by Sharon Green
Clarion had rushed to her side and helped her to a couch, begging her all the while not to say that she would die. He would never be able to bear losing her, and would do anything if only she would return to her usual self. She’d rallied then and had made him swear that he would never look at or touch one of the serving girls again, and he’d been more than eager to give his word. Anything to keep from losing her…!
Well, he hadn’t lost her, but he also hadn’t been able to approach one of the serving girls ever again. Even if he’d wanted to break his word, Mother had always been right there to help him keep it. She’d also been right there the first and only time one of the girls of his own class had agreed to go driving with him, an excursion that had turned stiff and awkward. Mother had been the only one with anything to say, except for when the girl had asked to be taken home early. After that all the girls of his age group had avoided him, at the same time giving him the impression that they were laughing at him…
Mother had assured him that that was only his imagination, and then had gone on to explain why the girls avoided his company. She’d said the girls had quickly come to understand how high above them he stood, and didn’t dare aspire to such exalted heights. Perhaps one day he would find a woman worthy of him, but until that day arrived he could rest untroubled, secure in the knowledge that he still had his mother.
“But at the moment I don’t have Mother, and that girl feared being alone with me,” Clarion murmured, experiencing the oddest feelings. “I am a man and by myself in Gan Garee, and suddenly the possibilities are endless. I think I’ll bathe while I ponder my options.”
He chuckled as he rose from the chair, and wasn’t even more than mildly annoyed when he realized that without a personal manservant, he would have to unpack clean clothes for himself. He opened the trunk and took the first outfit to come to hand, each motion making him more and more aware of how badly he needed that bath. This would be another day he’d never forget, and certainly wasn’t any less unpleasant than the rest of those days.
After retracing his steps downstairs, Clarion got directions to the bath house from one of the servants. Stepping outside he saw a modestly pleasant garden ahead, with a side path to the left that led to his destination. His stroll hurried itself a bit as he neared the bath house, the prospect of submerging himself in soothing water even more attractive than the thought of food. He was certainly hungry enough, he decided as he entered the bath house, but that could wait until—
His thoughts broke off sharply and he came to a halt when he realized the bath house was occupied. He was completely unused to that circumstance, of course, since Mother had only bathed in the morning after breakfast, and the servants had all used their own, smaller, bath house. The man in the water started, as though Clarion’s entrance had awakened him from sleep, and then he frowned.
“Common courtesy suggests that you knock before comin’ into a bath house that’s occupied,” the stranger growled, his accent marking him as one of those who weren’t native to Gan Garee. “Or don’t you know what that sign on the door means?”
“There was no sign on the door, but common is certainly the proper word,” Clarion retorted, more than annoyed that the lout would speak to him so. “Your courtesy is very common, my man, but I haven’t the strength to argue with you. Nor do I intend to share that bath. I’m accustomed to bathing alone as a gentleman should, so you will take yourself out of there at once.”
“What if I decide I don’t want to get out of this bath,” the stranger returned almost immediately, looking Clarion over in a most insulting way. “You’d then have to decide between throwin’ me out and waitin’ until I was ready to go. I really wonder which one you’d choose.”
Clarion was enraged that this creature would dare to question his manhood, but rage didn’t carry him far enough back toward his usual store of strength. He’d simply expended too much of himself today, and there was no getting around it.
“A real gentleman makes his choices without being influenced by the lower classes,” Clarion rejoined stiffly, determined to make his position perfectly clear. “If I had the strength I’d make an issue of your crudity, but at the moment I’m too badly in need of that bathwater. Tomorrow, after I’ve had the opportunity to rest, we can discuss this matter again.”
Clarion saw startlement cover the stranger’s features before he turned and walked toward the towel cabinet, a reaction which was grimly satisfying. Bullies had thought to take amusement from him before, but the strength of his talent had always let him teach them a sharp lesson. They all knew better than to try themselves against someone they weren’t acquainted with, since it was always possible that a stranger might prove to be stronger than them. Clarion had shown that even the familiar face could be dangerous to antagonize, and had earned himself peace from harassment without having to appeal to Mother.
“I think I’ve been blind as well as insensitive,” the stranger’s voice came suddenly, no longer sounding mocking. “You’re an applicant just the way I am, and you’re too tired because you just passed your test. What did they do to force you to participate?”
“The Blending refused to listen to my mother’s very reasonable request,” Clarion answered, anger at the memory making him slam shut the cabinet door. He wasn’t sure why he’d responded to the fellow, unless it was because the man had actually apologized. And also sounded as unhappy about being there as Clarion felt… “Now they dare to threaten me with the unthinkable, but I refuse to be intimidated. I will find a way out of this insanity, and return to where I belong.”
“It looks like we have somethin’ in common after all,” the stranger said with grim agreement, standing up in the water. “I also intend goin’ back where I belong, so let’s talk later. I’m Vallant Ro, Water magic.”
