Convergence (The Blending Book 1)

by Sharon Green

  "You look like you enjoyed yourself, Mardimil," Coll commented as the young noble resumed his seat at the table. "If you died right now, it would take the burial people a week to get that smile off your face."

  "At the moment I feel as though the smile is a good deal more permanent than that," Mardimil replied with a small laugh as he reached for his cup of brew. "That girl was the most delightful creature I've ever encountered, and I couldn't seem to tear myself away. Perhaps I'll return a bit later, once I've restored my energies."

  Mardimil emptied the cup of brew down his throat, missing the amused glances Vallant exchanged with Coll and Holter. Which was a lucky thing, since he wouldn't have understood that their amusement was aimed at Drowd, who pretended to be too absorbed in the music and dancing to comment. To say Mardimil had been successful with the lady would have been to state the obvious, something Drowd clearly wasn't prepared to concede. It would have meant losing the butt of his nasty jokes, an end he'd apparently refused to accept.

  With all of them back at the table, the landlord Ginge sent a girl over to ask if they were ready to eat. The answer was a unanimous yes, so they were supplied with a thick vegetable soup, hot pork sandwiches on fresh, seeded bread, small salads, and generous wedges of apricot pie topped with clotted cream. Not quite two silver dins worth from each of them even with the brew and girls included, but Mardimil asked for and was freely given another sandwich and a pot of tea. The rest of them were told to ask if they decided on seconds as well, which meant Ginge was an openhanded host. He would definitely make a profit on them, but not at the expense of their good time.

  The meal put them all in a nicely mellow mood, and when a group of musicians came out to relieve the boy and his instrument they sang and clapped along with everyone else. The trio played the most popular tunes that were known all over the empire, but Vallant noticed that Mardimil didn't seem to know the words to any of them. He clapped and laughed and even hummed the refrains, but clearly didn't know any of the words. Maybe that was because of the mild drunk he was in the grip of, something that had been true even when he'd come downstairs.

  The evening wore on pleasantly, despite the fact that the tavern had long since become full. Most of the patrons seemed to be regulars, and most of them came over at one time or another to greet Holter. The little groom seemed pleased to see them, but even though he laughed and joked with them he made no effort to introduce them to Vallant and the others. After a while Vallant realized that was to keep from having to invite all those strangers to join them, which was very thoughtful on Holter's part. He'd brought them to the tavern so they might enjoy themselves in peace, not to go on display for gawking outsiders.

  Vallant heard himself think that, and couldn't hold back on a quiet snort of self-ridicule. Anyone coming over would be a gawking outsider, but he himself was part of the special inner group. Never mind that he knew where every door out of the tavern was located, but still had to fight feelings of confinement almost constantly. He was still one of them, and was obviously considered better than some. He found it ludicrous that even Mardimil, tipsy and innocent as he was, was still doing better than the dashing Vallant Ro. Maybe he ought to ask Mardimil for lessons…

  That thought pushed Vallant back down into depression, a state which perversely kept him from getting anywhere near as drunk as he would have liked. Why depression kept him sober was a question he'd never been able to answer, but that didn't stop it from being true. He didn't even notice when the trio of musicians paused to take a rest, and no one came forward to replace them.

  But he did notice when the half-dozen customers at one of the tables began to loudly demand that the music start up again. The six seemed to be relative strangers to the tavern, sitting apart from everyone else and doing nothing in the way of exchanging greetings the way most of the other patrons had. They were all dressed in rough trousers and shirts and coats, looking not only well-worn but dirty. That description fit both them and their clothes, and their manners were a perfect match.

  "Just keep yer shirts on," the landlord Ginge called from behind the bar when their noise refused to stop. "They'll be back after they get a bite t'eat and swaller some brew, so jest-"

  "We ain't payin' fer them t'have a good time," one of the six interrupted Ginge in a loud, belligerent voice. "We's here fer our own good time, so you c'n jest get 'm back out an' playin' like they's supposta be doin'."

