Convergence (The Blending Book 1)

by Sharon Green

  "This is Fellar, and he'll take you to where you have to go," the man behind the table said. "Give them that set of papers when you get there, and they'll tell you what to do next."

  "You're repeating yourself," Clarion commented in as offhand a manner as he could manage while turning away from the man. "That's one of the first signs of old age, I'm told. Do have a nice day."

  And with that he walked off after the man Fellar, who was already heading for the far side of the building. Nothing in the way of a countering comment was shouted after him, which made Clarion feel inexplicably good. He'd never before found it possible to use that smooth but distant and superior tone he admired so much, but this time it had come flowing out as if he'd used it all his life. The general situation was still intolerable, but apparently even the intolerable had its bright side.

  Fellar moved at a brisk pace ahead of Clarion, but Clarion made no effort to hurry and catch up as he might have done earlier. He'd gotten to Gan Garee completely on his own without the least difficulty, and soon he would be free of these stupid people and their nonsensical requirements. With that in view he had no reason to put himself out hurrying after some nobody who was there for no other reason than to guide him. If the man found himself too far ahead of Clarion, he'd have to stop and wait.

  Which was exactly what happened. Clarion reached the archway in the far side of the building which Fellar had disappeared through a pair of moments earlier, and stepped through himself to find the man waiting only a short distance ahead on the stone approach. Beyond him was a wide circle of rather large, odd buildings, and it took Clarion a moment to realize they were made of resin. Why that would be so he had no idea, but it wasn't possible to ask about them. That foolish guide had taken off again, and all Clarion could do was follow.

  The man Fellar circled to the left, and eventually stopped in front of one of the buildings. Clarion strolled up to it a moment later, ignoring the fleeting expression of annoyance on the man's face.

  "This is where you hafta go," Fellar said, jerking a thumb at the building before holding out his hand. He was obviously asking for a tip, something not quite unexpected. Clarion smiled faintly as he handed over the two coppers he'd already taken out of his pocket, then he entered the building without a backward glance.

  The symbol for Air magic had been next to the door on the outside of the building, but the first inner room was perfectly ordinary. Soft lamps lit cream-white walls of resin, garish hangings covered various doorways, and another table held another man sitting behind it. This man was fractionally younger than the one in the other building, and he looked up at Clarion with a neutral smile.

  "I was told these are to be given to you," Clarion said as he handed over the small sheaf of papers he'd been carrying. "Now I'd like to be told how soon I'll be free to go home for a bit of long-denied rest."

  "All in good time, sir," the man soothed as he checked through the papers, his attitude more mollifying than dismissive. "There's just another question or two to be answered, and then you'll be finished. If you'll step through that doorway all the way to your right, they'll show you to a room where you can sit down for awhile."

  Arguing would have been a waste of time, so Clarion swallowed his annoyance and simply walked to the indicated doorway. He stepped through to find three people in an alcove to the left, two women and a man. All three rose to their feet at his appearance, and the man stepped forward.

  "Follow me, please," he said, then began to lead the way up the hall they stood in. But at least this new guide moved slowly enough to be followed easily and looked back to be sure his charge was with him, so again Clarion made no protest. He followed the man while the two women followed him, and in a moment they reached a closed door.

  "Just make yourself as comfortable as possible in here, and we'll be right with you," the man said, pushing open the door with very little effort. Clarion sniffed to show his displeasure, but still stepped inside to look around. A bare room of resin it was, lit by lamps hidden behind windows of clear resin high in the walls, with no furniture but a single low stool. Clarion turned to demand what sort of joke that was supposed to be, but the man was gone behind the door which had silently closed.

  "This is far too much," Clarion muttered in instantly increased annoyance. His limit for accepting the unacceptable had now been reached, and he would stand for no more. He stepped back to the door, intending to throw it open and march out to confront the fools, but there was nothing on the inside of the door to grasp. And it was closed so tightly the fitting of door and jamb seemed almost seamless, giving Clarion the fleeting impression it was also sealed.

  "What is going on here?" he demanded aloud, turning back to the rest of the room to confirm his impression that there was no other door. His question had been rhetorical, but a moment later he got an answer anyway. A scraping noise from above made him look up to see that a small door had been opened in the wall well above his head, and the man who had led him to that room now looked out.

  "Your first and possibly last test is now before you," the man told him solemnly."You must find a way out of the dilemma you will soon be presented with, otherwise you will die. Only you can save yourself, and if you don't accomplish it, no one will do it for you. Good luck or goodbye."

