Chapter 14

T he crowd is much thinner here, outside the coliseum. The fighting has resumed in the pits, and I recall the two young boys I saw. One of them will move on, but as to the other, how will he fare? Will he have a home to return to, parents who care for him, though he hasn’t excelled in the pits?

I think about Merritt being forced to fight that way. How would he have performed, coming to this place as anything but a feted warrior son? He had no idea of the world that existed outside the walls of the Tenth House. Clearly, I didn’t either.

I need to do better, and in a hurry.

“When do you want to train with your Divh? I can be there for that too. I can help, you know. Even, you know, with this.” Caleb’s words cut through me, refocusing my attention. Not so much for what he’s saying, but for the unexpected emotion that lifts from him like a wall of tears, for all that his tone is light. I blink as I take in his earnest expression.

“Of course you can help, at least I think you can,” I say. “I’d be honored for you to assist me.”

Assist me with what? I have no idea. I’ve barely seen my Divh myself. How am I going to use Caleb in any meaningful way? Merritt didn’t have a squire assist him with his actual warrior training. He didn’t need to. Merritt and his Divh were symbols of the Exalted Imperium, a warrior pairing intended for display, not use. The Tournament of Gold was a symbol too, I’d assumed…but clearly, I was wrong. There’s no denying the undercurrent of danger and unrest I felt on that stage. These men will fight to win.

Caleb seems like he’s waiting for more, and I shake my head, trying not to sound as helpless as I feel. “You have to understand. At the Tenth House, we held no tournaments. We fought in no battles. I don’t know the first thing of how to fight like the warrior knights of the Fourth and Sixth Houses that we saw here yesterday. I don’t know the proper movements or the protocols.”

“You’ll pick it up quick enough—and you won’t be the only one feeling a step behind. Tournament rules change from place to place, so there’s always something to learn. Keep your eyes sharp, watch everyone around you, and sneer a lot. I’m telling you, the sneering is half the battle.”

Before I can protest, the crowd closes in around us, stifling our conversation. It’s another hour before we reach our camp. The priest is there, and our horses, but no one else, thank the Light. I don’t realize how much I’ve missed this oasis of calm until I’ve returned to it.

Caleb bounds up to Nazar then bows deeply to him. I wonder at that, but Caleb is excited, and he does owe Nazar his position. Plus, Nazar is a priest. Though his role in the Tenth House is limited to the ancient rites, perhaps here in Trilion, the position holds more sway.

“ Merritt has entered the Tournament of Gold, just like you said he would,” Caleb says, placing a slight emphasis on my brother’s name, enough to make me wince.

Then his words catch up to me.

“What?” I stiffen as Nazar turns to me. “You knew I’d enter? How?”

The priest shrugs, his gaze inscrutable. “It’s the surest path to honor, and your truest path. You merely needed to find it.”

“It’s definitely the surest,” crows Caleb. “And speaking of, we’ve got to head up to the First House tonight. They’ll be making room for us in the barracks, and the feast .” His eyes dance as he clutches his hands to his stomach. “You’ve never eaten so much.”

“Not tonight,” Nazar says, watching me as I try to hide my panic. This is happening. Really happening. I’ve entered the Tournament of Gold. “We’re not required so soon, surely.”

Caleb pauses, shifting his glance between us. “Well…no. Technically, we’re not required to appear until tomorrow, where Merritt will be presented at the grand banquet. There’ll be other warriors coming in as well, I think, so there will be more honor banquets throughout the week. But Merritt’s will be tomorrow.”

“We shouldn’t still be here at all,” I groan, unable to help myself. “I shouldn’t have entered. We should be getting back to protect the Tenth House.”

“The Tenth is already protected,” Nazar says, startling me. “The whispers have grown into a reinforced wall.”

I scowl at him then cut my glance to Caleb, who’s doing his best to look innocent, and failing utterly. “What whispers?”

Nazar gestures expansively. “It appears that the warrior knight of the Tenth has sworn retribution on the marauders who attacked his party—and on any others who dare harass his house. Any with ears to hear will wait now and see the outcome of the Tournament of Gold to see how much pain they are inviting onto themselves by troubling the mountain keep of the Tenth House. One knight and his Div…or a veritable army.”

“As if I have any shot at winning.” But I stare at Caleb, and he stares back, his grin unabashed. He knew the truth about me when he spread those rumors. He at least suspected it. Was he simply trying to drive the bettors into a frenzy?

