by Andrew Rowe
I took a moment to draw a crude map of the rooms I’d explored in the tower. Just boxes with a word in each to show what they represented. I’d write more about them later if I could, but I didn’t think the map would help me much for a couple reasons.
First, the tower was always changing. Even if I walked in the same door it was likely I’d end up in a completely different place. The connections between rooms would change, too.
Second, and more importantly, I couldn’t go back in through the same gate. The Gate of Judgment could be used precisely once per person. Next time I entered the tower, I’d have to use one of the other, far more dangerous entrances. The ones designed for climbers who were intent on reaching the top of the tower.
If I wanted to survive going into the deadlier parts of the tower, I’d need to learn how to master my attunement. Even Vera, who had an attunement that wasn’t built for combat, had proven that she was vastly more capable than I was. I couldn’t have possibly survived that spire guardian room without her — and that was just a single room on the first floor.
Now that I’d completed my Judgment, my highest priority was to train. To study. To get stronger.
And when I was ready, I’d start climbing to the top to save my brother.
I decided that I’d eventually try to write up my notes on the tower rooms and publish them for future tower entrants. I wanted to do anything I could to try to prevent others from failing their Judgments.
But for the moment, I had more far more pressing concerns.
I’d seen a lot of flashy magic over the years. My father and mother were both expert combatants, and I’d seen both of them absolutely demolish people in structured combat tournaments.
But neither they, nor anyone I’d ever met, had a fraction of the power that Katashi did. Visages could — and had — leveled cities. It was very likely that what I’d seen in his battle with Keras was just a fraction of his power, probably to prevent collateral damage.
If I’d just made him angry, I was in very serious trouble.
I headed toward the celebration tent, but I didn’t feel much like celebrating.
There were two Soaring Wing guards at the entrance to the tent. They gave me cautious looks as I approached.
One of them, a woman with a blue attunement mark glowing softly on her right hand, gave me a hard look. “Where’d you come from?”
I pointed at the exit where I’d emerged.
“Huh. Haven’t seen anyone come out that gate in years.” She narrowed her eyes, and then waved her rune-marked hand over my forehead. Looking at her partner, she said, “It’s real. He’s attuned.”
The other guard nodded, turned toward me and gave me a friendly slap on the shoulder. I winced — I wasn’t much for physical contact — but I tried to give him as pleasant of a smile as I could manage.
“Congratulations, kid. You should go get yourself a drink! If your test was anything like mine, you probably need one. And don’t let anyone hassle you about your attunement.”
What’s that supposed to mean?
It occurred to me that I hadn’t actually checked which attunement I’d picked up. I didn’t exactly have a mirror.
“Uh, thanks.” I turned my head from one guard to the other. “Can I go in?”
“Oh, ‘course you can. Gotta make sure you fill out your papers before you leave, too. That’s in the back.” The woman gestured toward the back of the tent, where I could see some tables stacked with paperwork. Bored looking adults were manning the tables, giving instructions to the teens my own age sitting or standing nearby.
In the middle of the tent, though, people were celebrating. Newly-attuned teenagers were dancing, carousing, and some looked to be having their first taste of alcohol.
I stepped in, looking around.
“Congratulations! Need a drink?” An older teenager holding a tray of wine glasses lifted it in my direction, but I shook my head.
“Not much of a drinker.” Belatedly, I added, “But thanks.”
The teenager nodded. “Suit yourself!”
I continued to make my way in, bypassing the celebrants and heading to the back tables. Some of the adults turned toward me. One of them pointed, and another stood and approached me.
She was a heavy-set woman, maybe in her thirties or forties, beaming a bright grin at me. I did my best to smile in return, but my best probably wasn’t very good.
“Hello, and congratulations! I see you just finished your attunement. You’re welcome to join the celebrants for a bit before you sign your papers, if you’d like.”
I shook my head. “Thank you, but I’d rather get this over with.”
Her smile diminished by a fraction, but she maintained a cheerful tone. “Of course, of course. I’m Professor Edlyn. From the look of that mark, I’ll probably be seeing you in my classes in a few weeks.”
I absently brushed my fingers against my forehead. “Oh, uh, great. I’m Corin Cadence. I haven’t actually seen my attunement yet.”
I took a glance at her own attunement — the one she had visible, anyway. I did notice she was wearing a glove on her right hand, and of course her clothing could have covered other marks as well.
It was a Shaper mark, like my father’s, but less complex. I’d seen several variations on each attunement mark, but they always had a core symbol at the center that looked the same. I didn’t know enough about how attunements worked to understand the variations yet.
She raised an eyebrow. “Cadence? As in House Cadence?”
I nodded silently.
“Oh dear. I — well, you should come have a seat, and we’ll get you sorted out.”
That wasn’t a good sign.
I followed her to a seat at one of the nearby tables, trying to ignore the looks that followed me from both newly-attuned and adults.
The professor slid a group of papers in front of me, but I didn’t look at them immediately. “What’s this all about?”
