Competitions

by Sharon Green

  “At the risk of starting a serious argument, I’m going to tell you what the truth is, rather than what you’ve talked yourself into believing.” Jovvi spoke slowly after something of a hesitation, hoping hard that she wasn’t making a mistake. “Friends do tell each other the truth, even if both the telling and hearing are painful. Will you forgive me in advance for being blunt?”

  Tamma sat staring down at her hands where they twisted together in her lap, but she didn’t say anything about not being willing to listen. She might be expecting Jovvi to take her silence as a refusal, but Jovvi preferred to take it in a positive way.

  “All right, so you won’t forgive me in advance,” she said after a moment, fortified with a deep breath. “You may even hate me after this, but I don’t hate you so here goes: it wasn’t Vallant who embarrassed you in front of your father, and vulnerability isn’t what’s upsetting you. You’re doing this because of jealousy, Tamma, and because you have no idea how a real, beneficial relationship between a man and a woman works. If you like, I’ll explain what I mean.”

  Once again there was just the creak and jangle of the coach’s motion to break the silence, so Jovvi took that as an encouraging sign and continued.

  “Let’s start with the jealousy aspect,” she said, noticing the small red spots which had appeared on Tamma’s cheeks. “You may not even really know what jealousy is, because you’ve never associated with a man you liked well enough to be jealous about. If that’s the case, let me assure you that finding out you’re not the first woman he’s involved himself with and immediately hating the idea is nothing unusual. Most women react that way, but some are wise enough to see how foolish they’re being.”

  This time Tamma shifted a bit on the coach seat, a sign that she was listening even if she neither looked up nor spoke. And there was a small frown on what Jovvi could see of Tamma’s face, an even better sign.

  “What you must make yourself understand is how unreasonable it is to expect that a grown man you’ve just met had no life before your meeting. If that were true you’d probably find you couldn’t stand him, because he had either no personality or an unpleasant one. If you want to be the first woman in a man’s life, you either have to be born right next to him, or accept one no one else wants to associate with.”

  “How would I go about managing that first option?” Tamma said suddenly with a wry expression, briefly glancing up. “The one about being born next to him, I mean. And I’m not jealous of that floozie my father pranced into my house. Any man who ever saw anything in her couldn’t possibly find anything of interest in me.”

  “That’s jealousy,” Jovvi stated, but with a grin. “And you have to remember that he didn’t find her interesting enough to marry. Maybe she saw other men in addition to him, and that soured his enthusiasm. Men are strange, even the best of them. They’ll do everything in their power to continue seeing their favorite courtesan, who probably has anywhere from four to a dozen patrons beside himself. But let his wife try to take even a single lover, and suddenly he wants nothing more to do with her.”

  “That’s probably because they think they own their wives,” Tamma said, then gestured away the whole idea. “But maybe that’s why I’ve lost interest. Once you ‘belong’ to a man he starts to see you as a possession, and I have no intention of being anyone’s possession ever again.”

  “You haven’t lost interest, and not all men are like that,” Jovvi disagreed again, but gently and without the amusement. “Vallant would probably be one of the exceptions, but I think you’re too afraid to find out. If you had let him stand beside you and support you when your father brought that girl to the house, you wouldn’t have been embarrassed. But then you would have had to face the start of a serious relationship with Vallant, and you can’t cope with something that new and that far beyond your experience. You decided to use anger to free yourself from a terrifying situation, which in this instance does make you a coward.”

  “I told you I was one,” she muttered, misery radiating from her slender body, but then she made the effort to square her shoulders. “And since there’s no argument about it, I might as well admit that his interest scares me silly. I don’t know how to deal with it, Jovvi, even if it made me feel like a carefree child at first. I hadn’t realized how … complex a relationship with a man can be, so I’m much better off not being involved at all.”

