“If they know about your problem and we’re right about this having been an evaluation, it makes sense that they called you first,” Lorand commented. “They’d want to give you every break in order to judge just how strong you really are, just in case you find a way to use that strength in the more important competitions.”
“They do know about me, so you’re probably right,” Ro agreed, now looking thoughtful. “My former Adept guide tried to get me inside too early, but I had the feelin’ he was actin’ on his own and tryin’ to be vindictive. When I told him straight out that I was uncomfortable inside buildin’s, he looked like somebody broke his toy.”
“What a shame,” Lorand said with a grin, then joined Ro in interrupting the conversation while they picked up Mardimil. Rion looked his usual calm and easy self, and the first thing he did once he settled himself to Lorand’s right was to turn to Ro.
“Were you able to complete the competition?” he asked, clearly seriously concerned. “Was my suggestion of any use to you?”
“Yes and yes,” Ro answered with a smile. “I completed the exercise, but mainly because addin’ moisture to the air around my face made me more comfortable. But I’m fairly sure I failed, so my tryin’ real hard didn’t help.”
“Yes, alas, I’m certain I failed as well,” Mardimil agreed with an easy grin, now apparently relieved. “A young lady was called up before me, and despite my earnest efforts I believe she outdid me. And what fate did
you
find, Coll?”
“Sadly, the same,” Lorand replied, but not as lightheartedly as he’d wanted to. “As I was telling Ro, there were two people called up ahead of me. The girl did fine, but the man following her cracked under the strain. I could almost hear him thinking about how foolish he would feel if she bested him, and when it became certain that that would happen, he broke.”
“The man running our competition suggested there would be shame and worse for any male contestant whose efforts fell below those of the young lady, but I couldn’t quite see that,” Mardimil commented, his expression now puzzled. “If the girl happened to be stronger, how would that become
my
fault?”
“It would be your fault because men are supposed to be stronger than women,” Lorand explained, unsurprised that Mardimil had missed the point. “I’m sure your mother never taught you that, but it’s something every other man is taught. We’re supposed to be stronger than women, and if we aren’t then the fault is ours.”
“You sound as if you wanted to outdo that girl,” Ro put in thoughtfully, gazing at Lorand. “Was that your own idea, or did the one runnin’ your competition do some ‘suggestin’’ with you also?”
“Well, now that you mention it…” Lorand responded slowly, his frown back. “Lidim did make something of a point of it, which surely helped to drive that man over the edge. You think he did it on purpose?”
“It seems more likely than not,” Ro decided, looking at Mardimil as well. “Both of you were told the same thing, and it happens to be somethin’ that most men respond to. Bein’ bested by a woman is shameful, and not the same as bein’ bested by another man. A man has to be real sure of himself not to respond to that.”
“Or determined to overlook it,” Lorand said with a nod. “Or, as in Mardimil’s case, not knowing about it in the first place. That seems to be another point in favor of our guesswork, that this ‘competition’ was really an evaluation. I wonder why the ploy didn’t work with all the contestants.”
“What do you mean?” Ro asked, joining Mardimil in looking at him. “What makes you think it didn’t work with everybody?”
“I believe Coll is referring to something I noticed myself,” Mardimil supplied when Lorand hesitated in trying to put a passing feeling into words. “Only the young lady and myself and two other men seemed actually interested in what they were about to do. The others appeared to be downright bored, which struck me as being odd.”
“That’s exactly right,” Lorand confirmed. “Only the girl and the man following her—and me, of course—seemed to be there to compete. The others could have been waiting for a long-delayed ride home.”
“Believe it or not, I think I noticed the same thing,” Ro added, his gaze turned inward. “I was too busy fightin’ the need to leave to really be aware of it, but most of those people in the seats were just markin’ time. I wonder if that means they weren’t goin’ to be competin’ at all?”
“Of course!” Lorand exclaimed, suddenly seeing the truth. “They were put there to pretend there were a
lot
of competitors, so the officials would have an excuse not to announce the results while we real competitors were still there. I can’t imagine why they would want to do that, but I’m willing to bet that that was their aim.”
