by Sharon Green
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," the older woman said suddenly, pulling Vallant out of his stare. The stableman had already returned to his seat at the table, and Vallant hadn't even noticed.
"I'll begin by introducing myself to you," the woman continued, looking around at all of them with a smile. "I'm Lady Eltrina Razas, and I'll be your liaison to the testing authority. The first thing you must know is that you'll be expected to pay three silver dins a week if you intend to eat at this table - starting tonight. When I'm through speaking you'll go and fetch the silver, and then give it to me."
There wasn't quite a murmur at that, but Vallant thought it was only because none of them really knew each other. Sending people to live in a place after threatening their freedom, and then making them pay to eat! If Vallant had had any doubts about whether or not he wanted to continue associating with those people, that would have settled them.
"Another thing some of you will have to fetch is your identification as an applicant," the Lady Eltrina went on, now looking at them with a shade less friendliness. "You were told to wear it at all times, but half of you have come down here without it. From now on anyone appearing without identification will not be fed, even if he or she has already paid the necessary silver."
Now everyone looked around, to see that Mardimil, the beautiful woman next to him, the stableman, and Vallant himself no longer wore those chains and cards. Vallant had simply forgotten about his, but it looked like none of them would forget again. Score another direct hit on the possibility of a reasonable relationship with the people behind all this.
"As a final matter, you must all be ready just after luncheon tomorrow for the carriages which will come for you," Lady Eltrina said. "You will be taken to a tailoring shop which is familiar with our requirements, and there you will have fitted two outfits each for attending sessions in. The gentlemen will be given gray trousers and white shirts, and the ladies gray skirts and white blouses. You will also be expected to pay for the clothing, but a mere token rather than full price. If you use the shop afterwards to buy other, more usual clothing, then you'll pay full price. Now be so kind as to fetch the silver - and your identification, if necessary - so that I may leave you to your meal and the rest you undoubtedly crave."
It wasn't a happy group which rose from the table, but it also wasn't a slow-moving group. Everyone was obviously just as hungry as Vallant, and the only way to make the food start coming was to pay. Tomorrow Vallant would visit his family's bank and draw some gold, to replace what he would spend tonight and tomorrow at the tailor. He still had some silver left from what he'd been given at the start of the trip, but not all that much.
And as he watched the girl from the bath house leave the room along with everyone else, he finally had to admit that he owed her an apology. Warla had told him that the owner of the house was named Tamrissa Domon, and the older woman had called herself Eltrina Razas. That left his bathing companion as Tamrissa, especially since she'd also worn her identification. He'd finally noticed that as well, after spending most of his time staring at her face. And that beautiful reddish-blond hair…
Vallant sighed as he headed for the stairs along with everyone else. Tamrissa Domon attracted him in a way no other woman ever had, but he hadn't come to Gan Garee to find a woman. In point of fact he'd decided against ever becoming entangled with a woman again, and he'd be a fool to forget that. So he'd simply find an opportunity to apologize to her, and then he'd be polite but distant. That ought to please her, at any rate; she hadn't seemed to like him very much, which was actually a damned good thing.
But which would have been a better thing if it hadn't annoyed him so much…
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lorand was among the first to get back to the table after paying over his silver, but no one actually took their time. The hollowness inside him had to be present in everyone, even that pompous fool Mardimil. The "lord" had stopped to speak to the Razas woman on his way out of the dining room, but the conversation couldn't have lasted very long. Mardimil had returned only moments behind Lorand, and he didn't look the type to run.
But he seemed to be a lucky type, having been seated next to Jovvi Hafford. Lorand wished he had the nerve to ask the man opposite to change seats with him, but they'd been assigned those seats and the man seemed to be as taken with Jovvi as Lorand felt. But at least she'd smiled and nodded to him, which was more than she'd done with any of the other men there.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you," Eltrina Razas said at last, hefting the pouch she'd put the silver in. "Our business is concluded for the moment, so I wish you hearty appetites and a pleasant night. When I return, I'll have your session schedules. Warla will name each of you for the others, and then you'll be left to your own devices."
