Tif woke up alone in the tent. The small tin cup Jer had been drinking out of was positioned near her head as if inviting her to have a sip. She pushed herself into a sitting position, reaching for it and froze. The amount of light filtering into the small room through gaps in the tent fabric meant that the sun had risen some time ago. After everything, had she slept through the third challenge?
Scrambling to her feet, she pushed open the tent flap and stumbled outside. Tif had to blink her eyes against the bright light of day but soon after spotted Jer only a few feet away and blew out a sigh of relief. If he was still by his tent the challenge hadn’t started yet, and a quick glance at the sun confirmed that it wasn’t quite midday--though it was closer to time than she would have liked. If she had slept another hour she would have missed it.
Jer was sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, and she circled around him so they were facing each other.
“You didn’t wake me,” Tif accused. Then she realized that she had said ‘me’ instead of her name and couldn’t recall which Torgath had used.
Jer opened one eye to look at her, though his rhythmic breathing remained the same.
“Honestly, I was hoping you’d sleep through it,” he answered in one long exhale.
She crossed her arms, trying to look angry, not worried about her potential mistake. “That was unkind of you.”
“On the contrary, it was very kind,” Jer said, closing his eye.
He wasn’t acting like he had noticed anything out of place, thank the Aspects, and as for his comment, well, they obviously weren’t going to agree on her attendance today, and his opinion on the topic didn’t really matter, so Tif let it go.
“Why are you meditating? Your ris is already back. Tiforoth saw it last night.” It really had been a beautiful collection of tattoos. Maybe Tif would have something similar one day, before she became the Archon, though she couldn’t imagine bothering with seals from Death.
“I don’t meditate just to recharge. It helps me strip away the noise of the world and focus on what truly matters.”
Tif liked the sound of that well enough. “Which is?”
“To stop you from going to the last challenge.”
“That’s not going to--” Tif heard a strangled sound, and turned to see that Sur-Rak was approaching them both.
“What are you two doing together?” the keshe demanded, looking regal as always--every strand of hair and stitch of clothing in place.
Tif was surprised that Sur-Rak’s anger seemed directed more at Jer than her this time around, which was a curious change.
“Exactly what it looks like,” Jer answered from his seat on the ground, keeping his eyes closed. “Having a friendly conversation. At least until someone joined us.”
Sur-Rak turned up her nose at him, as if Jer could see the slight. “You always were a terrible noble. Even Tad knew better than to have his companions join him despite the fact that he’s apparently involved with one of them.”
Sur-Rak’s disparaging tone showed what she thought of that match, but Tif’s interest was in how the comment slotted things into place. It explained why Vytel and Dax had been in the regular candidate’s tent, not here. It was also probably why Vytel had given Tad a binder bracelet--to remind him of her when they couldn’t be together. Tif suspected that Awt’s reasoning had been the same.
She glanced down at the loose piece of jewelry that encircled her wrist. It was so light Tif often forgot she was wearing it. She should really take it off at some point…
“These pavilions are for founding families only, not the land they sit on,” Jer replied after a particularly long breath in. His eyes remained firmly closed Tif noticed. “I can do what I like in my tent.”
Looking around, Tif saw quite a few more details than she had the night before. There were at least a dozen of the boxy cloth structures, each a unique, vibrant color. The pavilions sat in two neat rows, making a wide path in-between them, leaving Tif to wonder which of them Jer was supposed to be using. He was the Archon’s son, after all, so he must have one. If Tif had to guess, she’d pick the red pavilion that matched his eyes, situated on the far left corner. It not only looked stately but also unused, its front flap tied with knots and no scuffs on the dirt ground in front of it.
“Your hovel you mean,” Sur-Rak said. “I don’t know how you managed to survive traipsing across the world in it.”
Tif turned back to Sur-Rak. “Where are your friends? Tiforoth wanted to tell the quiet one thank you for her help the other day.”
“Why yes,” Jer said, “where is the rest of your trio?”
