Volithur drank down the elixir and began to push energy into his shin bones. So far, he had completed his skull, both femur bones, both humerus bones in his arms, and now was working on the tibia bones at the front of his shins. He had grown tired of getting shin splints when they were forced to do too many running or jumping exercises. Once those bones were saturated, he pnned on moving to the fibu bones that were behind and to the outer edge of the tibia.

  The library had several books with drawings of anatomy. He had taken to studying the bones to better get an understanding of which ones were most critical to target. The book made distinctions that he hadn’t. For example, he had treated the skull as a single, monolithic bone instead of several fused bones.

  His progress at body enhancement had rgely come at the cost of exhausting the energy reserves in his soul. His progress towards level four had been zeroed out after he made a push to finish the humerus bones in his upper arms. He had regained some of those reserves since then, but he still spent half of what he drew in every day on his bones.

  He was sorely tempted to jump ahead to strengthening his muscles, but Volithur had learned enough about the process to know that was a bad idea. Enhanced muscles would tear tendons apart. If muscles and tendons were enhanced, then unenhanced bones were in danger of snapping from the tension. And, of course, the muscles were metabolically expensive. If you enhanced them before the circutory system, they would drain oxygen and calories from the blood and starve the other tissue.

  The proper order of events was: bones, tendons, circution, respiration, digestion, muscles, nerves, and flesh. The word flesh, while most obviously referring to skin, also included everything not part of the previous categories. Things like eyes fell into that bucket.

  Yet even without specifically enhancing more than a few bones so far, Volithur experienced quite a few benefits. His entire body could better use cosmic energy – a side effect of the bone marrow having been converted already.

  The one disheartening thing he had learned about body enhancement was that even if he did everything perfectly, his body would only be up to the standard of his soul. In other words, his body could be enhanced to a degree that corresponded to level three and no more. When he increased his soul level in the future, he would have to revisit everything he had previously done to increase the potency of his body to meet its new potential.

  Cultivation never ended. Even the lords at level ten weren’t done with their paths. There were a handful of people on Tian who had reached level eleven. The Lord General, Volithur learned, was not among them. He likely never would be, as he had turned to war instead of devoting himself to centuries of closed door cultivation.

  When Volithur used up the elixir, he switched to aural cultivation. Soon dinner time arrived, and after that, his lesson with Khana. Upon arriving at the library, he discovered that the girl did not wait alone. The Head Scribe sat at a desk in the cssroom, tapping his finger impatiently.

  “Ward Harridan,” the Head Scribe said by way of greeting.

  “Master Scribe.”

  “I would like you to return to css starting tomorrow.”

  “I was forbidden by Master Aramar, Master Scribe.” In truth, Volithur didn’t see a point to the css. He had gotten enough from the lessons already and would rather spend those three hours a day in cultivation.

  “Master Zara countermanded the commands of Master Aramar. You are permitted back in css, Ward Harridan.”

  Volithur considered the Head Scribe. Had he been required to attend css, the Marshal would have issued an order to that effect. Instead, he was being asked. Somehow, his presence had value to the Head Scribe. Perhaps enough to get him additional resources. “I will be blunt with you, Master Scribe. I have seen great benefits spending the extra time in cultivation. I would need compensation in resources to make up for the loss of three hours.”

  The Head Scribe’s mouth puckered in distaste. “Do you not want to spend another session in the Evergreen Institute’s cosmic chamber?”

  “Could I not attend the competition without spending my time in css?”

  “Ward Harridan. I would lose much face in front of the household if a member of my competition team didn’t attend my csses. I cannot allow it.”

  Volithur shrugged. “Master Scribe, the possibility of a session in a cosmic chamber isn’t better than the certainty of cultivation. Over the course of a year, the lost hours would add up to over a thousand. I ask for resources not to be difficult, but because otherwise this is a loss for me.”

  The Head Scribe huffed. “I don’t know what you expect from me. I can’t throw open the vault for the benefit of a commoner.”

  “Then I must respectfully decline, Master Scribe.”

  “Cosmic water. I can get you cosmic water.”

  “A worthless elixir,” Volithur said. “No thanks.”

  “It’s not tracked closely. I can give you a rge vial daily.”

  Volithur paused. His rough estimation indicated that he would still be losing out on the deal, but not by a lot. Plus the elixir could be more efficiently used to enhance his body. The spot in his schedule between sparring and lunch, currently used for enhancement, could be changed to cultivation. Then he could enhance after css using the elixir. If he took into account the opportunity to enter the cosmic chamber once more, it was a good deal.

  “Very well, Master Scribe. A rge vial at the start of css and I will stay.”

  The Head Scribe sniffed. “Fine. You can cultivate with it during css for all I care. Just keep your calcutions skills sharp for the competition.”

  Khana, standing silently as if used to being ignored, clenched her jaw at the mention of the competition. Volithur cleared his throat. “Will Khana be competing this year?”

  “That seems unlikely given her circumstances. It would make more sense to give another student the opportunity. I will have to weigh my options.”

  Volithur bowed. “My apologies, Master Scribe, but I have another condition.”

  The Head Scribe scowled. “Now you want to dictate my team roster?”

  “Only the one spot.”

  “I will give you an option, Ward Harridan. I can provide you with a tea powder elixir prior to departure for the tournament, or I can make the politically impractical call to bring Khana for the recital event. Which will it be?” The Head Scribe spoke as if he had pced Volithur in checkmate. Judging by the serene gaze Khana fixed on him, she expected a different outcome.

  I am such an idiot. “It would be a shame to forego that elixir. But I choose to have Khana at the competition, Master Scribe.”

  Volithur expected annoyance, or confusion, or surprise from the Head Scribe. Instead the man’s expression held something totally unexpected: pity. The Head Scribe sighed. “Very well, Ward Harridan. Khana will join us one final time.”

  After the Head Scribe departed, Khana remained where she stood, pying with her hair and holding back a smile with very little success. Volithur cleared his throat. “I was pretty close to my natural voice yesterday.”

  “What are we going to work on when you are done working on your voice?”

  “I’m sure we can figure out something,” he said.

  “I hope so. I… really enjoy teaching you, Volithur.”

  The sound of his real name sent a chill racing down the trunk of his body. He rushed ahead with the conversation. “I’ve been practicing a sensory training method from a manual. Maybe you could help with that.”

  “You are getting training methods from books? That can’t be very helpful. I can teach you the way my mother did.” Khana paused. “She died in battle when I was eight. But before that, she used to train me.”

  Volithur swallowed. “Is that why your uncle is your guardian?”

  “My mother died, then they forced my father to leave since his only tie to the family was marriage. He wasn’t a very attentive father anyway. Uncle Rowan treated me well. Until recently. He lost patience with my slow progress. He has younger children and would rather steer resources to them than a lost cause.”

  “I don’t think you’re a lost cause.”

  “I know you don’t. It’s nice having one person who believes in me.”

  The tension rose, and Volithur rushed to fill the silence. “What is the training method you mentioned?”

  Khana smiled. “It’s a game called ‘mimic monkey’. One of us moves energy in a pattern and the other one has to copy it exactly. Then we trade roles. Both participants get a lot of practice interpreting their mental senses. Techniques are useful for some people, but my mother always thought more intuitive training had better long term outcomes.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s try it.”