Competitions

by Sharon Green

  I let Adept Gerdol seat me at the table, feeling a small chill creep around my backbone. The fear the two people were showing couldn’t be based on the possibility that I might turn out to be offended by their previous behavior. It had to come from reality and past experience, specifically with others who’d proven to be stronger and had also done something to them or to people they knew.

  All of which made me uneasy about what sort of situation I would soon be moving into. Tomorrow Soonen would be attacking me with her ability while I performed the same exercises, and I’d have to protect myself as well as gain the masteries. Assuming I was able to do that I would then move to the first of the competitions, and afterward I would have to face someone of my own strength in a direct confrontation.

  Someone who might possibly be trying seriously to kill me. My insides lurched and roared at that thought, making it impossible for me to hear what Adept Gerdol was saying to me. My life might well be in danger soon, and I didn’t quite know how to handle the idea. In desperation I looked around for my bird friend, needing its support, but it seemed to be gone.

  And that, I couldn’t help thinking, would prove to be more of an omen than a natural occurrence…

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Vallant Ro, Water magic

  Vallant sat at the table after having finished his lunch, lost to the pleasure of beautiful birdsong. The woodsy music not only reminded him that he was out of doors, it told him that his bird-supporter was still here. It had kept him company all morning, showing up when he first began to practice.

  He looked around then, seeing his Adept guide Wimand sitting a short distance away with two cronies. Vallant was supposed to have waited until after lunch to begin his practice, but he’d been so desperate to get away from Wimand’s chattering that he’d taken the first opportunity to begin practicing. Holter hadn’t used the first practice cubicle long, which was only to be expected. Despite Wimand’s loudly-voiced opinions to the contrary, Holter was every bit as good as Vallant in Water magic.

  And that despite the fact that Pagin Holter was a former stableman, a member of the lowest class. Wimand was sure Holter would quickly reach his limit and thereafter fail, but Vallant knew what was driving the small man he shared a talent with. Holter was the only duplicate talent left in Vallant’s residence, and the hurt Holter felt over being rejected by his long-time friends also made him feel like an outsider among everyone else in the residence. Rather than making him give up, the hurt had turned Holter completely determined to succeed in the competitions for High practitioner. Vallant had gone through the qualifying sessions with the man, and therefore knew Holter’s chances were excellent.

  And, in a manner of speaking, a lot better than Vallant’s chances. He raised his teacup and took a bracing swallow, but would have needed something as strong as brandy to really feel braced. Vallant had a problem with enclosed spaces, and while the preliminary practice areas were out of doors there, the competitions were held in a large, white resin building. A large, white, windowless resin building, which made the place a lot smaller than everyone else undoubtedly considered it.

  But Vallant had to master the various practices, and then had to move on to the competitions. He and the others in the residence had agreed that failing to qualify would bring big trouble, even if they didn’t yet know what that trouble consisted of. Moving ahead would probably bring trouble as well, but that would be some time in the future while failure would bring immediate results.

  So Vallant had to keep going forward, but the thought of needing to walk into—and stay in—a windowless box for an indeterminate amount of time made his insides twist and a cold sweat break out on his forehead. He’d been able to avoid thinking about it while he practiced this morning, but now even the encouraging birdsong wasn’t helping. He had to master those practice problems, but if he did…

  “You took my advice and had the fish for lunch,” a voice said, and Vallant looked up to see that Wimand had come over without his noticing the Adept’s approach. “How did you like it?”

  “It was excellent,” Vallant answered, deciding against telling the man that any seaport dining parlor could have done better. “Now I’d like to know how I go about earnin’ those silver dins you said would be paid when I mastered the practice areas.”

  “You can’t mean you think you’re ready to ask for an examiner,” Wimand said with a small, incredulous laugh. “I know that your … companion has asked Adept Podon to witness his own attempt, but trying to keep up with the man is pointless. He’ll certainly fail to establish mastery, and you’ll look a good deal better by not joining him in that failure.”

