TALENT BEYOND LIMIT: Stacking Many Talents

The Starlight Festival came after the first major harvest each year and was the largest celebration held in Green Hollow.

According to the old story, humanity had not begun on this world.

The First People came from the stars.

They crossed the great darkness and descended during a night filled with fire. Where they arrived, they built the First Hearth, and from that first settlement people eventually spread across the plains, rivers, forests and mountains.

Every family seemed to know a slightly different version.

Pam claimed the First People had descended inside enormous silver vessels.

”They came down from the sky shining brighter than the moon,” she told Simon one evening. ”My grandmother told me that when I was smaller than you.”

Simon, already old enough to question stories but not old enough to know when questioning Pam was pointless, frowned.

”I thought they came down on pillars of light.”

”That was another group.”

”You said there was only one First Hearth.”

Pam paused.

”You’re mixing the stories.”

”I’m repeating what you said.”

”No, you’re repeating it badly.”

Joe kept his attention on the vegetables he was sorting.

Once Simon started arguing and Pam decided she was right, there was very little reason for anyone else to participate.

The village elder’s version was at least consistent. He used the same formal recitation every year.

”The First People crossed the dark between the stars. They came beneath a new sky and raised the First Hearth. Wherever humanity travels, we remember those who crossed before us.”

Joe found the wording unusual.

A new sky. Crossed between the stars. Wherever humanity travels.

It sounded less like a creation story and more like a distorted account of a journey. That did not mean it was one. Myths from his previous world contained plenty of details that sounded meaningful only because someone already knew the conclusion they wanted to reach.

Joe simply remembered it.

The festival itself was easier to understand.

Families hung small lanterns outside their homes. Children collected flowers from the surrounding hills and twisted them around fences and doorways, while the communal ovens remained busy for most of the day.

Each household contributed what it could afford: flour, vegetables, preserved fruit, honey and occasionally meat. For one evening, almost everyone in Green Hollow ate better than usual.

At sunset, seven large braziers were lit around the village square to represent the Seven First Fires. Music, food and drinking followed afterward, usually continuing until children began falling asleep wherever they happened to be sitting.

For families with children of a certain age, however, Starlight carried another meaning.

Talent testing.

Any child who has reached seven but has not yet reached ten could take the test during the festival. Seven was the first opportunity, eight the second and nine the final chance.

After that, no further test was offered.

Nobody in Joe’s household knew why those ages mattered. Pam had three explanations, none of which agreed with each other, while Joseph claimed that people had always done it that way and seemed to consider the question settled.

Children who showed sufficient talent could enter martial training at the Talent Hall.

That possibility made Starlight considerably more serious for a household with a child approaching seven.

The year Simon first became eligible; Lily began preparing several weeks in advance.

She never admitted to being nervous.

Joe noticed anyway.

Simon received the larger piece whenever meat appeared. Lily stopped sending him on unnecessarily long errands and complained whenever Mike asked him to carry anything she considered too heavy.

When Simon developed a cough several weeks before the festival, she watched him as though the cough had deliberately chosen the worst possible time to appear.

”It’s a cough,” Mike said on the second evening.

Lily glared at him. ”I can hear that.”

”Then why do you keep staring at him?”

”Because Starlight is in two weeks.”

”The cough doesn’t know that.”

”It had better.”

Mike stared at her for a moment.

”What exactly do you expect me to do about it?”

”Nothing. I’m talking to the cough.”

Mike looked toward Joe as if expecting support.

Joe lowered his head before Lily noticed him smiling.

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Unfortunately, she noticed anyway.

”And what are you grinning about?”

”Nothing.”

”Then eat.”

Joe did.

Arguing with Lily when she was already worried about Simon seemed unnecessarily brave.

Simon himself enjoyed most of the attention. He complained about being treated like an invalid while making no effort to return the larger portions Lily placed in front of him.

Mary, barely more than a toddler, objected whenever she noticed Simon receiving something she had not.

”Mine.”

”You already ate yours,” Lily told her.

Mary pointed at Simon’s bowl.

”Mine.”

”No.”

Mary’s face began arranging itself for a louder argument.

Lily gave her a look.

Mary reconsidered.

Joe found that impressive. Very few things could interrupt Mary once she had decided to become unreasonable.

Joseph rarely spoke about Simon’s upcoming test. That probably meant he was concerned, although with Joseph it was sometimes difficult to tell. He could spend half an evening staring toward the hearth and then suddenly ask a question everyone else had finished discussing an hour earlier.

A few days before Starlight, he looked at Simon during dinner.

”When is your test?”

Everyone stopped.

Simon stared at him. ”Starlight.”

”I know.”

”That’s in three days.”

Joseph thought for a moment.

”Right.”

Pam shook her head.

”I told you yesterday.”

”You tell me many things.”

”Because you forget half of them.”

”Maybe I remember the important half.”

Pam looked offended enough to begin listing examples, and Mike quickly changed the subject.

The festival finally arrived beneath a clear sky.

By afternoon, Green Hollow barely resembled the same agricultural village. Flower garlands hung from doorways, lanterns lined the road and the square had been swept clean. Smoke from the communal ovens mixed with the smell of roasting meat and fresh bread.

Children ran between the houses while adults shouted after them with little visible effect.

As the sun disappeared behind the hills, the seven braziers were lit. Their flames rose against the darkening sky while stars gradually appeared above them.

The village elder stood beside the largest fire.

”We remember the dark.”

The villagers answered together.

”We remember the light.”

”We remember those who crossed before us.”

”We remember the First People.”

”We remember the First Hearth.”

”We keep it burning.”

The serious portion of the ceremony ended soon afterward.

Then the eligible children were called.

