Simon didn’t have to wait too long to take the plunge. Though it sometimes took weeks of exploration and play through the vast and crowded city of Zurari for him to find the next Selection, the next one was only a few days later. Truthfully, he hadn’t even been looking for it. He’d been dragging his feet, looking for an excuse to find some new bit of preparation he could undertake to delay it a little longer while he dashed about enjoying his carefree life.

That all changed when he was eating a skewer in one of the river markets, and he heard the familiar high-pitched sounds of pipes not so far away. That was when Simon knew it was time. While he wasn’t quite in danger of giving up, he definitely felt like he was spinning his wheels, which he believed was one of the biggest dangers of the Pit.

Anyone trapped in here who lived long enough to get the hang of things without going insane could do anything and be anyone. Simon often reflected that it was like a raindrop in an ocean. It would be very easy for Simon to just disappear until he died and ended up back in that cabin. He could just become Nijam. He could live his whole life as a Magi or a spice merchant or whatever he wanted. As long as his hidden stash of gold held out, Simon had a very easy life, and whether it was fear of what was coming next or some hormonal change he’d inflicted on himself, part of him wanted to bask in that indolence a while longer.

Today, those thoughts just made him walk faster. A while longer could very easily become forever, and though it would have been a good life, it would make for a bad trend. Simon could very easily see how it would be harder to escape that trap than not if he started walking down that road of enjoying himself.

Why not live a thousand wonderful lives with a thousand different women, Simon thought as he caught up to the parade. You could have new sons to replace Seyom and new wives to replace Freya.

He ignored those terrible ideas and instead squeezed through the crowd toward the robed, masked men. Their outfits might be colorful, but most of their souls were black. None of that mattered to Simon right now, though; all that mattered was acting like just another kid in the crowd and jumping when they threw sweets in his direction. Most of the children might never get Selected, but every one of them loved the parades.

The procession took half an hour before it wound its way to a large courtyard that held three tents. Sometimes, there was a fourth, but this space wasn’t big enough to hold it. Simon had no idea what that meant, but he hoped to find out.

What if you aren’t selected? Simon thought as he pressed forward with most of the other kids around, a juggler who was making the balls he was flinging around disappear one at a time. What if they just pass you right over?

Simon ignored those worries too and pressed forward, trying to seem the most eager of all the children as the Magi in a red lion mask made the now familiar statements. “Which of you is the bravest? Who can feel that spark of magic in their souls? Who loves our God-King most of all?”

Each of these was met with roars of high-pitched voices, eager to be the one that was picked, but Simon made sure he was loudest of all on that final question. To him, the Magi were a secretive order with knowledge he wanted, but more than that they were a cult. To the masses, they were a religious cult, and between that and his inside knowledge about the type of people they were looking for, he hoped that would be enough.

With great theatrics, the Magi selected from the children one at a time. They claimed to be able to stare into the souls and determine who might have the spark of greatness. Simon knew what they were really looking for, of course, but he kept that knowledge from his face as he tried to feign wonder and excitement. He was rewarded for his efforts by being the third one to be picked out of six children.

He was taken by the hand and ushered into the first tent, which turned out to be the one that had the orb, decorative paintings, and wall hangings he'd seen on other nights. Simon never understood why this tent was the first they visited, but he would now.

“You six are special,” a Magi with a green bird mask intoned. “But before we can proceed, we must find out how special you really are.”

There was a big song and dance then, where the masked Magi promised to reveal the secrets of the universe to the children but didn’t really say much at all. None of it interested Simon. It was more mythology than mysticism.

That continued for several minutes before they finally got to the introductions. Before they were allowed to approach the orb, each child was asked for their name, along with a few other questions. Simon noted that none of them seemed to have much, if anything, to do with the amount of magical power someone might have; they were more like something you’d find on a census.

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Fortunately, Simon wasn’t asked first, which gave him time to come up with a convincing lie in an attempt to make himself seem like an ideal candidate. While he watched each of the children come up to the orb, he rushed to decide which clan his parents should hail from and whether or not he should tell them how his nonexistent parents died.

