Competitions (38 page)

“Her time—and your own—will be given to you once the competition is completely over,” Worlen responded smoothly, looking toward the others as well while he spoke. “Until then you are to make no attempt to learn this information, and you’re to leave the building as soon as you’re told you may do so. Someone will be sent to the winner’s residence with the good news and a purse containing his—or her—gold. Have I made myself clear?”

Rion thought it was quite clear that they were up to some trick, but rather than say so he simply smiled. The others nodded uneasily, and it was Worlen’s turn to smile.

“Good,” he said in approval. “Now, Mardimil, if you please…”

His arm swept toward the thick white line, so Rion walked over to it and looked at the arrangement of bells. Each stood on its own small tower in different places around the rough circle, each tower a different height. When Rion opened himself fully to the power, he was able to detect a strange …
feeling
of sorts around each tower. He had no idea what caused the feeling, but suspected it was produced by whatever made the steel ball miss the bell without a guiding cylinder.

And just how strong that cylinder should be was another question. The girl had caused the air they were made of to be almost completely rigid, but that might not be necessary—or particularly desirable. Rion suddenly remembered he was supposed to lose the competition, and since he couldn’t really argue the decision he decided he might as well get it over with.

The steel ball had been returned to the top of the highest tower, and lifting it a breath off its resting place showed Rion just how heavy it was. He could have constructed one single cylinder to curve around to each bell, and then would have only needed to nudge the ball on its way again after it rang a bell. But the girl had constructed her cylinder sections one at a time, so he had to do the same and more slowly. Happily, he had a general idea about how long it had taken her.

Rion heard the clock being set in motion the moment he nudged the steel ball from its first resting place, and that helped to remind him to take his time. He discovered that the steel ball needed constant attention even as it rolled along its guiding cylinder; added momentum somehow seemed to add to its already-considerable weight, and without strict watchfulness it could burst through the cylinder wall at the bottom of the slide, either before or after it rang the bell. Losing the ball midway would probably also have lost the competition most easily, but Rion’s pride refused to allow him to do that. Going more slowly than the girl would have to suffice.

When the final bell rang, Worlen came over to shake Rion’s hand with enthusiastic congratulations. The man also babbled meaningless questions at him, so by the time Rion was able to turn it was too late to see what the clock had read. Nevertheless he was certain his time had been longer than the girl’s, so he made no argument when some stranger insisted Rion follow him outside.

The eating area wasn’t completely emptied by any means, but it was mostly the usual low-born hangers-on who were left. The girl who had performed first sat alone at a table gulping tea, and Rion considered joining her. His thoughts must have been too obvious, though, as his guide spoke up before Rion made up his mind.

“Participants in a competition aren’t permitted to fraternize,” the man said in a very flat voice. “When ordinary people see casual mixing, they too often decide that there’s been collusion and that the competition was fixed. The authority wants nothing of trouble of that sort, so you must take a table by yourself.”

“Yes, by all means, let’s be certain there’s no collusion,” Rion returned dryly, choosing a table and sitting. “You may ring for a servant for me, and then see about sending for my coach. As I’m supposed to return to the residence, that would be the first logical step in accomplishing it.”

“A servant is already on his way,” the man replied, gesturing with a nod in the direction of the kitchens. “Someone else is already arranging for your coach, so I’ll simply stand here and keep you company.”

Rion shrugged in an effort to show that he didn’t care one way or another, but after ordering tea and a sweet cake from the servant he sat back to think. The man standing so casually not far from the girl’s table must be her guard, just as the man near Rion was his. And guards the two certainly were, although the reason for their presence was far from clear. What did they expect Rion to do to the girl, or she to him, that each of them had to be guarded…?

And then Rion saw how foolish he was being. Unless he was mistaken, these people were afraid of what he and the girl would
say
to each other, not do. But that led to another question, such as what
sort
of thing the authority didn’t want discussed. There were no real secrets to impart, after all…

Or were there? What would he and the girl learn if they were to compare notes? The answer to that was impossible to guess, but just as impossible to dismiss. It was something he would have to discuss with the others when they all returned to the residence, but right now Rion had to fight to keep from turning his head to stare at the girl.

