The field of competition has narrowed by one when the suns rise the next morning: someone has already dropped out. It's an individual sign up—a Roften border orphan someone calls Iseul, but Allayria can't recall her face.

Part of this is due to the current fog of sleep deprivation clouding around her brain: her rest the night before had been uneven. She had been in a nightshift, hair tied up in a haphazard, tumbling bun, when the knock had echoed across her shadowed room. Ruben had been standing outside, plate of food in hand, and he busted in without more than a greeting grunt, a bleary-eyed, slightly ruffled Lei stumbling in his tracks. The lieutenant had taken one look at the thin straps of her nightgown and turned beet red.

The Skill master wanted to go over all the candidates with them and when she asked about the next day's tests he had waved a hand at her.

"Mental acuity tests, and the like," he had said. "You will do wonderfully, I am sure. But I would like both of your impressions before I finalize the rest of this—"

Now, only a few hours later, Ruben directs them to rows of individual tables at the center of the training room. On each is a strange, metallic cube that has various grooves and crevices etched around a series of numbers and symbols. No one reaches for theirs, but they all have eyes on them, absorbing as much as they can before the test starts.

"Your task is to find a way to open the box," Ruben tells them. "Clear enough? Wonderful. Begin."

Cubes are snatched quickly off the desks but it becomes apparent that the task is not so simple. Allayria runs her hands around the grooves, searching for a hidden latch or switch, but finds nothing. The only one who appears to progress is one of the Solveig recruits—a lean, brown-haired non-Skiller who Allayria had heard called Peter. He seems to be in some kind of wordless communication with the cube: its secrets sing beneath his fingers, and he twists and turns it almost as if in a rehearsed duet.

Next to him, Durai's eyes keep darting over to Peter's cube, and his brow scrunches as he tries to keep up with the rapid, deft movements of the Solveigian's fingers.

"It should be noted," Ruben says suddenly, "that all cubes are unique. Looking at your neighbor's will not help you solve the problem."

But the first to break the cube isn't Peter—it's Caj, who literally breaks the cube, setting both ends of the mottled metal surface on the table in front of him. A sea of furious faces whip toward Ruben, but he only grins, indicating that Caj can leave.

"Do not forget the paper inside," he reminds the Smith-caller, who simply scoops the folded piece up and trudges outside.

While the others mumble in barely audible mutiny, Allayria fights to contain the wave of envy gripping her, because she really could slice this stupid box open and be done with it too, but there's no way to do that discretely.

"Think of it as a puzzle with different levers being pressed at different times to elicit a positive response. With often-used locks like this, there are always tell-tale signs of which levers get pressed."

Allayria's eyes fly open as the memory of the thief's words, spoken over a different box on a different day, washes over her.

I can't break this thing, but I can read it.

A smile, slow and serpentine, crawls across Allayria's face and she shuts her eyes once more, prodding all the grooves and hidden levers with her fingers as well as her mind.

She works it out eventually, much like she worked that safe in Morgalth, and even though Peter has italready figured out and leaves before she's finished, she feels a certain pride in the fact that she is third in finding a way in. But as she starts pressing all the buttons in the correct order she glances up, catching Ruben's gaze.

Once I complete this thing he's going to send me outside.

She glances over to Lei, whose fingers are skimming the surface, but his gaze is elsewhere, flitting over the other hopefuls' expressions and the cubes in their hands. Allayria's fingers twitch, but she pulls them back reluctantly.

The candidates are succeeding or failing in various degrees. Allayria catches sight of Hiran first, positioned smack in the center of the room. He's tossing the cube in the air, his hand dipping down every time it hits his palm. Elsewhere, Fae Urilong has hers on the table and she has squatted down, eye-level with it, a sharp keenness in her narrowed stare. Her friend, the Beast-caller, is on her other side, forehead shiny and cheeks stained red.

The young sign up, Finn, actually has the cube in his mouth. Allayria notices how Ruben's eyes keep flicking over to him, some trepidation rippling across his features every time he reaffirms the cube is still in there. On Finn's other side Tara, the blond, tanned Roftenian, is sketching her symbols out onto a piece of parchment while on her other side Rahul is pressing in on them, holding his cube down low to shield it from the others' view. Felix, the Roftenian with the cat, throws his cube at the wall, looking vaguely disappointed when it tumbles back, undamaged.

"Ha!" Rahul yelps, flinging half of his cube, clutched tightly in his fist, into the air. He strides out of the room, paper in hand, and Allayria decides to unlock hers. Ruben and Lei are both here; they should be able to give a report if anything interesting happens.