“Lord Clarion Mardimil, Air magic,” Clarion responded, disliking the need to converse with a commoner as though he were an equal, but finding it easier than he’d thought it would be. In point of fact he was receiving more courtesy from this Ro stranger than he got from his own class brothers, and honor demanded that he respond in kind. “And yes, let us indeed compare notes later. Getting free of this horror would be worth any price. A pity it can’t be accomplished with gold.”
“What makes you think it can’t be?” Ro asked as he actually left the bath, ceding the possession of it without argument. The man was Clarion’s own size and must be at least as weary if he’d also passed his test, which he must have done in order to be there. Ro had a look about him that shouted of a familiarity with physical labor as well as being accustomed to command, and yet he’d still given up the bath water without needing to be forced to it. Clarion was even more impressed than surprised, and both feelings brought him to an attitude of indulgence which he’d never before experienced with an inferior.
“I never thought about offerin’ gold, which makes me feel like a fool,” Ro continued after banishing the water from his body and hair. “Since I can afford to pay any amount they care to name and everybody knows bribin’ is the largest industry here in Gan Garee, I wonder why I didn’t think of it.”
So the man wasn’t a copperless peasant after all. Clarion now felt a good deal more comfortable, especially since he’d discovered the perfectly logical reason behind his urge toward indulgence.
“Possibly you didn’t think of it because you dislike wasting your time,” Clarion answered, remembering his failure with a great deal of distaste. “I, on the other hand, must enjoy it immensely, as I spent much too much time engaged in the useless practice. If there’s an answer, it definitely lies elsewhere.”
“There has to be an answer,” Ro responded, looking as determined as Clarion felt. “High practitioners are all supposed to be willin’ to do the job, so those who are unwillin’ have to be let go at some point. That’s the point we need, as long as it isn’t one that involves dyin’…”
Clarion almost paused in his undressing, suddenly remembering how close he’d come to dying
. Somehow he hadn’t really believed in the possibility at the time, hadn’t considered his death something that could actually happen, but now… Looking back made him want to shudder with the realization of how close he’d come, and that in turn forced him to drop the last of his clothing and plunge into the water. At least it was as warm as it was supposed to be, and immediately began to warm the chill ice out of his blood.
“We’ll speak again later,” Ro said after a moment, and Clarion looked around to see that the other man was completely dressed. And rather than stand about gawking like some infantile voyeur, he added, “Enjoy your bath,” and simply left. Clarion made a sound of agreement to the suggestion, finding he no longer had the strength for conversation. What he needed was to unwind in the warmth of the water, letting it soothe away all tension and fear.
Choosing a molded area in the bath diagonally opposite the one Ro had used, Clarion submerged for a delicious moment then leaned back into the head brace. He hadn’t stopped to look for soap, but that could be done later. Right now he needed to soak the ache out of his bones…
Clarion fell asleep for a while, but not a long enough while. He was still tired when the sound of the door opening woke him, and he looked around to see another stranger entering. This one was dressed in what Clarion considered low-class farm fashion, and he apparently had no idea anyone else was in the bath house. He looked around at the cabinets ranged to the left of the door, and actually had to open each of them before he located the one with towels. Then he went back to the one with soap, and carefully withdrew a jar.
Clarion considered ordering the lout to wait outside until his own bath was finished, but memory of his conversation with Ro caused him to hold his tongue. Here was certainly another ally in the war to attain freedom, and Clarion was desperate enough to accept help from whatever source it might originate with.
“Good day to you, friend,” Clarion said as he sat up in the water, startling the lout into whirling around despite his carefully pleasant tone. “I’m sure you’re in need of this bathwater as badly as I was, so please don’t hesitate about coming right in.”
“I didn’t intend to hesitate,” the mudfoot answered, returning to removing the sacks he obviously considered clothing. “You startled me because I thought the bath house was empty, but it isn’t as if I’ve never used a bath house before. Our town has a large one for the use of the public, and week’s end night usually had the place filled to capacity.”
“You’ve used a public bath house?” Clarion blurted, unable to help himself. “With crowds present? But surely your own home had a bath house?”
“In summer we used the creek’s swimming hole, and in winter we used a tub in the kitchen,” the mudfoot answered with a shrug as he made for the water. “What’s the difference where you bathe, as long as you come out clean?”
Clarion couldn’t answer that question, not in any words the mudfoot was likely to understand. It made a good deal of difference where one bathed, and anyone capable of questioning that truth would certainly be incapable of comprehending it. Instead of continuing with the subject, Clarion waited until the lout had settled himself in the place Ro had vacated, and then he spoke more to the point.
“I assume you’re weary because of what was necessary to pass your test,” he said after clearing his throat, then borrowed the rest of Ro’s successful opening gambit. “What did they do to force you to participate? I’m Lord Clarion Mardimil, by the way. Air magic.”
“Lorand Coll, Earth magic,” the man responded, raising his head to frown at Clarion. “What do you mean, how was I forced? I didn’t have to be forced to participate, I wanted very much to try.”
