“That doesn’t make any sense,” Tif said, and she certainly didn’t want it to. If they had already made up their mind, she wouldn’t bet a single flat on her chances of making the cut. Tif felt decently about the first challenge, but the second? She hadn’t done anything to stand out, at least not in a good way. The third was her chance to turn things around. “Why bother having two days of challenges if they know who they’re going to pick after just one?”
“Why don’t we discuss this in my tent?” Jer offered. “I always find bad news more palatable when I have something to wash it down with.”
The crowds had quieted enough for Tif to hear the administrator call out, “....concludes recruitment for today. We will resume tomorrow at midday with the third and final challenge, after which the division leaders will choose who to invite into their illustrious ranks...”
Tif pointed sharply at the administrator while staring at the Archon’s son, daring him to contradict. He and Sur-Rak had made her worry for nothing.
“You’re going to make me say it here, aren’t you?” Jer said, smiling at her as if he already knew the answer. “Well, if you won’t let me provide you with comfort, I can at least make it quick. Tomorrow, the division leaders will personally challenge anyone they think isn’t worthy of becoming a knight. It’s how they clear the chaff from those who will ascend to knighthood.” He rolled his eyes. “At least that’s how they’re fond of saying it. Pompous bunch.”
Tif was surprised to find that she was still standing after an answer like that, but perhaps that was just because her legs had frozen in place, much like her heart. Face a division leader? They were all arcknights, and she couldn’t even defeat a candidate.
Somehow she got her mouth moving. “What sort of challenge? A duel?”
“Anything they want,” Jer answered casually, as if he hadn’t just given her the worst news imaginable. “It could be a duel, it could be hitting targets, or something else they choose on a whim. And if you fail in it, they have rights to all of your ris. You have to swear as much to an Aspect before it begins. That’s why tomorrow only candidates who think they have a guaranteed chance at acceptance will dare show.”
Everything she had gained, gone in less than two days. Hysteric laughter bubbled in Tif’s chest but made it to no further than her throat, sticking there. She wondered if it would be the fastest fortune ever lost.
Jer pouted at her while her thoughts spun. “I hope you won’t think badly of me since the unfortunate news came from my lips. Perhaps if those words aren’t the last thing they give you.”
He leaned down to her, and at first Tif wasn’t sure what he was doing until he was kissing her cheek. His braided hair was coarser on her skin than Awt’s shoulder length waves, and the smell of woodsmoke was still there, but what arrested Tif’s attention was a spreading coolness on her skin where his lips touched her along with a competing sense of new heat. It was a decidedly odd sensation that left her cheek feeling both flushed and freezing until he broke contact, at which point it all but vanished.
He smiled at her winningly as they parted, his sharp teeth making him look somehow happier than a human could with their two flat rows of blocky ivory.
“I hope you’ll consider visiting me before you leave tonight,” he said, giving her a leg just as deep as those he’d given to Sur-Rak. “Until then.”
Watching him stride away, his grey tunic pulled tight across his wide shoulders and tapering down to his narrow waist, Tif felt herself grow hotter in a way that had nothing to do with her Blood ris. His repeated invites to his tent also took on a whole different meaning. She knew that some keshe preferred human companionship, but she was aware of it like she knew that the Gold Aspects used to be bigger or that the Archon could move the gargant--a thing heard more than once but not something Tif had seen or experienced herself...no keshe had looked at her how Jer just had or ever deigned to be so close.
“We need to find out if he’s telling the truth,” Tif said to Pep, forcing her mind into more familiar territory. It didn’t seem like he was lying, but she couldn’t simply stand there watching Jer walk through the recruitment field on his way to wherever he was going, likely his tent, for the rest of the day. Especially not if she was challenging a division leader tomorrow. Not to mention that she had ended things with Awt only hours earlier. Had that just been this morning? This had to be the longest day of her life.
Tif hurried over to a pair of servants in yellow robes who were helping a keshe boy still lying on the field.
