43. Silver Pt. 1

  The bronze tournament was uneventful, except to say that the Majeeshans were once again overly represented in the victors. It wasn’t a complete shutout. The foundation tournament hadn’t been either, for that matter, with three Atlians placing in the top ten of the foundation tournament and four placing in the bronze.

  But the Majeeshans excelled in this sort of competition and were eager to earn a place in this new world to which they had been summoned. So many had seen this as an opportunity to prove themselves that I’m told that even with the extra allotments we allowed them, the tournament to decide the Six Mountain Sect’s contribution to the tournament’s lower levels was especially cut throat.

  Both the foundation and the bronze tournaments were definitively won by Majeeshans, however, and the audience was beginning to boo when a Majeeshan emerged in their black and gold gi, which they wore with pride despite the reception. I frowned, because I didn’t want this sort of discrimination taking root on Atla between the natives and the refugees I’d brought back with me, but I couldn’t think of anything to do to stem it.

  Then a boy that I recognized took the stage, and I smiled.

  Hopefully, Toorah had grown as much as I’d hoped he had. Because if he had kept pace with his early lessons, then he would give any silver-ranked Majeeshan a run for the championship.

  “Say, if I were to place a bet on one of the competitors,” I asked Di Tonilla in a conversational voice, “How do you think that would effect the outcome?”

  Tonilla frowned.

  “If you were known to have bet on them, it would place intense pressure on them and they would either be intimidated or driven to extreme lengths to prove your faith in them,” she said. “As for the public, I anticipate that many would bet with you, as they would trust your foresight. Some might take advantage of the odds and bet against you, especially if the contestant you bet upon was Majeeshan. If you told me more I could predict the outcome better.”

  “No, that’s enough,” I said. I spun off an avatar.

  “I require a thousand gold coins,” my avatar said. Di Tonilla sighed and wrote me a slip.

