Except for now being able to wield substantially more power. He hadn’t been sure his ability would support the added strength, but he’d been too angry to consider any consequences other than success. And now that he’d found his success, it was time to teach two “Adepts” a lesson.
Rather than reach to the subjects again, Rion reached first toward Padril and Arnot. The men were too deeply immersed in their tampering to notice at first, but they certainly noticed when Rion surrounded them with their own sphere, then took away
their
air. After that he surrounded the six subjects just the way he was supposed to, and as they began to choke for the fourth time, Rion spoke without turning.
“One last minute, and then the final mastery will be mine as well,” he commented, knowing Padril and Arnot were able to hear him. “That certainly isn’t very long, so I’ll think about extending the period while I wait for the time to pass.”
The Adepts weren’t able to speak, of course, but Rion could feel the way they fought against his strength in an effort to escape. They weren’t all
that
weak which meant perspiration broke out on his brow from his efforts to resist, but once again success was his. He held all seven spheres intact and airless for the full required minute, and only then did he allow them freedom.
Rion had already turned to look at the Adepts, neither of whom was a pretty sight. Arnot stood with his shoulders braced against the wall, and Padril had gone to his knees, both with their teeth bared in their efforts to break free. Their abrupt release came like the unexpected snapping of a rope, causing Arnot to slide down the wall and Padril to go to all fours. Both men were pale and immediately began to gasp in air, giving Rion the opportunity to speak first.
“You now have my thanks for having tried to interfere with my advancement,” he told them coldly, noticing that they seemed to tremble from something other than the results of their ordeal. “If anything like this is ever tried with me again, no one will enjoy my immediate anger. Now let me hear you declare my fourth and final mastery.”
“Con—gratulations, sir—on achieving—the level of—master,” Padril quickly obliged, panting even in the midst of the words. He also studied the floor rather than look up at Rion, and being able to breathe hadn’t lessened his pallor. “Please—forgive us, sir, we were—under orders to—do as we—did. But you—triumphed anyway, and—in a moment I’ll—fetch your silver dins—and master’s bracelet.”
“Bring it to my table, where you’ll find me resting from my exertions,” Rion ordered, then he turned and walked out of the room. He’d first searched for his spider friend, having some vague idea about taking it outside where it might have a better chance to survive, but the spider had disappeared. Which was rather a lucky thing, as Rion was badly in need of the time to do some thinking.
The bright morning sunshine came as a surprise when Rion stepped outside, since he felt as if he’d spent hours if not the entire day in the practice building. He also felt as if he hadn’t eaten in almost that long, so he rang a bell for service before sitting at his table. The servant who quickly appeared took his order for food as well as fresh tea, and then Rion was able to lean back for a while.
And ask himself why the testing authority would try to hamper his efforts to move onward. That theory Holter had come up with, about the members of their residence having been arranged into a potential Blending; if the authority really did want them to compete as a Blending, why make such a strong effort to disqualify one of them?
The suggestion that it had been done because the authority wanted no one but the strongest and best to compete would probably be what they would claim, but Rion didn’t believe it. Despite the solid reasoning behind such a stance, something about it rang untrue. Their aim wasn’t to disqualify the unfit but to disqualify everyone possible, which explained why every ruling Blending for the last hundred years had come from the nobility. The testing authority had eliminated all real competition before the final confrontation came about.
“Excuse me, sir,” a voice interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up to see a trembling Padril standing there clutching something. “I have your eight silver dins and your master’s bracelet.”
The servant was also coming with his food and tea, so Rion put out a hand to Padril.
“Give me the dins, and then explain about this bracelet thing,” he ordered the Adept, making sure his tone was as cold as it had been. “And make sure your explanation leaves nothing out.”
“Yes, sir,” Padril responded at once, still looking gray from his ordeal. He handed over the dins and watched while the servant put the food and drink in front of Rion, but only glanced at one of the empty chairs at the table. He hadn’t been invited to sit, and obviously knew better than to try it anyway.
