That night, Gray had another Oma dream, and in this one, the shack was once again far in the distance. He couldn’t even see the trees, only the soft glow in the windows, but that radiance now felt cold.

  However, Oma’s voice was as comforting as ever. “Look, my little dreamer. Do you see that bright star in the distance?”

  “I do.” It was a single twinkling diamond among specks.

  “Good,” Oma purred. “That star is Mrs. Emilia Stone. The stars are souls, you see, and if you can see her soul, she can see yours.”

  “Why is she so far away?” Gray asked.

  “Perhaps it is you that has wandered off, Little Dreamer. You are not where you are need to be.”

  “I’m working on changing that, Oma. Can I trust the Widow Stone?”

  The voice didn’t answer right away, and a second later, Gray was awake, sweating in the pre-dawn heat. It was going to be hot, the worst one so far that long, long summer.

  Gray lay in bed, listening to Rynn sleeping underneath him. It was almost time for them to wake up, but he took a second examine the white silk scarf. It was so soft and gleaming white, a piece of finery that rich people probably wouldn’t look twice at. Maybe Princess Lilian didn’t care that her ruby necklace had been stolen. Maybe she had a dozen pieces that were twice as nice and expensive. The rich didn’t care about the poor, not in any way that mattered. Everyone was so selfish. The world was a hard place, only getting harder, and Gray’s only hope was to master himself so he could take what he needed.

  Did he hate the world? He had to laugh. Yes. Anyone with eyes and a mind should hate the world, especially an orphan boy who grew up in a place devoid of magic.

  Was the silk scarf magic? It didn’t seem to be. Gray couldn’t see any of that yellow light, and yet, it seemed to have a magic all of its own.

  It wasn’t long before Rynn stirred, and they both did their morning meditation. They sat in chairs because the floor had too many scorpions. Meditating in the heat wasn’t easy, but Gray held the silk scarf, and it calmed him in some way he didn’t understand.

  Before they went to breakfast, he smelled the fabric, and it smelled like the Widow Stone’s workshop, and a smokey scent spiced with a light perfume that lingered.

  Rynn asked about the scarf, and Gray first impulse was to lie. Instead, he told her everything that had happened the night before. Rynn was impressed that there was an archmagus living such an unassuming life in Pit City. She had to have a very dramatic back story, or that’s what Rynn thought. She was a Middle Magi, and when Gray asked about that, Rynn explained to him that the levels were divided into three categories. Neophytes, Acolytes, and Adepts were part of the Lesser Magi. Then there was the Middle Magi, since they were at the center of the leveling structure. This include the Magus and Archmagus ranks. Finally, there were the Greater Magi, the Sovereign Masters, and the near mythical Grandmaster Magi. Some whispered there was an eighth rank, the Divine Core Lord, but most thought that was just talk.

  “Did the Widow Stone mention the Divine Core Lord?” Rynn asked, eating something she called a waffle, and like most of her food, it was manafied.

  That morning, they had double-chocolate ironbites. It was so delicious that Gray was tempted to take two bites, but he knew that just might put him in bed for the rest of the day, and the idea of being trapped inside Third Barracks all day long made him stop. He still liked the lemon poppyseed ironbites the best, but the double-chocolate ironbites were a close second.

  Gray was finishing up an egg and bacon sandwich, unmanafied. “Is the Divine Core Lord like the eighth instinct?”

  That made Rynn laugh. “Yes. It’s exactly like that. Some believe that if you progress beyond being a Grandmaster Magus, you can attain godhood. You become the Divine Core Lord, and up in the sky at night, we don’t see stars, but the souls of the divine magi who transcended humanity. They rule worlds all their own, perfect paradises where everyone has enough to eat, where every child is taken care of, and every dog has a home.”

  “It sounds nice.” Gray failed to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “What happened to the Divine Core Lord who was supposed to be taking care of this world?”

  Rynn frowned. “Midmere isn’t like the other worlds. You do know how it started, don’t you?”

  Gray shook his head. “Is this where you tell me about the gods and goddesses?”

  “Maybe.” Rynn gave him a soft smile. “Aunt Florence said talking about religion is like running into the mouth of a wrath lion. But yes, it is about the gods and goddesses?”

