize.”
After a last, frantic look in her direction, Justien walked to the judges’ platform and ascended the stairs.
Nalica couldn’t stand to watch any more of this farce. She unstrung her bow, leaned it on her shoulder, and walked away.
***
Justien’s mind whirled. He had no idea what to do. His feelings were a nauseating mishmash of excitement, confusion, and horror at this unexpected turn of events. Nalica had beaten him. Every competitor on the field knew it, as did every member of the audience. Gods above, even the emperor and the empress knew! He’d fully expected Nalica’s name to be called, but when Captain Felix had called his instead, his mind had been upended, and now his thoughts and feelings were a shambles.
Everyone’s eyes were on him, and the crowd was booing—which stung, frankly—and Captain Felix was calling him up onto the judges’ platform to accept a prize that everybody knew he hadn’t won. Could it be that he was wrong and the judges were right? In this tournament they weren’t scoring in the standard way; instead, they’d left the determination of the winner to “judges’ discretion.” Maybe the judges had seen something in him that they hadn’t seen in Nalica. They were choosing somebody to be a member of the city guard. Maybe they weren’t interested just in accuracy, but in other factors.
Gods above, who was he kidding? The judges might have picked him because of “other factors,” but he knew as well as anyone that the “other factors” were that Nalica was a woman and he was a man.
It shamed him to climb the steps, since it made him complicit in their crime. But what else was he to do? The audience’s reaction, as he ascended, was a mixture of scattered applause and boos. His back stiffened. He wasn’t a terrible shooter; not by any means. He’d shot second-best in the tournament, and his score had not been much lower than Nalica’s.
Still, they knew. He had not won.
He glanced shame-facedly at the emperor and empress less than ten feet away. Their faces were bland and unreadable. He supposed they didn’t think much of his “win” either. But they didn’t seem inclined to interfere.
If he could muster the courage to walk all the way to Captain Felix, the job would be his.
He swallowed and forced himself to make those final steps. Captain Felix offered his wrist, and Justien clasped it. There were a few cheers from the audience. Also mor
e boos. He looked down at the field of his competitors, searching for Nalica, but he couldn’t find her. His heart ached. It was an awful thing Captain Felix had done to her, denying her the prize she had won fairly and with panache. He couldn’t blame her if she couldn’t stand to see it awarded to someone else.
Captain Felix spoke. “Welcome to the Riat City Guard, Justien Polini.”
It ought to have been his moment of triumph, but he felt only the sting of shame. Amidst the confusion and the noises and the tumult of his emotions, he understood that he could not do this.
“Thank you, Captain,” he said. The crowd quieted, and Justien’s stomach roiled as he saw that every eye was on him. “Much as I would love to join the city guard, I cannot accept.” There was a murmur from the crowd in response. In a shaking voice, he continued. “Nalica Kelden outshot me tonight. I didn’t earn this win, and as an honest competitor, I must decline.” He turned to the imperial couple to acknowledge them. “Your Imperial Majesties, thank you for this opportunity to compete.”
Captain Felix looked stunned.
Justien glanced at the restless crowd. He couldn’t stay here under all this scrutiny. He’d said his piece. If the judges were decent men, they would now reconsider their choice and give the prize to Nalica. He extricated his wrist from Captain Felix’s grasp and descended from the platform back to the archery field.
Captain Felix addressed the crowd. “Since our winner declines the prize, the judges will confer and select a new winner.”
The other archers brightened at this news, especially Caellus, since he’d shot better than most. The crowd continued to murmur as the three judges moved back from the stage and into a huddle. Justien remained on the field, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Where had Nalica gone? He hoped that if the judges did the right thing and gave her the prize, she could be found quickly.
The judges then separated, having finished their conference.
Captain Felix approached the railing to address the crowd once again. “Citizens, I would like to announce this year’s winner of the archery competition and the newest member of the Riat City Guard: Caellus Atilian. Caellus, please ascend the stage to accept your prize.”
Caellus yelped with joy and ran up the stairs. Justien watched with a sinking heart as Caellus and Felix clasped wrists. There was nothing more he could do. He’d given the judges a second opportunity to do the right thing, and they would not do it. They would never do it. Feeling as wrung-out as an old towel, he walked away.
***
Justien usually didn’t worry about walking around the city of Riat at night. The imperial city was well policed and well lit. It didn’t have a serious crime problem, and anyway he was a war mage. A common thug who tried to make a target of him would regret his foolishness. And yet Justien could not shake the feeling that he was being followed.
Footsteps echoed his own. He knew better than to stop short and make it obvious that he heard the other man, but when he slowed down, he could tell that the person following him took a moment to catch on before matching his speed. He sped up a little, and after a brief delay, the footsteps matched his speed once more.
Why would someone follow him? When Nalica had spotted that man in the brown syrtos who’d appeared to be following them at the festival, he hadn’t taken the situation seriously. He was a war mage; it was impossible for an enemy to take him by surprise. But now he worried. Whoever was following him probably knew what he was. After all, he’d just come from the archery tournament. If this person knew what he was and was tracking him anyway, he might have the resources, or the numbers, to deal with Justien’s abilities.
