Chapter 53

“Naomi’s still not here,” said Lianshi, emerging from her room with her hair wrapped up in a towel, looking slightly green in the face but refreshed from her dip in the grotto pool. “Her bed’s not been touched.”

Scorio sat at the dining table, propping his head on the base of one palm, trying to muster the will to plunge into the pool himself. Last night’s excesses plagued him, and he felt turgid, stale, a headache pounding behind his eyes and with a mouth that tasted like an ashtray.

“Great.” He stared bleakly at the tabletop.

Leonis emerged from his room, dressed in his training robes and looking half-dead. He withdrew a black pill from a small box and popped it into his mouth; a second later Scorio felt his Heart ignite, and the massive man’s face regained some color. “Ah. The perks of being a Great Soul. You ignited yet, Scorio?”

“No.” The last thing he wanted to do was exert his will on reluctant mana.

“Do so. Nothing cleans the system out like a burning Heart. Trust me.”

“Hello? Naomi didn’t come home last night.” Lianshi placed her hands on her hips and stared at them both. “Aren’t you worried?”

Scorio sat up, summoned his Heart, and though it caused his headache to redouble, he forced a modicum of Coal into his core, then willed it to light. It took far more effort than it should have, and he felt his brow prickle with sweat, but the moment the black flames lit up his Heart, he felt the pain and sickliness burn away before the strength that flooded into his system.

“Of course I’m worried,” said Leonis. “But Naomi is an Emberling and tougher than the three of us put together. Wherever she is, she wants to be there. And I respect that.” He paused, eyed Scorio. “Even if I don’t respect the words that offended her so.”

“I was angry,” said Scorio, standing up slowly. “And drunk. She was being negative—”

“So you told her that not everyone in this world is a miserable person,” said Lianshi, repeating what he’d told them last night. “Very smooth. Exactly the kind of thing someone like Naomi would relish hearing.”

“I know, I know, I’d apologize if I could find her. My temper got the better of me.” Scorio knuckled his eyes then sighed. “I bet she returned to the ruins. You guys up for heading down there and looking around?”

“Given the amount of celebrating we did last night? Sure.” Leonis’s jaw cracked as he yawned hugely behind his fist. “Not like I’ve much of an appetite for fine food and wine before lunch.”

“Yes,” said Lianshi. “And when we find her, you’d better let me do the talking. Who knows how upset she is? The mere sight of you might send her into her Nightmare Lady form.”

“Fair enough.” Scorio leaned back, causing his spine to pop, then rubbed at his head. “All right. A swim in the pool, fresh robes, and we can head out. Deal?”

“Deal,” said Leonis. “I’ll join you.”

A knock sounded at the door, stiff and official.

They all froze and glanced at each other.

“Don’t worry,” said Leonis. “Not only is it absolutely normal for tournament winners to head out and celebrate, but I promised to take the fall for last night, and I will. Leave it to me.” He padded over to the door and cracked it open. “Yes?”

A voice sounded from outside, officious and impersonal. “Chancellor Praximar has summoned Cinder Scorio to his office. Is he here?”

Leonis stiffened. “If this is about last night, I can explain.”

“I don’t know what it’s about,” said the man. “Is Cinder Scorio here?”

Leonis reluctantly opened the door wide, and Scorio saw a servant dressed in House Hydra colors standing stiffly in the hallway.

“Here,” said Scorio, stepping forward. “Is there a problem?”

“That is for the chancellor to discuss with you, and not for me to reveal in a public hallway. Please get dressed immediately and accompany me.”

Scorio tongued his cheek, then nodded slowly. “Fine. Give me a few minutes.”

“Very well.”

Leonis accompanied Scorio back to his room. “Listen. Praximar won’t push you on last night. The Academy would be in an uproar if a tournament winner were punished for celebrating. Even the instructors would be offended! But if he gives you trouble, tell him I told you I had permission from Instructor Rex to leave the Academy on a special permit. Put the blame squarely on my shoulders. Understood?”