“Yours is the way of the warrior.” Nazar’s words recall me, his tone completely neutral. “And so tomorrow, we go to the First House. Tonight, we prepare.”

By prepare, Nazar clearly means “clean.” Every dish, bowl, blade, and piece of tack is dragged into the center of our encampment, and Caleb and I spend the rest of the day inspecting, repairing, and running all manner of errands to fetch new leather lacings or metal hooks, ensuring all is in perfect condition. I bend myself as earnestly to these tasks as Caleb does, though I sense his intrigued gaze upon me, and I see what he sees. Here I am, a warrior knight, doing the lowest work asked of me without complaint. If he hadn’t already guessed my secret, this wouldn’t have helped.

My lips twist, but in this, at least, I understand Nazar. In a few days’ time, I’ll be asked to use these weapons and trappings of war. The more I’m comfortable with them, the better off I’ll be.

Then again, I won’t be entering a cleaning competition, but a…

I fumble my bridle, my hands dropping to my lap. Nazar looks up, then shakes his head slightly, clearly suggesting I need to stiffen my spine. He’s right, of course. I’ve put myself upon this path now. All that’s left to do is walk it, step by step.

The way of the warrior is death. I must face it fiercely.

Nazar’s gaze moves to Caleb, for all that the squire is paying us no mind. Instead, Caleb’s happily brushing down Nazar’s mare, telling it of all the grand adventures that await us at the First House. The horse’s ears flick back and forth, indicating that she’s listening too, as Caleb warns her of the majestic warhorses in the First House’s stables, along with the finest oats and fresh apples and softest brushes.

We work long into the evening. As we prepare for nightfall, Caleb helps unstitch me from my tunic sleeves, and I force myself to let him, even though he winces to see the dark and damaged skin around my warrior band. It looks far worse than it feels, now, only twinging when I jostle or press against it. I wonder if it will always hurt to the touch.

When we at last break for a meal, Nazar uncovers a cooking pot that’s gone unnoticed in the embers of the fire. The rich, savory scent of meat swirls around us as he takes off the lid. He portions out the meal and I stare at it. I’ve never eaten anything so fine, or so much of it. This is a meal fit for warriors, I realize. As Talia, I wouldn’t have eaten this.

Nazar watches as both Caleb and I dig in, though the priest’s food goes untouched. Instead, he takes out his long pipe and lights the fine-smelling leaves within it. He gives us both cups of a sharp-tasting drink, which makes my nose crinkle. I set mine away instinctively after the barest sips, and a moment later, Nazar replaces my mug with a second, this one filled with hot water. Caleb receives no such new mug, and his laughter grows broader and less restrained as night falls heavily on the camp. Within an hour, he’s too muzzy to stand, and I push him toward his pallet.

“No,” he protests, trying to rally. “I’m…your squire. I hassss to help you.”

“Then do a squire’s work.” I laugh and nudge him again, and he stumbles to the right. “Tonight, that means you rest. Nazar wouldn’t have given you that wine if he hadn’t intended it to put you to sleep.”

That makes Caleb’s eyes go wide. “Perhaps I’ll dream of Divhs!” he says, and once again, the longing in his young voice hurts my heart.

“May your dreams bring you great happiness, then. Now go, get on with it. “

I watch him stumble to his pallet. I don’t know that I can trust him—he’s just a boy, and for all that he’s clearly endured, he could say the wrong thing at the wrong time, betray me in a moment of panic or heat. I have to be aware of that.

But none of that matters so much right now, as I hear him telling his horse of how, one day, a mighty Divh will choose him as his warrior knight, and all will stare in wonder.

I’m still smiling as I finish the last of the camp chores, everything falling silent as the rich smell of Nazar’s pipe plays on the night breeze. I’m grateful for the tasks, for something to focus my hands on even as my mind dips and whirls along impossible paths. But I can’t say I’m truly surprised when Nazar finally stands. I look at him then glance back to where Caleb is lightly snoring. “He won’t do much to watch the camp.”

“I’ve hired other watchers. Come.”

“No—wait,” I say hurriedly, not wanting this secret to be shared beyond the reach of our own fire. “He knows, Nazar. About me. That I’m…” I swallow. “Me.”