  “Talking about the world always leads to the gods and goddesses. Did they slaughter each other and the oceans are the blood of the gods, and the lands are their butchered bodies? Are we standing on the belly, right now, of some luckless god who had their head chopped off? Wait. That would be the Crown. I come from the Nursery Islands, so we know what those are.”

  Rynn giggled. “Isn’t there an island called Brest?”

  He nodded.

  The elf girl sobered. “No. Midmere was created as a place for the gods of order and the gods of chaos to meet, to fall in love, to bond. This was their paradise, a world caught between the Weeping Well and the Joyful Threshold, caught between heaven and hell. Midmere is the love nest of the gods. My Aunt Florence would say since it’s in the middle, we get to decide if the world is a heaven or if it’s a hell.”

  Gray didn’t say anything for a long time.

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  Rynn had stopped eating. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No.” He smiled. Whenever he said ‘no’ he was earning his namesake. “It seems to me the happiness of our lives is all in the roll of the dice. It is a gamble. Some roll well and are lucky. Some roll poorly and are damned.”

  “What did you roll?” she asked.

  Their breakfast conversation was getting too serious, too bitter, and so he only smiled. “Snake eyes. My rolls were bad at first. But then, I got lucky. Old Agatha was a lucky number seven. Then, I rolled a series of sevens when I stopped to talk with a blind beggar in the Arena Market.”

  “Was that Blind John?”

  “It was.” Gray felt his heart grow warm. He was letting Rynn get to know him. It was dangerous business, given their attraction, and yet, he knew nothing could happen. He wasn’t going to wind up bonded with someone until he was sure what he wanted out of this new life. Besides, he should probably talk to Yellow before he made any major life decisions. That dog was special, and Gray might not trust people, but he did trust that dog.

  After breakfast, they did another round of meditation, this time on the training fields near the Fieldhouse, where there was a little temple built under some trees near the river. Benches were there, which gave them a view of the running water. Near the river, the air was cooler, as long as you stayed out of the sunlight.

  Focusing on his breath, Gray practiced not thinking for a while. It was like the more he could quiet his mind, the brighter his mana became. His core was full again, getting stronger, and all of his stomach pain was gone. He also noticed that the more ironbites he could tolerate the better his core absorbed mana, though the process was so slow when compared to recruits with resonances.

  After meditation, he and Rynn planned to do two laps, which meant they’d be running three miles. That first lap they took slow, warming up their muscles. For the second lap, Rynn turned on the speed. He could see her using her mana core to power her muscles. Gray didn’t have that ability, and so he had to grit his teeth and work harder, pushing himself to keep up.

  Even though he stayed with her for most of the run, after they made the turn away from the pink palace, Rynn sped away, running ten feet ahead of him, then twenty, and then thirty.

  At the straightaway that led to the Fieldhouse, she really pulled ahead and he was left behind. But when he reached her, he didn’t slow down. “I’m doing it a third time. Do you want to join me?”

  “Yes.” Rynn sighed. “You love that you gave me that nickname, don’t you?”

  “No!” Rynn called to her over his shoulder.

  Soon, though, she was right behind him. They had just crossed the river when Freek and his orcs came tromping up. Over a dozen of the green monsters, a mixture of big men and women, surrounded Gray and Rynn, laughing, talking to shit to each other, and filling the air with their stink.

  Gray was surprised to have anyone with them on the field. He and Rynn had enjoyed Mama Cinders private tutoring as well as complete access to the exercise equipment and the bloodless blades.

  Now, though, they had to share their running track, and they’d already done two laps. It felt unfair. Gray, though, only laughed at them and at the world. On the one day he needed to concentrate on his running, there were all these orcs shattering his serenity. Maybe he did hate the world and all the bastards in it.

  Freek ran up behind Gray and kicked his ankle out from under him.

  Gray went down, and Freek ran past. “Oops. Sorry, little human, orcs are coming through.”

  Then all of his friends ran by, laughing, as Rynn stopped to let them pass.

  She crouched down next to him. “Are you all right?”

  “No. I think I fell on my pride. I’d get up and pick a fight, but they’re long gone. We can’t let this go. You understand that right?”