“Sure.” Scorio shucked his sleeping robes and pulled on some clean ones. “Though something like that would be the Hell Whip’s responsibility, right?”

“Unless Praximar really has it out for you,” said Leonis. “But like I said. Put it on me. I’ve a sterling record. I’ll take the punishment, just like I promised.”

Scorio’s Heart guttered out and a pall of exhaustion fell over him. “We’ll see. Wait for me here? I’ll come right back when he’s done with me.”

“Sure. We’ll be here.”

Scorio stepped out into the common room, where Lianshi was waiting for him. “Listen,” she said quietly. “It’s not uncommon for new House proteges to celebrate like we did. Unofficially it’s almost expected. If he comes down on you hard, appeal to House Chimera. They’ll support you on this.”

“All right.” His stomach felt sharp and bubbly, and he felt each beat of his heart with painful force. “I’ll be back.”

“Luck,” she said, squeezing his arm, then he stepped out into the hallway to follow the messenger.

The way to Praximar’s office was long, but eventually, they found themselves striding down the same hallway he’d walked with Naomi only a week or two ago and up to a set of grand double doors.

Scorio glowered at the messenger’s back as he knocked. If Praximar thought he could expel him for a minor infraction, he was wrong. House Chimera wouldn’t let him go without a fight. He had allies now, an entire House with which to oppose House Hydra and Praximar’s biases.

The messenger stuck his head into the office beyond, spoke quietly, then stepped back out and opened the door for Scorio.

Who entered the massive office, pulse racing, expression neutral, spine stiff, chin raised. The light of First Rust sluiced in through the huge skylight to pool around the massive desk, behind which Praximar lazed, reclining on his armchair with a quill held idly between his fingers. He looked at ease, comfortable in his own skin, iron-gray beard freshly washed and combed, and wearing his authority as comfortably as a man might a new cloak.

“Good morning, Cinder Scorio. Please, have a seat.”

Not the tones of a superior about to hand out a lashing. Scorio’s anger softened as he approached and cautiously took a seat. “You asked to see me, Chancellor?”

“Yes. Congratulations are in order. Chimera’s Principal Recruiter informed me yesterday that you were selected for sponsorship following your splendid showing at the tournament. She has high hopes for you, despite your Heart’s weaknesses, and asked that I sign off on the official papers.”

“Thank you, Chancellor. It’s a great honor.”

“I sent for you yesterday evening, but you weren’t in your chambers, nor could you be found,” said Praximar, tone mild.

Scorio sat up. “Chancellor, about that—”

“Oh, don’t be alarmed, Scorio. You’re hardly the first Cinder to wish to celebrate such a momentous event. I myself remember slipping out of the Academy when House Hydra sponsored me. What a night that was! I’d probably dislocate my hips if I attempted those same excesses today. No, no, don’t worry about that at all.”

Scorio sat back, relief flooding him. “Thank you, Chancellor.”

“I’ve signed the official papers, and you will be receiving a summons to finalize the sponsorship tomorrow, seeing as that’s Firstday. Treasures, private training, the chance to team up with other House Chimera proteges—you’ll be entering a whole new world, Scorio. A realm that most Great Souls in your cohort can only dream about. You’re on the verge of becoming one of your class’s elite. But.”

Scorio froze. “But sir?”

Praximar leaned forward, grimacing as if reluctant to impart bad news. “Yes, there is, unfortunately, a proverbial fly in this ointment. You see, certain facts about your past have been brought to my attention. Facts which paint you in a less than flattering light.”

Scorio stared at the man, mind blank.

“As you know, I have dedicated my life to this Academy. It is the cradle from which all Great Souls spring forth, the genesis of legends, the home of our collective hope. I am a Pyre Lord, but shall never be a Blood Baron, no matter how many vials of rarefied mana I have shipped here from the depths of hell. The ambient mana of Bastion is simply too poor for me to continue advancing, but I have made this sacrifice willingly for the good of our kind.”

