Convergence Page 8

  He let the words break off as Hat just strode toward the curtained doorway, ignoring Lorand as if he weren’t there. He’d heard what had been said to him, Lorand knew he had, but he’d obviously decided not to do even so little as exchange good wishes. Lorand tried to pity his friend, but annoyance and disgust were rising too sharply to allow much room for the kinder emotion.

  “It often goes like that,” Lorand heard once Hat had disappeared through the curtain. It was the man behind the table speaking, so Lorand turned back and handed over his set of papers as the man continued, “The ones with the smallest chance are often the ones who want it the most, and by the time they get here they can’t see anyone or anything but those wants and wishes. He has every ounce of himself invested in what he’s about to face, so don’t think too unkindly of him.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting something with every fiber of your being,” Lorand answered slowly with a faint frown. “I feel the same way myself, but I happen to look at it differently. I decided a long time ago that if you can’t get what you want without stepping all over other people, you aren’t a winner, you’re a loser. A real winner doesn’t have to sacrifice all sense of decency.”

  “There aren’t many people in this world who would agree with that,” the man returned with a faint smile. “They would point out that someone with your strength of talent can afford to be generous, since most will never be able to match you. But that’s a philosophical discussion to be engaged in at another time. Your papers are all in order, so please go through the doorway on your extreme right.”

  Lorand nodded his thanks, but was suddenly aware of an uneasy feeling that wasn’t for himself. Hat had been sent to the left and the man behind the table seemed to know Master Lugal’s opinion of Hat’s chances. Were they going to put Hat through something that he couldn’t possibly hope to handle? Maybe if he followed after he could do something to protect Hat…

  “It’s no longer possible for anyone to help your friend,” the man said with faint annoyance as Lorand stared at the doorway to the left. “He’ll be facing the same thing you will, the same thing all hopefuls face when they come here. Go and take your own test, and let the Fates see to the both of you.”

  Lorand took a deep breath and nodded, thanked the man, then walked to the doorway to the right. There was nothing left he could do for Hat, and he did have his own test ahead of him. But somehow the brightness of the curtain over the doorway had lost some of its warmth and welcome.

  Stepping through the curtain brought Lorand into a hall, one that was well-lit by wall lamps. Three people sat in an alcove to the left, two men and a woman, and all three rose to their feet while one of the men nodded expressionlessly.

  “Follow me,” was all the man said before he headed up the hallway, the other man and woman coming along behind Lorand. They made a small parade to the end of the hall and around a gentle curve, until they reached a closed doorway made of the same resin as the rest of the building.

  “Leave your case out here and go inside, then sit on the stool,” the man who had been in the lead said, gesturing to the closed door. “You’ll be given further directions in just a few minutes.”

  Lorand felt an odd tingle of … something in the air, but he put his case down and did as he’d been told. The resin door swung smoothly and quietly inward to show him a round, high room that was empty of all furniture, except for the stool which stood beside the wall directly opposite the door. Lorand headed for the stool and didn’t notice that the door had swung shut again until he turned to sit on the stool. For some reason that bothered him and he half rose to go over and open it again, but instead he just sank back down onto the stool. The lamplight coming through the large squares of transparent resin which circled the room at several points showed there was nothing on the inside of the door to open it with. It fit so perfectly in the space in which it was hung, the door seams were almost invisible.

  “That’s right, you can’t get out again unless we let you out,” Lorand heard, but from somewhere above. He looked up to see that a large square panel high in the wall had been opened, and the man he’d followed looked out of it. And now that he’d noticed the one square, he could see the others, smaller and still closed, which completely circled the room well above his head.

  “This is the first of your tests, but it can also turn out to be the last,” the man continued, sounding as if he spoke a prepared speech. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you want to pass, you have to pass if you intend to continue living. Failure in this test means death, so you’d better keep that in mind during the next few minutes. Good luck or goodbye.”

  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 h
ad 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…?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jovvi 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 Jovvi’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 e
ntrance 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,” Jovvi 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 Jovvi 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.”

  Jovvi felt thoroughly annoyed, but her small sigh of defeat and weak tremulous smile told the man that she’d realized she had no choice. She had to register for that foolish test first, and only then would she be free to find her perfect house. Well, if she had to she had to, and she’d done harder things in her life. Besides, the people registering her might know more about the sort of neighborhood she wanted than a coach guard would…

  Feeling considerably brightened by that thought, Jovvi followed the two men with her trunk to the opening in the wall, where the guardsmen who stood the post were already studying her. In point of fact they’d had their eyes on her since she’d left the coach, and their attitudes were perfectly plain. She’d seen the same on every man who had come to the residence and then had discovered her, which hopefully meant that the residences there in Gan Garee weren’t stuffed full of courtesans of her caliber. When the gentlemen of this city found out she’d taken up residence here, she would hopefully have more gold than she could easily count.