Convergence (12 page)

And with that the man shut the wide panel, leaving Lorand shocked and disbelieving. They couldn't be serious about that, about it being his life if he failed! That was ridiculous and totally unreasonable, not to mention insane! People don't
kill
you if you fail, they just—

All thoughts of protest died when the smaller square windows opened all around, and soil began to pour through them. Lorand was already on his feet, and reflex sent his head down and his arms up to keep the cascading earth away from his face. His last glimpse said they meant to drop tons of earth on him, enough to bury him alive. But they also hadn't told him what to
do,
what way they expected him to save himself!

And that was when the chills hit, despite the dust and closeness generated by the falling soil. How Lorand avoided dying was for
him
to figure out, there on the spot, in the middle of the cascading earth. It had already begun to pile up on the floor, showing how little time it would take to fill the room completely. He would be dead long before that happened, of course, buried under the first tons of earth to rise above his six-feet-plus worth of height.

Lorand had never been so frightened in his entire life, but when he began to cough and choke on the dust
rising
into the air he also began to get angry. He
wanted
to be there and show what he could do, but no one had stopped to find that out. They'd simply assumed he had to be forced into trying his best, and had put his life at risk to accomplish that. They were ignorant fools and would-be murderers, and he'd show them the error of their ways if it was the last thing he did!

And that was when he reached for the power, finding it leaping to join with him even more eagerly than it usually did. He used it first to cause the earth to fall around rather than on him, at the same time clearing the dust from the air he breathed. That gave him a place to stand and think in peace, at least for a handful of minutes. After that he'd start to run out of time, but he hadn't yet reached that point. He still had time to think of something . . .

He sent a searching gaze all around the room, looking for something,
anything
that would help to save him, and he almost missed it. With all that earth pouring out of the walls it was hard to see anything clearly, but he finally noticed that the large panel his guide had opened and spoken from wasn't joining the others in pouring dirt on him. Beyond the stream of earth he could just see that it remained closed and quiet, and even more importantly didn't have mounds of earth piled in front of it. The door he'd come in by did, and trying to clear it would have been futile even if he could have opened it. It was possible to do many things using Earth magic, but making earth go against its nature and
not
mound wasn't something that would work for long
.

So that left the large panel as Lorand's only chance for escape. The biggest problem with
that,
however, was the panel's location, a good six feet above Lorand's head. The falling earth had already mounded knee-deep around Lorand and got deeper by the minute, but it wasn't deep enough—or firm enough—to stand on to
reach
that panel.

Lorand automatically pushed his clear space out a little farther as he looked around again, wasting no strength or effort on keeping his feet and legs free. When he thought of something to do he'd free himself, but right now he needed to figure out how to get a lot higher. If only there was something to climb on! The short stool was useless, of course, not to mention being half buried already. There had to be something—!

And then the obvious answer came to Lorand with a groan. The panel was the only way out of that room, and the only way to reach it was to climb something. The only thing available to climb was the falling earth, which he'd be able to fashion into a flight of stairs. It was just about certain he was
meant
to use the earth to fashion a stairway, but the solution wasn't as easy to do as it was to say. Magic had all the limitations of the element of its affinity, and earth was notoriously stubborn about not allowing the impossible.

Like stacking it up to make a stairway, for instance.
Even a temporary stairway had to be properly and firmly based, otherwise the whole construction would
come
tumbling down at the worst possible minute. Even a ramp would need a usable angle, one that could be climbed in some way that wasn't straight up. That room wasn't big enough to allow the construction of a decent ramp so it would have to be stairs after all, but that brought up one very important question: was there enough earth to build a usable stairway
with?

Lorand looked up at the earth pouring out of the panels and groaned again. It was already deep enough in the room that his knees were covered, but that didn't mean there was enough earth to construct a stairway almost twelve feet high. His base would have to be the entire width of the room, otherwise he'd run out of tread space before he reached the necessary height. Or run out of building material.

Lorand cursed under his breath, suddenly realizing what he would have to do but not knowing if he could. He'd have to begin to build his stairway with the earth already available, and then would have to hold it together until enough new earth fell through to continue and complete the job. It would be one of the hardest things he'd ever done, requiring as it did that he split his attention and ability. While knowing that if he faltered, it would all come crashing down to bury him . . . Right, no problem at all.

A small stream of falling earth hit Lorand in the face, showing him the direct way that he'd let his attention wander. He wiped away the dirt even as he reestablished full control, realizing it was a good thing the lapse in attention had happened. It had been a mild lesson in what would happen if he let his attention wander again, when he would pay for the distraction with more than a dirty face. He knew what had to be done, so he'd better get started doing it.

Another minute of thought before beginning brought Lorand a small revelation. If he made his stairway only wide enough to hold his foot, he'd need less earth to make it which would in turn take less time. He'd been picturing fairly wide treads, but those weren't necessary. He only needed enough width for stability, and a base as wide as possible would help with that. Now to get down to it. . .