  “There are times when we have to force ourselves to do the right thing,” Jovvi told her, feeling the strength of the girl’s resolve with a sinking sensation. “Very often we’re wise to back away from something we know we can’t handle, but not all the time. In situations like this, where you can gain so much, you have to force yourself to take the chance. And what if he decides not to let you ignore him? He won’t hurt you, I know that for a fact, but men can be such incredible pests when they put their mind to it…”

  “But Jovvi, I just earned six masteries in Fire magic,” Tamma countered reasonably. “Even if he were the sort to hurt me, what could he possibly do?”

  Jovvi parted her lips to answer that question, then discovered that she couldn’t, not in just a few words. It took a greater knowledge of normal men than Tamma had, but she did have to give one example.

  “Well … suppose he decides to do something completely innocuous, like follow you around,” Jovvi finally suggested. “He’s not threatening you, he’s not trying to touch you, and he’s not even trying to engage you in conversation. All he’s doing is following you around like a puppy, making cow eyes at you any time you glance at him. How are your masteries going to help you with that?”

  “But that wouldn’t be fair!” Tamma protested, suddenly turning upset. “If he’s not trying to hurt me, how can I defend myself?”

  “That’s the whole point,” Jovvi said slowly and clearly, knowing the girl was still having trouble understanding. “That’s the way a normal man might decide to pester, and you won’t be able to justify hurting him even to yourself. Or maybe especially to yourself. You have to handle the matter differently, in a much more reasonable way. Why don’t you take him aside and tell him the truth?”

  “Do you really think that will make him stay away from me?” Tamma asked in turn, new hope in her eyes. “I hate it when he talks to me the way he did this morning, so sincerely and sounding so wounded. It made me want to comfort him, but I can’t afford to do that.”

  “No, you can’t,” Jovvi agreed in a mutter, now almost as depressed as Tamma had been a moment ago. “And I said I’d tell you the truth, so I have to keep on with it. If you sit down and talk to him I don’t think he’ll leave you alone, especially not if he sees the way your eyes brighten at the thought of comforting him. He’ll know you’re just as interested in him as he is in you, and he’ll never give up trying to make you admit it.”

  “As if admitting it would make a relationship easier and more possible,” Tamma said, her voice filled with weariness. “Then what am I going to do, Jovvi? If he starts to follow me around, I’ll probably have a screaming fit.”

  “It’s possible I may join you in that,” Jovvi muttered again, then let the following silence tell Tamma she was out of ideas. She’d never had trouble turning away a man’s interest, but then she had a talent Tamma lacked. And she’d never been half in love with the men she turned away, and Tamma certainly was. And now, with Lorand, she was in the process of learning how difficult it was to dismiss certain men from your thoughts. Maybe Tamma would come up with something they could both use.

  The rest of the ride went by too quietly, and from all the thinking Jovvi did there should have been the smell of burning wood. Tamma was obviously also thinking, but Jovvi had never seen a more unproductive time. Except, possibly, where their questions about the competitions were involved, and even those were being slowly answered.

  When they pulled up to the residence with no sign of the coach the men had used, Jovvi hoped that was because she and Tamma had gotten home first. If not, and she ran into Lorand, ther
e was an excellent chance that she would join Tamma in that screaming fit a lot sooner than either of them had expected…

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Lorand was the first to be picked up by the coach, and at first he thought he might be the only passenger. By now he was used to being the last in the group to accomplish whatever they were supposed to be doing, so he half expected the other men—and the women in their own coach—to have returned to the residence hours earlier.

  So it surprised him when they began to slow, and he looked out of the lefthand window to see Vallant Ro and Pagin Holter waiting beside the symbol for Water magic. Two strange men stood with them, just as Hestir, his Adept guide, had waited for the coach with him. It had been Hestir’s idea rather than Lorand’s, and even from a distance it seemed that Ro and Holter were no more eager for the company than he had been.

  The coach slowed to a complete stop, and Lorand’s two residence-mates climbed inside without wasting any time. The two strangers looked as if they meant to wave goodbye, but Ro and Holter ignored them completely as they settled into the seats opposite Lorand. Then the coach was moving again, and both men let out sighs of relief.

