Convergence (The Blending Book 1)

by Sharon Green

  So the man wasn't a copperless peasant after all. Clarion now felt a good deal more comfortable, especially since he'd discovered the perfectly logical reason behind his urge toward indulgence.

  "Possibly you didn't think of it because you dislike wasting your time," Clarion answered, remembering his failure with a great deal of distaste. "I, on the other hand, must enjoy it immensely, as I spent much too much time engaged in the useless practice. If there's an answer, it definitely lies elsewhere."

  "There has to be an answer," Ro responded, looking as determined as Clarion felt. "High practitioners are all supposed to be willin' to do the job, so those who are unwillin' have to be let go at some point. That's the point we need, as long as it isn't one that involves dyin'…"

  Clarion almost paused in his undressing, suddenly remembering how close he'd come to dying. Somehow he hadn't really believed in the possibility at the time, hadn't considered his death something that could actually happen, but now… Looking back made him want to shudder with the realization of how close he'd come, and that in turn forced him to drop the last of his clothing and plunge into the water. At least it was as warm as it was supposed to be, and immediately began to warm the chill ice out of his blood.

  "We'll speak again later," Ro said after a moment, and Clarion looked around to see that the other man was completely dressed. And rather than stand about gawking like some infantile voyeur, he added, "Enjoy your bath," and simply left. Clarion made a sound of agreement to the suggestion, finding he no longer had the strength for conversation. What he needed was to unwind in the warmth of the water, letting it soothe away all tension and fear.

  Choosing a molded area in the bath diagonally opposite the one Ro had used, Clarion submerged for a delicious moment then leaned back into the head brace. He hadn't stopped to look for soap, but that could be done later. Right now he needed to soak the ache out of his bones…

  Clarion fell asleep for a while, but not a long enough while. He was still tired when the sound of the door opening woke him, and he looked around to see another stranger entering. This one was dressed in what Clarion considered low-class farm fashion, and he apparently had no idea anyone else was in the bath house. He looked around at the cabinets ranged to the left of the door, and actually had to open each of them before he located the one with towels. Then he went back to the one with soap, and carefully withdrew a jar.

  Clarion considered ordering the lout to wait outside until his own bath was finished, but memory of his conversation with Ro caused him to hold his tongue. Here was certainly another ally in the war to attain freedom, and Clarion was desperate enough to accept help from whatever source it might originate with.

  "Good day to you, friend," Clarion said as he sat up in the water, startling the lout into whirling around despite his carefully pleasant tone. "I'm sure you're in need of this bathwater as badly as I was, so please don't hesitate about coming right in."

  "I didn't intend to hesitate," the mudfoot answered, returning to removing the sacks he obviously considered clothing. "You startled me because I thought the bath house was empty, but it isn't as if I've never used a bath house before. Our town has a large one for the use of the public, and week's end night usually had the place filled to capacity."

  "You've used a public bath house?" Clarion blurted, unable to help himself. "With crowds present? But surely your own home had a bath house?"

  "In summer we used the creek's swimming hole, and in winter we used a tub in the kitchen," the mudfoot answered with a shrug as he made for the water. "What's the difference where you bathe, as long as you come out clean?"

  Clarion couldn't answer that question, not in any words the mudfoot was likely to understand. It made a good deal of difference where one bathed, and anyone capable of questioning that truth would certainly be incapable of comprehending it. Instead of continuing with the subject, Clarion waited until the lout had settled himself in the place Ro had vacated, and then he spoke more to the point.

  "I assume you're weary because of what was necessary to pass your test," he said after clearing his throat, then borrowed the rest of Ro's successful opening gambit. "What did they do to force you to participate? I'm Lord Clarion Mardimil, by the way. Air magic."

  "Lorand Coll, Earth magic," the man responded, raising his head to frown at Clarion. "What do you mean, how was I forced? I didn't have to be forced to participate, I wanted very much to try."

  "You want to be here?" Clarion demanded incredulously, finding it impossible to keep from rising to his feet. "Well, I don't know why I'm surprised. Of course someone like you would be eager to fight for that nonsense, it's worlds above anything you're likely to get under any other circumstance. A pity they don't believe in taking all their applicants from the lowest segment of our society."

  "At least I'm not from the useless segment of our society," the lout had the nerve to rejoinder, his face darkened with anger as Clarion stalked past him on the way out of the water. "If I end up without a High position, I'll still be able to contribute more than I use up. If you end up without one, all you'll be able to do is go back to being a worthless sponge. If you suddenly lost all your mountains of gold, you'd starve to death in a week. Since I'd survive no matter what, I'd say you need to rethink your conclusion about which of us is really the lowest."

  Clarion was out of the water by then, and he refused to dignify the lout's moronic claims by commenting. Instead he used air to force all the water from his body, finding that even so small an effort as that was nearly beyond him. He quickly used the towel on the bottoms of his feet and then dressed, still maintaining his silence. Of all the mindless, idiotic things to say, calling him low class and worthless! If he weren't so tired, he'd show that lout exactly how worthless he was!

