Authors: Convergence
And not looking happy at all. That observation filled Valiant with guilt, since
he
was probably the source of her unhappiness. The older woman was undoubtedly the owner of the house, and the girl now expected to be exposed as a liar. She stood lost in thought while the older woman called the stableman over to her, probably expecting Valiant to say something that would embarrass her even more, just as he'd planned to.
Had
planned to, but no longer did. It would be enough if he and the girl were the only ones to know what had passed between them.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," the older woman said suddenly, pulling Valiant out of his stare. The stableman had already returned to his seat at the table, and Valiant hadn't even noticed.
"I'll begin by introducing myself to you," the woman continued, looking around at all of them with a smile. "I'm Lady Eltrina Razas, and I'll be your liaison to the testing authority. The first thing you must know is that you'll be expected to pay three silver dins a week if you intend to eat at this table—starting tonight. When I'm through speaking you'll go and fetch the silver, and then give it to me."
There wasn't quite a murmur at that, but Valiant thought it was only because none of them really knew each other. Sending people to live in a place after threatening their freedom, and then making them pay to eat! If Valiant had had any doubts about whether or not he wanted to continue associating with those
people, that
would have settled them.
"Another thing some of you will have to fetch is your identification as an applicant," the Lady Eltrina went on, now looking at them with a shade less friendliness. "You were told to wear it at all times, but half of you have come down here without it. From now on anyone appearing without identification will not be fed, even if he or she has already paid the necessary silver."
Now everyone looked around, to see that Mardimil, the beautiful woman next to him, the stableman, and Valiant himself no longer wore those chains and cards. Valiant had simply forgotten about his, but it looked like none of them would forget again. Score another direct hit on the possibility of a reasonable relationship with the people behind all this.
"As a final matter, you must all be ready just after luncheon tomorrow for the carriages which will come for you," Lady Eltrina said. "You will be taken to a tailoring shop which is familiar with our requirements, and there you will have fitted two outfits each for attending sessions in. The gentlemen will be given gray trousers and white shirts, and the ladies gray skirts and white blouses. You will also be expected to pay for the clothing, but a mere token rather than full price. If you use the shop afterwards to buy other, more usual clothing,
then
you'll pay full price. Now be so kind as to fetch the silver—and your identification, if necessary—so that I may leave you to your meal and the rest you undoubtedly crave."
It wasn't a happy group which rose from the table, but it also wasn't a slow-moving group. Everyone was obviously just as hungry as Valiant, and the only way to make the food start coming was to pay. Tomorrow Valiant would visit his family's bank and draw some gold, to replace what he would spend tonight and tomorrow at the tailor. He still had some silver left from what he'd been given at the start of the trip, but not all that much.
And as he watched the girl from the bath house leave the room along with everyone else, he finally had to admit that he owed her an apology. Warla had told him that the owner of the house was named Tamrissa Domon, and the older woman had called herself Eltrina Razas. That left his bathing companion as Tamrissa, especially since she'd also worn her identification. He'd finally noticed that as well, after spending most of his time staring at her face.
And that beautiful reddish-blond hair. . . .
Valiant sighed as he headed for the stairs along with everyone else. Tamrissa Domon attracted him in a way no other woman ever had, but he hadn't come to Gan Garee to find a woman. In point of fact he'd decided against ever becoming entangled with a woman again, and he'd be a fool to forget that. So he'd simply find an opportunity to apologize to her, and then he'd be polite but distant. That ought to please
her,
at any rate; she hadn't seemed to like him very much, which was actually a damned good thing.
But which would have been a better thing if it hadn't annoyed him so much. . . .
E
ighteen
Lorand was among the first to get back to the table after paying over his silver, but no one actually took their time. The hollowness inside him had to be present in everyone, even that pompous fool Mardimil. The "lord" had stopped to speak to the Razas woman on his way out of the dining room, but the conversation couldn't have lasted very long. Mardimil had returned only moments behind Lorand, and he didn't look the type to run.
But he seemed to be a lucky type, having been seated next to Jowi Hafford. Lorand wished he had the nerve to ask the man opposite to change seats with him, but they'd been assigned those seats and the man seemed to be as taken with Jowi as Lorand felt. But at least she'd smiled and nodded to him, which was more than she'd done with any of the other men there.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you," Eltrina Razas said at last, hefting the pouch she'd put the silver in. "Our business is concluded for the moment, so I wish you hearty appetites and a pleasant night. When I return, I'll have your session schedules. Warla will name each of you for the others, and then you'll be left to your own devices."
No one said anything to that, just the way they'd said nothing to any of her other comments. She wasn't only a
noble,
she was someone who could make a hard time for them with the testing people. And she'd hesitate not a heartbeat to do
it, that
had been clear from the first despite her smiles. Lorand meant to stay well out of her way, a decision he probably had a lot of company in making.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the names are as follows," the girl Warla said
,
sounding frightened to death rather than sure and confident the way Eltrina had. "At the head of the table is Tamrissa Domon, owner of this house. Beside her on her left
is
Lorand Coll, then Beldara Lant, then Valiant Ro, then Eskin Drowd, then Clarion Mardimil, then Jowi Hafford, then Pagin Holter. Please enjoy your meal."
