Competitions (37 page)

“But what about the gold?” Rion protested even as Ro nodded his concurrence. “If I hold back and don’t win the competition, I also won’t win the gold. I can’t bear the thought of going to Naran with hat in hand like a beggar…”

“Rion has met a lady, and means to see her tonight,” Coll explained quickly to a puzzled Ro. “Tamrissa and I have agreed to help him avoid the notice of the people his mother has following him… You’ve made a good point, Rion, but there’s another one to consider which may be even better: if those people learn enough about your ability to let someone do you harm, won’t that ultimately be worse for Naran?”

“And here’s somethin’ I learned the hard way,” Ro added. “If a lady loves you for your gold, it isn’t you she loves. If she wants to be with you even without gold, you’ve found somethin’ beyond price. Keepin’ yourself safe for someone like that is more important than supplyin’ what she never asked for in the first place. Or
did
she ask?”

“No, actually, she never did,” Rion said, delighted to have an experienced man like Ro confirm the wisdom of his attraction. “
I’m
the one who wants to have gold for her, but you may be right. Putting myself at a disadvantage to get it doesn’t make much sense.”

“You know, we’ve just decided to lose the competition, but that might not be as easy as it sounds,” Coll mused, again looking between the other two men. “I had to stretch myself to gain those masteries, so I can’t pretend to have no strength at all. I was thinking I’d just hang back behind the strongest of those we’ll be competing against, but how do I tell who that is or how strong he is?”

“And what happens if we don’t all perform at the same time?” Ro put in, now looking as disturbed as Coll. “I was picturin’ us doin’ the thing like the foot race they mentioned, but that doesn’t have to be. They could have us perform one at a time, and the only ones we’d know about would be those who went ahead of us.”

“And if one of us happens to be first, he’ll have a real problem,” Rion added, closing the circle. “I can judge the approximate strength of others of my aspect once they begin to use their ability, but how am I to tell before that? If any of us falls too badly below the level we’ve risen to, they’ll know we’re holding back.”

“And that just
might
get us tossed out,” Ro said with a nod. “So we’ll just have to decide how much to hold down what we can do, and stick to that level no matter what happens around us. If we don’t make it
too
low, nobody should notice. At least not that part of it.”

The last of Ro’s words were muttered, and Rion didn’t understand what they meant. Coll did seem to understand, though, and he leaned toward Ro looking earnest.

“You can’t let them use your problem against you,” Coll stated, sounding just as earnest. “I discovered during the mastery tests that they seem to know
my
problem, and getting mad over that helped me to get around the problem itself. Can’t you do something like that for yourself?”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” Ro asked wearily, looking at Coll bleakly. “Gettin’ mad does help a little, but I keep picturin’ that small, windowless resin buildin’, and I get sick instead. As soon as I walk inside there won’t be any air to breathe, especially when the walls start closin’ in. I’ll choke and then I’ll panic, and then I’ll run out without competin’ at all.”

“It’s too bad you don’t have Air magic like Rion,” Coll said, now apparently sharing Ro’s depression. “I can’t imagine what your problem feels like, but being able to bring in extra air would probably help a
little
.”

“Maybe it isn’t extra
air
that Ro needs,” Rion mused, suddenly getting an idea. “You seem to do all right in these coaches, Ro, and you also seem to have no problem in the bath house, which is definitely windowless. Have you ever tried to add more
moisture
to the air in enclosed places? Resin tends to dry the air of the places it encloses, I’ve noticed, so—”

“So maybe that’s it!” Coll enthused, interrupting Rion with a gentle clap on the back. “Rion’s come up with the answer, and now you can compete.”

“I suppose it’s worth a try,” Ro said, not nearly as enthusiastic as Coll, but then he smiled. “Thanks for tryin’ for me, Mardimil. Even if it doesn’t work, it feels good knowin’ there’s somebody on
my
side.”

