Rel suppresses a shudder as a bead of sweat drips slowly down his back. He sits statue still next to his parents on the large, colorful cushions strewn across thick woven rugs that cover the floor. They discuss some of the enclaves in between bites of blackberry jam fruit, dates, and cave-aged cheese, listening attentively to the names Awanee calls out. The don’t hide their curiosity over which bidder he’ll choose to represent their Enclave.

“Ah, it seems the Bisura boy is bidding early. He must be improving even quicker than his mentor expected. You know, I hear he is proficient in everything but Spirit, and even that he has some talent in,” his mother says.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, Mayva, but don’t count out one of the Fauna clans. You know how he doesn’t like to let us forget that we never let him have a pet,” his father says with a wink.

Rel smiles feebly in return, but he can’t stop thinking about the gems. He won’t be able to face Vala without them, and he continues to be distracted as he replays the evening’s events one more time.

Everything went smoothly, even with the guards and their early rounds. The ring had worked, and it didn’t hurt that the guards had already polished off a bottle that made them a bit fuzzy. He remembers putting the keyring in a pouch and placing it in the cart, but after pulling the skiff alongside the large steamship and unloading the goods, it was nowhere to be found. He’ll need to slip away and retrace his steps, check the passageways and the storeroom.

The door slams, and he nearly jumps through his skin.

“What’s with you?” Amina chuckles as she plops down on a cushion next to him.

“Just a few nerves. I’m anxious to see the Collaboration get started,” he says, glancing at his parents. They remain focused on the naming ceremony and their speculations. Awanee’s voice washes over Rel’s ears as he tries to pay attention to the bidders walking out from the larger curtained rooms and onto the blue disc at the top of the wide platform that encircles the Elemental arena. After their introduction, they head down the steps into the Elemental arena or continue around the platform and out to the winding stone paths that lead to the other clan’s arenas, including a modified addition for the Wiovan Order. The Order’s arena sits at the tail end of the tents only a few paces from the gentle lapping of the sea.

The crowd roars as a young man walks out from the curtains. He takes his time and waves at the spectators. His dark red hair is tied back in a bundle of braids that fall halfway down the back of his sleeveless grey kaftan. Reaching the center of the blue disc, he bows his head and spreads his arms out to either side as the disc rises a few feet into the air and spins. Intricate silver tattoos gleam against the rich, umber-brown of his skin as they circle around his arms in beautiful patterns. The crowd continues to cheer, and after the disc settles back into place, he walks down the stairs into the Elemental arena, taking a spot at the rock pits next to a taller boy clad in green and black leathers.

“Now there’s one to bet on, Sati. Jara Stace’s boy is the oldest bidder tonight. You know the merchant’s guild has grown impatient waiting for him to settle down somewhere so they can start building their ties through him instead of Jara. As if he’d be any less ruthless. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has him wearing a powerful trinket, though it seems such a waste considering the boy can channel Spirit in his sleep. He should be showcasing that!”

“I assume Sekani’s going to bid every clan,” Sati muses, “and I wager even the Wiovan will see a little of what he can do. Jara would expect no less, as you know.”

His mother’s smile pulls her lips back in a straight line, the one Rel has learned to mean she wants to say more but won’t. Awanee’s voice continues to boom across the arena, “As promised earlier, please welcome Kywen of Enclave Kostis, Clan Flora!”

Amina shifts on her cushion, craning her neck to see better. “Look at that shade of blue,” she says, elbowing her brother in the ribs, “I can tell that fabric is rare even from up here. The girl clearly has taste. You know she’ll run straight for the Flora arena. What do you think she’ll do, grow a bunch of man-eating flowers? Now that would be impressive.”

Rel opens his mouth, but the words freeze in his throat when he notices that the girl seems to be staring up at him. She doesn’t seem to acknowledge the crowd, keeping her gaze lifted to the hollowed out space where he sits. As she reaches the disc, she lifts the hem of her sari just slightly, crouching into an awkward curtsy with her left leg out in front. The familiar flash of something green catches his eye, but before he can be sure, the disc rotates away and she drops her skirts. After the disc settles, she gives a final glance up towards him before walking down the steps into the Elemental arena. A murmur ripples through the crowd at the same moment Amina jumps up from her cushion.

“She’s bidding Elemental? I hear the girl’s so weak, she can barely spark a flame. Is she lost?”

Mayva and Sati hush her, but Rel can tell they are thinking the same thing. He’d heard some talk about the upcoming bidders; it was impossible to avoid, but he’d been too deep within his own plans to pay attention to the details. Now the odd conversation he overheard two moons ago makes some sense. His father had been walking through the east orchard with a member of the First Council, and neither man was aware that Rel, who continues to find it useful to channel noisy debris out of his path, had been heading their way.

Sati’s boots crunched over the fallen leaves, and Rel heard their voices from the other side of the wall, quietly ducking behind a thicket of hanging winter melons. He wasn’t prepared to provide cover for what had him heading from the cliffs so late at night. He knew his parents were busy, not stupid.

His father led the way around the curve, holding something in both hands. Rel squinted in the dark, trying to make it out past the vines and leaves, but the shadows were too thick. Sati was a full head taller than the other man and half his girth. The shorter man held a blazing torch, and Rel recognized him right away. His father often called Sapritch Teele a thorn and a trouble-maker.

“I don’t want anyone else to know the real reason for the change, Pritch. We have to be bold, throw them off track. What do you think now?”

They stopped walking, and Sapritch leaned up against one of the Calypso apple trees where several of the red-fleshed fruit were in reach. “May I?” he asked.

Sati turned to face him and nodded, “Always.”