The priest squints at me, his pale eyes flat and unimpressed with my revelation. “Of course he does. Yet here he remains, pledged to Merritt of the Tenth. Would that you bring honor to his choice, as well as to your house.”

With that, Nazar picks up his walking staff and turns toward the darkness. I scramble to my feet and follow him. The night is bright, the pale gray of his long tunic easy to keep in front of me. We make our way through the twisting maze of other camps that dot the tournament grounds. There’s laughter and revelry in some, banked embers in others, each according to their needs for the following day.

At length, we arrive at the now-empty coliseum. The fighting platforms remain, littering the center of the field like leaves on a fall day, but no guards stand watch. The place has its own oppressive feel to it. I doubt anyone would seek to desecrate or loot it.

Nazar, however, moves forward without hesitation. It takes me only a moment to realize that he’s angling toward the large wooden towers at the midpoint of the field. “You fight well with the staff and cudgel, but only against opponents of shadow and men of straw,” he says, referring to my practice dummies behind the manor house. He watched me far more than I realized. “You have no experience with the sword. You cut and defend well with the knife, but this isn’t a battle of defense that you face.”

I stay close to him but offer no response as he continues. “The way of strategy is long, it’s said, and your time is short. But that’s not a true statement. What is true is that the way of strategy is neither short nor long. It’s exactly the time it must be to the open heart and mind. This is what I would teach you.”

Nazar speaks with a fluid cadence, almost offhandedly, as if he’s discussing the morning’s meal. But his words strike me with an intensity I don’t expect. “I don’t understand.”

“The way is not understanding.” The priest stops and lifts his gaze to the structures where the two warriors fought. “It is knowing.” Turning to me, he drives his staff into the ground with a force I wouldn’t have expected. Then he folds his arms over his chest. “Summon your Divh. We must know what we have to work with.”

“I—”

He waves away my protest. “You are Merritt, warrior knight of the Tenth House. You’ve set foot upon the Lighted Path and cannot leave it. The way of the warrior is to reach the end of that path, which is death. There are no other options.”

My gaze snaps to his. “Warriors don’t die in tournaments, Nazar. They’re not supposed to die at all.”

He watches me with flat eyes. “All warriors die, if they are true. They also don’t deviate from their chosen path until the goal is reached and their house is honored. Would you so quickly bring dishonor upon yourself and your house?”

I shift uneasily. “I have no house, Nazar. Not really.”

“Then act as if you do. Again, the way is not about understanding.” He plants his feet in a wide stance.

I gesture nervously. “There’s no room here. You saw how big Gent was. It’ll trample the platforms here, and someone—” I drop my voice low, trying to cover the hysteria in it. “Someone will see. Or hear, certainly.” I dimly remember how Gent’s bellows shook the mountains. Someone will definitely hear.

“The plane of the Divhs is always ready for warriors. You’ll fight there.”

“The plane of the… What are you talking about?” I stare at Nazar, wholly lost.

The priest reaches out and clasps my shoulder, the shock of his contact startling me. As a noble daughter whose only worth to my house was as a virgin bride, I’d never been touched by any man before this week. Here, it’s happening every time I turn around. Something else to get used to, and there’s already been so much I’ve needed to learn. Too much.

“It’s time,” Nazar says. “I’ll remain here in prayer, but you’ll hear me. Summon your Divh.”

Sweat runs between my shoulder blades, but there’s no denying the priest’s command. I reach up with my right hand and tentatively wrap my fingers around the living band that encircles my left bicep. Even through the thickness of my shirt, its heat nearly sears my fingers as I grasp it, a sudden pulse of fire leaping along my fingers and down my arm.

“Fix your mind on an open field hung with blue mist.” Nazar’s words pound painfully in my head, but I do as he asks. A breath later, I can picture it: an enormous yard opening up before me, towering stone walls surrounding me in a long oval. I turn, then turn again.

“Open your eyes, warrior,” Nazar murmurs, but his isn’t the only sound that reaches me. Another draws my attention, a short, huffing breath high above me… Far too high.

I open my eyes. There are walls surrounding me, not coliseum stands. There is the yard I had imagined, not the tournament ground filled with fighting platforms. The blue mist that hangs in the air is thick enough to cut through, blanketing everything with a distorting haze. And there’s that huffing sound again…the sound of a heavy breeze whistling through thick, wet columns.

I look up—and up still farther.

A monster stares back at me.