A Stone's Throw, page 20
part #2 of The Petralist Series
“Two steps ahead of you,” Connor said, then headed across the huge room as if he knew where he was going. Another worker pointed out a long room on the far side that was filled with pegs for clothing and piles of freshly laundered jumpsuits. He slipped one over his clothes and headed deeper into the tunnels. Dressed like the other workers, no one paid him any heed.
It took half an hour of wandering the warren of underground tunnels to find the place he wanted, and he explored far more of the Rhidorroch’s underbelly than he had intended. At one point, he stepped through a strange round door that led onto a steel catwalk spanning a sizable cavern completely filled with water. He was tempted to linger and explore more, but time was running out before Jok ran the course. Finally he peered out a concealed window overlooking the long mud pit with the rope canopy suspended high above.
He waited. Within a few minutes, one of the female students reached that point. The girl failed to roll the huge sphere across the rounded plank, but dropped it into the mud and was obliged to jump in, slog across the pit, and climb up the sand tube. Halfway up her granite failed and she got stuck.
Perfect.
Connor responded to the call for help along with several other workers, and learned from them where to find the hidden doors that allowed them to reach into the sand-filled tube and drag the panicked student to safety. He lingered after the other workers left, some to escort the girl back to the observation deck and others to assist in the effort of extracting the huge sphere out of the mud. He took another minute to study the sand-filled obstacle and the other concealed doors that opened onto it. Then he climbed to the narrow catwalk that ran along the edge of the rope canopy above the pit. The ropes were connected to brackets at regular intervals, and he found that the brackets had release pins that could be removed. Those would be the ones that would give way under a student’s weight.
So he crouched out of sight and watched. A larger number of Professor Hector’s students were older, so more of them made it to the mud pit. Several of them made the jump up to the rope canopy, and Connor watched as they worked across the challenging obstacle. Most of them fell when ropes gave way, including Jok’s other lackey. Connor loved seeing him wallowing in the mud, then huffing his way up the sand tube. He completed the course, but not with a great time.
As expected, Jok was the last student to run the course. The burly Petralist actually lifted the sphere and carried it across the plank before riding it and leaping up to the rope canopy. He moved with confident strength. No wonder they treated him as a leader. He possessed many of the right qualities.
His eyesight was not the best, though.
As Jok began quickly swinging hand over hand through the rope canopy, Connor pulled three of the pins from the securing brackets. When the first rope slipped, Jok managed to lunge across to the next rope in an impressive feat of strength and agility.
Too bad Connor had removed that pin too.
With a shouted curse, Jok plummeted into the mud pit and Connor thumbed his nose at the angry Petralist, happy Jok couldn’t see him. He couldn’t replace the pins, but it didn’t matter. He planned to be long gone before anyone arrived to reset them.
Connor scurried down to the tunnel just outside the sand-filled tube and arrived just as Jok began bulling his way through the tube. His pulse quickened with anticipation, and he wished he had a little granite. Not because he planned to punch anything, but because not feeling it skittering under his skin with anticipation for action felt wrong. It was like heading for battle with only one shoe on.
Like his friend before, the sand-filled tube was the one place that Jok’s great size worked against him. He was forced to slow and reduce his tap rate to fit. By the time he had climbed halfway up the tube, he was panting like a lathered horse and cursing enthusiastically.
As Jok paused for a second to rest, Connor popped a tiny piece of quartzite into his mouth and sucked on it. Instantly the refreshing taste cleansed his mouth as liquid warmth began pooling in his head. He eased open the trap door on the side of the tube closest to the exhausted Jok and directed the quartzite power outward. He was hoping to trigger a tiny jet of air to blow some sand into Jok’s eyes.
If wishes were ducks, this one would have dropped an egg on his head.
Quartzite was unstable, and the piece he sucked on was poor quality so he got no air movement until he max-tapped it. When he connected with the surrounding air, it seemed bored and eager to do something fun. It blasted into the narrow tube, whipping the sand into a storm of tiny particles. Connor had to close the trap door to keep from being blinded too.
Jok began cursing louder and banging into the walls of the tube. “When did they add wind?”
Then the words Connor wanted to hear. “By the Tallan’s eye, I can’t see!”
He eased the trapdoor open again and found Jok pawing at his sand-filled eyes.
With his heart in his throat, Connor reached one hand into the tube and snatched for the sandstone pendant. Just as his fingers scraped against it, Jok’s body swelled with granite and he roared with frustrated anger.
Connor wanted to add his own howl when Jok’s ballooning mass twisted the pendant just out of reach. If he leaned forward any farther, Jok would feel his weight and realize what was going on.
With a surge of superhuman strength, Jok burst up through the tube, forcing Connor to retreat and slam the trap door as broken fragments of the sand-filled tube rained from above. Connor sat for a moment in the dim passageway, staring at his empty hand. He’d felt it, touched it! If only he’d managed a couple more seconds, he could have stolen the pendant back and Jok would have just assumed it got lost in the sands.
Outside, Professor Hector’s voice bellowed through a long amplifier horn. “Disqualified.”
Connor saluted the distant professor, celebrating that one tiny victory.