Professor Edlyn gestured at the papers. “Your enrollment paperwork for the Lorian Heights Academy of Arcane Arts. As you’re probably aware, all newly attuned are required by law to serve two years at the academy.”
I nodded. “Followed by two years of military service.”
“Largely correct, although those subsequent two years can also be spent in other approved government roles, such as tower expeditions. Only Lorian Heights can provide you with the education you will need to properly utilize your attunement.”
Of course, because it’s the only option available to me.
Every kingdom treated attuned differently. In Caelford, they had only a single year of mandatory university training, after which students were generally given apprenticeships. Their focus was on attunement-augmented manufacturing, developing both advanced military technology and everyday conveniences that were improved by attunements.
In the Edrian Empire, attuned were sent straight to the military, where they served for a minimum of six years. From my understanding, that duration was often extended, either at the behest of the attuned or by the will of the empire.
In Dalenos, attuned were sent to serve the church. Of course, the Dalen military also served the church — Dalenos was a theocracy — so many attuned still ended up with military-style training.
Valia had the best deal, as far as I was concerned. I only needed to sign away four years of my life, not all of them.
Of course, the nature of the attunement was also relevant, and I still didn’t know mine.
“Can I ask which attunement I have?” I made a little gesture, pointing at the mark on my forehead.
“Of course, dear. You have the Enchanter Attunement.”
I winced. If she noticed, she didn’t give any sign, she just continued talking.
“The Enchanter Attunement will allow you to create magical items and manipulate existing items. It’s very valuable for the development of new technology and providing useful tools to other attuned.”
But virtually useless on i
ts own.
It was the diametric opposite of my family’s traditional attunement, the Shaper. One designed for overwhelming personal combat ability.
I spent the following hours nodding absently to the professor’s instructions while I signed away four years of my life, knowing that the mark on my forehead might have ruined many more.
***
The hours I spent on the train ride home were a stream of nervousness and self-deprecation. I’d faced several colorful death options earlier in the day, but none of them were as terrifying as what awaited me at the end of the railroad.
Home.
Disembarking at the Hastings Valley Station, I opted to walk the remaining two miles with calculated slowness. I could have hired a carriage, but I hoped that a sufficient delay might allow me to arrive after others had already gone to sleep.
No such luck, of course.
Cadence Manor was a beautiful structure, three stories of pristine white wood and stone surrounded by three layers of gates — a high stone wall, a barrier of hedges, and an inner metallic fence. The innermost and outer gates were etched with runic wards with a broad variety of functions, and the house itself was similarly protected. There were no guards outside, but the house itself could withstand a siege.
At the moment, Cadence Manor’s most remarkable characteristic was the man standing in front of the house’s open doors. Tall, athletic, and dressed in the long white coat with blue markings of House Cadence, he was the perfect image of a nobleman in his prime. His black hair was trimmed fashionably short, showing streaks of silver along the temples. His hands rested comfortably on a long cane that I knew contained a metallic blade.
My father. His gray eyes analyzed, scrutinized, and calculated as I approached. His position in front of the doors was deliberate. Everything he did was deliberate.
People liked to say that Magnus Cadence was the type of man to think five moves ahead of his opponent, tracing a dozen paths of undoing his enemies before they could lift a hand.
People were often wrong.
Magnus Cadence didn’t plan five moves ahead. He didn’t need to.
He would never let an opponent make five moves.
I held my back high, brushing a lock of hair away from my forehead, revealing the glowing mark on the skin.
He’d made his opening move with his position, and now I’d made mine.
We were about twenty feet apart when he acted again.
“So, you failed, then.”
Four simple words that changed the nature of the contest. This was no game of tactics, pushing pieces on a board.
He’d taken a lunge straight for the heart, just as definitively as if he he’d drawn the true steel in his hands.
It was a feint.
I shrugged a shoulder, trying to appear unaffected. “I’d call it more of an incremental victory.” A deflection, not a riposte. If I had attempted a counterstrike, he would have used my momentum against me.
He’d drawn blood with those words, but it was only a graze.
Father waved a hand at my forehead with a nonchalant gesture. “I’d hardly call wearing a coward’s mark any sort of victory, incremental or otherwise.”
A swipe at the knees, an attempt to catch me off balance. “Any mark is power, and I can earn more in time. Moreover, I learned some valuable information about the tower during my visit, which will serve to improve my ability to climb in the future.”
A successful evasion, followed by a press of blades, mine against his own.
Father quirked an eyebrow, giving the slightest bit of ground. “How did you learn anything? Your memories of the Judgment should have faded by now.”
I smiled, taking the opening. “I wrote notes while I was inside the tower, Father. A simple enough exercise, but effective. Moreover, I made contact with an entity tied to the tower itself — a potential information source.”
“I suppose you have some of my blood in you after all, then.” An unexpected concession on his part, giving ground. “Inadequate, unfortunately, to compensate for your failure to earn a combat attunement. You can come inside and meet your replacement.”
