The Black Prism
Page 72
“You said to come at my earliest convenience.” She couldn’t keep a defensive tone out of her voice. “I thought you’d not want to be kept waiting.” That was better. Nicely assertive, Liv.
“I think you’ll do perfectly.”
“Lord Prism?”
“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. 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 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.
“I think you’ll do perfectly.”
“Lord Prism?”
“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. 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 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.
