"You're perfect because you refuse to be impressed, Aliviana. I like that. It-"

"I wouldn't exactly say I'm not impressed!"

He grinned. "You say, interrupting me."

And proving his point.

Liv decided to shut up. Maybe differentiating herself from all the other women who came here-and were unsuccessful in their attempts to seduce Gavin-had not been a good plan.

"It seems every time I summon a woman between the ages of thirteen and sixty, she comes dressed like a Ruthgari courtesan, either overly eager or completely terrified. Like I run a brothel up here."

Oh, Orholam strike me, what if I've done the one thing that makes me more attractive to him? "You're Gavin Guile," Liv said, like that explained everything. It did. Not only would snaring the Prism totally change a woman's own life, but it would change her entire family's life. Immediately and for generations to come, and for the better. Add gorgeous and virile to "Prism," which already meant powerful, respected, and rich, and Liv had no doubt that hemlines soared and necklines swooped. It was a wonder that women didn't come to the Prism naked. How much would Ana have worn if the Prism had summoned her?

On second thought, Liv didn't want to think about that.

"Yes, I am," Gavin said, smirking as if at some private joke. "And I need your help, Aliviana."

Liv swallowed. The truth was, he could ask anything, and there was no way she could say no. "Liv, please."

"Right." Gavin cleared his throat. Why is he clearing his throat? He feels awkward? Does he feel awkward starting an affair with a girl half his age?

Gavin glanced over Liv's shoulder again. "A number of years ago-it feels like quite a number of years ago... I have a... nephew nephew. His mother was Tyrean. I want you to tutor him. It might make him feel more comfortable to learn from another Tyrean. I know you Tyreans don't have it easy here. What do you say?"

Liv spluttered. A "nephew"? A tutor? Kip! Of course! Orholam, she'd gone completely the wrong direction! Idiot! The Prism hadn't even been thinking anything remotely..."W-well, of course, Lord Prism. Is there... why do..." What was she saying? She'd already been impertinent enough. Asking the wrong question about a man's bastard might be a good way to ruin everything. "What color is he gifted with?" She only remembered at the last second to say "he" and not "Kip." She wasn't supposed to know Kip was the Prism's bastard at all.

I would make a lousy spy.

"Green. Possibly blue. He's being initiated right now."

"Right now?" Liv asked. The year's initiations had been completed long ago. Liv had never heard of someone being initiated at any other time of year. "How long has your-how long has he been here?"

"He arrived yesterday."

"And he's being initiated already?!" Liv asked. Poor Kip.

Gavin glanced behind her again. This time, she knew what he was looking at. Throughout the tower, for reasons Liv had never comprehended, there were plain crystals set into the walls. For the whole year, they simply sat and sparkled, dully refracting whatever light they caught from their surroundings, but during initiations at the beginning of each year, they glowed brilliantly. As the supplicants passed through the Thresher, invariably there was the wash of one color after another as each test progressed, the same wash each supplicant saw. As soon as they drafted, the crystal turned a brilliant hue in whatever color they drafted. For Liv it had been superviolet first, then yellow weakly.

The whole time Liv had been here, the Prism had been watching to see how his bastard son was doing.

Come to think of it, if the test had been going on since the first time Gavin Guile had glanced behind Liv, it was taking a really long time. Usually it took less than a minute.

They both turned to look at the crystal. "What did the tester say when they lowered you into the Thresher?" Gavin asked.

"He said something about the only good rebel being a dead rebel, and how he still owed my father blood," Liv said. The point had been, as it always was, to scare the person being tested. Fear made the eyes dilate. Fear made a supplicant draft to the utmost of her abilities. It also helped even the most arrogant young lady or lordling begin their studies with a bit of humility.

"How about you?" Liv asked. Neither of them turned from the crystal.

"Something about my brother," Gavin said. "Turned out to be more right than they knew."

"I'm sorry," Liv said. She wasn't sure if she was apologizing for asking, for the tester, or for the real-life nightmare Gavin had gone through later in having to kill his own brother.

"I never liked that part, scaring them. The chamber is terrifying enough, and the thought of failing is scary enough. They don't have to make supplicants think they're really going to die. It breaks people. It breaks children."

