It took Tif and the other four candidates only a few minutes to follow the administrator’s shouted commands, forming a loose circle around him just like the previous group. Once it was finished to his satisfaction, the administrator strode away, his long sleeves swishing at his sides.
Tif’s attention flicked to each of the people she was up against. The final two she didn’t know: one a human boy, and the other a female keshe who was the oldest candidate Tif had seen at recruitment--maybe in her thirties. Those two were on her right and left, respectively, each about ten paces away, while the tall keshe, Opa, and the sleepy keshe boy, Rof, were further, both on the far side of the circle.
“We go for whichever one the others don’t,” Tif said to Pep. Her entire body was tensed, ready to run either direction.
“Begin!” the administrator shouted.
The word wasn’t even fully formed in the air when everyone started moving: Rof backpedaled away from the others while Opa surprised Tif by sprinting toward the human boy instead of just attacking him from a distance.
Tif didn’t waste any time, dashing to the right, toward the mature keshe. Nothing hit her as she ran, but Tif knew that could change at any moment. Her target was loosing some shots in Opa and the human boy’s direction, and the longer she did the better. Since none of Tif’s experiments with Blood ris had worked, she was going to stick with what she knew did and the same she had seen Jer use: direct touch.
The mature keshe looked at her when she was maybe a dozen feet away, lifting one leg and twisting her hips, and Tif angled her run in a quick V, dodging the sidekick that followed.
Before the keshe could strike again, Tif tackled her--feeling a momentary flash of relief that she hadn’t hit a shroud--knocking them both to the ground. Tif had been aiming to grab her opponent’s forearms, since the rest of her skin was covered in clothing, but she ended up getting handfuls of blouse and pant fabric instead.
They scrambled in the rocky dirt, Tif trying to grab the keshe’s flailing arms while the keshe tried to get enough room to use ris in a punch or strike. Tif felt a shot of icy air blow by her ear though she couldn’t see the power behind it. Taking advantage of the miss, Tif knocked her head into the keshe’s retracting fist. She felt a brief moment of connection between them, the skin of her temple tingling at the touch. The keshe hissed, pulling her arm back faster, and this time Tif was able to catch it because she knew where it was going to be. The rush of such a full contact poured into her, but it was cold, completely different than what Tif had experienced in the alley. The keshe howled now, trying to punch and kick, but Tif was too close to kick and seeing another fist coming, Tif grabbed it, too, managing to roll on top of her opponent.
Despite her compromised position, the keshe didn’t stop trying to pull her arms and body away from Tif with surprising strength. Tif had expected her opponent to weaken by now, but that didn’t seem to be happening at all. Instead, cool ice was continuing to push its way across Tif’s skin. The flow was energizing, making her feel more than alert, but also disconcerting in how different it was from her previous experience. Not to mention if they stayed this way much longer, they’d both be easy targets for the others.
She knew she shouldn’t, but Tif looked away from her thrashing opponent and down at her hands to try and see what might be going wrong and was shocked to discover that Gold tattoos were creeping around the edges of her fingers. As she watched, the geometrics shapes slowly grew on her skin like they were being drawn by the unseen hand of an invisible Aspect, interweaving between the spaces of her Blood ris.
Tif was so distracted by what she was seeing, the keshe managed to twist an arm out of her grasp and punch her in the face. Without the protection of a shroud, Tif took the blow full on the chin and fell to the side in pain.
Her Blood ris flared to heal her, but the sound of dirt crunching close by made Tif look up. She had only a second to register tall Opa standing over her and then a kick slammed into her side. Tif’s grip on the mature keshe was ripped away, and she skidded on the ground for quite some time before finally stopping.
Tif blinked, trying to process things through the lessening ache of her face and the now thrumming agony of her side. Had she broken ribs? She grunted, getting up on her elbow, as her skin heated, more and more of her Blood ris vanishing from sight. She was a few body lengths away from where Opa towered over the mature keshe. There was no way a regular kick had sent her so far--Opa must be enhancing her close range strikes with ris. It was a technique Tif hadn’t seen before, but obviously an effective one.
