Theo couldn’t believe how many people filled the Lordwright’s Manse. Nearly all of them had a ribbon announcing their chosen Pageship. Almost all of them wore the blood red of duel, a strong smattering held the brown of horse, and a few blooms of the black for trade. There were probably less than five with blue ribbons for logic.

“Do you want me to guide you by the hand farmerboy?” Isidora hissed at him then jerked her hand in a sharp wave for him to follow. Her eyes were like two gaping pits though, wide with awe likely at so many packed into one building. His heart pounded like a drumroll with beats overlapping one after another.

Red flickered at the center of his head where he’d been focusing whenever he did his meditations, then it extinguished alongside the several fold heartbeats.

Music screeched and wailed from a stage off to one side, serving men and women trailed through and around all of the elects readily leeching chips from their purses.

Modran had already stalked off towards the Trader’s Court on the second floor. He couldn’t help but repress a quick stab of fear that she’d brush against someone and leave a cloud of dust and panic behind her.

Whatever, she knew the risks. He couldn’t worry about her forever. He had his own problems to deal with.

Theo limped after Isidora to the backdoor that led into the courtyard where they had been told they would find horseBaron Tomandre and his Pages who’d instruct them all.

A serving woman proffered them chilled glasses of ale on a polished bronze platter until it shone from all of the candlelit sconces. Theo shook his head, but Isidora dropped a few white chips with a clatter immediately swallowed by the rest of the din as she took a glass.

Isidora took a sip and sputtered before passing it to Theo. “That’s revolting. It’s well suited to the likes of you.”

He shrugged and accepted it with murmured thanks as they finally managed to work their way through the knot of elects crowding the door outside. He took a sip while he eyed the blazing torches speared along the hedges and flower bushes. A fountain with a marble statue of a horse in mid-stride and froth around its mouth spouted a trickle of water.

“I believe that’s them.” Isidora marched off without another word to where a stately woman bedecked in rubies, emeralds, and a simple silver chain sat at a table covered in the remains of an empty feast.

Here, all of the other horsePage-elects milled about. Children of Lordships, the lot of them. He crinkled his nose at the cut of suits and dresses that were worth Nightfire’s weight in green chips. Wastes, he could probably get a black chip or two if he robbed everyone nude.

“Two more of you? Unholy Wastes it never ends. Well, I won’t repeat myself much more. You’ll start having to tell any of the other latecomers what I said, or not. You have three days to ride to Aethel from Gatestone once the sunhawks sing.”

Simple enough, but Theo didn’t understand why they needed to hear all of this from her.

“Are there any rules we should know or some ceremony before we go?” Someone asked. He was tall and all muscle ready to burst through the seams of their Dontrosi silks. Knives crisscrossed his belt on his waist, and on the other looped around his waist diagonally to his shoulder.

“There’ll be enough of both if you arrive in Aethel. Do as you please, but suffer the natural consequences.” Tomandre shrugged primly, her shoulder strap slipped to expose a flash of dark skin. “Anyone not in Aethel three days from now will be failed.”

Theo frowned as he counted the rest of the crowd. It was hard to be certain with everyone constantly moving about and the constant flow of the serving staff only disrupted his count. But there were at least thirty horsePage-elects out here already, not to mention any latecomers or people inside.

“Looks like I no longer have need of your services. I hope I don’t see you in Aethel.” Isidora grimaced at him then bounced towards the man who had spoken. He bet she was batting her eyelashes at him already.

Now that her bandits-turned-servants weren’t of use she was already discarding them in favor of a new, shiny tool? Good riddance. At least he was released of his guilt now.

“Oh, and before I forget, anyone without a room or a spot in the stableyards come dawn, won’t be allowed to continue either.'' Tomandre called as she and some others started to trickle back towards the common room of the Manse.

Theo gritted his teeth and limped to join the party he’d have no choice but to participate in. After loitering in line for nearly half an hour, it had cost him a blue chip, a blue chip to get a hitchspike for the night. He couldn’t imagine a room would be any cheaper, but he supposed he could sleep out there with her. That was an exorbitant amount of money.

He should’ve been able to room somewhere for a week with that much and have a little bit of whatever was in the pot each night.

Theo had a strong feeling some of his fellows wouldn’t be above sabotaging saddles or anything else the others owned. Anything to get ahead, right?

I sure hope Modran is getting along better than I am, he thought as he headed back outside to where a few attendants were watching over the gathered horses.