Justien kept to the main streets, avoiding alleyways. Even at night, it should be hard for someone to attack him in a public space. None of the moons were up yet, but light glows mounted on posts kept the streets reasonably bright. He moved from one circle of light to another, listening. Up ahead, patrons from a crowded all-night tavern spilled out into the street, singing and talking. He couldn’t let his tail follow him all the way to Nalica’s inn; that would put her in danger. He had to put an end to this, the sooner the better.
He stopped and turned on his heel. “Who’s there?” he called. “I hear you following me.” He scanned the streets, each darkened storefront, each alleyway. He could see no one.
A breeze from the harbor tickled his arms. He heard nothing. No footsteps, no anything. “What do you want?” he called again.
Several of the tavern-goers stopped to watch.
He turned and continued walking. This time he heard no footsteps at all.
By the time he’d reached the Crooked Billet, he felt certain he’d lost his tail. He wasn’t sure that was the outcome he’d wanted, exactly. He’d have preferred a confrontation—preferably a nonviolent one—so that he knew who his follower was and what he wanted. The mystery remained unsolved.
He walked inside. His first thought was that the Crooked Billet wasn’t good enough for Nalica. It was a dump. A few low tables housed some old men who nursed their ales without enthusiasm. The place looked clean enough, but it was dark and smelled of old, rotting wood.
The innkeeper approached him. “We’re full tonight.”
“I’m looking for a woman named Nalica,” said Justien.
“Unless she’s here in the common room, I can’t help you.”
Justien took a handful of quintetrals from his pocket and pressed them into the man’s hand. “Perhaps this will change your mind.”
The innkeeper slid the coins into his pocket. “Second floor, third door on the right.”
Justien thanked him and ascended the stairs.
***
When the knock came at Nalica’s door, she was annoyed. Her room at the Crooked Billet had offered her the first bit of privacy she’d had all day, and a safe place to let the tears flow after that disaster of an archery tournament. Now she was done with her foolish weeping, but the last thing she wanted was to talk with somebody. She was sick of the world and everyone in it.
She dragged herself off the straw tick, crossed the tiny room in a couple of steps, and opened the door.
Justien stood before her.
She blinked. What was he doing here? Maybe he’d come to gloat about his “victory,” or else to renew his offer of supporting her on his city guard’s salary. Either way, she wasn’t interested. She started to close the door in his face.
He stuck his foot into the gap and stepped forward, pushing his way into the room. “Just give me a moment. I want to talk.”
“What can you have to say? I know what happened. You won the ‘tournament,’” she said, making no attempt to soften the contempt in her voice. “Go to your new friends, those crooked jack-scalders in the city guard. You’ve no business here.”
He flinched as if she’d hurled arrows at him instead of words, and she noticed for the first time that he wasn’t smiling and his eyes were dull and joyless. It appeared his “win” had not made him happy. Well, it shouldn’t. He hadn’t earned it.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” he said.
Did she still have tear tracks on her face? She hoped not. “Sorry doesn’t help. You’ve said your piece; now go. Big day tomorrow, starting the new job.” She walked away from the door, hoping that would encourage him to leave.
“I didn’t take the job,” said Justien.
She turned, raising her eyes to his face. “Why not?”
“I hadn’t earned it,” he said. “I won’t take what I haven’t earned.”
Fresh tears pricked the sides of her eyes. He hadn’t taken the job? Her anger fled; this changed everything. But somebody had to take the job, and if it wasn’t Justien...well, it clearly wasn’t going to be her either. Unless the judges had changed their minds, and Justien had been sent to fetch her back? Could that be possible? “What happened when you turned it down?”
“They gave it to Caellus.”
Her hope snuffed out like a candle flame. She sighed. “If they were loo
king for mediocrity, they got it.”
“Mediocrity is what they deserve. You’re too good for that job. So am I, frankly.”
“I’m not too good for their tetrals.”
“I know.” Justien looked around her tiny room. “May I sit?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Do as you please, but there are no chairs.”
“How about on the bed?”
“All right. If you call that a bed.” It was only a straw-stuffed tick laid on a wooden frame, but she at least knew after sleeping in it for three nights that it was free of lice.
He sat on the tick.
She paced about the small room, wishing she hadn’t snapped at him earlier. She should not have doubted him. Deep down, she knew Justien was a good man. But she hadn’t expected even a man as good as Justien to make such a sacrifice on her account. “Tell me everything. What happened after I left?”
“I wish I hadn’t even gone up on the platform,” he said. “I’d expected Felix to announce your name. I was preparing myself to applaud for you, even though I was jealous and angry with myself for missing the butt with that third arrow. And when he said my name instead, I was confused. I wondered if maybe I could have misunderstood the scoring. In the end, I went up there because he told me to and everyone was watching.”
“I wasn’t confused when it happened,” she said, lowering her gaze. “Just humiliated.”
“You’ve perhaps more experience with this sort of thing than I have,” said Justien. “I know there’s a certain antipathy toward women warriors, but I didn’t think the judges would dare to be so blatant. Hundreds of people saw you outshoot me. Gods above, the emperor and empress saw it! And then I was called up on the platform to be supposedly honored—the crowd was booing, by the way.”
“I heard them,” said Nalica. “Much good it did.”