TWO HUNDRED FIFTY-TWO: Slumber Party

252

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“You’re here! How did you get here?”

The amount of delight in Stuart’s voice as he dashed across the art’h summonarium toward Alden was ridiculous considering how recently they’d seen each other. It made Alden glad he hadn’t waited until tomorrow morning to come.

“Esh-erdi and Evul,” Alden explained. “He’s been sending me confusing messages over the past couple of hours. Just a few words at a time like, ‘Even a peanut can’t persuade Stu-art’h to enjoy my company more than yours.’ And, ‘I have never been afraid of lightning, but maybe you should be.’ So I knew you two were together…and then a little while ago, I got a teleport from Evul. He must have talked to her, too.”

Alden and Stuart were trying to be somewhat responsible by routing him through the teleportation facility at Matadero for all of his visits. But it was hard for Alden to resist the convenience of leaving directly from the apartment living room when someone else was dangling the offer in front of him. He’d only just returned from North of North when Evul’s message came. After stuffing his feet back in his sneakers and saying goodbye to Lute and Haoyu, here he was.

He’d donated all of that money to Anesidora’s teleportation infrastructure; he figured he could do this several more times before he developed feelings of guilt about the cost of his personal travel.

“Where have you been?” he asked. “And why was Esh-erdi there?”

We definitely look like we’ve had different evenings.

Stuart wore very dark green harem pants and a short coat in the same color with paler green and gold leaves embroidered around the hem and cuffs. The mark that indicated he was a declared was on one shoulder. Alden was in a t-shirt and shorts.

“I went to a ceremony at DawnStep to renew my oaths,” said Stuart. “Lind-otta and Esh-erdi were there, but renewal was probably their secondary motivation. During Welcome End, many knights make a point of doing something to acknowledge the ones who will soon join them. Lind-otta and Esh-erdi were able to meet some declared and encourage them.”

Oaths.

“What was the ceremony like?”

“It was a good one. Let’s not talk about it here, though. I’d rather avoid answering my family’s concerns about why I decided to go to a ceremony suddenly and why that ceremony and whatever else they can think of. A summonarium is not a place to be in if I want to avoid people.”

On the way down to the cottage, Stuart brought up the note Alden had left for him in their study journal. Actually, he quoted the whole thing from memory. Alden was glad he’d considered his words for so long before he wrote it.

“What does my family truly know about the project of building myself? And do they know anything at all about the project of our friendship?” Stuart was saying as he slid open the cottage door. “They certainly act as if they know more than me, but how can they?”

“That’s what I was getting at.” Alden dropped his Forgetful Traveler’s bag beside the low table and took a seat on the teal pillow that was his favorite of the butt-friendly cushions in the cottage. “That you might want to ask yourself those question, not that I had opinions about what you should decide the answers were.”

“Tonight I wouldn’t mind hearing your opinion about my family’s qualifications to judge my decision making.”

Too much pressure, man. I think I know what you’d like to hear right now, but I can’t just say, ‘Olorn-art’h is totally wrong. Jozz-art’h is a dork. Rel-art’h doesn’t get you as well as I do! Ignore them no matter what the cost!’

“The bricks I was talking about in the journal are our abilities, our wants, and the things we’re confident in,” he said instead. “My brain steeped in that topic a lot last night on the path—how when I was younger I built a tower out of these confidence bricks that were made of my image of myself and who I imagined I’d be when trouble came. And that did give me a sense of pride and a direction, so those weren’t bad bricks, but most of them crumbled over this past year. They were too weak for what came my way. Now I’m trying to make stronger bricks. And my tower’s currently like…”

He held his hand an inch above the table.

“Only this big,” he said wryly. “But I hope it’s the kind of tower that won’t crumble.”

“I think I prefer stone towers to brick ones.”

“Your tower can be built of whatever you want.”

Stuart made himself a cup of tea then sat down across from Alden, who’d just pulled out a pack of square-cut paper and dropped it on the table. He reached for the yellow top sheet. “You were going to tell me about the oath ceremony.”

“The event went well. None of the new ones failed their oaths, so all eleven of them are declared now.”

“Some people fail?”

Problem number nine hundred and ninety-nine—what if I’m discovered one day and the Triplanetary government decides the only way I’m allowed to keep breathing the free air is if I complete knight oaths, but I’m one of the ones who fails?

“Sometimes a person lacks a conviction they need,” Stuart said, “or they have one that is unacceptable. We shape our oaths using a series of memories we’ve all witnessed in preparation. There’s one about a wizard’s vengeance against someone who killed his family. It’s good for a hn’tyon to empathize with the wizard’s suffering, but his use of his power to torture his enemy must be strongly rejected. That memory is one that helps define our understanding of the oath not to cause purposeless harm. A person might think the wizard’s <<emotional release>> was enough of a purpose for his actions, but then they would be rejected from the <<communion>> of the ceremony. Someone who felt that way would fail.”

Well, I could make an oath like that, but that’s a simple one. A ceremony designed to kick you out if you’re too different to be in communion with other knights sounds terrifying. Even if I wasn’t worried about being deemed a danger to society or something, imagine trying it and finding out that…

“How many people were at the ceremony?”

“Several hundred.”

Imagine trying it and finding out that several hundred knights think you have crappy morals.

