by Sharon Green
“Yesterday morning, after the testing, I decided I did,” she agreed, back to being glum. “It was probably a residual of all that power affecting me, but I made up my mind to at least try. That’s why I asked to speak to him last night after dinner, but now it looks like he’s changed his mind.”
“Infringing unfairly on one of our prerogatives,” Jovvi sympathized, feeling Tamma’s disappointment very clearly. “So what have you decided to do now? Forget about him after all?”
“I should, but I can’t seem to force myself to be that rational,” Tamma complained, most of her disturbance now aimed at herself. “I mean, how am I supposed to change a man’s mind once he’s made it up? I wouldn’t know where to begin, but something won’t let me drop the whole thing. He was so cold when he refused even to talk to me, but somehow I could feel pain behind the coldness.”
“And you aren’t capable of ignoring someone in pain,” Jovvi said gently, nodding her understanding. “I won’t try to tell you what to do, but I have a suggestion you might consider: think about this whole thing before you decide on a course of action. If you’re interested in nothing but easing a man in pain, getting him to change his mind again would be wrong. You have to be just as interested in a relationship as he is, otherwise you’ll simply end up hurting him more.”
“That sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in quite a while,” Tamma said ruefully. “That means I’m going to take your advice, so that takes care of my disturbance. Now what about yours?”
“Oh, mostly it’s the same old thing,” Jovvi forced herself to say, feeling the way her mind instantly closed in on itself. “I have walked away from Lorand, but I can’t stop thinking or worrying about him. Take this morning, for instance. I’m almost certain that we’ll be facing no more than an attempted measurement of our strength, but what if that guess is wrong? What will happen if Lorand finds it necessary to really stretch his ability—and can’t? Even if that doesn’t happen today, it could happen tomorrow, and I can’t bear to picture it.”
“So don’t picture it,” Tamma responded, sounding as if Jovvi had missed the most obvious solution to her problem. “If there’s nothing you can do to change something, what good does worrying about it do? Either you have to find a way to change the thing, the way I did with my parents, or you have to simply give up and accept whatever comes. I never thought I’d be saying this to you, Jovvi, but which route would you rather take?”
Tamma’s tone had been more diffident and apologetic than the words suggested, which helped to keep Jovvi’s indignation from being overwhelming. That was the sort of thing she was used to saying to Tamma, not something she needed to be told herself. Of course those were the two best options, but—
“But what could I possibly do to change things?” she complained aloud, feeling as though she and Tamma had switched places. “If it was easy—or even often possible—to help someone get around the fear of burnout, people would be doing it all the time. Holding his hand during testing wouldn’t work even if I were able to do it, so what else is there?”
“I have no idea,” Tamma answered with a small shrug, looking and sounding sympathetic. “If it were my problem I’d be frantic, so feel free to be the same.”
“But being frantic doesn’t solve anything, and I seem to be out of the habit,” Jovvi said with another sigh, fighting an urge toward depression. “I guess I’ll have to take my own advice and think about this, but in the meanwhile I owe you congratulations. You’ve grown to the point of discovering that other people’s problems are usually easier to solve than your own.”
“And you do have to understand their problem before you can do anything about it,” Tamma commented, now looking thoughtful. “That’s a good point to keep in mind, and definitely something else to think about. But for right now I did want to ask You agree with Rion, then, about what this first competition will be? Just an opportunity to measure exactly how strong each of us is?”
“It seems to be the most logical guess,” Jovvi agreed, tacitly joining Tamma in putting aside their personal problems. “I was specifically told that I would not be competing against anyone directly, only against their efforts. And they obviously want us trying our best, otherwise they would hardly be dangling that carrot.”
“The invitation to the reception,” Tamma said with a nod of understanding. “I wasn’t joking about how excited the idea of it made me feel, but that was last night. This morning I’m afraid I’ll do something horrible to embarrass myself if I go, so maybe I’d be best off staying home.”
“You could always come down with some ‘female problem,’” Jovvi pointed out with something of a smile. “That’s another of our rights, but it doesn’t say whether or not you’ve decided to try winning the competition. Personally, I’d like the option of whether or not to go to be mine.”
“Yes, so would I,” Tamma replied, instantly brightening. “And that ‘female trouble’ thing is another good idea. So it looks like I will be trying to win the competition, but not by too much of a lead. It won’t be easy to manage to just win, and I suppose that’s why I was thinking about not even trying. I was really tired yesterday and not at all interested in making the effort, and something of that carried over to this morning. But now I feel back to my usual self, so I’ll see what I can do.”
“I suspect that deliberately holding back will be harder for me to hide,” Jovvi said, having already thought about it. “With Spirit magic, you have access to a good deal of information about the people around you. If someone is frightened, or uninterested—or holding back—you can usually tell, so I’m going to have to project false emotions as well as gauge my response. I don’t expect it to be much fun, but there’s no doubt about its being necessary.”
“I wonder if they’ll have someone there at my competition who can tell things like that,” Tamma said, now sounding worried. “I wouldn’t put it past them, and I don’t know if I can fool someone like that.”
