Two-World Traders (progression fantasy)

It was a test of two parts.

The first was administered by High Collector Zylas. Alone in what appeared to be an empty classroom (there were desks, but they were arranged in a circle), Elias answered as many questions as he could regarding the history of collectors and the customs of the Valshynar. In the end, High Collector Zylas concluded that Elias had a reasonable grasp on the former—particularly given his "disconnected upbringing"—but that his understanding of the latter required refinement. Elias only asked whether he had "passed."

He was directed to the second test and the man leaning against the doorframe. Lucas flicked a copper over his shoulder and caught the whirling coin behind his back. On their way out together, Elias mentioned that he could do that one too and was offered an opportunity to prove it.

"You didn't use your sight for that, did you?" Lucas inquired.

"No fancy tricks." Elias handed back the coin. "Just old-fashioned ones. I learned to shoot scrap metal and catch coppers at a young age. Always had a knack for it."

"Hmph." Lucas looked like he had a thought.

Elias caught onto it. "You don't think that had anything to do with me being a collector, do you? Were my abilities somehow seeping through, even back then, before I could realize them? Does that happen?"

"What does the fetus see from the womb?" Lucas pondered.

* * *

It was midafternoon when Elias stepped back outside, returning to the gardens alone with Lucas, and the air was still warmer than it should have been. He had not slept since the previous morning—in the comfortable confines of his new apartment in Sailor's Rise—though he couldn't say whether his time zone had shifted one way or the other. He felt stretched over too many hours, too many meetings, too many tests, like a piece of dough tearing under the roller.

"Here we are." Lucas stopped them inside a large, circular stone ring. The ring was near the edge of a bluff overlooking the ocean, heavy waves crashing below them. A tall, yellowing maple textured the stone with a patina of fallen leaves.

Elias kicked up a few in satisfying fashion. "What exactly is the purpose of this place?" There were no buildings nearby—the Gray Academy was a stately fixture in the background—only more maples and the endless ocean.

"Practicing," Lucas replied. "And testing."

It was on this note that Elias heard more leaves crunching. Whirling around, he found the source of the sound, a distant figure walking toward them. The approaching individual was slender, short, and dressed in the usual Valshynarian attire. A woman, he quickly surmised.

"Elias, meet Harriet Thorn," Lucas said.

Harriet was half a head shorter than the two men, with auburn hair and unmistakably emerald eyes. Elias got a closer look at her as she stopped in front of them. She appeared roughly his age, with a button nose, a mole on her cheek, and a certain playful intensity in her gaze—a quality she shared with the man standing between them. In any event, Elias did not dislike what he saw.

"Harriet, meet Elias Vice." Lucas patted him on the back.

She reached forward with a small hand, overcompensating with a firm handshake.

"Nice to meet you, Harriet." Elias firmed up his side of the gesture accordingly.

"Lucas told me a bit about you," she said. "I don't think I've ever met a rogue collector before." It did not sound quite like a criticism—more like something entertaining, exotic, interesting.

"I wasn't rebelling against anything," Elias clarified. "I was just living my life."

"Harriet ascended this past summer," Lucas informed him. "There were a handful of young collectors who ascended this year, but I believe Harriet is the most promising among them. I'm told we're not supposed to pick favorites, but you know me."

Elias did not really know Lucas, though he was getting a better sense of him.

"Now for your second test." Lucas walked over to a wide oak chest at the edge of the ring, kicked opened the container with his foot, then return to them carrying two carved sticks. He handed one to Harriet, then thwacked the second against Elias's chest.

"You two are going to duel. The rules are simple. Do not step outside this ring"—Lucas drew a circle in the air with his index finger—"and do not get hit by your opponent's stick."

Elias accepted and stared at the wooden practice weapon. It was roughly the length of a sword. "I should mention I haven't slept in…" He shrugged. "I'm not at my best."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"We'll bear that in mind," Lucas assured him. "If you wish to do this tomorrow, we have accommodation at the academy. You're welcome to stay the night. Harriet isn't going anywhere."

"I'm easy," she confirmed.

Elias considered it, but he was pretty sure the House of Merchants would be convening tomorrow. While he was not required to attend every legislative session, he had not told anyone else at The Two Worlds Trading Company who might attend in his stead, and he imagined they would be announcing new sitting members. Absence would have been a bad look, and besides, he wanted to be there. "It's fine," he said. "I need to return to Sailor's Rise as soon as possible, assuming you let me."

"One step at a time," Lucas said, clapping his hands together. "Right, then. I am rather excited to witness this. I do love a good duel."

That much, at least, Elias knew about Lucas.

Harriet moved into position as her sparring partner, who was new to this, banged his stick on the stone ground a few times for good measure. It seemed solid enough. He had never practiced dueling with sticks before. He and Briley had only ever used the dull rapiers they'd discovered below deck on The Sapphire Spirit, which is to say it would take some getting used to. The weight was wildly different—more evenly distributed and a lot heavier—and he was not used to fighting with two hands, though he was strong enough to wield it in one, being the ascendant collector he was.