Sur-Rak looked at Tif oddly--due to how she had just spoken no doubt--but more than that, the keshe acted like the two of them were ganging up on her with the question, hesitating before responding.
“They both left last night, as was proper given their poor performance,” Sur-Rak answered, attempting and failing to sound neutral. “And they are acquaintances, nothing more.”
Tif wasn’t sure what acquaintances were, but she knew what she had seen. “You acted like friends.”
“An Archon has none,” Sur-Rak said, emphasizing the word as if to drive home that she knew what was needed to rise to the rank while Tif did not. “So I see no point in wasting effort cultivating something that I will eventually need to purge myself of.”
“You’re not going to be the Archon,” Jer said with his even breaths.
Sur-Rak grew still, looking at him hard. “So, you do mean to challenge me for the position. That is why you’re back.”
Tif felt a chill despite the warmth of her Blood ris. Could the assassin be...Sur-Rak? It obviously hadn’t been her speaking the other night, but Tif didn’t think Sur-Rak would sully herself with such a matter personally, just like her technique of striking with ris was indirect. Judging from Sur-Rak’s home and the way she had treated flats so uncaringly, she could certainly afford to hire someone to do it.
“You get ahead of yourself like usual, Sur,” Jer said. “There are many more likely candidates for Archon than the two of us.”
Tif immediately wanted to know who those people were, as they seemed the likeliest group of suspects.
“Getting ahead is called planning,” Sur-Rak smirked at him, her concern from a moment before seemingly forgotten, “which is how great feats are accomplished, not just following your wants”--she glanced between him and Tif meaningfully--“wherever they take you.”
“I’m sure you know best,” he said, conceding the matter in what appeared to Tif like a way to try and end the conversation. Sur-Rak, however, didn’t seem so inclined.
“Besides, your mother isn’t stepping down anytime soon. When she does, I will be in my prime.”
Tif frowned. If that was true, Sur-Rak wouldn’t want to remove the Archon now.
“Sounds like you have it all figured out,” Jer said. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we need to get ready to attend.”
“We?” Sur-Rak said the word as if she disliked the taste of it. “Did you fail to explain the consequences of the third challenge to her? Or...say you only would once she spent the night with you?” she hissed. “If I had known you would stoop to such a measure, I would have told her myself.”
Jer finally opened his eyes, giving Sur-Rak a truly disappointed look. “I did neither, and it pains me that you think so lowly of me.”
Tif supposed it was nice that, despite everything between them, Sur-Rak was looking out for her. However, Tif didn’t like the way she was being talked about as if she wasn’t there or couldn't make her own decisions.
“Tiforoth knows what the third challenge is, Sur.”
Sur-Rak’s head spun to look at her so quickly Tif was surprised she didn’t hear a bone pop.
“You can’t call me that.”
“Why can’t she?” Jer said, sounding amused. “Tiforoth has more seals than you, at least three. I could tell from the draw when we touched.”
“So you did touch,” Sur-Rak said, pointing a manicured finger at each of them before lingering on Jer. “And you know foreign seals don’t count toward rank. Otherwise you’d be an arcknight with your ridiculous amalgamation.”
That made a sort of sense to Tif. Two Gold seals a noble, three a knight, and four an arcknight. She hadn’t seen Jer’s spine, but he had enough Gold for two seals, and a seal of Blood and Death each. Four seals, the same that human noble Tad-Soo must have considering all the abilities he had used. And Sur-Rak had beaten him with only two of Gold.
Tif nodded to Pep. This was another reason she needed to become a knight now, and it was a good reminder. If she let Sur-Rak get a year ahead of her, Tif honestly wasn’t sure she’d ever catch up to the talented keshe in time to become the Archon first.
“--be so,” Jer finished something she hadn’t fully caught, “but they obviously considered her worthy to be a candidate for the challenges, which puts her on the same level as you.”
Tif wasn’t going to tell them how much the administrator had resisted her inclusion, and she didn’t think the person she was pretending to be would know the inner division leader’s name.