No one said anything to that, just the way they'd said nothing to any of her other comments. She wasn't only a noble, she was someone who could make a hard time for them with the testing people. And she'd hesitate not a heartbeat to do it, that had been clear from the first despite her smiles. Lorand meant to stay well out of her way, a decision he probably had a lot of company in making.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the names are as follows," the girl Warla said, sounding frightened to death rather than sure and confident the way Eltrina had. "At the head of the table is Tamrissa Domon, owner of this house. Beside her on her left is Lorand Coll, then Beldara Lant, then Vallant Ro, then Eskin Drowd, then Clarion Mardimil, then Jovvi Hafford, then Pagin Holter. Please enjoy your meal."
Her curtsy was hurried and very self-conscious, and the Razas woman was amused when she followed Warla out of the room at a much more leisurely pace. Lorand heard a very faint "Finally!" along with a sigh from the girl who had been named Tamrissa Domon, so he smiled at her.
"I agree with that sentiment completely," he told her in a soft voice. "In case you missed it I'm Lorand Coll, and I can remember a time when I wasn't a mere shadow of my former self."
"I don't think I qualify for the term, 'mere shadow,'" Tamrissa answered with a smile that made her even more beautiful than she was naturally. In fact she was just as beautiful as Jovvi in a more innocent and open way, which made Lorand wonder where he'd gotten the nerve to speak to her.
"I still weigh too much to call myself a shadow, but completely empty is another matter entirely," the girl continued. "I was ready to eat as soon as I got back from the test, but at least the staff is beginning to serve now."
"I wonder what those sessions will be like," Lorand remarked, mostly to keep himself from noticing the bread and cheese and soup that hadn't quite reached the table yet. He would not make a pig of himself by immediately bolting down what was put in front of him… "I intend to pass whatever they throw at me just the way I did today, but I can't help wondering what that whatever will turn out to be."
"It couldn't be worse than what they did to us today, so I have very high hopes," Tamrissa answered, obviously keeping herself from staring at the incredibly good-smelling soup that had been ladled into the bowl which had been put in front of her. "I also intend to pass, no matter how hard they try to make me fail."
"I will pass," the red-haired girl to Lorand's left put in, joining the conversation as if she had every right to do so. "To say you 'intend' is to say you have doubts, and I have none. Since you heard my name you now know who I am, which certainly confirms what I said. I will be the Seated High, and nothing and no one can stop me."
"That's all yer after?" the man opposite Lorand, Pagin Holter by the name on his identification card, put in hesitantly. "Wouldn't mind havin' thet m'self, but only fer consalayshun. It's bein' part o'one a them challenger Blendin's I mean t'try fer, this bein' a twenty-fifth year 'n all. Din't you folks r'member thet?"
Lorand thought the man had asked his question because of the way everyone was staring at him, even the people at the other end of the table. Holter was a small man and obviously far from the sort to push himself forward, but the fact that his voice had been hesitant hadn't s
topped it from being deep and carrying. Everyone seemed to have frozen in the midst of whatever they'd been doing, shock or surprise showing on each of their faces.
"Yes, that's right, I'd forgotten it was a twenty-fifth year," Tamrissa said, apparently less affected by the announcement than Lorand and the rest. "Those of us who live in Gan Garee tend to be more aware of things like that, since the contests are always held here. I've heard they're really something to see, but as far as being a part of it goes… The winning Blending rules for twenty-five years!"
Her tone of voice said she couldn't quite picture herself ruling at all, let alone for twenty-five years, and Lorand knew just how she felt. It was one thing to aspire to a High position, another thing entirely to try for the Fivefold Throne. There had been plays and books written about people who'd dreamed about that, and most of them were either comedies or tragedies.