“Is it true that the third challenge is against the division leaders,” she asked them as soon as she arrived.
The one on the left, a grey-haired woman, paused in her work to glance up. “It is, candidate.” The servant held a small jar containing a milk colored substance in one wrinkled hand and went back to painting it on strips of linen wrapped around the keshe’s neck with a brush. Tif saw now that the downed keshe was heavily bruised, one eye barely open, and breathing in long wheezes. This was the keshe Tif had watched Sur-Rak’s quiet companion land on his head. She hoped his neck wasn’t broken, but even if it wasn’t, he’d clearly taken multiple hits of ris without a shroud and was in no condition to fight tomorrow.
The second servant, a middle-aged man, spoke up. “Is there anything else we can answer for you, candidate?” He was positioned at the other end of the keshe, holding the boy’s legs about a foot off the ground, perhaps to help him breathe.
“No, thank you,” Tif said, not wanting to take up more of their time.
As she left, she heard the boy’s breathing get even worse--a hitching rasp. Might he die? She was tempted to spin around and give her Blood ris to him like she’d done for her fa. However, she barely had any charge left, so it might not be enough to help. Also, there was no guarantee the keshe would give it back, and he wouldn’t be able to if he died. Then where would she and her family be?
“We need to focus,” Tif said to Pep. “They hold recruitment every year. They know what they’re doing.” Putting her trust in that, she headed toward where she hoped the food was. She had a lot to think on, but no matter what she chose, she might as well get a meal out of it first.
Of course, as she entered an alley made of cloth tents that led off of the recruitment field, Tif couldn’t help but think about what she had discovered. She really would have to face a division leader if she stayed. Tif made it her business to listen to any story involving knights, especially division leaders, so she knew many of their names, even some of their preferred styles, but she held no illusions that she could best even the newest among them. But what if she didn’t have to? Jer had said that the challenge could be anything, and there was a lot Tif was good at. Maybe it wasn’t even about accomplishing the task but instead showing your conviction in trying. That was how she hoped they rated her in the first challenge, after all.
Tif caught Pep giving her a look. “I’m adding sweet to it, aren’t I?”
The trouble with her hopes is they didn’t line up with how anyone had acted. Jer obviously expected her not to participate, and Ede’s angry reaction to Tif’s well wishes made sense if the mature keshe thought Tif was mocking her about something she wouldn’t be doing. But if Tif didn’t stay and become a knight, what would she do? Live with her parents in the sewer for half a year until the next recruitment? Try to survive outside Lercel where Death tribes roamed? There was no guarantee that either would keep Vak-Lav away, unlike being with the knights.
Tif looked up and realized that she had followed her feet to a corner, near one of the stands of all things. The tiered structure was vacated of spectators, but there were a handful of servants picking up trash and other items that had been left by the boisterous crowd. One of them was a few tiers up--a tiny, young human girl who looked like she wouldn’t even come to Tif’s shoulder if they were standing side-by-side.
“Could you please direct me to the candidate’s tent?”
The young girl’s eyes widened seeing Tif, and she clenched a half eaten meat stick to her chest. “Certainly, candidate.”
Once the servant had descended the stand, Tif followed after her, watching the yellow robe she wore swish with each step. She mainly did it to distract herself from the smell of the food the girl carried. Tif hadn’t eaten all day, but she had gone much longer stretches without. The key was to focus on something else until the hunger went away, and watching pretty fabric move was more pleasant to her right now than trying to figure out her predicament.
She had just gotten her stomach settled down when the rich scent of roasted meats and vegetables along with a heady mixture of robust spices tickled her nose, waking it back up. She looked at the pale blue tent that stood before her, big as a house, and knew without a doubt that the deliciousness in the air was coming from inside. Tif thanked the servant, who stood beside one large tent flap, and stepped within.
Torches lit the interior, placed around each of the four huge poles that kept the cloth roof suspended, easily two stories high if not further. It was such a grand space it almost took away from her excitement for food. Almost.
