Competitions (19 page)

“Please remember what’s necessary here, Lord Bron,” Deever began to lecture as they reached the cubicle. “The patterns you’ve been taught to weave since childhood are what’s necessary, so let’s try not to forget again to use them.”

Once again Bron had to grit his teeth, this time because Deever was such a fool. All children of their class were taught to weave with their talent as soon as they became capable of doing it, and it was unreasonable to expect an adult to constantly remember a child’s game. So he’d forgotten to weave his fires once or twice; there was no need to make him seem so feebleminded that he’d always forget.

But it was now time to get rid of this device for good and all, so Bron stomped down on the pedal. The lid of the box flew open and a cloud of soil was thrown into the air, a cloud that didn’t stay aloft long. But Bron was ready, so he reached out with his
woven
fires and burned all that soil the way he wanted to burn Deever and his superior Lord Rigos. It felt marvelous, magnificent, and then it was all done.

“Well, how gratifying,” Deever said, his brows high with surprise. “You’ve actually burned nearly every grain of soil. A few small grains escaped you, but they’re nothing to be concerned about. Congratulations, Lord Bron, on achieving your first mastery.”

“And tomorrow I intend to achieve the second,” Bron said loftily, chest swelling with well-earned pride. “I’m tired of being called lazy and incompetent, so I’m going to
show
all of you.”

“I’m delighted to hear that, Lord Bron, so let’s get to practicing the next exercise as soon as the servants set up the equipment. We haven’t much time, you know, so we dare not waste any.”

“You talk as if the competitions are to begin after this week’s end,” Bron scoffed, annoyed that he wasn’t yet to be allowed to return to bed. “There’s a lot more time than that, so why must we engage in this ridiculous rush?”

“The competitions may not be that close, but the forming of Blendings is set to begin only a few days past next week’s end. The longer it takes for your group to be ready to be formed into a Blending, the less practice time you’ll have
as
a Blending. We’d prefer not to have any of our groups look overly foolish when they come forward to compete, but all we can do is warn you. If you fail to heed that warning, you’ll be the ones who must live with the ridicule of your peers afterward.”

Deever was now pretending not to study him, but in truth was watching very closely. That threat of ridicule was meant to reach him and galvanize him into action, so he would have to pretend that it had. What had really reached Bron, however, was the knowledge of how close they were to being formed into a Blending. They
would
need all the practice they could get if they were to win, so there was nothing else for it.

“You’re quite right, Deever,” Bron said as he squared his shoulders. “Time
is
running short, so let’s have the servants out here to arrange the next mechanism. I intend to finish today with
two
masteries.”

“I bow to your wisdom, Lord Bron, and will fetch the servants myself,” Deever said with a nod of his head rather than a bow. “I’ll return in a moment.”

Bron watched the powerless fool walk away back toward the house, knowing the man wore a smirk now that Bron couldn’t see it. Deever thought he was so good despite his family’s lacks, but even his talent couldn’t be all that much if he was training rather than doing. No, Bron was his superior in all ways, and when
his
Blending won the competition Deever’s smirk would be wiped from his face for good and all.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Forgive me for being tardy, Lady Selendi, but I’m afraid everyone is tardy this morning,” Pracer said as he strode into the conservatory where Selendi sat taking tea. “You’ve surely heard the news?”

“About Lady Elfini?” Selendi said, putting her cup aside and leaning forward. “Every servant in the house is chattering about it, and my mother has gone to visit one of her friends, who lives only a short distance away from the Weil estate. If
she
doesn’t get all the details no one will, but what have
you
heard?”

“That poor Lady Elfini was hacked to death by a deranged Guild member,” Pracer said as he took a chair and began to pour his own cup of tea. “People are remembering that no one liked the idea of having a Guild for the talentless, but the Advisors have always insisted on protecting them. No matter how this turns out, the Advisors will have some answering to do.”

“We heard that the deranged lunatic tied Lord Aston to a wall and whipped him almost to death,” Selendi said, more interested in discussing the good parts. People who went on about the Guild were so
boring
… “Lord Aston may or may not be able to identify the murderer, depending on whether or not the monster wore a mask.”