Liv had never thought about it that way. The Thresher just was. Everyone went through it. It was inextricable from drafting, from the Chromeria. If nothing else, every drafter had the Thresher in common.

"The noble girls all knew what was coming," Liv said. "Unlike the rest of us. They knew the test itself wouldn't hurt them, so that bit of talking outside the test was the only thing that made them afraid. Because even if they'd been warned, hearing a tester who claims to belong to your enemy's family say that accidents happen is terrifying."

"Hadn't thought of that," Gavin said. "All my friends were nobles. I thought everyone knew what was coming."

Of course you did. It's just another way the Chromeria's stacked to favor your kind.

Gavin cleared his throat. "Liv, my son might be special, really gifted. We'll find out presently, but I wouldn't be surprised if he's a polychrome. He's Tyrean, his mother just died, he's going to face false friends and unearned enemies just for being my son; he won't fit in anywhere and yet people are going to be watching him all the time. If he's truly powerful on top of that... he could turn into a monster. He wouldn't be the first in my family to handle great power poorly. The gift isn't a pure gift, you know."

"What do you want me to do?" Liv asked. Was she really going to be tutoring the Prism's son? Bastard son, but still. She felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of her. The Prism was just the Prism-well, maybe there was no such thing as being just just the most powerful man in the world-but he was a lord to whom she owed service. Normal service. Something not terribly hard, given how completely he'd changed her life. the most powerful man in the world-but he was a lord to whom she owed service. Normal service. Something not terribly hard, given how completely he'd changed her life.

"Maybe he'll be a monochrome. Probably will be. I'm getting ahead of myself," Gavin said.

"But if he's not?" You've got to let me know what your expectations are or I'm going to fail-and then you'll be mad at me for that. Typical nobleman. Liv felt good that she was able to be irritated. She was regaining her bearings.

"Pretend he's normal. In all ways. I know he'd figure it out pretty quickly if we stay, but I'm going to take him away from here as soon as I possibly can. Until then, give him some normalcy. If he makes you mad, yell at him. Smack his knuckles with a stick if he misbehaves, you understand? But if he masters something difficult, pretend it's good but nothing out of the norm. I want him to know that those who matter aren't going to be impressed by who his father is or how much he can draft."

"And who are these people?" Liv asked sarcastically. She hadn't really meant to say it out loud, but Gavin was being ridiculously idealistic. Of course who he was and how much he could draft mattered. Maybe when you were born on the top of the mountain you could pretend the mountain didn't matter, but those who climbed it and those born at its base who could never climb at all knew differently.

"Me and Orholam," Gavin said, ignoring her tone. "If we're the only ones whose approval he cares about, he's got a chance."

Liv didn't know if that was the most arrogant or the most profound thing she'd ever heard. Maybe both. Whatever else it did, though, it reminded her who and what Gavin was. By Orholam's scowling brow, she'd been glibly sarcastic to the Prism, the man closest in all the world to Orholam himself. And thank Orholam that Liv had turned down that awful woman. Even if it was going to cost her dearly. Spying on the Prism himself? It was practically sacrilegious. As bad as Liv's stupidity and awkwardness and horrifying sliver of infatuation was, how awful would it have been to be a traitor too? She swallowed. "I'm sorry, Lord Prism, I was out of-"

Gavin raised a hand and stood abruptly.

Liv glanced at the crystal but saw nothing. The crystal hadn't changed. She looked over at Gavin in time to see the Prism blanch-then his face was lit up like the sun had just come out from behind the blackest clouds.

A wash of colors flashed through his skin and he threw out a hand toward the crystal. A crackling, shimmering tube of luxin shot from his hand and stuck to the crystal on the opposite wall like an iridescent spiderweb on fire. More and more gushed out of the man, pushing deep into the crystal.

And then, as abruptly as he started, Gavin stopped. A moment later, the crystal glowed a brilliant jade green, and then a less intense blue.

Gavin sighed with relief.

"What was that?" Liv asked.

"A secret!" Gavin barked. He gestured, and Liv felt a gust of cold wind and heard the windows drop heavily into their slots.