“That’s a good question,” Jovvi said with a frown she could feel, then took a moment to think about it before finally shaking her head. “No, chances are there won’t be anyone there with Spirit magic. We’re not expected to know that they might be trying to get rid of—or at least handicap—anyone capable of besting their noble participants, so it’s unlikely that they’d bother to check on whether or not we’re pretending about anything. They very well might have one of their strongest aspect participants there to measure us against, but not anything more.”
“I just thought of something else,” Tamma said, sudden disturbance straightening her in the seat. “We’ve been talking and thinking about a foot race, which seems to be a phrase used by all of our guides. But what if we’re actually required to perform one at a time, and we don’t get to go last? How will we know how much strength to use?”
“I hate to say it, but you’ve done it again,” Jovvi replied, quickly sharing Tamma’s disturbance. “I have no idea how we’d tell, but we’d better think of something fast. We’re already more than half way there.”
Tamma nodded with immediate distraction, so Jovvi immersed herself in her own thoughts. That foot race concept probably was a deliberate attempt at misdirection, leading them to expect one circumstance when an entirely different one awaited. Just how would it be possible to judge…?
By the time the coach began to slow for its first stop, Jovvi had to admit defeat. Nothing in the way of an idea had come to her, and looking at Tamma brought nothing but a shake of Tamma’s head.
“If there’s an answer, it seems to be avoiding me,” Tamma said dispiritedly. “Your expression tells me it’s doing the same with you, but that’s only faintly comforting. I’m about to get out, and I still don’t know what to do.”
“Personally, I intend to hope that we’re wrong,” Jovvi said with a wan smile. “I don’t expect the hoping to do any good, but doing something is always better than doing nothing.”
“A lot of help you turned out to be,” Tamma said, but her w
ry smile took the sting out of the words. “I gave up on hoping a long time ago, so I can’t even do that much. Well, it’s too late for that anyway. In just a few more minutes I’ll know, so all I can do is wish us both good luck.”
Jovvi returned the wish and then Tamma was gone, out of the coach and walking toward the Fire magic practice area. The coach started to move again, but the distance to Jovvi’s own area wasn’t long enough to be of any practical use. When the coach stopped again near the symbol for Spirit magic, she still hadn’t been visited with inspiration.
But that didn’t mean she could just sit there, so she got out after taking a deep breath and headed for the practice area. It wasn’t particularly early so Jovvi expected to see a good number of people at the tables, but the sight of the crowd stopped her in her tracks. There was more than twice the usual number of people present, and Genovir came from behind one group of them to glide over to where Jovvi stood.
“Quite a turnout, isn’t it?” Genovir said with a smile, glancing back at all the people. “Usually there’s very little interest left in watching low level competitions at this time of the year, but this year, of course, is different. Would you like some tea before we go to the competitions building? There’s time yet before the event is scheduled to begin.”
“No, I think I’ve had enough tea this morning,” Jovvi replied with a faint grimace. “Later will probably be another story, but What did you mean about this year being different. What’s different about it?”
“Why, the fact that it’s a twenty-fifth year, dear,” Genovir responded with a wide-eyed innocence that was completely false. She’d wanted Jovvi to ask about the comment, so Jovvi had obliged her. She also knew what reaction Genovir wanted to elicit, so Jovvi obliged her again.
“My goodness, I forgot all about that!” Jovvi exclaimed, showing what was hopefully a better version of innocence. “That means I’ll have to try even harder now, doesn’t it?”
“Just do your best, dear, and it’s sure to impress everyone,” Genovir counseled, hiding behind an air of gentle and benevolent amusement. “If you don’t want any tea, we can start for the building now.”
Jovvi nodded and followed after the larger woman, wondering if she was really supposed to have forgotten so soon about what had happened yesterday. Apparently Genovir considered the matter forgotten, or she wouldn’t have had the nerve to show herself today. Well, however it was supposed to go, Jovvi opened herself even more widely to her talent. It was hardly likely that the crowds contained many people who would be on her side, and Jovvi would need as much help against the other sort as she could get.
But then all thoughts of enemies disappeared behind a brand new experience, that of being aware of the people around her in depth. The emotions and reactions of those in the crowd were so clear that Jovvi felt she could reach out and touch them. But not in the partial way she’d used until now, something the drugged subjects in the exercises had almost made her believe was all there was. This … this was new and different, filled with a potential that was downright exciting.
“Don’t be shy or frightened, dear,” Genovir said suddenly, and Jovvi realized she’d stopped following the so-called Adept and had come to a complete halt. “But if you’ve changed your mind about the tea, I understand perfectly.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do,” Jovvi murmured in answer, knowing now how eager Genovir was to see her fail in some way. The woman both hated and feared Jovvi, but a blind arrogance that was an integral part of Genovir’s character made her believe that Jovvi couldn’t possibly see past her facade. Genovir would do her best to ruin Jovvi’s standing, and at the moment the way to do that seemed to be doing nothing at all.
“No, I haven’t changed my mind about the tea,” Jovvi continued, giving the woman a sweet, grateful smile. “Please go on, and this time I promise to keep up.”