“The deed itself was so arrogant, that the deviant most likely spurned the idea of a mask,” Pracer said after sipping at his tea. “Can you imagine, chopping someone up into little pieces right in front of her husband, and then taking the time to almost kill
him
as well? Deranged simply doesn’t cover it, not without adding arrogant as well, and that describes most of the Guild’s members.”

“How many Guild members do you know?” Selendi asked, partially distracted. “Only a few of them come from noble families, and I’ve never met even one.”

“Well, I’ve never met any of them either, but everyone knows the truth,” Pracer admitted reluctantly. “The Guild is full of abnormal deviants, and shouldn’t be allowed to continue in existence.”

“Oh, Pracer, that’s just your father talking,” Selendi said with an impatient shake of her head. “Why you have to parrot his ridiculous ideas I don’t know, but it’s terribly tiring. Do you hear
me
parroting
my
father’s opinions? My father is much more important than yours, so if
I
don’t do it
you
have absolutely no excuse.”

“I don’t need an excuse,” Pracer said, sitting back as he showed a small, vindictive smile. “I’m a man and will be taking over from my father one day, and must therefore carry on the proper tradition. You’re just a girl and no one will ever listen to you in any event, so it doesn’t matter in the least what you say. Shall we get to the practicing now?”

“Certainly,” Selendi agreed coldly, thoroughly insulted. She began to rise from her chair, but then a thought came to her. “Just a minute. If Lady Elfini and Lord Aston were attacked by someone without any talent, why didn’t they use their own talent to protect themselves? Even ordinary ability can overcome someone without any at all, so how did that … talentless deviant get away with it?”

Pracer suddenly looked stricken rather than handsome and cool, bringing Selendi a good deal of satisfaction. She’d wanted to get even for that comment he’d made about how unimportant she was, and now it looked like she had.

“Why … they were probably … taken unawares, that’s it, they were taken unawares,” Pracer suddenly suggested, his expression clearing. “Yes, the monster crept up on them while they weren’t looking, and then it was too late to stop him.”

“But you said Lady Elfini was hacked to death while Lord Aston watched,” Selendi pointed out at once. “That means he should have been able to do something, and yet he didn’t.”

“Maybe
he
was beaten first,” Pracer returned, then nodded his approval of the idea. “Yes, he was beaten first after being crept up on, and then, when Lady Elfini heard his screams and came running, she was taken from behind as well. It’s all quite simple once one thinks about it.”

“Simple is the word,” Selendi retorted with a sniff. “If Lord Aston was awake enough to scream, he was certainly awake enough to also use his talent. If he couldn’t use his talent he also couldn’t scream, so Lady Elfini would have had no
reason
to come running in. That means it probably wasn’t someone without talent after all, but someone with more talent than the two of them. That means you’d better watch out, in case it turns out that
I’m
the murderer.”

“If you ever murdered someone, it would be someone male and it would be in bed,” Pracer said with a sudden grin, finally abandoning his ridiculous stance and air of superiority. “I apologize profoundly for upsetting you, my sweet, and hope my foolishness won’t keep us from ending your practice time in the usual way.”

“That all depends on how good a weekly report I can look forward to,” Selendi said, keeping him from taking her hand by standing up. “I didn’t like the last one at all, especially when it was read out loud by Lord Rigos in front of everyone. Next week’s report will be much better—won’t it?”

“I promise it will be as good as I can make it without actually lying,” Pracer said, his tone begging for understanding as he also stood. “Lying about your progress is the one thing I can’t do, sweetling, at least not very much. They
will
eventually find out when you reach the competitions, and then they’ll have my privates as well as my head. Please be reasonable, because I’m also doing it for
your
good.”

“Raela’s father said that same exact thing all those years ago just before he spanked her so hard she couldn’t sit down for the rest of the day,” Selendi pointed out, again keeping him from taking her hand by moving it back out of reach. “He also forbid her to associate with the rest of the girls in our group, so we were never able to visit that marvelous house again. I don’t like things done for my own good, not unless
I
decide they need doing.”