She groaned, standing. Her ribs still hurt but only half as much as a moment before and her face felt fine.
“My turn,” Tif said, facing Opa and raising her fists. She was in pain but also excited. This type of ris she knew how to use.
Tif was already imagining the coolness she could feel on her hands springing forward with the punch she was a split second away from throwing when she caught sight of Rof in the distance. He had two fingers pointed at her, his arm straight as an arrow.
Tif’s head snapped back from the sudden, searing force that struck her forehead and then everything was inky nothing.
She drifted in the unexpected weightlessness, finding she didn’t care when she had arrived or how long she might stay. Instead, she let it carry her wherever it chose, and it chose sudden brightness and a loud ringing.
Pale blue dominated her vision, the expanse filled with a multitude of hazy white blotches that slowly moved across what Tif came to realize was the sky. She was on her back, and the ringing was in her ears. Over the piercing sound, she heard shouts to the side, so she rolled her head in that direction and felt a surge of dizzy nausea.
Tif squinted her eyes against the pain and noise. Everything was oddly sideways now, the sky on her left and the ground on her right, but she still caught sight of a tall keshe girl running toward a keshe boy. The memory of who they were leapt without warning into her mind, along with what she should be doing, and Tif tried to stand. Her body didn’t cooperate though, her limbs feeling as far away as the mountaintop. The ringing also intensified, black nipping at the corners of her vision, threatening to drown her again, and she had no choice but to give up the attempt.
As impossible as it seemed, judging from Opa and Rof’s positions, almost no time had passed since she had fallen. Her Blood ris would heal her--Tif could already feel her lower back warming and the ringing of her head gradually beginning to quiet.
They were both good fighters, and if they lasted long enough, Tif would have time to rejoin. She could still salvage the challenge.
Before Opa was within a dozen feet of the keshe boy, Tif saw him kneel on the ground. Opa skidded to a halt in front of Rof and started to yell at him, but instead of getting up, he put his forehead on the ground in a show of complete submission.
A slow clap started among the crowds, not nearly the same as it had been for Jer’s win. Opa cursed again and then left, moving out of Tif’s view.
Tif couldn’t believe it. Her chance of getting back in the fight was yanked away from her because the keshe boy that had knocked her out decided to surrender. Why would he do that? And if he was going to give up anyway, why strike her down first?
“Let me assist,” a man’s voice said surprisingly close.
Tif turned her head--this time only feeling a slight twinge for her trouble--and saw a human man with a close cut gray beard and yellow servant robes leaning over her.
“I think I can on my own now,” Tif said. The ringing had faded to almost nothing and when she told her body what to do this time it actually listened.
“If you wish,” he said, backing away and not moving to help her even when she stumbled.
Once Tif was upright and stable, he motioned with one arm.
“After me, please.”
Tif followed him to the area where candidates who hadn’t been called yet waited, but she stopped when he went beyond that.
“Where are you going?”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “To the candidates’ pavilion so you may rest and be examined. There is also food to eat, and you can spend the night there should you wish.”
“That sounds nice, but I’m not leaving until I see this last group match.” Tif was more than a little frustrated by how the last challenge had been scooped out from under her just as she was getting the hang of things. Watching Sur-Rak’s match would be a chance to learn more and maybe even fun if the pompous keshe happened to get knocked on her rump.
The servant's flinty eyes looked her up and down, as if assessing whether or not she might collapse in the next moment.
“I’m fine,” Tif said. When he didn’t seem convinced, she knocked herself on the head with her fist. She truly felt okay now thanks to her Blood ris, which was impressive considering how not fine she had been only a short time ago.
“Very well,” he said, giving her a slight nod. “Candidate.” He whisked off, moving to help another yellow robed servant who was passing by with the human Opa had first fought. The poor boy was barely managing to stay upright, leaning heavily on the servant, and as soon as the gray-bearded man offered an arm on the other side, the boy lost what little control he had, collapsing between them as they carted him away.