  Fury took Clarion out of the bath house once he was fully dressed and had gathered up his soiled clothing. He also slammed the door behind him to punctuate his exit, and quickly strode back to the tiny accommodations he'd been forced to accept. He slammed that door as well, then hurled his soiled clothing away with every ounce of strength he had left. Calling him useless and worthless! Daring to question his ability to survive! Low class indeed!

  Clarion stalked back and forth across the room countless times, fighting in vain to control his anger. It wasn't true that he was useless, the lout simply didn't understand. Those of his class had no need to justify their existence with crude manual labor, they were above such foolishness! And if the unthinkable happened and he and Mother did lose all their gold, he'd simply - why, he would just-

  When the proper ending to his argument refused to come, Clarion discovered that he'd also stopped pacing. He didn't know what he would do if he no longer had Mother's gold behind him, but he'd do something. He was a gentleman of quality, and that lout had had no right to question his worth. Why, he'd passed that first test, hadn't he? That proved clearly enough what he was capable of, even though he'd had to use his talent to do it. The talent was his, after all, and no one had given it to him…

  But the mudfoot had come far too close to thoughts of doubt that Clarion himself had had from time to time. When Mother had occasionally gone away without him, leaving him with a few of the male servants to see to his needs, he'd sometimes wondered what would become of him if she never returned. He had no idea where her funds came from, or how much was actually there. All he knew how to do was draw his allowance from the bank, that and how to spend it. If Mother had failed to return he would have been completely on his own, without support and companionship, without funds, and without the ability to care for himself. Useless…

  Clarion threw himself into a chair and covered his eyes with his palms, struggling with all his might to force those horrid thoughts away. He didn't want to be where he was, bowing to the demands of others and risking his life at their whim, but perhaps this was the answer to his dilemma. If he did qualify as a High practitioner, he would have a career if he needed or wanted it, one that no one without greater talent could
deny him. Yes … that might be the best way to handle the matter.

  Clarion lowered his arms to the chair's armrests, but didn't open his eyes. He was too tired, and now felt a good deal more at peace. He would continue to search for a way out of the trap of having to compete, but in the interim would make a point of showing what he could do. That way the choice of direction in his life would be his rather than everyone else's… Yes, that was the way…

  As he drifted off to sleep again, he was only distantly surprised that his glimpses of the future included women who were definitely not Mother…

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Lorand stared at his still-incomplete stairway of earth, trying to figure out how to handle the increased flow of soil that now poured down. Pulling in more power was out of the question, not when he was so tired. But he'd have to do something. The stronger flow of earth threatened to knock down the steps he'd already built, not to mention trying to bury him where he stood. He'd have to protect both himself and the steps, but his strength was failing almost by the minute.

  He stewed mentally for another long moment, then could have kicked himself when the obvious answer came. If he stood on the stairway, he could protect both the stairs and himself with the same effort. Cursing himself under his breath, Lorand carefully mounted the first step then put his left foot on the second step. The treads were too narrow to hold both of his feet and he wobbled a moment getting his balance, but then he had it.

  Combining the two shields against the falling earth was easier, and after clearing the air immediately around him of dust, Lorand took a minute to rest. He'd pictured building his stairway all the way up to that small wooden window-door, but by now he knew it wasn't going to happen. The strain of holding the stairs together - along with everything else - was getting to be too much, so as soon as he could actually reach the window-door he'd try to get through it.

  The rapidly falling earth was now coming through in enough quantity to let Lorand hurry his building job a little. He formed another three steps of the same size as the first five, and then decided to try his luck. Every minute of delay meant a little less strength, and it would be stupid to wait until he was reduced to crawling. Not that he didn't feel like crawling right now…

  Pushing that thought aside, Lorand began to climb his stairway to its top where he then had to walk the top tread like an Aerialist, one foot in front of the other while he maintained his balance. The shield against the falling earth kept him from being knocked off, and when he reached the wall he found that his face now looked directly at that window-door.

  Lorand wiped his muddy right palm on his trousers before reaching to the square of wood, his left hand flat on the resin wall to help maintain his balance. If he found the square barred on the other side and unmoving he knew he'd probably cry, but happily he was spared that. The wood pushed in easily, and once opened stayed that way. Now all he had to do was climb through, and then he'd be able to rest for a while.

  That last, simple "all" nearly undid him. Lorand had done at least as much climbing as any other child as a boy, but his boyhood was a number of long years behind him. And it had never been resin that he'd tried to climb, which offered nothing at all in the way of toeholds. The inside of the window-door was just as smooth when it came to handholds, and that left only one thing to do: Lorand would have to use another, shorter step of earth to give him a boost up.

  But that meant using even more of the power, and Lorand wasn't sure he had the nerve to try it. Every other adult he knew used their talent almost carelessly, either not knowing or deliberately ignoring what could happen if they drew in too much power. Lorand often did the same when it came to casual use, but something inside refused to allow that when he had to increase the amount of "usual" power. He knew he was good and could handle a lot more of the power than most people, but…

  No, no buts. Another spurt of earth in his face, coming through the shield, quickly convinced him of that. He had to banish all doubts and use everything he had, otherwise he would end up dead anyway. Pushing himself to the limit wasn't much of a risk under the circumstances and all the doubt did was waste time he couldn't afford to lose.