Stuart held his cup close to his nose and inhaled the steam rising from it. He hadn’t drunk any of it. He seemed more interested in using it as a hand warmer. “There was another oath ceremony happening here in Rapport I around the same time. I’m glad I went to DawnStep instead. I liked meeting the declared from outside the Rapports. They have such a variety of backgrounds and reasons for wanting to walk the path of highest onus.”

“Had you not met any declared like that before?”

“A few in passing when I went to DawnStep to visit family. If I was a student there, I would see them much more often, but I still wouldn’t know any of them well. Our elders advise the two groups not to become attached. Meetings should be swift and casual or structured and formal. They have separate housing on campus and different times to use the training facilities. If they attend a class with a declared from a Rapport, they aren’t supposed to be learning partners.”

Alden had been listening too closely, and worrying too much about how his morals compared to a high-intensity alien standard, to put more than a couple of folds in his sheet of paper. “That sounds awkward for everyone.”

“I think it is,” said Stuart. “But there’s no way to avoid it. Most of them have different needs than Rapport-born knights do in the early years, so blending us together would create more problems than separating us. For example, now that Welcome End has begun, it will be surprising if more than three or four people in the Rapports who’ve decided to undergo first binding this season change their minds. Here, the declared have ideas about who their first squad will include. They’ve been getting closer to one another and seeking out compatible partners ever since the end of their choosing seasons.”

He said it like it was just a fact. Alden had no idea how he managed that sometimes…talking casually about these important things that he had missed out on and was still missing out on.

“But for outsiders, becoming declared introduces them to a new community and new choices. Give me a moment to look up the latest number with my eyerings.” Stuart lowered the teacup back onto the table but kept his hands wrapped around it. “Right now, there are twelve hundred and thirty-five people saying they will go to first binding before the winter. Last year, there were a similar number at the start of the Welcome End for the northern Rapports, and almost seventy of them delayed or changed their paths.”

Seventy wasn’t huge considering how natural it would be, in Alden’s opinion, to get last minute cold feet about affixation. But if only three or four of those who backed out were from the Rapports… “Almost everyone who’s not sure at this point is an outsider.”

“That’s right. It’s understandable. Despite declaring and preparing themselves, they haven’t been immersed in the decision like we are, and they were recently introduced to opportunities they weren’t aware of. Since they’ve completed their oaths, they’ll also definitely be welcomed to live among us as a votary. It’s something that will appeal to some of them.”

“Would they not have been welcome to do that before?”

“If they’re above average wizards, willing to complete an education in needed areas and swear to serve, yes. But they’re not all talented enough to enter Rapport service that way and become the type of votary you’re familiar with. Even though they’re DawnStep students, only a few of them would be accepted at such a prestigious school through the regular entrance examinations. But exceptional wizardry isn’t everything. We also have people like Enyl-tirg living here.”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Enyl-tirg who made our learning cushions. The craftswoman?” Alden looked across the cottage to where the cushions were.

“She lives in Root,” Stuart said. “Her abilities as a wizard aren’t impressive, but she’s still a votary because she has devoted those abilities to making learning cushions and performing thread enchantment for the people of this Rapport.

“Even if her artistry one day becomes famous and surpasses that of the finest craftspeople on Artona I, she will make no fortune for herself. When I asked if she would create a gift for you, she was happy to do it, but because I’m not a knight yet and I wanted your gift to truly be from me, personally, instead of from my family, I had to figure out how to pay the Rapport for her efforts. I cleaned expired potion and spell ingredients out of cabinets and supply rooms all over the village.”

That Stuart had bartered for the learning cushion by going around and cleaning everyone’s cupboards was a better backstory for it than Alden could have imagined.

“I didn’t think it was possible to like my cushion more, but now I do.”

Stuart beamed. “Enyl-tirg will be glad. You can meet her sometime if you want. We don’t recruit wizards to the Rapports to do jobs like hers, but of course we want people with her character among us.”

“Like the outsider declared.”

“Yes. Most outsiders who inform the Rapports that they’d like to be knights are attracted to the path for the wrong reasons. Their numbers are pruned and pruned again, until eventually the candidates are known to be serious and have proper intentions. At that point, they’re invited to consider serving with us in other ways that suit them. Some don’t feel they can be useful if they aren’t knights, so their mentors try to show them there are other places among us for people so committed. Like Enyl-tirg’s life. The Primary takes his children to her for their first learning cushions, and she has two children of her own who’ve just begun attending the Rapport school. Her descendants are likely to become knights and votaries. Her presence here strengthens us.”

To Alden, it sounded like the Rapports tried to make outsiders have a belated and abbreviated choosing season of their own.

“Because their <<cohort>> loses a significant number of members before first binding, they shouldn’t be doing the same things declared do here in the Rapports,” Stuart said. “It’s too soon for them to be imagining future squads and searching for deeply compatible people. I’m sure many of them do anyway, but the element of uncertainty makes it impractical….There’s also more uncertainty about their survival.”

The remnants of his smile faded.

“Their deaths will outpace ours in the early years. It’s much better than the old ways, but far from perfection. We’re still experimenting with things like squad size. Small groups that stay together for a while seem to be best for most Rapport-born newlings, but they’re trying a different method for the outsiders now. They’re working in larger groups with more frequent member swapping at first, and then they form lasting squads later. Or they form pairs that go together to different squads.”

Stuart stared into his cup. “One of the new declared is named Yaril. She’s going to send me a message after first binding to let me know she’s well. She has a brother who’s already a knight, so she is probably better prepared than most.”