“And if it does work, you’re set,” Coll said, also giving Rion a smile. “That means we’ll all be set … except for the girls! Damnation! Why didn’t we talk about this last night? Now there’s no way to tell them.”

“Hopefully they’re thinkin’ the same about us,” Ro soothed, but Rion felt that his worry had suddenly taken a new direction. “Jovvi doesn’t let much get past her, so they ought to be just fine.”

“Ought to be,” Coll echoed, in no way an agreement. “Let’s hope they are, and also agree to have group meetings every night. If we don’t stick together, they’ll get us for sure.”

Ro made a sound that might have been support for the idea, but Rion made his response much more positive. If anything happened to Tamrissa and Jovvi because the men were too distracted by personal concerns to plan properly, Rion knew he would find it impossible to forgive himself. It would hardly be his fault alone, but it would certainly feel that way.

They lapsed back into silence after that, and this time Rion made no attempt to break it. His disappointment over the gold was rather deep, but he did still have some silver. It might be enough for a modest dinner, and possibly even enough for a small gift for Naran. He spent some time wondering what would really please her, and before he knew it the coach was slowing for his stop.

“Well, here’s hoping we all find the proper way to fail,” Rion said softly as they came to a full halt. “In any event, good luck, my friends.”

The others fervently returned the sentiment, and then Rion was on the walk and the coach was continuing on. There was no reason to stand there and watch it, so Rion strode to the entrance to the practice area and inside. The number of people present had grown considerably, and when Rion paused to look around at them, Padril suddenly appeared to his left.

“I was sent to await your arrival, sir,” Padril said at his most obsequious, even offering a bow. “The other participants have already arrived, and the competition will soon begin. Would you care to stop for a cup of tea, or go immediately to the competitions building?”

“I have no interest in tea,” Rion answered, making no effort to pretend friendliness toward the man. “Lead me to the building.”

Padril bowed again and began to move through the crowds, and Rion followed after taking a final glance around. For some reason it disturbed him that many of the people there were certainly of the nobility, although no one Rion had ever met. There had been no sign of his class peers until now, but the competition seemed to have brought them out. A low level event like this one promised to be shouldn’t have held enough interest to do that, and for that reason Rion felt disturbed.

But there was nothing he might do about the matter even if it proved sinister, so he simply followed Padril into the large resin building. Most of the floor was open from wall to wall, but a heavy tan curtain had been draped across the back section of it. Others were entering at the same time to join one or another group already inside, but Padril ignored them all to lead Rion to a man standing alone near a group of seated people. Those in the seats wore master’s bracelets like Rion’s, and the man standing alone smiled as they approached.

“Sir, this is Adept Worlen, who is in charge of the competition,” Padril said rather quickly, obviously eager to be finished and away. “He will see to you now, and I wish you luck.”

With that the overfed fool scurried away, and Rion was glad to see the back of him. He knew precisely what sort of luck Padril wished him, and he returned the sentiment exactly.

“Well, Mardimil, glad to see you made it,” Worlen said with that lower-nobility charm Rion usually found extremely grating. “Come and take a seat with the other competitors, as we’ll be beginning shortly.”

No other response than sitting was called for, so Rion made none. Worlen didn’t seem to notice, though, as he was much too busy watching the spectators enter. Rion himself looked at his fellow competitors, one of whom was a lady instead. She and two of the men seemed very much ill at ease, while the remaining four men appeared more bored than nervous. Something felt odd about that, but Rion didn’t have the time to wonder what. He still hadn’t decided just how strong he should be, and that had to be taken care of first.

A number of minutes went by while Rion thought, but the process was far from productive. He was finally forced to admit that he needed to know what was involved in the competition before any lucid decisions might be made, and that was when Worlen stood himself in front of the curtain and raised his arms.

“Friends, please give me your attention,” he called. “We’re about to begin, so please find your places.”

There was a final amount of shuffling and throat-clearing and coughs, and then there was silence. Worlen smiled, obviously enjoying the audience’s interest.

