Gathering of the Chosen

  Chapter Seven

  One month later …

  Braim Kotogs stood before the massive, domed stadium known as the Stadium of the Gods, looking at it with interest. It was a brand new building, having only just been finished about a week ago. Neither Braim nor any of the other godlings had been allowed to watch its construction while it was in progress. In fact, the godlings had all been separated entirely, kept in their own apartments or inn rooms to avoid meeting each other until the day of the Tournament. The reasoning behind that, according to Alira, was so that the godlings would not be able to formulate strategies to use against each other in the Tournament itself, though Braim thought it was actually because neither Alira nor the gods wanted the godlings to interact with each other unsupervised.

  Whatever the case, the Stadium resembled the Temple of the Gods, except its exterior was made of pure gold and its doors were crystalline. It was located on the far west side of the city, on one of the few places on World's End that had been open enough to build on. Even then, Braim knew that the gods had had to tear down a handful of buildings that were already there in order to make room for the large structure.

  The Stadium had a huge frieze built above the entrance that displayed the thousands of gods already in existence. It was so intricately made that Braim sometimes wondered if it was just an illusion, as he doubted even the gods could make a frieze so intricate. On either side of the entrance were two stone statues of Alira, flanking the entrance like guards, holding up the Rulebook of the Tournament in their stone hands.

  Braim shook his head. He was already pretty late as it was. He had slept-in this morning—despite knowing that today was the first day of the Tournament—and was certain that he was the last godling to arrive, because he had not run into any other humans or aquarians on his way to the Stadium. He had, however, literally run into a rather large, menacing-looking katabans who had threatened to rip out his spine and beat him with it before the katabans realized who Braim was and let him go with his spine intact.

  Braim had no idea if there were any consequences for arriving late, though he bet there were. Alira had struck him as a very disciplined, by-the-book kind of woman. She probably did not tolerate tardiness or lateness for any reason. Even if the entire city had been burning down, Alira would likely not have accepted that as a valid excuse for not being on time.

  Then again, there was a reason that Braim had woken up later than usual. Ever since his first night on World's End, after that katabans assassin had tried to kill him, Braim had found it almost impossible to sleep through the night anymore. Anytime he heard anything—the scurrying of the mouse, the fluttering of a bird outside his window—his eyes would snap awake and he'd prepare to shoot a spell, only to realize that he was completely alone in his room. Even so, Braim had come to sleep with his wand under his pillow at night, with one hand firmly grasping it at all times. He had cast a few spells to protect his room, but he was not much of a teichomancer and believed that any determined assassin could break in with only a little effort.

  As for the identity of the assassin, that was still a mystery to Braim. Jenur, as the Magical Superior, had gone to the gods and informed them of the assassin's attack on Braim, but the gods all claimed ignorance about the attacker and his identity and the identity of his employer.

  Nonetheless, the gods had assigned a group of katabans known as the Soldiers of the Gods with the task of locating and arresting the assassin. The Soldiers of the Gods were supposedly some of the best trackers in the world, yet to Braim's knowledge, they had not found even one hint as to the current location or identity of the assassin.

  Darek and Jenur had both wanted to stay on World's End to help protect Braim, but the gods had insisted that the two go home because they were not supposed to participate in the Tournament and were not needed here. Besides, the two of them had their own responsibilities anyway and thus could not stay away from their important jobs for very long.

  But Braim had kept in contact with both of them, sending them gray ghosts every day to let them know how he was doing. Even so, Braim didn't feel safe about being on World's End by himself and so he went to bed each night figuring that he'd wake up in bed with all eight of the assassin's blades in his chest.

  Maybe I shouldn't worry as much, Braim thought, shaking his head. The assassin hasn't even been seen since the night he tried to kill me. He's probably given up. Anyway, I should head into the Stadium now. Hopefully Alira won't be too angry at me for being late like this.

  So Braim walked across the street to the massive Stadium doors. He was just about to push them open and enter the building when he heard someone behind him shout, “Wait for us!”

  Pausing, Braim looked over his shoulder and saw two young men—both maybe a few years older than Princess Raya, at most—running toward him as fast as they could. Their curly, dark hair and pale skin immediately pegged them as Ruwans, although he could tell that they were not brothers or related in any way. Both wore identical silk tunics, although the taller one wore a green tunic and the shorter one wore a blue tunic. Both tunics had built-in hoods on the back, just like Braim's did.