“As you like,” Genovir agreed with a small shrug and a smile of her own before turning and continuing on. She still seemed convinced that Jovvi was afraid of what the coming competition would bring, and there was the very definite suggestion that she was supposed to soothe the fear. But Genovir was deliberately refraining from doing that, which did nothing to confirm Jovvi’s guesswork about what the competition was for.
But Genovir wasn’t very bright, Jovvi reminded herself as she followed the woman through the crowd. Part of Genovir’s mindless arrogance was the certain knowledge that no one would dare to harm her, not unless it happened to be by accident or reflex. She seemed to think that what Jovvi had done yesterday against her and Algus had been just such a reflex, and couldn’t possibly happen again. It wasn’t likely that Algus thought the same, which was probably why Algus was nowhere to be seen.
Then the awareness of Genovir slipped away as Jovvi became aware of the crowd instead. She’d wondered if all those people had been ordered to be there as decorations for a carefully set scene, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Most of them were there completely voluntarily, with something about betting behind their thoughts. But not betting that they meant to do today, with the upcoming competition. To them, this was more of a time of research and investigation…
Jovvi smiled faintly as she passed through the last of the crowd and onto the path which led to the large resin building she hadn’t yet been in. Those people in the crowd who were visitors were all of the nobility, and they obviously knew things that ordinary people didn’t. Like the fact that at least one someone would be rated today, a someone who would be involved in other, more important things later. But Genovir’s attitude still made everything uncertain. Was she withholding reassurance because she’d been told to do so, or because of vindictiveness? It made a considerable difference…
Genovir reached the large resin building and went through the open doorway without hesitation, simply glancing back to make sure that Jovvi still followed. Jovvi did, and when she also stepped inside it was to see one large, open floor without partitions or rooms. Six people stood in a loose group on the far side, people who were drugged and therefore meant to be subjects. Perhaps ten feet closer to the door was a thick white line painted on the floor, and no one but the subjects stood beyond that line.
Before it, though, were other groups of people. Jovvi knew at once that the vast majority of them were people who had Spirit magic, and some of them stood about chatting in the bright lamplight. Others stood there feeling extremely bored, while the members of the smallest group of all—two people—were definitely nervous.
“Ah, there you are, Genovir, and this must be Dama Hafford.” The voice belonged to a man who had approached them, a tall and thin man in his mid-thirties. “I am Adept Lomad, Dama Hafford, the one in charge of this competition. If you will kindly follow me, I’ll show you to your proper place.”
“Certainly,” Jovvi agreed with a smile for the man’s gracious bow, saying nothing about his claim of being an Adept. It had been immediately clear that Lomad was no more than a moderate Middle in strength, which meant he had to be a member of the nobility. As Jovvi followed him, she suddenly realized that these people were doing more than feeding their egos by calling themselves Adepts. They were also hiding the fact that they were used to being addressed by other titles, like lord and lady. Apparently the nobility wasn’t so oblivious to public opinion that they carelessly flaunted just how much of the competition process they actually controlled.
“There are ten participants competing today, and you, of course, are one of them,” Lomad said, slowing to walk beside Jovvi rather than in front of her. “Everyone is now here, so we’ll be starting in just a little while. Please have a seat among the other participants, and the rules of the competition will be explained to you shortly.”
By then they’d reached a place to the right where nine other people sat, with a tenth chair still unoccupied. Jovvi took that chair as Lomad had requested, finding herself mostly ignored by the seven people who were extremely bored. The remaining two were the two who were nervous, both of them men. They’
d looked at Jovvi in a calculating way, but for the most part dismissed her presence. They were male and she was female, so they saw her as nothing of a threat.
For her own part, Jovvi had made a discovery. The two men were, along with her, the only potential Highs in the building. She sensed a … depth of ability in the two that was missing in everyone else, and she probably wouldn’t have been able to reach through to them if they’d opened to the power. But they hadn’t opened themselves, undoubtedly because the competition hadn’t yet started, and they were as conditioned as everyone else against using their ability when they weren’t specifically supposed to.
Jovvi moved about just a little to settle herself in the rather uncomfortable wooden chair, finally appreciating just how uncontrolled she was in comparison to everyone else. It should have been beyond her to open to the power almost as soon as she arrived, but she hadn’t had the constant formal schooling that even the poorest children in their society were given. She’d had some before her father died, but after that she’d mostly spent her time on the streets. The lessons of her childhood, repeated many times every day in the classroom, had faded after a while to vaguely recalled memories.
And that seemed to have given Jovvi a definite edge. If there was ever a time to be completely aware of what went on around you, that was it. Those two potential Highs, though, had handicapped themselves by refraining from using their very potent power. For the first time Jovvi began to understand how Tamma had lived through two years of a brutal marriage without once using her ability to defend herself. The conditioning instilled in school was so strong that people could overcome it only by going insane.
Or by being told they were allowed to use their ability. Jovvi could vaguely remember that one exception, the power of it placed in the hands of those “in authority.” That was why those with strength enough survived that very first test, being “allowed” as it were, to use whatever they had. But what about those who couldn’t make that exception to the conditioning? Had potential Highs died because their minds were unable to accept the fact that it was perfectly all right for them to perform?