  "They'll be back when they's done," Ginge tried again, obviously working to hold his temper. "You all got full cups t'hold yer interest while yer waitin', so-"

  "No!" the same man shouted, wobbling to his feet. "This stinkin' brew needs all th' help it c'n get, so you haul them three on out here! 'R mebbe you'd like us t'do sum entertainin'."

  With that he took his cup and hurled it across the room, wetting everyone it passed and landing on a table to spill the two cups sitting on it. People all over began to come to their feet with a roar, and that seemed to be what the six were waiting for. The five still seated jumped up whooping and laughing, and a moment later a melee was in progress. Small bits of sand and wood shavings flew everywhere, small clusters of flames tried to set everything on fire, small gouts of water turned everything they touched soggy, and small winds blew the various messes directly in men's faces. Ginge and his people dropped everything and tried to break it up, but after a moment it was clear they didn't have a hope of accomplishing it.

  "I'm gonna help Ginge," Holter said over the shouts and bellows, looking around at the rest of them. "If'n any a you feels like doin' th' same, it would shorely be 'preciated."

  That was because more and more of the patrons were being drawn into the free-for-all, Vallant knew. He'd seen the same any number of times before, the exercising of ordinary talents in a way that was designed to let the combatants neutralize an opponent to a certain extent before the fight turned physical. The six who had started it all looked to be really practiced in the technique, which meant the landlord and his people needed all the help they could get.

  "I'm with you," Vallant said as Holter began to turn away. "But before we start anythin', let's see how much more help we've got."

  Coll nodded immediately when Vallant looked at him, and Mardimil apparently took Coll's willingness as a signal to add his own. They all then turned to look at Drowd, but the academician had somehow left the table without their noticing. Where he'd gone was something they didn't have the time to wonder about, not when the fight was already beginning to go physical.

  "Let's work this together," Vallant said quickly, addressing the other three. "Mardimil - do you think you can use air to circle and separate out the six who started this? Good, because that's the most important part. Next comes surroundin' them with wood shavin's which Coll will do - to let the other patrons know somethin' is happenin' - and last but not least will come Holter's and my contribution. Let's get started."

  Mardimil raised his brows, obviously wondering what Vallant meant to do, but then he shrugged and turned to look at the six main rioters. He'd apparently decided that he'd find out Vallant's intentions soon enough, and got down to doing his part. Vallant watched with a good deal of satisfaction as the six troublemakers were suddenly and forcefully separated from everyone else, most probably thinking some invisible giant was to blame. That was pretty much the way it looked, with the defenders being shoved back away from the six, and the six themselves pushed together. Vallant had never before seen a High practitioner of Air magic work, but knew he was certainly seeing one now…

  Once the separation was complete, Coll took his turn with Earth magic. Not only did he use almost every wood shaving on the tavern's floor to surround the men, he also seemed to have used them to separate each of the six from the others. Again, the amount of strength and control necessary to do that was impressive, but since it was now Vallant's turn he left being impressed for some other time.

  Instead he opened to his own magic, and brought down the coldest most chill water he could reach
that was still liquid. Holter chuckled as he followed suit, obviously having waited to see what Vallant had in mind. Together they gave the six men the coldest baths they could ever have had, ignoring the men's howls while they made sure none of the icy deluge ran off onto the tavern's floor. If the six had started that trouble because they were drunk, the treatment they were now getting ought to sober them up to the point of peacefulness again.

  Once each of the six had been thoroughly doused, Vallant returned the water to the upper skies. When Holter followed his example, Vallant was then able to signal Coll to release the wood shavings. As soon as the shavings had settled back in place Mardimil withdrew the fence of air, and they were able to look at the six again.

  The men stood shivering and white-faced, obviously scared sober and calm, which was what they'd been trying to accomplish. When all six broke and ran for the door, fighting each other to scramble through, Vallant joined Coll, Mardimil, and Holter in laughing uproariously.

