Rebel Elements (Seals of the Duelists) (38 page)

They spoke to them, too, he recalled, thinking of Aleida’s Wind avatar.

Thinking of talking to mountains put him in mind of the Striders, mythical rock men of northern Balanganam. As soon as the image formed in his mind, a pair of basalt hands thrust up from the rumbling sand in the middle of the Earth arena. The Strider clambered out, his long, slender hexagonal rock limbs protruding from a small spherical torso, and slowly got to his feet. His small, eyeless head was a mere lump atop minimal shoulders. The avatar stood motionless, a slice of cliffside looming eight strides high.

The sand settled. The arena went quiet.

Bayan stared up at his avatar. His very own Earth avatar. Even the dark force within him paused in awe for a moment, before surging in sheer joy.

“Excellent, Bayan!” Mikellen gazed up at the avatar. “He’s a fine size as well, though he’s mostly legs.”

“He looks like half a spider!” Calder hooted from the first row of seats. “Where’s his other legs, then? What sort of duelist can only manifest half an avatar? I’m ashamed to be seen with you, Bayan!”

“Now that you have him, Bayan,” Mikellen said, “let me reiterate the rules for keeping him. When you use him in combat, the spell magic will keep him in existence, because you can only battle with an Earth avatar when you’ve invoked Earth. If you’re going to Idle him, you must keep your arms in that position and visualize the action you want him to perform. This can be difficult at first, but over time it will become second nature to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Bayan said, trying not to move his arms at all.

“Good.” Mikellen invoked Earth, then her own avatar, who thundered up from the sand in the form of a lumpy pillar of crackling, cooling lava that radiated heat onto Bayan’s skin even at a distance. “Now, direct your avatar to perform the same Idling motions that I send to Kallas.”

Bayan struggled to keep his attention on his new avatar’s motions while not losing the perfect cross his arms formed. He managed to get the rock-spider-man to walk around the arena, step sideways, and pick up a scoop of sand with his hand. But when he tried to will Strider to run, he unconsciously moved his arms, changing the angle, and the avatar crumbled to a pile of rock chunks before vanishing.

Bayan stared, aghast.
Did I kill him?

“Don’t worry, Bayan. You did very well today. And aye, you’ll be able to summon him again. It will be easier now that you’ve met. Why don’t you have a seat, and we’ll let someone else try. Now that you’ve broken through the mental barrier and summoned an avatar, the rest of your hex should have an easier time of it, if they have the strength.”

Bayan walked toward Kiwani and sat down, as Tarin strode to Mikellen. His mind was full of wondrous ideas and worries.

“You did it, Bayan.” Kiwani smiled. “Well done! It looks like you’re finally better than I am at something.”

“Like farming? Planting and harvesting rice? Knowing where and how to dig an irrigation channel? How to level a paddy? What to feed a seerwine pitcher? How to direct planting crews or negotiate with itinerant harvesters?”

Kiwani’s brow furrowed. “I was only—”

He grinned at her.

She pouted and punched his shoulder. “You dirty sneak.”

“That’s ‘muddy’ to you.”

“For that, I’m going to manifest my Earth avatar tomorrow, just to spite you. And it’ll be a perfect, beautiful statue… of myself.”

Bayan laughed. “Excellent! Then I can practice breaking it into pieces during class.” Kiwani’s disconcerted frown let Bayan know she hadn’t thought that far ahead, and he laughed again. “It would be a great way to advertise your services, though. Everyone would know which duelist you were within your duel den.”

She lifted her chin. “Everyone will know who I am anyway, Bayan. I’m going to be the most famous duelist ever.” Her smile faltered. “Since I can’t really be anything else, anymore. I guess I just don’t know how to chase a dream half-heartedly.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” He looked into her dark eyes. “At least you didn’t make a full-grown eucalyptus tree because you couldn’t keep focused.”

She giggled. “I’ve been listening to the newniks gossiping on the lower level of the barracks about how it got there. Someone said Sint Esme decided to switch trees, but there wasn’t one where she wanted to be, so she made one appear. I’ve even heard them say they’re leaving offerings there, just in case.”