Sapritch pulled an apple down and sighed, rubbing it against one of his sleeves, “Normally I would fight you on this, but the situation is worsening in Skoth. With what you’ve told me, I have no doubts that someone is orchestrating these events, someone with a deeper knowledge than Second Council artifacts. It can’t be anything other than sabotage at this point. It seems you’ve made the right call, though you must be careful not to allow an Enclave with a powerful heir to host. Rich? Yes. Everyone must be there to witness what follows, but it won’t help us to favorably position a strong Enclave when it’s all said and done.”

“Why are there always new puzzles to solve? If they only knew what’s really going on, the moves being made behind closed doors . . . sometimes I envy them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sapritch said around the half-chewed bite of apple. He finished chewing and swallowed with a grunt of pleasure. “Ignorance is not bliss, Watcher, and they are not as naive as you think. Regardless, they will all see the light soon, and everything will change. For now, I only suggest you look south. Their alliances have never wavered, and they’re not known for trying to claw their way into higher standing. As for what we’re looking for, they’re usable.”

“I intend to find a permanent solution. I refuse to leave my children in a position of weakness, but time is running out. Considering your advice, I have an Enclave in mind, but it’ll take some convincing to get the Council on board with some of the unsavory company they keep. Now take this and go. Don’t come again until I call for you. I don’t want them to get suspicious.”

Sapritch took the bundle from Sati’s hands and cradled it under his meaty arm, hesitating a moment before he said, “Don’t be afraid to do what needs to be done.”

Rel watched the men part ways, Sapritch taking the path into the forest and his father heading back to the house.

The memory fades at the thundering of another round of drums. The crowd’s cheering reaches a crescendo as Awanee raises both gloved hands into the air. The purple jade stones hanging from her ears glow softly as she moves her hands through the air with precision. A ring of purple light radiates above her, and as it slowly rotates down and around her body, her dress begins to shift into an ice-white, glittering bodysuit with a collar and wrists of fur. The crowd cheers and whistles at the spectacle. Along with the influence of being a Guardian in the Earthfire League, Awanee enjoys a well of power from the strong pairing of her parents’ Spirit clans. Popular for her illusions and animation ability, she’s most well-known for her skill in mastering Elemental Duality. She can pair any of the four elements to strengthen her magic.

The crowd settles down as spectators shuffle out of the stands and trickle out to the paths. Those with an eye for beauty or a taste for balance enjoy the Flora demonstrations while the softhearted tend find interest in Fauna. The Elemental displays can be dazzling, but Spirit usually draws the largest crowds. Even though truly powerful Spirit Channelers are rare, people love to watch because Spirit magic is fun. Spirit isn’t bound by the laws of nature like the other three disciplines, instead, one’s connection with Dreamsong is what gives shape to the potential of channeling Spirit magic. The milling of bodies creates a moment of opportunity for Rel. Even though he knows his parents will disapprove, he finds himself getting to his feet and heading out the door.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” his mother asks.

“I just need some air, I won’t miss anything. I promise,” he says and ducks out the door without waiting for a response. He wants to get a better angle on the girl, figure out what she’s up to. His palms itch with irritation. Vala told him she didn’t think it was a good idea to borrow the ring of gems, but he talked her into it. Even made her promise not to tell Varden.

“My father knows I’m the only one who’s seen where he keeps this one hidden away,” she had warned him, “and being his daughter doesn’t mean he won’t come after me.” His ears singe with the heat of shame. He continues to berate himself as he winds his way down the inner staircase and exits onto the lower right stand that sits adjacent to the arena. Shielded from direct sight, Rel now has a clear, eye-level view of each bidder. There are eleven total, five girls and six boys. Sekani Stace’s feet light up with the signal to begin, and he wastes no time after taking his place.

The boy crouches down with a fist to the ground, a deep orange glow pooling around it. The ground rumbles as a large column of rock rises into the sky. Opening his fist, he presses his palm flat and the orange current trails along the dirt to a trio of large boulders placed in the middle of the arena. The first one shudders and vibrates, slowly beginning to roll towards the pillars he has created. His other hand swirls in circles, and the boulder follows suit as it picks up speed and starts to lift from the ground.

Just before the giant boulder is about to slam into a pillar, Sekani whips his spinning hand up through the air, and the boulder splits in two, curling around and back together on the other side. The boy jams both palms into the ground, and the boulder slows to a stop and ceases its rotation. He guides it to the ground and the boulder becomes engulfed by the orange glow. The seam where it has split in half knits together as bits of metal and sediment seep upwards out of the ground and into the boulder, enlarging and strengthening its form. Closing one fist and then the other, he draws the orange current back into himself as the pillar sinks back into the dirt.

Rising to his feet, he draws the current out of the ground and through his lower body, up his torso, and gathers it into his hands. Two glowing discs swirl around each wrist, and with a bellow, Sekani slams his palms together, sweat beading his along his face and neck from the effort. The reinforced boulder shatters into a billion glittering dust particles.

The crowd goes wild and chants his name. He bows, soaking in all the adoration, but it isn’t long before he gives a final wave and trots out towards the Spirit arena. Rel can’t help but admire his father’s prediction, and if he weren’t waist deep in dung, he’d probably enjoy watching the rest of Sekani’s performance through each arena.

He looks back to Kywen who shifts her weight from one foot to another. She occasionally glances up to where he had been sitting with his family, almost like she wants him to notice her, and as the bidding continues, his attention remains split between the odd girl and watching the others manipulate two or more of the elements with varying success. After an hour, only Kywen and one other girl are left. Kywen jumps just before the ground around her glows, signaling her turn.

Clasping her hands together tightly, she walks to the center of the arena and sits on her heels. The hair on his arm stands on end.