Alison Goodman - Eon - Dragoneye Reborn

'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 being chosen by the Rat Dragon. I felt my own hope wither. In one bold act, Lord Ido had secured the support of Heuris Kane, Baret and their powerful families, asserted his authority over the Council, and cowed us, the other candidates. No wonder my master called him treacherous. The ruthless efficiency of his tactics made me shiver. But at least I was not crying, like Quon.

Lord Ido straightened, his body and breath back to normal. He glanced at Baret.

'Be still,' he snapped.

Immediately, Baret stopped rocking, a whimper of pain escaping as he lifted his head.

'Last night, the Dragoneye Council ruled that the ceremony has become too removed from the traditions of our esteemed ancestors,' Lord Ido said, and from his tone it was plain that it was his ruling and the Council had just fallen into line. He started to pace along the row. 'It was decided that there will be a return to ceremonial combat rather than exhibition.'

It took a moment for his words to make sense. Ceremonial combat? Fighting. I would have to fight someone? I felt my body lock into icy panic.

'You can't do that,' Quon sobbed, desperation making him rash. 'We haven't trained for it.'

Lord Ido rounded on him. 'Mewling coward,' he snarled. 'You are not worthy of the Rat Dragon.'

Quon dropped into a kowtow, his forehead hitting the floor with a crack. Lord Ido eyed him for a moment then resumed his pacing.

'According to a very popular historical scroll, the ascending 1)ragoneye can invoke ceremonial combat if the Council agrees.' 1 lis eyes swept along the row and found me. An old variation in the Chronicles of Detra.'

I looked away from his malicious smile.

He motioned to the two men standing at the ramp. Although they were clad in head-to-toe armour, I recognised the arrogant swagger of the stockier figure.

Ranne.

My innards cramped in familiar fear. Were we going to fight Ranne? But he was a master.

Then it all made terrible sense. Baret was Ranne's favourite. Lord Ido was leaving nothing to chance.

'I am told that you have all trained with Swordmasters Ranne and Jin-pa,' Lord Ido said as they approached him and bowed. 'They will share the honour of sparring with you for the pleasure of the Rat Dragon and our most Heavenly Emperor.'

Ranne turned to look at us, a gloved hand on his hip. Instead of the usual lacquered leather he wore during training, his armour was made of metal scales, the helmet edged with a curtain of mail to protect the neck, the polished breastplate engraved with the character for valour.

'This will be similar to the combat training we have done all year,' he said. 'However, the sequences will not be in order of

ascendance. They will be random. Do you understand? Swordmaster Jin-pa and I may start with the Rat sequence, or the Ox sequence or the Horse sequence. It will be different for each of you. All of the twelve sequences will be used, but not in the order of ascendance. A good test of reflexes and anticipation.'

A low murmur of apprehension rolled along the row. Most of our training had been directed towards a solo exhibition of the sequences in strict order. Not in combat training. Not in random order.

Jin-pa stepped out from behind Ranne. His breastplate bore the character for duty. I had only ever worked with him once; a fair man who had shown me how to adapt a kick for my lame leg. He took his helmet off, tucking it under his arm. The padding had made indentations on his long face, giving him the look of a kindly death's-head.

'Boys, do not be alarmed. You know all of the sequences. It is now just a matter of trusting your training and letting your movements flow from your Hua,' he said bracingly 'The rules of ceremonial combat are just the same as training combat — contact with the flat of the sword or the butt of the handle only. And remember, this is about showing your technique and stamina. Concentrate on recognising the first forms of each sequence, then —'

Ranne shifted irritably 'They're as prepared as they're going to be,' he interrupted, ignoring Jin-pa's dark look. 'Now it is time to meet the challenge and do honour to their masters and ancestors.'

'Well said, Swordmaster Ranne,' Lord Ido said, waving Jin-pa back. 'Will you spar with the odds or the evens?'

Ranne stared down the line as if considering his decision. I saw his gaze flicker over Baret through the eye slits of his helmet. How early in our training had Lord Ido planned all this?

'Evens,' Ranne said.

Foul acid rose into my throat. Number four — the number of death. Had Ranne drawn it for me knowing I would be at his mercy?