The first feeling was one of relief. Fourteen spots! Teia could do that!
There were a few cheers-but they came from the students who thought they could make the top fourteen and knew they couldn’t have made the top seven. The boys who had been certain they were going to make it didn’t look as pleased.
Ironfist pursed his lips. “Yes,” he said. “The Blackguards in previous classes are going to look down on you. I want you to take that on, as a class. I want you to make everyone in your top fourteen as good as the earlier classes’ top seven. We have a mission. We need Blackguards to accomplish it. I will still expel anyone who can’t handle the mission. I’m expanding Blackguards’ remuneration immediately, too. You’ll be elites, and you’ll be paid as such. If you have friends who are excellent fighters or have the potential to be such, encourage them to join the next class. We’ll be running four classes a year from here on, not two. If I’m right, the next few years may see all of us needing trustworthy comrades. Not all of us will make it.”
Ironfist took off his ghotra. His head was shaved bald in mourning, and his face was mournful but stern. “Your predecessors have died defending the Seven Satrapies, defending the Prism, defending the White. Many people will look at you and see children, but I’m asking you to make an adult decision. Are you ready to die, maybe alone, far from home, with no one even knowing what a hero you were? I can’t even promise that your lives or your deaths will accomplish victory. All I can promise you is that as long as I draw breath, as long as I lead you, I won’t let you be wasted. That’s all you get. That, and the brothers and sisters you see around you. If you don’t want that, good for you. Go lead a happier, safer life somewhere else. Don’t show up tomorrow. Because tomorrow everything gets harder.”
He tossed his ghotra on the ground and walked out.
The students watched him go.
A few clapped, but others looked toward Cruxer. He put out his hand, palm down: no, don’t clap. And that- with a dozen students deferring to Cruxer, and Cruxer taking that deference and doing the right thing with it-was when Teia realized Cruxer would be the commander of the Blackguard someday.
“It’s war,” Cruxer said. “The Color Prince has invaded Atash. By now the city of Idoss has probably fallen. And his heresies are spreading. He says the oaths we swear to the Chromeria aren’t binding. It’s a lie from the pit of hell. Go talk to your sponsors and figure out where your loyalties lie. Don’t come back until you know. If you’re not back in a week, you’re cut.” He hesitated. “If that’s acceptable, sir?”
Trainer Fisk had held his tongue the whole time, and now the students looked to him. He was, after all, in charge. He nodded.
Cruxer walked through the trainees with all eyes on him. He picked up Ironfist’s ghotra reverently and folded it carefully, then walked away.
With silence heavy upon them, the rest of the trainees left, too.
Chapter 37
Gavin followed the Third Eye to a clearing not far into the jungle. There was a fire to fend off the coolness of the evening and cheery lanterns hung from the limbs of a jambu tree, the light showing its ripe, pink fruit. Rugs were spread on the ground. A bowl of wine and a larger bowl of figs and jambu and other fruits sat in the middle of the rug.
The Third Eye sat cross-legged on the rug, the movement exposing her legs to the knee. She gestured to the place opposite, and Gavin sat.
“So how did you come here to Seers Island?” Gavin asked. “How does one gain an eye?” He gave her a wry grin.
She ignored him, turning her face to the heavens, praying, blessing her meal. He tried not to stare at her breasts as she took a deep breath. He glanced over at Karris, who was standing guard in the jungle. She glanced at the Third Eye’s breasts, then back to Gavin, nonplussed. You think that was on accident? she asked him with the barest twitch of one eyebrow.
Gavin closed his eyes so as to appear to be praying, too. Some people didn’t like to think their Prism was irreligious.
Nice spot you’ve put me in here, Orholam.
He pretended to finish praying. When he opened his eyes, she was leaning forward-which did distracting things with her low neckline. She said, “I think you’ll want to dismiss your… bodyguard? There are things I wish to speak with you about alone.”
Gavin turned to Karris, who had of course heard everything the woman had said.
“I’m not leaving,” Karris said, “unless those two women with muskets you have stationed in the forest withdraw and I search you for weapons.”
The Third Eye looked off into the jungle. She stood, gracefully. Apparently light-blinded by the lanterns, she didn’t look the right direction. “Clara, Cezilia, is that you? I told you my life is not in danger. My virtue, perhaps. Please withdraw now.” She turned to Karris. “Be my guest,” she said.
Briefly, and not roughly, Karris patted her down. She was a professional. Plus, in that dress, there weren’t that many places the woman could be hiding a weapon.
Before Karris finished, the Third Eye leaned close and spoke to her, too low for Gavin to hear.
Karris blanched. Started, looked at the Third Eye, looked over at Gavin to see if he’d heard.
“You can’t know that,” she said. She was trying to speak low enough that Gavin didn’t hear, but there was too much emotion for her to keep the reins tight. She shot a look over at Gavin as the Third Eye continued.
Then the Seer finished, and a long moment passed.
“I’ll be nearby if you need me, Lord Prism,” Karris said stiffly. Then she withdrew.
The Third Eye took her place across from Gavin once more. His eyes were tight, disturbed. Very few people had that kind of effect on Karris.
“Please,” she said. “Drink. Eat. You’re my guest.”
He began, and she joined him, not saying a word. There was goat cheese with the fruit. A woman came with a loaf of flatbread and a bowl of beans and rice and wild pig in a spicy sauce. Following the Third Eye’s lead, Gavin tore off chunks of bread and used it to scoop up the mixture. She said nothing, though she studied him intently. His attempts at starting conversation met silence. If he didn’t know better, he would have assumed she was deaf.
“What are you doing?” he asked finally.
“I’m waiting,” she said.
“Waiting?”
“It’s coming, sometime tonight. I thought it would be by now, but clearly…”
“So you really do see the future,” Gavin said.
“No,” she said.
Gavin raised his hands. “And yet here you are, predicting the future.” She raised a finger to object, but Gavin cut her off. “Even if not well.”
She smiled. Gleaming white teeth, perfect smile. “Gifts can be curses, can’t they, Lord Prism?”
“I suppo-”
“You’re beautiful,” she said, cutting him off. “Always did like a man with muscles, and the sight of yours has been filling my mind all day. Quite distracting.”
“Um, thank you?”
“Are you a swimmer?” she asked, glancing at the breadth of his shoulders.
“Only when I make mistakes skimming. Which isn’t often.”
Her pupils flared. “I see. You know, that masterful, cocky thing you do makes me want to tie you to my bed and ravish you.” Her eyes trailed over him and Gavin knew she was picturing it in her mind.
Gavin swallowed. There’s no subtle way to adjust yourself when you’re sitting cross-legged. He glanced guiltily over at Karris.
“Exactly,” the Third Eye said. “You need her more than she needs you, Prism. She makes you human.”
She tilted her head down and closed her eyes. The tattoo-and-luxin yellow eye on her forehead glowed, then she opened her eyes as it continued to pulse like a heartbeat. Then it faded.