Scorio’s heart was lurching about within his chest like a beast seeking to break free of chains. He clutched at the arms of his chair, a rushing wind in his ears.

“So you can imagine how seriously I take the character of the Academy’s elites. They must exemplify the very best of who we are, and allow no stain to be cast upon our reputation. Maintaining our natural superiority over the common people is struggle enough without giving them easy targets, you see. Especially considering our… recent troubles, these past few years. It is my sacred responsibility to safeguard the Academy in every way.”

Was this about his being a Red Lister? But Sol himself had vouchsafed him. What facts about his past—

“So you can imagine how crushed I was when I learned that our most recent House protege has a criminal background.” Praximar steepled his fingers before his lips, expression grave, nearly sorrowful. “That, while in the throes of despair, cast out amongst the ruins and dregs of Bastion’s society, he engaged in organized criminal activities and stole a valuable shipment of Sapphire mana from the Chimera skycrane yards.”

Scorio sat back, his body humming, unable to breathe. Dola. She must have told Praximar. But why? How could he have learned? She worked for House Basilisk; he had no connection to her—

Praximar’s eyes gleamed. “And how terribly ironic that this Cinder should be recruited by the very House he stole from? How utterly disgusted they would be to learn of his crimes. How revolted. What do you think they would do if they discovered this truth? How badly would they react?”

Wait. Praximar wasn’t summarily expelling him. Unless he was being toyed with? “What are you saying?” he managed, voice little more than a rasp.

“What I am saying, dear boy, is that you have placed me in a very, very difficult situation. If I allow bygones to be bygones, your sordid past could rear its head at an inopportune time and sully the entire Academy’s reputation, not to mention that of House Chimera. But if I just cast you out, I’d have to give a reason for your expulsion, and explain how a criminal was allowed to reach such heights and even receive an offer of sponsorship. I would have to apologize personally to House Chimera, for allowing a criminal to receive their consideration. No. A mess all around. Far better for us to take a third option.”

Scorio mastered his confoundment and sat forward. “And what option is that?”

“You agree to lose your next bout in the tournament,” said Praximar, his thin lips curving into a smile. “And you also agree to get no farther than the sixth room in the Gauntlet—if you can even get that far. You don’t push to reach Emberling until you are flushed out of the Academy along with the rest of your cohort’s lower half, and then—well. You can do as you wish as a member of House Chimera.”

Scorio stared at Praximar. He was a hollow vessel. He was a furnace in which burned a colorless flame. He couldn’t think, despite knowing that this was the very moment in which to deploy his keenest wit.

“You’ve no proof,” he managed to croak.

“No proof?” Praximar looked genuinely taken aback. “My boy, do you think I would level such base accusations without evidence? I can summon witnesses, if need be. Guards who were on duty the day of the heist. Kin of the guards who were killed. Even your accomplices, no doubt, could be unearthed and convinced to speak. Oh, don’t you worry about that, my boy. Evidence I have in plenty.”

Memories flickered through Scorio’s mind. The attack on the skycrane yard, his reckless escape, his accomplices fighting off guards—had they killed some? He couldn’t remember.

And then another memory surfaced.

A gray-haired woman, passing through the hexagonal fountain chamber, taking the hallway that led to the instructor’s suites, the meeting rooms—and the executive offices.

Kayla.

“You knew,” he whispered. “You’ve known for weeks. Why now? Why wait?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Praximar with evident satisfaction. “But those are the terms I’m offering you. Lose in the tournament, do not pass the sixth chamber of the Gauntlet, and leave the Academy at the semester’s end. You’ll benefit from the continuous sponsorship of House Chimera, which will no doubt help heal your Heart and prepare you for a good career serving their goals. Or... Defy me, and I tell House Chimera. They’ll retract their offer, and you’ll be left with no hope of progressing, regardless.”

“You’ll not expel me if I refuse?”