“You want to be here?” Clarion demanded incredulously, finding it impossible to keep from rising to his feet. “Well, I don’t know why I’m surprised. Of course someone like you would be eager to fight for that nonsense, it’s worlds above anything you’re likely to get under any other circumstance. A pity they don’t believe in taking all their applicants from the lowest segment of our society.”
“At least I’m not from the useless segment of our society,” the lout had the nerve to rejoinder, his face darkened with anger as Clarion stalked past him on the way out of the water. “If I end up without a High position, I’ll still be able to contribute more than I use up. If you end up without one, all you’ll be able to do is go back to being a worthless sponge. If you suddenly lost all your mountains of gold, you’d starve to death in a week. Since I’d survive no matter what, I’d say you need to rethink your conclusion about which of us is really the lowest.”
Clarion was out of the water by then, and he refused to dignify the lout’s moronic claims by commenting. Instead he used air to force all the water from his body, finding that even so small an effort as that was nearly beyond him. He quickly used the towel on the bottoms of his feet and then dressed, still maintaining his silence. Of all the mindless, idiotic things to say, calling him low class and worthless! If he weren’t so tired, he’d show that lout exactly how worthless he was!
Fury took Clarion out of the bath house once he was fully dressed and had gathered up his soiled clothing. He also slammed the door behind him to punctuate his exit, and quickly strode back to the tiny accommodations he’d been forced to accept. He slammed that door as well, then hurled his soiled clothing away with every ounce of strength he had left. Calling him useless and worthless! Daring to question his ability to survive! Low class indeed!
Clarion stalked back and forth across the room countless times, fighting in vain to control his anger. It wasn’t true that he was useless, the lout simply didn’t understand. Those of his class had no need to justify their existence with crude manual labor, they were above such foolishness! And if the unthinkable happened and he and Mother did lose all their gold, he’d simply—why, he would just—
When the proper ending to his argument refused to come, Clarion discovered that he’d also stopped pacing. He didn’t know what he would do if he no longer had Mother’s gold behind him, but he’d do something. He was a gentleman of quality, and that lout had had no right to question his worth. Why, he’d passed that first test, hadn’t he? That proved clearly enough what he was capable of, even though he’d had to use his talent to do it. The talent was his, after all, and no one had given it to him…
But the mudfoot had come far too close to thoughts of doubt that Clarion himself had had from time to time. When Mother had occasionally gone away without him, leaving him with a few of the male servants to see to his needs, he’d sometimes wondered what would become of him if she never returned. He had no idea where her funds came from, or how much was actually there. All he knew how to do was draw his allowance from the bank, that and how to spend it. If Mother had failed to return he would have been completely on his own, without support and companionship, without funds, and without the ability to care for himself. Useless…
Clarion threw himself into a chair and covered his eyes with his palms, struggling with all his might to force those horrid thoughts away. He didn’t want to be where he was, bowing to the demands of others and risking his life at their whim, but perhaps this was the answer to his dilemma. If he did qualify as a High practitioner, he would have a career if he needed or wanted it, one that no one without greater talent could deny him. Yes … that might be the best way to handle the matter.
Clarion lowered his arms to the chair’s armrests, but didn’t open his eyes. He was too tired, and now felt a good deal more at peace. He would continue to search for a way out of the trap of having to compete, but in the interim would make a point of showing what he could do. That way the choice of direction in his life would be his rather than everyone else’s… Yes, that was the way…
As he drifted off to sleep again, he was only distantly surprised that his glimpses of the future included women who were definitely not Mother…
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lorand stared at his still-incomplete stairway of earth, trying to figure out ho
w to handle the increased flow of soil that now poured down. Pulling in more power was out of the question, not when he was so tired. But he’d have to do something. The stronger flow of earth threatened to knock down the steps he’d already built, not to mention trying to bury him where he stood. He’d have to protect both himself and the steps, but his strength was failing almost by the minute.
He stewed mentally for another long moment, then could have kicked himself when the obvious answer came. If he stood on the stairway, he could protect both the stairs and himself with the same effort. Cursing himself under his breath, Lorand carefully mounted the first step then put his left foot on the second step. The treads were too narrow to hold both of his feet and he wobbled a moment getting his balance, but then he had it.
Combining the two shields against the falling earth was easier, and after clearing the air immediately around him of dust, Lorand took a minute to rest. He’d pictured building his stairway all the way up to that small wooden window-door, but by now he knew it wasn’t going to happen. The strain of holding the stairs together—along with everything else—was getting to be too much, so as soon as he could actually reach the window-door he’d try to get through it.
The rapidly falling earth was now coming through in enough quantity to let Lorand hurry his building job a little. He formed another three steps of the same size as the first five, and then decided to try his luck. Every minute of delay meant a little less strength, and it would be stupid to wait until he was reduced to crawling. Not that he didn’t feel like crawling right now…
Pushing that thought aside, Lorand began to climb his stairway to its top where he then had to walk the top tread like an Aerialist, one foot in front of the other while he maintained his balance. The shield against the falling earth kept him from being knocked off, and when he reached the wall he found that his face now looked directly at that window-door.