The three men look up as she enters, and Rahul's eyebrows raise an insulting height.

Seconds bleed into minutes and soon the other recruits begin to trickle in. Fae is next, looking a little sweaty but immensely proud, and then Tara and Hiran come in at once. Hiran gives Rahul a genial pat on the back and smiles over at Allayria.

Julia, one of Beinsho's soldiers, is in next, and then Finn, of all people, walks in. Everyone stares a little bit longer than they should, but he simply plops down on the ground, back against the wall, and unrolls his bit of paper.

To Allayria's delight, Kali comes in next, looking ill-tempered. Her eyes dart over to Finn, thunder seeming to rumble in her expression, and she stalks over to Peter and a grinning Hiran.

Lei follows her, and though his expression is as indecipherable as ever, his glare pins Allayria as he plunks into the seat next to her.

Eventually Ruben enters the room with the last of the group: Fae's friend and a grumpy looking Durai. He doesn't say whether they completed the task or not, but judging by their expressions, Allayria thinks it unlikely.

"Now everyone should have a piece of parchment," he says and the recruits' conversations lull into silence. "On it, as many of you have already seen, is your next challenge."

He taps on the door behind him and two soldiers enter, carrying a table between them. They set it in front of Ruben and Allayria notes the boxes sitting on it. They come in a variety of shapes—tall and thin to miniscule.

"On this table are seven boxes," Ruben says. "Within each of these boxes is an item that may or may not help you in the next puzzle. Using the information given to you on the parchment, you must select a box and write its number and your name down on the back of your paper. When everyone has submitted their paper we will read them out and distribute your items."

The crowd murmurs and a small, enigmatic smile crosses Ruben's face.

"Let's give it an hour, shall we?" he says, glancing up at the suns streaming in from the glass ceiling. "Begin."

All at once the sound of paper crinkling fills the room as the others open their clues. Allayria looks to the boxes instead.

The one on the far left has a small card emblazoned with a "1" in front of it, and it is short and squat. The second box is much taller and thinner, and the box next to it is tall too, but wide. The fourth box is triangular, and the fifth box is so small a walnut would fit snugly in it. Allayria looks at the sixth and, after a moment, realizes it's the same shape as the second box—tall and thin—and... yes, the seventh is the same size and shape as the third box as well.

She sketches them sloppily onto a scrap piece of paper before turning reluctantly to the clue.

Allayria opens it up and reads:

We boxes hold what you may seek

A blade, a drug, an old antique

Two of us hold something to feed

Two more hold instead something to read

Twice again in bins is a tool for a crime

And in one more is a face to tell time

A question queries itself in your head:

Is it perception you'll need or a language never said?

To answer here are first these four clues

So you may decide which path to choose:

First, no brother stays in the same shape

But tall and small hold your escape

Second, no time or book touches the ends

The left book talks of riddles and the right book mends

Third, a blade always sits on the drug's right side

The short one sings of sleep and tall forever shuts the eye

Fourth, and final, answer me this:

If time's shape is fleeting, which box would you miss?

What the fuck.

Allayria presses her index fingers to her temples and shuts her eyes, willing herself to find some kind of mental strength.

One at a time.

She rereads the first two stanzas. If she's interpreting it correctly—a big if—it sounds like there are two blades, two books of some sort, two drugs... and the last—'a face to tell time'—sounds like a clock.

She writes it all down, and then continues on. She completely skips the next stanza, because what in the blasted skies does that mean, and goes onward to the four clues.

'Singing of sleep,' 'forever shutting the eye'—a sleeping draught and a poison, she decides. Useless unless the competition is about to get deadly or soporific.

She goes back and rereads that third stanza, guessing—with some grumpiness—that this is supposed to be the clue for the next room. Even though it's a question.

'Perception or a language never said?' Allayria presses her head against the cool surface of the table. Is he trying to make this impossible?

'Language never said'—she has to be able to work that one out. A language that can't be spoken. Runes? Hieroglyphics? Codes?

She lifts her head up, scanning down the four clues.

'The left book talks of riddles'—that would point to some kind of secret language or code too.

So there's a code book. Allayria jots this down with unwarranted force, circling her revelation several times for good measure. A code book sounds useful on a day of mind games and puzzles.

The next is 'perception'—she has no idea what this means, but blades won't give her perception, so they're out. Sleeping draughts and poison certainly won't either. If 'Language never said' refers to the code book, "Perception" has to either refer to the other book—the one that 'mends'—or the clock.