“Why bother?” He seemed genuinely amused. “I’ve heard from Hera and can sense myself how weak your Heart has become. Like all hotheaded youths, you mortgaged your future for brief successes today. Without expensive help, you’ll only degenerate further. Your reputation will be ruined by my revelation, and you’ll never receive sponsorship again. You’ll not make Emberling with such a fractured Heart, you’ll crash and burn in the Gauntlet, then be kicked out of the Academy with no future whatsoever. That’s far worse than anything I could do to you, and what’s more, you’d serve as a salutary lesson to your classmates.” Praximar’s eyes glittered. “Who would get to watch you fail and fail again, and witness firsthand the cost of being a bastard of a Red Lister who thought he could play the Academy as he saw fit.”

Scorio clenched the wooden arms of his chair so tightly that the wood creaked. His vision reduced to a narrow tunnel, and all he could see was Praximar’s smug smirk.

“If I don’t receive your oath before the next tournament round, I’ll be forced to inform House Chimera,” said Praximar, sitting upright briskly and taking up his quill again. “Thus you have some time to deliberate if you wish, but we both know what the wise course of action is. I applaud your boldness, Scorio, but unfortunately, you never had a chance.” Praximar fixed him with a bloodless smile. “Nobody threatens the sanctity of my Academy and gets away with it. Nobody. Now go. You’re dismissed.”

And he pulled a blank sheet of parchment before him on which he began to write a letter, his calligraphy elegant and smooth, his expression serene.

Scorio stood very carefully. His breath was coming in shallow pants, and his body felt engorged, filled with a terrible desire to wreak ruin upon Praximar, upon his office. He wanted to scream at the older man, to take up his chair and dash it against Praximar’s brow. For a moment he just stood there, lips pulled back from his teeth, feeling flushed and on the very edge of self-control.

But Praximar was a Pyre Lord. To attack him would be to give the other man all the justification he needed to break every bone in Scorio’s body.

With great control and rigid dignity, Scorio turned away from Praximar. He wanted to leave with some final, biting comment, words that would sear their way into the chancellor’s pitiful conscience and leave the man gasping and wounded, but nothing came to mind.

The truth, Scorio realized as he allowed the double doors to close behind him, was that Praximar had him dead to rights.

He walked back to his suite in a daze. The few people that recognized him en route drew back, brows furrowing, something about his expression warning them off. It seemed to take forever to reach his hallway, to reach his door, an extended trial in not screaming and burying his fist into the closest object.

But he finally got back and stepped inside.

Leonis and Lianshi immediately stood up from where they’d been reading together at the dining table.

“Oh no,” said Lianshi immediately.

“You told him, right?” began Leonis. “You told him it was my idea, my lie, you told him—”

“No,” said Scorio, a shudder passing through him, his whole body trembling like a leaf in a wind of pure rage. “It wasn’t about last night.”

“Then?” Lianshi stepped away from the table, eyes wide. “Scorio? What happened?”

He closed his eyes, lowered his chin to his chest. His whole world reduced to a small, finite space, a quivering mass of white-hot misery and anger.

“Scorio?”

“He blackmailed me,” he heard himself say, voice eerily calm. “Used a crime I committed while out in the ruins. Either I throw my next tournament match and agree to not pass the Gauntlet’s sixth room, or he tells House Chimera.”

The room was still, and when he finally opened his eyes again, he saw both of his friends staring at him in shock.

“But…” Leonis gathered himself, tried again. “You did commit this crime?”

“Yeah,” said Scorio, and with that admission, the strength went out of him. His knees buckled and he lurched to the closest chair. “I did. Remember? What I told you about Dola? I was desperate. It was before I met Naomi. I had no money. No future. No way to support myself. Couldn’t let people know I was a Red Lister, a runaway Great Soul. I did one job. Decided I couldn’t do more, and returned to the ruins.”

“By the ten hells,” said Leonis, sitting across from him. “How did Praximar find out?”

“I don’t know.” Scorio’s anger had turned to ashes, bleak and cold. “I saw an associate of Dola’s here in the Academy in the days after Imogen’s attack. And… last night, Feiyan told me that Dola had been asking around for me after Imogen struck. Guess… guess I became pretty high profile there for a bit, and she went looking for me.”