  The two skid to a halt before Braim, panting as if they had just run a mile (and depending on how far they had run, they very well might have run such a length in order to get here). Braim had never seen either of them before, so he had no idea who they were, though he guessed that they were both godlings like himself.

  “Looks like I'm not the only one who is going to be late after all,” said Braim, smiling at the two younger godlings. “Slept-in?”

  “Even worse,” said the shorter of the two, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he thrust a thumb over his shoulder. “Stupid katabans innkeeper who can't speak Divina tried to get money out of us, even though Tinkar told him that the gods are the ones paying our tab. Idiot tried to swindle us.”

  “Yeah, the katabans in this city aren't exactly the most trustworthy, especially the ones who run their own businesses,” said Braim. “Anyway, I don't think we've met before. What are your names?”

  “Carmaz Korva,” said the taller one. He nodded at his friend. “And he is Saia Qurea. We're from Ruwa. Ever heard of it?”

  “Yeah,” said Braim, nodding. “I actually know someone who grew up on Ruwa. Or, well, I used to know her and only got to know her again recently.”

  “Oh,” said Said. “So you went on a long trip or something without communicating with her for a while and only just returned recently?”

  Braim cracked a smile. “Something like that.”

  “Now that we've introduced ourselves, who are you?” said Carmaz. He glanced at Braim's wand, which was in the wand holster tied to his waist. “A mage?”

  Braim noted a surprising bitterness in Carmaz's words when he said that, even though Braim had done nothing to annoy or anger him. He figured that Carmaz was probably not very fond of mages for some reason.

  “Yep,” said Braim, nodding. “I'm from North Academy. Ever heard of it?”

  “Of course,” said Saia. “It's the most famous magical school in the world. Are you a student there?”

  Braim thought about it, shrugged, and said, with a smile, “It's complicated.”

  “Okay,” said Carmaz. Then he started and looked at the Stadium. “Almost forgot. We have to enter the Stadium. They're probably starting without us.”

  Braim—relieved that he wouldn't have to tell them his name (as he suspected they knew it, seeing as everyone seemed to know it nowadays, even people he had never met before)—nodded and opened the door. He stepped inside, but held the door open for Carmaz and Saia. Once they entered, he closed the door and looked around at their surroundings.

  He, Carmaz, and Saia had stepped into the lobby of the Stadium, which was rather wide-open and had lots of standing room. At the end of the lobby were five large steel doors, each one emblazoned with the symbol of the five gods that had been killed, though they were currently closed.

  Much to Braim's surp
rise, however, the lobby was full of people, who were undoubtedly the other ninety-seven godlings. Most of them were human, but there were a fair few aquarians as well, and all of the godlings were talking amongst each other, introducing themselves, speculating about what challenges they would have to undertake, what brackets they would go into, and so on. None of them seemed to notice Braim, Carmaz, and Saia enter, which was fine by Braim, as he was not in the mood to talk to a bunch of strangers about his resurrection.

  Even so, just seeing those people caused that dark feeling to creep up his spine again. Braim tried to ignore it, but as always, that feeling sneaked up on him wherever he went. It always became worse when he was with other people or was trying to sleep at night, which explained why it had come back here all of a sudden.

  Then Braim heard a familiar shrill voice say, “Hello, Braim!” and a young Carnagian woman, wearing a practical black tunic with the hood down, stepped out of the crowd of godlings. Her hair was in a simpler style, like a ponytail, but she still somehow managed to make herself look fabulous.

  Princess Raya walked up to Braim, Carmaz, and Saia with a rather arrogant step, as if they were her peasants that she was graciously allowing in her court. Braim noted how Saia's eyes ran up and down her body, though he didn't dwell on that because the darkness was still trying to cloud his mind.

  “Hey, Raya,” said Braim, waving at her as she approached. “Haven't seen you in a while. You look different.”

  Raya threw back her hair. “Well, of course I do. I am dressed for success. If I am going to become the Goddess of Martir, then I need to be dressed to take on whatever challenges Alira presents to me. Not that it will be terribly difficult for me, of course, because I know that it is my destiny to win.”

  “You sure seem confident, silver spoon,” Carmaz said, causing Raya to look at him (unlike Saia, Carmaz was looking at her face with dislike), “despite the fact that no one here even knows what the challenges in the Tournament will be. Tell me, are you just bragging or do you know something we don't?”

  “How do you know I'm a princess?” said Raya in surprise. “I don't recall ever introducing myself to someone as uncouth as you.”

  “You're an actual princess?” said Carmaz. He looked at Braim worryingly. “Is she telling the truth or pulling my leg?”