No sooner was the trio gone, then Jer swept up beside her.
“It’s good to see you unharmed,” he commented, tossing what looked like a caramel cube into his mouth. “Not that I’d expect anything less from a Blood warrior.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “You seem to have paid for it though.”
Tif looked in the direction he was indicating and saw that she no longer had any Blood ris on her arms. She was about to search for the rest but, remembering what she had learned, instead felt for warmth along her skin. Tif thought there might still be some below her ribcage, but if so it wasn’t much. Opa and Rof’s hits must have caused a lot of damage.
“I’m just grateful I had enough,” she said with a shrug, “and it will recharge.” The last challenge wasn’t until tomorrow anyway, and thank goodness for that. If the division leaders judged her just on today, Tif doubted she had much of a shot.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “Shall we retire to my tent now? I purchased some caramels, which should pair nicely with the raspberry tea I have from the Life territories.”
“You must be joking,” she said to him. “You couldn’t drag me away from watching this.”
“Really?” he said, looking at her with the same surprised expression she was giving him. “It’s a foregone conclusion.”
“That rich human, Tad?” Tif said, hopefully. “He seemed tough.”
The Archon’s son shook his head. “Sur-Rak. She could have gotten in years ago but her mother manages her life and does everything by the position and duration of the Aspects movements in Lercel. This year had the best portents tied to it.”
Tif hadn’t realized so much could be learned from watching the Aspects, but there was a lot she didn’t know. Maybe it would be part of her training when she became a knight.
“Is that why you came back now?” Tif asked him. “To ruin her chances?”
Jer smiled but not at her. He turned to look in the direction of Sur-Rak who stood across the field, waiting to be called in the final group.
“I have my reasons.”
The administrator started calling out people’s names, but Tif was distracted by the sight of the mature keshe she had faced in the second challenge circling the field. She was limping, which Opa must have done to her after knocking Tif away. Tif wasn’t sure then why the keshe would be stomping toward her with such an angry look on her face, but she certainly was--there was no mistaking her trajectory or the way her eyes were locked onto Tif. A yellow robed servant hung at the keshe’s side trying to get her to move on a different path--perhaps to the candidate’s pavilion the gray-bearded man had mentioned--but the mature keshe was not to be dissuaded.
She came to halt directly in front of Tif, breathing hard with the exertion of her trek and completely blocking the view of the field. Strangely, Tif felt the barest twinge in the same leg that the keshe was having trouble walking on.
“Give it back.”
“Um, what?” Tif said, trying to look around the keshe without being rude. The servant continued to hover nearby, which only made it harder to see. The administrator could call the start at any moment, and if the past two matches were any indication it could be over in no time.
“My Gold ris,” the keshe wheezed. “You stole it.”
“Ede,” Jer said, “you know the challenges count as duels. Nothing that happens in one can be subject to recrimination.”
“Stay out of this, Jer. It’s not your concern.”
Tif noticed Jer give the mature keshe a measured look--still amused but also a touch surprised.
“I remember you being more respectful last time we spoke.”
“You lost my respect when you abandoned Lercel.”
“Abandon is such a strong wo--”
“Is she even listening?”
Tif had been but only with half an ear, having just heard the administrator give the call to start. There was a wedge of space between Ede’s elbow and the servant that let Tif see the quiet keshe she had spoken to. The keshe did a little hop in the air, spinning her whole body like a top--arms held tight to her chest and legs together. Tif wasn’t sure if that counted as an attack or not until the male keshe across from the quiet keshe was picked up by the Gold ris Tif couldn’t see. He twisted with such force he ended up landing on his shoulder, legs splayed up in the air, his body still revolving on the dirt. And when he finally slowed to a stop, he didn’t get up.
