Competitions

by Sharon Green

  “Mine devotedly,” Rion had echoed aloud, never having heard such a marvelous phrase. It was the way he felt as well, but he would certainly have to speak sternly to that young lady. To even suggest that he would tire of so beautiful and marvelous a woman—! That would never happen, but seeing her as soon as possible must. Somehow he would avoid the men watching him, and then—

  “Rion, this is where you get out,” Lorand said, bringing him back to reality with a jerk. He hadn’t even noticed that the coach had stopped, so deeply into his thoughts had he been. He nodded and got out of the coach, then walked through the resin wall to find a reception committee of one. Padril jumped up from a nearby table, and it was clear that the so-called Adept had been waiting for him.

  “Good morning, sir,” he said as he came toward Rion, a strange smile framed by his ring beard. “Will you have some tea before you begin?”

  “Yes, I believe I will,” Rion said, making no effort to stop in order to talk to the man. He was on the way to the table he had begun to think of as his, ignoring Padril’s side-scrabbling effort to keep up as he spoke.

  “Then do please join me at my table, the one you passed,” Padril urged, gesturing back toward the entrance. “The tea was only just brought, so it’s perfectly fresh. And the table position will allow you the privacy which is so much your due.”

  That last was probably said because quite a number of people sat about while talking and drinking tea, but Rion wasn’t in the least tempted by the idea. It sounded too much like something Mother would have said, and his own table stood empty and unclaimed.

  “I prefer to be in the thick of things, with truly fresh tea,” Rion answered, ringing a bell for a servant before sitting at his table. “You, however, may return to your privacy, and I’ll summon you when I’m prepared to begin.”

  “You’re denying me permission to join you?” Padril whined, sounding more disturbed than puzzled. “But I don’t understand, sir. Why would you do that?”

  “I’ve never been able to bear spastic behavior at this time of the morning,” Rion replied without looking at the man. A cup of tea was already being brought to him, and that was a much more interesting sight. “Now please go away and do your fidgeting and spasming somewhere else.”

  Padril apparently had no reply to that, but he continued to hover for a moment as the tea was put in front of Rion. When Rion gave all his attention to the tea and none to the hovering Adept, Padril at last accepted the fact that he’d been dismissed. He walked away with dragging steps, and Rion finally had the privacy that had been mentioned earlier.

  Which let him sit back and look around after sipping at his tea. The crowd spread out among the tables looked no different from the one of the day before, except for the people at the table where Padril had taken his lunch yesterday. Everyone else’s conversation looked desultory and bored, but the people who were presumably Padril’s associates seemed to be engaged in an intensely serious conversation. They appeared to be as unhappy as Padril had been, and briefly Rion wondered why.

  But the question held very little true interest for him, as Rion was in the process of shaping his determination into a vehicle for success. Yesterday he’d earned enough silver to pay for his keep, and today he would earn enough to take Naran to the best dining parlor in the city for dinner. He very much wanted to give her the world, but would have to begin with very small parts of it.

  This time he deliberately kept himself from falling too deeply into his thoughts, and considered instead the test which was before him. Rather than keep his subjects supplied with air, this time Rion would have to take their air away. The biggest benefit to that arrangement was the fact that Padril would need to declare the masteries a good deal more quickly than he had yesterday, otherwise they would run out of subjects rather quickly. That thought made him chuckle as he finished his tea, then he rose to his feet and turned to gesture to Padril.

  The Adept still appeared to be hovering even though he’d seated himself, and at Rion’s summons he lurched to his feet and lumbered over. The man really was much too overweight for the low position he held in life, and was also rather wasteful. The tea on his table looked as untouched as it had been on Rion’s arrival, but it was some distance away so Rion might have been mistaken. It was also completely unimportant, so Rion put it from his mind as Padril reached him.

  “I’m ready to begin,” he announced unnecessarily. “You may lead the way to the testing building.”

  The Adept seemed to shrink in on himself as he heard that, and his steps turned plodding as he obeyed. But as they passed the table filled with his friends, friends who had started out laughing at Rion just as Padril had, one of them rose and came over to join them.

  “I … believe I’ll come along and watch the witnessing,” the man announced to Padril, sounding oddly hesitant. “I trust you don’t mind, Padril?”

  “No, Arnot, not at all,” Padril responded, not quite sounding hearty and welcoming. “This is Dom Mardimil, who will surely soon be Master Mardimil. Sir, this is Adept Arnot.”

  Rion nodded curtly, annoyed that he hadn’t been asked if the intrusion was acceptable. It also annoyed him to be addressed as “dom” rather than “lord,” but the point wasn’t one he cared to press at the moment. And soon his proper title would be “master,” something he hadn’t realized and actually preferred. “Lord” he’d been born with, but “master” he would have to earn.

  Both men led the way to the second small practice building, and when Rion walked in he noticed the difference from the first building at once. None of the practice rooms was capable of being sealed, and some even had windows. Considering the fact that applicants were the ones who were expected to do the sealing, that was perfectly understandable.