  “She's telling the truth,” said Braim. He gestured at Raya. “Beautiful here is Princess Raya, the Princess of Carnag.”

  “The one and only,” said Raya. She then put her hands on her hips. “But how could you not have heard of me? Everyone in the Northern Isles, even those who don't live on Carnag or Shika, knows my name, if not my appearance.”

  “We're from Ruwa,” said Carmaz. “The only royalty we know of has been dead for at least five hundred years, the rumors of the ghosts in Castle Ruwa notwithstanding. Afraid we don't keep track of international politics very closely.”

  “Ruwa?” Raya repeated. “I have never heard of the place. Is it some backwards island somewhere in the west?”

  “Friana Archipelago, actually,” said Carmaz, whose tolerance for Raya's rudeness, Braim could see, was growing thinner and thinner every second. “Ever been there?”

  “Oh, I visited Friana once on holiday,” said Raya with a bright smile. “Absolutely beautiful weather and geography. Loved the Crystal Mines, though the food was awful and the people ranged from mediocre to rude.”

  “Gee, I wonder what it's like to talk with a rude person,” said Carmaz dryly.

  “It's awful, I tell you, just awful,” said Raya, shaking her head. “And I am royalty. I just can't imagine how they would have treated me if I was a peasant.”

  “Probably worse,” said Carmaz.

  “Indeed,” said Raya, “although I've always wondered what it would be like to live life as a peasant. I've sometimes considered putting on some of my rattier clothes and going among the people of Carnag without telling anyone my name, but I think I'd be instantly recognizable no matter what I wore or how I styled my hair.”

  “I think your attitude and word choice would give you away more than your face,” said Carmaz. “It is very … distinctive.”

  Raya, as usual, didn't seem to notice Carmaz's implications. “Yes, yes, I agree that I am very unique. Father always tells me that there is no girl like me in the whole world. Even among the princesses of other nations, I am unique. After all, I have learned that I am the only member of royalty among the godlings, aside from that aquarian man named Foroz, who claims to be a descendent of some ancient aquarian king from the Primordia Era or something like that.”

  “I suppose that does make you … unique,” said Carmaz. He looked at Saia. “Right, Saia?”

  Saia blinked several times and then looked at Carmaz suddenly, like a dozing student suddenly called on by the teacher to answer a question during a lesson that he had paid no attention to. “What? Yes, I agree that Raya does have a very unique body.”

  Carmaz elbowed Saia in the side, causing Saia to say, “I mean, yes, Raya is a unique woman, which includes her body, because the body and mind are one whole that can't be separated from each other.”

  “Yes indeed,” said Raya, folding her arms across her chest with a smug smile on her face. “But I don't believe you two have introduced yourselves to me yet. What are your names?”

  “I'm Carmaz and I am what you would call a 'godling,' I suppose,” said Carmaz. “And this is Saia, my friend. He's not a godling, but the gods allowed him to come and support me while I'm participating in the Tournament.”

  “What?” said Raya, looking at Saia in shock. “The gods sent my parents away and told me I couldn't bring any of my servants to stay with me here. I've had to learn to fend for myself without my servants to dress and feed me. It's been so horrible, and yet they've allowed a commoner like you to bring a friend along who isn't even a godling?”

  “Sounds like you have had such a tough life, silver spoon,” said Carmaz. He had completely dropped all pretense of politeness now. “Having to dress and feed yourself. However did you survive a month on your own? I can't imagine what that must have been like.”

  “It was the toughest month of my life,” said Raya. She sniffled. “Fortunately, the gods provided me with a katabans servant to attend to some of my needs, but he was so rude and didn't serve me nearly as well as my servants back in Carnag Hall. But I believe that this month on my own has only reinforced my belief that I would make an excellent Goddess of Martir. If I can survive this, then ruling the world should be no problem for me whatsoever.”

  Carmaz looked like he was at a loss for words now. Saia, on the other hand, was nodding along, but it was pretty clear, based on the position of his eyes in relation to Raya's body, that he wasn't actually listening to a word that Raya said.

  “Anyway, Braim, do you know what bracket you've been put in yet?” said Raya, looking at Braim again. “I know we're not supposed to know until Alira arrives and tells us here, but I wanted to know if the list might have leaked to you.”

  “Sorry, beautiful, but I'm just as in the dark about this as you are,” said Braim with a shrug. “I haven't even seen Alira since the day she announced the Tournament. So it's going to be a surprise for me, too, whenever she comes out and announces it.”

