Pella stared into the swirling cobalt current. Then, a momentary eddy in the water chute revealed a familiar, haunting dark shape. For three heartbeats, the churning water formed the distinct outline of an armored warrior holding a splintered lance of tightly packed river foam. The very ‘river knight’ that had turned its back on her during her third-circle academy check two years ago, leading to her public humiliation and expulsion from the guild.
Senior Examiner Varo Nenn, standing beside her in his oilskin mantle, grabbed the railing with both hands, his mouth open in amazed recognition. ‘Look at the knight’s right shoulder, Pella! Look at the cut joint!’
Through the spray, Pella saw the truth that had been hidden from her for two years. The knight’s shoulder was not whole. It was scarred by a jagged, blackened furrow where a heavy bronze binding clamp had sliced through the elemental matrix. The knight had not turned away from her because she lacked talent or lineage. It had turned away because it was fleeing the painful clamp of the Sluice Crown.
‘It was never your failure, child,’ Varo Nenn murmured, tears cutting clean tracks through the river grime on his round cheeks. ‘Hal Rook’s daughter was rejected because you brought the true water to the altar—the living, free current of the river. The knight knew that if it accepted your summon, the academy binding would drag it down into this boiling cage. It fled to save its own soul.’