"Me and my big mouth," Lorand muttered after many long minutes of sweat-filled effort. Getting "down" to it had proven to be the first of his problems, since the earth that had already fallen was neither properly placed nor solidly packed. Lorand had to move the soil away from where he meant to construct his base, hold it back while placing his building material properly, then begin the first treads. He also had to keep the newly falling earth from damaging his stairway, while at the same time keep it off his face so that he could see. Not to mention breathe, which was becoming harder rather than easier.

By the time Lorand had half a dozen steps built, the stairway was better than five feet high, all the available earth had been used, and he himself had turned to mud because of the sweat pouring out of him. The magic flowed into him just as strongly as it ever had, but his handling of it wasn't the same. The more tired he became the harder it was to control the magic, and suddenly a new worry added itself to the rest:
would he continue to be able to
stay merged with his magic?

A spurt of falling earth broke through the shield he had over himself, adding itself to the mud already smeared on his face. Lorand wiped at it with the back of his hand, making the mess worse rather than better, wishing he could be impatient with himself over the brief lapse. But what he felt now was more fear than impatience, since every childhood horror story he'd ever heard was suddenly coming back to him. All those warnings against trying to do more with the power than you were naturally able to . . . How naughty children who didn't listen turned themselves into mindless vegetables that people had to put down like the poor, maimed animals they were . . .

If Lorand had had the strength he would have shuddered, knowing as he did that all those stories hadn't been exaggerations on the part of adults trying to keep their children manageable. He could still remember that little girl at school, when he'd been nine or ten and she'd been about the same. Her talent had been Water magic, she'd been incredibly strong for her age, and the indulgence of her parents had made her more arrogant than anyone should have been allowed to be.

Lorand carefully filtered more of the dust out of the air around him, needing to take a deep breath without tiny pieces of grit filling his mouth and lungs. That little girl had ignored the words of caution from their teachers, and had constantly searched for new ways to show how good she was. When spring came that year with its thunderstorms, the little girl had been delighted. She decided to gentle a thunderstorm the way Middle practitioners sometimes did, not realizing it took
more than one Middle
and more than Water magic. Lorand could still see her quietly slipping out of the schoolroom with a triumphant smile on her face . . .

Her screams had brought everyone running outside, but by then it was already too late for the girl. Afterward their teachers had explained that she'd summoned enough power to handle the thunderstorm, but hadn't
herself
been able to handle that much power. It had filled her beyond bursting, raging through her when her control slipped. The teachers had quickly herded the other children back inside the school building, but not before Lorand had seen the girl.

She'd been sitting slumped on the ground, the most horrible blankness and slackness in her face, a still-breathing body with no one at home any longer. No one home now, and never, ever again. . . .

Lorand did shudder then, and then another spurt of earth into his face brought him a frightening awareness. The soil was now coming faster and harder out of the openings, almost as if it meant to batter down his stairway along with himself. Now it would be more difficult to shield everything, not to mention harder to slow the rain of earth in order to work with it.

Lorand felt the aching weariness in both his body and his mind, at the same time becoming too aware of the increasing strength of his magic. He would need that much strength and more to do what had to be done, but would he be able to handle it? A sickening picture of that little girl's face rose up before him, bringing with it a terrible chill. He'd have to
find
a way to handle the magic, but what if he failed and ended up the same way? How was he supposed to do what was necessary with
that
hanging over him?
How .
..?

Seven

Jowi waited for the guard to come to the door after the coach had stopped, and then let the man help her to the ground. The neighborhood was odd, not the middle-of-town or residential area she'd been expecting the coach to stop in. A very large stone wall stood directly ahead with guardsmen in front of the openings, and it was even possible to see other coaches a short distance away to either side
of her own
. The coach to her right disgorged two men who were, by their bucolic clothing, obviously from the country, and neither one even glanced in her direction. They were too busy staring at the massive wall with their mouths open.

The single man leaving the coach to Jowi's left was dressed in the height of fashion, and his annoyed movements and sullen frown directed toward the coach he'd just left told her he was probably newly arrived and therefore would be just as useless for her purposes. She needed someone who could tell her which neighborhood to rent her house in, something she intended to see to before getting around to that testing. That way she'd be all ready to begin her new life as soon as she failed that tiresome test.

"Just step this way, ma'am," the coach guard said to her gently and carefully, gesturing toward the closest entrance through the wall. "Hark and
me'll
carry your trunk that far, and then the gate guards'll get somebody to take over."

"That's
so
sweet of you," Jowi told the man with a warm, encouraging smile, trying to remember what his name was. "I feel so safe and comfortable with you looking after me, but I must confess that this place frightens me. I was hoping to be taken somewhere . . . nicer, where I'll find it possible

to
rent a house. You don't happen to know a neighborhood like that, do you?"

The wistfulness Jowi put into the question nearly melted the man where he stood, but he still found it possible to shake his head regretfully.

"We can't take you no place else than here, ma'am," he said, sounding as if he were admitting some terrible crime. "Your ticket says you're here to test for High practitioner, and this is where all applicants got to be taken. First you gotta register, and then you can ask about that house."