CHAPTER 44: CLUBS

The briefing hall smelled like chalk and hot wax. Proctor Pierce tapped the board again. "Red span has no wardlight and a crosswind lane. Show me how you keep your people upright without frying them or flinging them."

Aldric smiled too wide. "Easy. Aura anchors. Lightning line. We pull them across."

Pierce looked tired. "And if you slip? And if you snap your own rope? And if a student touches your live line because they panic?"

Aldric’s smile thinned.

"Valcrey," Pierce said.

"Rope, ribs, and bodies where they pay rent," I said. "Two anchors, one moving. Bone Warden for the wedge. No light. People first."

"Demo," Pierce said. "Out to the field. Five minutes."

We took the near yard. Ward posts marked a low practice pit. A beam lay across its center with two gaps. A wind frame hummed to blow a steady push. Students formed a ring fast. The rope of attention pulled tight.

Cael drifted to the rope. He didn’t speak; he watched, cool and calm. Seraphine stood straight-backed near the judge’s chair, hands folded, expression mild.

Gareth jogged to my side with a coil of rope and a grin. "Captain."

"Front foot," Elara called from the rope, because she lived to make me honest.

I set Marrow at the near post. "Set." He braced and became a post. Bone Warden rolled from Shade at my call—boar chassis, rib-cage shell, two rib hooks bolted tight. "Warden—wedge."

I looped rope through a rib, split a thong, tied a Prusik that bit only under load, and set a second line through the far post so the rope ran in a shallow V. Gareth hardened soil around the posts with a touch and a grunt.

Aldric laughed. "Charming. Museum tricks."

"Watch the trick," I said.

Wind kicked. I stepped onto the beam, breath steady, Internal pulsing only when heel met wood. I moved the Prusik with the empty hand, slid, set, breathed. Step. Set. Slip. The rope held me on the beat where wind tried to take me. Not a yank. A hand at my collar saying: not today.

"Gareth," I said.

He followed, slower, weight honest. I kept the line live without pulling him. Warden wedged the near end so the beam stopped pretending to skate. We crossed. No drama. No light. No falls.

"Now show the break," Pierce called.

I nodded. "Pelham," I said, and the reluctant noble flinched, then squared. We had spoken two short sentences the day before that ended with him nodding at his own pace. Today I needed that nod again.

"Here," I said, handing him the free line. "You hold this count clean or I yell and Elara eats you."

Elara raised a brow. Pelham gripped like the rope owed him money. Good.

I kicked the beam. The near joint slipped an inch. The crowd hissed. Wind pushed. The V bit. The Prusik held. Warden’s wedge kept the beam honest and not heroic.

"Cross," I told Gareth. He crossed. I crossed behind him and kept the line moving with one hand while the other slid and set. Pelham held. His arms shook. He didn’t drop the rope.

On the last step the wind frame bellowed. The push turned ugly. I set my heel, pulsed, and felt the rope’s answer run down my arm: living force, not a number. We came off the far post into a knot of relief.

Applause. Not wild. Real. Students watched each other, measuring; then they looked at their hands to see if they could make their hands do that.

Pierce chalked three ticks under METHOD.

Aldric stepped onto the beam with his lightning line. It looked good. He made the first four steps clean. On the fifth, the line snapped hard when a gust shifted, and the shock threw his hip off. He caught his balance with aura and a curse. Two students flinched back from the crackle as it snapped near the rope line. Pierce marked a neat minus and didn’t explain it. Aldric saw it anyway.

"Captains," Pierce said, voice carrying. "Relay in seven days. Build something that will not kill children. Class dismissed."

The crowd spilled into clubs again. The ward hum faded behind talk and bets and plans. Seraphine stepped close while people were still clapping each other on the back.

"You’re very good at making small things look large," she said. "The trick will wear off."

"Only if I stop doing the small things," I said.

She tapped the rope at my wrist with one gloved finger. "You and I both know the crowd loves a story more than a solution. When they want a story, they will come to me. When you want your solution remembered, you’ll come to me too."

"Or I’ll keep putting people across in one piece and let the crowd catch up," I said.

Her smile didn’t change. Her eyes did. "We’ll see."

Lyra cut between us with two runners and a crate of colored flags. "Captains," she said, brisk and clean. "Refuge asks you don’t practice near the south walk between bells two and four. We’re staging cots. And if you rig lines on the main lawn, tag them. I don’t want a child strangled by a clever idea."

"Done," I said.

She paused, looked at the V-rig, then at Pelham. "Nice hold," she told him. He blinked, then stood taller by an inch he hadn’t earned yesterday. "Also, Valcrey—your shim work on the Rune kettle? Who taught you that vent turn?"

"No one," I said. "Machines want to breathe. Same as people."

Something like respect flickered and hid. "Fine," she said. "If you keep doing smart things with other people’s equipment, come to Refuge first. We’ll make it official."

"Understood," I said.

A runner trotted up with a folded note. "For Captain Valcrey," he said, breathless.

The seal was Liora’s. I broke it.

Plain ink, neat hand.

Gate Four residue. Same stain. Do not discuss this in public. Bring Lantern and Sapper to my south office at bell three. Come alone.

The edges of the page were smudged with a dull shine. Resin. Iron-pine.

’Not an accident,’ I thought. ’Someone wants our teeth loose.’

Gareth peered at the paper, then looked away when he saw the seal. "Card night still on?"

"Still on," I said. "If I’m late, start without me. No cheating."

"Especially," Marcus echoed from somewhere behind him.

Cael stepped in close enough that his words wouldn’t carry. "Relay will eat anyone who thinks lightning is a harness," he said. "Keep making the floor honest."

"You too," I said.

He almost smiled. "See you at dawn."

He left like he had never been there.

I tucked the note away. The yard clattered and laughed and bargained. Wind pulled at the flags over the rope line. The kettle hissed, this time like a good stove.

The proctor at the board hammered one more sheet up: TEAM LISTS POSTED AT DUSK.

We didn’t have to wait for dusk.

Liora stepped into the yard herself, wrist bands quiet, hair bright as the wardlight. Heads turned like she had tugged them. She didn’t raise her voice.

"Captains," she said. "With me."

I glanced at Gareth and Marcus. "Rope bag. Warden frame. Lantern," I said. "Bring them to the south office in five."

They nodded and ran.

Seraphine watched me go. Her smile said she already knew what story she wanted to tell the school about whatever would happen next.

I followed Liora toward the clinic wing. The yard noise thinned behind us. The hall air cooled. My palm still remembered heat from the kettle handle. My leash hummed steady. Hollow clicked once from the rafters like a quiet clock.

Liora opened her door and let me in.

On her table lay a gate tooth smeared with the same iron-pine resin as the kettle.

She looked at me like a teacher and a field officer at once. "Tell me what you see," she said.

I did.

And then the bell over the clinic door rang the pattern for ward breach.