  “What I expect to do is join him in success,” Vallant replied, getting to his feet to look down at Wimand. The man’s narrow-minded prejudice was something Vallant no longer had the patience for, and therefore no longer intended to put up with. “Podon has made Holter wait for an extra hour, but now that they’re gettin’ started, I intend to be right behind them.”

  “You’d do better to insist on going first,” Wimand responded with a petulant frown. “If you absolutely must go against my advice about the testing, at least arrange things so that the peasant follows your lead, rather than you following his.”

  “No,” Vallant stated shortly, fighting to keep his expression from showing the contempt he felt for Wimand. “We’ll do it my way rather than yours. Let’s go.”

  Wimand threw his hands up in exasperated agreement, then led the way toward the first practice cubicle. Holter and his Adept guide Podon were already leaving the cubicle, and the two Adepts exchanged a nod.

  “Now, see?” Wimand told Vallant in a low voice. “The peasant has mastered the first practice, leaving you to match him. If you’re expecting to surpass him when he reaches the point of failure, I hope you’re not overrating your own level of ability.”

  “I guess we’ll be findin’ out,” Vallant said, forcing himself not to add to the fairly neutral words. “In this cubicle, I’m to use the vat of ready water to surround those resin circles with water. Isn’t that right?”

  “First you surround all six forms at once,” Wimand clarified, stepping into the cubicle to push the round forms on their movable pedestals together. “As soon as you’ve done that, I’ll separate the six into two groups of three, and then you surround the two groups.”

  “Then it becomes three groups of two, and finally six individual groups,” Vallant put in to hurry the explanation he had no need of. “All right, here goes.”

  Vallant used the ready water to surround the six head-sized resin forms, with that bird perched on the top of the cubicle and trilling approvingly all the while. Each time Vallant did what he was supposed to, until all six of the forms were individually surrounded by water. Keeping the globes of water separate had given him some trouble until he’d remembered the sessions exercises he’d done to qualify for this place, and then the problem had been solved.

  “Well, at least you haven’t been left behind,” Wimand said with grudging approval when he’d finished. “Now lets go see how the peasant has done in the second area.”

  Once again Holter and Podon were leaving as Vallant and Wimand approached, and for the second time the two Adepts exchanged nods. Podon looked … faintly nervous but also faintly pleased, which managed to deepen Wimand’s frown.

  “In case you missed that, the peasant has apparently done it again,” he told Vallant accusingly. “I tried to point out how bad an idea this was, but you refused to listen. Assuming Podon isn’t giving the man a bit of unmentioned help, you’ll certainly regret not having listened to me.”

  “This second cubicle has those six breadboxes I’m supposed to fill with water,” Vallant said, again ignoring Wimand’s complaints. “If I do it right, the water will collect in a bowl inside each box, and won’t leak out until the bottom of each bowl gets released by the rope pull. I start doin’ it in one box, then in two together, three together, and so on until I’m up to fillin’ all six boxes a
t once.”

  “Yes, that’s quite correct,” Wimand agreed, sounding faintly bored. “Now you have only to accomplish it as easily as you discuss it.”

  It was clear that Wimand didn’t expect Vallant to succeed, but Wimand was in for a surprise. Vallant hadn’t been expecting to learn something new about his talent, but this particular exercise had taught him that he could feel things through the use of that talent. Without knowing how it worked, Vallant had been able to tell the precise size of each box’s innards, as well as where each water-catch dish was positioned. The discovery had made the third practice area very much easier rather than harder, which meant that if Holter had discovered the same thing, he was in the midst of gaining his third mastery.

  But Vallant still had to earn his second, so he turned his attention to the breadboxes without bread. Putting water into first one, then two, was boring when he could have started with doing all six at once, but he didn’t say so. He simply did the exercise the way they expected him to, and when Wimand emptied the last dish in the last box, he turned to the Adept.