“And told Praximar?” Lianshi sat lightly on the edge of her seat, brow furrowed. “What connection could she have with the Chancellor of the Academy and Autocrat of House Hydra?”

“He said intra-house criminal network,” said Leonis. “Maybe they’ve worked together in the past.”

Scorio stared blindly at the wall, then blinked. “Actually. Praximar said something that I missed, but which now…”

“What?” prompted Lianshi.

“That he sacrificed his future as a Great Soul for the good of the Academy. That even shipments of high-quality mana aren’t enough to help him advance.”

“And?”

“What I stole was a shipment of high-quality mana.”

The other two exchanged a glance.

“Wait.” Leonis frowned at him. “You think Dola was stealing that shipment for Praximar?”

“I don’t know. It was House Chimera goods, and I thought we were working for House Basilisk. Maybe Basilisk was going to sell it to Praximar, or… who knows? Not that it matters. He says he has evidence. Can prove it.”

“It might matter,” said Lianshi, growing animated. “If we can prove Praximar was involved, then we could get him removed from his post.”

“Prove it?” Scorio turned to stare at her. “How?”

“You said Dola ran the operation, right? We find Dola, force her to confess.”

Scorio blinked. “You think that would work?”

For a moment they sat in silence, then Leonis slowly shook his head. “No. I don’t think it would.”

Lianshi whirled on him. “Why not?”

“Because think of what you’re saying. If this really is an unofficial criminal network that the Houses use, you’re talking about forcing a key player to testify against the Autocrat of House Hydra.”

Lianshi scowled at him. “Right. And?”

Leonis looked almost regretful. “You think the other Houses would allow someone like Dola to testify? Against a fellow Autocrator? Can you imagine how much dirt she must have on them all? What kind of precedent that would set? Think of what we’ve learned of Bastion’s history. How many times has an Autocrator been brought down by a fair trial?”

Lianshi slumped in her seat. “Never that I’ve heard of.”

“Never,” agreed Leonis. “When they come down, it’s due to politics. Not courts.”

Scorio shook his head sharply. “Maybe we could be the first. We capture Dola, get her sworn testimony, present it to…”

“To whom, exactly?” Leonis raised an eyebrow. “The other Autocrators? The City Council? Which is composed of the House elites? They’d kill you a thousand times over for attempting to challenge their authority. It’d be a far greater crime in their eyes than the theft you committed.”

“Damn,” whispered Scorio, slumping back in his chair. “I hate this city.”

“There has to be something,” said Lianshi stubbornly. “We can’t just let Praximar do this.”

They sat in silence. The only sound was the occasional distant drop of water from the grotto, the muffled murmur of voices as groups of students passed outside their front door.

“I don’t see what I can do,” said Scorio at last. “I saw Kayla here. He said he could summon guards from the scene of the crime, accomplices. Hell, he could fabricate as many witnesses as he wanted, and who would gainsay him? I did the crime. Worse yet, I stole from Chimera. The second they hear, they’ll revoke my sponsorship. Without it, I won’t heal. I won’t progress. It’ll take me years to catch up. I’ll wash out of the Academy with the bottom half of the class.” Then he winced. “Not to mention I made a bet with Jova.”

Leonis raised both eyebrows. “A bet with Jova?”

“What are you talking about?” asked Lianshi.

“I… damn it.” Scorio folded his arms on the table and lowered his brow to rest it on them. “Remember when I told you guys to go ahead? I wanted her help in uncovering my past. Asked her to look in her journals. She refused. So I… provoked her into making a bet. Or maybe she provoked me into being… stupid. That if I got further than her in the Gauntlet, she’d help me figure out the riddle.”

Lianshi’s voice was stiff. “And if you lost?”

“I’d leave the Academy.”

Silence. Scorio winced into his folded arms.

“That was a dumb bet,” said Lianshi at last.

