by Sharon Green
“If we meet again, I’ll see that you do,” Vallant assured the man as they shook. “Most people back home have stories of their own to tell, so I always have to wait my turn. Take care, Ennis, and try to remember not to believe everythin’ you hear.”
Ennis laughed aloud at that, obviously remembering how he’d swallowed every tall tale Vallant had come up with at first, and then he went to climb back up on his coach. That left Vallant with nothing to do but head for those guardsmen, so he tightened his grip on his seabag and did just that.
“I’m told you need to see this stub,” Vallant said to the guardsmen when he reached them, handing over the item. “What would have happened if I’d thrown it away?”
“You would have spent more’n a week waiting for somebody to get here to identify you,” the guardsman answered neutrally as he handed back the stub. “You’d be long out of coin, livin’ on the street, an’ real hungry by then, but you’d still have to go through with the test. Use the second archway to the right of the one directly behind this gate, and give them the stub. They’ll tell you what to do next.”
Vallant grunted noncommittally and headed for the gate, glad he’d asked the question even if he hadn’t liked the answer. Without the ticket stub he wouldn’t have starved or had to live on the street, not when the bank his family used had its main office there in Gan Garee. It was the extra time he would have wasted that made him glad he hadn’t tossed away the means of identifying him when Ennis had first told him about it. The tickets of applicants for High were special and different, and that’s why those who were sent to Gan Garee weren’t left to buy their own.
The sun above him told Vallant it was just about noon, and the people hurrying in and out of the large building he walked toward seemed to be ready for lunch. Vallant had already eaten his at Ennis’s suggestion while they were still on the road. He’d bought the food at the roadhouse where they’d stopped for breakfast while the horses were being changed, and the sliced beef sandwich had been kept fresh because he’d thought to form and hold some ice around it.
He’d done the same for Ennis’s sandwich and the driver had returned the favor by heating both sandwiches and melting some cheese on them when he and Vallant had been ready to eat. Lucky Ennis’s coach guard had taken sick at the beginning of the run and hadn’t been replaced. That had let Vallant ride on top of the coach rather than leaving him cooped up inside…
The building was large on the inside as well, which came as a relief to Vallant. Small areas and crowded buildings tended to make him uncomfortable, especially when there was no easy access to the outside. His cabin aboard the Sea Queen wasn’t enormous, but it had large bow windows which he usually left wide open. This building didn’t have much in the way of windows, but its very high ceiling and open floor let Vallant ignore that fact as he walked up to the table a short distance from the archway he’d used to enter.
“I believe this is supposed to be given to you,” Vallant said to the man behind the table, once again handing over his ticket stub. “And I would also appreciate knowin’ how long I’ll be here. After a week on a coach seat, I could use some place stationary to stretch out for awhile.”
“They won’t be keeping you for any unreasonable amount of time, I’m sure,” the man answered with a glance and a smile as he went through a box filled with papers. “I’ll have your identity card filled out in just a minute, and then you’ll be able to get on with it.”
Vallant watched for not much more than the specified minute while the man wrote on a rectangle of heavy paper, attached a thin chain to the rectangle, then handed the combination to him with instructions to put it on. Vallant removed his cap before doing so, and by the time he’d replaced it there was a woman standing beside him.
“Vosin here will take you where you have to go,” the seated man said, gesturing toward the woman. “You must wear your identification at all times, and you have to hand over these papers when you reach your destination. Good day to you.”
The man was being polite about it, but Vallant knew a dismissal when he heard it. He looked for the woman who was supposed to guide him, and felt annoyed when he discovered her already on her way to the far side of the building. She kept going without a backward glance, and Vallant had to stretch his stride a bit in order to catch up with her. That was something of a surprise, since none of the inn and roadhouse girls along the way had been that unfriendly.
But he wasn’t here to involve himself with women after all. He was here to fail a test and then head home, so he followed along behind the pretty little thing without complaint. If he wondered what she might look like under that very plain gown she wore, it was only to give himself something to occupy his mind. So far his first trip to the legendary Gan Garee was even more boring than being becalmed.
The woman led Vallant out of the large building and across the outer walkway, obviously heading toward a group of oddlooking buildings standing in a circle a short distance away. They passed two of the buildings before the woman stopped, and the relatively small doorway she gestured to wasn’t particularly encouraging. But the door had the symbol for Water magic on the wall beside it, and it was standing open. That was enough to let Vallant walk inside, which he did without giving the woman more than one final glance. But she was already on her way back to the large building, so Vallant shrugged and forgot about her.
This smaller building immediately made Vallant uncomfortable, but not so much so that he was willing to show it. He walked up to another man seated at another table, and handed over the set of papers he’d been given.
“Good morning, sir,” the seated man said with a friendly smile as he took the papers. “You’ve obviously traveled quite a way to be here, so we’ll get right to the questions we have without delaying you very long. You can leave that bag here with me and go through the doorway on your far right, and they’ll take you to a place where you can sit down.”