The book could give information—or insight into a situation, but the clock gives you a numerical perception of time, Allayria thinks, feeling her forehead slide down the palm of her hand as she hunches over the paper. And didn't he call it... yes, 'a face to tell time.' If perceiving is seeing, and a face sees...

Allayria's face thwacks against the table and she lets it sit there for a minute.

My head hurts.

At least thirty minutes have passed so she quickly pivots. She returns to the clues, working out that the outer four must hold one of the blades, the sleeping drug, or the poison. She jots this down and sits back a minute, feeling mildly accomplished.

The inner three are the only ones left. Allayria rereads the final clue once more: 'If time's shape is fleeting, which box would you miss?'

Ok. So the clock box is fleeting, or easily missed. Allayria looks up, her eyes landing on the tiny fifth box.

I could miss that.

She certainly wouldn't overlook 4, with its irregular shape, and 3 is one of the biggest boxes. By her estimation, she should pick either box 3 or box 5—the code book or the watch. Someone shifts in a seat near her and Allayria glances up for a moment, looking around the room. She catches Ruben's eye and his eyebrow twitches up at her, that smile still stuck in place.

The obvious choice is the code book, Allayria thinks, but since when has Ruben ever been obvious?

She scrawls a "5" on her parchment, signs it, and folds it up before she can rethink it. It's not as if it really matters of she gets a dud... her fingers tap on the table and Kali throws her a dirty look.

Ruben collects the papers, placing each slip in front of the box chosen.

Box 2 is the first box with names in front of it. Durai and one of Beinsho's soldiers, a girl named Ila, step forward and are presented with two small knives. Durai grabs his with a blotchy, slightly frantic expression but Ila takes the blow more stoically, flipping the blade around her fingers in a vain attempt to appear intentional, before making a hasty retreat to her seat.

Almost half of the recruits get up for box 3—Lei, Hiran, Kali, Tara, Rahul, Caj, and Fae are among them. Each is presented with a book and Allayria cranes her neck over so she can read the front of the one in Lei's hands. Yes, it is a code book. A small smile stretches on her face.

After that, three people, including the other Solveig girl and Bora, one of Beinsho's Nature-callers, stand for box 4. They too are presented with a book and Allayria catches a glimpse of plants and vials on the cover. A book of healing.

Box 5 is called and Allayria stands—and so does Peter and Finn. She and Peter exchange glances as they approach the table, and each of them is awarded a small pocket watch, silver and cold against their palms. Allayria closes her hand around hers, holding it tight in her fist, and she catches a smug look on Rahul's face as they take their seats.

There's only one name left for box 6, and that friend of Fae's—Yasu?—stands, looking bewildered as Ruben hands her a small, clear vial, a skull and crossbones etched in its side. Rahul sets a hand on her shoulder as she sits down, wide-eyed and pale-faced, and Allayria hears him whisper to her: "It's not that bad, Yas. Who knows, it might come in handy later."

"Now for the final task today," Ruben calls. "Please bring your items and enter the hallway. You will find nineteen doors to your left. Choose a door and stand in front of it."

Perhaps slightly paranoid after the day's events, there is a rush to go outside, people employing elbows and knees to squeeze out into the corridor and get a look at the doorways. No one says it out loud, but there's a widespread certainty that there must be something special about some of the doors, that choosing a particular one will give a contestant an unseen advantage. However, the doors are all plain brown and, as far as anyone can see, identical.

"Line up!" Ruben shouts, far too cheerful for the atmosphere of unspoken anxiety. "Hurry up, I want to get to dinner on time!"

Tara, who's standing to Allayria's right, shoots a dark look at the Skill master. Curious, Allayria glances to her left to find Durai, a vaguely lost expression still hanging on his face.

When they've all gotten in line Ruben raises a hand and the doors open. Everyone steps through; it's a little dark, and Allayria is just beginning to make out three walls, tight around her, when the door slams shut.

A/N: Soooo, to my fellow crazy person who stops and works out logic puzzles: let me know if that made sense. I love logic puzzles, but that was only tested by the person who already knew the answer.

Me, it was just me.

Bonus visual aid in the banner: a small "sketch" of the seven boxes and their numbers.

Also: how is it keeping the contestants straight? I know its a lot of people, so I want to check in and make sure that at least some of them are somewhat memorable by this point/you can keep who's-who straight. In the chapter after next  I'm going to have a roster posted in the notes section, but I'm holding off until a certain point (it'll make sense why when you read the chapter).

The italicized dialogue was spoken by my dear sass queen child, Keno, in the "Girl on Fire" chapter of Paragon. He's still sulking around Solveigard City, stealing fine porters.