  “I think I was happier when they were lookin’ down at us,” Ro said to Holter, and then, when the small man nodded emphatically, added to Lorand, “We earned their masteries, both of us. Before that I was one of their group of ‘boys,’ and Holter was lower than dirt. Now we’re both really important men, and that made me very nervous.”

  “I know what you mean,” Lorand agreed with a sour nod. “Before I tested I was ‘dear boy’ to my Adept guide, but afterward I was ‘sir.’ And I didn’t like it nearly as much as I thought I would.”

  “Made me feel like more uv a stranger’n anythin’ yet,” Holter put in, a painful expression on his face. “Din’t ’spect ’em t’ make me a brother, but a little friendliness wouldn’a hurt. But they wus jest as scared as Ginge an’ them others, so we ain’t never gonna have friends agin.”

  Lorand could feel the pain radiating from the small ex-groom, and groped for something comforting to say as he exchanged a glance with Ro. Holter needed friends the way most people needed food and shelter, but at the same time he seemed to be refusing to accept it. Ro parted his lips to say something, but that was when the coach began to slow again.

  Lorand looked out to see Rion standing beside the symbol for Air magic, but no one was with him. Ro saw the same and again they exchanged glances, both clearly wondering and worrying. Was Rion alone because he hadn’t attained any masteries? They’d have to find out, but they would also have to be delicate about it.

  When the coach stopped Rion got in, a neutral expression on his face. Lorand waited for the man to settle himself beside him, and then he cleared his throat.

  “We were wondering how you managed to be waiting alone,” Lorand said in as light a tone as he could produce. “The rest of us were forced to put up with the company of our guides, so we’d like to know your secret.”

  “There’s no secret involved,” Rion said, sounding distracted and sober. “I simply told the man to go away, and he did. They may not take you seriously to begin with, but once you pass their foolish little test their attitude changes completely.”

  “Yes, Ro and Holter and I were just discussing that,” Lorand replied with a great deal of relief. “And Holter said something I was about to disagree with when the coach stopped. You said we would never have friends again, man, but you’re forgetting something important. You and me and everyone in our group are now friends, and no one will ever be able to change that. Don’t you think that counts for something?”

  “He’s right,” Ro agreed quietly when Holter simply looked uncomfortable. “We’ve all had to say goodbye to our old lives, knowin’ we’ll probably never be looked at the same again by our family and friends. But in their place we’ve got each other, and you won’t find us turnin’ our back on one of our own. If you think you don’t belong with us, that’s your idea, not ours.”

  “I know you been tryin’ t’treat me kindly,” Holter said after a brief hesitation, apparently struggling for the right words. “You’re all good folk who don’t like talkin’ down a man jest ’cause he don’t use purty words, but you cain’t see yer bunch frum th’ outside. You all fit t’gether, even Mardimil there who din’t fit in nuthin’ to start with, but me? I don’t fit, friend, an’ never will. If y’ever hadda choose betwixt Ro an’ me, which one would y’choose?”

  Lorand started to say he didn’t see a reason for choosing, then understood Holter’s point. Ro and Holter shared the aspect of Water magic, and if everyone else needed to choose between them, their choice would be obvious. But why would they have to choose? The only place they would need a single representative of each aspect would be—

  “Wait a minute,” Lorand said, completely sidetracked. “Unless I’m mistaken, you’ve seen something the rest of us have missed. Are you saying they’ve kept us together like this because they plan to form five of us into a Blending? But this is a twenty-fifth year, so that has to be absurd. We’re here to try for High positions, not—”

  Lorand discovered he couldn’t say the words, but Ro didn’t have that trouble.

  “Why not as candidates for the Fivefold Throne?” he demanded, revelation widening his eyes. “We don’t know how good we are compared to other applicants, but the testin’ authority does. If they think we’re good enough, who’re we to argue? Holter, you’re a genius!”