"Of course, that explains everything," the red-haired girl to Lorand's left breathed, apparently having missed what Tamrissa had said. The girl looked as if she'd been struck with revelation, and a delightful one at that. "Now I understand why I qualified for testing this year rather than any other. I'm meant to be part of the winning Blending, to fulfill my full destiny and rule."
"I'm afraid your destiny comes up a bit short for that," a voice drawled, and Lorand glanced around to see that it was the fool Mardimil who spoke. "All members of the current Blending are from the nobility, which you would know if you moved in the proper circles. As the members of most of the Blendings before them were also the same, you should have chosen your place of birth a bit more carefully. Destiny favors those with all the proper qualities."
"Obviously you're all too jealous to admit the truth," the girl said smugly, somehow managing to be even more annoying than Mardimil. "But now that I know what my purpose in life really is, I don't care how jealous you are. When I'm crowned as one of the new Blending, I may even forgive you."
And then the girl turned with a smile to her food, dismissing all the rest of the world as beneath her notice. Lorand exchanged a glance with Tamrissa, who wrinkled her nose in distaste and shook her head, then he began to pay attention to his own food. Even if he hadn't been so hungry, there was nothing left to say to the red-haired girl who thought so much of herself. The idea she'd latched onto was tempting, but only a fool would think about it seriously…
* * *
Clarion was so hungry he all but inhaled what was put before him, barely even noticing that the house cook was more than adequate. He'd been prepared to eat anything at all, even lower-class food, just so long as it filled him. And diverted him from that fool of a girl across the table. To think that a female dressed in cotton would consider herself a possible candidate for the new Blending! She was as blind and empty-headed as the rest of her class - and seemed to match at least one member of his own class.
The memory of his conversation with Lady Eltrina still nettled, enough so that under other circumstances it would probably have ruined his appetite. As a courtesy he'd stopped to introduce himself, and then would have mentioned how inappropriate his current surroundings were. He'd expected a member of his own class to understand, possibly even without having to be told; what he hadn't expected was to be cut short before the first word might leave his mouth.
"You've been told to go and do something, sir," she'd said coldly when he'd stopped in front of her. "In your case you've been told to do two somethings, which should mean you have even less time to accomplish it. Beyond that, we have nothing to say to one another."
Rather than argue, Clarion had bowed stiffly and continued on his way to fetch that idiotic identification card and the piddling amount of silver the woman had demanded. There wasn't much of the silver left after that journey, so tomorrow he'd have to pay a visit to Mother's bankers here in Gan Garee. A good portion of his last allowance still remained credited to him, enough so that silver would be the least of his worries.
He reached for another cut of bread, and found himself glancing involuntarily again at the girl sitting to his left. Jovvi Hafford, they'd said her name was, and the one at the head of the table was Tamrissa Domon. Both of them were dressed in silk and showed surprisingly good taste as well as something of well-filled purses, but that wasn't what seemed to attract Clarion to them. He honestly had never seen two women more beautiful, and for the first time in his life there were stirrings within him which weren't being banished by Mother's presence. The stirrings were decidedly uncomfortable, but for some reason it pleased him that they remained. Perhaps he would even find it possible to do something about them…
But not at the moment. Right now it was his hunger that he assuaged, a prospect made even more pleasant by the appearance of platters of meat and bowls of vegetables in various sauces. The one lack was a decent wine to go with the rest, but in all honesty Clarion wasn't certain he could manage wine right now. A single sip of it would likely stretch him out for the night, leaving all that marvelous food to go to waste. The tea they'd been provided with would have to serve, at least until he returned to himself.
And until he had a tighter rein on his thoughts. Even as he let another bite of the tender roast melt in his mouth, his mind insisted on pursuing the thought that this was a twenty-fifth year. The present Blending would soon be replaced, and he happened to be right on the spot among those who would vie for the honor. Of course, his current companions were beyond consideration, but there were certain to be noble Blendings assembled for the contest. If he should decide that the effort wasn't unsuitable for a gentleman like himself, perhaps…
"The mind of man is an amazing instrument," a voice commented softly, and Clarion looked up to see that it was the man to his right, Eskin Drowd, who spoke musingly. "Before this excellent fare was placed before us, I could think of nothing but its imminent arrival. Now that I've consumed enough to assuage part of my hunger, my thoughts have found another topic to cling doggedly to."
