CHAPTER 2

Eighty-seven embarrassing stories later, Casus and Exram's questions were anticlimactic, and I was fairly certain provided by their parents from their own Trials of Worth decades before.

After my part came the last step: our five foals and a circle of finalists from the previous step had a private party. The theory is that arcanists and their eldrin are supposed to compliment each other, and centaurs are famous for their inability to hold their liqueur.

A full grown centaur weighs between 1,800 and 2,000 pounds and stands five and a half feet tall at their equine shoulder, but their tolerance for alcohol is equal to a man one tenth that weight. There was quite a bit of size difference between Apiona, Devid, Casus, Exram, and Behmilan; but even large Behmilan had stopped growing at a quarter of an adult centaur's weight. The human finalists would have five drunks on their hands before they knew what was happening.

I, on the other hand, needed a nap. I had barely closed my eyes when I was awakened by a knock on my door.

The woman smirking at my threshold with her arms crossed over her ample chest had to be well over sixty years old by now, but still looked on the younger half of her twenties. A seven pointed star was magically carved into her forehead with the image of a centaur twined about the tines.

"Madoly! I didn't realize you were in town." Glancing up at the centaur behind her, I offered him a small bow. "Greetings, Lamilon."

Although this was supposed to be a festival, the swift brown centaur carried a large oval shield and a spear as long as himself and his amber eyes were stern. "I understand you've been telling stories again."

Ignoring the implied threat, I waved them both inside. Like most houses on Klaus, the door and ceilings of my humble abode were built with centaurs in mind. "I didn't see you at the opening ceremony. When did you arrive? May I offer you some tea?"

"Our ship was late and thank you, no. We have no time," Madoly said. "I need you to talk to Devid."

"He should be off getting his first taste of alcohol with his herd-mates," I said. "I assume this will wait until tomorrow morning?"

"He said he didn't need to spend time getting to know the finalists, because he has already finished his selection and chosen his arcanist. I need you to talk him out of it."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Why? Is is selection that terrible?"

"He chose you."

----------------------------------------

Despite what felt like a short nap, it was sundown when I stepped outside with a stiff breeze blowing toward the water. By the time I found Devid, full darkness had settled and the breeze had stilled, waiting for morning to reverse direction.

He was alone on a small rise, well away from the festivities, with his arms out and down as if he could feel the flowers several feet below his palms, but his gaze was fixed upward, intently staring at the stars. The mehndi artwork which had adorned his torso and arms had smeared to the point that he just looked dirty. His long black hair was a tangled mess.

"It should rain in the next day or two," Devid muttered as I approached.

"Did the stars tell you that?" I asked with a bit of a chuckle.

"My skin tells me that." Devid said. "I stare at the stars to give my eyes something to do outside myself. When I close my eyes, my senses tend to focus inward, at my heartbeat and such."

"And your skin predicts rain?"

Devid nodded. "In the middle of the night, when the ocean breezes have stilled, I feel the air pushing on my skin and compare it to how it felt yesterday. When the weight of the air is higher, it tends to push storm clouds away. When the pressure of the air is low, it attracts rain. But you're not here to talk about the weather."

"You should be with your friends."

"Apiona, Exram and the others aren't my friends. And that is also not why you are here."

"I'm too old to be an arcanist, Devid. Within a few years of bonding, arcanists stop aging. That's why your arcanist should be a fifteen-year old, not someone whose skin is already wrinkly and old."

Devid signed and finally tore his gaze away from the sky, fixing me with those black eyes of his. "When a mystical creature bonds with a human, the arcanist shares their soul with their eldrin. In addition to the magical power which grows in both of us, in addition to me growing larger, and you not aging at all, having a human soul inside a soulless mystical creature means that the eldrin's thoughts and personality become more like their arcanist."

Devid swept his arm back toward the town. "I don't want to be like them, getting drunk for the first time, partying, charging into battle because I'm too stupid to realize I could die, and too unskilled to try other options. I want to learn new things, same as any centaur, but I don't want to change who I am to do it."

"Bonding with an old man might change who you are more strongly than a young one."

Devid shrugged. "Didn't you say my Trial was my choice? Don't you want to be an arcanist?"

"Everyone wants to be an arcanist, Devid, same as everyone wants to be rich." I started to pace, agitated despite myself. "But wishing for a pile of money isn't the same as sacrificing the rest of your life to make one. I don't deserve to be an arcanist."

"Breathe." Devid took a deep slow breath and I followed suit. "Again. Look at me."

"This is my Trial. My arcanist." he said, then added. "I decide if you are good enough for me. Not them. Or was all that a lie, earlier?"

"They'll never let me up on that stage for the final part of the bonding ceremony."

Devid held out his hand. "Then why wait?"