“Scorio.” Dameon looked at him. “A word?”
They stepped aside as the others mingled. Dameon crossed his arms and looked past Scorio’s shoulders at the others, then back. “I want to be honest with you.”
“Yes?”
“I’m concerned about your Heart. You could have possibly turned the tide of battle when you attacked me at the end there. Simeon can duplicate our powers, but very weakly. It’s entirely possible that you could have shattered my forcefield and taken me down.”
Scorio hung his head. “Right. I know. My Heart is fractured by what I had to do to get this far.”
“I can only imagine. But the end result is not good. Nobody else ran out of mana. Your loss of control proved to be a huge liability to our team. Not only that, but your body isn’t integrating the mana as it should.”
Scorio looked up with a frown. “Integrating?”
“That’s right.” Dameon’s expression was hard as granite, and the contrast with his amiable nature thus far was striking. “The act of saturating your Heart with mana has an overflow effect where your body becomes similarly saturated. It’s a subtle and lengthy process, but the result is a hardening, a growth in natural resilience and strength that sets Tomb Sparks apart from Emberlings and Cinders. Your power makes you strong, but I’m not sensing the tempering that should be taking place. Not like I can with Jova.”
Scorio blinked. “But that’s her power. To be more resilient.”
“Even so. As a Tomb Spark, you should be more durable, stronger, in your human form. You’re not. Because you’re losing mana every time you Saturate faster than you can absorb it into your flesh. Didn’t whoever taught Mana Studies warn you of this?”
Scorio grimaced. “She did. But like I said, I had no choice.”
“Well, the deferred payment is coming due. I obviously want to bring you on board. But this flaw is a serious deterrent. I understand and respect the sacrifices you had to make to get this far, but will not allow Manticore to suffer for your weaknesses. If you want to be a full member of our outfit like your friends, you’re going to have to work twice as hard so as to earn the elixirs necessary to heal your Heart.”
Scorio straightened. “Not a problem. I can do it.”
“I bet you can.” Dameon considered him. “This is a fair warning, however. Whatever I ask the others to do, you’ll have to do double. Given the state of your Heart, it’s going to take a lot of wealth and resources to get you up to speed. You’ll have to convince me every inch of the way that it’s worth it.”
Scorio nodded curtly. “Like I said. Not a problem.”
“We’ll see.” Dameon smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “If anybody can overcome the colossal setback you’ve taken upon yourself, I’m sure it’s Scorio, savior of Bastion and man of the people.”
The Dread Blaze walked past him then to rejoin the others.
Scorio stared furiously at the church wall, then turned to look over his shoulder.
Jova was watching him.
Her expression was inscrutable, but there was no mistaking the glitter in her dark eyes.
Scorio clenched his jaw and closed his hands into fists.
She only stared at him before turning away.
Chapter 26
They quit the church shortly thereafter to return to the Citadel where word was that the White Queen and the Council would shortly make a final announcement about the new Consortium.
The rumor proved false.
After sitting around in the capacious entry halls for three light cycles of the sun-wire, they rose along with hundreds of others to watch the Autocrators emerge from their inner sanctum, attendants, advisers, and assistants in tow, and leave the Citadel with pained smiles or stony visages.
“Looks like there was no resolution,” said Dameon, smoothing his coiffure back. “What a waste of time. I’m going to speak with several contacts and make sure we’re not missing out on potential business opportunities.”
“Have fun, darling,” said Evelyn. “I’ve heard some old friends are hosting a get-together on the third floor of the Kraken headquarters. We’re all invited. Could be fun.”
“No thanks,” said Naomi.
“Oh, c’mon, sweetness.” Evelyn linked her arm through Naomi’s. “You have to come. I simply have to see how you dance when thoroughly intoxicated.”
“Not going to happen,” said Leonis. “Whereas the Golden King is more than glad to provide instruction in the art of merriment.”
“You should all go,” said Dameon. “And not just to have fun. If you’re going to be working with us it’s important that people see our groups together. Think of it as a gentle alert to the world of the Great Souls as to your new, if provisional, association with our team. You don’t have to stay long. Just enough to make an impression.”
Jova grimaced. “If you say so.”
“Oh, I love you dedicated Emberlings and Tomb Sparks.” Evelyn reached out to Jova with a thick rope of hair and pulled her close enough to link arms. “Acting as if every second is your last, desperate to train, with no thought as to the pleasure one can find between your acts of heroism. Loosen up, honey. You never know. You might even enjoy yourself.”
“Unlikely,” said Jova dryly.
Evelyn laughed. “With these two by my side I’m guaranteed to be the life of the party.”
Simeon raised an eyebrow. “Want me to come with you, Dameon?”
“That’s all right. I appreciate the offer. Best if you’re there to field any direct inquiries. Just let everyone know we’re preoccupied with our quest in the Chasm in the short term. No distractions for a few weeks. After that? We’re fair game.”
“Understood.”
The crowd was draining out of the Citadel. A familiar face passed their group by, stopped, then returned.
“Scorio!” It was Captain Thorne, a handful of Great Souls in ship’s uniform behind him. “There you are. I was afraid you’d already slipped away. A word?”
Dameon nodded his approval so Scorio stepped aside. “Captain Thorne. To what do I owe the honor?”
Thorne gripped the edges of his robe’s broad lapels and tugged on them as he smiled. “I may be a Dread Blaze, but boy, I feel like I’m the one that’s honored. I can hardly credit your accomplishments. And in less than a year? Astounding.”
Only a few hours before Scorio might have blushed in pleasure, but following the game of Fiend’s Heart he felt painfully sobered. “You are too kind. I mean that. I couldn’t have done any of this without my friends, and luck played a huge role in all of it.”
“Hardly, hardly. But let’s set aside your modesty for now. I see you’re standing with the Manticore crew. Have you thrown in with them?”
“I’m in the process of doing so, yes.” Scorio hesitated. Was there anything he shouldn’t reveal? “They helped me reach the White Queen, and my friends and I admire what they stand for. We’re entering a provisional membership.”
“I see.” Captain Thorne studied them with a carefully neutral expression. “Then I suppose I’m too late. Alas. Word came directly from the Iron Tyrant that I speak with you.”
Scorio blanched. “The Iron Tyrant knows of me?”
“Son, you helped an Imperator fend off Imogen the Woe. Word of such deeds spreads. And if there’s one thing every Great Soul of power is always hungry for its promising new recruits.” Thorne lowered his bushy eyebrows. “Our numbers are limited, Scorio, and most—like myself—are too easily contented to rise high in the ranks. I’ve been a Dread Blaze for almost two decades now, and much as I hate to say it, I’m content with captaining The Celestial Coffer. I don’t have the endless fire of ambition to punch through to Pyre Lord and above. Reborns such as yourself, however, have a clear trajectory. Your impact on today’s proceedings is proof. The Iron Tyrant’s heard of you, and wants you to work for him.”