“Yes!” Tif said, excited for the soft-spoken keshe, who’s name she really should have asked. Even though Tif was very appreciative of her Blood ris, she couldn’t wait to get a seal of Gold and do things like that.
Ede moved, cutting off Tif’s view. “Don’t ignore me.”
Desperate not to miss anything, Tif looked up at the mature keshe. “I don’t have your ris. I wish I still did, but I don’t.”
“You do,” Ede snapped in irritation, pointing to Tif’s hand. “Right there.”
Hoping that proving her wrong would make her leave, Tif turned her hand over and was shocked to discover that around Pep’s eyes and mouth were Gold tattoos, the shimmering geometric shapes extending as far as the underside of Tif’s wrist. Reflexively, she checked her other hand. Her right palm had some, too, but not near as much as her left, which Tif remembered now had been the one she had held on with longer.
She pulled it close to her face, angling her body slightly away from the nearby people.
“Pep,” she whispered. “You kept it?” Tif had assumed that the transfer was temporary, like the energy she received when touching people, but that was obviously not the case with ris. Tif looked back up at the angry keshe.
“I’m so sorry, and we’ll definitely get this sorted. Before that though, could you…? Would you please…?”
“What?” the keshe finally said when she didn’t continue.
“Move? I’m trying to watch.”
Jer chuckled, and the mature keshe bristled.
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“Sorry, sorry,” Tif said, making placating motions with her hands but then realized that such a gesture might make Ede even angrier. “I promise we can take care of it after the match.”
“Fine,” the mature keshe growled, mercifully moving out of Tif’s way, the servant following. Ede didn’t go far though, standing so close to Tif they almost touched. She obviously wasn’t going to let Tif out of her sight until this was over.
Tif barely noticed though, having regained a full view of the field. As she had feared, much had happened. Two keshe were already on the ground: the one she had seen flipped around and a female keshe she didn’t know. Tad was still standing and the quiet keshe, too, both of which made her happy. Sur-Rak was up of course, and the last was a wide keshe boy who was moving so slowly it was almost comical. Before Tif could puzzle him out, her eyes caught on bald Tad bringing his two hands across in a slashing motion, much like the human girl in the first group had done. Tif was convinced they were using blades of Life ris--something else she wished she could see! However, unlike when that girl and Jer had fought, there was no one close enough for Tad to strike.
“What is he--?” Tif started to ask, but then she saw the quiet keshe a good ten paces distant from him bending and twisting, as if out of the path of his distant slashes.
“It’s the advantage of having both Gold and Life ris,” Jer said. “One of the more deadly combinations to be true.”
A sword that could project Gold ris? Tif’s mind spun with the possibilities: it would create all new forms and avenues of attack, not to mention greater range. But most frightening was the cutting edge the projectiles would possess.
“And you don’t think he’ll win?”
“Not against Sur,” Jer said, sounding not the least bit worried. “Look.”
Tif turned and saw that Sur-Rak was watching the fight between Tad and the quiet keshe closely. However, as she did, she would occasionally do an odd series of movements with both hands ending in a sudden stop. The second one of these Tif saw didn’t look like the first, and the third looked different than both before. Also, checking Tad and the quiet keshe who continued to strike and dodge around each other, Tif didn’t see any evidence that they were being attacked by Sur-Rak.
It wasn’t until the slow moving keshe boy stepped into Tif’s periphery, and Tif saw the air around him shimmer a few moments after each of these little forms of Sur-Rak’s that she made any sort of sense of what she was seeing.
“...Sur-Rak’s attacking that big keshe,” Tif said to Jer. “But she’s not even looking at him. Gold ris can do that?”
“Only Sur can,” Jer said. “She made up the form herself after researching Dex-Lin-Saa’s angled shot and Kyr-Pul-Rem’s boomerang technique for near a decade. Schools have tried to copy it ever since Sur unveiled it in a duel with me, actually, but they haven’t managed to get it right yet. I can tell you it is quite annoying to face.”