“Look who it is,” someone said, snideness biting the edges of his words.
Tif dropped her gaze from the top of the tent to see that the speaker was the keshe boy who she had been paired against in the first challenge. He was sitting on the bench seat of a long, narrow table laden with meats, breads, stews, and even desserts. Across from him was the human girl who had lost to the Archon’s son. While he ripped into a leg of what seemed to be goat, she sipped on something in a bronze cup.
Tif covered the last few feet between her and the end of the table, grabbing the first thing she could reach--a small baked bird. The skin was perfectly crisped, with a bit of pepper and some herb that she would have savored at another time, but now it was all she could do not to swallow a bone as she devoured every bite of meat and gristle she could pull free.
“Pep, this is delicious,” she said between mouthfuls. Tif normally had to control her hunger, and she never let herself eat more than her parents. But now…maybe the stress of her recent experiences had caught up to her or maybe it was an effect of being healed by Blood ris, but looking at the stretch of completely free food spread out before her, Tif suddenly thought she could eat all of it, and she wanted to try.
“Can’t believe I had to duel a Blooder,” the keshe boy grumbled, turning back to the table. “And one who talks to herself at that.” He didn’t sound like he was expecting an answer, and Tif really wanted to keep eating, so she let the comment pass
By the time she had devoured the whole bird, a salt dusted potato, a slice of honey glazed cake, and a second bird, thirst finally overtook her need for food. Tif fumbled with pouring a cup of water from a beautiful, silver-worked pitcher, but the glass was too slick for her greasy fingers to hold steady. Eventually, she just picked it up in both hands and drank from the lip of it. The metal rim was cool on her tongue and the mountain water refreshing as it splashed into her mouth and the sides of her face, some of it dripping down her neck.
The pitcher thumped the wooden table when she put it back down, the glass thick at the bottom to make it heavy, and Tif joined the sound with a loud belch of her own, feeling, roundly, quite good.
Tif finally looked beyond the food and bench seats, taking in the rest of the long pavilion. It had simple cots running parallel to the table on both sides, ten a piece and all empty. Had so many others decided to leave already?
“Where’s everyone else?”
“Why?” the human girl asked behind her. “Hungry for more ris to steal?” She spoke incredibly fast, each word piled on the next without any space between them.
Surprised, Tif turned back to the pair. She saw that the human girl was regarding her coolly, the cup in front of her face so Tif could only see her eyes, which flashed in the torchlight.
“Took Ede years to get enough ris to enter,” the keshe added, not even bothering to look Tif’s way. He had cracked the goat bone in half at some point with his sharp teeth and was sucking on the marrow. “By the time she gets enough again, she’ll be too old. Least I wasn’t the only one to lose their shot because of a Blooder.”
Tif could guess the name Blooder was meant to be unflattering but not why she was responsible for the grouchy boy’s mood. Their match had been a tie; it was the second where he had lost.
“I gave it back to her,” Tif said, lifting her hand with Pep and wiggling her fingers to show that there was no Gold ris on them. Regardless of what the two thought of her, she wouldn’t have them calling her a thief when she didn’t deserve it.
“And my ma is a fairy,” the keshe boy said. “You likely just used it up which is why we can’t see it.”
Tif expected his companion to chime in again, and she did, speaking just as quickly as before,“You’ve been to Iislee?”
Tif frowned. “Where?” She had thought the conversation would be about the Gold ris longer.
The human girl gestured with her cup, revealing a slim nose and slimmer lips, as well as dull green, vine-like tattoos crawling up her neck. “The branch of Life tribe your bracelet is from.”
Tif looked at the soft green and cream piece of jewelry hanging from her wrist just below Pep, not letting herself think about Awt.
“You can tell that from where you’re sitting?”
“They’re the only type that wrap twice,” the girl said. Her voice slowed just a touch, taking on a sultry quality. “It’s called a binder. I bought one for Tad-Soo when we were there.” She snapped her head to the tent opening, looking far from pleased. “Which he best remember and come get me soon.”