*

*

*

“It costs a green just for a room?” Modran squeaked at the innwoman who glowered down at her. Rosri in Fremr only charged a few white for a room and her stablemen to attend to someone’s horses!

“Can’t pay?” The woman squinted at Modran like she was an insect that she were about to squash under her thumb. “Looks like you’re wearing the wrong color, girl.”

“I can pay.” She hissed through her teeth before turning on her heel to strut away.

She only had a pittance in white chips to her name. Theo might have more. She’d never been expected to do many chores with her sickness and everyone’s distrust to let her tend to the crops or animals. There really wasn’t much reason for her to have chips if she rarely left the house.

Her gloves pinched at her fingers as she clenched her fists by her sides. That pompous bitch tradeBaron Deleren said everyone would need boarding and a seat on the wagon train if they wanted to be able to compete in Aethel.

Anyone who couldn’t pay the price in an hour would be sent home. Not like any more time would help anyway.

Life bubbled and fizzed all around her. It was nauseating in its heady, exhilarating rush. She rushed towards Theo the minute she spotted him walking towards the front door. She darted around people without even looking, unable to tear her gaze from now she had her sights on him.

Especially now that he wasn’t trailing after Isidora.

“Modran? Good. I’m going to the stableyard with Nightfire. You can join if you like.” He caught her wrist and hauled him after her without another word.

As if that would help her! She needed chips fast.

A single green chip for a room was madness! She could live on that for a whole month, maybe two. Why in Aleyr’s name would she squander that on a room she’d use for less than a night? Besides, who knew how much a seat on the wagon train would cost.

“By the wastes, they’re mad. We can’t leave the Manse at all before dawn. A little hitch spike costed a blue chip! Not that I’d want to leave Nightfire out here alone.” Theo said darkly as he looked at a few stragglers mingling outside of the doorway. Every single one of them wore clothes finely cut, most of them had neat embroidery stitched in various shapes. Vines that spanned the length of sleeves, roaming hawks, bears and wildcats.

Fanciness for the sake of extravagance.

Children of Lordships bent on carving out a Title for themselves.

“Theo, listen, for us trade-elects we need a green chip for a room. Anyone without a room in an hour will be sent home. We’ll also need to pay for a seat on the wagon train tomorrow!” Modran broke her wrist free from Theo’s grip to wave frantically at the air above her head.

“What a brilliant way to make sure Lordship spawn gets a chance at becoming Pages while keeping the rest of us out.” Theo spat.

“Probably, but that doesn’t help me. Do you have any chips you could lend me? I’d hate to have to go home before I could even try!”

“Don’t you get it?” He snapped, turning to her. “It’s already started. Who can scrounge up the money to pay for rooms and transportation? What a convenient way to pretend at equal opportunity, while making sure those who are ahead, stay ahead. It’s all the same.”

Modran gritted her teeth and huffed. “Maybe I can make a deal with that innkeeper to kill off some of her rats or something for a room.”

“Will that help?” Theo scoffed as they finally retrieved Nightfire and brought her to the side out of the line of similar elects checking on their horses. He stooped down to examine the girth of his saddle and everything else with a razor-sharp focus.

“Maybe.” She sighed as she plopped down beside Nightfire. The mare’s lifethread was a familiar sinnous beat in comparison with all of the strange horses and people about. “All we were told was to make sure we had boarding.”

“Hm.” Theo grunted non-committedly. Great, we reached the non-verbal stage of the conversation. He wasn’t going to be much help while he was absorbed in checking over all of his equipment and Nightfire’s condition.

Wait, she perked up, her finger tapped against her puckered mouth in thought. All she needed was boarding or proof of it. That’s it. She wouldn’t be surprised if all of the rooms for tonight were charged at a much higher rate than usual or if someone hadn’t already snatched them all up to sell to their slower peers.

“Theo…” She started but he didn’t notice her in his scrutinization of the girth strap nearly under his nose. “Theodran!”

“What? Yes.” He jumped and dropped the saddle on the ground with a dull thump that stirred a puff of dust.

“Did you get a chit or something as proof you got a spot in the stableyards?”

“Yeah. Right here.” He pulled the scrap from his jacket pocket. “Why?”

“I’m wondering if I could use that as proof of boarding or maybe even forge one of my own.” She took it to examine the scrawl penned on it under the flickering light of all the torches spread out over the stableyards. Still too dark.