Tif remembered Sur-Rak saying that she had beaten Jer in the past and could see how with ris shots that found their target.
“Is that why you went traveling?” Tif asked him. “To find a better technique?”
“I went traveling to see how other cultures lived, in the hopes of improving Lercel.”
The mature keshe snorted to Tif’s left.
He ignored Ede, turning to smile at Tif. “What I learned about fighting along the way was a happy accident.”
Tif looked back at the field. All four were still standing, already making this match much longer than the previous two.
“Does her form also slow you?” Tif asked, watching the wide keshe continue his ridiculously sluggish advance. As far as she had seen, he hadn’t even thrown an attack yet.
“No…,” Jer said as if he was looking for the answer to that question, too. “He must be using a meditative technique that lets him move, similar to my grandfather. It would explain how he still has a shroud after weathering so many of her attacks. They’re not weak, I assure you...ah, that’s it.”
“What?” Tif said, searching the fighters to see what she had missed but most everything seemed the same as before. The only difference was that the keshe boy on the ground had started to get up but an offhand slash from Tad had put him right back down.
Jer leaned closer to her, his braided hair brushing her shoulder. It was soft, and he smelled of leather and burned wood. He pointed his arm so it lined up with her vision, right at Tad.
“There.”
In between a spinning slash attack, the bald boy let go of his invisible sword with one hand to quickly touch his chest and then point the thumb of that hand toward the slow moving keshe. If Tif had blinked she would have missed it, because only a moment later Tad’s hands were together, and he was onto his next slice like the break in his sword form had never happened.
Something about the look of it tickled Tif’s memory. “That’s almost like what you did in the first match.”
“Good eye,” Jer said, pulling back enough to look down at her with a wide smile. “Life and Death techniques share a number of traits.”
Tif frowned. Tad was obviously using Life, so did that mean…?
“You really are a traitor,” Ede hissed on Tif’s left. It had been so long since the mature keshe had spoken Tif had almost forgotten she was there.
“It is not illegal to possess ris from Death,” Jer calmly replied. Both keshe were tall enough they could easily speak over Tif’s head.
“Nor is it illegal to refuse to pay the birth price of a new son or daughter but it is not something any honorable citizen of Lercel, especially a noble, should ever do.”
Tif wasn’t following what they were saying, and a slim cry of pain made her look back to the field. The quiet keshe was down, and Tif’s heart clenched for her. She was moving, so hopefully not seriously hurt, but she also didn’t try to rise.
“You did well,” Tif said to her. Surely the division leaders would look on the quiet keshe with favor considering how long she had lasted and against an opponent with much more ris than her.
Tad turned toward the other two, and so did Tif. As if sensing that his time was now, the slow moving keshe put on a burst of speed, seeming all the faster for how he had been moving previously. As he ran toward Sur-Rak, he pushed forward with his hands in a double-palm strike.
Sur-Rak looked almost lazily to the side, not adjusting in the slightest to the thick keshe barreling toward her. Tif held her breath; this could be it. The air in front of Sur-Rak rippled in a section larger and taller than the keshe, but instead of stopping or breaking the shroud, the ripple slid around Sur-Rak and then whipped back to the front where the original distortion had started.
Tif wasn’t entirely sure what she had just witnessed, but she looked at the wide keshe in time to see him hit what seemed to be a wall of ris that shattered his shroud with a loud crack and sent him flying backward. Needless to say, he didn’t rise.
And just like that, there were only two left. Jer and Ede were still arguing about something, so Tif slapped at their covered stomachs without taking her eyes off the field.
“Look, look!” she said.
The sight of the human noble stalking toward Sur-Rak must have been as riveting to them as it was to Tif because they quieted. Tad’s arms were up, and Tif thought she spotted a distortion of ris beside his face. For Sur-Rak’s part, she regally watched his approach, unmoving in her stance. In fact, Tif hadn’t seen her take so much as a step since the whole thing began.