  Rynn sighed. “Is it snarling mad dog time? I’m sorry, I can’t help much. I already cut off my hair once. It’s too short for me to do it again so dramatically, and I’d doubt they’d wait around to watch me shave it.”

  “They didn’t trip you, Miss Yes. They tripped me. Let’s try and catch up to them.”

  He got up, and while his knees were skinned, his feet and ankles were fine. He took off, feeling angry. He wondered if he had a wrath resonance, could he channel that rage into mana? If so, he was pretty sure he’d never lack for mana ever again.

  Freek and his orcs were running fast, probably too fast for them to do more than one lap. From what Gray had seen, they’d been spending most of their time in the Chaos House in the Dice Markets and not exercising at all. They couldn’t have the stamina that he and Rynn had built up. He also knew that if the orcs were like gladiators, they were seeing who could run the fastest, and their pride was on the line.

  Something Blind John said to him came back to Gray. “Get a pack of dogs together, and the one who barks the loudest is going to lead the pack whether he can fight or not.”

  Gray chased after the orcs all the way around to the Fieldhouse, and while Gray was tired, he also knew that Freek would be exhausted.

  When they reached the Fieldhouse, all of the orcs were on the ground, breathing hard, or bent over, holding their knees. One guy was puking in a bucket near a tree. Mama Cinders wasn’t around, and Gray was glad. He wouldn’t have wanted her to see what he had to do.

  Gray ran up to Freek, who was just getting off the ground. He’d won the race and was smiling, wiping sweat from his big green forward. Slime dripped off his tusks. He turned on Gray. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to trip you.”

  “Yes, you did,” Gray said. “How about you let me get revenge in the sands over there. You and me, we spar, and first touch wins.”

  The big orc smiled. “Wouldn’t be fair. Word has it, you were born a nully. I was born with twelve inches of swinging mana core. Best teachers. Been doing this my whole life. You can’t say the same, can you?”

  “No,” Gray said. “But I have my own story. If I’m not a threat, then you don’t have anything to worry about.”

  Freek grinned. “Then let’s do first blood, then. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. It would make things too awkward with Rynny on the floor. We’re Third Barracks strong, right?”

  All of orcs shouted, “Third Barracks strong!”

  Gray knew going up against the orc with real swords was a bad idea, and yet, he couldn’t back down now. He couldn’t win, but all he had to do was show he wasn’t afraid, and that would be enough. He’d gotten his ass kicked before, but if he showed he had fight, the orcs would respect him. No more teasing. No more bullying. All he had to do was be a snarling mad dog for a minute.

  “Third barracks strong,” Gray said. “Let’s go.”

  Rynn walked up and stood between them. “No.”

  What was she doing?

  Freek grinned. “No, what?”

  Rynn stared right into the eyes of the gigantic green man. “No. My teachers in the Crown were better.”

  Freek looked confused. “Okay. I doubt that. Do you know who I am?”

  Gray closed his eyes and sighed. This girl was going to be the death of him. He knew exactly what she was doing.

  “You’re not Freek to the rest of Pit City. You’re Fenrik Rabbia, the scion of the Rabbia family. Some say you’ll be the next duke. Maybe you had good teacher, maybe. But mine were better. I’ll fight you to first blood using full mana. Nothing is off the table. If you want to see Third Barracks strong, I’m Third Barracks strong.”

  Gray could see the mana glowing on Rynn’s skin. She was getting mana from what she was feeling. How could that be? How did that work?

  Freek laughed. “I have no idea what a scion is, but you’re right. Back in the day, my family had their own big Pylon. Someday, when I’m in charge, we’re going to rebuild it and seal off the Weeping Well again. Until then, I’ll fight you, Rynny, though I don’t really like fighting girls. It never seems fair.”

  Rynn’s smile was ice cold. “You’re right. It’s not fair. But I’ll try and go easy on you.”

  Gray eased the elf girl back. “No, you won’t, because I was the one who challenged him first. Sorry, Rynn, but this is my fight.”

  Freek grinned. “That’s the spirit. Since you want to have fun, let’s go all the way. Let’s use real swords.”