  “It looks like I’ve matched Holter again,” Vallant drawled, distantly wondering why Wimand was beginning to look shaken. “Shall we continue on and see if I can do it a third time?”

  “Yes … yes, of course you’ll continue on,” Wimand said, his stuffy superiority apparently forgotten. “Please come this way.”

  He led off in the direction of the next cubicle, and Vallant raised his brows a bit as he followed. Something was bothering the so-called Adept, and it must have been serious if he hadn’t even knocked Holter again. It wasn’t far to the next cubicle, only a matter of feet, but even as they approached, Podon turned to give Wimand an unreadable glance.

  “Gotta give Dom Holter here congratulations,” Podon said to Wimand in an over-hearty voice. “He just got th’ third mastery, ’n now he’s ready t’ start t’morra with practicin’ usin’ water from th’ air.”

  “Well, Dom Holter, I do congratulate you,” Wimand burbled like a young lady being introduced to the gentleman she’d had a longtime, distant crush on. “But I was certain you’d be able to do it, and I said as much to Dom Ro here. Who has only to complete this last exercise before being in the same position.”

  Some sort of disturbance flashed in Podon’s eyes as he made noises to show how impressed he was, but Holter turned to Vallant with a faint grin.

  “Go get ’em, man,” he said warmly, then walked away toward the tables with Podon trailing eagerly after him. He’d have to discuss what might be going on later with Holter, but right now he had a mastery to earn.

  The third cubicle had a curtain across the middle of it, and behind the curtain were different-sized boxes. Vallant had to fill them in the same way he’d filled the previous boxes, only here he wasn’t allowed to see any of them. He had to discover their sizes through the use of his talent, but he already knew how to do that. So he reached to the vat of ready water with the fingers of his talent, and began to do the exercise.

  When he was through, Wimand silently tripped the hidden boxes one after the other. Each one yielded the gush of water it was supposed to, and when the last, smallest box responded properly the Adept turned to Vallant.

  “Let me be the first to offer my congratulations, sir,” Wimand said in an unsteady voice, his forced smile looking just short of ghastly. “You’ve achieved the third mastery along with the other gentleman, and now the two of you are ready to begin practice tomorrow on the next level of achievement. May I accompany you back to your table and order you some tea?”

  “I think I’ll have a sandwich as well,” Vallant said with a nod, feeling mellow and pleased. He’d also gotten congratulations from his bird friend, which for some reason were more welcome than Wimand’s. And yet a glance around showed that the bird was now gone, disappointing despite being nothing more than expected. Vallant considered the bird his good luck charm, but had to admit he probably wouldn’t need any more good luck today.

  “And I believe I’ll share Holter’s table rather than sit alone again,” he continued as he followed Wimand back toward the eating area. “Sharin’ the success, and all that.”

  “Yes, yes of course,” Wimand agreed instantly, but the man looked more distracted than attentive. Once again Vallant wondered what was wrong, but wasn’t certain he ought to ask. Maybe tomorrow … after discussing the matter with the others tonight … and finding out how Tamrissa had done…

  I can still remember how … superior I felt back then, cautiously superior but still better than everyone else. The great achievement had been so easy… If I’d known how short a time I’d be feeling like that, I might have enjoyed it more. Well, you’ll find out all about it, but only when it becomes time to tell you.

  Right now you have to meet our opposite numbers, the people who became our greatest enemies—or so we thought. Nothing worked out the way we expected it would … or hoped it would … or generally wished it to. And now that I think about it, I suppose their Five could say the same thing…

  CHAPTER SIX

  Bron Kallan, Fire magic

  “I hate this, Bron, I really hate it,” Nialla complained, leaning up on her elbows in the bed. “I expected you to stay for a while, and here you are getting ready to leave.”

  “Some of us do have obligations in this life, Nialla,” Lord Bron Kallan replied distractedly while checking his long, dark-red hair in Nialla’s full-length mirror. “I happen to have an appointment this afternoon, and I don’t care to be late for it.”