  “Braim?” Carmaz repeated. He was looking at Braim with curious eyes now. “As in, Braim Kotogs?”

  “Braim Kotogs?” Saia said, finally looking away from Raya to look at Braim instead. His mouth gaped. “The man who came back? Is that really you?”

  The darkness creeping up Braim's spine almost made him growl at Carmaz and Saia for some reason, but he instead said, in a casual tone of voice, “Yeah, that's me, all right.”

  Raya pouted. “Oh, come on. Neither of you have heard of the Princess of Carnag, but somehow you've heard of him?”

  “We heard about Braim because a pirate from up north brought back word of him two months ago,” said Carmaz. “I honestly didn't believe the pirate, though, because it sounded like another f
ar-fetched pirate tale to me, but I guess he must have been telling the truth when he spoke of a man who came back from the dead.”

  “Yep,” said Braim, nodding. “I really did come back from the dead. Took me thirty years, but I did it.”

  “What does being dead feel like?” asked Saia. “Does it hurt?”

  Braim shrugged, not sure how to answer the question. “Well, uh—”

  He was thankfully spared from having to answer that question when a sudden hush fell over the entire Stadium lobby without warning. All of the godlings, including Braim, then looked up at the ceiling. It felt like some kind of indescribable magical force was drawing their attention to that direction.

  Then a portion of the ceiling slid to the side, allowing a thick metal platform to descend from the hole. Upon the platform stood Alira, who looked exactly the same as she had a month before, carrying the thick Tournament Rulebook in her arms. The platform floated over to the front of the lobby, above the five doors, allowing all of the godlings to see her.

  “Is that Alira?” Carmaz whispered to Braim, who nodded in confirmation.

  “Never seen her before?” Braim whispered back.

  “First time,” said Carmaz.

  The judge of the Tournament adjusted her glasses and then looked down upon all of the godlings. She said, “Welcome, godlings, to the Stadium of the Gods, where you will spend the majority of your time as participants in the Tournament over the next few months. I am pleased to see that everyone is present and ready to start participating.”

  Braim breathed a sigh of relief. So he hadn't been late after all. He had thought that he was, but if Alira was telling the truth, then he had clearly arrived on time. And based on the facial expressions of Carmaz and Saia, they also looked quite relieved that they were not late as well.

  As for Raya, she was staring at Alira with such intense concentration that she seemed to have forgotten everything else. Braim had a feeling that he could poke her in the back of the head with his wand and she still wouldn't take her eyes off of Alira.

  “For the past month or so, you have all been kept in the dark regarding the finer details of the Tournament,” said Alira. She patted the thick Rulebook in her arms. “Today, however, I will finally explain the basic rules and structure of the Tournament so that everyone here understands what the rules are and how the Tournament works.”

  Finally, Braim thought. I've been wondering about this since the Tournament was announced.

  Alira flipped open the large Rulebook and then let go of it. But rather than fall to the floor, the Rulebook floated open in midair, as if being held by a large, invisible hand. Alira placed one finger on the page, as if pinpointing the spot where she had left off.

  “First, we will start with the structure of the Tournament,” said Alira, in her usual matter-of-fact tone. “The Tournament of the Gods is divided into five brackets, one bracket for each deceased god: Skimif, the God of Martir; Hollech, the God of Deception, Thieves, and Horses; the Spider Goddess, Goddess of Spiders and Sleet; the Avian Goddess, Goddess of Birds; and the Human God, the God of Humans.”

  Braim already knew who each of the dead gods were. Nonetheless, he found himself wondering which position he'd get. Because he didn't really want to be in the Tournament, he had no actual preference for any of the positions.

  He glanced at Carmaz, who perked up at the mention of Skimif, and Raya, who also had perked up at the mention of that deceased god's position. In fact, Braim thought that most of the godlings in the lobby appeared very interested in Skimif's position, seeing as it was the highest and most prestigious of them all.

  “Each bracket will contain twenty godlings, all competing for the position of god of whatever bracket they are assigned to,” Alira continued. “For example, the Skimif Bracket will have twenty individuals competing for the position of God of Martir, as will the other four. And each bracket is further divided into ten sub-brackets, which have two participants each competing against each other in a task that is relevant to the position they are trying to win.

  “The winner of each sub-bracket will then move onto the main bracket, where they will compete against the other nine sub-bracket winners for whatever divine position they are competing for. As an example, the Skimif Bracket will have a sub-bracket and the winners of the Skimif Sub-Bracket will then move onto the Skimif Bracket, where they will compete with the other nine Skimif Sub-Bracket winners for the position of God of Martir.”