As he quickly left the raging Jok behind, he committed to running his secret geall against Jok to the uttermost end.
Chapter 31
Connor tried to focus on the tiny victory of getting Jok disqualified as he returned the jumpsuit and climbed back to the observation platform. If not for Connor’s intervention, Jok would surely have recorded the best time of the day. It was little consolation after failing to retrieve the pendant. Professor Greim’s class arrived to replace Professor Hector’s, and he delivered the portions.
He was startled to see Shona with the other students. She ignored him and moved to the railing, surrounded by a gaggle of other girls. Even though she wore the same battle leathers as everyone else, she still managed to wear hers with a certain elegance that none of the other girls could match. She was a high lady among noble girls.
She laughed about something, and he hated that her rich voice still affected him so much. He scrambled down the ladder to the lower deck, seeking some solitude. He moved along the lower platform until he stood near the slide where he’d enjoy an unobstructed view to watch her run the obstacle course.
Just as the first student was preparing to begin their run, Professor Greim spoke loudly in a surprised tone, “My lords, my class is scheduled now, but we’re happy to wait and let you run first.”
A deep voice unfamiliar to Connor responded, “Always thinking, aren’t you Greim.”
“I don’t want your champions delayed.”
“And no doubt you’re happy to give your students the benefit of watching how the Rhidorroch should really be run.”
Intrigued, Connor jogged back to the ladder and climbed high enough to see up onto the observation platform. Professor Greim’s students had given way to a new group. Connor recognized the students from the tertiary affinity classes, along with their teachers. Several high lords and ladies dressed in full finery stood nearby, and the entire group was oriented around three students Connor had not yet met. Two were large men in their early twenties, while the third was a woman of average height who wore her battle leathers with as much grace as Shona. Her pretty face seemed to glow when she smiled, and he was surprised to see white-blond hair, ice-blue eyes, and pale skin so similar to Gisela’s.
Could she really be from Althing? He hadn’t considered they might have Petralists. He returned to his solitary perch on the lower level beside the slide. There he could overhear most of what they said.
“Today’s running allows for only the use of primary affinities,” Professor Greim was saying.
“Of course,” the same deep-voiced man responded.
“Both for the Agor,” said a woman.
That was a surprise. Few Petralists possessed the gifts of establishing dual primary affinities with two igneous stones. It was when he proved himself Agor that Shona had really begun taking an interest in him. Getting to watch Agor run the Rhidorroch would be a rare treat.
In moments, the young Sentry, Declan, who had worked so hard to accomplish so little in that practice yard, took the slide down into the maze. His primary affinity was granite, but he did poorly in the maze. By the time he found his way out and began traversing the ropes course, he hit the upper time limit and was forced to withdraw.
The older Sentries performed much better, and the last of them ran the maze without making a single wrong turn. Connor wondered if he’d managed to memorize the correct route or if he was drawing upon just a bit of slate to explore ahead with his earth senses and ferret out the right turns. His primary affinity turned out to be basalt, and Connor watched with great interest as the Sentry took a different path than the Boulders had. Instead of running through the same obstacles, he raced across narrow beams suspended high above the ground on swaying ropes, launched himself across jaw-dropping open spaces, and snatched knives or spiked balls from high perches to throw at shifting targets for extra points.
Unlike the Boulders, his path took him through the center of the course to the pond and its island. There he slipped inside a large sphere of metal mesh and began running inside the sphere, his blurring legs sending it rolling out over the water of the pond, spinning fast enough that it didn’t sink. He looked like a fast-running eoin bird, but he made it to the island where he exited the sphere and crossed the second half of the pond by running on top of the sphere, rolling it over the waters. It started to sink and he just barely made it, fracking his legs to generate enough spin to drive the sphere onto the far bank.
Beyond that, he entered an area of more high ledges, narrow tubes, and mud-filled trenches. He blurred through most of them to the growing cheers of the watching students, but got bogged down in one sand-filled tube where he wasted a full half minute before managing to wiggle free. If he he’d been cheating with slate during the maze run, he didn’t attempt it in the tube. From there he raced up a long ramp, ran right up a fifteen-foot wall, and dove through an intricate ropes course to grab a bag full of spiked balls. On the way through, he brushed against one of the ropes and students called out the foul, which apparently meant he would lose points, but Connor didn’t care. The student’s performance was remarkable, and watching the fellow blaze through the course with such confidence made him yearn to absorb basalt and give chase.
The student poured on the speed as he ran the final open field in wide arcs, dodging bolts fired from concealed crossbows and throwing the spiked balls at moving targets. Then he faced a steep ramp of stone down which poured hundreds of gallons of water, a treacherous cataract that attempted to sweep away his footing. He shot up the water, with spray arcing from his fracked feet, and ended his run in a flying leap that landed him atop the outer wall of the compound, where he ran back to the cheering students.
Hidden below the crowd, Connor clapped along with the rest. That display of talent reminded him of the wonder he’d felt in those first days learning what Guardians and Petralists could do with their powers. He doubted anyone could top that time.
