hard edge of the hidden coin dug into the back of my thigh, the pain joining the hot pulsing in my hip and shoulder. I felt my master's gaze still on me, but I did not look up. There was nothing in his face that I wanted to see.
CHAPTER 4
We knelt on the floor for two hours. For the first hour, I carefully tensed and relaxed my muscles from toes to scalp — a method my master had taught me to keep my body warm and flexible. By the second hour, the cold was overcoming my efforts, locking my joints. Even my fingers felt taut, as though the bitterness had driven heavy liquid into the knuckles. I made tight fists, and released, welcoming the sting of warmer blood.
To my right, Quon was shifting against his haunches, his face twisted into a grimace. On the other side, Lanell was working his hands like creeping caterpillars up and down the front of his thighs, bunching the silk.
Suddenly, at the top of the ramp, a ball of excited voices unravelled into a single, harsh shout.
'Get out of my way'
A group of officials burst out of the rampway and clustered into a grey barricade, halting the progress of a tall, solidly built man. An older official stepped forwards, his large ruby pin of rank catching the light. He bowed low.
'Lord Ido, no further! Please.'
What was Lord Ido doing here? It was against tradition for the ascending Dragoneye to have contact with the candidates. I had only ever seen him from afar playing his part in official ceremonies, his features smudged by distance. Now he was just lengths away. Along the row, the other candidates stirred, heads lifting at the disturbance.
I squinted, trying to distinguish more detail against the bright glare of the ramp opening. He wore his oiled black hair in the double queue of the Dragoneye, looped high into a knot at the crown of his head. I caught the planes of his face as he moved, broad strokes painted by light and shadow: a high scholar's brow, a long nose like the foreign devils the Emperor had allowed into the city, and a heavy jaw made pugnacious by a jutting dark beard. But it was the menacing power in his body that made the officials scatter before him. Lord Ido did not move like a Dragoneye. He moved like a warrior.
He swept a way through the officials, using his forearm to knock the slighter men aside.
Every move was decisive, with none of the careful conservation of energy that marked the other Dragoneyes. Although he wore the traditional robes of the Ascendant, they did not obscure the line of his body; the cutaway coat of deep blue silk — the costly fabric barely discernible beneath heavy gold embroidery — showed the breadth of his shoulders and chest, and the pale blue trousers, cross-bound from ankle to knee, accentuated the muscular shape of his legs. I dropped my gaze to the ground.
'Move,' he ordered. 'I will see the candidates.'
I straightened, and knew that all along the row every candidate filled his chest and lengthened his spine as Lord Ido approached.
The old official scurried ahead of him. 'Lord Ido,' he announced to us, trying to wrest back some protocol.
Beside me, Quon hurriedly dropped into a deep bow. I followed, holding myself a finger-length above my swords,
wide eyes reflected in one polished blade, bloodless lips in the other.
'Greetings, Lord Ido,' we chanted.
'Sit back,' he said. 'Show me your faces.'
Obediently we all rose from our bows, eyes properly lowered.
His feet, in gold-painted shoes, passed by me. I chanced a quick look up at him, expecting to see his back. Instead, our gazes met, and I saw the strange pale amber of his eyes.
'Who are you, boy?'
'Eon, lord.'
He studied me for a moment. It was like being staked out, naked and helpless, under the burn of the sun.
'Brannon's cripple,' he finally said. 'Be ashamed. You rob an able-bodied boy of his chance.'
I heard the intake of breath along the line of candidates, but my own air was gone — knocked out of me like a blow to the stomach. Even if I was to win the attention of the Rat Dragon, Lord Ido would never accept me as his apprentice. I shrank back, curling into a smaller target, but he was done with me. Slowly he paced along the row until he stopped in front of Baret in tenth position.
'You are Kane's candidate?' he demanded.
'Yes, lord,' Baret said.
A yelp of outrage and the sound of scuffling snapped us out of our stiff obedience. Quon shuffled forwards to peer down the line. I hesitated, but then rose onto my knees, craning above Lanell, who was bobbing around to find a clear view.
The old official was pulling at Lord Ido's arm, trying to release the Dragoneye's hands that were cupped around Baret's head.
'Lord Ido, you go too far,' he cried.
Away, fool.' Lord Ido shook off the old man's grip, 'You answer to me now'
'No. The Council is still Lord Meram's.' The official ducked back and grabbed at Lord Ido's arm. 'You shall not influence the ceremony'
Lord Ido swung his free hand and there was the wet crack of knuckles hitting flesh. The official fell to his hands and knees, his cheek split over the bone. He shook his head, spraying blood into the air like a dog shaking off water. Lord Ido glared at the lesser officials who had gathered behind their colleague.
'Lord Meram stepped down in my favour last night. I am the Ascendant, and the Council leader. Do any of you stand against me?'
One after the other, the officials cowered into bows.
Lord Ido grunted and jerked his head at the prostrate official. 'Take him away'
Two men hurried across and helped the old man to stand. Lord Ido spun back to face us.
'Get in line,' he ordered.
We scrambled into our positions, the row subtly curving as everyone shifted to watch Lord Ido. He placed his hands on Baret's head. What was he doing? Uneasy whispering rippled through the ranks of officials. Lord Ido took a deep breath and seemed to draw himself upwards as though dragging energy from the earth. Then I was slammed back against my heels by the power that burst from him.
It was as though his flesh had become glass. I saw the seven points of power in his body, pulsing in their own colours from spine to crown: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and purple. All of them connected by silvery-white streams of Hua surging through him from ground to hands and into Baret. ln all of this bright rushing glory, my mind's-eye was drawn to the green heart-point in his chest. The centre of compassion. It was smaller, duller, its flow of Hua thin and stuttering.
And then it was all gone.
I slumped forwards, sucking in air, feeling the puzzled eyes of Quon and Lanell on me. Lord Ido was doubled over, gasping, his face ashen. He looked up and for a second our gazes met, his shrewd eyes widening as he saw that T had been affected by his power. Then his attention was caught by the arrival of two men at the opening of the ramp.
Quon grabbed my shoulder, his fingernails digging through the silk.
'What did he do to him?' he hissed. We both looked at Baret, who was rocking and moaning, his head buried in the cradle of his arms. 'What did you see?'
'I think he marked Baret with his own Hua.'
Quon let go of me. 'Surely that's not allowed. It must be against the rules.'
He turned to the officials, but they were all on their knees staring at the floor. His body sagged.
'It's not fair,' he said, his voice tiny with defeat. 'He's stacking the odds.'
Quon was right. If Lord Edo had marked Baret with his own Hua, then Baret had a much greater chance of
