by Sharon Green
Bron looked smugly pleased with that idea, but Homin and Selendi weren’t. The two began to protest the presence of someone else in their coach, but they must have remembered what Hiblit had said about being fashionably late—a memory that Delin’s comment had been designed to elicit. They both fell silent again almost immediately, and Delin smiled around at them.
“That’s all settled, then,” he said with finality. “Now, does anyone know if the coaches have arrived yet?”
It turned out that the coaches had arrived a short while ago, so they all donned cloaks and went out to board them. Selendi went straight for the leading coach, of course, and Homin trotted after her with Bron strolling along in their wake. That was perfectly acceptable to Delin, who glanced at Kambil before going to the second coach. Kambil had smiled faintly when their eyes met, and then had followed Delin. As soon as they were settled and the coach had begun to move, Delin looked straight at Kambil through the darkness.
“I trust you’re feeling better than you were earlier,” he said, adding warm concern to the tone of the words. “Tonight we all need to be at our most alert.”
“Yes, thank you, I’m feeling much better,” Kambil returned, gratitude in his own tone. “And you’re right about our needing to be alert tonight. Have you learned anything worthwhile in your inquiries?”
“One or two minor items,” Delin agreed, pleased to see how quickly Kambil had gotten down to business. “I was commended for my diligence in preparing properly for the competition, but I also learned something I didn’t care for. I wasn’t the only one making inquiries, which means at least one of the other groups may have plans similar to ours.”
“Or they may simply be doing what’s expected of them,” Kambil countered with a shrug in his voice. “In any event, I can’t see that it makes much difference. The chosen group will also be planning to win, and we haven’t let that affect us.”
“A nice point,” Delin agreed, and he certainly did feel less concerned now. “With that in mind, I should tell you that Rigos did only fairly well with giving us the full picture. I was told during my inquiries that each of our groups will face one of the challenging groups of peasants, which will leave five winning groups after the first competition. One or two of those five could conceivably be peasant groups, and then our one or two strongest will stand to face them. That will leave either three or four winners, which at that point should be all ours.”
“Should be,” Kambil mused. “I wonder how they can be so certain of that. An objective view of the real world suggests that one lowborn group might be able to best most of ours. In that event they’d be the ones to stand in the final event, and then we’d have to oppose them with our best rather than those who were prechosen.”
“You’re not naive enough to believe that that would be allowed to happen?” Delin asked with true amusement. “Our noble leaders don’t believe in leaving things to chance, my friend, so they’ve covered that point. Somehow all the peasants have been fixed so that they respond to specific orders at a specific time. That means they’ll lose a competition if ordered to do so, and that order will be given to any group which makes it to a second competition.”
“That’s comforting to know,” Kambil said, sounding as though he meant it. “So that could leave four of our groups to face one another. Two against two then, and the two winners left to face one another.”
“That’s supposed to be possible, but I don’t believe it actually is,” Delin told him, crossing his legs thoughtfully. “Damn these trousers. They’re too tight even for comfortable leg-crossing. But to get back to the final number of groups which will be competing: my research showed that in the last hundred years, the first competition always eliminated three peasant groups and two noble groups.”
“Leaving three noble groups and two of peasants for the next level,” Kambil said, sounding thoughtful. “Yes, that would make sense, public image-wise. If the lowborn were all eliminated in the first round, the crowd would probably become hard to calm. But once they’re eliminated in the second round…”
“Then the other peasants accept their loss more easily,” Delin finished with an automatic nod. “Yes, it does work out that way, as does the following level. Can you guess how they’ve arranged it?”
“With three groups left?” Kambil said. “Two of those groups would then face each other, with that winner being in the final confrontation. They probably hold their chosen group back until the very last, and then let them show their ‘strength’ by defeating the last group to challenge.”
“You’re almost right, but the plan is a bit more subtle,” Delin told him with grudging approval. “They make sure to announce that the two strongest noble groups will face the peasants who are left, leaving the third noble group to stand there looking embarrassed. When the two ‘strongest’ groups stand triumphant over the peasants, it’s then announced that they’ll toss a coin and the winner will face the final noble group.”
“And the final noble group somehow manages to defeat the stronger group they’re made to face!” Kambil exclaimed, obviously understanding immediately. “It should drive the crowds wild, to see an underdog come out on top. They’ll then be rooting for that underdog in the final challenge, and when they manage, against all expectations, to actually win, the crowds will be completely behind them. The prechosen Five will be a popular Five as well.”
“Exactly,” Delin agreed. “I admire the thinking that went into the idea, but I believe we can use the framework for our own purposes. We have to be one of the three last groups, of course, but that shouldn’t be hard to accomplish. The Advisors don’t care which of us is left after the first competition, as long as we number the requisite three.”
“And then?” Kambil asked. “Do we win the coin toss and go on to defeat the ‘worst’ of our groups?”
