“You are worthy,” said Scorio. “Are you kidding me? You forced a Dread Blaze to use one of his techniques on you. You were incredible.”
She looked up at him at last, eyes red between the thick strands of her hair. “You—you don’t understand, this was my chance, this was my chance. To show them, to show all of them…” She trailed away again in utter misery, tears welling up in her eyes and overflowing.
“You did. Were you expecting to beat him, Naomi?”
“Hurt him,” she said, voice thick with emotion, guttural. “Make him bleed.”
“That’s, ah, not a realistic expectation, I don’t think—”
“He mocked me!” Her cry was raw, loud, sudden. Jerking away from him, she glared with feverish intensity at Scorio. “He was one of them, Scorio! Who refused to train me, who said I wasn’t worth the time, that I wasn’t a true Great Soul! In front of a class just like that! He told me to go back to cleaning, and they laughed, they laughed at me as I walked out, so numb I felt like I wasn’t even a person anymore, I was so miserable I wanted to die—him, Scorio! And when I had a chance to prove him wrong?” Her face twisted in disgust as she stared down at her hands. “I didn’t even hit him, he just played with me, laughed at me, and then—and then he broke me down, humiliated me by forcing me to stop, to give up, till there was no way to fight him.”
“I mean, that’s his power, right? To slow opponents? He did it out of self-defense.”
“No,” she said, voice a low hiss. “I’ve never seen him do more than check his students with it. Ask Leonis and Lianshi. He saved his full power just for me.”
Scorio didn’t know what to say. She curled her arms about her shins again and lowered her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “If that’s true, then there’s only one thing we can do.”
“What’s that?” she asked, voice muffled.
“Get strong and kick his ass.”
She jerked her head up and frowned at him.
“I mean it,” he said with a grin. “He’s a Dread Blaze, sure, but it’s a big hell out there, right? Let’s do it together. Grow so strong that one day we can come back, and you can show him what you really think.”
She searched his face, looking so wretched and unsure of herself that Scorio felt his heart break. Finally, she gave him the slightest of nods. “All right,” she whispered. “Let’s do that.”
He put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her again. “We’ll get through this, yeah? We’ve both been screwed over through no fault of our own. The odds have been against us from the start. But here we are. Doesn’t matter if it’s fair or not, we’ll still make it all the way. You and me. Together.”
“Together,” she said, and put her hand upon his forearm, temple resting against his chest. “Yes.”
They sat thus for a spell until a gentle knock sounded at her door. “Guys?” It was Lianshi. “I can’t keep Leonis back for much longer. He’s raving about lunch. Do you want to come with, or should I bring you back some food?”
“We’re coming!” called out Scorio. He stood and looked at Naomi. “Right?”
She sniffed loudly, wiped her sleeve against her face, then sat up straight. “Right. Give me five minutes?”
“Take as long as you need,” he said, moving to the door. “But we’ll be gone in five.”
She gave him a deadpan look. “That makes no sense.”
“I try to make as little as possible,” he said. “It allows me to keep pushing through this world without allowing reality to get me down.” And even though he knew the joke was terrible, it allowed him to smile at her, and to elicit a slight smile from her in return.
Slipping into the common room, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it. Leonis and Lianshi were standing by the front door, hesitant and unsure. He gave them a nod of assurance, but deep within him burned a spark of unyielding rage.
Damn Feng, he thought, pushing off the door. Damn him to hell.
Chapter 46
Each end of the Mana Studies hallway disappeared into obscurity, its length punctuated by islands of pearlescent light in which a Great Soul student knelt. The air was cool, charged with power, and scented subtly with mint; Scorio sat cross-legged, waiting as he was bid, and studied the small altar before him.
It was identical to the others, lacquered crimson and elegantly carved, a broad shelf with a golden sphere under each corner to lift it a few inches from the floor. It featured ten indentations, in three of which were objects that could only be classified as treasures.
The first was a ragged shard of dark, stratified rock which gleamed in the light of the thick candle set at the rear of the tray. Faint smears of iridescence glistened on its flat planes, seeming to ooze without ever actually moving.
The second was a bundle of copper shavings, fastened by a twist of copper wire, standing erect upon its indentation so that it had the appearance of a fountain frozen in time. Whenever he looked away from it the shavings seemed to move as if stirred by a light wind, but would prove immobile the moment he snapped his gaze back.
The third was a squat cube of gray metal, ponderous and crudely formed, composed of small rectangular ingots melded together. Its surface was dull, and Scorio derived a sense of sullen strength from it, an obdurate and stubborn power that felt no need to sell itself.
Scorio could sense their potency even without summoning his Heart. His attention drifted from one to the next, and to his surprise, he found that each had its own appeal; the Iron for its formidable strength, the Copper for its motility and lightness, the Coal for its familiarity, and possibly consequent sense of rightness.
Instructor Hera had commanded him to do nothing but meditate till she returned, but Scorio found it impossible to focus. He surreptitiously studied the students to his left and right, who clearly knew what was expected of them. They sat with their eyes closed, backs straight, one hand extended, thumb crossed over the palm.
There was no sound, however; the entire hallway, despite housing some fifty students, was still; the very intensity of focus and mana manipulation taking place made the atmosphere feel ponderous and heavy, as if he sat at the bottom of an ocean, surrounded by gelid currents that pressed down upon him at all times.
Finally, Instructor Hera appeared, emerging silently from the darkness to sit cross-legged across from him on the other side of the altar. The candlelight caused her striking features to appear even more dramatic, a mask of shadows and raised, illuminated surfaces. Her presence, however, was calm, and under the weight of her regard he found himself settling, shoulders relaxing, breath slowing.
“This must have been a very stimulating day for you, Scorio,” she said, voice soft, hushed, intimate. “But now is the time to put away all your thoughts and questions, your hopes and fears, and focus on the single most important talent any Great Soul can hope to master: mana manipulation.”
He nodded eagerly while trying to make his expression severe and serious.
“You’re a Cinder, which means you’re no stranger to the basics. The fact that you managed to ignite your Heart while outside the Academy is truly impressive; I understand that Naomi assisted in this matter?”
A question, a rhetorical one, perhaps, but Scorio nodded again.
“Then tell me what you know of mana and your relationship to it. We have time, as I’ve an assistant walking the hall to help the other students if a need arises. Be thorough, consider your words, and don’t worry about the limits of your knowledge.”
Her words had remained gentle and warm throughout, a stark contrast to her exacting tones from that morning’s class, and Scorio felt a sense of confusion and wonder; how quickly he’d formed a judgment about her, created a silent narrative that explained her as a person. The woman seated before him could have been that teacher’s sister, related but utterly distinct.