  Padril went to summon the subjects Rion would work with, and he returned with six people who seemed to have been drugged. They moved as though walking in a dream, stopped immediately when ordered to do so, and stood staring off into other worlds with what appeared to be limitless patience and unconcern. Rion understood why they would be drugged—otherwise their terror would be completely disruptive—but he discovered that he didn’t care for the practice. The chill white of the resin walls grew colder with their presence, and Rion would have shivered if he made a practice of allowing himself to do such things.

  “I believe we’re ready to begin,” Padril said as he closed the door to the small room, now, for some reason, sounding determined. “Please start any time you wish.”

  The man Arnot hadn’t said another word, but he and Padril now stood together. Not long ago Rion would not even have noticed that, but now he noticed and also wondered. These people had proven they weren’t to be trusted, and having two Adepts in the room seemed suspicious. Rion decided to keep a wary eye on them, as they were almost certainly here for their own benefit rather than his.

  But his main concern was getting through this test, so he turned his attention to the six subjects. The four men and two women stood grouped together the way they’d been left, and Rion was surprised to find himself hesitating. He hadn’t found it difficult to take the air from those two ruffians who had invaded the residence with that odious woman, but these six people weren’t menacing women he cared for. How could he, in all good conscience, take the very breath of life from them…?

  Rion suddenly felt very alone in that room, being the sole person who stood by himself. Not long ago being alone was the most familiar thing in the world, but now he’d learned what it was to have the support and companionship of friends. He hated being without anyone on his side when he had to do something he disapproved of—and then, abruptly, he noticed he wasn’t quite as alone as he’d thought. A small spider had come down on a thread to hang above his right shoulder, just a bit below eye level.

  Normally Rion would have moved away from the thing in disgust, but now…

  But now the spider was his only companion, and its companionship let him turn to the six subjects again. He didn’t like
what had to be done but his approval hadn’t been asked for, so he’d better get on with it and put the distasteful time behind him.

  Reaching for the power was unnecessary, as Rion seemed filled with it the instant he wanted it. This was something new and it startled him, but not so much that he forgot what he was about. He formed a large sphere around the six subjects, and the next instant they were all gasping for breath.

  “Nicely done, sir,” Padril said, for some reason now sounding almost as greasily insulting as he had to begin with. “It took longer than I’d expected for you to get started, but it was certainly done well. You must hold them like that for a full minute, and when you release them I’ll order them to their second positions.”

  Rion had just as good a sense of time as anyone else, but that single minute seemed longer than any other he had ever lived through. The subjects choked and clawed at their throats while he held them airless, but when the minute was up and he released them they went back to their waking dream state. They breathed deeply for some seconds, but other than that they showed no signs of knowing how close they’d come to death.

  Padril let the subjects return to breathing freely for a while, and then he ordered them to split into two groups of three. They moved immediately into the commanded arrangement, and it was time to do the same thing to them again. Rion glanced at the spider, delighted that it was still there with him, then he formed two spheres from which he took the air.

  “Ah, much more lively this time, sir,” Padril said while the subjects choked again and Rion waited for another endless minute to be up. “This will be your second upper level mastery, but in a manner of speaking you have to admit that it’s actually easier than first level. Yesterday you had to keep yourself supplied with air along with the subjects.”

  Rion wasn’t prepared to admit anything Padril wanted him to, even though the Adept was absolutely correct—in a way.

  Talent-wise it was certainly easier to take air from people than to keep them supplied with it, but personal standards-wise…

  When the minute was up Rion released the subjects, and again Padril waited before arranging them in three groups of two. Rion waited even longer to give the pallor on their emotionless faces a chance to fade a bit more, and then he took their air for the third time. The small spider seemed to be commiserating with his deep disturbance, exactly the kind of support he needed right now.

  “We’ll give the subjects an extra pair of minutes to recover this time,” Padril said when Rion released them at the end of the required delay. “Being without air for even so short a time weakens the subjects, and we wouldn’t want any of them to die, would we? I hope you don’t mind waiting, sir.”

  Rion didn’t answer the man, but Padril didn’t seem to be expecting an answer. The Adept’s recovered superior amusement was even more noticeable now, and his friend Arnot was clearly sharing it. But he had only one segment to go before he attained all four upper level masteries, so Rion didn’t understand the change in their attitudes. Why had they started out fearful and unsure, but now had done a complete about-face?

  The puzzle wasn’t one that Rion was able to solve during the intermission, not when the time allowed was so short. Padril announced that it was time to resume much sooner than Rion would have liked, and argument simply wasn’t possible. The exercise was best over and behind him anyway, so there wasn’t even any sense in arguing.

  Rion took a deep breath as he prepared to smother the six subjects again, only this time individually. Six spheres of airlessness were required to do the job properly, so he reached out—and ran into some sort of resistance. The necessary volumes of air slid through the fingers of his ability, avoiding his attempt to touch them. That had never ever happened before, and for a moment Rion was stunned.