“Certainly not,” Delin denied, beginning to be amused. Kambil was so bad at planning these things… “If we defeat the underdog immediately, the crowds could very well turn against us. What we’ll do is lose the coin toss, and then stand and watch our fellow winner be defeated. But instead of coming out belligerently to face the upstarts we’re certain we can best, we’ll come out frightened and humble, and we’ll stand where the peasants’ groups stood.”
“So that the crowds will at least identify with us,” Kambil said, again sounding thoughtful. “That might very well work, and then give us a matching acceptance when we just manage to win. We’ll need the sympathy that just pulling it off will bring, but I do like the idea. I’m glad you can come up with these things so easily.”
Delin made a modest sound in response to the compliment, doing nothing to disabuse Kambil of his admiration. The truth was that he’d awakened one morning to find the complete plan already formed in his mind, a product of the research he’d done. In that way the effort was his rather than a lucky outcome, so nothing needed to be said.
“I’m sure any of us would have thought of the same thing if they’d done the research,” Delin nevertheless made sure to say. “And I wasn’t the only one checking into things. What have you learned about our supposedly worthy opponents?”
“The first thing I learned is that they are worthy, at least a good number of them,” Kambil replied. “As you probably know, the earliest competitors are sabotaged in some way in their final attempts at mastery. That lets the authority brush them out of the way to make room for those coming after. No sense in feeding and housing people all year, when they’ll only be needed at the end of that year.”
“So our opponents won’t have had the chance to get to know each other really well,” Delin said, pleased with the information. “What a tragic shame for their hopes and aspirations.”
“Yes, I thought the same,” Kambil commented dryly. “The ones we’ll be facing are all relative newcomers, and the various groups have been kept from meeting one another. They know only the members of their own residence, and won’t even get to see much of each other tonight. Half of them
were rated yesterday and the other half early today, but they were told the effort was a ‘competition.’ And then they were all told that they’d won.”
“And I’m sure the fools believed that,” Delin said with a laugh. “Peasants always want to win something, and never doubt you when you tell them they have.”
“Especially when that victory allows them to attend a reception at the palace,” Kambil agreed. “They’ve been told that their testing authority representative had such ‘confidence’ in their ability to win the first competition, that costumes were made for them even before they reached the competition. Being allowed into the palace is probably expected to make them forget any suspicions they might have.”
Delin laughed, thinking that someone ought to write a play with such farce in it. Imagine, ignoring your doubts and suspicions because you’re being allowed into a building.
“I made sure to speak to many of the people who worked with the entrants as guides,” Kambil continued. “They aren’t very good judges about how strong the entrants really are, since in too many cases their own strength was barely above the level of ordinary. And a curious fact came to light: they allowed more entrants to qualify for Blending status than are usually allowed to do so, but they claimed there was nothing strange about it. It simply happened by error, they insisted, since they worked in pairs against all entrants they meant to eliminate.”
“And it would clearly be a matter of their inadequacy to do the job properly if it weren’t a simple mistake in counting,” Delin said, appreciating the point. “That means they must have been lying, and some of the entrants are considerably stronger. Were you able to find out which?”
“Since nothing unusual happened, the guides had no one to point to,” Kambil reminded him. “I tried gold on one or two of them, but those I picked were honest about having nothing to sell. Looking for the ones who did could take longer than we have before we need the information.”
“So we’ll have to get it in a different way,” Delin decided. “I’ll think about possible methods and let you know. Were you able to get access to the test results?”
“Yes, and it didn’t even cost me anything,” Kambil replied with a chuckle. “When I heard that the entrants had been rated, I asked with full innocence if the results were going to be made available to all the noble groups. I was told that no, all our groups would not be given the results, only the ones who were intelligent enough to ask for them. And then I was given an already prepared copy of who did what, color coded with tonight in mind.”
“I’ll want to see that as soon as we get back,” Delin said, faintly annoyed that Kambil hadn’t already shown it to him. Another annoyance to be laid at the feet of that fool Hiblit… “What were the results of the entrants marked as orange?”
“I checked that before we left, and found that our first opponents are one of the two strongest groups,” Kambil told him, now speaking slowly. “The other will be wearing blue, and none of the remaining three really need to be worried about. Just orange and blue, with orange having scored fractionally higher.”
“I’ll bet that bastard Rigos arranged that before his … fall from grace,” Delin growled, heavy anger flaring inside him. “We’re scheduled to face the best of the peasants, which means we’re expected to lose to them. Can you imagine what that would do to our social standing if we hadn’t made up our minds to do more than simply participate?”
“Yes, I have a very good imagination,” Kambil said, sounding just as angry. “The loss would also ruin our chances at any political position we might be under consideration for, no matter who tried to support us. So much for the promises Rigos made when he asked me to spy for him.”
“Well, now he’s in no position to laugh at the gullible fools he lied to,” Delin said with a good deal of satisfaction. “But let’s forget about him and think over what we mean to do tonight. We’ll have to concentrate on the group in orange, but the ones in blue also need to be investigated. If they make it past the first round they should be neutralized in the second, but I dislike depending on the doing of others to keep me safe and happy. I’ll feel much better if we find out as much about them as we can.”
