by Sharon Green
“Those in your session have been determined since they first arrived,” Hestir responded with a dismissive laugh. “We’ve learned over the years that those who don’t qualify by the third session at the latest usually don’t ever manage it. There was one once, about nine years ago, who finally forced himself into qualifying at the last moment. Nothing came of it, though, since he couldn’t quite get himself together for the competitions. But enough idle chatter, something I’m quite marvelous at. We’ll start the tour over there.”
“Over there” was an area to the extreme left, a large one with comfortable chairs surrounding a core of tables and chairs obviously meant to be used for meals or snacks. There were a few people moving around some of the areas, but this one was empty.
“When the others arrive, some of them will stop here for another cup of tea before beginning practice,” Hestir said, the words more conversational than lecturing. “Behind that wall is a cooking area and a place for the servants, as those of us in this section take our lunch here. If you want a servant and there aren’t any about, just ring that bell and one will come out from behind the wall.”
Hestir had pointed to a small cowbell hanging from one of the posts by a rope, another length of rope available to ring it with. Lorand nodded as though ringing for a servant was the most usual and unimportant thing in his life, and Hestir smiled.
“Now, over here is our very first practice area,” he said, leading the way to a series of smallish sections surrounded by smoky resin. “It’s what you’ll use to begin with, before you start the first of the competitions, but please don’t confuse it with a warm-up area. Those are arranged around the sections devoted to interactive competition, between that and the individual competition area.”
“There are different kinds of competitions?” Lorand asked, surprised enough to stop where he was. “For some reason I thought there would be only one.”
“A common enough mistake, and one I made myself in the beginning,” Hestir said with a chuckle, stopping with him. “It takes a moment to realize that there are different parts to our aspect, more parts, in fact, than with any of the others. We must prove our strength in all of those parts, as well as in the two methods every aspect uses. The first method is, of course, competing with another applicant to show strength and speed. The first to complete the assigned chore is the winner.”
“Like in a foot race,” Lorand said with a thoughtful nod. “That must be the individual competition you mentioned. But that has to mean the interactive competitions pit us directly against each other. Don’t you lose a large number of applicants that way?”
“Only the hopelessly incompetent ones,” Hestir replied, obviously amused by that thought as well. “One of the things you must learn is how to shield yourself from the products of your own aspect. Any fool off the street can attack with his aspect, the strength of the attack depending upon the fool’s own strength. But to defend with your ability—Ah, that takes imagination and a sense for planning as well as strength. Let’s take a look at the first practice area now, shall we?”
Lorand nodded even as he tried to swallow against the roiling feeling in his middle. He’d wanted to ask about where the positive parts of his aspect came in, the ones you didn’t use for something like attack or defense against attack, but asking something like that would have made him look naive, which could end up being a very bad mistake among these people. Predators think of the naive as prey, and even the round, overly pleasant Hestir was more wolf than sheep.
“Oh, goodness, the morning sun is in that uncomfortable part of the sky again,” Hestir exclaimed when they stepped into the first area. The sun was between two stands of trees visible in the distance, and glaring as only an early-morning sun on a soon-to-be warm day can. With nothing but empty air to block the sight of it, even squinting didn’t help much.
“I think we need to do something about that,” Hestir said in a way that made Lorand instantly suspicious. “Now let me see, what can that something be? Well, how about this.”
Hestir had been looking at a mound of clumped-together soil, the only thing to be seen in the area. The next moment the mound—exploded!—throwing a fine mist of soil into the air. The sun’s glare was blocked out, of course, at least until the mist began to settle down again.
“Please note that the dispersal was contained, and didn’t go beyond this area,” Hestir said while Lorand stared, at the same time working automatically to keep the dust out of the volume of air he currently breathed. “That’s the first thing you must practice, control of the material you touch with your ability. If even one grain of soil ends up outside this area, you haven’t yet perfected your control.”
Lorand nodded again, realizing that Hestir was telling him about doing two things at once. Well, he’d done more than two things at once during that test, but he’d never actually exploded anything…
“We’ll have to let the dust settle before you can try it yourself,” Hestir said, chuckling at his little joke. “During that time I’ll show you the other areas. Come along now.”
Lorand was about to ask why they didn’t simply gather the soil back into its original mound, then dismissed the question. Hestir was undoubtedly too important to spend his time and talent on a menial chore like that, especially when there were other areas to be shown. So Lorand simply followed the other man, then stopped beside him in the second area. Instead of soil, this place held a small mound of iron ingots. Each ingot was about two inches square, and Hestir pointed to one lying a couple of feet away from the mound.
“I’m going to do the same thing to that ingot that I did to the soil, but not as spectacularly,” he said. “Watch and see what I mean.”
It was still necessary to squint against the sun’s glare, but that didn’t stop Lorand from seeing the way the ingot began to come apart. It crumbled into small chunks from one end to the other, uneven chunks that rocked a bit before lying still.
“And that’s all there is to it,” Hestir said, this time pretending nonchalance. Lorand had been able to feel his effort, which hadn’t been minimal. “Do you think you can manage that?”