When they were maybe a dozen paces apart, Sur-Rak did one of her odd forms, and Tad immediately froze. He was so still that Tif couldn’t figure out what he was doing. Waiting until the last moment to dodge? But could he dodge one of Sur-Rak’s strange attacks?
Tad burst into motion, bringing his sword down in a straight overhand strike. Tif thought it was an attack at first but then she saw the clothing of his shoulders flutter on both sides where previously there had been no breeze.
“Did he just--?”
“Cut a Gold shot in half? He did.” Jer said, sounding more than a little impressed. “It seems Tad-Soo has improved in my absence.”
“Foregone conclusion, eh?” Tif said, elbowing him excitedly in the side. If she had any flats left, she’d be tempted to bet.
The shot deflected, Tad returned to his prowling gait which ate up the space between him and Sur-Rak while keeping him ever at the ready.
“But why isn’t he attacking?” Jer wondered aloud.
“Probably because he doesn’t want Sur-Rak to reflect his slashes with her shroud like she did against the big keshe.”
“She did what?”
“Mmhmm,” Tif said. “You should have seen it.”
Only five paces apart now, Sur-Rak’s hands moved almost faster than Tif could follow. She counted three, no five, maybe seven strikes within the flurry of tight forms, the last five of which all strangely all seemed the same. Tad lunged forward, as if stabbing directly toward Sur-Rak though more than ten feet separated them.
A single, tiny shimmer appeared in front of Sur-Rak. Tif expected it to whip around like last time, but it didn’t. It held there, and so did Tad, as if he was continuing to pour Gold ris into the long range sword thrust. Sur-Rak’s shroud shattered in a loud crack across the field, but she didn’t stumble.
Tad did though as ris began pounding into him: the first three struck his shroud with such force that he rocked side-to-side within his barrier, each shot coming from a different direction judging from how he moved. The fourth broke his shroud and the next pounded into his neck by the shoulder. Tif thought he’d be immediately knocked out by the blow, which did take him to one knee, but Tif saw that there was a new distortion in the air, just an inch or two above his body. It was this point she saw ripple over and over again as more hits struck in quick succession until another crack sounded, though smaller and deeper than Tif was used to. Two more shots struck his body finally, sending him fully to the ground.
Tif was in shock in more ways than one, but mostly she was frustrated to see him lose. He had been so close to winning, managing to strike so perfectly that Sur-Rak couldn’t redirect it, but even with that, he was on his back just as surely as she had been not that long ago.
Tad groggily lifted his bald head off of the ground, giving Tif hope, but Sur-Rak moved for the first time Tif had seen in the match to stand over him. She did a quick form, but to Tif’s eyes she stopped it part way, one hand held as if ready to finish the strike while with the other she wagged her finger back and forth at the human noble like she was scolding a child.
He stared at her for a moment, his head half raised, but then he dropped it back to the dirt.
The crowds on both sides of the field erupted in cheers and shouts.
“Now?” Tif heard Ede say over the noise though she wished she hadn’t.
She looked at the mature keshe, who seemed not to have lost a bit of her anger, and then down at the Gold ris on her palms. All these years, Tif had been working toward having it and now here it was. It felt so good to see the tattoos on her skin--a dream finally made real.
“You promised,” the kehse grated, but it was a small part of Tif that was listening.
It was a dream, but would it help her now? In the midst of the second challenge, Tif had believed she could attack with it, but that would only work if she had enough ris to grant her the first Gold seal. And if she had that seal, she should feel the fist sized shape along her spine. She quested out with her senses, looking for coolness instead of heat. She felt it on her palms, of course, but her back…
It wasn’t there.
Which meant that keeping it wouldn’t help her in the third challenge. However, giving it back might raise the division leader’s estimation of her. And with how she had performed in the first two challenges, she needed every inch of approval she could get.
Tif breathed, letting the dream go--for now.
“Sure,” she said, looking directly at the keshe. “We can.”