“I agree, so I have some good news,” Kambil said, his tone now grimly pleased. “The blue group has a member who turns out to be someone I know. I have no idea why he’s there, but it’s Lady Hallina Mardimil’s son Clarion—who’s now calling himself Rion.”
“That clod?” Delin asked with immediate derision. “I also know him, at least in passing. He’s the laughingstock of our peer group, and if it weren’t for Lady Hallina’s incredibly high social position—Which leads me to wonder how they managed to get away with putting him in with peasants.”
“She must have offended someone even higher,” Kambil replied, and Delin could hear the shrug behind his words. “She’s far from a pleasant person, and embarrassing her like that must have gained someone a large number of points, politically speaking. But none of that is as important as the fact that Mardimil is right there in the middle of the blue group. And he and I were briefly—but pleasantly—friendly at one time.”
“Which means that he won’t hesitate to tell you all about the peasants,” Delin pounced happily. “Especially when you point out—What aspect is Mardimil? I’m almost afraid to ask…”
“Believe it or not, it’s Air,” Kambil supplied. “And by now he must be furious over having been ignored by the two females in his group. Since I’m certain he’s never had any experience with females, they might even have laughed at him.”
“So he won’t hesitate when you offer him Selendi’s place in our group,” Delin finished, beginning to feel drunk on good fortune. “He’ll tell you all about the blue group, and then will sit back to wait for his shift to our group. No need to mention that I wouldn’t have him with us even if we had to do without Air magic. In many ways he’s worse than Homin, who’s certainly the least of us.”
“Then you’ll see personally to the orange group?” Kambil said, slightly less enthusiasm in his voice than had been there a moment ago. “I’d been thinking maybe I ought to approach them—”
“And waste that Aspect-sent rapport you have with Mardimil?” Delin interrupted smoothly. “We wouldn’t be foolish enough to do that, would we? You’ll see to Mardimil and I’ll see to our primary opponents, and later we’ll fill each other in.”
“Yes, I suppose it makes sense that way,” Kambil agreed after a moment with a sigh. “But later we will have to fill each other in.”
“Certainly,” Delin agreed with heavy warmth and sincerity. “We’ll each know everything the other does.”
Or almost everything, Delin amended silently as he made himself more comfortable on the coach seat. Only the true leader of their group needed to know absolutely everything, so Kambil would just be out of luck. Once he spoke about everything concerning the blue group, he would be told only what directly concerned him regarding the orange group. It was for his own good, after all. Burdening so weak a man with too many details would never do, not while they still needed Kambil…
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“I … think I’m impressed,” Rion heard Tamrissa say, the darkness in the coach keeping him from seeing her as well. “The palace has always been the one place in Gan Garee that my father and his friends could never gain access to no matter how much gold they accumulated, but I’m almost there. And it looks so … so…”
“Big,” Jovvi finished for her in a gently amused voice. “Palaces are supposed to be big, I’m told, so I try not to let myself get carried away with awe. But if you feel you have to be impressed, go ahead and do it. Just try not to forget what we have to do tonight.”
“How can I forget?” Tamrissa returned ruefully. “It was partially my idea. But to be honest, I still don’t understand why I suggested that we try to get in touch with the other entrants. Even if we do, how will that change anything?”
“We won’t know until we’ve done it,” Jovvi pointed
out, the gentleness firming. “Exchanging information can’t possibly hurt, and on the plus side it’s something the testing authority doesn’t want us to do. It would be worth trying for that reason alone.”
“If you say so,” Tamrissa agreed with a sigh, sounding even more depressed than Rion himself felt. “But right now I’d like to ask—Rion, have you ever been here to the palace before?”
“Once or twice, many years ago,” Rion answered after the briefest hesitation. “Mother does happen to know some of the Blending, but exactly what the relationship is, I have no idea.”
And whatever it is, Rion thought, it wasn’t enough to keep someone from having him put in with a low class group of applicants. He’d done a lot of thinking during the hours just past, and he’d come to the inarguable conclusion that he could well lose Naran because of that fact. If he were still in his proper position he could hire people to search for her, as it was a virtual certainty that his peer equals involved in the competitions had not been cut off from their personal funds. But he had been, and the piddling few pieces of gold allowed him were all but useless.
Rion couldn’t yet see the palace from where he sat in the coach opposite Jovvi and Tamrissa, and was in no mood to turn around and look. The fact was that he would have stayed at the residence if that had been possible, partially in the hope that Naran would get in touch with him again. For the rest, he felt a great reluctance to be in a place where he just might run into someone he knew. His feelings of helplessness put him at a great disadvantage, but he would never again be the innocent fool he once was. If someone he knew came over to play the game of bait-the-victim, he’d probably cause a scene.