Each time a child touched the orb, it brightened the room a little bit, but the effect was not dramatic. The Magi in the green bird mask noted the color and the brightness and gave some insight into what such a combination might mean, though Simon felt like that was probably made up.

“Ah, pale blue, fourth magnitude,” the man answered after the first child was done. “You would make for a wonderful poet, child.”

Simon didn’t really understand what they were measuring, but even though it seemed more like horoscopes or mood rings than anything, he still committed everything the men said to memory.

What if they have a way of compelling me to tell the truth like Freya did? Flashed briefly through his mind at the last moment as he stood and introduced himself.

No such magic restrained his tongue as he announced. “I am Nijam of Dyers Road, and I am but a humble orphan. My parents died when I was very young. So, I don’t know what clan I hail from, but—” Simon planned to give the group at least the highlights of his well-planned sob story, but before he could do that, he was waved off, and he was directed to grip the orb.

He did so, and for a moment, it flared quite brightly before settling down into a dull red. Simon couldn’t gauge anyone’s reaction to that because they wore masks. The only indication he was offered was “Ember colored, third magnitude. I can see you've led a very hard life.”

Simon spent the rest of his time in that tent wondering if they made the light red because of his sob story or if his suffering had somehow made it red. Do souls have a color? He wondered. Surely, if they did, his magic would burn brighter than all the children he was in here with, right?

After the magi had finished examining their souls, they congratulated them and said, “Each of you has passed and is fit to be a servant of the God-King. Let us feast,” before escorting all of them to the second tent.

Simon was skeptical of that. Usually, they picked exactly one child from each Selection that he’d observed. Sometimes it was zero, and sometimes it was two, but never more than that in his experience. So, he found it difficult to believe that his entire group had suddenly passed. It was far more likely that this was a trick for purposes he hadn’t yet discerned.

When they reached the second tent, he found it to be as luxurious a place as one could imagine that still might be packed away in an evening. It was dominated in the center by a broad grill that warmed the whole place and made it smell divine. Most of the rest of the place was taken up by tables already filled with food, but some room was still spared for tapestries, statues, and piles of cushions for them to sit on while they ate.

Still, despite everything else, the tables were the most dominant feature, and they were stuffed with food of all types. There were roasted birds spinning on spits, meat pies, and candies and pastries of nearly every variety that he’d seen in the city. Simon had spent his time in the city eating only the common food that an orphan like himself was likely to be able to afford, which meant stale bread and skewers of meat of uncertain origin. Compared to that, this feast was enough to make his stomach growl.

The women he’d seen so often before were here too, though they wore veils, so he could see no faces. “Help yourself,” the red lion-masked man said with a wave of his hand. “Whatever you like, as much as you like. Simply ask one of our beautiful cooks, and they shall grant it to you.”

The other children hesitated, just like Simon did. He was pretty sure they worried they’d get in trouble for obeying, but Simon wondered what the game was. This was a test, but not an explicit one. He lagged behind at the back of the group while the first boy stepped up. “I-I’d like one of the cheese breads, please, and perhaps, a bit of the shawarma if you wouldn’t mind.”

The street urchin had eyes as big as saucers, and Simon was sure he’d go back for seconds and thirds if he was allowed. He might eat his own weight in food this afternoon. Simon didn’t blame him, though. Just this much was a fairy tale if you were a poor child.

“And you shall have both,” the green-masked Magi said. “Who would you like to serve it to you?”

The boy seemed confused and then stuck out his hand at random, pointing at the nearest woman. “Does it really matter?” he asked.

“I suppose it doesn’t,” the red lion-masked Magi agreed half-heartedly.

It did, though. Simon was sure of it. He just wasn’t sure why. As the first girl and second boy started to make their selections, Simon struggled to figure this out. There were three women here. Were there always three women when I spied on these Selections at night? He wondered.

He was pretty sure that there were usually four. More importantly, he was pretty sure that there were usually three women with dark auras and one that was brighter. Is that it? He thought as he moved forward in line. Two Magi, three tents, four women, five children? Is that a real pattern, or am I connecting dots that don't make sense?