The keshe gnawed at this bone. “Wish whoever had tried to bind her had kept her in Iislee or the Blood Plains or whatever Aspect cursed place she’s from instead of showing up here and ruining my chances.”
The human girl turned back to the keshe boy, giving him a level look. “The first challenge wouldn’t have mattered if you had waited with me in the second like Tad-Soo told us to.”
“Sure, Vytel. I’ll just fake a fall while I still had a shroud for all to see because this one”--he pointed at Tif with his stump of bone--“couldn’t throw a single shot.”
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The way the human girl talked had made Tif wonder, but Vytel wasn’t a Lercel name, which was enough to cinch it.
“Are you from Life tribe?”
Vytel sniffed, looking offended. “Of course.”
“No one would have believed it,” the keshe boy continued as if Tif and Vytel hadn’t spoken, “and even if they had, the division leaders would have seen straight through it and docked me for sure.”
Tif wasn’t quite following but she knew the sound of excuses well enough. “I’m sorry, are you complaining that I didn’t attack you?”
The keshe slammed his hands on the table, making the various cook- and servingware rattle. He stood, and though he wasn’t the tallest keshe Tif had seen, he was still a good foot taller than her.
“I think it’s time you left, Pep.”
Multiple things ran through Tif’s mind at once. She had just identified Vytel by her name and how she spoke, yet when trying to act like someone from the Blood Plains, Tif had told the administrator a Lercel style name and hadn’t changed her speaking patterns at all. Well, now was as good a time to start as any.
She stared straight up at him. “Tiforoth is called Tiforoth not Pep,” Tif said. “And Tiforoth is not going anywhere until the last challenge.”
He threw his head back and laughed, which she found rather annoying. The name she had come up with wasn’t that bad.
“You? Sticking it out in the third? I wish I could stay just to see that.” His expression took on a dangerous edge. “You know, if you’re going to throw your ris away like that, you might as well give it to me.”
He moved toward her but came to a stop only a half step later, something pressing against the light blue tunic he wore. Tif followed the angle of the indent to the human girl’s arm, Vytel’s hand titled as if she was holding a long sword over the narrow table, directly in front of the keshe’s path.
“You attack another candidate outside the challenges while I’m here,” Vytel said, her words chasing each other in a rush, “I get docked.”
“Just a duel then--”
“Dax,” she said, “it’s time you go.”
Tif watched him stiffen and then return to his seat.
“Not until I eat and drink my fill,” he said, putting action to words and shoving near half a cake in his mouth--the first thing he had done that Tif could actually respect.
With Dax occupied, Tif walked around the table toward Vytel.
“Thank you,” she said to her. The feeling of maybe having found a kindred spirit bubbled in Tif again. “Tiforoth wonders why you want to be a kni--”
The Life girl shifted her invisible sword to point directly at Tif, and Tif stopped, unsure where the blade ended.
“Stay there,” Vytel said. “I like my ris where it is.”
“What are…?” Tif started but then caught on. “Tiforoth wouldn’t do that. It was an accident.”
“A Blooder reject,” Dax said around a mouth of food. “No wonder she ended up here.”
Vytel stood, which Tif hadn’t expected. Was the Life girl going to attack her after having stopped Dax from doing the same? That didn’t seem likely, but Tif wouldn’t have minded having more of her Blood ris back in case since the girl had yet to drop the sword.
“I’m finding Tad,” Vytel declared.
“He’th probably still with hith ma,” Dax managed to say around the half section pie he’d crammed into his mouth.
“She’ll be my roots soon, too,” Vytel said, and Tif thought she sounded a touch unsure.
Dax coughed and then somehow managed to swallow it all down. Tif could swear he was sweating, he was eating so hard.
“You want to piss off an arcknight, that’s your business,” he got out.
Vytel hesitated a moment and then departed, moving past Tif and through the entry flap in a brisk walk just as fast as her words.