“Yeah,” agreed Leonis. “What were you thinking?”

Scorio sat up. “I was angry. She insulted me to my face. Said I was a Red Lister, which meant I’d never be any good. I was flying high off my sponsorship offer, was feeling… I don’t know. Like I could accomplish the impossible. And thought I’d have House Chimera there regardless if I lost, to help me with my training.”

Lianshi sat back in her chair. “So to stay in the Academy, you’d have to renounce the Chimera sponsorship, and then somehow still beat Jova Spike at the Gauntlet run.”

“Or,” said Leonis, perking up, “and this is a bit underhand, but hear me out—Scorio agrees to Praximar’s demands, and throws the tournament. Then he keeps the House Chimera sponsorship, uses their resources to get as strong as he can, and then crushes the Gauntlet run. Jova would be forced to help him with his past, and at that point, he’d not need Chimera that much anymore, so Praximar’s threat would lose its power.”

They all considered Leonis’s plan.

“I don’t like it,” said Lianshi at last. “What’s to stop Praximar from expelling him at that point?”

“He said he wouldn’t,” said Scorio. “That I would better serve as an example to the rest of the cohort by failing my way out and being a warning of what happened if you went against the Academy.”

“But by that point, you’d have won,” said Leonis, leaning forward. “You’d have proven that you were the best.”

“I don’t know,” said Lianshi. “You’d back him into a corner. If he then revealed to House Chimera that he’d known all along you were a criminal—sorry, Scorio—then House Chimera would be furious with him. He’d embroil House Hydra in a heap of trouble for staying quiet.”

“Which is a good thing,” said Leonis.

“Not necessarily. Do you think Praximar would settle for losing like that? Would accept defeat and allow Scorio to be the cohort’s reigning champion? No. If he’s the kind to work with people like Dola, he’d not reveal your background but simply find a more permanent way to remove Scorio.”

Both men stared at Lianshi.

“You’re saying he’d have me killed?” asked Scorio.

“Obviously,” said Lianshi firmly. “He had no qualms tossing you through the Final Door the first time. And if you tricked him and humiliated him? He’d have a Tomb Spark or Flame Vault make you disappear.”

Scorio thought of how Praximar’s eyes had gleamed with quiet joy as he’d blackmailed him, and knew in his heart Lianshi was right.

“So I swear the oath, throw the tournament, use Chimera’s resources to grow as strong as possible—what?”

Lianshi and Leonis had both startled.

“What oath?” asked Lianshi.

“What oath?” Scorio frowned. “He said I had to swear an oath that I’d follow his terms before the next round of the tournament.”

Leonis groaned and draped an arm over his face.

“There goes all our maneuvering,” said Lianshi. “He probably means a Heart Oath. You break that, you rupture your Heart.”

“Rupture my Heart,” croaked Scorio.

“We learned about it in Mana Manipulation,” said Lianshi. “If you think your fractures are bad, wait till you hear what it takes to heal a ruptured Heart.”

“Damn.” Scorio curled his hand into a fist and then slammed it down on the table. “Damn it!”

He leaped to his feet and paced to the far side of the room, where he stopped and glared right through the wall. “So I’ve got no wriggle room. Either I completely agree and flunk out of the Academy, or I defy him, lose the sponsorship, and flunk out anyway.”

No answer from his friends.

What could they say?

He clenched his jaw and fought hard not to smash his fist into the stone wall. Just stood there breathing deeply, powerfully, his chest a furnace, his body filled with the burning desire to break something.

“There has to be a way out,” he whispered. “There just has to be.”

Lianshi’s tone was reluctant. “Praximar will make sure that the oath covers all the angles. You know he’s the type to be careful with the wording.”

“I’m sorry, Scorio,” said Leonis. “I wish I could think of something.”

Scorio closed his eyes tightly and rested his brow against the wall. He felt like a caged wolf, raging against impenetrable bars that surrounded him on all sides.

“There has to be a way,” he whispered. “There just has to.”