  Braim folded his arms across his chest and looked at Carmaz again. He couldn't read the Ruwan's facial expression due to not knowing him very well, but Carmaz hardly seemed put off by the possibility of so much competition. Raya looked positively giddy, like she thought that this Tournament was going to be a piece of cake.

  “The winner of each bracket will then be ascended into godhood, with all of the power and prestige that that title implies,” Alira finished. “To keep things orderly, all sub-bracket and bracket challenges will take place in a specified order over a certain period of time. The exact order and time period for each bracket will be revealed later on, after each godling has been sorted into their own bracket.”

  “What about the rules?” asked Carmaz, his voice rather loud in the quiet and open lobby.

  Carmaz's question caused all of the other godlings to look at him, while Alira looked almost taken aback by his question. She quickly regained her composure, however, and said, “The what?”

  “The rules for the Tournament,” said Carmaz, who didn't seem taken aback by all of the attention from the other godlings. “If this is a competition, it's got to have rules, right?”

  “Why yes, of course,” said Alira, though she sounded rather annoyed by his interruption. “I was just about to get to the rules, but thank you for asking. Yes, the rules for this Tournament are rather varied. You do not, however, need to know all of them. I will only cover the ones that will absolutely get you thrown out if you break them. Others may be read on the posters on the lobby walls.”

  That was when Braim noticed tons of posters—each full of walls of text—plastered on the lobby walls. He wondered why he hadn't noticed them before, though based on the reactions from the others, he guessed that he wasn't the only one who had somehow failed to notice them. In fact, he was now wondering if the posters might have appeared just as Alira mentioned them. It was a real possibility, after all, given what the gods were capable of doing with their magic.

  “The first, and most important, rule is 'Do not murder your competitors,'” said Alira. “It is rather self-explanatory: Killing your fellow godlings will result in an instant disqualification from the Tournament. Not only that, but participants who break this rule will also be locked away deep beneath World's End, where they will receive a terrible punishment from Grinf, the God of Metal, Fire, and Justice, himself for their crime. Accidental killings may be forgiven, but it is still advised that all godlings avoid putting their fellow participants into mortal danger.”

  That seemed like a no-brainer to Braim. He certainly had no plans to kill any of his fellow Tournament participants. And he doubted that Carmaz, Raya, or any of the others here had plans to do that, either, though considering how few of the participants he actually knew personally, he couldn't be sure about that.

  “The second most important rule is, 'Don't cheat,'” Alira continued. “That, too, is rather self-explanatory. If you are going to prove yourself worthy of godhood, then you must play fairly and by the rules. It is fine to use wit, cunning, and creativity to complete whatever tasks have been placed before you, but you cannot blatantly break the rules and expect to get away with it. Any blatant or willful breaking of the rules is grounds for instant disqualification from the Tournament, though the cheater in this case will simply be sent back home, rather than thrown beneath World's End for all eternity, unless their cheating also broke the first rule.”

  Now Braim could see some people—he was looking at Raya when he thought that—cheating. Even so, Braim wondered why
anyone would risk cheating if it meant instant disqualification. It seemed rather illogical to him, but he supposed that people didn't always make sense.

  “The third most important rule is 'Do not enlist the aid of a god or goddess to help you complete a task,'” said Alira. “That means that you must solve each task on your own. Conversely, no god or goddess is allowed to aid any of you in completing any task, even if they want to. You must earn your godhood by yourself. Like with the second rule, this one is also grounds for instant disqualification and returning the offender home.”

  Now there was something Braim could certainly never see himself doing. It would never have even occurred to him to ask for help from one of the other gods or goddesses. He didn't really like most of them anyway, considering how they tended to treat him due to his status as a dead man brought back to life.

  “Those are the top three most important rules that every godling should know before entering the Tournament,” said Alira. “As long as you remember to follow these three rules, you should have no trouble in the Tournament at all, aside from whatever troubles the challenges may present to you.”

  “Who will judge the Tournament?” Carmaz asked, again drawing the eyes of the other participants toward him.

  This time, Alira took his interruption in stride. She gestured at herself and said, “Why, I will, of course. That is the entire purpose of my existence. If I did not judge the Tournament, then I would quite literally have no other reason to live.”

  “Okay,” said Carmaz. “And what about people who lose honestly in the sub-brackets and main brackets? What happens to them?”

