Ethel jolted at hearing her name called.
“Good luck!” Viola told her brightly.
“Be careful,” warned Barclay.
“Go for the eyes!” Abel said. “Or the—”
Abel’s advice was cut off as the other students hurried to the edges of the field to claim the best viewing spot. The three of them sat at one of the corners, and Barclay wished they’d brought blankets like the other attendees. The grass was quite damp, and out in the open, there was nothing to stave off the Winter chill.
“Have either of you ever fought like this before?” Barclay asked them.
Viola and Abel both nodded.
“It’s standard training if you want to become a Guardian Keeper, since they often need to subdue or battle dangerous Beasts,” Viola answered. “Or sometimes even dangerous Keepers themselves.”
“It’s like Dooling, though those matches are all-out brawls.” Abel rubbed his hands together. “You know,Barclay, with a Lufthund, you could compete in them! You don’t need a Guild license to—most champions don’t have one. You could—”
“Yes, the world is my oyster, I get it,” Barclay said grumpily. “Except the oyster spits out toxic phlegm instead of pearls.”
“Gross,” Viola said, wrinkling her nose. “You’re so dramatic.”
Abel shrugged. “I don’t know, toxic phlegm sounds kind of neat.”
Ethel’s opponent, Fergus Maciver, was a stocky, pale boy with red hair. He summoned a Beast that looked like a turtle, except its shell was made of prickly, pink stone that looked like coral.
Ethel didn’t bother to summon her own Beast. A long mirror appeared in the field, earning the claps and cheers of the audience. Much like Abel had in the Woods, she slipped within the glass—to gasps of surprise all around—and jumped out at another point behind Fergus. So disoriented, Fergus fumbled as he tried to block her. But Ethel was faster. She reached out and snagged Fergus’s flag.
At her victory, Abel jumped to his feet and hollered.
“What kind of Lore is that?” Viola asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s mirror Lore,” Abel told her. “We can conjure mirrors and hop in and out of them. When we’re in one, we’re faster, like light speed, so it makes it easy to leap out behind you and attack.”
Viola nodded, then turned to Barclay. “You look almost green.”
He swallowed. “I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be! You’ll be—”
“Did you forget, Viola? I did the math. The only way I have any chance of winning the Exhibition is placing first in this round. Otherwise, I’ll be a Lore Keeper forever.”
Viola studied him carefully—and maybe a bit sadly. “Would that really be so bad?”
Barclay hugged his arms to his chest, frustrated, with no idea how to answer.
Tadg’s fight occurred in the afternoon, against a boy named Knut Wetzel. The entire audience quieted, eager to see Tadg’s famous Mythic Beast, but they were disappointed. Within moments of starting, there was a faint spark of light, so fast that Barclay nearly missed it. Then Tadg’s opponent let out a sudden mangled shriek and dropped unconscious.
Barclay could scarcely believe his eyes. “He attacked him!”
“But did you see it? Did you see what happened?” Abel hissed.
“Not at all,” replied Ethel.
“Maybe Knut got scared and faked it,” said Abel.
Viola rolled her eyes and pointed to the cover ofA Traveler’s Log, to the lampreylike Beast on the cover. “Nathermaras can use lightning and water Lore. Tadg probably electrocuted him.”
Abel let out an annoyed huff. “Seems cheap.”