  So he turned his attention to the earth which had fallen in the last few minutes, gathered it together between the hands of his talent, and formed it into a single step right up against the wall. He nearly covered his own foot doing that, but now he was seriously in a hurry. He could feel his strength draining out even faster than it had been doing so there wasn't much time left.

  This time he stood one foot on the mound against the wall before trying to climb through the window-door, and that made all the difference. A small jump got him far enough through that he was able to wriggle and squirm the rest of himself in, and then he looked around as he panted air that didn't need much cleaning. The area was narrow and not very long, but it was wide enough for his shoulders and there seemed to be a ladder below the opening on the other side.

  Crawling the few feet to the far opening and twisting around to put himself feet-first toward the ladder was almost harder than everything else he'd done. But Lorand finally managed it, then slowly got himself down the ladder. Only when he finally stood in the narrow hallway below did he let go, sitting down hard on the resin floor and not even feeling it. Exhaustion had that one benefit of dulling the pain of other happenings, and Lorand meant to take full advantage of it.

  Simply sitting still and breathing normally was marvelous, but after a moment Lorand's peace and quiet was intruded upon. The man from the front room of the resin building appeared carrying a cup of something, and when he got close enough he crouched beside Lorand.

  "Congratulations, young man, on passing your test," the man said with a pleasant smile. "You performed excellently well, but now I think you need this."

  He offered the cup then, and Lorand was tempted to refuse it just to show how disgusted he was. But he needed something to drink too badly to refuse, and once he cleared his mouth and throat he'd be able to put his feelings into words. The contents of the cup was more than just water, and Lorand felt some strength trickling back even before he'd drained the thing. That was great, since he knew exactly how he wanted to use that strength.

  "How can you people do something like that?" he demanded as soon as he put the cup down. "I came here intending to do my best, but not to gamble my life! Why don't you give people a decent chance?"

  "How much more decent a chance is there than winning your life along with passing the test?" the man countered blandly as he took back the cup. "It gives people the best motivation possible for doing their utmost, a level some might not reach without that strongest of drives. And you must also remember that some who come here plan to hide their ability, so they won't need to serve the public good. Don't the people of this empire deserve the best High practitioners it's possible to find?"

  Lorand's sense of duty kept him from arguing that point, especially since he knew of someone like that. The boy had been two or three years older than Lorand and had been rated a strong Middle in Air magic, but he hadn't been happy about going to test for High. He'd told all his friends that he would be back as soon as they discovered he didn't quite measure up, and then he'd put his feet up again and let his widowed mother continue to support him the way she'd been doing until then. The boy never had come back, and everyone had assumed he'd found someone else to sponge off…

  But that wasn't the most important point the man had made. The one that affected Lorand personally was the one about reaching a level he might not have reached if his life hadn't been at stake. He couldn't very well argue the truth of it, not when it had actually happened to him, but he still felt a formless yet definite sense of unhappiness.

  "I understand all the reasons you've mentioned, but I still think you're … not doing it quite right," Lorand said hesitantly. "There ought to be a way to accomplish the same thing without risking people's lives."

  "Well, if you can think of the way, by all means let us kno
w," the man said as he straightened. "Right now your coach ought to be here soon, so let me explain a few things. Now that you've passed this test, you'll be scheduled for other sessions in the applicant process. The first of the sessions won't be for a few days, so we've arranged for you to stay at a residence along with other applicants."

  "How much will that cost?" Lorand asked as he struggled to his feet. "I don't have much left of the silver I was given, so I need to know how far it has to be stretched. And do you have a washbasin handy? Separating the earth out of the mud covering me is a little bit beyond me right now."

  "Of course," the man answered, gesturing behind him. "We have a washbasin set up just around this curve. And as far as your accommodations are concerned, we'll be paying for that. What you have to pay for is your food and any other necessities, but don't despair about making ends meet. After the sessions you should be eligible for the competitions, the winning of which will provide bonuses in gold. That will help you to refill your purse."

  Lorand nodded absently as he followed the man around the curve, delighted that he could soon have a source of income. He intended to pass all the tests they gave him anyway, so winning in competitions could be considered the same thing. And being paid in gold for the effort would be a great … bonus. Lorand grinned at the thought, then extended the grin when he saw the large basin filled with clean water and the towel folded beside it on the stand. He'd be careful not to spend the gold before he had it in his hand, but that water was about to be spent until he was completely mud free.

  Washing in the water with mildly scented soap made Lorand feel a good deal better, but even as he dried his face and hands on the towel he knew he'd have to find a bath house as soon as possible. His body felt almost as covered as his hands and face had been, but trying to fit himself into the basin wouldn't have worked very well. He put the towel back down to find that his clothes case had been leaned up against the basin stand, so he picked it up and joined the man he'd been speaking to at the door the man had opened in the wall.