The Hell Whip took a deep breath and suddenly the bar sagged heavily into the muscles of her shoulders, causing her knees to flex before she straightened out once more with great effort.
“Keep going,” grunted Helminth, and with a deep breath, she slowly lowered herself into a crouch and rose smoothly once more to standing.
It was only then that Scorio saw the cracks radiating out from where she stood, the stone floor looking like a pane of glass that was about to shatter.
“I—right. I wanted, I mean, I believe I should have fair access to all the opportunities the Academy offers, including the chance to, ah, earn the patronage of the main Houses.”
Helminth took another deep breath and sank once more into a deep squat. Scorio found himself staring and she powered back up, her muscles straining, and half-turned to stare at a scroll hanging beside her office door.
“That’s it?” she asked, voice tight with effort. She wriggled her feet from side to side, as if settling herself into a better pose, and then the ground crackled under her feet as the rod pressed even deeper into her bunched-up trapezius muscles.
“No, I mean, I’d like to enter the loser’s bracket.” Scorio resisted the urge to cough into his fist. “I understand that we’re in the seventh round, and it doesn’t feel fair to ask to enter the winner’s group. I was hoping you might ask the current sixty-four if any of them would be willing to fight an extra round against me before their own bout, as both a chance to earn glory as well as, ah, afford me a chance to enter the running.”
His words hung in the air, and for a moment all he could do was stand there, staring at the wall scroll, listening to Helminth’s stertorous breathing as she labored under her bar.
With a gasp, she straightened one last time, and when Scorio risked a glance her way, he saw that the bar rested lightly on her shoulders once more. She lowered the bar onto the iron rods, ducked back out from under it, and turned to consider him, chest rising and falling once more due to the powerful effort. “The loser’s bracket, you say?” Her eyes gleamed, her lips curving into an amused grin. “How noble of you. Very considerate. But yes. Hera already spoke to me about your condition. Without this chance, you’re out of luck, aren’t you?”
Scorio stood a little straighter. “Yes, Instructor Helminth.”
“Yes, well.” She stepped over to a shelf, upon which dozens of small towels were folded in neat squares. “Given the fact that an Imperator sponsored your readmittance to the Academy, I think it only fair to give you a chance.” She shook out the towel and wiped the sweat from her face. “That and how you played a part in saving Bastion. You’ve earned a little leeway, and I’d wager a number of the students are itching to try their luck against you. So, yes.” She wiped the sweat from her brow and then stood there, towel pressed to the nape of her neck, considering him, her gaze flicking up and down.
Scorio held her gaze for a moment, then began to feel mildly uncomfortable under her appraisal. It was very direct.
“Thank you, Instructor,” he said after a beat. Had she been waiting for him to speak? “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“It’s only fair.” She dropped the towel on the circular table as she crossed the room to where a jug sat upon a sideboard. Poured herself a large cup of water, then turned back to him, leaning one hip against the sideboard, an arm crossed over her chest. “The fights are on Seventhday. That gives you five more days to prepare. I’d use them wisely if I were you, and not pass up any opportunities that present themselves.”
“Right, of course,” said Scorio, nodding sharply. “I’ll apply myself. Thank you again, Instructor.”
Helminth smiled against the lip of her cup. The silence drew out once more, and then her smile widened briefly in amusement, and she gestured with her other hand. “You’re welcome, Scorio. Dismissed.”
He bowed low, heart thumping, and hurried back through the reception chamber and out into the hallway. He closed the door and stood, frowning at nothing. After a moment, he took a deep, shuddering breath, then forced a smile. Success.
1
At breakfast the next morning, Scorio noticed the way the other Great Souls stared at him. He’d kept a low profile during the run, but even so, he kept catching subtle glances and even outright stares as he made his way to join his friends at the breakfast table, empty tray in hand.
“Don’t let it bother you,” Lianshi said, moving slowly down the steaming tables of delicacies and exquisitely cooked food. “You’ll quickly learn that even the sternest Great Soul is little more than an avid gossip at heart.”
“I say enjoy it,” said Leonis, dumping a fifth ladle of mashed root vegetables onto his plate. “Before you know it, Jova or Zala or Chen She will do something everyone’s thought impossible up till now, and you’ll be yesterday’s news.”
Scorio frowned down at his bowl of black honeyed beef soup, the nape of his neck prickling. “That sounds great to me. Can someone tell them to hurry up already?”
“Ignore them,” said Naomi brusquely, using a pair of silver tongs to help herself to a mountain of grilled meat in a gleaming orange sauce. “It’s the ones that ignore you that are worth paying attention to.”
“By that measurement, you’re the most important person here,” said Leonis, taking up a half-dozen breadsticks encrusted with glazed garlic and quickly stepping out of her reach. “Given that you refuse to even look at anyone else.”
Naomi scowled at him. “I’ll consider them when they prove worthy of the consideration.”
Taking their trays, they crossed the cavernous hall to their customary spot, a circular table set within a small alcove, the dusty skull of some ancient fiend presiding over their meal, its horned head jovially festooned with an equally ancient hat.
“So, Scorio, when will your entry to the tournament be announced?” asked Lianshi, scooting in beside him and filching a breadstick from Leonis’s tray.
“I don’t think it will be,” said Scorio. “At least, Helminth made it sound like it would just happen the day of, not before.”
Leonis reached out with a pair of slender eating sticks and snagged a grilled shrimp from Lianshi’s salad. “That’s better for you. More shock value. Helminth is proving surprisingly helpful in all this.”
“Nothing is freely given,” said Naomi, raising her bowl of noodle soup to her lips. “Look for the hidden dagger.”
“The hidden dagger? No offense, but someone spent too much time in the ruins,” said Leonis. “The real danger is Scorio’s disadvantages. He’s still just a Cinder, and with his Heart fractured, will have to go for a quick knockout. But it’ll be a short road, even if he wins his first bout. After all, Jova’s practically a Tomb Spark at this point and she’s not the only one eating treasures like grapes. Ah! Will you look at this feast? Carve the sight into your memories, my friends.” And he spread his arms to take in the whole of their table, which boasted almost a dozen bowls and platters of every kind of delicacy. “Are we not fortunate? Fed from the best that hell can offer, treated like royalty, and asked only that we work hard at that which we’re already passionate about?”
Naomi slurped her noodles noisily into her mouth, then wiped a napkin across her lips. “Didn’t you see the people we helped in Ward 3 last week?”
Leonis frowned. “Of course. And I lament their situation. But why should I suffer just because they’re going hungry? Should I starve and weaken myself because I’m fortunate?”
“No,” said Naomi. “Do what you please. But it feels wrong to be dining on…” And she reached over to his tray to lift a stick of candied rock crab as if it were an alien object. “… this kind of luxury when there are children out there begging for a crust of bread.”