“A keshe with metal legs said so,” was all Tif added.
Sur-Rak looked like she wanted to say something, probably to argue, but held herself back. “I tried,” she finally managed and then stormed off.
When the straight-backed keshe was well down the line of colorful pavilions, Jer stood.
“Well, that was pleasant,” he said.
Tif watched Sur-Rak turn alone at the red pavilion on her way to the candidate field. “She was just nervous, looking for a distraction. And with her friends gone”--Tif knew that’s what they were whether Sur-Rak admitted it or not--“she didn’t have anyone else to talk to.” Looking back on their conversation, it seemed to Tif like they’d all been acting that way, discussing things that mattered little compared to what they were about to become. It made a sort of sense she supposed. Tif often talked non-stop with Pep when waiting for something really important to happen, like a lotto drawing or the next mark on a slow das day.
“Sur-Rak? Nervous?” Jer said, as if he couldn’t imagine those two things going together.
“Just like she was about you being here.”
He paused to process that particular revelation, and Tif thought he might ask how she knew such an intimate detail.
“I suppose stranger things have happened,” Jer said without sounding convinced. He then raised his hands palm up in the farwell Torgath had shown her. “Regardless, I should go, and you--”
Tif headed after Sur-Rak, not bothering to let him finish the thought.
“Are you truly this eager to lose your ris?” he asked when he had caught up to her.
“I’m not planning on losing anything.”
From the corner of her eye Tif saw Jer consider and discard a few thoughts before deciding on: “As little as I enjoy sounding like my cousin, when we first met she was asking you a question I now find myself wondering the answer to. Why would someone like you want to be bound to Lercel of all places?”
She gave him a look, surprised that he sounded just as disparaging about his home as he did his ma.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Terribly forward, I know,” Jer said, apologetically. “Something your people would never do. Not a one asked me, a keshe, why I had come to them or wished to learn their ways. They just accepted that my blood had called me to them.”
Blood. Torgath had talked like that about it, Tif remembered, which meant she should find chances to do the same.
“I have tried to extend the same courtesy to you,” he said, “even when…”
Tif shared a look with Pep. Even when she didn’t sound or act like she was from Blood. The sooner she told everyone she was trying to sound like the people from here the better. But that was something she could worry about after the challenges. Now she had to figure out a way to get through the third. She had all the reasons to participate but not a way to win, and she agreed with Jer: after her performance yesterday, an arcknight was going to challenge her. Her luck might hold a touch longer and they’d ask her to do something she was skilled at or was a good match for the two seals she knew how to use. But Jer had also been right about her having three seals, and if she knew how to use the last, it could change everything. This was what she had been planning to ask Jer about before the whispers in the night had distracted her.
They were almost to the red pavilion, and around the corner was the field, so Tif stopped. Jer stopped with her, clearly expecting an answer to his question.
“Why only get one seal from my people instead of two or three?” she asked him.
He cocked his head at her, his braided hair drooping to the side. “I was traveling light and so couldn’t afford the price for more. I also doubt they would have honored me with such a treasure unless I had stayed much longer. What does that have to do--.”
“But with two you could heal and three…” Tif tried not to look as eager as she felt. If he could just…
Jer frowned. “Attach to things? Without the strength of a cyclops, I didn’t see much point in that. Besides, I needed to save room for--”
But Tif was no longer listening because her mind had raced back to the lower level of the underground with Torgath, feeling herself being yanked toward the cyclops. She had been forced to move not because Torgath had gripped her hands in his but because his skin had pulled at hers like they were stuck together.
Of course! Tif shared a triumphant look with Pep. Blood ris was good for close quarter fighting and what better way to keep your opponent near than preventing them from moving away? Tif put her other hand against her new lemony pants and imagined heat leaving her palm. Feeling a thrill like she was about to flip the game winning tile, she pulled her hand away and the cloth moved with it.
“It seems my words no longer interest you.”