"Come here," the Prism ordered. His body filled with every color in the rainbow and beyond. A rope of green luxin wrapped around a chain of yellow-infused blue ran from his hand. "Now, girl! I have to be there first to contain this, and he's going to need you."

In a daze, Liv hurried over to the Prism. She didn't even know what he was talking about.

"Get on my back," he said.

"What?"

"On my back, now! Hold on tight."

She jumped on his back. His body was unnaturally hot from the sub-reds he was holding along with every other color. What was he doing? She looked at the chain he was holding again. Then he turned and faced the void outside his window. She squeaked and held on with a death grip.

"Nna tha igh!" the Prism said.

"What?" Liv asked, loosening her grip around his neck.

"Not that tight," he growled.

Even as she apologized, bands of luxin whipped around her body, holding her tight against him. Gavin took a run toward the window and leapt.

Liv's view, at first, was only of the luxin spooling out of Gavin's hand like spider's silk, perfectly matching the rate at which they were falling. She realized she had no idea how far exactly they would have to fall to get to the level of the Threshing Chamber, or how Gavin would know when to stop them. For that matter, how did he mean to get back into the tower from the outside? Hope someone left a window open?

Oh, dear Orholam!

They were falling an awfully long time. Liv's eyes disobeyed her and jumped from the luxin above to the ground below. It was rushing up at them with incredible speed.

Then she was crushed into Gavin's back as he solidified the rope. The pressure threatened to sweep her off of him and straight into the courtyard. They whipped around backward and she saw the rope-chain spooled out to the distant top of the Prism's Tower, and the tower itself was looming bigger and bigger as as they swung back toward its sheer, unbroken face.

Three sharp jerks pushed her and Gavin backward, but with nowhere near enough force to slow them down. Briefly, Liv saw three missiles streaking out from Gavin's outstretched left hand toward the tower in front of them.

She didn't see what the missiles did, because whatever else they accomplished, with Gavin shooting them out of his left hand while his right held the rope, he absorbed the recoil with his left arm. So as soon as the missiles were out of his hand, Gavin and Liv were sent spinning sharply widdershins.

Glass and stone exploded on every side around Liv. She was sliding along a floor, zipping straight and smooth for a fraction of a second, abruptly cut away from the Prism. Then something caught the hem of her skirt. Her momentum and the friction with the floor yanked it up hard, and then her bare skin squeaked on naked stone. She flopped over sideways and rolled a few times. When she stopped against the wall, all she could think was that she couldn't believe she was still alive.

There were half a dozen drafters in the suddenly breezy hallway, looking at the Prism and her in disbelief. The Prism was already up, giving sharp orders.

Why is my butt cold? Liv followed the drafters' stares and looked down. Her skirt was bunched around her waist from the slide, exposing her to all the world. She squeaked, yanked her skirt down, and jumped to her feet.

"You, get Luxlord Black. Tell him I want this repaired. Today. Go immediately. You, take the names of everyone in this hall and everyone in the testing chamber," the Prism was saying. Liv, seeing everyone's attention was on the Prism, shifted her hips. She hadn't noticed until after she jumped up, but her butt cheeks had been cold because her underclothes had been yanked up too. Now they were cleaving the moon in a serious way. She shimmied, trying to fix her underclothes without fishing after them with a hand. "Aliviana, what are you doing?" the Prism asked.

Liv froze, transfixed.

"Never mind, stay here. I'll call for you in a moment." Gavin opened the door to the testing chamber and slipped inside. All the drafters in the hall, including one of the best-looking young magisters in the whole Chromeria, Payam Navid, turned to look at Liv, obviously wondering why she was so important-and killing her chance to quickly tug her underclothes down. Not having any idea what she was going to find or what the Prism was going to expect of her, she smiled nervously at the young magister.

Chapter 45

Gavin moved quickly, hearing the old bichrome say, "Are you ready to see your colors?" to Kip.

"I know I am!" Gavin said. "Mistress Varidos, may I?" Family members of supplicants weren't allowed in the testing chamber for fear that it would lead to cheating. The rule, at least theoretically, even applied to the Prism. There's a reason theory and practice are two different words.