  “They are sent back to their homelands, assuming they lost without cheating,” said Alira. “Any other questions, Carmaz?”

  Carmaz shook his head, but Braim could tell that Carmaz was thinking hard about Alira's words. Braim heard nothing strange in Alira's answers, so he decided not to think about them.

  “Very well,” said Alira. “With all of that out of the way, I will now distribute these cards to each godling.”

  Alira drew a stack of cards from her breast pocket. The cards were shining and silvery in the light. Indeed, from a distance, they looked like they were made out of actual silver. She raised the deck high for everyone to see.

  “Upon each card is written the name of each individual godling, along with the bracket they were assigned to,” said Alira. “Some of you may be surprised with the bracket to which you have been assigned, but rest assured that it is no mistake and that you have been assigned to the correct bracket.”

  Alira threw the cards into the air. Braim at first thought that that was a stupid thing to do, because the deck was going to get scattered everywhere and it would probably take a long time for all one hundred godlings to find their own card (unless that was the first challenge, in which case the gods really were crazy).

  But the deck—rather than scattering into every corner of the room like Braim expected—floated in midair for a moment before each card shot out from the deck one by one. The cards flew all over the room, flying into the hands of each godling to whom they belonged.

  Three such cards flew toward Braim, Raya, Carmaz, and Saia. Because Raya was slightly closer to Alira than the others, she got her card first, which she eagerly began reading.

  Braim and Carmaz caught theirs at exactly the same time. Saia drew closer to Carmaz to see what his card said, while Braim tilted his head down to look at the tiny, silver card in his hand, which read thus:

  BRAIM KOTOGS

  BRACKET: SKIMIF BRACKET

  Braim turned the card over, wondering if there was more to it than that, but the card was completely blank aside from those words. Even so, Braim sensed a warmth in the card that was not natural. He suspected that it was caused by a spell cast by Alira, probably in order to identify the card's owner.

  So Braim turned the card over again to read the words written upon it again. His eyes focused on the second line—BRACKET: SKIMIF BRACKET—and he found himself dreading it greatly.

  Damn it, Braim thought, frowning. Probably should have expected it, but damn it.

  Then he looked at Carmaz. The Ruwan was squinting at his card with a frown on his face.

  “What does yours say?” said Braim.

  “I …” Carmaz scratched the back of his head, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I can't really read it. I never learned how to read.”

  The idea that Carmaz was illiterate confused Braim until he recalled that Carmaz was from Ruwa, an island with a rather high rate of illiteracy. He had quite forgotten that, seeing as Carmaz had behaved more like someone who could.

  “Let me look at it and I can tell you what it says,” said Braim.

  Carmaz still looked embarrassed, but he held out his card for Braim to read. Braim leaned forward and read the card, which had a layout and font similar to his:

  CARMAZ KORVA

  BRACKET: THE HUMAN GOD BRACKET

  “It says you're in the Human God Bracket,” said Braim, pulling back and looking at Carmaz.

  Carmaz's face fell. He looked at the card again himself, as did Saia, who was now looking over his shoulder, and he said, “That can't be.”

  “It is,” said Braim. “Sorry, man, but that's what it says. Did you want to be in a different bracket or something?”

  Carmaz looked at Braim with desperation in his eyes. “What bracket are you in?”

  “The Skimif Bracket,” said Braim. “Why?”

  Carmaz looked like he was about to crumple his card in his hand. He then glared up at Alira, who was looking down at everyone from her platform as if to make sure that everyone had received the correct card.

  Braim, who was not entirely sure why Carmaz was upset, decided to find out which bracket Raya had been assigned to. He turned to her and said, “So, Raya, what bracket did you get?”

  Raya was so still that Braim almost believed that she had somehow become a statue. She didn't even seem to hear him at all. Worried, Braim reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder, but then Raya said, without looking at him, “Don't touch me.”

  His hand freezing partway between him and Raya, Braim said, “What?”

  “I said, don't touch me,” Raya repeated. Her tone was flat.

  Braim lowered his hand and smiled. “Let me guess, you didn't get put into the bracket that you wanted.”

  “I got put in the worst bracket,” said Raya, still without looking at Braim.

  “Which one is the worst again?” said Braim. “Is it the Spider Goddess's bracket? Because I don't like spiders much myself, either.”

  Raya thrust her card up into Braim's face. He leaned back slightly so he could actually read the card, which read—again in a similar layout and font to his and Carmaz's cards—thus:

  RAYA MANA

  BRACKET: HOLLECH BRACKET

  ***