Convergence (73 page)

"Are we ready to begin now?" Genovir asked with the pleasant patience that was beginning to grate on Jowi. They'd both finished their cups of tea, and apparently having a second cup wasn't part of the grand plan.

"Oh, yes, I'm quite ready to begin," Jowi answered, then stood as Genovir did. She had to remember to be eager about some things, not so eager about others. And she had to remember that she was supposed to be nearly penniless. Her cache of gold was quite safe where she'd hidden it, but it had to be forgotten about. That meant she had to earn at least one more silver din before week's end, but would that be considered adequate progress? Assuming she found herself able to move ahead rather quickly, just how quickly
should that
be allowed to happen?

Jowi sighed as she followed Genovir onto the path leading to the first of the small, round resin buildings. The next days weren't likely to be pleasant, not in the least. . . .

forty-one

Rion left the coach without a backward glance, still too wrapped up in his plans and feelings to be able to concern himself with those around him.
Especially when things didn't seem to be going well for the others.
Tamrissa and Valiant Ro appeared to have had some kind of falling out, and there was a definite . . . distance between Jowi and Lorand Coll. Perhaps the ladies now regretted having given their attentions to other men rather than him, but that possibility had to be shelved for the moment along with the rest.

This time there were no guardsmen to bother with, so Rion walked through the opening in the resin wall. Beyond lay an open area which wasn't terribly large, then an expanse of ordinary tables and chairs, and then a stretch of lawn broken only by stone paths. Two small, round resin buildings stood beyond the lawn to the left, and two similar but larger buildings stood to the right. There was nothing to say what any of the buildings were for, and that annoyed Rion.

"Good morning," a voice said, and Rion turned to see a man approaching him. The man was dressed plainly but rather well in blue trousers, a pale green shirt, and a light gray vest, but the expensive clothing would have looked better on a thinner man. This one obviously enjoyed indulging himself at the expense of his waistline, and even through sleeves his arms looked fleshy rather than muscular. A half beard circled his mouth and matched the brown of his hair, all of that ordinariness working to camouflage the sharp look in his dark brown eyes.

"I'm Padril, the Adept assigned to assist you," the man said, stopping to give Rion a quick inspection with those eyes. "I see they were right, and your name
is
incorrect on your identification card. I'll arrange for a proper one immediately, and—"

"No," Rion interrupted, outrage suddenly beginning to grow in him. "My correct name is just as you see it on
this
card, and it's not to be changed to anything else. You may tell
whomever
else is involved that that decision is final."

"They're certain to find that pronouncement confusing," Padril said, now looking at Rion with curiosity. "Apparently someone made quite a fuss over the mistake, and insisted that it be corrected at once. Now you tell me there
is
no mistake, and nothing's to be changed. I'm afraid explanations will be demanded before the matter can be resolved."

"As far as I'm concerned the matter is already resolved," Rion
answered,
his tone quite chill. "You may tell those people that I'm a grown man, and therefore completely capable of deciding what my name will be. If someone appears and disputes the correctness of that name, they need only refer
the someone
to me. No one's word is to be taken in this matter above mine."

"I doubt they'll be pleased, but I'll certainly pass on what you've said," Padril assured him, faint amusement behind the words. "Now that we've settled
that
misunderstanding, let's take a cup of tea and discuss what you're here for."

The man gestured toward one of the tables,
then
led the way over to it. Rion followed, watched as Padril paused to ring a bell hanging on a post before taking a seat,
then
took his own seat. By then a servant was coming toward them from behind a wall to the left, already carrying a tray with a pot and cups.

"I requested the tea just before you arrived," Padril explained while they were being given cups and then having the cups filled. "We take lunch and refreshment at these tables, and ringing a bell will bring you immediate service. It goes a bit more slowly at lunchtime, when most of us are here at the same time, but the wait never stretches beyond reason."

Rion nodded and sipped at the hot tea until the servant had left, then he gestured to the buildings.

"That, I take it, is where the goings-on go on," he said, trying to lighten his mood. "Do any of the buildings relate to one another, or do they all have separate purposes?"

"The two small ones are for practice, the two large ones for competitions," Padril replied without hesitation. "There are also two sorts of competitions for each segment, which I'll explain about shortly. You're not fond of idle chitchat, I take it. Most newcomers avoid the topic of what's to be required of them until their Adept guide insists on discussing it, but you've brought it up yourself. I would guess that this name thing has really upset you."

"You find it beyond reason that I'm merely eager to get on with things?" Rion countered, leaning back just a little in his chair. "An applicant's ultimate aim is supposed to be the achievement of a High position, and I've never heard of the position being awarded to someone shy and retiring. But perhaps I'm mistaken, and the reticent
are
the ones who achieve the glory."

"No, you aren't mistaken," Padril admitted with a chuckle. "The positions do indeed go to those most able to take and defend them. But my own position requires that I be certain the applicant under my wing is able to do his or her best, and in your case I'm not certain at all. Are you unaware of the fact that inner turmoil can and does interfere with the full use of your talent?"