“It might have something to do with the fact that they don’t want us talking to or associating with any other competitor,” Mardimil put in, not the least doubt in his voice. “I found that out when I tried to join the young lady who performed before me. My guard refused to let me go near her, claiming that ‘fraternization’ could ‘compromise the integrity’ of the competition. I took that to mean they’re afraid we’ll learn things from each other, and although I can’t imagine what those things could be—or how we would locate other residences—it seems to be something we ought to consider trying to accomplish.”
“I agree,” Ro said as Lorand nodded. “I don’t yet know how we’ll do it either, but we ought to be thinkin’ about it. The more we know that they don’t want us to, the better off we’ll be.”
That had been obvious for quite some time, and Lorand remembered his earlier thoughts about a nightly meeting with the women. The idea seemed even more important now, as they might have seen or figured out something to satisfy all their unanswered questions. Lorand was about to mention the point, but a glance at Mardimil and Ro showed the two men sunk into thought. It made no sense to disturb them now, so Lorand decided to wait until they’d returned to the residence, and found thoughts of his own to occupy him.
The most compelling thing on his mind was the odd way he’d begun to feel. He’d responded to that deliberate attempt to make him try his hardest without even noticing it, which wasn’t at all like him. Only men who were unsure of themselves would have responded, Ro had suggested, but Lorand had never before been unsure of himself. Unsure about using too much of the power and burning out, yes, but not unsure about
himself
.
So why had he responded to the point of being unhappy about needing to lose the competition? Lorand shifted on the coach seat, trying to understand the attitude that still hadn’t left him. He’d started out being well and truly relieved that he wasn’t going to
have
to win the competition, and had ended up disappointed that he couldn’t do more. It was crazy to feel that way when worse than death awaited the careless practitioner, so what was wrong with him?
The question remained unanswered even when the coach pulled up at the residence, so Lorand dropped it with a sigh and joined the others in getting out. Maybe later, once he’d taken Mardimil’s place with Tamrissa, he’d ask
her
for an opinion. He would have preferred to ask Jovvi, but still couldn’t bring himself to face her.
The servant letting them in provided the information that the ladies had already returned, but both had gone to rest after having asked not to be disturbed. That left very little to do, since Mardimil went to his bedchamber and Ro announced he meant to use the bath house. Lorand took himself to the library instead, and spent the time until lunch reading a popular history about the empire.
Only Mardimil and Ro came to the dining room for lunch, and when they questioned Warla they found out what the ladies were doing. Jovvi, apparently, was sound asleep, having left word that she needed rest more than food. Tamrissa had asked for a tray in her apartment, also a bit too weary for a formal meal. Lorand and Mardimil discussed what might have happened to make the ladies so tired, but naturally could come up with nothing but guesswork. They’d have to wait until later to find out the truth, but Ro didn’t seem as interested. He made no comment at all, and simply concentrated on his food.
After lunch Lorand decided to use the bathing house himself, but discovered he wasn’t in the mood to soak. So he went back to his bedchamber and dressed again, then returned to the library. But not to read the same book. All that raving about how wonderful and perfect the empire was had begun to turn his stomach. If the empire was all that wonderful, it would hardly contain so many unhappy people.
Lorand was still trying to decide what to read when a knock came at the door. A moment later the door opened, and when he turned away from the shelves it was to see a servant.
“Excuse me, sir, but there’s someone here to see you,” the servant announced. “Shall I show him in here?”
“Yes, please,” Lorand agreed, surprised that Meerk was back so soon. It couldn’t be anyone
but
the tough, although he obviously didn’t have Hat with him. The servant had said “show
him
in,” not “show
them
in.” Lorand hoped it wasn’t bad news, but braced himself just in case. And then the servant returned leading the visitor, and Lorand was doubly glad that he’d braced himself.
