“Now that doesn’t seem fair,” said Leonis.
“He’s a Tomb Spark,” laughed Lianshi. “What’s fair got to do with it?”
“What about your power?” asked Scorio. “We saw the effect it had on Ravenna, but couldn’t tell what was going on.”
Jova smirked. “Want me to try it on you?”
“Honestly? Not really.”
“Then I guess you’re not really curious.”
Scorio dropped back a few steps. “Wait. What? You can’t describe it?”
Jova didn’t slow down. “I can.”
“But she won’t,” said Zala, turning to walk backwards for a bit. “Not her style.”
“You both experienced it, then?”
Zala nodded grimly.
“And?”
“And you actually think I’ll tell you with her right there? You’re not as sharp as I thought, Scorio.”
“Pah.” He hurried to catch up with Jova. “Fine. Tonight, at camp.”
“Not a good idea,” Juniper called back. “Before you try to sleep? Terrible idea.”
“Let him find out,” said Jova. “And sure. If you don’t change your mind.”
“Great. But no. I won’t.”
The sun wheeled overhead and plunged behind the eastern horizon, they rested for the brief midnight, then resumed their travels. Scorio practiced saturating his Heart and walking with it filled to the brink; it was far easier than when he’d tried it as a Cinder back in the ruins, but perhaps that was because he was still venting almost half of his mana; it felt like trying to walk with a full cup of water while most of it poured out a crack in the bottom. The fact that it was Copper seemed to only exacerbate the problem.
Juniper and Lianshi walked alongside each other, talking quietly and occasionally smiling or laughing. They’d shared their past, had featured in each other’s trials. Juniper had loved Lianshi, Scorio recalled. Had confessed her crush almost a thousand years ago. Was she still enamored? He thought to ask Jova quietly, and then immediately changed his mind. Jova was where gossip went to die a brutal death.
Day became night became day, and still they strode across the ash dunes, their large waterskins rapidly growing light. Scorio felt a twinge of concern as he drained his of its last drops. The Ash Belt yet extended to the horizon in every direction. But Evelyn’s blithe unconcern made him hold his tongue.
“Here’s as good a place as any,” said Evelyn at last, looking around the trough between two smaller sand dunes as the sun dipped below the horizon. “We should hit the Rain Wall tomorrow morning, and then you’re in for something special.”
“A feast?” asked Leonis, unshouldering his pack. “One to put the Academy’s mess hall to shame?”
Evelyn considered him with obvious pity. “Who thought it was a good idea for you to come with us?”
Lianshi put her hands rapidly behind her back. “Not me.”
Zala laughed.
They spread their sheets, unrolled their sleeping bags in a star shape, and then as one set about pulling off their boots to tip the ash out.
“Blech,” said Evelyn, her hair winding up behind her head of its own accord to tie itself into a towering knot. “Some say the Ash Belt grows on you. That there’s a weird beauty to it. Not. Me.”
“You should have hired us a whale ship,” said Leonis. “Traveled in style.”
Evelyn lay down on her side and propped her head on one palm. “We actually own a little whale ship. We call it The Sloop.’ But Simeon’s got it right now, and he’s somewhere between here and the Chasm, so you’re out of luck. But if you wanted a whale ship on this trip, maybe you should have signed up with House Kraken?”
Leonis sighed. “I guess they have their perks.”
“What’s Manticore like?” asked Juniper, setting both her boots neatly beside her sheet. “How many of you are there?”
“Five of us Dread Blazes. We’re the original crew, though we never thought we’d end up being the leadership. Came up together, Class of 867.”
“867,” said Juniper. “Wait. You’ve only been reborn for six years?”
“Time does fly.” Evelyn smiled lazily. “Feels much longer than that. But yes.”
“Six years and you all made Dread Blaze.” Lianshi sounded pensive. “Is that normal?”
“About average, I guess. The quickest I’ve ever heard someone do it is three years, but that was Mikoto, so it doesn’t really count.”
“Doesn’t count why?” asked Scorio.
Evelyn leveled a flat stare at him. “If you ever meet Mikoto, you’ll understand why. They’re a Blood Baron now.”
“Blood Baron?” Scorio leaned forward. “She was in your class?”
“They were in my class, yes. Blood Baron in five years. And yes, that’s unheard of. Makes the rest of us look like idlers.”
“That’s…” Scorio shook his head and looked to Naomi, who also looked impressed. Which made him feel a bit better.
“So there’s us, then we’ve got twenty-six Flame Vaults, five Tomb Sparks, and three Emberlings. Thirty-nine in all.”
“Thirty-nine,” said Juniper quietly. “How many Great Souls are in, say, House Hydra?”
“Pshh,” said Evelyn waving her hand dismissively. “Hydra’s huge. Something like a thousand Great Souls, last I heard. But Manticore’s much more discriminating.”
“Discriminating how?” asked Scorio.
“We’re not looking for raw talent nor do we care how far you got in the Gauntlet.” She smiled at him. “Though it helps. No, we’re more interested in intangibles. What’s going on up here.” She tapped her brow. “And in here.” And she tapped her chest over her heart. “When we lost our Imperator, Manticore almost fell apart. There was a lot of talk about just joining the other Houses. But we decided to stay together. Chimera is closest when it comes to ideals, but even they’re more into the extraction game than going all out to get to the Pit. But if we were going to remain as Manticore, we needed to only recruit Great Souls with the same vision. We want brothers and sisters in arms who’ll go the distance with us, and who’ll be there when we reach the Pit.”
Evelyn said all this in such a matter-of-fact tone that it didn’t quite feel like a motivational speech or an attempt to get their blood fired up. But strangely, after hearing so many of Praximar’s purple speeches, Evelyn’s dry delivery felt more real, more credible.
Juniper pursed her lips. “So your guiding principle is to do whatever it takes to reach the Pit?”
“Right.” A lock of her hair strayed forth to start drawing interweaving patterns in the ash of its own accord. “No hoarding treasures. No withholding secrets. No dangling incentives before the lower ranks to get them to do the drudge work. We’ll do whatever it takes to advance as long as we advance together.”
Everybody nodded slowly.
For a while, nobody spoke. They sat in comfortable silence, and then Evelyn sighed and lay back, a thick braid of hair curling over her eyes. “Wake me up for last watch. Get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day.”
People began to settle down, but Scorio caught Jova watching him and grimaced. “Fine,” he said quietly. “Let’s do it.”
They rose and walked a hundred yards away down the trough. To Scorio’s surprise, everybody else followed.
“What?” asked Naomi. “Did you think we were going to miss this?”
“We’ve complete faith in you, my friend,” said Leonis heartily. “I’m sure this isn’t anything Scorio the Quencher of Fun and Good Times can’t handle.”
Scorio went to retort, but then simply sighed and shook his head. “All right.” He met Jova’s pitiless stare. “Hit me.”
He felt her Heart Ignite, and then her power blasted over him.
And she changed. Her form began to melt and stretch, her insides and organs welling up and out through her yawning mouth, glistening and red, bunches of teeth and bristly hair erupting from her skin, her jaw splitting in half, her height doubled, tripled, and then she bent in half under her own weight, lesions scored her skin and then burst open to reveal glistening duplicates of her own face, eyes closed, little mouths vomiting pus.