Tif instantly stopped pushing heat through her hand; she didn’t want Jer catching her doing exactly what he had just described--he could see Blood ris after all. Tif raised her eyes and was relieved to find him focused on her face, his pout from the other day in full form. She wanted to dance about she was so excited by her discovery, but seeing his hurt expression made Tif feel bad after how much he had helped her and the personal things he had shared.
“Tifo--,” Tif stopped herself. She might as well switch now before she made more mistakes. “I. I have been in Lercel a while now, learning about the people here. People I want to help.” If he was trying to read her desires with his Gold seals, that would ring true. “Lercel is special to me,” she said, smiling at him, just as big as the ones he often gave her. She was ready, ready as she could be, and the sun was nearly straight above them. “Let’s go become knights.”
He looked at her a moment, but Tif could tell it wouldn’t be long before he agreed.
“I would like to meet these ‘people’ who have captured your passion so,” he finally said. “I’d wager they are as…intriguing as you.”
Tif enjoyed the thought of him meeting her parents, though probably not Awt. She winked at him while starting to walk away.
“Who’s to say you’re not one of them?”
Jer chuckled as he followed, and Tif wasn’t sure if it was his Gold ris or his general good cheer that made the sound so pleasant.
“Very well,” he said. “But promise me that if my grandfather or Ihl-Ves challenges you, you will instantly forfeit.” He gave her a serious look when he finished, which Tif only half caught.
Now that they were around the red pavilion, she could see that it was pretty much a straight shot to where they were supposed to be. The side of the white draped Division Leaders’ enclosure was maybe fifty feet ahead of them, and one of the long stands for spectators was closer on the right. Tif could only see the backs of the people sitting at the top of the tiered structure, but the chatter of so many people was a low rumble she picked up on now that she was looking at them.
Not that she looked long, her attention pulled back to the smaller hidden stand, remembering all too clearly the whispers she had heard within about harming the Archon. Where were those people now, she wondered. In the stands? Among the servants or candidates? Or even more terrifying, were they themselves division leaders? The last seemed most likely because who else would be so bold as to attack the Archon or stood to gain so much from her death? The voice she’d been able to catch had said not to strike at the Archon today, but would whoever they were scheming with listen?
It wasn’t until Jer cleared his throat that Tif realized she’d never responded to his promise.
“Why those two specifically?” she asked as they passed the side of the tiered stand. Maybe something he could tell her would relate to the assassins.
“They are both incredibly powerful but don’t always control it well, or simply don’t care to,” Jer said, having to speak loudly over the nearby spectators. “They could easily kill you while teaching you humility.”
Tif thought Jer was underestimating her ability to heal, but nodded to him so he wouldn’t worry. More importantly, the personality he had described could match someone seeking greater power, so Tif decided to keep an eye on both.
Currently, her eyes were staring at the empty, high-backed chairs that were sitting on the division leader stand. She could see them because the tall, metal framework used for the front curtain had been set about ten feet back on the stage, revealing a series of chairs on the raised dark-wood platform but nothing else.
“Those were the tall shadows I saw last night,” Tif whispered to Pep.
She felt Jer put his hands on her shoulders and begin to direct her forward, and Tif let him guide the way so she could stare longer at the chairs they were passing on the left: each one was carved from blonde wood, with brass studs at the joints, and inky velvet, plump on the seat cushion and tufted running up the high backs. There were seven chairs in total, which matched with the number of division leaders. She was about to see all of Lercel’s arcknights in one place and in person!
Jer turned her to the right, cutting off her view of the empty seats, but in its place was a sight nearly as intriguing: the line of candidates who had turned out for the third challenge. Sur-Rak was at the far end of the line, decidedly not looking their way, along with Opa, the tall keshe who had challenged Tif to a duel, and Rof, the sleepy looking keshe who had knocked Tif down in the second challenge. There was also the keshe boy who had moved so slowly in the second challenge and had his palm strike redirected by Sur-Rak, taking him out.