“A representative from the testing authority,” the servant announced, stepping aside to let the stranger in. Lorand simply stared, vastly surprised and instantly wondering if he weren’t about to be ejected from the competitions after all.
“Dom Coll, congratulations,” the man said with a smile as soon as he saw Lorand. “I’ve been sent to tell you that you’re the winner of our competition, and to deliver your prize—in gold, of course.”
The man held out a pouch Lorand had never expected to see, but all the lucky winner could do was stand and stare. He’d won? He’d
won
? How could he have made such a terrible mistake…?
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Vallant sat in a chair in his bedchamber, sprawled out in what should have been a comfortable posture but wasn’t. He’d bathed and gotten into clean clothes, rested and had lunch, but some vague discomfort continued to disturb him. Part of it was the fact that the women hadn’t come down to lunch, but that was more of a general concern. Apparently they’d had a much harder time of it than the men, but they’d also obviously survived without having been given any real harm.
So Vallant’s discomfort had another source, and his thoughts were skittering around and making him feel as though he ought to be off and doing things. It finally occurred to him that if he were off and doing things he would have no time to think, so that was what his mind was trying to avoid: thinking, and obviously about some particular subject. One that he didn’t
want
to think about…
And just that easily the barriers fell, immediately making him wish they hadn’t. Many people had envied Vallant’s family life while he grew up, and there was no doubt that it had been incredibly happy. But once a boy becomes a man his interest turns toward making a family of his own, and in that Vallant had failed miserably. Mirra, the first woman he’d thought about sharing his life with, had proved to be in love with her own desires rather than him, and was more manipulative than he’d ever thought was possible.
So he’d left Mirra after swearing off women completely, and the next thing he’d known he was chasing after Tamrissa. He’d really believed it was possible to make a wonderful life with her, and foolishly, in his fantasies, still did. But Tamrissa Domon had made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing to do with him, going well out of her way to prove the point. His attentions were unwanted, and he’d made a big hairy beast of himself in trying to press them.
The pain of those two experiences was more than Vallant would have been able to put into words, as they clearly showed there was something terribly wrong with him. He’d been seriously attracted to two women, both times the attraction had turned to disaster, and he’d never felt so lonely in his entire life. Or such a loser. He was used to winning in everything, but that everything apparently failed to cover the most important aspect of his life.
Vallant closed his eyes, mentally searching for the will to try again, but for the first time in his life it wasn’t there. He had no interest at all in trying again, not when associating with women brought such pain. And not when the picture of himself that he now carried in his mind was so distorted. A vain, shallow woman was determined to drag him into marriage, and a gentle woman with beauty both inside and out wanted nothing to do with him. What that said about
him
was an aching throb in his insides, and enough to make him deeply ashamed.
It was really too bad that grown men weren’t supposed to cry, Vallant thought, his eyes still tightly closed. He hadn’t even done much crying as a small boy, and that included the time he’d been so frightened. But now he felt a real need to cry, to sob his heart out the way women did when they found themselves helpless in some situation. Vallant was now just as helpless, but tears, like happiness, weren’t permitted him.
Deep depression has a way of overcoming restlessness, so Vallant just sat in the chair and brooded. Even accomplishing something in the competitions had lost its urgency, especially now that they were all deliberately trying to lose. There seemed to be nothing left in his life to strive for, and he couldn’t even care about
that
. What would the testing authority do, he wondered, if he simply walked away and went back to the sea? If they tried to reclaim him, he could always threaten to expose their slimy little arrangement. If he covered himself before making the threat, he might even be able to—
A knock at the door interrupted Vallant’s thoughts, and when he called out his permission to enter, a servant opened the door.
“There’s someone here askin’ t’ see ya, sor,” the girl said shyly. “He says he’s frum th’ testin’ a’thority.”
Vallant frowned at hearing that, switching to unease from the dread he’d felt when he’d thought Mirra and her parents were back. That would have been bad enough, but this… What could the testing authority possibly want? To tell him he was no longer part of the program? That would fit all too well with everything else which had happened…