Tif stood there a moment, feeling her hunger shift into an overwhelming need for sleep. She would have forced herself to stay away to speak to Vytel--there were loads of things that she wanted to ask about Life tribe--but she didn’t fancy talking with Dax--he’d probably as soon punch her as speak with her.
Tif slumped over to the nearby beds. Sleep would be good. It would recharge her ris along with her body and mind, leaving her better equipped to think through her next move. Plus, if she didn’t make it into the knights, this might be the last peaceful rest she got for a while. Vytel had mentioned a sick tent, which might be quieter than Dax’s crunching, but Tif found she didn’t care.
She laid down on one of the two cots next to the entrance flap because she was used to seeing sky when she slept and that she did care about. It was a soft bed, too soft in fact compared to her family’s usual wooden pallet, but all Tif felt was a relief to close her eyes and soon found herself drifting. Not full sleep at first--she was awake enough to hear Dax chewing, and later she thought someone stopped at her cot, maybe the keshe, but by that point she was falling deeper and deeper away from the world outside her body, so far that there was nothing at all she knew...until her eyes popped back open to find the tent pitch black.
Someone had just walked by her, she was sure, but she couldn’t see anyone in the darkness. Tif was also confused as to where the sun had gone until she realized that it must be the middle of the night. Propping herself up on her elbows, she looked over at the table, thinking to grab a bite. Without the torches lit Tif couldn’t say for certain, but to her it looked like there wasn’t any food left--maybe Dax had succeeded in eating it all, his vengeance against her and the year’s recruitment complete. Shifting her gaze slightly, Tif thought she saw two or three other lumps in the beds in her row, but much like the table she wasn’t entirely sure. Not wanting to risk waking them if they were there, she eased out of bed and then pushed through the nearby entrance flap, which had been closed for the evening. It was heavy--much heavier than any clothes or sheets she’d felt before.
Letting it fall gently behind her, Tif looked around but didn’t see anyone. Maybe it had been the tail end of a dream that had woken her or another sound from the sprawling camp. She took a big breath of the cool night air, savoring the feel of it filling her lungs before she exhaled. She was awake, invigorated, and there was no way she’d be able to get back to sleep right now. Tif was also happy to feel some heat on her arms and torso. She hadn’t even had the ris two full nights yet and she was already more comfortable when its gentle warmth was present.
Metal hook poles stood sentinel on either side of the tent entrance, large lanterns hanging from them that illuminated the immediate area. Tif saw similar lanterns off to the right, suspended in the air like yellow-orange stars hanging at head height. She was used to making her way in the lows with regular starlight but these would do well enough.
Tif walked toward the closest grouping of them, heading into the blackness that separated one island of light from another. Near as she could tell the pavilion she had woken up in was situated at the edge of the recruitment area. Where the field and stands and all the rest were in relation to that she didn’t know.
“Maybe Jer is still up,” Tif said to Pep as she moved through the inky night. She hadn’t meant to sleep through his invitation; the tiredness had just come on her so quickly.
Closer now to the lights she was headed toward, Tif realized that they weren’t for multiple pavilions as she had expected. Instead, six lanterns stood in two rows of three, illuminating a path to the entrance of a single pavilion. Unlike the one she had left, this one was a deep green, but it had the same closed flap over the entrance, blocking a view of what lay within. Tif couldn’t tell exactly how far the pavilion itself extended into the night, but she got the impression that it was much bigger than the one for the candidates, which, until seeing it, she wouldn’t have thought possible to keep upright.
Tif saw a form wearing yellow robes duck out of the large flap and head down the path of lanterns.
“Excuse me,” Tif said, jogging the rest of the distance to meet them at the end of the lights. The servant stopped and turned to face her. He was a young man Tif discovered, and when he saw who she was, he gave a slight bow.
“Honored candidate,” he said. “How may I be of assistance?”
“Who is in there?” she said, nodding to the overlarge structure.