They reached the line themselves, and Jer positioned himself next to the nearest candidate, Opa, and turned to face the partially revealed division stand. Tif did the same. There was no one to her right, so it was just empty space between her on the other viewing stand, which was a fair ways off--not that the distance stopped Tif from hearing their lively murmurs, the same as the other stand she and Jer had passed.
“Why are we at the end of the line?” Tif asked. A competitive part of her suddenly itched to stand ahead of Sur-Rak, the same place she wanted to finish their race of becoming Archon.
“Maybe the division leaders will be tired of challenging people the time they get to you.”
Tif gave his joke the snort it deserved but then thought of a better reason to be last: she’d get to see how the third challenge worked. Like scouting an opponent in das, any patterns she could discover in the way the division leaders did things could be invaluable when it came her turn. Also, while she and Pep were very happy that she knew how to stick her body to things now, they both agreed that she needed every leg up she could get.
“I thought there would be more candidates,” Tif said to Jer. The more there were, the more she’d get to watch, assuming the division leaders went through candidates from left to right.
“Some are still undecided,” Jer said, pointing a thumb behind himself.
Tif looked over her shoulder to find Tad-Soo and Vytel standing a few paces from the candidate line. Their heads were close together, so Tif couldn’t make out what they were saying but it was clear they were arguing from the sharp gestures both were making--so sharp, Tif was surprised that she didn’t see a shimmer in the air of a shroud being struck.
A glance up at the sun showed Tif that they didn’t have much time left to choose. She wasn’t sure if they had to be in the line to be considered present or not, but the tall administrator from the day before was striding toward the candidates from behind, which certainly meant that things would soon be under way.
Vytel seemed to notice the same because without warning she broke away from Tad-Soo and marched toward the candidate line. Tif leaned forward to look past Jer and saw Vytel not only get in line but put enough space between her and Sur-Rak to make it clear that she was at the front of it.
Tad-Soo joined her only moments later, staring forward. The looping green ris that covered the right side of his face hid some of his emotion, but Tif could tell from his tight jaw that he was worried about Vytel.
“Believe in her. That’s all she needs,” she told him from a distance.
“Welcome!” the administrator’s voice boomed behind Tif and she nearly hopped into the air. Turning around again, she saw the tall keshe motioning to both spectator stands, his voluminous red sleeves waving like flags.
“As is custom for the second day of recruitment, the division leaders will challenge candidates whose presence they deem unworthy. Any found lacking will lose not only this opportunity but all the ris that they possess.”
There were rumbles of enthusiasm from the crowd on both sides, though Tif heard the one to the right much louder since she was closer to it. To her left, she heard Jer’s breathing, a steady in and out just like he had done earlier. Tif marveled that someone as skilled as him, who surely wouldn’t be challenged, was worried enough to resort to a meditative technique again. She figured she should probably be worried, too, but she just couldn’t seem to hold onto the feeling. Here she was, a girl from the lows who had spent the last day not only sparring with knights to be but talking with them like an equal. She was surrounded by nobles and soon the division leaders themselves, when before yesterday, no one but Pep had ever really believed she would be allowed into recruitment, let alone participate, and definitely not make it to the second day. Worry? No, she couldn’t catch that, but Tif had gratitude to spare--gratitude for this chance and to Torgath for making it possible.
“Gul-Lan-Tho!” the administrator cried, and the white curtain on the division leader’s stage shifted in the middle, revealing that there was a split in the fabric. A large human man pushed past the thick cloth and walked onto the division leader’s platform. The ends of his thick mustache fell below his chin, and he had Gold ris on his bald head in the place of hair. Tif clapped her hands excitedly. She knew exactly who he was; in fact, he was another inspiration to her--the only human division leader raised in her lifetime. “Western patrol division leader!” the administrator called to the crowds, as Gul-Lan waved, taking the chair on the far right, across from Tif.