"I wasn't even aware that you'd begun your testing. How long did they say you lasted?" Gavin asked.

"Four minutes, I guess," Kip said.

"Four twelve," the old mistress said.

Gavin physically stopped. It had seemed like a long time up in his room, but he'd supposed it had only seemed long. Four minutes was astounding. Passing had only taken him five.

Mistress Varidos drew close to Gavin and whispered, "There was some irregularity that I think you should know about."

Gavin smiled at Kip. "Well done, we'll just be a moment." He came aside, leaving Kip with the men and women who were asking him which part he thought was hardest, how he'd managed to hold out so long, and generally treating him like the center of the world. It was pretty intoxicating for a young drafter, and it was supposed to be.

Grinning, Gavin walked toward the tester's table with Mistress Varidos. They came to stand right over the stone table. A black samite cloth was spread over a hole in the middle of the table. The testing stone would be right in there. Gavin tried to remember exactly how it was positioned. He'd only get one shot at this. "What was the irregularity?" he asked. The samite blocked out any outside light that would interfere with the testing stone.

The old woman exhaled slowly. "He threw the rope out of his hand at about three thirty. Before I could stop her, one of the women put it back in his hand."

"Are you joking?" Gavin said.

"They send the beautiful ones for the testing. Half of them barely have the brains to remember their lines, much less remember some of the more obscure rules governing situations that have never arisen in living memory. Even Dazen didn't throw the rope aside."

"Which one did it?"

"The green."

Of course it was the green. Wild, unpredictable, chafing at the slightest restriction. "Get her over here!"

The green tester saw the mistress's summons and walked right over. All the testers were beautiful, and if being light-skinned was a detriment on the battlefield, it was favored for this and a few other ceremonies. The visual effect of a man or woman whose skin was green or blue or red was more muted the darker their natural skin tone. Even the Parians chose coastal, lowland, or mixed-blood countrymen to represent them in this ceremony. This woman was Ruthgari, and light-skinned even for them. She moved with the easy grace of a dancer. Her thin green robe, thrown on during the ceremony so that all the testers would be clad in their colors when the supplicant emerged-which might be only ten or fifteen seconds after their testing began-was, in her case, open deep between her large breasts. She walked up eagerly, throwing her hair back, back straight, standing just on the other side of the table.

The nudity and near-nudity of some of the ceremonies were shrouded in religious and cultural symbolism that made them almost non-erotic. Almost, because no matter how high-minded you might be, you couldn't completely ignore the fact that you were looking at someone who was naked and astoundingly attractive. But the parties afterward, especially at initiations, were always a gray area. Everyone beautiful, everyone half-clad, everyone with the fresh memory of everyone else stark naked, the atmosphere jubilant, the wine flowing freely, and the somber ceremonialism suddenly removed.

This green knew exactly what she was doing. Gavin was taller than the woman, so he could barely help but stare down her barely closed robe. Instead, he looked at her heart-shaped face, hazel eyes, the pupils barely haloed in green. She looked familiar.

"Over here," he said, pointing next to him, between himself and Mistress Varidos. She stepped around the stone table to where he'd pointed, but closer in than necessary.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice cool.

"My name's Tisis," she said, her smile showing off great dimples.

"Tisis what?"

"Oh," she said, as if she didn't have a thought in her head. "Tisis Malargos."

"What happened, Tisis?" he asked, pretending not to recognize the name. Her father and uncle had been his friends-that was, his Dazen's Dazen's. They'd disappeared after the war. Killed by bandits or enslaved by pirates, most likely. She had the family look. No doubt she hated him. She'd seen that Kip had a chance of passing the test, so she'd sabotaged him. Gutsy. Foolish and infuriating, but gutsy.

"The supplicant cheated," she said. "He threw out the rope. I put it back in his hand."

"You're not to touch the supplicant in any way during the testing. Is there something about that rule that's unclear?"

"I didn't touch him-Pardon me, High Luxlord Prism, I put the rope back in his hand without touching his skin. I was trying to preserve the integrity of the test."