“This is the division leader’s pavilion.”
Tif suddenly couldn’t take her eyes off of the flap that fluttered in the slight evening breeze. If she could speak to them, any of them, she was sure she could convince at least one to take her on. And if the servant was up, someone inside likely was as well.
Tif stepped toward the entrance, and the young man immediately interposed himself.
“I’m sorry,” the servant said, though he didn’t look it. In the lantern light he looked like he would try to wrestle her to the ground if she tried to continue on her current course. “Candidates aren’t allowed into this pavilion.”
Tif thought she could get around him, or she could just grab hold of him. Servants, like the toughs she had fought in her parents’ alley, didn’t have any ris, so a brief touch should knock him out.
He seemed to sense what she was planning to do and said, rather rushed, “No one who has bothered the division leaders before the third challenge has been given an offer of acceptance.”
“Drat,” she said, falling back on her heels.
“If you tell me what you’re looking for, I’d be happy to direct you,” he said, though he didn’t relax in the slightest.
Tif could tell that he was just trying to get rid of her, but she could understand that.
“Where are people like Sur-Rak and the Archon’s son Jer staying?”
The young servant didn’t hesitate to point to the left, in the same direction she had been headed.
“On the other side of the recruitment field,” he said. “The founding nobility all have their own row of private tents. They should be very well lit.”
Tif noticed that he didn’t offer to take her personally--probably worried that she’d sneak around him if he moved--and she smiled at him.
“Thank you.” Tif walked out of the lights, the way he had pointed. “There’s your explanation,” Tif said to Pep. They had wondered where the obvious winners were since the candidate’s pavilion had been so bare of people. Founding nobility, eh? Just a different way of saying extra rich. In the lows nobles were nobles, not that any came down that far. But since you couldn’t go any higher than noble class without becoming a knight, and not many did, she supposed that they had to come up with another way to divide who was on top among themselves--that was a tradition as old as Lercel.
“When I’m Archon,” Tif said, playing the game she loved even more than das, “maybe we get rid of the classes? People's names as long as they want them to be? What do you think of that?” She couldn’t see Pep’s face in the dark but she didn’t need to. She knew Pep was thinking that if she didn’t figure her way out of the rat trap she had gotten herself into, she wasn’t going to be the Archon anytime soon.
Sleeping the day away was okay, she had clearly needed the rest, but now it was time to get to work. So, as she walked toward the next island of light, she went through her options. If she gave the ris back to Vak-Lav, she’d lose the only protection and leverage she had, and like her ma had said, there was no way to know if Vak-Lav would let her leave that meeting alive. Awt had said otherwise, but he hadn’t been in control of the goons he had brought, and if he couldn’t manage the underground’s muscle, there was no way he could control their leader.
She could tell the knights what had happened with Torgath and what Vak-Lav was trying to do. The knights would likely be angry she had pretended to be from the Blood Plains, particularly the administrator--he looked like he could hold a grudge. Tif was sure they’d make her give them her Blood ris and they might put her in prison for a time, but that was nicer than maybe being murdered. If the knights found Vak-Lav that would be good, but they might also find Awt that way, and if Tif wasn’t there to protect him, he could be killed. If they didn’t find Vak-Lav, which was a very real possibility considering that most everyone, Tif included, had no idea what the underground leader looked like, Vak-Lav would know it was her who sold them out and be even angrier with her and by association her parents than they already were.
For the first time Tif almost wished that Torgath hadn’t given the ris to her, or at least asked if she wanted it, considering the trouble that it carried. Thinking back she actually didn’t think he had been planning to, since he had avoided her touch. It had been her who had put her palms on his when he had been distracted.
“Just had to say goodbye the Blood Plains way, didn’t you?”
Hiding would only delay Vak-Lav or the knights getting it, Tif was fairly sure, which left her with her last and original option: participating in the third challenge and losing her ris if she didn’t make the cut.