  The laughter felt good, but suddenly it came to Vallant that they were the only ones in the large room laughing. Everyone else, patrons, servants, workers - and Ginge - stood and stared as though looking at ghosts. The laughter trailed off as one by one Vallant's companions noticed the same thing he had. The six men who had run out had been terrified, and the ones who remained weren't far from being the same.

  "Whut's wrong with th' buncha you?" Holter suddenly demanded into the thickened silence, looking around from face to face. "You sayin' you wanted them bungers t'tear this place apart? Since we got it stopped, you oughta be thankin' us."

  "We do thank you," Ginge said after a long hesitation, during which no one seemed to move except for the requirements of breathing. "Leastways I thank you, this bein' my place 'n all. It's jest … I ain't never seen nothin' like that, or felt it neither. The power you used t'bring that there water down … both a you … it felt like a pair a kicks from a giant! How d'you pull in that much, an' why ain't you all burned up 'cause you did?"

  "An' whut you gonna do wiv it next?" a voice whispered from somewhere, a man's voice trembling like a frightened girl's. That seemed to be the question bothering everyone there, even though they all surely knew the law. Using the power to harm someone usually got you sent to the Deep Caverns - but only if you weren't really strong. It was unheard of for a High to be condemned, and the whispers claimed that that was so no matter what they did. Vallant had heard - and believed - the whispers himself, so their next move was obvious.

  "I think it's time we thanked you for your hospitality and said good night," Vallant announced as he rose to his feet, trying to keep his tone light and friendly. "This is surely the best tavern in Gan Garee, and I believe I also speak for my friends when I give you thanks for makin' us welcome here. We'll remember our visit fondly."

  By then the others had also gotten to their feet, so Vallant led the way to the door. Men stepped back out of their path without saying a word, and every face showed the same trembling uncertainty. Were they serious about going without harming anyone, or would they suddenly turn around and lash out with furious anger behind the monstrous power they controlled? No one seemed to know, possibly not even when they were all outside and had pulled the door to behind them.

  "I never expected anyone to look at me like that," Coll said after a moment, sounding somewhat shaken himself. "They were afraid of us, but all we did was help them. Why would that make them afraid?"

  "Probably because they've never known anyone even as strong as a Middle," Vallant offered when the others remained silent. "I never knew a Middle, not personally, and I remember agreein' with people that you just can't trust the ones with real power. Since I wasn't into showin' off, no one really understood how strong I was. That made me one of them rather than one of the faceless group with power, and I never saw myself any other way. Now…"

  Now he and the others had suddenly had the ground cut out from under their feet, changing their stance in a way that would never let them go back to what they'd been. Realizing that made Vallant feel horribly lonely, and led to another disturbing question: he'd been hoping that something would happen to let him go home, but could he go back? If his own family ever looked at him the way those people in the tavern had…

  "We better get th' coach an' go back to th' house," Holter said in a defeated voice, giving Vallant the impression that the small man had already been barred from ever going home again. "Wouldn't want Ginge t'look out an' find us standin' here, not after how nice he wus t'us…"

  No one seemed willing or able to argue that, so they began to trudge along the street toward the stable where the coach was supposed to be. For an outing that had started out so well, the only way it could have ended worse would have been to have guardsmen witness their performance.

  Vallant had finally remembered something the others had clearly also forgotten, certainly because of all the brew they'd had. Individuals might be sent to the Deep Caverns for using their ability to harm others, but those of different aspects who tried to act together were summarily executed. Vallant and the others hadn't exactly acted together and all five aspects hadn't been represented, but the fine point of difference wasn't one Vallant would have enjoyed arguing before a court. Not when they weren't yet Highs, just a handful of hopefuls…

  "That reminds me," Vallant said suddenly as they approached the stable entrance. "Drowd is still missin'. If he hasn't already come out ahead of us, we'll have to send the driver back to the tavern to look for him."