"Truthfully, I've never heard that," Rion said, and the words
were
the truth. He'd never heard anyone discuss the subject, but his own observations didn't match the conclusion. A week earlier he would have said so without hesitation, but now some newly-awakened sense of caution made him keep the matter to himself.

"The connection between personal distress and a lessening of ability is quite well documented," Padril assured him with a sincere expression both on his face and in his eyes. "You must dismiss all other concerns when you engage in operating at this level, leaving your mind clear to concentrate on what's before you. If you tell me about the problem troubling you, it will not only make you feel considerably better, I'll then be better able to act on your behalf. If I can, I'd like to see to it that you're not troubled again."

Rion hesitated, uncomfortable with the thought of unburdening himself to a stranger, but there was no real harm in doing it. Padril would most likely find
himself
helpless before Mother's determination, but possibly one of the man's superiors would not be the same.

"If you can keep me from being troubled again, you'll undoubtedly be set on the Fivefold Throne all by yourself," Rion finally allowed with a wry smile. "I've recently decided to . . . exert my independence as an adult, and my mother dislikes the idea intensely. She's been insisting that I retain the name she gave me, but I find only the last part of it acceptable. I even had the identification card changed, and don't intend to allow it to be changed back again. But Mother does wield a good deal of power, so the battle won't be easily or quickly over with. If I were you, I'd seriously consider staying well out of the affair."

"It sounds as though that would certainly be the wisest course," Padril agreed, equally wry. "Mothers can sometimes be so unreasonable where their children are concerned. And when they have power as well . . . The temptation to withdraw is certainly there, but I'm afraid

I'll have to ignore it. Your potential value to the empire is a good deal greater than your mother's, so we have no choice but to support your stance rather than hers. Does knowing that ease your mind at all?"

"Actually, it does," Rion admitted, surprised to discover that he wasn't lying. "If you can keep Mother from distracting me, I should be able to give you a showing that will make you glad you did. And since that
is
supposed to be what I'm here for, things would work out quite well."

"Having something to point to before my superiors would help a good deal," Padril admitted in turn, now studying Rion thoughtfully. "Suppose I describe what will be expected of you, and then you give me an estimate of how quickly you think you can accomplish each thing."

"Go ahead," Rion agreed, now even more eager to get down to details. If these people could be gotten
actively
on his side, his problem with Mother might be solved rather more easily than he'd imagined.

"As I mentioned, there are two buildings for practice," Padril said with a nod for Rion's agreement. "In the first you will have six other people besides yourself, and you'll need to practice keeping them and yourself supplied with air to breathe while the room is being filled with smoke or some such that would make breathing difficult. At first the six will be together, but then they'll separate, first into two groups, then three, then they'll stand individually. How long do you think it will take you to accomplish all that?"

"Not long once I get the hang of working with more than three groups," Rion answered honestly, remembering the test he'd survived. "Learning comes rather easily to members of my class, after all, so I anticipate very little trouble."

"Good," Padril enthused, leaning forward just a bit with a warm smile on his face. "And for each milestone you master, you'll earn another silver din. But the achievements in the second building bring two silver dins each, and that's the place most applicants have the most trouble. Someone
like
you, though . . ."

"Won't have any trouble at all," Rion finished happily when the other man's voice trailed off. "What's involved that so many people have difficulty with it?"

"In a manner of speaking it's just the reverse of the first building," Padril said, still obviously approving. "You'll need to
take away
the air from about the six people, first with them standing in a group, to the end where they stand individually. It's really quite simple, so I don't understand why so many have trouble with it."

"They must have been members of the lower classes," Rion commented, already elated over what would soon be a major success. "And you need have no fear at all, since I've already practiced that little trick with two people and had no trouble at all. Six will simply take a bit more concentration and effort."

"Marvelous," Padril breathed, leaning back again with shining eyes. "You've already practiced what many of those sharing our aspect are unable to manage at all. You certainly will be worth an enormous amount to the empire, and I feel privileged to be the one who will assist you. When you reach the competitions—
But
I haven't described the competitions yet, have I? What a fool I am, to be so easily distracted by magnificence."

"And that's where the gold is paid," Rion said after joining Padril's self-laughter. "We must certainly
not
forget about the competitions."

"Oh, you'll undoubtedly soon be swimming in gold," Padril said with another laugh, then leaned forward again. "The first competitions are merely time trials, you and the others of your level working to see who can do the most the fastest. You'll certainly win there rather easily, and then you'll face others of your new level in true competition. Each of you will try to take the other's air while keeping your own, and at each stage more people will be added to 'your' side. When you win
there,
the gold will really begin to flow."

"I can hardly wait," Rion said, leaning back in his chair while visions of true independence flowed lazily through his mind. His power and importance would exceed Mother's rather than simply equaling what she wielded, and his happiness would thereafter be assured. No one would dare to tell him what to do or when and how to do it, and his protection of the sweet and lovely Naran would be personal and constant.

"I'm glad you were first to mention waiting," Padril said, bringing him back to the currently-real world. "I, too, can hardly wait to see what you'll accomplish, so what say we finish our tea and get you started, eh? The sooner
begun,
the sooner on to greater things."