The city of Bastion turned out to watch them go.
“No,” muttered Leonis uncomfortably. “To watch you go, Scorio.”
The avenue he’d mentioned to Nissa was lined on both sides by a thick crowd. It was clear most of them had worked their way north from the poorer wards. An impalpable pressure kept casual strollers and regular foot traffic from traversing down the length of the avenue, such that their little group marched alone.
“Well, damn,” laughed Dameon uncomfortably. “This is a first. Should we wave?”
The crowd occasionally cheered, but for the most part, they simply stared, expressions filled with emotion. All eyes were trained on him. Scorio thought of the festivities of the night before and wondered where that revelry had gone. It felt almost uncomfortable.
“Did you upset them?” asked Jova, unable to stop glancing back and forth as if expecting an attack.
“No, he didn’t,” Naomi spoke with quiet authority. “In Bastion the people have only ever cheered for Great Souls by necessity. Cheering is a sign of forced fervor. Their silence is their own. It’s their presence that matters.”
“I wouldn’t mind cheering.” Evelyn didn’t seem to know how to walk; she tried beaming at the stoic expressions, then ignoring them, then flipping her hair and talking gaily with Davelos, then marching in uncomfortable silence. “Honestly, they should be throwing flowers and pressing treasures into your hand. This feels almost ungrateful.”
But in every gaze Scorio met he saw a surfeit of emotion that more than paid him for his efforts. To each he nodded, and they nodded in return, no more, no less, and his heart grew full.
Abentha stood with four of the other ring leaders in the center of the avenue up ahead: Gethane, the balding man in crimson and black; Walsham, mustachioed and florid; and Ferric, the saturnine youth with a caustic attitude. The crowd swelled here, and though Scorio saw House Chimera guards in evidence, they made no move to disperse the throng and allow the temporarily backed-up traffic to pass through.
“Scorio!” Abentha’s eyes gleamed with tears. “A final thank you before you go.”
Scorio moved forward, leaving Manticore and his friends behind. “This isn’t necessary.”
Hundreds watched. The air felt taut with emotion and significance.
“Isn’t it though?” Abentha’s voice was soft. “I admit I didn’t believe you’d accomplish this. I thought you another Great Soul playing games with the people. But you proved me wrong a thousand times over. And I have never been more glad.”
“You’ve changed Bastion forever,” said Walsham gruffly, tugging at his mustache. “I know we may have few years in which to celebrate it, but the people give their thanks.”
“There’s a good chance we’ll erect a statue in your honor,” smiled Ferric, his normally dour features carving themselves into a smile. “Watch out.”
Scorio inclined his head. “I’d be honored.”
“We won’t waylay you,” said Abentha. “There have been plenty of speeches already. But we wanted to give you a few tokens of our appreciation. We know it’s next to nothing compared to what you’re probably used to, but…”
Gethane drew a small sack from under his cloak. “Open it later, son.”
“This isn’t necessary,” protested Scorio, but they pushed the sack into his hands and then stepped aside.
“Go with our blessings,” said Abentha. “We’ll never forget what you have wrought here.”
Scorio tied the sack to his belt and bowed his head low.
“Let’s make this livelier,” said Ferric. “For Scorio!”
“For Scorio!” bellowed Walsham, and the crowd broke out into cheering at last, people moving forward to clap Scorio on the shoulders and grin at him as he made his way through, following the nonplussed Manticore down the last of the avenue and then turning toward one of the staircases exiting the city.
“Did nobody tell them you had help?” muttered Leonis.
Lianshi laughed. “You’ll have your day in the sun someday soon.” She linked her arm through his. “All you need is to find some impossible task and then make accomplishing it your life’s goal.”
“Hmm.” Leonis rubbed at his bearded jaw. “Infernarch it is.”
Simeon glanced back in amusement. “Leave some room for the rest of us.”
“My entourage is capacious. There is room for all.”
They passed through the cordon of guards as before, descended, flipped, then ascended to the surface of the Plains. Scorio was too subdued and thoughtful to take as much enjoyment of the process as last time, and it was with some surprise that he emerged onto the ashen enclosure.
Had it been only eight or nine days ago that he’d gazed up at the blue skies with awe and trepidation? It felt like two months ago.
Manticore set out with confidence toward the base of the scaffolded staircase bolted into the inside of the huge wall, each step causing puffs of ash to arise. The area was filled with waiting traffic, carts laden with vegetables, beasts lowing in hunger or boredom, vendors hawking skewers of grilled meat and cups of coffee to the farmers and merchants standing patiently in line.
Out here nobody knew or cared who Scorio was, and it felt as if a fever had broken. He stood a little taller and inhaled deeply. It wasn’t that he wasn’t proud of his accomplishments, but his surprise at the sheer intensity of emotion had mostly served to remind him how detached he was from the consequences of his quest. If he’d failed? He’d have walked out of Bastion regardless with Manticore to continue his training.
But for the thousands trapped below, it had meant everything.
And that sobered any sense of pride or exultation he might have felt.
“Ready for some exercise?” Davelos grinned, inhaled till his chest almost creaked, then set off at a run up the rickety staircase that rose hundreds of yards to the distant whale ship platform.
Jova bolted after him without hesitation, and Scorio recalled their mornings running around the Academy’s racetrack, Ravenna and Jova effortlessly leading the pack.
The Manticore trio went next, followed by Juniper and Zala.
Leonis retied his hair back into a new ponytail, grunted in pained resolve, and began pounding up after them.
“That’s a hell of a climb,” said Lianshi softly, craning her neck. “We’re going to need to burn mana to keep up.”
“Then get to burning.” Naomi took off, light and lithe, and was followed a second later by Lianshi.
Scorio sighed.
This wasn’t going to make him look good.
Freight went up platforms attached to the huge crane wheels, which meant the stairs were for foot traffic alone. Each ironwood plank was socketed into the stone wall, with each next step just high enough to make the climb uncomfortable. As he jogged up some of the planks shivered alarmingly. Whereas at first the monumental size and obvious age of the staircase had given Scorio a false sense of security, the sight of the occasional replacement plank reminded him that even the most seemingly eternal structures could deteriorate.
He delayed Igniting his Heart for as long as he could. The steps climbed forever, every twenty or so terminating at a broad platform and then switching back. The rest of his friends pulled steadily away, not having hesitated to Ignite immediately, but he labored on as best he could till he was drenched in sweat and his breath rasped in his throat.
He was about halfway up when he Ignited. Immediately the stiffness and burning sensation in his muscles disappeared and he filled with vigor; he bounded up with alacrity, pushing himself as hard as he could so as to maximize his advantage.
Back and forth, up and up he went, Bastion’s vast entrance steadily diminishing below, the wind picking up and plucking at his robes, the planks swaying and giving under his weight with ever more frequency.
He was almost at the top when his Heart gave out.
With a gasp he felt the strength flow away from him, leaving him winded and exhausted. Lianshi had hung back enough that he was able to push a little harder and catch up with her, but where he was dripping sweat she simply looked concerned and at ease.