Vallant tried not to hesitate very long before handing over his seabag, and a glance at the curtained doorway helped. Curtains were easy to go in and out of, and there were probably even windows in the room they would take him to. Ignoring the sweat beginning to bead his brow, Vallant went to the curtained doorway and through it. Beyond was a very narrow hallway, and if there hadn’t been three people in an alcove to the left, Vallant might well have turned and run out. But he couldn’t do that with people watching, especially since one of the three was a woman. He’d just have to grit his teeth and think about the windows the room he’d be taken to would have…
“Please follow me,” one of the men said, and began to lead the way up that horribly narrow hall. Vallant followed, giving all his attention to the man rather than what they walked through. And it wasn’t even a very long walk. In just a couple of minutes the man stopped and opened a door on the left, so Vallant immediately passed the man and plunged into the room. His breath wanted to come in gasps to match the whirling behind his eyes, but as soon as he found those windows he would be fine. He just had to shake his head hard enough to clear his vision…
And that turned out to be the biggest mistake yet. It took a moment for him to be able to see that room, but the first thing he noticed was the absence of windows. The room was fairly large and more than ordinarily high, with lamps burning in niches covered over with clear material. There was no sign of another door, and when Vallant turned back to the one he’d come in by, he found it closed. He lurched over to it, nearly frantic to get it open again, but there was nothing to hold to. He wanted to claw at the edge of it where it met the jamb, but there wasn’t room in between even for his fingernails.
“You can’t get out that way,” a voice said, making him whirl around. The man who had led him to that trap looked out of a small door he’d opened fairly high in the wall opposite, too far but of reach for Vallant to get his hands on him.
“Let me out of here,” Vallant demanded hoarsely, fighting to keep some vestige of control over himself. “Open this door and let m
e out now!”
“Finding a way out of that room is your job,” the man answered, his tone and attitude neutral rather than gloating. “This is your first test, and if you aren’t successful it will also be your last the last of everything, including your life. Work hard to find an answer, sir, for your life most certainly does depend on it. Good luck or goodbye.”
And then the man withdrew, an instant later pushing closed the small door he’d looked out through. Vallant shouted, demanding that he come back and explain himself, but the small door remained closed. The sweat of fear was so heavy on Vallant’s face that he had to wipe it off with his coat sleeve, at the same time struggling to understand what he’d been told. He had to find his own way out of there? But how could he, and what had the fool meant about his life being at stake?
That answer, unfortunately, was the first one given him when flames of fire suddenly erupted all around the circle of the room. Vallant reached automatically for whatever moisture was at hand, and found that the air was heavy with it. Somewhere close by was a rather large amount of water, a fact guaranteed by the heavily-laden air. He quickly gathered the moisture and used it to douse the nearest flames, then began to do the same with the rest of the ring of fire.
Began to. Vallant had only just gotten started with putting out the fires when the first of the flames began to burn again. Only this time they were somewhat closer to where he’d retreated to, the approximate center of the room. That had to mean the circle of fire would continue to tighten until it met inside him, and he would probably find it impossible to put out all of it. Even now sparks were beginning to fly at him, trying randomly to set him afire. He had to get out of that room in order to survive—not to mention stay sane—but how was he supposed to do that?
He stood with frantic intensity flaring all through his body, an ache already beginning in his muscles from the tension, a sickness deep inside his gut. In the name of everything right, how was he supposed to get himself out of there?
Now do you see what I meant when I said we all had a terrible time? There can’t be anyone reading this who doesn’t know we survived, but what it cost us to survive is another matter entirely. And not long after that was when we met, with not a single one of us at his or her best. The biggest surprise isn’t that we survived the tests, but that we all survived the meetings. Now let’s see, in what order did we finish those tests…?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I stood staring at the walls that slowly but steadily came toward me, almost too terrified to think. I really wasn’t in danger of being crushed, not with the U of metal in the way, so why had that man said I would die? Fail the test, yes, but die?
That was when a terrible thought occurred to me, so I moved over closer to that U and took a really good look at it. Sure enough it wasn’t made of steel the way I’d thought at first. It was made of some very light metal I wasn’t familiar with, which brought my terror back full force. It might keep those grinding walls apart for a time, but if they continued to push on it they would crush the U between them. I could feel that the metal wasn’t tempered with heat, which would have made it significantly stronger.
Which meant that I was in danger of being crushed, only not right away. I’d be able to stand there and watch the metal being destroyed, knowing my own destruction would come immediately thereafter. A shudder rippled through me, turning my knees weak, threatening to send me to the floor in the midst of swirling blackness. In just a few minutes I would die horribly, proving my parents had been right to believe I’d never pass this test…
And that thought, strangely enough, immediately began to give me back some control over myself. I hated the idea of my parents being right about anything that concerned me, knowing how scornful and demeaning their thoughts would be even while they were being told I was dead. They would also be furious that I’d escaped them, but that wasn’t the way I’d planned to escape. I wanted to be there to see their faces when they learned I was free, had to be there to see it, so there was only one thing I could do. Pass that test and survive.
