Tertius Ericius grunts again, but it’s less doubtful this time. “How much do you know about racing?” We’ve moved some distance along the sand, relatively isolated from any curious ears.
“Two chariots per team. We steer our own while powering our partner’s using Will.” I’m confident in my answer. Some chariot races feature horses, but those are for Septimii who use their Will purely for protection. Considered even more lowbrow entertainment than Will-based racing, if that were possible. “Seven laps, and as long as both chariots make it to the seventh, whichever team gets one over the line first is the winner.”
“Splitting your focus will be the most difficult part. Managing your partner’s speed while self-imbuing against injury if you crash. And just to stay on, of course. Blue in Caten lost last week because Victus Xilor couldn’t hang on around the last corner.” It’s Livia speaking up, to my surprise. When her father shoots her an equally startled look, she shrugs impudently at him. “I have interests.”
“Which we will discuss later,” mutters Tertius Ericius. He turns back to Aequa and me. “She’s right, though. It’s a sport for the masses, but it takes skill to drive well. And alotof focus.”
“No worse than running the Labyrinth,” Aequa observes.
I nod my wholehearted agreement.
Tertius Ericius continues to give us advice, most of which to his dismay is either supplemented or countered by a far-too-knowledgeable Livia as eight chariots are wheeled onto the sand. Wood and metal, each with a “horse” for imbuing: a single, massive stone wheel at the front with stallions carved into its edges, a nod to the pre-Will era. The wheels grind ominously, even from this distance. Two chariots are painted blue, two green, two red, and two white. Green and Blue are the most popular teams in Caten, sponsored by Governance and Religion, respectively. Little doubt as to which will be ours.
“How should we handle it when they hit us?” I address it to Livia, whose expertise clearly outstrips that of her father. She thinks they’ll target me, and I agree. My balance is the obvious weakness of our team, and it’s perfectly legalto ram an opponent. Perfectly legal to pull one another out of the chariots, too, technically. There … aren’t a lot of rules to the sport.
“Hit them back. They can’t finish if they don’t have anything left to drive.” She gives me a crooked smile. “I saw a little of their Placement, earlier. They’re both strong, but Decimus’s control leaves something to be desired. You should target him. Especially when Quiscil’s heading into a curve. If you’re lucky, they might both crash out in one hit.”
Tertius Ericius looks at his daughter in horror, while Advenius hides a high-pitched titter behind his hand.
“Ready?” Aequa’s bouncing on the balls of her feet, all nervous energy. The sight is strangely reassuring, familiar from our time together little more than a few months ago. She’s anxious to start. Not showing even a hint of doubt about my ability to compete. I’m grateful for that, though it must surely be there.
“Ready.”
“Luck, Catenicus.” Tertius Ericius gives me a nod and leaves without anything further. Outwardly nonchalant, but I can sense his apprehension. I feel it myself. This isn’t just for me, and it’s not even just for whatever fragile peace is being negotiated between Governance and Religion. Working directly for him, he can effectively provide me with unlimited free time and resources to pursue real answers about the Iudicium, without raising the Senate’s suspicions. Otherwise …
Before I can start after Aequa, her father claps me on the shoulder. Leans in, voice high even as it’s soft. “Keep her safe, dear boy. Keep her safe, and win.” He waddles off.
I jog to join Aequa, catching her as we reach the sand. “I think your father likes me more than he used to.”
“You kept me alive, and then you embarrassed your father by defecting. He’d adopt you if he could.”
I chuckle, even as I study my friend with a sideways glance. Aequa seems different. More relaxed. More confident. Not that she was neither of those things at the Academy, but now it’s like a weight has been lifted from her. “Gods’ graves. Aequa. Are youenjoyingthis?”
She grins without looking at me, and says nothing.
The other teams are already waiting. Iro and Indol, of course. Marcellus and Tiberius, the other team for Religion. Felix and Diana, another Fifth from the Academy, for Governance.
We reach them, Tertius Decimus and the chariots. I ignore the former and study the latter. They’re small things, semi-circular platforms barely large enough for a single person to stand on; chains swivel the stone “horse” at the front, dictating where and when the chariot should turn. It’s the Will of each charioteer’s teammate that will drive the massive wheel forward—an easy enough task, if it weren’t for the constant need to adjust its speed.
“Sturdy,” murmurs Aequa dryly, noting the leather stretched over thin, light wood and lack of reinforcement.
“Are you two ready?” Tertius Decimus is impatient. Eager more than angry though. His hope had to have been for me to do poorly on my assessments—that would have made all of this unnecessary—but otherwise, things are going exactly as he wants. I still think he’s underestimating me, but now I see the chariots up close, I’m beginning to understand the challenge before me. Simply riding on one of these things at speed will take significant balance and grip; using my one hand to steer while cornering, probably while riding out collisions, is going to require far more self-imbuing than I’d like.
“We’re ready,” Aequa answers for the both of us, showing no sign of being intimidated by the Tertius. Notably cool in her politeness. Too smart for outright disrespect, but she’s as angry as I am about the situation, I think. Offended at the idea that what we went through at the Iudicium is somehow irrelevant.
Indol passes me as we head to our chariots. “Luck, Vis,” he says quietly, meeting my eye.
I restrain the urge to be petty, to ignore him. He’s looked miserable since this was initiated. Perhaps he should be protesting, refusing to participate—but I also don’t know much about his situation in Religion. Still have no idea why he even defected from Military. It may be that he’s simply in no position to argue. “Luck, Indol.”
His fleeting smile of gratitude says much, and I’m glad I responded.
Aequa and I imbue each other’s stone wheels, then climb aboard our green-clad chariots. The wood creaks beneath my weight. There’s no starting gate, just eight staggered positions on the straight, our lanes chosen by drawn lots. I’m third from the inside, Aequa sixth. Iro, in blue, starts ahead on the very outside, but is farther from his counterpart in Indol, who’s next to me. No real advantage to anyone.
I lash the chain reins tight around my waist. Test my balance, then self-imbue my remaining Will, shivering at the sudden surge. We were advised toleave around half our strength for this, to properly protect against injury if we crash. The others will have ignored that: we’re all Totius Sextii at the moment, and we’re all smart enough to calculate that the strength of about four people—less than a quarter of our total Will—should be enough to protect us from anything worse than heavy bruises, even at these speeds.
Of course, we all need Will for other areas too. Balance is by far the most important factor here, and while we’re all physically very capable after the Academy, none of us have been trained as charioteers. The others will almost certainly have allowed more Will into their legs, stabilising themselves. An extra one, perhaps two people’s worth, I’d imagine. None of us can win if we simply fall off.
The problem is that I need even more. I’ve worked tirelessly on adapting to my missing arm, am confident enough in my everyday life now. But this is entirely different. And if I lose my equilibrium out here, I’ll be eating sand. At best.
