“Of course,” said Scorio, confused.
“Very well,” said Gelegos, not bothering to explain. “I’ve found that it helps for you to close your eyes and focus on your Heart instead of watching the crystal. Let us begin.”
Scorio did as he was bid, summoning his Heart and closing his eyes, so that it sprang into being before him, malformed after the burn-off, and hovering amidst scintillating clouds of copper and iron.
Was he doing well? Would they take him if they thought his Heart too damaged? That he’d cost them too many resources? If so, his only chance at changing their mind was by impressing them with the depth of his Heart, his ability to take on mana beyond anything they had ever seen.
Spiraling black Coal mana suddenly flooded into his senses, flowing out of the cup that he’d pressed to his chest and swirling around his Heart. Scorio took a deep breath, summoned his will, and visualized his trusty, broad paddle. Shepherded the mana as it blew forth, causing it to spin around his Heart, and when he had it moving at a good speed, he opened his Heart wide and inhaled, drawing the Coal into his core.
The very thickness of the Coal caused it to vent more slowly; it seemed to gum up in the fractures of his Heart. It still leaked forth, tendrils of black smoke spilling out, but Scorio felt it build within his core, grow ponderous and dense as he willed ever more of it into his being.
Then the mana emerging from the cup changed, becoming Copper. Slippery and quicksilver, it streamed forth, and Scorio had to center in order to adapt, to capture the mana with his paddle, to guide it about his Heart. It was like trying to herd eels; they wished to course away in every direction, and it was only the gravity of the situation that allowed him to focus so completely that he was able to draw it in.
The Copper was infinitely different, however, from the turgid Coal; it seemed to escape, nosing about within his Heart and finding the fractures swiftly, pouring forth almost as quickly as he drew it in. Scorio lowered his chin, clenched his jaw, and willed more into his Heart, which was beginning to feel uncomfortably full. Fought not to grow furious at how much Copper he was losing; Gelegos had guessed forty percent, but it seemed much more.
He was just starting to despair when the Copper finally gave way to Iron. Dense and independent, it flowed forth from the cup as if it wished nothing more than to remain free of all dominion. Scorio flexed his will, reached forth and exerted his authority over its own, found the Iron as before resistant, unimpressed. But Scorio didn’t yield; all his lessons under Hera came to the fore, and he maintained an active and steady pressure until the Iron succumbed and flowed into his Heart.
And there it coiled, growing denser, more compact by the second, as it sought to accommodate the heavy Coal and slivers of Copper that remained. Scorio drew more and more of the Iron, not allowing himself to relent. Sweat prickled his brow. His breath became shallow and rapid. His muscles wanted to lock up, and within his chest, his real heart pounded as if in alarm, as if seeking to warn him that he was entering dangerous territory.
But still, Scorio focused. Bent his will to the Iron that flowed forth to fill the air around him, pulling on it, guiding it into his Heart, which seemed to swell, creaking and cracking, to accommodate the pressures growing within.
He could do this. He could take more. He could always take more. If it was a question of capacity, and capacity was determined by tolerance, then he could consume all of hell.
He would not break.
His Heart groaned, stretched, and he felt it grow, not in size, but in depth, as if its very center were falling away, the space within its faceted confines growing greater even as the shell remained static in form.
More. Feverish, swaying in his chair, he gripped the arms to steady himself as he willed more Iron into his Heart, unable to breathe, his whole body rigid—then the Iron cut off, and he snapped open his eyes.
The three Recruiters were staring at the crystal, which had lit up with a painfully bright, almost white glow.
“High Iron,” said Selena. “Verging on Bronze.”
“Rank thirty-five,” said Gelegos, lowering the golden mesh tube to the table. “Quite impressive for a Cinder.”
“But look at him,” said Wrack, tone hard. “He looks fit to keel over. Which dovetails perfectly with what I said about his being reckless.”
“I’m fine,” said Scorio, voice coming from miles away. The mana burned in his Heart, and though it was flooding out through the fractures at a rapid rate, it wasn’t venting fast enough. “Permission to ignite my Heart?”
“Go ahead,” said Selena, bemused.
He flexed his will, and his Heart whoomphed into flame so powerfully that Scorio jerked back in his chair. Strength, terrible and puissant, rushed into his shaking limbs, washing away the feverish trembling. He exhaled in relief and smiled at them all. “That’s better.”
“Don’t float away from us now,” said Gelegos, grinning. “That much mana will go right to your head.”
“Don’t worry,” said Scorio, feeling sublime. “It’s like I said. I have it under control.”
Selena sat back and tapped her lips, crossing one leg over the other. “These fractures are worrisome, and your ambition is both laudable and a danger. If we were to sign you onto our team, Scorio, we would need to deal with both.”
Scorio felt at ease, powerful, almost contemptuous of the problems. “How so, Principal Recruiter?”
“The first would require treasures that would heal your fractures. We would dedicate the resources we allocated to you to that alone. A couple of Sublime Purification pills each Eighthday, with an Apotheosis pill every Eighthday or other Eighthday depending on how quickly you recovered.”
“A Thousand Step wouldn’t go amiss,” said Gelegos in a distracted tone, taking his crystal gauge apart. “Peaceful Wheel would be particularly apt, don’t you think, Wrack?”
Wrack frowned. “Given his second problem, yes.”
“I was getting to that,” said Selena. “We’d start you with Sublime Purification and Apotheosis pills to both heal and elevate your Heart, and yes, a Thousand Step to prevent brittleness as you healed would be apt. But your ambition cannot be healed with pills and elixirs alone. Peaceful Wheel would help ground and settle you, along with private meditation classes here at our center. But we’re going to have to work with you to elucidate this strong—”
“Reckless,” interjected Wrack.
“—desire to gain power at any cost. Already you’re running into the limitations your past strategies have created for you. There is a very distinct reason Great Souls do not acquire power at any cost. Anyone in your class could excel beyond all measure if fed the right combination of potent treasures, only to flame out and become a forgotten footnote to your cohort’s records.”
Scorio felt the first flickers of anger deep within his core, but forced himself to relax. “I understand.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” Selena gave him a firm smile as if to take the sting from her words. “I’ve conducted hundreds of interviews just like this one, Scorio. Sat across from ambitious, hungry young Great Souls who want nothing more than to hit the next level of power. Who, if given the chance, would consume an Apotheosis pill a day and drink elixirs of pure Diamond. Right up till their Heart shattered, imploded, burned off or they lost their minds and went mad. Which has happened. Our current practices are guided by previous centuries’ excesses. There were times in our history when we thought we had no choice but to feed young Great Souls treasures beyond their ability, and while that allowed Bastion and our kind to survive those crises, they came at a terrible cost: entire cohorts ruined, driven mad, and turned into burned-out husks of themselves. Those excesses inform our approach today, which means what we give you is calibrated to maximize your long-term success.”