But that was more easily decided than done. I put a trembling hand to my hair as I really looked around, my mind searching for ideas. I’d been thinking that nothing was possible, but that couldn’t be true. There had to be something, and the trick would be to find it. Maybe a closer look at the barred door would help…
I slid around the U of metal even though the moving walls weren’t close enough yet to be a real problem, and hurried over to the door. It was barred closed all right, but not with a metal as light as what the U was made of. In order to open the door the bar would have to be slid from the rings it had been run through, but there was no room on either side to do that. The bar would have to be cut in two places at the very least, and the only thing available to cut it would be my flames. It would take time and a lot of effort, but I suddenly began to think it might be possible.
That, of course, was when I remembered about those moving walls. I didn’t have a lot of time, especially since one end of the door seemed to have some mechanism to open it, and the ends of the door were what would be covered first by the walls. I had to stop those walls long enough to give me time to work on the door, but how was I supposed to do that? The walls and floor and ceiling were made of resin, and hardened resin can’t be affected by the Fire magic of one individual…
I came very close to giving up then, but the thought of allowing my parents to win came back to help stiffen my resolve again. It was possible to pass that test, so I just had to figure out what that way could be. My talent could get me through the door, but only if I stopped the walls long enough to give me the chance. But I couldn’t stop the walls, not in any way involving my talent, so what—
I’d been looking around frantically as I thought, and when the answer finally broke through my upset I felt really stupid. That U of light metal… There was no reason for it to be in the room unless it was part of the problem—or part of the solution. Since it did nothing to threaten it had to be there to help, and that line of thought led me to understand in what way. If I opened the U out into a straight line, it would stop the walls before they moved over the ends of the door.
But the walls would not be stopped easily and not for long. I took a shaky breath as my mind raced, trying to estimate time and strength factors. I would have to heat the light metal to a high enough temperature to change its shape, and then I would have to temper it to higher strength—but without water. Whether or not it would work was questionable, especially since I’d also have to cut through the bar on the door. After the horribly tiring day I’d had, would I have enough strength to do it? Maybe being dead would be enough of a triumph over my parents…
My hands turned to fists at my sides, telling me in no uncertain terms that being dead would not be enough. I had to survive and pass that test, but the self-doubts I’d been taught all my life would not help to accomplish it. I had to get beyond the doubts and stay there, and plunging right in might let me do that.
So I turned my attention and talent first to the U of metal. Reaching out with fingers of fire I began to caress it, following its shape and learning the feel of it as it now was. Even as I explored I heated my flames higher and higher, and after a moment I was able to detect the beginning of the change. Everything changes when fire is applied to it, and awareness of those changes is all part of learning your talent.
It has always amazed me how sensitive a sense of touch I have through my flames. I can feel the very texture of what I’m in the midst of burning, follow every stage of its change, sometimes even anticipate what will happen next. Now I could feel the metal under my flame-fingers begin to soften, the first step necessary in changing its shape.
By the time I had both arms of the U flattened down to a more or less straight line, the walls were almost up to them and I was close to drowning in sweat. I’d not only been exerting a lot of strength, I hadn’t been able to block all of the heat from my fire. Blocking it completely would have meant
losing contact and control, so the only real choice I had was to sweat. But I’d slowly been lowering the temperature of my flames and feeling the metal begin to harden again, so it was time to withdraw from that part of it.
I took a moment to rest then, using the time to check on the position of the walls and judge their rate of speed. They were still almost two feet away from the ends of my metal brace, and the longer they took to reach it, the cooler—and therefore harder—it would be. What I didn’t know was how long the brace would hold, how long it would take me to cut through the bar on the door, and whether or not I was wasting my time. If I’d guessed wrong about what the proper response to the test situation was…
But I couldn’t afford to spend effort doubting myself, not when there was so much left to do. I wiped the sweat from my eyes with the back of my right hand and turned to the door, then gave the bar my attention. Four cuts would make removing it effortless, but I might not have the time to make that many. The only thing I could do was start with the two most important cuts, and see how things went when they were done.
Concentrating my flames down to a very small point wasn’t something I’d done before, and in the process I learned why it wasn’t often done. It felt like compressing a living, squirming entity between my hands, balancing the need to keep it small but hot and the need to keep it alive. The flames actually almost fought me in that shape, but I had to concentrate them if the cutting wasn’t to take forever. Smaller and smaller but hotter and hotter would also keep the bar from melting and sealing me in, so it had to be done.
I was so deeply involved in cutting through the bar, that the arrival of the walls at the metal brace almost made me jump out of my skin. The first cut was about three-quarters done, but I left it to jump and whirl around at the thud-screech! from behind me. The thud had come from the walls hitting the ends of the brace, and the protesting screech came from whatever moved the walls. It disliked the idea of the walls having been stopped, and apparently announced its intention to change that state of affairs.