“Get an Aspect,” Ede snapped to the servant who still stood beside her, plainly not wanting to give Tif time to change her mind. The younger man bowed his head and moved in the direction of one of the large, metal creatures who lingered on the edges of the field.
“You don’t have to do this,” Jer said to Tif, seeming unconcerned by the way the other keshe hissed at him.
“It’s fine,” Tif said, looking between them both. “It’s the right choice.” In addition to being strategic, when Tif finally did get Gold ris she wanted it to feel…momentous, like she always imagined winning the lotto would be. What’s more, she had already been beyond fortunate to receive what she had from Torgath and knew from playing das that luck could only stretch so far before going sour. No reason to push hers before the third challenge.
The servant and an Aspect returned not long after.
Ede didn’t waste any time, pointing at Tif. “She wishes to give me her Gold ris.”
The giant, golden keshe turned to look down on Tif. Aspects had carvings for eyes but no pupils to focus on her. They also didn’t blink, making the creature’s blank gaze all the more surreal. Tif stared back at it, wondering how the world looked through metal eyes.
“It’s true,” she told the Aspect.
Without speaking, it reached out, laying an oversized hand on her right shoulder.
Tif had never been touched by an Aspect before, and was shocked by not only the coolness of it its hard skin through her shirt but also the weight of it, her knees bending under the pressure. It didn’t seem like the Aspect was pushing down, but instead that its hand was so heavy that even lightly resting on her it threatened to push her into the ground.
There was a sudden pulling on the skin of her left wrist and right palm, and she forgot all about the Aspect’s hand weighing on her. Tif turned her hands over and saw that her newfound Gold ris was slowly vanishing, but as it went it felt like her flesh was being yanked up in tiny, repetitive tugs. The experience was similar to when she had given her Blood ris to her father and far from pleasant, but she bore it, knowing it would be over soon enough. The sensation progressed down to the palm of her left hand and the fingers of her right. Tif clenched her jaw--it was actually getting more painful as it went. The way her hands felt, the skin should have been raw, but both looked perfectly fine, the shiny geometric tattoos continuing to disappear in the reverse order she had gained them. Blessedly, the ripping sensation stopped on her right hand, and a few more pulls later on the tips of her fingers, it was over on her left, too.
The Aspect removed its hand and the change made Tif stagger, but much smaller hands caught her. Tif looked up, expecting to see that it was Jer who had helped her, but to her surprise it was Ede.
“Thank you,” Tif said to her, smiling.
The keshe grunted, getting Tif upright and then quickly letting go of where she had held onto Tif through her clothes--surely to avoid touching Tif’s skin and losing what she had just regained.
“Yes, well,” Ede said once there was some distance between them, “it was honorable of you to return my property.”
Tif could hear the gratitude behind the words, which warmed her more than Blood ris and was a nice balm after a day that hadn’t gone how she had hoped.
“Good luck in the final challenge.”
The small measure of softness that Tif had detected in Ede was suddenly gone, and the keshe limped off stiff-backed.
Tif looked down at Pep, who seemed rather sad to be Gold-less. “What did I say?”
“Here she comes,” Jer said.
That statement struck Tif as obviously wrong with Ede continuing her jerking gait away from them, but when Tif turned to the Archon’s son, she saw he was referring to someone else entirely. For a wonder, Sur-Rak was heading toward them, the quiet keshe trailing behind.
Sur-Rak was also doing something Tif hadn’t seen from her before--smiling. She was probably planning to gloat to them about her win, one step closer to becoming a knight and thus the Archon while Tif lagged behind. Tif squared her shoulders. Whatever the third challenge was tomorrow, she would use it to make up the lost distance between them.
Only a few paces away now, Tif could see that even Sur-Rak’s cheeks were flushed from the win, and Tif found herself envying her for it. Tif hadn’t been able to beat a single opponent in either challenge, let alone one of Tad’s skill. Was she fooling herself to think that she could?