Bayan winced. That hadn’t been his intention at all. No one had come to discuss the tree issue with him, for which he was grateful. But he was reminded yet again that, as a duelist, his strength and power were augmented, but so were the consequences of his magic, whether intended or not.

~~~

That evening, Bayan and his hexmates sat at their usual table in the dining area, and wolfed down thick bread and an oily cold-stew dish while flicking olives at each other, when Headmaster Langlaren approached them with a note in his hand.

“Hsst.” Kiwani sat up straight and adopted proper manners. The others copied her as best they could, so that by the time the headmaster arrived at the table, Tarin was politely asking for another slice of bread, and Calder was cutting it for her, holding the bread steady with the breadfork rather than crushing it with his hand as he usually did.

“Good day, Headmaster,” Kiwani said. “Do you need us for something?”

“No, no,” he replied, smiling. “I’ve brought you some good news. No, keep eating. Don’t let me stop you.”

He unfolded the note. “Your Talent Tournament has been scheduled. Does anyone have a guess as to where it might be?”

No one spoke. Bayan could tell Calder in particular was having a hard time not giving away the fact that they already knew where they were headed.

Finally, Kiwani spoke. “We’re going to Muggenhem, Headmaster.”

He frowned at her. “Yes… you are.” Glancing around at the rest of the table, he pursed his lips. “It’s not a common occurrence that I am the last to learn something. May I assume that Master witten Oost is in some way involved with your generous assignment?”

Bayan looked at Kiwani, confused. She shrugged.

“We don’t think so, Headmaster,” Eward said.

“My sponsor, the eunuch Philo Sallas, arranged it somehow, Headmaster.” Bayan hoped he wasn’t getting Philo in trouble.

“A Kheerzaal eunuch with this sort of influence?” Langlaren glanced at the note in his hand. “These assignments are handled by an office under the direct supervision of the emperor himself, so that an even distribution is maintained, both of existing den duelists and of Talent Tournaments. Perhaps Master witten Oost has a contender after all.”

“Sir?” Bayan asked.

“Apologies. Rambling in my old age, I expect. To the point, you have two more days of classes before you pack up and head out. Make the most of them; they’re the last training days you’ll receive before you must show how well you can earn your keep.” He nodded pleasantly and left the hex to their meal.

But no one ate any more food. Bayan’s stomach squirmed around the oily stew. The idea that he needed to perform well in order to secure a good duel den for himself rankled. Worse, the idea that he might soon need to rely on the impressions he made in Muggenhem, because he topped out of the Academy, unable to manifest all six elemental avatars, was a depressing one. Early avatar manifestation was no guarantee of creating a complete set.

“All feels a bit more real after that, aye?” Calder fiddled with his half-eaten bread slice.

“Aye,” Tarin said soberly.

“None of the other hexes have even tested up,” Kiwani said. “And here we are, heading out in two days for a free trip to the seaside getaway of the imperial nobility—”

Bayan leaned forward. “It’s on the ocean?”

“Yes, on the Gyre. It’s the only strip of coastline in Helderaard, and the closest place the nobility can go to play in the sand. It’s winter now—storm season—when most of the nobles stay in Helderaard, but a Talent Tournament will draw them in by the score, along with their entourages and servants. The town will be bursting. The mayor should write us a personal thank-you letter. Trust me.” She looked around the table. “A permanent assignment to the Muggenhem duel den is the softest, prettiest job in the entire empire. You only work half the year, and all your clients are well-off and generous.”

“Sounds like heaven to me,” Calder said.

“It sounds too good to be true,” Bayan said, worrying what Kipri would say to him once he arrived.

The group finished their meal and headed back out to the Wind Arena. With only two more days to practice before they left campus, every minute not spent training seemed wasteful.

After several long days on the High Way, the imperial carriage rounded the curve of the hill, and the distant sea came into view. Bayan looked longingly out the window, breathing deeply of the cool air, straining for the scent of salt. Once he found it, he closed his eyes in reminiscent bliss.

“Just like home, eh Bayan?” Calder grinned out at the sea.