  “Definitely more observant than the average man, and also quite astute,” Mardimil put in, studying Holter quietly. “The theory seems an excellent one, and may indeed prove correct. In the event that it does, our friend’s question becomes more than academic—assuming we are the ones who are allowed to choose. Cynicism, however, suggests the choice will belong to those who consider themselves our superiors.”

  Everyone looked startled at that, even Holter, but Lorand knew his own expression must be stranger yet. Funny how he’d never seriously thought about being part of one of the challenging Blendings, even though the possibility had always been there.

  “I think that covers the question about choosin’,” Ro said after the moment they all seemed to need to adjust to the new situation. “We could be kiddin’ ourselves and find they don’t want us after all, but we should be braced in case they do. And we’ll have to tell the ladies about this.”

  “I hope they haven’t already thought of it themselves,” Lorand said with a small headshake. “I was starting to believe that women are generally sharper than men, but Holter has helped to restore my self esteem. Since he’s definitely a man, there’s still hope for me.”

  Everyone including Holter chuckled at that, but then the conversation died completely. Mardimil and Holter withdrew back into their brown studies, Ro fell into one of his own, and even Lorand was captured by his thoughts. He’d been concentrating so hard on winning to a Seated High position, that he’d never even considered being part of a challenging Blending. Now that he’d been forced to consider it, he saw the benefits in the changed circumstance immediately.

  If winning a Seated High position would let him make a happy, permanent life with Jovvi, how much better would it be if the two of them were part of the winning Blending? Their careers would last no more than twenty-five years, but Lorand was fairly certain that would be time enough to put aside enough gold for a comfortable retirement. He chuckled at that thought, then spent the rest of the ride daydreaming about how wonderful it would be if—when!—Jovvi became his alone.

  They were only a block or two away from the residence when a coach passed them going in the opposite direction. That said the ladies had gotten back before them, which raised Lorand’s spirit even more. He wanted to see Jovvi and tell her how much better their prospects for happiness had become, but when they left their coach and entered the residence, the entire downstairs appeared deserted except for the servants.

  “I believe I could use a quick trip to the bath house,” Ma
rdimil said, taking Lorand’s attention from looking around. “Would anyone mind if I made the time solitary? I promise to be in and out as quickly as possible.”

  Lorand shrugged and shook his head to show that it was fine with him, and Ro did the same. Holter had already disappeared as usual, so Mardimil nodded in turn and headed directly for the back hall and the bath house.

  “I could use a bath myself, but waitin’ until he’s done won’t hurt,” Ro said then. “I’ll just go to my bedchamber and get a wrap to wear instead of these clothes, and if I take my time he ought to be finished just about when I’m ready to start.”

  “I could use the same, so if you don’t mind I’ll join you,” Lorand replied. “Unless you’re in need of the same solitude? Personally, I could use someone to talk to.”

  “That makes two of us,” Ro agreed, clearly not simply being polite. “Let’s meet back down here in that sittin’ alcove near the back door, and when Mardimil comes out of the bath house, we’ll go in.”

  Lorand was happy to add his own agreement, so they went upstairs and separated to go into their respective bedchambers. Just for an instant before he opened his door, Lorand fantasized finding Jovvi in his bed, gloriously naked and eagerly waiting for him. Then he opened the door and found the chamber empty, which made him sigh as he walked in and closed the door again. If he didn’t get things straightened out with Jovvi soon, he just might find himself daydreaming about her at the wrong time. Like when he was supposed to be achieving a mastery, and that couldn’t be allowed to happen. Only the best of the best would be chosen to be in a challenging Blending, so that’s what Lorand would have to be.

  He took his time getting out of his clothes and into a wrap, but he still reached the sitting alcove near the back door first. He had no idea how long he would have to wait for Ro, but before he had time to consider the question the man appeared. And a moment after that Mardimil came in through the back door, wearing a towel wrapped around his middle and carrying his worn clothing. He nodded his thanks for their patience when he saw them, then headed for the front hall and the stairs leading upward. That meant the bath house was now theirs, so they went outside together and walked to it.