“Well fought,” Tif said before anyone else had a chance. It was true, and Tif wasn’t going to let herself begrudge the preening keshe for it.
“That’s not what I came to speak with you about,” Sur-Rak said as she came to a stop. “But thank you.”
Sur-Rak was being nicer than Tif expected, and she had something to talk with her about? More accusations?
“Then to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Jer said.
“I’m not here for you,” Sur-Rak replied and then waved him away. “Why don’t you take your rest in that ridiculous tent you brought with you.” Jer didn’t leave, but Sur-Rak turned away from him as if he had, focusing on Tif.
The keshe stared at her a moment, her violet eyes luminous, and Tif braced herself for whatever jabs Sur-Rak had prepared.
“It was...wrong to accuse you of stealing from me.”
Tif certainly hadn’t expected that but she would gladly take it. “Thank you,” she said, considering the keshe. Sur-Rak didn’t seem the type to admit wrongdoing just because she was in a good mood. “What changed your mind?”
Sur-Rak fingered one of her long-lobed ears, which Tif noticed had a beautiful black and yellow tiger’s eye in it.
“While meditating, I did a mental walkthrough of my house from before I left. Nothing was missing.”
Tif was impressed that she had a memory so precise it could change her stance on Tif’s guilt so thoroughly. Was there anything Sur-Rak wasn’t good at?
“However,” the keshe continued. “I cannot imagine you gained so much ris so quickly, particularly of Blood, in a manner that is legitimate. At the least, there is an illegal Blood altar in Lercel which you used, likely with stolen property from other homes in the highs, and at the worst, you helped in its creation.”
“That is quite the apology, cousin,” Jer said.
“Why are you still here?” Sur-Rak said with a sidelong growl at him.
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this,” he said, grinning. “It’s more entertaining than your match.”
“I told you,” Tif said, drawing both of their gazes back to her, “my ris is not new, it was just expended when you met me. I used it up training.” Tif thought that sounded likely enough, and she certainly wished she’d been able to do so before the challenges.
Sur-Rak smirked at her. “If you’ve truly worn your Blood ris longer than a single turn of the sun, then your performance today is even more embarrassing.”
Tif felt her face redden at the barb, and Sur-Rak stepped closer.
“When I am a knight of the Inner Division I will find this Blood altar and your connection to it. That I can promise you.”
Tif noticed that Sur-Rak didn’t say anything about alerting the knights to her suspicions now, and looking at the keshe’s calculating gaze it was easy to figure out why. Locating and ending an illegal sect of Aspects in the city would undoubtedly come with great praise and honors, praise that would surely make the path to becoming the Archon all the faster. Tif had thought the status of knighthood would be enough to protect her and her parents from Vak-Lav, but Sur-Rak’s plan would be even better if Tif was the one to do it. She could lead the knights to the underground hideout she had been to, and if she was with them during the raid, she could protect Awt. Tif didn’t think Vak-Lav had any foreign Aspects down there, but from the little she had seen, the underground leader was clearly involved in things much worse than most believed.
“You’re not in any division yet, Sur,” Tif countered, not wanting to give away her thinking. “There’s still the final challenge.”
Sur-Rak laughed, sending her lobes and long hair swinging as she shook her head.
“You still remain incredibly ill-informed. I’m not sure why I’m even surprised anymore.”
Tif opened her mouth to argue, but Sur-Rak talked over her, turning to Jer.
“Explain it to her if you want. I’ve answered enough of her questions to last a lifetime.” She swept away after that, the quiet keshe following in her wake having spoken not a word. Though, as the friend whose name Tif didn’t know passed near, Tif swore she felt a brief sting in her shoulder.
Unsure what that meant and having much larger concerns, Tif turned to the Archon’s son. “What’s she talking about? The third challenge is tomorrow, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Jer said, but Tif didn’t like the careful tone he was using. “Not in the way you seem to think though. The division leaders have already decided who they will make offers to.” He smiled in an apologetic way. “It’s over.”