“Udaru!” the administrator shouted, and an aquaros stepped through the curtain. The reptilian creature was the size of most humans but hunched and narrower of waist. Its scales were a royal blue, the same color as the Tears ris its people were known for. The division leader walked on taloned toes, tail held up and straight behind as it crossed the stage. This aquaros was why Tif had thought that her Blood ris might be accepted by the knights, and now she was seeing the foreign warrior for the first time. Tif squealed in joy.
“Are you quite alright?” Jer asked.
“Wonderful!” she said.
“Southern patrol division leader!” the administrator yelled, as Udaru took the seat next to Gul-Lan, tucking its tail beside its legs.
“Mek-Car-Rin!” A young keshe female was the next to enter; the youngest division leader in a generation, from what Tif had heard. She had a thick bar of Gold tattoos across the bridge of her nose, which turned at right angles at both temples, the ris running parallel down her cheeks, jaw, and neck. Her eyes being covered by the bar made her look fearsome but her wide smile and low dimples softened her appearance. “Eastern patrol division leader!”
Tif knew who would be next at this rate, the one Jer had warned her about.
“Ihl-Ves-Lee!” the administrator predictably called. A keshe in her middle years entered, wearing more sheer clothing than anything Tif had seen in the highs. The arcknight would have been naked if not for all the geometric Gold tattoos covering her skin--ris that kept her body and face, not young, but beautiful and smooth. She stalked across the stage imperiously as the administrator said, “Western wall division leader, master of the exploding strike!”
Tif raised an eyebrow. None of the other arcknights had been paired with a favored technique.
Jer answered before she asked, “Ihl-Ves cares just as much about her reputation as her looks, and people know it, which is another reason not to cross her.”
“Sha-Ahn-Ras!” A keshe so old he had lines despite his ris lurched onto stage. He seemed to be staring off at a distant point and moved with a shuffling gait. Tif, like everyone else in Lercel, knew the name of the Archon’s father, Jer’s grandfather. He had been an arcknight since before Tif’s parents had been born, and was often said to be one of the most powerful users of the first Gold seal ever to walk the mountain.
But Tif hadn’t expected him to walk quite like that.
“Um,” she said, as the administrator cried with fervor, “Southern wall division leader!”
“It’s his technique,” Jer explained, “a constant meditative state, so he gains ris charge near as fast as he uses it. It makes him look, well, as you see.”
“Huh,” Tif said. She’d have to give that a whirl sometime.
Jer’s grandfather eventually made it to his seat beside Ihl-Ves, though he took much longer than anyone else, at which point the administrator said, “Hur-Rek-Sar!”
A keshe Tif recognized stepped onto stage, the one with bars of metal running down the sides of his legs and around his waist. He looked just as serious as he had yesterday, and Tif couldn’t have been more confused to see him. The Archon’s younger brother was the inner division leader but next should have been the eastern wall division.
Hur-Rek thumped across the wood stage, the metal on his legs wrapping around the bottom of his boots and creating the noise. The sound from the crowd had been growing to a crescendo with each new arcknight, but lessened considerably with his arrival, even when the administrator announced his inner division title. Unlike the other division leaders who brought important resources back to Lercel or protected the city from invaders, the inner division was in charge of policing everything from the lows to the highs, and Tif rarely met someone who didn’t have an opinion on how the city should be better kept--herself included.
When Hur-Rek sat, leaving only one empty chair on the far left, the administrator didn’t immediately call out the final name. Instead, he circled around in front of the candidates, smiling widely at them and then the spectators on either side.
“And lastly, we have a surprise for you today.” He bowed low, raising one arm toward the division leader platform behind him. “The Archon herself has decided to bless us with her radiant presence!”
From what Tif had heard in the night, she had guessed that the Archon would appear at some point today, but she had assumed it would be at the end, when the last challenge was over and candidates were being raised. But Jer’s ma was here? Now? Tif clapped her hands to her mouth--not that she could have found her voice if she had wanted--as the curtains pulled back on either side, revealing her hero.