  “You’re going to make a show of this, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “It’s for his own good,” I said, smiling.

  ~~~~~~~

  Toorah blinked as the punch he delivered to the Majeeshan clicked in a way that it seldom had during practice and it was more than a punch. It was an expression of himself on a fundamental level.

  The opponent staggered under the weight of his dao, and he realized that was what it was. This was his dao that he had just brushed up against.

  He was so caught up on the lesson that his polite bow of thanks for the instruction that he gave his opponent was misinterpreted by the crowd as one of claiming the victory, as the opponent not only staggered, but fell. And failed to rise again.

  It was not a fatal blow, but a profound one, and he received six points even before the judge counted to ten and decided that he had won because the opponent could not rise. Toorah turned to the cheering crowd, cheering him because he was Atlian and because he was victorious, and he bowed to them as well before walking off the sands of the coliseum.

  He was pleased to have won. Because of his placement on the lists, he would not have to fight again tomorrow, but then he would face two matches on day three. It was disadvantageous to him, especially because whoever his opponent on day three was, it would be someone who had fought round two on day two, while Toorah would be fighting his round two opponent on day three and his round three opponent later that same day.

  It was frustrating, but that was the way the list had been drawn and his name hadn’t been assigned to the position until he’d drawn his lot, so he couldn’t claim that the organizers were discriminating against him personally. If he had drawn a better lot, then maybe he wouldn’t have had to fight twice on the same day, but he might have also faced a stronger opponent and been knocked out of competition already.

  Instead, he felt that he had learned something profound, and as he retired to the inn where the others from Litha who were there accompanying him. He smiled and bowed to his sponsors politely, and they celebrated briefly by pouring him a sparkling fruit juice and expressing their joy in his accomplishment. After thirty minutes of their companionship, he requested to spend the rest of the night in seclusion.

  The rules would change further into the tournament. After the third day, there would be only sixteen matches, and they would be allowed to use the entire coliseum floor for their matches instead of having it divided into thirds.

  The next day, the time limit would be tripled, with a match being allowed to go for a full hour so long as the contestants could continue to fight.

  Then, there would be four matches with those same rules on day six,

  On day seven, the semifinals.

  On day eight, the championship.

  He was not expecting to make it that far, if he was being honest with himself. His Master had told him that to go into the city would lead him to glory, but he knew his limits. His master’s words had set him on this path, but that did not mean that it was the path he was meant to follow. He was just taking the opportunities he saw in front of him as they presented themselves.

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  He meditated on that one moment of perfect clarity where his path to victory was also the path that he had walked so far and the path that he would walk tomorrow and the next day . He had brushed on this path before, but never so clearly as today.

  Lost in thought, he did not hear the excitement of his companions in the common room, and they did not pass him word of what caused their commotion until the next day.

  When he learned that the city, and the world, was abuzz with the fact that the Worldfather himself had placed a thousand gold coin bet on a boy whose name meant Another One to win the tournament.

  He vomited twice that day with the stress that caused him, especially as word came in about the ripple effects that it was having as people bet not so much on him, but on the Worldfather. Or against the Worldfather, as quite a few chose to do.

  He was shaking with nerves all throughout his rest day, but fortunately his sponsors gave him something to drink which put him right to sleep.

  On the next day, he woke rested and surprisingly steady. And he made his way to the Coliseum with pride.

  His master believed in him, so he’d believe in himself.

  His master believed in this path that he was on. It wasn’t just his hopes and dreams that he had interpreted the meaning behind the vision at the crossroads the right way, his master believed that he could win this tournament! He must have, to have bet such a large fortune on Toorah’s success.

  Toorah had a sudden shock as he realized something. Competitors received a take of what was bet on them if they won. It was a small take, only ten percent, but that was still one hundred golden coins that he’d earn if he fulfilled his master’s expectations.

  And that might go up if he did well in the coming matches, he thought.

  He swallowed nervously and waited with the other Silvers in the waiting area before his name was called. He didn’t have very long to wait, and he followed the tournament official outside. He channeled his Qi into the crystal formation, just enough to make it glow as he’d been instructed, then entered the ring.

  A Majeeshan girl stood before him. She was maybe sixteen or seventeen, with short black hair but a definitively feminine face and body. An athletic build, as most Majeeshan girls had. Those Majeeshans who were more voluptuous had a tendency to bind their breasts, but this girl had no need of that.

  He shook his head, focusing on that moment of clarity he’d had the day before. This was his opponent for the duel, not someone he should consider flirting with! Although if those things were not mutually exclusive…

  “You are very beautiful. I shall try not to bruise your face, for it would be a shame to mar something so wonderful,” he said.

  The girl scowled at him, and suddenly she was not so beautiful he thought. And she spoke back to him in the Majeeshan tongue and he realized that neither of them could understand the other.

  Oh well, they were here for the same reason, and the language of combat was universal.

  The judges announced the start of the battle, and the three rings burst into violence all at once.

  The opponent started the battle with a lightning bolt. Toorah was surprised and barely managed to block it with a shield of Qi, but that had revealed her hand. He had been warned that many Majeeshans used lightning, so he was not as unprepared for it as he might have been otherwise.

  He knew from his master that the easiest way to defeat lighting was to ground it, and so he conjured a spear from the metal in the sand and stuck it into the ground. When the next lightning bolt came, it struck the spear, because the spear contained the concept of a lightning rod and it overcame the girl’s concept of her lightning behaving as she wanted it to and striking him.

  He grinned, then conjured a whip of flames. She likely expected to settle this at a distance, and he was just fine with that.

  She danced about, shooting her lightning at him as he lashed at her, directing her where he wanted to go even as her own techniques were hard countered by the lightning rod. The crowd was cheering, and when he scored a strike against her thigh, pulling her off balance and landing her in a pit of quicksand that he had set up in advance, they all burst out in cheer as she vanished beneath the surface.

  She fought her way to the surface, gasping and trying to swim. After a few moments, she said something and the judge intervened.

  “She has conceded,” he announced, flying over and pulling her out of the pit.

  The crowd roared in approval to see another Atlian advance further into the tournament. Toorah stepped forward to shake her hand. The quicksand was back to being regular sand at this point, and it was falling off of her and out of her clothes. She glared at him, and his offered hand, but reluctantly shook it.

  He smiled at her and winked. She said something, and the judge laughed.

  “What did she say?”

  “She said that she has prayed to Atla and is wondering if you have done the same,” the judge translated.

  Toorah abruptly blushed brightly.

  “Tell her that I’m not ready to be a father yet,” he said. “But I thank her for thinking of me that way.”

  The judge said something in Majeeshan, and the girl shrugged and walked out of the arena. Around them, the techniques and the combat of the other two duels continued unabated.

  They had finished quite early, and Toorah watched the competitors for just a moment before walking back to the entrance.

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