There was shocked and startled silence. And then, from the sidelines where the slaves of the army watched-and smelled-came the unmistakable sound of laughter. No one had expected such a joke in such a serious contest, which made it twice as funny.
Just one man laughed, and slightly hysterical at first- but that one was joined by another, and another, until the whole army was laughing, and the voices of the Mazonite officers trying to restore order were drowned in the sound.
Adria’s face turned red, then white, then red again; this time an apoplectic-looking purple-red that betokened exactly what Xylina had hoped for. Complete loss of self-control and concentration. Xylina had gambled that the Queen was fatigued by her conjurations and the tension of the occasion, and prone to overreaction, especially to the ridiculous and insulting. Stressed-out, she felt the laughter of her own troops like a physical attack.
Adria's next attack showed just how far she had fallen from that self-control; she began manifesting and throwing metal lances, one after the other. If the domes had not been in the way these could have been deadly, but now mostly clattered harmlessly off the adamant. This was basic, unsophisticated conjuration, worthy of a girl's first arena demonstration-as had been the case with Xylina. It was almost beneath the notice of an experienced Mazonite.
Xylina's reply was a deluge of water that washed away the manure, and left Adria’s legs dripping wet. She looked almost as ridiculous as before. The men roared again with helpless laughter, which was redoubled when Xylina dropped an enormous sponge and recognizable bar of soap in front of her. Mazonia had never seen combat like this!
But Xylina's purpose was not humorous at all. Her life was on the line, and she knew how dangerous the Queen remained. Adria had attacked once from above and once directly; she would probably come up next from below. Xylina could use that if she did.
Xylina was prepared when lances of rock thrust up from the sand; she had already created a table-like shield just beneath her feet, and the thrust of the rock spires carried her up into the air so that she could jump from the table to the top of the domes. Before Adria had a chance to react to so obvious a target, Xylina turned the water about her to ice, making the Queen slip and fall when she flinched back, then sent shards of ice lancing upwards in mimicry of Adria’s rock-spires. Now Ware's insistence that she practice with temperature conjuration was paying off; the Queen had not been prepared for this. Indeed, Adria probably didn't yet realize exactly what was happening.
Adria dodged out of the way, slipping ridiculously and causing the men to laugh until tears ran down their faces. She was really losing it-if this weren't a ruse. Then when Xylina continued to create the razor-sharp ice-spires, the Queen angrily countered with a great pile of cotton batting to protect her from them. This would both shield her from their points and soak up the water as they melted. She was evidently nonplused, realizing that Xylina's power was greater than anticipated; she had not expected to be forced into a defensive mode.
"Spin it!" someone called, laughing.
"No," Faro called. "Burn it!"
His voice was like a light illuminating the arena. Yes- she could make it burn.
This was just what Xylina had been waiting for. Adria had made a critical error. She had surrounded herself with flammable material. She didn't know what Xylina could do with it. And of course Xylina would not have been able to conjure flammable material around the Queen and ignite it; it had been all she could do to keep Adria at bay. She had to work on one thing at a time. But now that she had her opening, it was time to pounce.
Xylina got to work. She lay down on the dome, getting as close to the shard as possible, and felt its power radiating out to her. She concentrated as hard as she could, heating the Queen's cotton. It was hard at this distance, but her recent practice had made it possible. She drew from the shard and conjured a tiny spot of heat.
"Giving up, child?" Adria called mockingly. She thought Xylina was lying on the dome from exhaustion. She had no inkling what was in the offing.
It better light soon, though, because the Queen was getting ready to return to the attack. An ominous fog was forming over Xylina. She focused with all her might-and saw a tiny wisp of smoke just behind Adria.
Then there was a puff of flame. She had done it! The batting was burning!
The Queen turned, smelling the smoke. "What-?"
Xylina wasted no time. She knew that the Queen would banish her cotton in a moment, leaving nothing to bum. She had to pounce while she had the flame. So she conjured more fluid.
This time, what Xylina doused the Queen with was not water. It was naptha. And she followed it with oil.
The Queen, and everything around her, exploded into flames. They leaped up throughout the area as the oil flowed. It was impossible for Adria to run out of the fire fast enough-not with her oil-soaked legs already burning. There was so much oil that it fueled a fire that reached far into the sky, an inferno. Much more than the Queen must have thought Xylina was capable of conjuring at this stage. So she had been caught by surprise, thinking her opponent no stronger than herself.
Xylina slid down off the domes to cower behind the adamant as the fireball blasted everything in the vicinity. The Queen's scream of agony echoed in her ears, and went on for a long and terrible time; she covered both her ears with her hands, and still it echoed in her very soul, until she feared that the echo of it would never leave her, and she would hear it in her dreams for the rest of her life.
Finally she could not bear it any longer. She conjured one last time; another block of stone identical to Adria's first attack, a stone which she dropped on the burning Queen, extinguishing blaze, scream, and the last pitiful remnants of Adria's life.
Complete silence descended upon the field of combat, and in that silence, Xylina dissolved the sole remaining dome of adamant and claimed the shard. Then there came a low exclamation of amazement, as the watchers realized that Xylina had actually conjured almost three times as much mass as the Queen had. Xylina herself hadn't realized how much, until she paused to ponder. Maybe the mere nearness of the shard had enhanced her power in that respect too. What awful power lay in that little bit of glass! Yet she could not fear it; she loved it, despite her knowledge that it was really doing its will, not hers. It would inevitably corrupt her, and she would be an absolute fool to believe she could resist it indefinitely. But she had to-for as long as she could.
She looked out over the armies-which now technically belonged to her. She could become Queen of the Mazonites by right of battle. While her association with the demon made her technically ineligible, she could now change that law by fiat. The victor made the law, ultimately. But of course she wouldn't. That would be early corruption. She could return to her own land,and she could keep the shard. There was nothing that she could not do, but this was all she would do.
Though she was far from those assembled armies, there was one emotion she read clearly in every pair of eyes, slave or Mazonite.
Fear.
The new Queen of the Mazonites tasted her power, and found it a bitter drink. She looked out over her troops, and she said only three sentences into the waiting and frightened silence.
"I will not be Queen. Go home. All of you, go home."
Then she turned and walked wearily back to the comfort of the three who loved her.
The little rock-walled room was very crowded with five people in it. "My Queen-" Xantippe said, awkwardly. Xylina interrupted her with a shake of her head. She was bone-weary, and wearing the plainest tunic and trousers she owned, simply to try to show Xantippe by her very clothing that she had no intention of taking power.