“I guess I’ll have to try it and see,” Lorand replied, working now to sound self-effacing. He wasn’t about to mention that a bent nail was useless on a farm, but did rather well as a prop for a boy to impress the girls with. He’d be able to take that ingot apart a lot faster and more thoroughly than Hestir had—but not while the man watched. There was no sense in making accidental enemies, not in a place like that.
“Good man, that’s the spirit,” Hestir enthused, his broad smile back. “A willingness to try means everything, and is usually the difference between success and failure. Let’s go on to the next area.”
The third area contained a small-meshed cage filled with rats, well-fed rats by the look of them. Lorand didn’t have the usual farm-bred hatred of rats, nor did he fear them as some people did. He understood that their depredations were the result of their will to survive, and had never tried to hurt them unless his own survival—or his family’s—had been at stake.
“Now, here we’re looking for something else entirely,” Hestir said, just saving Lorand from making a fool of himself by refusing to take apart the rats. “Once again it’s a matter of control dominating strength, as the rats aren’t to be harmed. Here’s what you have to learn to do.”
Lorand felt Hestir begin to exert himself again, and then the rats began to move away from the center of the cage. They didn’t go willingly or easily, but at last there was a cleared space in the middle. After a moment there was movement among the rats to the right, and then a single rat came slowly and reluctantly into the cleared space. It stood alone only for a brief moment, and then all the rats were running around freely again.
“So you see,” Hestir said, breathing somewhat heavily. “First the entire group must be induced to clear the center of the cage, and then one rat must be returned to stand alone. This, in a manner of speaking, is like Encouragemen
t, but considerably more specific.”
“Yes, a lot more specific,” Lorand agreed, considering the matter. “I have experience with Encouragement, of course … but what is something like this for? How can it possibly be useful to a High practitioner?”
“That’s something you’ll find out if and when you become a High practitioner,” Hestir said easily, dismissing the idea. “We lesser mortals don’t need to be told, we only need to learn what we’re instructed to. And remember, the rats aren’t to be harmed.”
When Lorand shrugged and nodded, Hestir smiled again and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Good man,” he said, clearly approving. “Now, once you’ve mastered these three exercises, there will be more of a different sort for you to work at. I’ll show you one or two of those, and then you’ll begin at the beginning. The ones beyond here are simply variations of the first three, so please don’t spend your time worrying about any hidden surprises.”
“What I will be spending my time on is wondering how long it will take to reach the competitions,” Lorand said, working to put the sort of upper class pettishness you sometimes heard from Mardimil in his own voice. “It’s rather tiring, but all our funds have been depleted and we’ll soon need to pay for our food or starve. That was told us right at the beginning, and the next payment time draws uncomfortably near.”
“Oh, that’s not something to worry about immediately,” Hestir said with a deprecating gesture. “You’ll be given a silver din for each of the first three areas you master, and two for each of the areas after those. By that time you’ll have reached the competitions, and will be ready to win yourself some gold. So let’s continue on, and then you’ll be able to begin.”
This time Lorand followed with a bit more eagerness, more than ready to begin. The only one of the first three areas he expected to have to practice was the first, and even that shouldn’t take much time to master. Depending on what the next areas held, he could well be at the competitions before he knew it! If he had stacks of gold to offer Jovvi even before the matter of a High position became immediate, he might have a chance to change her mind.
“I won’t demonstrate these next exercises,” Hestir said, drawing Lorand from his thoughts. “They’re either too messy for anything less than serious practice, or would require a replacement for some part or parts of what you must work with. This first, as you can see, is a large kettle of thick black liquid that doesn’t smell very nice at all.”
“It looks a bit like axle grease and even smells like it, but it’s not as thick,” Lorand observed, studying the large kettle where it stood in the center of the area. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
“The same thing I did with the soil, dear boy,” Hestir replied with a wave of his hand. “This liquid comes from the earth, and therefore falls under our aspect. It’s considerably more difficult to scatter liquid, but practice will soon see you doing it. Now, in this next area is a simple arrangement of wooden wheels, but there’s a section of metal on the inside holding it all together. Can you feel the metal?”
“Yes,” Lorand answered with a frown. “But the metal is steel, not iron. You aren’t going to tell me I have to take steel apart!”
“Nothing less, dear boy,” Hestir confirmed with a grin. “And how clever of you to tell that it’s steel. Many of the applicants coming through aren’t able to discriminate that clearly. I expect you’ll do very well indeed here, and I’ll have been the first to realize that. Oh, and when you’re ready to go beyond the first three areas, be sure to ask for the presence of an Adept before you begin. Each mastery must be verified by one of us, and if we’re not there to see it you’ll just have to do it all over again. Let’s pause for a cup of tea, and then I’ll leave you to it.”
Lorand let himself be bustled out of the area and back toward where they’d started from, his elation of a moment before now gone beneath depression. The first three areas would be very little trouble for him, but the next ones would hardly be the same. Scattering that liquid would come under his aspect rather than under Water, since there wasn’t any water in it. But handling something like that… And steel. Were they serious about expecting him to be able to pick apart steel as easily as he did iron?