"The matter of the upcomin' contest to seat the new Blendin'," Vallant Ro, across from Clarion, said with a nod around his latest mouthful. "I have no real interest in it myself, but even I can't stop thinkin' about it. I have no true yearnin' to rule anythin' but the deck of my ship, but the idea of bein' this close to and in the midst of the process that will seat the next holders of the Fivefold Throne… I must admit the concept is somewhat … thought provokin'."
"It's a bit more than that," Jovvi Hafford put in with a smile before Clarion was able to repeat what he'd said earlier about commoners being unfit for the honor. "I've also been thinking about it, and all it's done is bring me a great deal of confusion. I came here knowing exactly what I would do with my life once I'd put this test behind me, but now the test is behind me and my plans are in danger of crumbling to ruins. Part of me knows I haven't a chance of winning to the Fivefold Throne, but thinking about the power and safety such a position would bring…"
She left the thought unfinished, but Clarion found himself nodding along with the other two men. Power and safety, two things the Seated Blending enjoyed above everyone else in the empire - and beyond. The adjoining realms of Gracely to the east and Astinda to the west had begun with their own Seated Blendings, but somehow the process had broken down through the centuries and now it was said that every High capable of drawing power had his own small area over which he ruled. The borders of their own realm Gandistra had been steadily growing over the years at the expense of Gracely and Astinda, which proved the point. The Fivefold Throne represented power and safety impossible to match anywhere on the continent.
"It's been projected that in another thirty years or so, Gandistra will encompass this entire continent," Drowd said, nearly reading Clarion's thoughts. "Our expansion has been more rapid than most people realize, and I've even heard mention of the fact that across the seas are lands inhabited by unregenerate savages. If our expansion should become more rapid still, there may well be a place other than quiet retirement for this new, incoming Blending to go when their service to t
he empire is done. Savages need to be ruled by those with experience in ruling, and where would one find greater experience than among a retiring Blending?"
For the second time there was no overt comment on what had been said. Everyone seemed as taken by the concept as Clarion himself, even the fool of a girl sitting beside Ro. She'd held herself aloof from the conversation, undoubtedly to avoid more of their "jealousy," but her eyes gleamed in a way that said she pictured herself eventually bringing a large number of savages to their knees before her. The idea was absurd, at least with her in the picture…
"I'm not sure I approve of the idea of expanding to the next continent," Jovvi Hafford said suddenly, a faint frown marring her beautiful brow. "I knew a seaman once who visited the Tondron continent at least three times a year, the freighter he served on plying the trade route which has been used for centuries. The people in Tondron aren't savages, they simply have a way of life that doesn't include being ruled by a Blending. Not a single Blending, at any rate. I had the impression that most people became part of one, but I never got the details involved."
"That's because the man had to be lying to you," the red-haired girl said immediately with a sound of ridicule. "Only savages would consider getting along without a ruling Blending, and if you don't believe that ask anyone in Gracely or Astinda. They don't have Blendings either, and soon they won't even have separate realms. You really must learn not to be so gullible."
"Listening without preconceived ideas isn't being gullible, my dear," Jovvi corrected gently with an amused smile before Clarion could jump to her defense. "I can see how well you like the idea of lording it over everyone for the rest of your life, but just because you were allowed to do that until now doesn't mean you're guaranteed to contmue doing it. For your own sake, you'd better stop being so gullible."
A definite sound of scorn came from the redhead, and then she was back to being aloof and no longer a part of the conversation. The behavior was obviously typical of her, but happily it supplied a reason for Clarion to speak to the vision on his left - but not in a way she might find daunting.