  Clarion was so appalled, the man had pulled back and pushed closed the small door before Clarion had gathered his wits together enough to speak. By then it was too late, of course, but that didn't seem to matter much. Any demand for further explanations would probably have been ignored, and even if they'd been given, Clarion would certainly have had trouble understanding. Never before had his life been threatened, and he couldn't believe it was happening now. The man must have been joking, if not simply lying…

  But that was when Clarion became aware of something else that had never happened. The air in the room… Although he no longer consciously noticed it, he was always aware of the air in any place he happened to be. The pressure and shape of it changed according to the elevation of the place where it was, but the volume of it had never varied. Now… Now the volume in that room was changing and lowering, as if someone or something slowly drew out the air and refused to allow it to flow back in. If something wasn't done, he would eventually lack enough to breathe!

  The shock of that reached Clarion more directly than any words could have. The man hadn't been joking or lying; Clarion's life was in danger! His skill was with Air magic, but if someone didn't do something quickly, he'd have nothing left to work magic with.

  No, not someone, me, Clarion thought with fear clutching at his heart. He took off his hat, intending to put it carefully on the stool, but simply dropped it to the floor instead. He was faced with the need to save himself, and the preservation of a hat came a long way down the list of what had to be done first. But what could he do? What was there to do?

  The answer to that came quickly, as though part of his mind had waited all his life to begin functioning. The first thing he had to do was keep from losing any more air, and stretching out the fingers of his ability soon found the place where the air was being drawn out. He thickened the air at that point to keep it from flowing through the set of tiny holes in the wall, and the stratagem worked perfectly. No more air was drawn out through those holes, but that was when he became aware of the second set.

  A number of frantic minutes went by while Clarion located one set of holes after the other, and once he'd found them all, the fright began to touch him again. There were almost a dozen sets, and if he took his attention from any of them, he would begin to lose air again. Which meant he had to keep them sealed, but he also had to have enough of his ability free to search for a way out of that room.

  It had become perfectly clear that only his talent would get him out that horrible situation, so he had to do two things at once. Or maybe three. Clarion wiped at the sweat on his brow with the back of his hand, suddenly aware of how hard he was breathing. The air around him had grown just a little too thin for h
is lungs to work without effort, so he'd have to bring down what air there was up near the ceiling. It did him no good there, but gathering it closer to his face produced even more sweat. He now worked harder than he ever had in his life, but it still wasn't enough.

  For he still had no way out of that place, except for the wild idea he'd gotten in passing. The small door his guide to the room had looked out of; it had closed inwardly, so it ought to be possible to push it open from his side. The only problem with that idea was how high the small door was, more than six feet higher than the top of his head. Standing on the stool would be a waste of time, but what else could he stand on?

  And how long would it be before his strength gave out, bringing an abrupt end to his life? Clarion tangled his fingers in his hair, feeling the fear inside him grow stronger. He had to find a way out of there, but how? How? How…?

  CHAPTER NINE

  I was given a very early appointment at the testing center, just past daybreak, in fact, but that wasn't a problem. I didn't get much sleep the night before anyway, and finally gave up trying. Getting up and dressed and simply waiting while everyone else slept was much easier, and had the benefit of letting me be sure I wouldn't end up late.

  I had no real appetite for breakfast but I ate it anyway, stuffing down every last crumb without tasting any of it. I'd heard that the first test would be the hardest, and applicants needed all their strength to pass it. I had to pass it, and was prepared to do anything I had to to make that happen.

  And I'd also picked up a very interesting point. Housing in Gan Garee is usually difficult to find for transients, but right now, with so many competitors around, it had become impossible. For that reason, any large residence that took in applicants as roomers during this time of testing enjoyed a very special status, like being immune to court actions which would change its ownership. I'd registered my house for that purpose just the day before, and now should be able to concentrate on the test without being distracted.

  Should be able to. I sighed at that thought as the public carriage took me toward the testing center, the city just beginning to wake up all around us. At the moment all I could concentrate on was the knot of fear in my middle, which twisted and tightened with every breath I took. My life and sanity depended on my passing that test, and determination isn't quite the same as confidence.

  I'd been given a small card along with the appointment time and that card got me past the guards and through the outer wall. I'd heard that people of lesser ability were always trying to sneak in to take one of the tests, most of them being convinced that their evaluations had been wrong and they did have the potential to reach High if only they were given the chance to try. I could understand that outlook all too easily, but although I sympathized with those poor unfortunates I didn't think much of their intelligence. Even marginal talents were sent for testing, just to be on the safe side, so misevaluations weren't very likely.

  There weren't many people around at that early hour of the morning, and the coolness of the air made me glad I wore a long-sleeved dress. I'd been directed to a particular archway into the building, and when I stepped through it I saw a man to the right, sitting behind a table. Even as I watched he patted back a yawn, and I knew exactly how he felt.

  "Good morning, young lady," he said pleasantly enough when I stopped in front of his table. "Since you're here this early you must live in the city, so I'll ask for your appointment card rather than your ticket stub."