“Not quite,” Bayan replied, “but close enough.”

The carriage swung down around the final bend, leaving the hills behind and entering the smooth slope of land that led down to the waters of the Gyre. The first buildings of Muggenhem, clustered along the edges of the winding lanes, came into view. Many sported brightly colored wind decorations from roofs and fence posts; they twirled in the constant salty breeze.

As the carriage entered the town proper, Bayan recognized elements of his far-away home town of Pangusay in its casual layout. Trees and thick shrubbery separated shops from one another, and large, semi-tamed garden spaces took up large swaths of ground. Rhododendrons bobbed tight green buds in the wind. Wind-sculpted scrub pines waved long-needled arms toward the carriage windows. Small freshwater ponds bore clusters of green or white ducks.

Finally, the arboreal wildness fell away, surrendering to the rich opulence of a few main streets whose style evoked an older era of Waarden culture. Manor houses lurked behind decorative walls and gates. Inns gathered around a pair of spotless main squares. Fountains and statuary sprouted between casually groomed topiaries and flower beds.

The carriage stopped beneath a white awning suspended from the curved arena wall of the Muggenhem duel den. A crowd had gathered outside the arena, and Bayan guessed from the various styles of clothing that the curious onlookers were mostly freemen and indentureds, though he noted a few minor nobles as well. They formed a loose semi-circle as the carriage pulled up.

As Bayan and his hexmates exited the carriage, murmurs went through the gathered watchers. All the looks directed at Bayan seemed curious and speculative rather than judgmental; Bayan smiled, welcoming their neutrality.

“We’re already famous,” Eward whispered as the five of them gathered their bags from atop the carriage and lugged them toward the duel den’s entrance, where a dozen duelists and a man in a chanter’s tabard waited to welcome them.

Kiwani made a delicate snort. “That’s not fame, Eward. That’s Muggenhem, bored and curious.”

One of the local duelists stepped forward. “Greetings, Elementalists. My name is Hanna, and I’m Head Duelist here in the Muggenhem den. Your hex is welcome here for the duration of your tournament.”

“Thank you.” Kiwani spoke for the group. “It is our pleasure to perform here.”

Hanna’s lips parted in surprise. “Lady Kiwani t’Eshkin?”

Kiwani froze. Bayan stepped forward and gave her a gentle shove on the shoulder. “Just Duelist Kiwani now. Do you have some water? It’s really thirsty in that carriage.”

He stumped inside, but slowly, taking in the sight—and smell—of a functioning duel den. The tunnel and arena—what he could see of it, directly ahead—seemed identical to the arenas at the Academy. The nooks for healing or resting were full hallways in the Muggenhem arena, though, one leading left within the arena wall, and the other going to the right. Recalling his long-ago visit to the duel den in Renallen, Bayan wondered if those hallways were standard in all duel dens, as the entrance tunnel and arena were.

Hanna and the others caught up with him, and the local duelists showed him and all his hexmates to their cells, down the corridor to the right. After dumping his duffel on the narrow bed in a room he’d have all to himself, Bayan headed across the main tunnel and into the duelists’ common room. There, he drank from the piped water tap and waited for his hexmates to join him.

Though he hadn’t been focused on the décor in the Renallen duel den, Bayan thought the Muggenhem common room looked essentially identical. A small collection of chairs littered the room, surrounded by overstuffed pillows of all shapes and sizes. A long table, laden with platters and bowls of food, took up the center of the common space. The local duelists hovered around it, lading their plates. They paused briefly for formal introductions a moment later, when Bayan’s hexmates walked in, sniffing the air appreciatively.

“Please, eat brunch with us. We’ll happily make room,” said a duelist named Teos. “It’s not often we get company.”

“Usually we’re someone else’s company,” Hanna said.

Everyone gathered around and loaded their platters with hot baked potatoes and orange winter squash, baked fish and spiced apples. Bayan had to admit, sitting on fine pillows and chairs with fellow duelists and eating delicious food in a cozy, wealthy little town that was saturated with good salty air, that life was, at the moment, entirely good.