She tugged on the lifethreads of the grass and insects around her then smiled as the night became as clear as day to her. Lot 34-G claimed by the bearer. If lost, all property is forfeited to the Lordwright’s Manse.

“Don’t lose this or you’ll lose everything you keep in the lot.” Modran handed it back to Theo with a sour grimace. Sweeping Theo aside just so she could get what she needed and risking him and Nightfire wasn’t right.

“What are you going to do?” Theo watched her like she was a stalking wolf that would kill everything she touched. It probably didn’t help that she stood in an ashen, barren patch of grass, on top of draining the life from it without touching it with her bare skin.

“I don’t know. I hope I could skate by securing some form of lodging, but I’m afraid it might not work if it’s the Manse.”

“Slim chance of that.” Theo gawked at the flood of revelers spilling in just as much as out of the wide double doors to the inn. “It’s too bad I can’t try and get a room. After all, I wouldn’t be surprised if the prices were different for the other kinds of elects.”

“Too bad we aren’t in dueling then they wouldn’t be able to charge us hand and foot for the stableyards or rooms.” Modran hissed as she kicked her foot in the dirt. Tiny motes of life dimmed in her lifesight.

“They probably have to fight for room and board though.” He shrugged. “Watch Nightfire and take her to the lot. Keep this and make sure nobody comes a hair too close once you’re there. Do what you have to.”

He cupped the scrap of parchment into her hands then marched towards the Manse. Anger must’ve been an inferno inside of him with how he hardly even limped from the stab wound in his thigh. Flickers of a faint red nimbus shone around him.

Modran led Nightfire towards their square on the open land as she checked for Lot 34-G against the signs in the ground. “Looks like it’s just you and me, Nightfire.”

The mare said nothing, which was a blessing in and of itself. She didn’t even know what she’d do if she could suddenly hear the life around her in any way more than phantom swells of music. Ghosts were already annoying enough as it was, but she had had nearly her whole life to learn how to tune them out.

*

*

*

Those damned musicians were still sawing away at their violins with the same brash screeching as before. People danced and swayed to it like it was their funeral dirge. It very well could be. They’d all be finished with their respective trials in a week if they made it to begin with.

Smoke and sweat hung in an overpowering pall in the air, blocking out the aroma of roast beef and whatever else the cooks were laboring on in the kitchen. Ale and bubble wine flowed easily across the room, but conversation seemed to be in more limited supply. Tight-knit groups of Lordship spawn were packed so close together in clumps they could’ve been packed into barrels.

Isidora wobbled in a corner with her own group of sycophants. She likely expected every one of them to drive her to first place in the Trials. The fools probably would if her bandits were any indication.

Otherwise there were more than a few stragglers fording their way through the hostile waters alone, just like him. Theo wondered if they’d become easy pickings to cement the alliances of the rich and powerful.

Serving men and women walked in a constant circuit from the kitchen behind the bar to the rest of the common room, and the courtyard outside. The hulking innkeeper was sovereign with behind the bar as she belted out order after order to her staff. He almost felt bad for them.

Theo strode over to lean his arms on the polished mahogany countertop and waited. And waited.

He waited for what seemed an age. Heartbeats roared around him in a discordant babble. Nausea prickled the backs of his eyes as a headache wormed its way down to the nape of his neck. The rest of him ached as well from the inside of his thighs, rubbed raw from the saddle, the heels of his feet that were surely pebbled with blisters. His hands felt raw and burned from the oven or a campfire.

But when he examined himself, he found nothing. His hands were unblemished, and he knew that he wasn’t sore from the saddle or walking. He’d spent all his life riding one horse or another, and he certainly wasn’t a stranger to hard walks.

Theo ground his teeth as the innkeeper paced past him on the other side of the bar to see to someone dressed in better clothes than him.

“Excuse me!” He pounded his fist into the counter with a hard rap as she stalked past him again.

“What is it?” She rounded on him and met his severe glare with a keen grimace. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“I would like to rent a room.” He cut in anyways with a cold smile, but she turned aside with a scoff. He struck the countertop again and snarled, “That is if this second-rate hovel has any to spare?”

She blanched when she stopped to actually look into his furious eyes. She rubbed one of her hands that were flushed scarlet. “I-I’m s… sorry Master Heir, I don’t have any more rooms left. For the brown you shouldn’t need one?”