  "Don't applicants from the provinces ever get here this early?" I asked as I handed over the card, trying to divert myself just a little. If I didn't calm down, I'd probably end up exploding.

  "Applicants from the provinces have their journeys here timed very carefully," he answered, digging through a box of papers before pulling out a set of them. "They arrive sometime between just before noon and midafternoon, and they're brought directly here. No sense in turning 'em loose in the city to get into mischief before they have the chance to test."

  He flashed me another neutral smile, then gave all his attention to writing on a larger card than the one I'd given. He was being very polite and pleasantly distant, but I knew it wasn't simply good manners making him act like that. The people who came here to test for High were all strong Middles, meaning they were nobody you wanted to get angry at you. It might be against the law for us to use our talents against ordinary people, but that doesn't mean it never happens. If a drowned body is pulled out of the bay, it's almost impossible for the investigators to determine if that person drowned in the bay, or because of someone with a Water talent.

  And then there was the matter of the tests. No one knew in advance who would or would not pass, and insulting an applicant could turn out to mean having insulted a High. At that point the man who did the insulting would certainly be out of a job, and possibly even finding it difficult to get another. Those who claim gold and silver mean nothing have never been in the position of needing to support a family, otherwise they would have learned better.

  "All right, here you are," the man behind the table said, recapturing my attention. "This is your identification as an applicant, and you must wear it at all times. You have a number of stops to make throughout this building, and then you'll be taken to the place you have to go. Don't lose these papers, since you'll need to show them at all the stops."

  By then I'd slipped the chain attached to the card over my head, so I accepted the set of papers as a woman came up to the table. I'd seen the man gesture the woman over, so she had to be the one who would show me where to go. She touched my arm before heading toward a stairway, proving my theory, so I quickly followed along.

  The stairs were made of the same stone as the building, and we climbed quite a few of them before reaching the second floor. I would have asked my guide about where we were going and how long the stop would take, but she moved just far enough ahead of me to make conversation awkward. She also had no trouble using both hands to raise her skirt high enough to avoid stepping on it, but one of my hands was full of papers. Also using it to hold up my skirt took concentration, which worked even more against getting involved in talk.

  At the top of the stairs the woman turned left, walked a short distance to a door also on the left, then opened it and went through. When I followed I found myself in a small room with a man behind a table, a row of plain wooden chairs and two closed doors behind the man and his table. My guide waited until I was inside then silently left, closing the door behind herself.

  "Please have a seat," the man behind the table said with no more than a glance for me. "Someone will be with you as quickly as possible."

  After that he went back to being engrossed in whatever work he was doing, so I had no choice but to do as he'd said. I chose a chair and sat in it, but it had to be one of the most uncomfortable chairs I'd ever experienced. It had none of the padding it so badly needed, its seat slanted at an odd angle, and its height was wrong for a chair. I didn't know how long a wait I had in front of me, but even five minutes would have been too long in that chair.

  A lot more than five minutes went past, during which time I tried two others of the line of chairs. Each of them turned out to be uncomfortable in a different way, and that fact upset me more than it should have. I had just about worked myself up to asking how much longer it would be, when a man came in the same door I'd used to enter. He also wore an identity card on a chain around his neck, and the man behind the table looked up at him.

  "Please have a seat," he said in exactly the same tone he'd used earlier. "Someone will be with you as quickly as possible. And you may now follow me, ma'am."

  The relief was exquisite when I rose to my feet and followed the man to the righthand door behind his table. He opened it to allow me through, then closed it behind me without entering the room. It was smaller than the first, and only another man behind another table without any other chairs was in sight.

  "Good morning, ma'am," this new man said with another of those pleasant but neut
ral smiles. "Your papers, please." I handed over the set of papers, then stood there while the man read every word written on them. When he was through, he looked up with the same sort of smile.

  "Everything appears to be in order," he said, handing the papers back. "You may now go through that door to room twenty-two, which is your next stop."

  The thought that my next stop might well be the test itself kept me silent until I'd walked out the indicated door, and then I was occupied with finding room twenty-two. It turned out to be on the other side of the building, but when I opened the door I saw an exact copy of the outer room I'd so recently left.

  "Please have a seat," the woman behind the table said to me. "Someone will be with you as soon as possible. And now you may follow me, sir."

  The man with the applicant's identity card got immediately to his feet and followed the woman, then went through the door she opened. Once he was through she closed the door, went back to sit behind her table, and was immediately immersed in her work again.

  "All right, tell me the truth," I said from where I stood, knowing the line of chairs would be just like the first group. "How long will I have to keep doing this, and why do I have to do it? You can't tell me it isn't pointless."

  I knew the woman heard every word I'd said, but she let a moment go by before she looked up from her "work."

  "Please have a seat," she said in exactly the way she'd said it before. "Someone will be with you as soon as possible."