Convergence (56 page)

So he would be released to
not
go home, which would leave him where? Even if Mother continued to pay his allowance, how far would that rather modest amount go? And what would he do if the allowance was stopped, which was much more likely? Beg in the streets? Look for a woman like Aminto who had power and gold enough to support him as well as
herself
? Something told him he'd be better off choosing the streets and begging. . . .

But all that added up to a decision on his part. He took another deep breath, this time one of determination rather than depression, enjoying the sense of freedom which now filled him. Simply living would quickly become worse than a clean, swift death, so what did he have to lose by pressing his limits? If he lived it had to be on
his
terms, which meant winning a place for himself that couldn't be taken away at someone's whim. He was a member of the nobility, after all, so who had a better chance of being victorious?

Turning his attention to the ribbons again, Rion opened himself to enough more power to handle four separate columns of air. That brought him the hint of a tingle he'd never felt before, but the tingle faded quickly and didn't return so he wasn't distracted. Handling four columns and keeping them separate took concentration, but that too became easier with practice. Not easy, at least not at first, but certainly easier every time he did it from scratch.

By the time Rion had formed the third complicated arrangement using four ribbons and was no longer straining, Aminto came by with a placard announcing the end of the session. Instead of simply dropping the ribbons, Rion put them neatly back on the table where they belonged before he left the cubicle. Follil and the two women stood near the door with Aminto, and when Rion joined them Aminto smiled at him.

"For you, Dom Mardimil, another identification card with your name corrected, and our apologies for the error," she said, handing him the new card and chain arrangement which he'd forgotten he'd asked for. "I'll take the incorrect one, if you please."

Rion had been looking around for a place to throw away the card with his former name, but hadn't found one. Giving the thing to Aminto let him be rid of it, and then he put on the new identification with a good deal of pleasure.

"I'm also delighted to be able to inform you that you may choose to come here two hours later tomorrow morning," she continued, that purr still in her voice. "Your accomplishments have earned you that, as well as a new and even better cubicle. A pity these others will never earn the same. Good evening to you now, and I'll see you again tomorrow."

She turned left and walked away from them then, but not before showing Rion the gleam in her eyes at mention of the next day. She apparently looked forward to something that would never happen if
he
had any say in the matter, but there was no need to mention that. He would also save correcting her use of "dom" rather than "lord" to him, specifically if she tried to press him. Some men might accept that sort of treatment, but Rion had no intentions of being one of them.

Follil and the women glared at him before leaving the room with noses in the air, and that amused Rion as he followed. He had quite a lot of practice at being snubbed or ignored, and by people who were much better at it than these three fools. And it seemed to have stopped raining, which was delightful news. They would be able to await their coaches out front in the fresh air, rather than crowded together inside by the side door.

Rion felt considerably drained, but stepping outside and taking a deep breath of rain-freshened air restored him a bit. He stood in the midst of a number of others, and it suddenly occurred to him that he ought to be looking for the ladies he'd arrived with. So he turned to do just that—and promptly found himself being bounced off of. Someone had bumped into him, a rather small and soft someone.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry!" a lovely—and somehow familiar—voice exclaimed. "I should have been watching where I was—Oh, goodness."

Rion looked down to see the lady he'd chosen in the tavern two nights earlier, the beautiful girl with dark hair and large green eyes. She wore considerably more clothing now, quite attractive and tasteful clothing, in fact, but her lovely face was flushed with embarrassment.

"Please excuse me, sir," she said hurriedly, a worried look also in her eyes. "We've never met, of course, and I didn't mean to imply that we had. I'll just—"

"But of course we've met," Rion interrupted, wondering why the pretty little thing seemed so nervous. "I find myself guilty of the unforgivable sin of not recalling your name, but I certainly remember all the rest—and with a great deal of fondness. I'm Rion Mardimil."

"And I'm Naran Whisf," she replied with an even deeper blush, then lowered her voice to add, "Are you sure you don't mind talking to me? Most gentlemen find it embarrassing, so I've learned not to 'recognize' anyone. Even when they look as marvelous as you do in those clothes . . ."

Her voice trailed off in a way that made Rion grin as her gaze moved over him. Now
here
was appreciation from a lady that a man could enjoy getting.

"Not only don't I mind, I'm delighted we've run into each other again," he said, taking her slender and graceful hand to bend over. "It pains me that circumstances are such that I'm unable to invite you to supper, but I expect that to change very shortly. May I call on you when they do?"

"Oh, that would be wonderful," she said adoringly, her fingers to the place on her hand where his lips had touched. "I've never been invited to supper . . . But I really must ask you to excuse me now. I have a—an appointment here, and I'm already a bit late. It was so nice to see you again . . ."

"Wait," Rion said as she began to leave. "Where can I find you when the supper becomes possible?
At the tavern?"

"Oh, no, that was really my first time there, and I haven't gone back," she said with a small laugh. "The memory of our time together was too wonderful to ruin. I live in Seeleem Street, Wishfon White. First
is
Wishfon Blue, then Wishfon Green, then Wishfon White."

"I'll find it," Rion called after her as she fled into the building with a final wave. He really did hate to see her go, and that was very strange. He'd lain with the girl, but other than that knew nothing about her. Why, then, was he even now wishing he hadn't had to let her go?