  “You don’t dare be late for it, you mean,” Nialla retorted, trying to be as cutting as most of the ladies of their class. “Everyone knows they’re making you be in one of their silly little pretend Blendings, the ones they’re forming to make Adriari’s Blending look good. Adriari’s will be the first Seated Blending with more women than men, and we all think it’s just marvelous.”

  “That’s because none of you can think,” Bron retorted with a snort, turning to look directly at her. “The only reason the Advisors have chosen a predominantly female Blending this time is because women are easier to give orders to. Instead of arguing about things they don’t like, they simply cry a little and then obey. The Advisors are tired of sharing the running of this empire with a strong Blending, so this time they’ve chosen a weak one.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Nialla returned with a sniff, abruptly changing her position when she discovered how flat her breasts looked in the old one. “No one in their right mind would choose a weak Blending, not when they have to be strong enough to defend us from all those crises the Prophecy always talks about. You’re just jealous because you’ll be nothing but stage dressing for the performance the Advisors will put on.”

  “Of course, Nialla, you’re correct as always,” Bron said smoothly, not about to try to explain the difference between strong in talent and strong in character to the featherhead. Nialla had just one talent, and Bron had already made use of it. “It’s been as marvelous as always, and I’ll certainly see you again soon.”

  “If I’m free,” Nialla put in, her pretty face set in a sulk, getting the last word as she so loved to do. Bron ignored it as he left her bedchamber, but his mood was far from light and forgiving. There were quite a few things Nialla didn’t know about, and the uncertainty of one of them had been keeping him in a perpetual temper.

  So, after closing her bedchamber door, when he saw the antique piano in her sitting room, he suddenly got an idea. She’d had to wait years to get her hands on that piano, it had cost her a fortune in gold, and it was her pride and joy. But she’d called him stage dressing and pettily jealous, and for that she needed to be punished.

  It took only an instant for Bron to embrace the power, and then he directed his flames to the piano’s sounding board. He didn’t want to burn it to ash, and also made sure nothing else in the instrument was damaged. He simply worked to fire-harden the wood, which would render it useless as a sounding board. The entire piano would be usele
ss until the board was replaced, but replacing it would destroy the instrument’s value as a fully-original antique. Nialla would have the choice of giving up playing the thing as she so loved to do, or losing half the investment she’d made.

  Feeling how much his mood had lightened, Bron left Nialla’s house and called over his carriage and driver. The man was there and waiting for him, of course, and would have been in the same place even if Bron had been twice as long in coming out. His drivers were either constantly and immediately available or they were dismissed, something they were all well aware of.

  It wasn’t necessary for Bron to tell the driver where to go next, as he’d already listed his itinerary for the man this morning. That was another thing his drivers had to have, a good memory. He was a busy man, and didn’t care to be constantly interrupting his thoughts to give directions.

  Once Bron was settled the carriage moved off in the direction of Kambil Arstin’s house, where the meeting was being held this week. The Advisors had appointed fools from the lower nobility to work with their group of five and strengthen their talents, and once a week an Advisor’s agent held a meeting in one of their homes to discuss the group’s progress. It was usually a rather unpleasant time, as agents had a tendency to act as if they were one of the Advisors themselves. Bron hated to be told how badly he was doing because of his laziness, but this week’s meeting ought to be different.

  He smiled at that thought, knowing the meeting ought to be different for all five of them. It was certainly true that Bron’s parents knew how much he hated to be pushed and rushed and so had never distressed him with unreasonable demands, but now he had a special purpose for pushing himself. The five of them had decided, privately, of course, that they would become the Seated Blending. Adriari and her five were weak in all ways, and their competition would be very public. When Bron’s five defeated Adriari’s in front of hundreds of people, they would become the ones who were ultimately Seated on the Fivefold Throne.