They would probably end up deciding they needed to speak to members of other residences, but how would they do that when they had no idea where those other residences were?

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Lorand wished Ro luck when the man left the coach, and a few minutes later it was his own destination that the coach stopped at. In the interim Lorand had wondered why he felt so lighthearted, but the answer was rather obvious. This was the first time he would approach a test with the knowledge that he had to lose rather than win, and the freedom of that realization almost had him laughing and singing.

At least until he was out of the coach and walking toward the entrance to the practice area. He’d very much wanted to talk to Jovvi again, but telling her he meant to do his absolute best wouldn’t have changed the reason she’d withdrawn from him, and now he couldn’t even say
that
much honestly. A man who was determined to win in the end would be very unhappy over needing to lose at
any
time, but Lorand wasn’t in the least unhappy. That said something about himself, and would have said even more to Jovvi.

So Lorand walked through the entrance feeling guilty for feeling relieved, a combination odd enough to be very uncomfortable. Sight of all the extra people in the eating area helped to distract him a bit from that, and Hestir’s approach did the rest of the job.

“Good morning, Dom Coll, it’s good to see you again,” Hestir said with a great deal of obsequious respect, actually bowing. “Would you care to pause for a cup of tea before joining everyone else in the competitions building?”

“I don’t need any tea this morning,” Lorand answered shortly, and for the first time truthfully. He
didn’t
need any stimulants or excuses designed to waste time, but even more he didn’t intend to chat with Hestir as though the man had done nothing unusual yesterday.

“Then it’s my honor to lead you to the building,” Hestir said, looking and sounding as if “terror” would have been a better word than “honor.” “Please follow me.”

The man turned and walked off at a pace that should have been dignified, but the fact that Hestir would have preferred running was much too obvious. It turned his stride choppy, and Lorand followed a bit more easily while wondering why Hestir’s terror didn’t bother him. It had to be because of the man’s actions, which proved that Lorand wasn’t as forgiving as he’d considered himself. Being feared should have bothered Lorand, but in Hestir’s case it didn’t.

Much of the crowd was heading toward the building as well, and Lorand walked inside to find that it was already fairly well filled. Hestir led the way through the throng toward the back of the building, where a man stood in front of a curtain, talking to a woman who seemed to have just arrived. As Hestir approached, the man directed the woman to a seat among others who were just a few steps away, and then he turned to the newest newcomers.

“Sir, this is Adept Lidim,” Hestir said over his shoulder to Lorand with a gesture toward the man. “Adept Lidim is in charge of the competition, and—”

“And this must be Dom Coll,” Lidim interrupted with barely a glance for his brother Adept. “That’s all, Hestir. You may return to your other duties now.”

Hestir wasted no time in obeying that command, bowing briefly before disappearing back into the crowd. Lorand wanted to watch him go just to be sure he
was
gone, but Lidim put a distracting hand to his shoulder.

“Listen to me, now, Dom Coll,” he said, sounding brisk and very efficient. “We’ll be starting very soon, and you need to know how things will work. Participants will be called up one at a time to tackle the exercise, which I’ll explain to the audience and yourselves once we begin. Each participant’s performance will be timed, but you and the others aren’t to know how anyone else has done. That goes for your own time as well, and once you’ve completed the exercise you’ll leave the building and return to your residence. The winner will be notified—and given his or her gold—as soon as all the results are tabulated. Any questions?”

“One,” Lorand responded, unsure about whether or not he liked this man’s abrupt manner. “I can see the clock standing right there, in front of those seated people. What happens if I turn away from the exercise too soon and
do
manage to find out my own time? Will I be executed, or simply banished forever from the realm?”