Master Heir? Theo pondered on that for a moment in the back of his mind, but leaned on the woman harder. Modran would get a room. He had promised to take her with him, and he would not abandon his sister in a town with the Order inside it.

“You want me to sleep out in the muck?” He growled, twisting his face into the same melodramatic sneer he’d seen Isidora use whenever she didn’t get her way. “I’d rather be cast out in the wastes to be feasted on by abominations.”

“There’s nothing I can—”

“Aleyr, Treassi and Muna! Anything will be better than that! I don’t care how small of a room it is.” He slapped his palm into the counter to drive his point home, but guilt stabbed at him when she flinched back.

“Yes, Master Heir, of course. Of course…” She licked her lips, her eyes darted from one side to another as if thinking more fiercely than she ever had in her life. “I have a storage room downstairs or a shed outside. I doubt it’ll meet your expectations… but it’s all I have left.”

Theo said nothing as he stared her down with a blank expression. Dammit, she was telling the truth. He pulled himself up to his full height and sighed as he slipped his hand into his pouch.

“The shed will do. I’ll have complete privacy, you hear?” He slipped out a blue chip and tossed it on the counter with as much indignant arrogance as he could muster. It was likely far too much for that run-down shed he’d seen, but he felt bad bullying her.

“Yes, Master Heir. The shed doesn’t have a lock, but there is a latch.” She snatched the chip up and had it hidden away somewhere in the folds of her apron quick as a snake gulps down a hare. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Theo could’ve sworn her heartbeat was far more pitter-patter than the gentle drumming most everyone else’s was. He didn’t know how to be sure who was who, but it had to be hers. “Could I get a note for it? I won’t have some serving man or woman of yours barging in accusing me of trespassing.”

“Right away.” She barreled off into the gullet of the kitchen. That scampering heartbeat disappeared from his senses, but dozens more remained.

“Wow farmer boy, you’re a natural.” Isidora flounced up to the bar beside him in an exaggerated swirl of her skirts.

“Natural at what?” He scowled at her, not in the mood for any more of her games.

“I had no idea you were so… talented.” Isidora whispered the last word with a sly wink. “Not only do you shoot at innocents, but you badger them? You might as well be the son Father never had.”

Maybe someday after I win. He thought wryly, then the rest of what she said echoed in his ears. Talented. “What do you mean?”

“Rissa was right, you do ask a lot of questions.” Distaste curdled her mouth as she shook her head ruefully, then at his confused look said, “One of the bandits I saved you from? Anyway, I saw the nimbus around you. Funny that, I always thought you’d have something to do with horses. You ride well enough, but there aren’t any in here, are there? Tell me.”

Theo opened his mouth ready to tell her everything he’d managed to piece together since that short lesson with Sevra and Alanna, then he shut his mouth with a plop. Alanna had told him to not trust Isidora or tell anyone about his talent unless they told him theirs.

So, why did he want to spill everything he thought he knew to her? Enthusiasm and a desire for approval bubbled in his gut.

“You won’t tell me?” After you nearly shot me?” Isidora’s top lip quivered, her hands rose to her chest and unshed tears sparked in her eyes. Guilt gnawed at him from the soles of his feet to the ends of his hair.

“I don’t really know, but—”

“Here you go, Master Heir!” The innkeeper limped back waving a rolled scrap of thick creamy paper as if it were a trophy. Her hand ached where she’d rubbed it raw. Theo frowned at the phantom sensation that wasn’t his. “Would you like any food or drink?”

“Thank you, but no. Have a good night.” Theo took the paper, spun on his heel and marched off to return to his sister and Nightfire.

“We’ll resume this conversation later, Theodran!” Isidora’s singsong voice floated behind him, he shot her a passing glance over his shoulder and saw her curious grin. Sparks of red whizzed around her like a swarm of fireflies.

It didn’t take long for him to force his way through the already diminished crowd and out the door. Fresh, sharp summer breezes blew past him ripe with the scent of wheat fields that had baked and were now cooling in the relief night brought.

Theo hummed as he trotted towards where Nightfire and Modran waited. He felt better than he had in ages, especially now that he was out of that claustrophobic den. It was such a refreshing change of pace he almost sprinted for the joy of it, but he was afraid of tearing the wound on his thigh open.

It had throbbed near constantly. Turns out being stabbed by an arrow was about as much fun as he’d imagined. But now?

There was no pain or tightness at all. Even when he prodded the site of the wound.

Theo smiled then ran.