Simon, who had spent most of the afternoon explaining to Joe that there was nothing to be nervous about, suddenly became quiet.

Lily noticed immediately.

”Stand straight.”

Simon adjusted his shoulders. ”I am standing straight.”

”You look like you’re about to be sick.”

”I’m not.”

”Then stop looking like it.”

Mike sighed. ”Lily, leave him alone. You’re making him worse.”

”I’m helping.”

”You’re telling him how his face should look.”

”He’ll thank me later.”

Simon looked toward Joe.

Joe offered no assistance.

This was between Simon and the consequences of being Lily’s favorite.

One parent was allowed to accompany each child into the examination area. Mike went with Simon while the rest of the family remained outside.

Lily began pacing almost immediately.

Pam tolerated it for several minutes before saying, ”You’ll dig a trench if you keep that up.”

Lily stopped.

Then started walking in the opposite direction.

Pam sighed.

Mary was sitting on the ground beside Joseph, trying to stack pebbles on his knee. Joseph appeared not to notice until one rolled into his lap.

He picked it up, looked at it and then handed it back to her.

Mary accepted solemnly.

Children emerged from the examination building in small groups. Some were smiling. Others looked disappointed. One girl came out crying while her father walked beside her with a hand on her shoulder.

Her mother hurried over, but the people around them soon returned their attention to the door.

Joe noticed the difference.

A failed test was disappointing for any child, but the reaction surrounding the boys tended to linger longer. Sons could inherit land, perform heavier work and, if talented, potentially become martial trainees who changed a family’s circumstances.

Nobody said daughters were worthless. Mary was certainly spoiled enough to disprove that.

But affection and expectation were not the same thing.

Joe suspected Mary would eventually notice the difference herself.

”What did they do when Father tested?” he asked Pam.

Pam turned toward him.

”Your father failed.”

Joe waited.

Pam shrugged.

”He was eight. Came back hungry and complained that the running was unfair.”

Mike’s entire history of martial potential had apparently survived as one sentence.

”Did the stone do anything?”

”Not that I remember.”

”You went with him?”

”Of course I went.”

Joseph, still allowing Mary to stack stones on his leg, looked over.

”You stayed home.”

Pam frowned.

”No, I didn’t.”

”You were sick.”

Pam stared at him.

Joseph looked back toward Mary.

After several seconds, Pam said, ”Then someone told me about it.”

Joe almost smiled.

Nearly an hour passed before Simon finally appeared.

Mike followed behind him.

Lily stopped walking.

Joe knew the result before his father spoke. Mike was grinning too broadly to hide it.

”He passed.”

Lily crossed the distance immediately.

”You passed?”

Simon nodded, his earlier nervousness already disappearing beneath growing pride.

”I passed. The stone reacted almost immediately, and Mr. Hall said my physical test was good too. I was faster than two of the older boys.”

Mike looked at him.

”You were not racing the older boys.”

”They were running at the same time.”

”That isn’t the same thing.”

Simon ignored him.

Pam laughed, while Joseph slapped Mike on the shoulder hard enough to make him take a step.

Lily held Simon by both shoulders and looked him over as though passing the test might have changed his appearance.

”I told you to stand straight.”

Simon grinned. ”I passed.”

”I heard you.”

”You said I looked sick.”

”You did.”

”I still passed.”

”Then apparently the stone doesn’t care about your face.”

Simon looked pleased enough to take that as a compliment.

Within minutes, relatives and neighbors surrounded him.

Lily did not discourage them.

If anything, she became increasingly willing to repeat the result to anyone who had somehow failed to hear it the first time.

Joe was happy for Simon.

He was also curious.

It took until later that evening, after food and attention had reduced Simon’s excitement to a level where conversation became possible, before Joe managed to get a clearer explanation.

Simon still did most of the talking.

”There was a black stone in the room. Not normal stone either. It was smoother than the ones near the river, and Mr. Hall told me to put my hand on it.”

Joe listened.

”It became warm almost immediately.”

”Everyone’s did?”

”No. That’s the point.” Simon leaned forward, pleased to finally know something Joe did not. ”Thomas went before me and nothing happened. He stood there forever. When I touched it, these bright lines appeared inside.”

”What kind of lines?”

Simon frowned.

”Lines.”

”Straight?”

”No.”

”Circles?”

”I said lines, Joe. Bright ones. They moved through the stone.”

That was more useful.

”What happened after that?”

”They made us run, jump and hold positions. Mr. Hall checked my arms and legs and asked questions.”

”What questions?”

”Whether I get sick often. Whether I’ve broken bones. Things like that.”

Simon continued describing the test, adding enough unnecessary detail that Joe eventually had to separate useful information from everything else.

Theodere had appeared only near the end.

Simon spoke differently when he mentioned him.

Master Theodere was already an older man, probably somewhere around fifty, though nobody in the village seemed certain of his exact age. He had been involved with martial training in the region for longer than Simon had been alive and was treated with a degree of respect that went well beyond ordinary village seniority.

According to Simon, Theodere barely spoke during the testing.

”He looked at everyone once, then Mr. Hall told him who passed. When he looked at me, I think he nodded.”

Mike, eating nearby, glanced over.

”He looked in your direction.”

”He nodded.”

”Maybe.”

”He nodded at me.”

Joe decided that detail could remain unresolved.

Out of several dozen children who had tested that year, only nine were accepted.

That number mattered more.

Joe now knew the test involved a black stone that reacted only to certain children, followed by physical checks and questions. Theodere made or approved the final decision, although Mr. Hall appeared to manage most of the process.

What the stone measured remained unknown.

Simon clearly understood even less.

The important fact was simple.

He had passed.

And beginning in two days, Simon would enter the Talent Hall.