“The master’s bracelet takes the place of the applicant’s identification card,” Padril began as soon as the servant left. “It marks the wearer as a full participant, firmly beyond the level of applicant. There’s really nothing more to the matter, since it’s only a higher-status indicator.”
“And how many of those testing previously earned their higher status despite interference?” Rion put bluntly after sipping at his tea. “Some of them? Most of them?
All
of them?”
“Please, sir, you must understand how late in the year it is,” Padril whined, all but squirming in agitation where he stood. “It’s been our experience that those applicants with so short a time for practice rarely do anything more than get in the way of those who have an actual chance to attain the various positions. ‘Helping’ them to drop out does a service to both them and us.”
“Allow me to say that I don’t think much of your ‘service,’” Rion told him dryly, then waved a hand at him. “Go away now and allow me to eat in peace, but don’t go too far. I have questions about what happens next, and I’ll expect you to be available to answer them before I leave.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll be right over there,” Padril responded, indicating the table with the rest of his cronies. “Just raise your hand when you want me, and I’ll return immediately.”
When Rion nodded absently he scuttled away, looking as if he’d just narrowly escaped death. In a manner of speaking he had, for Rion knew that if he and Arnot had made the mistake of attacking him directly rather than just trying to block him, the end result of his efforts would have been a good deal less pleasant for them. He’d been victimized for enough of his life; from now on he meant to make up for that.
Rion picked up his sandwich and began to eat it, but his thoughts were on things other than food. He would have to be sure to discuss his suspicions with the others, to warn them that everything might not be as open and aboveboard as some of them believed. And then he’d be able to plan his visit to Naran, which he now had the silver to pay for. Naran … one day soon he would have gold to spend on her, and
no
one would be allowed to stand in his way,
no
one…
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lorand felt like a personal servant by the time he left the coach. First he’d had to wake up Mardimil when the coach reached his stop, and then he’d had to do the same for Ro. Both men had been deeply into their thoughts, but Ro had also seemed to be brooding. Holter had only been partially distracted, but enough so that Lorand had felt that he rode alone in the coach.
And it wasn’t as if he didn’t have his own things to brood about, he thought morosely as he left the coach. He’d wanted to talk to Jovvi again, and after the celebration broke up last night he’d managed to make it happen. He’d drawn her aside after everyone else had left, and had smiled down at her.
“So far things aren’t going too badly for me,” he’d said, trying to recapture the wonderful mood they’d shared when they first met. “Before you know it I’ll have gold and a really good chance to win in the competitions, and then we can start to plan our life together. Or, if you’d rather not wait, we can start the planning right now.”
“I really do like you, Lorand Coll,” she’d answered with a smile, putting one soft and shapely hand to his face in a gentle caress. “I knew at once that you would turn out to be someone who was important to me, and I’m not often wrong about things like that.” Then her smile had faded, and the hand was gone from his face. “But right now I think it’s time I went to bed.”
Lorand wanted to ask if he could join her there, but suddenly the suggestion seemed out of place.
“Jovvi, what’s wrong?” he asked instead, wishing he could take her in his arms. “Have I done something to offend you?”
“It isn’t you,” she replied with a headshake. “Or at least it isn’t you alone. How can we plan on anything at all, when we don’t even know what tomorrow will bring? A very large part of my childhood was filled with that kind of uncertainty, and I thought I’d fixed things so it would never happen again. Now it’s happening anyway, and every day it gets worse.”
“All the more reason for us to stay as close as possible,” Lorand had told her, taking her hand despite the presence of the servant stationed near the house. “If we can’t count on anything else, at least we can count on each other.”
“Can we?” she’d asked, making no effort to pull her hand away but still looking at him oddly. “I’ve spent a lot of time worrying about you, Lorand, because I have a small, distant understanding of your problem. So far you’ve been able to force yourself to move ahead with the rest of us, but what if tomorrow comes and you find that you can’t do it again? How strongly will I be able to count on you if you aren’t here?”