  The others muttered something in agreement without looking overly concerned, and Vallant couldn't blame them. A man like Drowd was usually popular, but only because those flocking around him were afraid of what he might say about them if they weren't his friend. With no one in their group willing to hear barbs against any of the others, Drowd's popularity had taken a severe beating. If he ended up gone for good, it was unlikely that anyone but the testing authority would be upset.

  The large stable doors stood open with a small amount of lamplight pouring a short way out into the dark. Just inside, to the left, in a space about three stalls wide and deep, was a sitting area fixed up by and for the stablemen. Old, mismatched wooden chairs stood around a splintery wooden table with almost all of its finish gone. A large stable lantern illuminated the area, showing an old man and two boys along with their driver, all four sipping brew from battered cups and smoking pipes. When their driver saw them he rose to his feet, murmured something which the old man nodded to with a cackle, then proceeded to empty his pipe.

  "Thought ya might be along soon, so I had th' horses hitched t'th' coach," he drawled as he made sure the dottle hadn't a single spark left to it. "That other 'un, he tried t'tell me you wusn't comin' out t'night atall, so I oughta take him back alone. Got mad when I said I'd wait some t'be sure, an' now here you all is. Sure glad I waited."

  All that was said without looking at Vallant or any of the others, and then the man ambled back into the stable proper to get the coach. He used a small glow in the palm of his hand to light his way, one that wasn't likely to frighten any of the horses.

  "And you were worried about Drowd," Coll said to Vallant, his air of disgust clearly aimed at the academician. "The man was ready to abandon us here, without even knowing whether or not someone would call the guard down on us. We ought to ask them to put him in a different residence."

  "They won't agree," Mardimil said, still showing a bit of that dreamy air that suggested he hadn't yet thrown off the effects of the brew. "Since they don't yet know which of us will win High positions, they won't take the chance of really offending any of us. And I meant to ask: why did we have to leave so early?"

  "I'll explain it all tomorrow," Coll told him, which made Mardimil smile and nod agreeably. Vallant thought it was a shame that they couldn't keep Mardimil permanently drunk. He wasn't nearly as pleasant when he was sober…

  Their driver brought the coach forward to where they could board without worrying what they might be stepping into befo
re stepping into the coach. A shadowy figure already sat inside in one corner, but that presented no problem at all. Holter wordlessly climbed to the box beside the driver where he'd sat on the way there, leaving just enough room inside for the others.

  "Well, I'm very relieved to see you all again," Drowd said in an uneven voice once everyone was settled and the coach had begun to move. "Would you believe that that fool of a driver wanted to take me back alone, leaving the rest of you here? I refused to allow it, of course, and stayed in the coach to be certain he didn't leave with it anyway. We should all report the man tomorrow, to be certain he isn't used again."

  Vallant simply looked out his window without replying, leaving it to the others to tell the man what they thought of him. When the others also remained silent, Vallant smiled faintly into the darkness. Drowd would have no idea whether or not they believed him, and that would turn out to be worse for him than simply being told off. Maybe tomorrow one of them would get around to telling him what they thought of him, but right now the pain was still too fresh and intense. As if by the stroke of some magic wand, they had all suddenly become outcasts! Even if he found a way to go home, wouldn't people take to pointing at him and whispering among themselves? They hadn't yet realized how different he was before he left, but now, after they'd had a chance to think about it…

  Vallant sat staring out the window at the dark streets of a dozing city, the tears in his eyes blurring the scene's details but matching the light rain which had started. He hadn't cried since the time he was very young and probably wouldn't be crying now if he hadn't had so much brew. But he had had the brew, and the pangs of loneliness and homesickness were very strong and painful. Never to go home again … how were you supposed to think about that without crying?

  Vallant felt very small and very helpless and alone, almost the way he'd felt once before in his life. Back then he had been small and helpless, and he'd been certain things would have been different if he'd been a grown man. Well he was a grown man now, and things certainly were different … so different he almost couldn't stand it…