The question was so absorbing that the ladies found him instead of him finding them. Their coach was just behind the one now being boarded, so when it pulled up he helped them inside and climbed in himself. All three of them looked just as tired as he felt, and when the carriage began to move, Tamrissa sighed deeply.

"On the way home at last," she said with weary satisfaction. "And if we ladies don't get to use the bath house first, I vow to poison every gentleman in the residence."

"Anything but that," Rion pleaded with a grin while Jowi laughed. "Lunch was poisoning enough for one day, so for my part I willingly grant you ladies first use. And since the others surely know what's good for them, I'm certain they'll agree."

"Good," Tamrissa said, her bloodthirsty satisfaction unusual but seeming perfectly natural. "I'm really too tired to bother with poison, but I will if I have to. On important worldly matters, one must always stand firm."

Rion joined Jowi's second laugh, but noticed that Beldara was back to ignoring the world. This time the red-haired woman's silence seemed more sullen and seething than previously, but Rion was too uninterested to wonder why. He had much better things to think about, like Naran Whist and when he would be able to see her again. He'd have to get to those competitions as quickly as possible, and then he'd have to win. . . .

They were nearly to the house before Rion remembered that Jowi was there, and what his plans had been concerning her. He still found her incredibly, deliciously attractive, but something small had changed inside him. No longer was he willing to harm Coll in order to have Jowi to himself, which came as a great relief. He liked Coll and valued the man's advice, and now that would not have to end. Perhaps he would mention Naran to Coll, but then again, perhaps not. . . .

thirty

Jowi took a wrap with her to the bath house rather than a change of clothing, and was pleased to find Tamrissa doing the same. They would have to dress again for dinner, and her weary body felt that that was quite soon enough.

"No sign of Beldara," Tamrissa remarked as they moved up the walk toward the bath house. "Either she's already inside, or she's decided against joining us. And if she's already here, I'm certain she'll leave as soon as
I
walk in."

"You outdid her, then," Jowi said with an approving nod. "I was afraid you might be foolish enough to let
her
do better just for the sake of peace."

"In a manner of speaking I did just that until lunchtime, and then I realized how foolish I was being," Tamrissa answered, reaching for the door pull. "What was
your
session like?"

"Difficult in more ways than one," Jowi replied, rubbing her back with one hand as she walked in to find the bath house empty—as she'd known it would be. "That first chair was impossible, and the second one was almost as bad. They generated fields of pitching emotions for us, and we had to balance tiny spheres in the field. You have to use both strength and finesse to balance the emotional field, and once you get it settled with two spheres, they add a third. It goes all the way up to five spheres, with each balance-point different, but I don't know what happens after that."

"After that, I think, are the competitions," Tamrissa said slowly, also slowing in the midst of undressing. "Jowi
...
I
kept my progress down to a minimum at first because of what we discussed, you know, not knowing what happened to all those people who passed the test. I still don't know if I did the right thing by passing so many of the others, but we were told that this is the last week of sessions. Anyone who doesn't qualify by week's end won't have another chance to do it."

"We weren't told that," Jowi said with a frown, also pausing for a moment. "What did they say would happen to those who don't qualify?"

"Nothing specific, except for being thrown out of their residence penniless," Tamrissa said, and Jowi was able to feel the girl's surge of fear at the thought. "That would be horrible for me, but you shouldn't mind it much. It would let you continue on with the plans you've made."

"Would it?" Jowi asked, finally able to discuss the thoughts she'd had on the subject. "It occurred to me that I've never met anyone who'd been through testing for High, and didn't even know someone who had. The only Middles I've ever met weren't strong enough to qualify for testing, so they don't count. Have
you
ever met a former applicant, or know someone who met one?"

"No," Tamrissa admitted, and again Jowi felt a thrill of fear flash through the other woman. "That could mean there are just very few of them, or else—or else no one who fails to qualify really is turned loose. Do you think they're . . . killed?"

"I have no idea," Jowi admitted frankly, a faint chill touching her as well. "But we have to remember that death isn't the worst thing that can be done to you. That's why I worked as hard as I could, on the theory that a slim chance is better than none. We also don't know what happens to successful applicants who don't win a place as High, but whatever it is won't happen as soon as the result of failing to qualify."

Tamrissa silently nodded her reluctant agreement with that, and then they finished undressing in a matching silence. Jowi led the way into the water, submerged completely to rid
herself
of the leavings of sweat, then headed for a corner and a headrest where she might soak a little.

"We can't stay in here
too
long, but I'm in no state to just wash and get out," Jowi said when Tamrissa came up from her own submersion. "And I've been thinking that we ought to tell the others about what we've been discussing. They should have the chance to decide which they'd rather risk, success or failure."

"That assumes they all have the choice," Tamrissa pointed out, gliding to another head rest near Jowi's. "Judging by all the people in my session who haven't gotten anywhere—or who are afraid to try—some of the others here will fall into the same category. Or will choose to fall into it, without even considering anything else."

"You sound as if you mean someone in particular," Jowi commented, turning her head a bit to look at the girl. "Who's so blindly determined to fail that they'll take the chance of being killed or worse?"