“This, as most of you know, is a low level competition in Air magic,” Worlen lectured. “We have eight participants today, and each of them will test their ability against the ticking of that clock.”

The man pointed then, and Rion turned in his seat to see the back of what appeared to be a sporting event clock. Both human and horse races used the device, but it was positioned so that only the audience might see it, not the participants.

“What they will need to do is as follows,” Worlen continued, pulling aside the tan curtain. “There are ten bell devices arranged around this area, some closer together, some farther apart, some high, some low. That small steel ball sitting up on the starting ‘tower’ toward the back must be maneuvered around to ring each of the ten bells, but the participant won’t be permitted to simply grasp the ball in thickened air and move it that way. The ball has to be ‘guided’ into position to ring each bell, otherwise the bell simply won’t ring. Here’s a demonstration to show what I mean.”

A young lady hurried over to where the small and shiny ball lay atop a wooden tower about five feet high. To the tower’s left, rising perhaps an inch from the floor, was a small, flat-topped device. Rion watched as the young lady took the steel ball in her hand, then she walked to the flat-topped device, bent, and struck it with the ball. The device made a thick clicking sound, and then the young lady stood and tried to
drop
the ball on the device. Despite what should have been a straight-line approach, the ball veered off at the last moment and missed the device altogether.

“So you see,” Worlen said as the girl retrieved the ball and returned it to its tower. “Only ‘guiding’ will let the ball ring the bell, and ten rings are required. Let’s begin now with our first participant.”

Rion had convinced himself that he would be first, and so found himself surprised when the young woman was approached. Worlen had to charm her out of her chair as she tried to protest, and then had to walk her back to a rather thick white line painted on the floor. The so-called Adept spoke softly to the girl for a moment, and then he left her to begin her effort.

The girl was extremely nervous, but when she opened herself to the power it became clear that she was far from untalented. Rion watched her form a cylinder of air then tip the ball into it, which brought the ball down at a steep angle to strike the flat-topped device at the bottom of the incline. This time a bell sounded, but then the girl just stood there, looking around at the other bell locations in bewilderment.

“That’s all right, my dear, consider it part of the demonstration,” Worlen said with a chuckle as he returned to her. “You’ve just discovered that you can’t go from bell to bell in order, not when they’re set at varying heights. You struck the lowest bell first, which means that you would have to grasp the ball in order to raise it again. Since grasping it is against the rules, you’ll have to start again and choose your landings in advance.”

The girl nodded miserably and began to study the various bell positions, obviously too upset to notice that the clock hadn’t been started as yet. But Rion had noticed, and something else as well: all of the other participants were watching the girl with their eyes alone. Not one of them touched the least amount of power, which struck Rion as being extremely strange. No one had said they shouldn’t, and no one had remarked on the fact that Rion
was
touching it. He was obviously missing something, but what that could be he had no idea.

This time the clock was started when the girl began the exercise again, and this time she completed it. Her guiding cylinders took the ball from bell to bell in wide sweeps, but always with the downward curve working to her benefit. When the final bell was struck the girl seemed ready to collapse, but Worlen was right there to take both her hands in his.

“Congratulations, my dear, that was wonderfully done,” Worlen enthused while the audience applauded. Then his voice lowered as he spoke to her more privately, finally releasing her hands only after a full minute. When the girl turned she looked up at the clock, but her disappointed expression showed that there was no longer anything to see. Rion wasn’t surprised at
that
, but the speed used in getting the girl out of the building was startling.

“She really did very well indeed,” Rion heard, and looked back to see Worlen. The man had let someone else accompany the girl, and now had returned to the rest of them. “Those of you who follow her will really have to stretch yourselves, otherwise you’ll find yourselves outdone by a woman. And the first one to stretch will be Rion Mardimil.”

Rion was tired of having these people forget his title, but this wasn’t the time to make an issue of it. There were more important things going on, not to mention questions to be asked.

“Just what
was
the young lady’s time?” he put to Worlen as he stood, looking down at the man. “And why was she made to leave so quickly?”