Challenges

by Sharon Green

  “We’re probably heading for hot water at that,” Jovvi murmured back, watching the first group being led out the wide doors which had been opened on the arena side. “If there’s a delay in bringing out our opponents, guess who will be stuck out there in the sun.”

  “If there’s a delay of more than ten minutes, we’ll just have to lead everyone back in here where it’s cool,” Tamma replied with a small shrug. “Letting them get away with something like that after everything else would be stupid, so we just won’t do it. You know, I’m glad we decided to bring two flasks each. They balance each other nicely where they’re hung under my robes.”

  Jovvi nodded with a sigh, feeling the same not only about the flasks. Tamma was right about not letting the nobility get away with any more nonsense, but the entire situation touched Jovvi badly. There were pitfalls all around them, and if they happened to stumble into the wrong one…

  The line moved fairly rapidly, and from the very first it was possible to hear the cheering and shouting of the people in the tiers. The noise they made was more than deafening; it was possible to feel their vocal excitement vibrating in your bones, and Jovvi knew she wasn’t the only one experiencing that. Everyone seemed to be rubbing their ears or shaking their heads sharply, not to mention rubbing their arms.

  But the closer they got to the open doors, the easier it became to stand the noise. That might have been because they were moving out of line with the worst of the area’s echoes, but whatever the reason it came as a great relief. Then it was their turn to step outside, and the ocean of noise struck like waves during a terrible storm. There were thousands of people in the tiers, and their combined voice was very much like a descending curtain of stone.

  Jovvi and the others—and their escorting noble—plodded heavily across the scattering of gray sand, but every step they took proved easier than the one before. Getting farther out into the open was helping, but then Jovvi noticed that the sand was getting deeper. Not too deep to keep them from walking across it easily, but deep enough to cover the ground thoroughly. They were led to a place at least thirty feet away from the next nearest group, Ophin wished them good luck, and then they were left on their own.

  “I hadn’t realized how huge this place is,” Lorand said as he surreptitiously looked around. “No wonder we can barely hear ourselves thinking. There must be ten thousand people out there.”

  “I’d estimate more than that,” Rion said, also looking about in the same way. “And I would also guess that more than five pairs of Blendings are meant to compete here, but they’ve spread us out to disguise that fact. It’s likely that the number of contenders now depends upon how many Blendings my former peers are able to muster.”

  “I’ll take a big chance by goin’ along with that theory,” Vallant agreed dryly. “Do you remember what Lorand said some time back, about the nobles limitin’ themselves by not insistin’ that their offspring compete fairly? Well, it’s occurred to me that they may have had no choice. If they didn’t have a good stock of strength to begin with, all the careful breedin’ in the world couldn’t give it to them.”

  “So that’s the reason they do all these things, not an excuse for it,” Tamma said, just as dryly as well as impatiently. “If you can’t do the job, you’re supposed to get out of the way of someone else who can, but these … these … bloodsuckers refuse to let go. They intend to hang on just as long as they possibly can, and if they aren’t stopped now they just might accomplish their aim forever—or until there are none of them left.”

  “I’m more worried about there being none of us left,” Jovvi put in, having no intentions of calming Tamma. They would need her anger badly in just a few short minutes… “And speak of the aspect, here comes the first of our opponents. Now it looks as though they had our side come out first because of the noise. Why subject their people to all that cheering and yelling, when sending them out second spares them?”

  What Jovvi had said wasn’t meant as sarcasm, only as an easily observable fact. At the appearance of the first noble Blending, the crowd noise quieted as if by magic. A few voices here and there shouted and yelled as though in an effort to sustain the cheering, but the effort failed. Those commoners in the audience had no interest in showing support for members of the privileged class, and the nobles’ own supporters were undoubtedly much too good to make a spectacle of themselves.

  Jovvi joined everyone else in watching the opposing groups take their places, a good thirty feet away from the first arrivals. That still left a lot of unused room in the amphitheater arena, but some of it was used at least for a short time. A small group came out to stand in the very center of the area, one of the men stepping out to stand in front of the others.

  “In a few short moments it will be precisely noon,” the white-haired but robust-looking man said, and Jovvi had the impression that everyone in the amphitheater was able to hear him as clearly as she did. “When that moment arrives, the giant torches on two sides of this arena will be ignited at the same time. That will be the signal to begin, and we wish all our brave competitors the best of luck.”

  He turned and rejoined his party then, and they all exited to the sound of polite applause. There was also a growing murmur of excitement, despite the fact that most people seemed to have no idea about who had spoken. Jovvi didn’t know either, but Rion’s surprise took her attention.

  “Rion, do you know who that was?” she asked. “He seemed to be a noble, but there was something … different about him.”

  “Something very different,” Rion agreed, nodding his hooded head slowly. “That was Advisor Zolind Maylock, the most powerful of all the Advisors. He’s such an important and influential a man, that almost no one beyond his own circle of associates and acquaintances knows him. Mother pointed him out to me once, but when she tried to speak to him he snubbed her. To this day she probably hasn’t forgiven him for that.”

