Challenges (49 page)

Four common Blendings stood victorious in the first round, and the audience in the tiers began to scream and applaud like mad people…

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

“… total disaster!” Delin heard as he and the others were escorted back into the vast gathering area beneath the tiers. “Don’t you realize that the next Seated Blending is dead? Find out how this happened! Find that fool Twimmal, who seems to have disappeared! I want the ones responsible dragged in front of me in chains!”

The man ranting and raving was High Lord Embisson Ruhl, and Delin was fascinated to see that he was nearly foaming at the mouth. He screamed at the people around him, of course, most of whom were pale and unsteady. As was to be expected…

“Finding out the identity of those responsible is secondary right now,” another, calmer voice intervened, the voice of Advisor Zolind Maylock. “Our first concern is deciding what to do about this fiasco, what we’re willing to do and what we
can
do. One point I’m able to speak for my associates on is that we will
not
tolerate having commoners on the Fivefold Throne.”

“Then your only other option is to back
our
group,” Kambil put in with light friendliness, drawing everyone’s immediate attention. “We do happen to be the only noble Blending remaining, but as long as we survive, all is far from lost.”

“That remains to be seen,” Advisor Zolind countered, his voice quiet and showing nothing of emotion. “But since we discuss the matter, I’d be interested to know
how
you managed to survive when the others didn’t.”

“Possibly it was because our opponents were so poor,” Kambil replied with a shrug of innocence that made Delin want to laugh. “They were barely able to Blend, and we had the distinct impression that they hadn’t practiced much, if at all. Their strength was certainly adequate, but they had no idea what to do with it.”

“Whereas you knew exactly what to do with yours,” Zolind responded flatly, the expression in his eyes one of extreme unhappiness. “I now recall that your opponents were changed at the last moment, as a … favor to one of your number. We seem to have done you a larger favor than was intended, which means you may be correct about the options at my disposal. In any event our general plan has to be changed now, and it must be done quickly. If we try to delay tomorrow’s competitions, that rabble out there will tear the city apart.”

“My Lord Embisson!” a different voice came, and Delin looked around to see Lord Simin Dolf hurrying over—with an escort. From the pallor on Dolf’s face, it was clear that he’d never have come
without
the escort.

“My Lord Embisson, I have no idea what’s going on!” Dolf babbled as he reached his furious superior, his hands shaking visibly. “I did as I was instructed to do, and then I retired to see to … some private matters. The next thing I knew I was being accosted by these … these … glorified guardsmen, and dragged to this side of the amphitheater. I don’t know why, but … where are the rest of our Blendings?”

“They’re dead or dying, you incredible fool!” Lord Embisson snarled, glaring at his victim. “If you
had
done as you were instructed to, that would not be the case. And the chosen Blending would certainly not also be dead! I should have known better than to believe you’d gotten your womanizing under control! Your brother was obviously willing to swear to anything, and I—”

“No, my lord, please, that isn’t so!” Dolf interrupted with bottomless desperation, now actually wringing his hands. “I keyed the peasants personally, not just the ones who would be facing the chosen Blending, but also a second group decided on at random! They all responded properly, so I
know
it worked! If something happened after that, it can’t possibly be considered my fault!”

“I see,” Lord Embisson replied with a nod, his voice now low and deadly. “We’re to take your word for the fact that you keyed the peasants and they responded properly, and so we’re to look elsewhere for the one who is responsible for this disaster. Well,
Lord Simin
, you wanted this position so badly that you had your brother pull strings and reclaim favors, so now you have it—along with the responsibility for its failure. Take this man away, and make sure that I never lay eyes on him again.”

Dolf screamed as the members of Lord Embisson’s private guard dragged him off, the sound echoing eerily through the heavy silence in the vast area. Lord Embisson had handed down his judgment, and
no one
would ever see Simin Dolf again. Delin exchanged a glance with Kambil, both of them knowing they had to talk privately. The peasants facing Adriari’s group had obviously found a way to make use of the keying phrase Delin had sent them, but had they actually been so stupid as to share the information with their fellow peasants…?