There is no fencing term I’m aware of for drawing a pistol and shooting your opponent in the face, but that was what it felt like when I heard his final words.
I’d overextended myself and he’d taken advantage of that, giving me a taste of victory just to crush me with overwhelming force.
He turned his back, striding into the house, leaving the familiar doors wide open.
I followed, trying to avoid fixating on the sense inadequacy he’d awakened in my mind. It was no use. The sense intensified as I saw who waited me inside.
Standing with her hands folded carefully in front of her was Sera Shard, my childhood companion. She stood in the center of the entry chamber, her bright House Cadence uniform illuminated by the gas lamps on the sides of the chamber.
Sera, the daughter of one of my mother’s retainers, had been born a scant handful of days after I had. We had been raised together with the understanding that she would be my personal retainer. Not a servant — Sera was trained to be my bodyguard, my seneschal, and my closest confidant. My childhood was filled with memories of countless hours spent with her and Tristan, days filled with joy.
I’d been raised with numerous stories about the bonds of loyalty between a noble and their retainers. I’d seen them in practice between my mother and Sera’s mother. They were always together, closer than any friends I’d ever known.
When the tower took Tristan from me, my mother took Sera. Mother had taken her entire staff when she left, and of course Sera had left with her own mother.
I was no child now, and seeing my father approach Sera, I processed things I had not as a ten-year-old. A similarity in the grayness of their eyes, a similar wave in her black hair to one in my own.
The distinct absence of a father in her childhood.
I anticipated Father’s next move, but it was irrelevant.
“Corin, I take it you remember the young Miss Shard.” He stood to her right side, smiling magnanimously as he gestured toward her. He didn’t wait for me to reply. “Given Tristan’s continued absence, and your failure to secure a combat attunement, I’ve decided to legitimize her. Unlike you, Corin, she’s earned a real attunement. She’s a Summoner.”
A Summoner? That’s impressive. They’re rare... and extremely effective.
I did the only thing I could, since replying directly to him would only invite more attacks. I closed the door behind me, approached to an acceptable distance, and bowed at the waist toward Sera. “Congratulations on earning a Summoner Attunement, Sera. It’s good to see you. It’s been too long.”
She didn’t return the bow. Instead, she smirked and spoke. “Thank you, Corin. Or perhaps ‘brother’ would be a better term, now?” Shining eyes flickered with mischief.
Father turned his gaze toward Sera. “I wouldn’t get ahead of yourself, dear. I’ve legitimized you as a member of House Cadence, but I have not declared myself to be your father. Not yet. That is something you will need to earn.”
If she was daunted by that, she showed no sign. “Of course, Father. I will endeavor to be the very best example of what this house has to offer.”
Goddess, I’d forgotten how good she was at pretentious resh. I couldn’t have come up with something that haughty with a calculated effort.
Father set a hand on the top of her head. “I expect nothing less.” It was a small gesture of affection; just enough to show what he never gave to me.
I stretched, attempting to appear unaffected. “Excellent, maybe we can begin by sharing stories about our experiences in the tower.”
Stories which she presumably wouldn’t have, since normally people had their memories erased. It was a cheap shot.
She turned her head to me, still smiling. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for that at the university. You look exhausted, Corin. You must have had a difficult time of things. Is that a
burn mark on your tunic?”
I shrugged. If she thought that taking a hit implied weakness on my part, I could use that. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a blast from a dueling cane in one of my first battles.”
Father turned, scratching his chin. “Which you fled, I take it?”
I scoffed, which seemed to catch them both off guard. “Uh, no, not a chance. I didn’t run from any monsters.”
Mostly true. I only fled from people. And beings of godlike power.
Okay, and the cat-rabbit thing. So adorable.
Father’s eyes narrowed, showing a bit of legitimate contemplation. Had I given him a hint of doubt? “You fought monsters, and yet you have a non-combat attunement? I find that somewhat difficult to believe.”
Good.
I shrugged the backpack off my shoulders, opening the back and reaching in. I retrieved one of the larger crystals that had been left behind when Vera destroyed the barghensi. It was common knowledge that monsters in the tower left crystals behind when killed; they were a form of stable mana, and could be used in some spells and enchantments. Some people believed that they were the crystallized souls of the monsters.
I tossed the crystal to him, and he caught it deftly.
A slight frown developed as he turned the crystal over in his hands. “Curious.” He raised his head toward me.
I showed him a handful of other crystals. “If you think that’s impressive, you should see the sword.” I tapped the hilt of the weapon at my hip.
Father didn’t take the bait. Instead, he turned to Sera and handed her the crystal. “You’ll need to retrieve something more impressive than this on your next trip in the tower.”
She nodded curtly.
I set my backpack on the ground, folding my arms.
Apparently, I was setting the low, low bar for being considered a child of Magnus Cadence.
Father probably expected me to fight back, to compete, to try to prove myself... and for Sera to have to try harder to measure up to that.
He’d never understood.
His approval had stopped being important to me the moment he’d written his elder son off as dead.