Lorand hadn’t been able to answer that question, and after a moment he’d released her hand in defeat. He’d expected her to go back to the house immediately, but after an instant’s hesitation she’d put her arms around his neck and kissed him. There was nothing of passion in the kiss, he knew that at once; it felt more as if she were reluctantly kissing him goodbye. Lorand returned the kiss with silent desperation, and a moment later she was hurrying back to the house.
And now, walking toward the resin walls surrounding the practice area, Lorand still couldn’t argue with what she’d said. It had been nothing but the truth, and even a sleepless night of tossing and turning hadn’t done anything to change that. You can’t count on someone who can’t even count on himself, even if the someone is too thickheaded to keep that fact clearly in mind.
“Good morning, sir,” a voice said, and Lorand blinked back to his surroundings to see that Hestir, his Adept guide, stood waiting for him. “I look forward to watching you practice this morning, and then perhaps I’ll get some idea about when you mean to test for your next masteries.”
Lorand was about to say that it would probably be a while before he was ready for the next tests, but the words were never spoken. He’d caught a glimpse of someone over near the first set of practice cubicles, and when he looked directly at the someone he felt jolted.
“That’s Eskin Drowd,” he all but blurted, beginning to move closer to the cubicles to be certain of that. “But what’s he doing
here
? The last time I saw him he was having all sorts of trouble qualifying.”
“Apparently he got past his troubles,” Hestir remarked, having followed along. “He reported here first thing this morning, and after his guide showed him around he went right to work practicing. He seems to realize that he’s the last of his group, and means to make up for lost time.”
At that point Drowd glanced over his shoulder, then looked again more directly, just as Lorand had done. When he saw that it really was Lorand whom he stared at, the well-remembered sneer appeared in his eyes and on his face.
You forgot all about me,
the sneer said without words,
but I’ve caught up now and I won’t fall behind again. This time it will be
you
eating
my
dust
,
just wait and see if it isn’t.
And then Drowd turned back to his practicing, complete determination clear in every line of his body. He’d been bested for a while by a “mudfoot,” but he’d sworn to Lorand that he meant to change that. Lorand would have no choice but to stand there and watch that sneering Drowd move past him, and then Drowd would be put back into the residence and Lorand would be out. After that he’d probably never see Jovvi again…
“I won’t be practicing this morning,” Lorand heard himself saying to Hestir. “I know what’s necessary, so I’ve decided to go straight to the testing. Let’s begin right now.”
“But … now?” Hestir blurted, suddenly looking shaken. “I was certain you would decide to wait until this afternoon… Well, if that’s your decision, so be it. I’ll fetch you a cup of tea to drink while I get another Adept to join me in the witnessing. This stage requires two witnesses, you know—”
“Thank you, but I don’t want any tea,” Lorand interrupted, knowing he didn’t dare give himself time to stop and think. “I’ll go with you to find that other Adept, and then we’ll get straight to it.”
“If you insist,” Hestir agreed after a brief hesitation, now looking considerably less calm and pleased. “My associates are over there.”
He gestured toward a table filled with men drinking tea and talking, then began to lead the way over there. The Adept also seemed to be thinking about something, but Lorand chased too many of his own thoughts to wonder about Hestir’s. He was committed to taking the test now, and backing out simply wasn’t possible. No matter how many doubts and fears he had plaguing him, he
had
to succeed.
“Morin, a moment of your time, please,” Hestir said when they reached the table. After a brief hesitation an average-looking man with brown hair and eyes rose and came over to join them, and Hestir gestured toward Lorand.
“Dom Coll here has just informed me that he wishes to take the next tests immediately,” Hestir said, his voice coming out with an odd, flat inflection. “He’s in such a rush he even refused a relaxing cup of tea, so I’ll require your assistance with the witnessing.”
“Of course, Hestir,” the man Morin replied in that same odd tone, and then he looked at Lorand and produced one of the coldest smiles Lorand had ever seen. “It will be my pleasure, Dom Coll, since there are very few successes in this area to witness. The exercises are so difficult that far more people fail than pass, but I’m certain you’ll be one of the few rather than one of the many.”