“All right,” Advisor Zolind said once Dolf had been dragged away, once again capturing everyone’s immediate attention. “I’ve come to a decision but I warn you that it’s tentative, and it will remain so until I’m much more firmly convinced about this course of action. Your group and mine will have to have a long, serious talk this afternoon, but for the moment I’m prepared to make an offer.”

If Kambil had made any sort of flippant reply to that, Delin would certainly have killed him on the spot. Delin’s stomach was in so many knots that it was a miracle he could stand, and apparently the difficulty was shared, to some extent at least, by Kambil. The Spirit magic user retained his life by remaining silent, as did the others in the group, and Zolind nodded grudging approval.

“At least you’re wise enough to listen rather than talk,” the old man said. “That’s an encouraging sign, and will also be discussed between us later. For now, I tell you without guile that my support must be earned. You will be required to compete tomorrow as well as the following day, and not simply compete but triumph. Should you join your peers in death, my support will do you no good whatsoever.”

“The point can’t be argued,” Kambil responded with a faint smile, “and your offer is fair. All things of value must be paid for, most often with something other than gold. Our group is prepared to make that payment, and we will be honored to join you for a discussion later today.”

“A good beginning,” Zolind allowed, his expression unchanging. “Have them take you back to your residence, and we’ll meet later when I’m able to get away.”

Delin joined everyone else in bowing before they withdrew from Zolind’s presence, but the knots of his insides had changed in nature to smoldering nodes of fury. The miserable old man acted as though he were doing them a favor, when the obvious truth was that he had no choice but to back them. The way the peasants had swept the field had come as a great surprise to Delin and his group, but it had also been a delightful surprise. They were now the only nobly born contestants left, with no one of their own class to oppose them…

Which meant that victory was all but in their grasp. Delin began to whistle softly, a rollicking battle tune from many years earlier. The song celebrated complete success, and that made it completely fitting. Nothing but lumpish peasants stood between them and the Fivefold Throne, and soon the peasants would be gone.

Then …
then
!—their dreams would finally become a reality…

* * *

Zolind Maylock watched the five people walk away, for once finding it necessary to fight in order to keep his face expressionless. The only reason he’d been able to control himself at all was because it was the Arstin boy he’d spoken to. If he’d had to say even a single word to Moord…

“Sir, do you really intend to support them?” Embisson Ruhl asked quietly, a tightness to the man’s voice. As a High Lord, Ruhl was close to a number of Zolind’s fellow Advisors, and tended to behave accordingly. Zolind, however, regarded the man differently, and felt it was time to show the fact.

“You dare to question one of my decisions?” he asked just as softly, turning to stare at Ruhl. “Just who do you imagine you are?”

“Sir, I wasn’t questioning your decision,” Ruhl made haste to answer, wilting under Zolind’s stare as so many had before him. “I’m simply asking for enlightenment, as I’m aware of what close friends you were with Ollon Kapmar. It was my understanding that you came here today primarily to get a good look at his murderer.”

“And what a lucky thing that decision was,” Zolind muttered, turning again to send his hatred after Delin Moord. “If I weren’t here, you’d probably have ordered our last Blending executed for daring to survive their peers. I hate what I’m going to have to do, but at the moment there’s simply no other choice. I intend to do a good deal of deep thinking, and while I’m engaged with that, there’s something
you
must do.”

“Anything, sir, anything at all!” Ruhl exclaimed without hesitation, understanding the matter of responsibility without being told. Dolf was in the process of paying for that fiasco with his life, but ultimate responsibility for the matter rested with Ruhl. Zolind felt tempted to mete out to Ruhl the same fate Ruhl had meted out to Dolf, but at the moment the man was needed.

“I have a conviction about this whole thing that as yet has no basis in detailed fact,” Zolind said slowly. “In some way I’ve become certain that those people are the ones responsible for causing our near utter defeat today, and I’m ordering you to find the means of proving it. You have no more than a matter of days, as I’ll want the answer before those five are Seated on the Fivefold Throne—if they survive to be Seated.”