“But you did decide,” Pracer said, now sounding like a merchant trying to sell her cotton at the price of silk. “You said you’d die if you made a fool of yourself in front of everyone, but that’s exactly what will happen if I lie about your progress. You won’t be able to match the others in your group when you’re formed into a Blending, and everyone will be able to tell that the fault is yours.”

Selendi still didn’t know how that would be possible, but even the chance of it gave her pause. She
would
die if she ended up looking foolish in front of everyone, but even more importantly she hated the thought of being outdone by those oafish men in her group. And she suddenly remembered that they were all supposed to start showing some progress, and now she had the excuse to do just that.

“Oh, all right, I’ll work at your silly exercises,” she grudged, taking the opportunity to make him believe she did
him
the favor. “But you’d better be really good afterward, or I’ll start inviting other men over for post-practice relaxation.”

“I promise to be absolutely marvelous for you,” he answered with a grin, then stood aside with a small bow. “After you, sweetling, who nevertheless remains a lady who
cannot
be matched.”

Selendi knew he wasn’t referring to her talent with Air magic, so she let a pleased little smile curve her lips as she led the way out to the side garden. A small resin building had been established there, one that was capable of being sealed completely. The three servants assigned to be her subjects were already there, of course, waiting outside and whispering among themselves. Selendi knew what they had to be whispering about, but refused to return to the subject of the grisly murder. She really did want to have Pracer after the practice, and hearing him sound off again would just ruin the mood.

When the servants saw them coming they entered the small building, and a moment later Selendi led Pracer inside after them. The lamps behind their clear resin windows had already been lit, and the servants had lined up in a straight row. Selendi found a place on the comfortable couch she’d had installed while Pracer sealed the building, and by the time he sat down beside her she was ready to start.

“I’m about to pull the rope that will release the smoke,” Pracer warned, reaching to the rope hanging above the couch. “All right, here we go.”

Selendi had no idea how they managed to fill tanks with smoke, but understanding the method wasn’t necessary to countering the presence of the smoke. She’d already wrapped herself and the three nervous servants in bubbles of air, this time making sure the bubbles didn’t leak. The servants had suffered while she was in the midst of pretending to be less able than she really was, but the time for that was over.

“All right, now the subject at the end will move apart from the others,” Pracer said, gesturing to the servant on the right side of the line. “Make sure you keep your sphere intact while you divide it in two.”

Selendi felt annoyed at the way he spoke to her, sounding as though he spoke to a backward child instead. But he always did that during practice, acting the full ten years and more older than her that he was, so she forced herself to ignore it and complete the separation. No more than the faintest trace of smoke popped in before she sealed both sides of the separation, but Pracer didn’t seem to notice.

“That was marvelous, Lady Selendi, just marvelous!” he enthused, turning his head to give her a beautiful smile. “One more successful separation, and you’ll have earned
two
masteries.”

Selendi hadn’t realized she would get anything
directly
from doing that exercise, so it came as a very pleasant surprise to hear that she already had one mastery. But one wasn’t enough; she wanted both, and wasn’t above exerting herself a bit in order to get it.

This time it was the servant on the left side of the line who moved, and Selendi concentrated on separating the air bubble a second time. She could see how it would be possible to keep every bit of smoke out of the pockets of air, but it was also a great deal more trouble. So she let that faint trace of smoke in again instead, and again Pracer missed it.

“Lady Selendi, you’ve done it!” Pracer exulted, turning to her to give her a radiant smile through the smoke that filled the room but not their individual bubbles. “Two masteries one after the other! Next week my report will
glow
, and you have my word on that.”

He got up then and went to unseal the door, and Selendi was so delighted that she forgot what she was in the midst of and released the protection around the servants before the door was open. The heavy smoke immediately began to make them cough, and as soon as the door was open they rushed outside. Selendi joined Pracer at the door, both of them waiting for the smoke to clear out completely, and once it had Pracer closed the door again, then turned to her with a grin.