“Very droll, Dom Coll,” Lidim replied with the faintest smile Lorand had ever seen. “Neither thing will happen, of course, as I expect every contestant to be properly circumspect. Now, if you will take a seat with the others, I’ll be able to begin.”

It was no surprise when Lidim gestured to the people seated behind the clock, since they were the only ones in the room who were unable to see what the clock would show. Lorand gave up trying to rattle Lidim and shrugged his agreement, then made his way over to the last remaining empty chair. In addition to the woman and himself there were seven other people, but only one man looked as nervous as the woman. The rest seemed … almost bored, but Lorand decided he must be mistaken. Even he wasn’t bored, and
he
meant to lose.

“Attention, everyone, give me your attention, please,” Lidim called out almost as soon as Lorand was seated, holding up one hand as he spoke. “We’re ready to begin, so if everyone will settle down, I’ll explain what this exercise consists of.”

The crowd shifted so that everyone faced the area Lidim stood in front of, and once silence settled over them Lidim gestured. Two men came forward to remove the curtain blocking sight of the area, and once they were gone Lidim gestured again, this time behind himself.

“The large cube that you see there is the main basis of this contest,” he said as a murmur went through the crowd. “The cube is made up of various layers, each of which is a different sort of material. The competitors will each be provided with a cube, the various components arranged in different orders, and their job will be to disassemble the thing layer by layer until it’s gone. They’ll need to discern what each of the materials is, of course, and remove the entire layer at once. And now for our first competitor.”

The girl drew in her breath a bit sharply when Lidim put out his hand to her, but she still rose and went to join him where he stood. Lidim positioned her behind a thick white line painted on the floor, spoke to her briefly and silently, then left her alone. The girl took a deep breath as she examined the four-foot-square cube where it rested on a low platform, and then she began the exercise.

Lorand watched her take apart the first layer of the cube, which was made of heavy leather. The leather came apart and crumbled to nothing at all at once, and her effort impressed Lorand to the point of raising his brows. The girl was
strong
, much more so than the so-called Adepts around her, and Lorand couldn’t help wondering what it would take to be better than her. Not that he wasn’t glad he wouldn’t have to be, of course. Trying to pull in enough power to top someone else was a good way to destroy yourself.

The layer of leather had been painted a splotchy orange and tan, making it look like some cheap and gaudy cloth. The girl had had no more trouble telling that it was leather than Lorand had, but she paused briefly before tackling the next layer, which showed itself as green and purple diagonals. It turned out to be copper and quickly went the way of the leather, but Lorand took careful note of the girl’s pause. No matter how quickly he figured out what something was, he’d have to remember to pause just the way she was doing.

The girl went through half a dozen layers in the same way, and every time she dissolved one the cube dropped a short distance to the platform, showing that all six sides were being taken apart at the same time. The cube also shrank, of course, until it disappeared with the very last layer. A smattering of polite applause broke out then, and Lidim walked over to the girl and spoke to her softly again. Lorand noticed the way she deliberately kept her back turned to the clock until someone came over to join her and Lidim, and then she followed the newcomer away without hesitation.

“And now we’re ready for our second competitor,” Lidim announced, gesturing to the man who had been sitting next to the girl. “It’s too bad for him that the young lady did such a marvelous job, and now he’s in the position of needing to do better or lose to her. But I’m sure he’ll try his best, and will be able to say that honestly if he does happen to lose.”

A ripple of amusement went through the crowd as the man stood himself where the girl had been. Lorand saw the stiffness of the man’s stance and the way he’d squared his shoulders, those two things, among others, speaking of how determined the man was to keep himself from embarrassment. Lorand knew just how he felt, but also knew
he
would not be standing like that. No matter how distasteful the matter would now be, Lorand was still determined to lose.

Lidim spoke to the man softly for a moment, then left him alone to begin the exercise. A second cube had been brought in and wrestled to the low platform, and its top layer was orange and red and yellow, like a fire gone flat and crazy. The man at the white line studied it a brief moment, then dissolved the layer of camouflaged wood.