She had passed two islands of lights and was now standing on the edge of the recruitment field. The large space was a stretch of darkness so deep Tif couldn’t see what was on the far side.
“Like our future,” she said to Pep with a semi-sad chuckle. That wasn’t the whole truth though. Lining up her choices like she had let Tif see a very distinct theme: in all of them she didn’t get to keep the Blood ris. And if she wasn’t going to get to keep it anyway, why not bet it on her best option? She still believed that if she did get into the knights she’d have the training and protection she needed, which she could extend to her parents.
Also, something kept nagging at her. It was what Jer had said about how before the third challenge candidates pledge to an Aspect that they’ll give up their ris if they fail. But, despite Sur-Rak’s wild theory, there were no Blood Aspects in Lercel, just Gold. How could they enforce a pledge like that from Tif? She knew Aspects could put their ris over another type, effectively erasing the first, but that’s not what the knights would want. Tif had thought that maybe Blood ris’s trait was free exchange between people, but Sur-Rak was clearly knowledgeable and yet the keshe had believed a Blood Aspect was required for Tif to have received what she had. So, if Tif didn’t tell anyone she could transfer it, had she found a loophole that would let her try the third challenge and still keep her ris if they decided not to pick her?
This was why she needed to speak more with Jer. Not because of his advances toward her but because he was a Blood user who had information she needed to make a very important decision--maybe the most important one of her life. She’d have to be careful to ask him in such a manner it didn’t give away who she really was, if she hadn’t already revealed it with how carelessly she had spoked today, but hopefully he liked her enough that he hadn’t noticed or wouldn’t care.
The dark mass of the recruitment field passed on her left, and Tif picked up her pace for all of five steps when the glint of something caught her eye on the right. The corner of the division leader’s hidden stand was only a handful of feet in front of her, and now that she was nearer, Tif could see that a side curtain was also present, stretching far to the right, keeping the stand from view on this side, too. The second curtain was about a foot off the ground, and though Tif couldn't make out the stand, she could see the base of something strangely familiar.
“Pep” she said. “Those wouldn’t be, would they?”
Tif dashed over to the side, excitement and curiosity making her move quickly. She turned her head left and right as she did, but she wasn’t sure why. The servant had said she couldn’t go in the leaders’ pavilion but hadn’t said anything about their stand. Besides, if the division leaders were challenging people tomorrow, they’d have to be seen. She was just getting a sneak peek.
Once there, she crouched on the ground, ducking her head under the curtain. It was even darker within than out, as there were no lanterns burning on the inside. However, those from where she had come from snuck under the cloth like her head, giving her just enough light to see what she had guessed: it was the bases of five statues, each nearly as tall as she was. She could tell from the creeping light that they were different colors, and if that wasn’t enough proof, far across, she could just make out another row of five statues. It was a huge das set with pieces bigger than anything she had seen in Sur-Rak’s collection.
Tif was looking around to see how large the tiles would be when she heard a voice. She glanced behind her, still on all fours, expecting to find some servant frowning down at her odd behavior. No one was there though, so she poked her head back under, listening, and she thought she heard it from the left. In that direction, up on something, there were a number of narrow objects. Maybe chairs?
“...chon will be in attendance tomorrow,” Tif barely caught on the air.
It seemed like someone responded, but either they were talking quieter or further away because Tif couldn’t make out their words.
“Do not strike prematurely.”
Tif frowned. Strike? At the Archon? That couldn’t be right.
“You’re not ready. Not unti--”
Tif had been crawling forward but froze at the same moment the far off voice seemed to. Had they heard her? Quiet as she could, she inched away, feeling the heavy curtain slide along her back and then over her head until she was out of the division leader’s area.
She stayed there, unsure where to go or of what she had heard, repeating in her head the few words she had managed to catch. Each time Tif ran through them the tenser she grew because with every repetition she and Pep knew with greater certainty what their goals must be. There was no point in just injuring the Archon, not with the risk involved.
These people, whoever they were, were planning murder.