  “Well, at least she and I agree on that one point,” Jovvi said, watching Advisor Zolind disappear under the tiers on the opposite side of the amphitheater. “I’ve never believed in forgiving a snub either, but that isn’t very important right now. Those torches ought to be set off any moment, so we’d better prepare ourselves.”

  Everyone heard and understood the suggestion, which was something they’d discussed the day before. From what everyone had said about Blending, the nobles apparently believed that the initial formation was necessary every time if a Blending was to take place. From what Jovvi and the others had learned during practice, that wasn’t even close to the truth. But if that was what the nobility believed, it would be foolish to disillusion them.

  So they all took their proper formation positions, Jovvi noticing in passing that the closest commoner groups were doing the same. There couldn’t be more than a minute left before full noon, and that made Jovvi uneasy. The nobles thirty feet away were already in their formation, and their unmoving postures were disturbing. If they were already Blended and poised to attack the instant the torches were lit…

  Thinking about it any longer would have been idiotic, therefore Jovvi immediately initiated the connection with the others. They responded even more quickly than usual, and this time there was no reason to hold back from a complete merging. Jovvi went from one-of-five to a single entity so quickly that she would have blinked if she’d still been in her body.

  But the entity had no body, nothing more than the five forms of flesh left behind when it emerged. It gloried in being whole and free again, felt delighted that it would no longer be held back—and then two things happened at once. The first was a double burst of flame shooting up from two places at the top of the amphitheater, and the second was an immediate attack by the entity formed of the beings thirty feet away.

  The entity wasn’t in the least surprised at being attacked without warning, and because of that its reactions weren’t delayed in any way. It immediately defended itself from the ravening flames billowing toward it, flames which were backed by a stren
gth that seemed somewhat reserved. The enemy appeared to be cautious even in attack, a theory noted in passing.

  But observation and theorizing also did nothing to keep the entity from responding. The part of itself that was ever on guard had thrown up a shield against the flames, and now thirsted to attack in turn. Attack was also the entity’s desire, of course, but curiosity held it back. This direct enemy had been presented as the best of all the enemy entities, and the entity wished to know exactly how it was best.

  For that reason it reached toward the enemy with all of its abilities. It snatched away air and deluged with water, then removed the water and sent sand-filled air. The enemy responded to each of the moves, but so slowly and awkwardly that it might as well not have bothered. It was then that the entity realized the truth: the enemy wasn’t being cautious, it merely had very little strength to use. It also seemed less than adequately Blended, another flaw it had no hope of overcoming.

  Those were the answers, then, the entity thought. The enemy couldn’t possibly be the best in any group, therefore those who believed the lie were sadly misguided and mistaken. It was now necessary to correct the error in apprehension, and in a way that would leave no doubt of the truth.

  So the entity reached out with the most spectacularly deadly of all its abilities. Yellow-orange flames flared into being all around the enemy, which was still in the midst of being distracted by the previous testing probes. The white coverings of its fleshly forms burst into flame first, distracting the enemy even further. The enemy entity should have responded in some way, made some effort at defense, but instead it disappeared, leaving nothing but the individuals who had birthed it.

  And those individuals were completely incapable of defending themselves against the attack. Water magic attempted to douse the flames, but was halted by the entity’s superior strength. Air magic also made a feeble attempt, as did Earth magic and Fire magic, but the screaming and fear flowing from their individual forms hampered their efforts even more. Even together they’d been no match for the entity; as individuals, their frantic efforts reached a peak and then ceased altogether. The forms had fallen to the sand, and now lay smoldering and smoking.

  The entity watched dispassionately as its enemy became no more, and a trace of disgusted annoyance fleeted through it. Those inadequate forms should never have been set against it, not when it was so much stronger and more able. They had been sacrificed for no purpose, soiling the entity by turning it into an executioner. The sense of dishonor and anger was intense…

  And then it was Jovvi again, feeling the same anger their Blended selves had felt. Those nobles had been pitiful, and they’d died for nothing—except, obviously, to ease the fear of their superiors. Why choose a Blending that can do something, when you can slip one in that will never be a danger to you…

  “Look,” Tamma said quietly, surprise rippling her own anger. “I’d say we aren’t the only ones who were set against inadequate opponents.”

  Jovvi turned her head to see what Tamma meant, and it all became immediately clear. The confrontation itself couldn’t have lasted more than a minute or two, not for them and not for the others. Of the five contending sets of Blendings, four of the five noble groups were at the very least down, most of them apparently dead.

  Four common Blendings stood victorious in the first round, and the audience in the tiers began to scream and applaud like mad people…

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  “… total disaster!” Delin heard as he and the others were escorted back into the vast gathering area beneath the tiers. “Don’t you realize that the next Seated Blending is dead? Find out how this happened! Find that fool Twimmal, who seems to have disappeared! I want the ones responsible dragged in front of me in chains!”

