“A world? A place with its own ecologies, rules, and internal logic? Sure.” Lianshi shifted her satchel strap higher up her shoulder. “But it doesn’t have to be actively aggressive to kill you.”
“The Curse,” said Scorio.
“The Curse. It alone will destroy Great Souls who venture too far.”
“Or elder powers like the Living Mountain,” said Scorio. “The, ah, what was the inferno creature called?”
“Cazador the All Burning. Wait till you learn about the Viridian Heart and its living empire, or the Dying Dreamer. That’s my favorite.” Lianshi clutched her tome tight across her chest. “I’d love to meet one of its white riders and defeat it in spoken combat, earn a life boon just like Blood Baroness Esme did in the song.”
“White riders?” asked Scorio, bemused.
“Yeah, you’ll get to it. They’re ghostly emanations from the Dying Dreamer himself, fragments of his shattered mind. He sits in despair, a doleful, absolutely massive giant who was once a king, in his rusted armor on his broken throne.” She paused and shook her head slowly. “It’s overwhelming, don’t you think, to realize that they’re all out there at this very moment? While we’re walking down this hallway, right now, the Winged Plinth is calling down storms, the Javalynx is stalking its next prey, Wan Elderlings haunt the mist-shrouded Vale of Regrets, the Omnicide decides the fate of hundreds of thousands in the Scorched Swale…”
Scorio laughed and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, when you put it that way. Though I’m more excited to see the Great Soul outposts and cities. Red Shoals, say, or one day even get to the Golden Star.”
“You’d need to join Endergrast’s sect to enter the Star,” said Lianshi, smiling in amusement.
“You kidding me? If a Crimson Earl asked me to join his legion, you think I’d say no?” Scorio laughed. “I’d take the suit of Enameled Armor and Browstar in a heartbeat.”
“You and everyone else,” said Lianshi. “Though sometimes—and don’t tell anyone I said this?”
“Sure,” said Scorio, stepping in a little closer.
“Sometimes I daydream about not questing for the Pit. Just… exploring. Going to areas where no Great Soul in living memory has ever been. Discover new wonders like the Shimmering Falls of Tranac, or the Forest of the Past.”
Lianshi curled a strand of hair behind her ear as she ducked her face, then glanced up at him anxiously. “Not that I don’t want to help, or fight for the cause, and all that, it just seems… sometimes the fixation on the Pit feels short-sighted.”
Scorio inhaled deeply, considering her words. “I mean, there’s more than one path to the Pit, right? Who’s to say ours won’t cross through new lands?”
Lianshi’s expression brightened. “True! But we might be getting ahead of ourselves. We’ve your tournament to get through first.”
“Yeah, and my Heart to heal.” Scorio sighed and shifted the weight of his satchel. “Thank you again, by the way.”
Lianshi hip-checked him with a laugh. “You don’t thank your friends for being your friends. That’s what they’re for.”
“You say that, but nobody ever said being friends meant going without sleep to get in extra training hours. I didn’t see that stipulated in the contract.”
“That’s because we gave you the toddler’s version with the letters written in brightly colored paint.” Lianshi’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “We were worried you’d panic if you saw too many words at once.”
“Ha,” said Scorio. “Funny. But I’m still going to thank you guys, no matter how much you protest.”
“Thank us by winning in two days’ time. And getting a House sponsorship quickly so we can go back to getting our sleep.”
“Sure,” said Scorio with a smile. “I’ll work on it.”
1
Tournament fights were held during First Rust on Seventhday. Enough time was given for the run and breakfast, and then it was understood that everyone would return to their rooms to prepare. Scorio ran at a slow jog, conserving his energy but relishing the warm-up. Five laps passed in a fugue as he reviewed the day’s importance, the moment to which he’d been training and honing his skills, in a sense, ever since he’d begun fighting for primacy.
“It’s an intense spectacle,” said Leonis, back in their rooms. He paused in the act of sweeping and leaned against the broom. “The closest I can compare it to is that first, huge room in the Gauntlet. That sense of space, of momentous consequence. I loved it.”
“Overwhelming,” said Lianshi from where she was straightening the cushions. “The sound, the scope. I mean—well. You’ll see soon enough.”
Naomi stood by the door, ready. “We don’t know whom you’ll be fighting, but remember you have the edge. They’ll fear you. They won’t know what is truth or fiction about your helping defeat Imogen. But they’ll know you received the official blessings of an Imperator, and that will throw them off-balance.”
“Off-balance, right,” said Scorio, windmilling his arms then stretching one across his chest.
“Which means you need to maintain that edge,” continued Naomi inexorably. “Don’t allow them to pigeonhole you. To believe they’ve figured you out. Keep them off-balance, then destroy them.”
Leonis resumed sweeping. “And Helminth didn’t tell you how she’d set this up?”
“Nothing,” said Scorio. “You don’t think she’ll change her mind, will you? Because of the whole Kuragin thing?”
“No,” said Leonis firmly. “That’s not her style. She’s very upfront.”
The lights pulsed gently over their front door, and Scorio took a deep, shaky breath. “That’s the signal. You guys ready?”
“No, I need to finish tidying,” said Leonis with a roguish smile. “Can you tell Helminth to put things on hold till I’m done?”
“You should just stay behind and finish up,” said Lianshi, rising smoothly. “Make sure we have an appropriately clean suite to celebrate in when we’re done.”
“Ha,” said Leonis dryly. “The Golden King cleans for no man!”
“I’m not a man,” said Lianshi, tapping him on the chest as she strode past him to the front door.
“Alas,” said Leonis. “I know. Otherwise, I’d feel no compunctions about hurling you into the pool.”
Lianshi slipped her feet into her sandals and turned to him, eyebrow raised. “Oh, remind me. Who was it that knocked you out of the tournament? Was it a man or a woman?”
“It was a beast,” grumbled Leonis. “A monster of primal power and unearthly rage.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Ramona that,” said Lianshi sweetly. “I’m sure she’ll want to ask some follow-up questions.”
“Scorio, throw me a line here!” cried Leonis.
Scorio tightened his belt and smiled tightly. “Apologies, Golden King. You’ll just drag me down with you.”
“I’m surrounded by jackals and carrion eaters,” said Leonis, opening the door. “Ah well. Such is my burden. The greater the soul, the heavier the load. Shall we?”
Naomi brushed past them all in silence.
“Hey, Naomi,” said Leonis, following her out. “When are you going to start the obligatory banter? You’re not carrying your weight here.”
Naomi’s eyes narrowed. “You defeat me in single combat, Leonis, and I’ll start bantering.”
“Huh.” Leonis stuck his thumbs into his belt. “Motivation. I might try just to hear your idea of a witticism. Let me guess, it’d be something like, ‘Dying men are attractive because they’re…’ Hmm. No— ‘The only thing unattractive about a dying man is the stench he leaves behind.’ Something like that?”
Naomi turned, stepped in close, and put her hand upon his chest. She gazed up into his startled eyes, her own half-lidded, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “You know me so well, King Leonis. How about we get together later, just you and me, and I’ll share my idea of a fun night out?”
Leonis paled and stepped back. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me, Emberling. I care only for serious studying and deep meditations.”