The time held, but some of the other students from the other metamorphic classes came close. Then came the three unfamiliar students, all of whom were Agor. From what Connor gathered from overheard conversations, they were the contenders for ultimate champion of the Tir-raon. More amazing, all three were Dawnus, having established affinities with one of the tertiary elemental powers, and with its direct opposite.
The woman, whose name was Padraigin, went first. She tore through the course just as fast as the one Sentry had, but with a grace to her movements he’d lacked. While she ran, the air rang with the sound of invisible trumpets and hidden drums, as if the air was cheering her on.
“She can’t use tertiary affinities in the course,” Professor Greim protested.
“She isn’t using them to improve her performance,” one woman responded. “It’s just a matter of style.”
She had lots of style. She also had granite strength, which allowed her to take a different path than either the Strider or the Boulders. She chose a path right along the limits of the two other tracks, shifting back and forth between those primary affinity igneous stones depending on which obstacle she faced.
Connor watched with growing interest. Padraigin changed between granite and basalt several times, demonstrating a mastery over the art of managing absorption rate and purging between stones without suffering double-tap sickness. The more he watched the more he realized the key must lie in absorbing just enough powder to complete each section. That degree of finesse in absorption and tap-rate control awed Connor.
He had so much to learn.
Padraigin beat the Strider Sentry’s time by a full eight seconds.
That record barely withstood the next Agor’s run. Redmund stood about Connor’s height, but with exceptionally broad shoulders. He radiated power in the way that only Sentries could. He ran the course using both granite and basalt like Padraigin had, but where she flew with the grace of a natural Strider, he bulled forward more like a Boulder even when tapping basalt. That lack left him two seconds behind her.
As students chattered excitedly about the close standings, Connor was amazed to learn that the final Agor to run was a Guardian, not a noble-born Petralist. As much as the other students clearly hated the thought of a Guardian positioned as a strong champion contender, they universally hated the thought of Padraigin winning even more. She was indeed from Althing, and there’d never been a foreign Petralist at the Carraig with a strong chance of winning the Tir-raon, and never a foreign Dawnus.
The threat Padraigin represented to the integrity of the game drove them to embrace the Guardian as a potential hero. His name was Ivor, and apparently he’d arranged with his sponsoring high lord for adoption into the family if he won. Connor whistled softly to think about the pressures Ivor had to be facing, and silently wished him luck.
Ivor was a big man, who clearly preferred granite. He chose mostly the Boulder-side track, although he did tap basalt to run across some of the more treacherous obstacles. He ran lightly for a Boulder, with tremendous athleticism that allowed him to leap right over some obstacles and easily slip through others that had hung up most of the other Boulders.
He beat Padraigin by one second.
Connor leaned back against the outer wall while the students cheered, considering what he’d learned from those three Agor. They had displayed a level of control he had not seen in any of the other students, a degree that challenged the professional ranks of the armies that fought around Alasdair.
He remained there while Professor Greim’s class ran the course. After having witnessed the skill of the metamorphic Petralists and particularly the Agor, Greim’s students performed at a much higher level than the previous Boulder classes. No doubt the other professors would claim foul once they learned the details of the situation, but Connor doubted the protests would help.
His musings were cut short when Professor Greim called, “Shona. You’re next.”
Connor moved to the outer edge of the platform, right next to the slide. A moment later, Shona slid past, close enough that he could have touched her. Or cut off her hair again.
Shona ran fast, head high, face intent. She raced through the maze without making any wrong turns and launched into the Boulder track with intense concentration. Connor had seen her fight, had floated the Lower Wick with her for hours, and had spent most of several days by her side. Watching her triggered yet another flood of memories from their time together.
A lingering sadness settled over him as he watched her run the course. If only she’d stood by him at Alasdair, so many of his current problems could have been avoided.
Shona posted the best time of the day behind the three Agor.
Unsurprised, Connor waited until the class left before slipping out of the Rhidorroch and heading for the Sculpture House to resume his cleaning duties there.
A courier raced up to him with basalt speed. “You’re the servant of the sculptress, yes?”
“Yes.”
“You are summoned to Lady Shona’s presence at Lord Nevan’s palace.”
As Connor jogged in that direction, he wondered what new noose she was planning to bind him with.
Chapter 32
Inside Lord Nevan’s palace, the same silver-haired butler directed Connor to a lavish sitting room on the second floor. Mahogany bookcases lined one wall, while a large fireplace with a cheery fire took up most of another. Plush chairs and couches scattered around the room made it easy to pick just the right spot to enjoy the spectacular view of the Carraig and Mount Murdo through twenty-foot windows. The golden hardwood floor lent the room a warm feel, enhanced further by the thick rugs placed under many of the chairs.
Shona sat near the huge windows not far from the fire, chatting with the slender, long-nosed nobleman Connor had seen with her during her grand entrance into the Carraig. He wore that long nose with more dignity than most people could have managed, and was dressed in a finely tailored suit of wool over a linen shirt starched so stiff Connor wondered if it hurt to move. Shona had already changed out of her battle leathers into a plum-colored blouse with a high collar, and a skirt that matched her skin tone so well that for a second her legs almost looked nude. Connor banished the thought before he started blushing.
