he considered it, the heavier the implications became. Can you trust Delphi? Of course he could; she had kept his secret after all, and she had already helped him several times before. But what if she’s wrong? What if you throw the challenge and end up killed? But she had sounded so certain. Still, no amount of rationalizing changed the fact that he’d have to injure himself. What kind of injury? There was the time he was poisoned, and the other time he was stabbed in the leg. Yes, throwing a challenge sounded simple in theory, but it was far from.
Soon the Proctor arrived, and the men followed him through one of the many labyrinth passages. I can’t throw the challenge. There were too many risks, and by the time Tobias reached the grey room, he was sure his decision was final.
Then his eyes locked on to Leila, and his heart lurched.
I’m throwing the challenge.
A large wooden table sat in the center of the room covered in ceramic tiles raised like platforms atop silver rods and springs. The men wrapped around the table, staring down at it in confusion, the layout vaguely familiar.
“Welcome to your fifth challenge,” the Proctor said.
The usual line of women sat as spectators. Leila wore a surly scowl, while Delphi stared straight at Tobias.
“The twelve of you have proven yourselves stronger and truer than those who have fallen. We have tested your brawn, your valor, and your heart, and you have shown yourselves worthy enough to continue on in the pursuit of our Savior’s hand. Still, there is one facet of your being we have yet to test: your mind.”
A burst of light shot through each tile, setting the room aglow. Soon the light faded, leaving each tile with a black symbol: a heart, an arrow, a shield. Tobias had seen these symbols before—the candle, the pearls, and that all-seeing eye. We’re playing Raphael’s card game.
“Before you is a game,” the Proctor confirmed. “One that tests the soundness of your mind. Each tile holds a symbol. Learn their place on this table, and pray your memory serves you well, for these symbols will disappear in three, two, one…”
Light poured from the table yet again, and then it faded, leaving behind nothing but plain tiles.
“Zero.”
Some of the men groaned, but Tobias kept quiet. He remembered where many of the symbols sat, could see them as if they were still right in front of him.
“You’ll be called one by one.” The Proctor’s voice came out flat, bored with the challenge before it had begun. “You will place your hand on a tile, revealing its symbol. Then you must match it to its partner. If you reveal an all-seeing eye, you must solve a riddle, one that pertains to Her Holiness, our Savior. The answer to this riddle can be found among the tiles.”
This isn’t so bad. The challenge was easy, and throwing it would be simple enough. But how could he possibly injure himself playing a card game?
“For each correct match you give, you will continue on in this challenge,” the Proctor said. “But answer incorrectly, and the consequence will be…unpleasant.”
The snap of a lever sounded. A spring-loaded mallet swung up from beneath a tile and smashed down onto its surface, shattering it.
Oh. That’s how.
“Intellect,” the Proctor said. “Make your move.”
Tobias tensed. We’re taking turns. It was a natural part of the game, yet he hadn’t considered it. I need to lose first. What if someone fails before I do? But that someone certainly wouldn’t be the Intellect.
Raphael eyed the setup apathetically, barely assessing the challenge before pressing down on a tile. Light shined through the ceramic piece, revealing its symbol—a sword—and he casually shuffled around the table, squeezing between Garrick and Beau as he placed his hand on a second tile. A beam of light shot through the ceramic, and as it faded, a sword was revealed—a perfect match.
“The Intellect continues in the game.” The Proctor cocked his head at the next man. “Dragon, your move.”
Drake clenched his fists, menacing as always, but that was hardly relevant to the challenge. Is he smart? He looks like a big, brutish ogre, more muscle than brains. Tobias waited impatiently as Drake placed his large, tattooed hand on a tile, revealing a chalice. He circled the table slowly, prolonging the anticipation, then finally stopped at a second tile, matching the chalice to its counterpart.
Tobias relaxed. Two men had made it through, and he prayed to God his laurel would be