  The man ranting and raving was High Lord Embisson Ruhl, and Delin was fascinated to see that he was nearly foaming at the mouth. He screamed at the people around him, of course, most of whom were pale and unsteady. As was to be expected…

  “Finding out the identity of those responsible is secondary right now,” another, calmer voice intervened, the voice of Advisor Zolind Maylock. “Our first concern is deciding what to do about this fiasco, what we’re willing to do and what we can do. One point I’m able to speak for my associates on is that we will not tolerate having commoners on the Fivefold Throne.”

  “Then your only other option is to back our group,” Kambil put in with light friendliness, drawing everyone’s immediate attention. “We do happen to be the only noble Blending remaining, but as long as we survive, all is far from lost.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Advisor Zolind countered, his voice quiet and showing nothing of emotion. “But since we discuss the matter, I’d be interested to know how you managed to survive when the others didn’t.”

  “Possibly it was because our opponents were so poor,” Kambil replied with a shrug of innocence that made Delin want to laugh. “They were barely able to Blend, and we had the distinct impression that they hadn’t practiced much, if at all. Their strength was certainly adequate, but they had no idea what to do with it.”

  “Whereas you knew exactly what to do with yours,” Zolind responded flatly, the expression in his eyes one of extreme unhappiness. “I now recall that your opponents were changed at the last moment, as a … favor to one of your number. We seem to have done you a larger favor than was intended, which means you may be correct about the options at my disposal. In any event our general plan has to be changed now, and it must be done quickly. If we try to delay tomorrow’s competitions, that rabble out there will tear the city apart.”

  “My Lord Embisson!” a different voice came, and Delin looked around to see Lord Simin Dolf hurrying over—with an escort. From the pallor on Dolf’s face, it was clear that he’d never have come without the escort.

  “My Lord Embisson, I have no idea what’s going on!” Dolf babbled as he reached his furious superior, his hands shaking visibly. “I did as I was instructed to do, and then I retired to see to … some private matters. The next thing I knew I was being accosted by these … these … glorified guardsmen, and dragged to this side of the amphitheater. I don’t know why, but … where are the rest of our Blendings?”

  “They’re dead or dying, you incredible fool!” Lord Embisson snarled, glaring at his victim. “If you had done as you were instructed to, that would not be the case. And the chosen Blending would certainly not also be dead! I should have known better than to believe you’d gotten your womanizing under control! Your brother was obviously willing to swear to anything, and I—”

  “No, my lord, please, that isn’t so!” Dolf interrupted with bottomless desperation, now actually wringing his hands. “I keyed the peasants personally, not just the ones who would be facing the chosen Blending, but also a second group decided on at random! They all responded properly, so I know it worked! If something happened after that, it can’t possibly be considered my fault!”

  “I see,” Lord Embisson replied with a nod, his voice now low and deadly. “We’re to take your word for the fact that you keyed the peasants and they responded properly, and so we’re to look elsewhere for the one who is responsible for this disaster. Well, Lord Simin, you wanted this position so badly that you had your brother pull strings and reclaim favors, so now you have it—along with the responsibility for its failure. Take this man away, and make sure that I never lay eyes on him again.”

  Dolf screamed as the members of Lord Embisson’s private guard dragged him off, the sound echoing eerily through the heavy silence in the vast area. Lord Embisson had handed down his judgment, and no one would ever see Simin Dolf again. Delin exchanged a glance with Kambil, both of them knowing they had to talk privately. The peasants facing Adriari’s group had obviously found a way to make use of the keying phrase Delin had sent them, but had they actually been so stupid as to share the information with their fellow peasants…?

  “All right,” Advisor Zolind said once Dolf had been dragged away, on
ce again capturing everyone’s immediate attention. “I’ve come to a decision but I warn you that it’s tentative, and it will remain so until I’m much more firmly convinced about this course of action. Your group and mine will have to have a long, serious talk this afternoon, but for the moment I’m prepared to make an offer.”

  If Kambil had made any sort of flippant reply to that, Delin would certainly have killed him on the spot. Delin’s stomach was in so many knots that it was a miracle he could stand, and apparently the difficulty was shared, to some extent at least, by Kambil. The Spirit magic user retained his life by remaining silent, as did the others in the group, and Zolind nodded grudging approval.

  “At least you’re wise enough to listen rather than talk,” the old man said. “That’s an encouraging sign, and will also be discussed between us later. For now, I tell you without guile that my support must be earned. You will be required to compete tomorrow as well as the following day, and not simply compete but triumph. Should you join your peers in death, my support will do you no good whatsoever.”

  “The point can’t be argued,” Kambil responded with a faint smile, “and your offer is fair. All things of value must be paid for, most often with something other than gold. Our group is prepared to make that payment, and we will be honored to join you for a discussion later today.”

  “A good beginning,” Zolind allowed, his expression unchanging. “Have them take you back to your residence, and we’ll meet later when I’m able to get away.”

  Delin joined everyone else in bowing before they withdrew from Zolind’s presence, but the knots of his insides had changed in nature to smoldering nodes of fury. The miserable old man acted as though he were doing them a favor, when the obvious truth was that he had no choice but to back them. The way the peasants had swept the field had come as a great surprise to Delin and his group, but it had also been a delightful surprise. They were now the only nobly born contestants left, with no one of their own class to oppose them…