As Harriet was. At least this wasn't his first time fighting a fellow collector. A man learned things fighting for his survival, things a practice duel could never teach, or so he liked to believe. Lucas retreated to the grass and waited for them to begin.

Elias stepped forward with his stick in a guard position, waiting for Harriet to make the first move, to get a read on Lucas's "favorite" apprentice. Alas, he had made the mistake of thinking he might ease into this fight, that he could evaluate his opponent before putting in a proper effort. That assumption would cost him quickly.

Harriet knocked his stick aside as Elias created distance between them. She closed it faster than any normal fighter, sliding the base of her weapon against the weak end of his. She practically whipped the wooden sword out from his hand, then poked him in the shoulder before he could recover his guard.

"Not the most promising start, Elias," their audience of one commented, seating himself on the chest. And just as they had years ago, his words injected Elias with a juvenile impulse to impress Lucas. Perhaps the younger man was more self-aware of it now, but the feeling remained. The feeling motivated him.

Elias centered himself and found his focus. Sleep could have tomorrow.

At his best, he could feel where his sight beckoned him—the right parry at the right time, a dodge no wider than it needed to be—for if he looked to his gift for instruction instead, he would receive it too slowly, chasing answers only as they died at the edge of Harriet's would-be blade.

She was fast, faster than anyone he had ever fought before. Harriet was like Lucas, he concluded, blessed with a speed that would have placed her in the Silver Sanctum School had she been born a couple of generations earlier.

But Elias possessed an even rarer skill. He settled into it, feeling the intention of his movements, his strikes and his parries, never giving them more energy than they required. She could be quick, but he could be economical. He used this to his advantage, baiting her into big swings that only added to her exhaustion.

Finally, he dodged—through the breeze of a close call—what would have been an easy and obvious parry, bringing him near to her. Even so, Harriet was still too quick for conventional attacks. Rather than swinging his stick like a sword, which would have taken him a second, Elias pushed the end he'd been holding onto through his fist and into her ribs.

Harriet looked down, surprised, as if real blood might have been oozing out her fake wound.

"It looks like we have a tie," Lucas announced, a satisfying smirk growing across his face. "When you and I fought together in Azir, Elias, you proved to be an excellent marksman, but I recall you had no experience with a blade. I see you have rectified that shortcoming."

"One more." Harriet had repositioned herself, stick forward and ready to go.

Elias took a deep breath and matched her guard.

And so they dueled again, then again, trading wins and proving to be well-matched sparring partners. When at last they ultimately called it a day, Harriet complemented Elias on his form: "I've never fought anyone quite like you—a collector with the sight. It's… different. Usually, I can feel someone's advantage: their speed, their strength, their skill with a blade. I'm not suggesting you're slow, or weak, or untalented. It's more just that you're better than it feels you should be, like you're assaulting my intuition. I imagine it catches people by surprise."

"Thanks," Elias replied, "I think. You're very talented yourself." He had never considered what it might feel like fighting someone with his unusual ability, and Briley rarely offered feedback. Nor could she match him these days, as Harriet could.

Elias turned to Lucas, who collected their sticks and returned them to their oak chest. He dropped the lid closed and once more clapped his hands together. "That was fun."

"Did I pass the test?" Elias asked.

"You passed this test," Lucas answered, savoring the tension before breaking the good news. "The high collectors have already discussed the matter, and we have decided to entertain your proposal, though there are conditions. We will return you to Sailor's Rise this evening, but we shall expect you back here at the Gray Academy for a month-long stay this winter. Plan accordingly."

"What for?" A month would be inconvenient, but Elias supposed he could make it work with a little preparation. A month was better than a lifetime.

"More tests," Lucas said. "Every few years, we round up newly ascendant collectors for a month of intense training, educating them in our ways, our history, honing their skills. You are an outsider, the reason for today's assessment, but I believe you will do just fine. They are all roughly your age, though you actually ascended earlier than any of them. I suppose I am partly responsible for that."

He chuckled before continuing. "I realize this may sound like a chore to you, like an obligation merely to be met, but I invite you to reconsider that assumption. As an ascendant collector, you will struggle to find anyone out there who can match you. If you wish to grow, you must practice among equals—and there is nowhere else that offers you that opportunity. Take advantage of it, Elias, not that you have much choice. Besides, Harriet will be there."

Her eyes flicked up at Elias, and that too was an invitation of its own. For a young, single man, it was a particularly persuasive one. Indeed, he needed no more convincing. If High Collector Redcaller had been the messenger, maybe this would have sounded more like a prison sentence. But Lucas and Harriet, each in their own way, had him excited about the prospect.

Perhaps he really could enjoy the best of both worlds, Elias considered. Perhaps he really could live two lives at once.