Hestir chattered on about nothing important as they walked toward the eating area, but Lorand wasn’t fooled. The round, smaller man was trying to distract him from the fact that the Adept hadn’t demonstrated those last two exercises because he couldn’t. Hestir worked for the testing authority and was allowed to call himself an Adept, but in reality he wasn’t very powerful. He must have qualified for the competitions in his day just as Lorand had in the last two, but he hadn’t gone much beyond that.
So the question was, just how far would he go? How many of all the people who came here actually made it into the competitions? And there weren’t that many Adepts. If you didn’t make it and they had all the Adepts they needed, what then? What became of all those potential Highs who simply reached their limit?
And if you needed so much talent just to reach the competitions, what would it be like to challenge a Seated High…?
CHAPTER FORTY
Jovvi let herself be helped into the coach after Tamrissa, feeling disturbed over more than just her own personal problems. She and Lorand were leagues apart in how they viewed the necessities of life, but it would be a while before their differences actually drove them apart completely. Tamma and Vallant were another story, however, and their pain was so strong Jovvi could have woven with it.
So once the coach began to move she said, “He wasn’t lying, you know. I was there last night when he reminded that woman to her face that they’d never been engaged and that their relationship had ended before he left for Gan Garee. He also called your father some rather interesting names, then threw them both out. Your father threatened to take him to court, and he told him to go ahead and do it.”
Jovvi felt a faint sense of pleasure in Tamma over that, but not so much that it changed anything.
“Whether or not he was lying doesn’t matter,” Tamma replied after a moment, looking out the window rather than at Jovvi. “He never said a word about that woman which let my father use her against me. I can’t afford to give my father any more routes into my mind than he already has, so Dom Ro can find some other woman to charm. I’m sure the one last night was only a single representative of the hundreds he’s gone through.”
“You’re blaming him for being a healthy man?” Jovvi asked with a frown. “He never told you he’d grown up in a barrel, and you had no right to think that he had. He really cares about you, Tamma, and wants your trust more than almost anything.”
“How can I trust someone who makes me more vulnerable so easily?” she asked, her gaze still firmly out the window. “He has no idea what I’m up against, and no real idea what I’ll have to face if I lose. If someone makes you weaker rather than stronger, you’re a fool to let them anywhere close. Besides, there are more important things to think about now, including whether or not we’ll survive. We don’t all have to, you know.”
That suggestion chilled Jovvi so thoroughly that she let the subject drop. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t realized it herself at some level, she simply hadn’t let herself think about it. Now she had to, and the thought made her strangely ill. How had Lorand gone from being an ordinary, interesting man to someone whose survival was vitally important? Even if they never found a way to be together, she couldn’t bear the idea that he might not survive. There had to be a way, for all of them, and what she had to do was find it.
The decision in favor of action rather than sitting around waiting for something to happen made Jovvi feel better. She looked out her window to see that they seemed to be heading out of the city, across a bridge into an area that ought to be filled with the estates of the rich. Anywhere else it would be, but Gan Garee apparently had another use for the area. Odd that there weren’t estates and mansions anyway…
Or maybe not so odd. When they tur
ned onto a side road after the men’s coach in a relatively short while, Jovvi thought she understood. Either the testing authority had been permitted to claim the entire area for its own uses, or anyone with enough power and gold to build in the area knew better than to do it. They had to be close to where the competitions were being held, and no one with any sense would want something like that outside their back door. Accidents could happen even with her aspect, and some mistakes can never be repaired.
When they reached a road running parallel with a resin wall, the men’s coach turned left and theirs turned right. Tamrissa was the first to get out when the coach stopped beside a metal sign painted with the standard Fire magic symbol, but she didn’t simply leave. After a brief hesitation she put her hand over Jovvi’s and squeezed gently and reassuringly, and then she got out of the coach. She hadn’t met Jovvi’s gaze, but she had wished her luck.
Jovvi managed to return the squeeze before Tamma was gone, and then the coach continued on. It went quite a long distance, actually, before stopping beside a sign with the Spirit magic symbol. Jovvi discovered how reluctant she was to leave the coach when it came time to do it, but that didn’t stop her any more than it ever had. She’d learned that simple problems could sometimes be run away from, but the rest had to be faced and defeated before it was safe to turn and walk away.
Jovvi closed the coach door behind her and headed for the opening in the resin wall, preferring not to picture deputies of the testing authority pursuing her. And they would come in pursuit, that was absolutely sure in a world of uncertainties. They went to a lot of trouble and expense gathering in all potential Highs, so there was no chance at all that they would shrug and forget about any who tried to escape them. They had to be avoided in a different way, most likely through the exercise of aspect power.
But the question still remained: how much power would be considered too much, and how little too little? The entire situation screamed out a need for careful balance, but as Jovvi looked around at what lay behind the resin wall, she felt the frustration of not knowing where the balance point lay. That was the key to all balance, knowing where the balance point was; without knowing, stabbing around in the dark after a hidden enemy would be just as productive. Pure luck might bring you success, but relying on luck was notoriously unreliable…