Her curtsy was hurried and very self-conscious, and the Razas woman was amused when she followed Warla out of the room at a much more leisurely pace. Lorand heard a very faint "Finally!" along with a sigh from the girl who had been named Tamrissa Domon, so he smiled at her.
"I agree with that sentiment completely," he told her in a soft voice. "In case you missed it I'm Lorand Coll, and I can remember a time when I wasn't a mere shadow of my former self."
"I don't think I qualify for the term, 'mere shadow,'"
Tamrissa answered with a smile that made her even more beautiful than she was naturally. In fact she was just as beautiful as Jowi in a more innocent and open way, which made Lorand wonder where he'd gotten the nerve to speak to her,
"I still weigh too much to call myself a shadow, but completely empty is another matter entirely," the girl continued. "I was ready to eat as soon as I got back from the test, but at least the staff is beginning to serve now."
"I wonder what those sessions will be like," Lorand remarked, mostly to keep himself from noticing the bread and cheese and soup that hadn't quite reached the table yet. He would
no
t
make a pig of himself by immediately bolting down what was put in front of him
...
"I intend to pass whatever they throw at me just the way I did today, but I can't help wondering what that whatever will turn out to be."
"It can't be worse than what they did to us today, so I have very high hopes," Tamrissa answered, obviously keeping herself from staring at the incredibly good-smelling soup that had been ladled into the bowl which had been put in front of her. "I also intend to pass, no matter how hard they try to make me fail."
"I
will
pass," the red-haired girl to Lorand's left put in, joining the conversation as if she had every right to do so. "To say you 'intend' is to say you have doubts, and I have none. Since you heard my name you now know who I am, which certainly confirms what I said. I
will
be the Seated High, and nothing and no one can stop me."
"That's all yer after?" the man opposite Lorand, Pagin Holter by the name on his identification card, put in hesitantly. "Wouldn't mind havin' thet m'self, but only fer consalayshun.
It's
bein' part o'one a them challenger Blendin's I mean t'try fer, this bein' a twenty-fifth year 'n all.
Din't you folk r'member thet?"
Lorand thought the man had asked his question because of the way everyone was staring at him, even the people at the other end of the table. Holter was a small man and obviously far from the sort to push himself forward, but the fact that his voice had been hesitant hadn't stopped it from being deep and carrying. Everyone seemed to have frozen in the midst of whatever they'd been doing, shock or surprise showing on each of their faces.
"Yes, that's
right,
I'd forgotten it was a twenty-fifth year,"
Tamrissa said, apparently less affected by the announcement than Lorand and the rest. "Those of us who live in Gan Garee tend to be more aware of things like that, since the contests are always held here. I've heard they're really something to see, but as far as being a part of it goes . . . The winning Blending
rules
for twenty-five
years!"
Her tone of voice said she couldn't quite picture herself ruling at all, let alone for twenty-five years, and Lorand knew just how she felt. It was one thing to aspire to a High position, another thing entirely to try for the Fivefold Throne. There had been plays and books written about people who'd dreamed about that, and most of them were either comedies or tragedies.
"Of course, that explains everything," the red-haired girl to Lorand's left breathed, apparently having missed what Tamrissa had said. The girl looked as if she'd been struck with revelation, and a delightful one at that. "Now I understand why I qualified for testing
this
year rather than any other. I'm meant to be part of the winning Blending, to fulfill my full destiny and
rule."
"I'm afraid your destiny comes up a bit short for
that"
a voice drawled, and Lorand glanced around to see that it was the fool Mardimil who spoke. "All members of the current Blending are from the nobility, which you would know if you moved in the proper circles. As the members of most of the Blendings before them were also the same, you should have chosen your place of birth a bit more carefully. Destiny favors those with
all
the proper qualities."
"Obviously you're all too jealous to admit the truth," the girl said smugly, somehow managing to be even more annoying than Mardimil. "But now that I know what my purpose in life really is, I don't care how jealous you are. When I'm crowned as one of the new Blending, I may even forgive you."
And then the girl turned with a smile to her food, dismissing all the rest of the world as beneath her notice. Lorand exchanged a glance with Tamrissa, who wrinkled her nose in distaste and shook her head,
then
he began to pay attention to his own food. Even if he hadn't been so hungry, there was nothing left to say to the red-haired girl who thought so much of herself. The idea she'd latched onto was tempting, but only a fool would think about it seriously. . . .
Clarion was so hungry he all but inhaled what was put before him, barely even noticing that the house cook was more than adequate. He'd been prepared to eat anything at all, even lower-class food, just so long as it filled him.
And diverted him from that fool of a girl across the table.
To think that a female dressed in
cotton
would consider herself a possible candidate for the new Blending! She was as blind and empty-headed as the rest of her class—and seemed to match at least one member of his own class.
The memory of his conversation with Lady Eltrina still nettled, enough so that under other circumstances it would probably have ruined his appetite. As a courtesy he'd stopped to introduce himself, and then would have mentioned how inappropriate his current surroundings were. He'd expected a member of his own class to understand, possibly even without having to be told; what he hadn't expected was to be cut short before the first word might leave his mouth.