“If the proof is anywhere in the world, I’ll find it,” Ruhl said as though taking a blood oath. “And once I do, what will become of those five? If they’ve won the competitions in the meanwhile…”

“If they’ve won the competitions but I have proof of their duplicity, my course of action will be simple and easy,” Zolind replied with a faint smile. “I’ll simply disqualify them by having them executed, and announce that the retiring Five will remain on the Throne until next year, when the competitions will be held again. But in order to do that I need proof, so begin your investigations this instant.”

“Yes, sir, this instant,” Ruhl acknowledged, then the man hurried off to do whatever it was that he’d decided on. He’d probably realized that his life depended on finding what Zolind wanted, but that incentive might not be enough if the man was an incompetent. Others would be sent out to search, others like Anglard Nobin, who never cared about who he caught, just so long as that person was guilty.

And, of course, Zolind hadn’t mentioned the best option he had about what to do with an unwanted winning Blending. Those robes all the contestants wore… No one was really able to see faces under the hoods, so it wasn’t possible for the rabble to tell one group of five people from another. Their last remaining Blending would do its best to win for them, and then, when they did, they would be replaced by five other people, ones who could be trusted to do as they were told. And ones who weren’t terribly strong, or practiced as a Blending. Those with strength too often reached the point of deciding to use it, usually against those who knew the proper way of running an empire, as they did not…

The five people comprising the last Blending had disappeared from sight, but Zolind continued to stare after them. Ollon Kapmar had been more than simply Zolind’s good friend, and Zolind refused to rest until his murderer had paid for what he’d done. Which would hopefully be soon now, but not too soon to suit
him
…

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

If Vallant thought it had been a madhouse before in the gathering area, now it was complete chaos as well as insanity. People danced around screaming out their laughter, and were still being drowned out by the sounds from the crowd outside. It wasn’t possible to hear even shouted conversation, at least until the outer doors were closed. Then it became clear that the servants and various observers weren’t the only ones touched by jubilation.

“Man, we done it!” Holter suddenly came close to shout as he danced. “We done it, an’ it’s you we got to thank for makin’ it happen! On’y one a them noble groups left, an’ four a us! This time one a us’ll do it, damned if we don’t!”

Vallant felt like laughing at the sight of Holter dancing in his robe, but that wasn’t something you did to a friend. Besides, he was feeling too good himself to want to put
anyone
down, even if the large gathering area was beginning to seem smaller and smaller. He was
not
going to let his problem control him, not after they’d been so successful.

“Well, here comes Eltrina Razas,” Jovvi said, taking Vallant’s attention as well as that of everyone else in their group. “She’s wavering between a feeling of success and a feeling of failure, finding it hard to decide which to go with. I wonder why that is.”

“Maybe her happy feelings are based on the fact that her new superior seems to have disappeared,” Tamrissa commented. “I looked for him when we first came back in, wanting to see his expression when we didn’t immediately report for that ‘punishment,’ but I couldn’t locate him.”

“That’s because he isn’t anywhere within my range,” Jovvi said, obviously searching with more than just eyes. “His absence doesn’t look good for his future health, and for the sake of our own we’d better remember that he never came to speak to us. If they even bother to ask.”

The last of Jovvi’s words were little more than a murmur, as Eltrina Razas had finally reached them. The woman looked more than a little harried, but apparently wasn’t so distracted that she failed to give Vallant the sort of appraising look she usually did. Vallant hated that look, even though it had helped to make him understand why most women hated the same sort of thing from a man. The appraisal made him feel like less than a human being, more like a possession with no say over who did the possessing…

“Has any of you seen Lord Simin?” Eltrina said at once, cutting short her usual inspection time. “He was here just a little while ago, and now I can’t find him.”

“Who’s Lord Simin?” Tamrissa asked blandly, giving Eltrina a different sort of inspection. “Someone else who’s come to congratulate us on our victory?”