  But just for a moment. It took that long to realize that Padril and Arnot simply stood there to his left and behind him, neither of them commenting on how long he was taking to perform the exercise. Since most of their original nastiness had returned they ought to be snickering at the very least, but an instant-quick glance over his shoulder let Rion see they weren’t. In point of fact they were both staring at the six subjects intensely, and the concentration in their expressions was anything but amused.

  Rion felt like snarling, and his spider companion seemed just as disturbed. If Padril and Arnot weren’t blocking Rion’s efforts with their ability, he would eat that entire building without salt. They meant to keep him from the fourth mastery and in turn also from the competitions, and they were most likely under orders to do so. No wonder Padril had been so frightened yesterday and Arnot disturbed this morning. They knew how much strength he had, and had worried about opposing him.

  But now they considered themselves entirely safe, because they’d seen him hesitate over taking away the breath of life from the subjects. Many people weren’t able to do it at all, Padril had told him yesterday when he’d first arrived, and the two Adepts now considered him almost as helpless as one of that sort. They would point to his many hesitations, tell him his failure was due to a hidden fear of harming the subjects, something he could be expected to believe. It would also be expected to keep him from trying for the mastery again, but trying a second time would not be necessary.

  Taking his spider friend’s continued presence as active support, Rion deliberately opened himself to more of the power than he’d ever used before. For a timeless moment there was a silent rushing sound in his ears, but certainly not caused by anything in the ordinary world. Along with the sound came an influx of strength, and the oddest feeling that his body would soon begin to glow. The entire experience was heady and faintly dizzying, as though he’d been drinking a bit too heavily, but then all those strange reactions went away and Rion was back to the way he’d been.

  Except for now being able to wield substantially more power. He hadn’t been sure his ability would support the added strength, but he’d been too angry to consider any consequences other than success. And now that he’d found his success, it was time to teach two “Adepts” a lesson.

  Rather than reach to the subjects again, Rion reached first toward Padril and Arnot. The men were too deeply immersed in their tampering to notice at first, but they certainly noticed when Rion surrounded them with their own sphere, then took away their air. After that he surrounded the six subjects just the way he was supposed to, and as they began to choke for the fourth time, Rion spoke without turning.

  “One last minute, and then the final mastery will be mine as well,” he commented, knowing Padril and Arnot were able to hear him. “That certainly isn’t very long, so I’ll think about extending the period while I wait for the time to pass.”

  The Adepts weren’t able to speak, of course, but Rion could feel the way they fought against his strength in an effort to escape. They weren’t all that weak which meant perspiration broke out on his brow from his efforts to resist, but once again success was his. He held all seven spheres intact and airless for the full required minute, and only then did he allow them freedom.

  Rion had already turned to look at the Adepts, neither of whom was a pretty sight. Arnot stood with his shoulders braced against the wall, and Padril had gone to his knees, both with their teeth bared in their efforts to break free. Their abrupt release came like the unexpected snapping of a rope, causing Arnot to slide down the wall and Padril to go to all fours. Both men were pale and immediately began to gasp in air, giving Rion the opportunity to speak first.

  “You now have my thanks for having tried to interfere with my advancement,” he told them coldly, noticing that they seemed to tremble from something other than the results of their ordeal. “If anything like this is ever tried with me again, no one will enjoy my immediate anger. Now let me hear you declare my fourth and final mastery.”

  “Con—gratulations, sir—on achieving—the level of—master,” Padril quickly obliged, panting even in the midst of the words. He also studied the floor rather than look up at Rion, and being able
to breathe hadn’t lessened his pallor. “Please—forgive us, sir, we were—under orders to—do as we—did. But you—triumphed anyway, and—in a moment I’ll—fetch your silver dins—and master’s bracelet.”

  “Bring it to my table, where you’ll find me resting from my exertions,” Rion ordered, then he turned and walked out of the room. He’d first searched for his spider friend, having some vague idea about taking it outside where it might have a better chance to survive, but the spider had disappeared. Which was rather a lucky thing, as Rion was badly in need of the time to do some thinking.

  The bright morning sunshine came as a surprise when Rion stepped outside, since he felt as if he’d spent hours if not the entire day in the practice building. He also felt as if he hadn’t eaten in almost that long, so he rang a bell for service before sitting at his table. The servant who quickly appeared took his order for food as well as fresh tea, and then Rion was able to lean back for a while.

  And ask himself why the testing authority would try to hamper his efforts to move onward. That theory Holter had come up with, about the members of their residence having been arranged into a potential Blending; if the authority really did want them to compete as a Blending, why make such a strong effort to disqualify one of them?

  The suggestion that it had been done because the authority wanted no one but the strongest and best to compete would probably be what they would claim, but Rion didn’t believe it. Despite the solid reasoning behind such a stance, something about it rang untrue. Their aim wasn’t to disqualify the unfit but to disqualify everyone possible, which explained why every ruling Blending for the last hundred years had come from the nobility. The testing authority had eliminated all real competition before the final confrontation came about.