"The media's once-positive spin has become ambiguous. Intolerance is on the rise," she continued. "If we don't combat it now, if we don't choose strong leaders they can't criticize—leaders who can see what's coming and act to head it off, who are savvy enough to use the media, who can be positive role models and live up to the expectations of their positions—then this 'going public' nonsense will blow up in all of our faces."

Her vehemently whispered tirade had taken me aback, but I tried not to show it.

Holly abruptly got up and headed for the door, probably for the bathroom.

The entry door opened before she got to it, however, and she slipped around the group of women who strode in and searched for their places. They completed the ranks of contestants. This much interest in the position, with women willing to relocate to a new city, was encouraging. After they'd found their cots the whispering slowly resumed. I glanced over the group. They were a restless, nervous bunch. It seemed I was the only one unmoving; fatigue was creeping over me.

Hunter was motionless as well. She watched me steadily, seeming to take my calm for confidence. She gave me an up-nod, like men do to acknowledge each other without nodding their heads in what might be taken as a submissive gesture. I offered her one back.

When Holly returned, Hunter stood. "Ladies." With that one word, she charmed the group into silence. "There are twenty-one of us here to compete for one position. One." She strode to the end of her cot and made eye contact with each of us in turn. "We are sisters in a common goal and one among us will be victorious. I'm sure you all want it as badly as I do, that you've all tried to prepare as hard as I have. Maybe harder! May the Goddess be at our sides, may we all reach our highest potential as we compete and, when it is done, may we all be friends." She reached to her left, then her right, and took the hands of the women nearest her. "What say you?"

A circle formed then, as each turned to take the hands of those around them. I stood and moved forward to take my part in it.

Hunter faced me. "What say you?" she repeated.

I knew a challenge when I heard one, even disguised as a call for friendship. She was very good, very smooth. Probably thinking she had this wrapped up, she wanted to win over the toughest critics first—those she competed against. Acting like she was the leader already, she put those words to me as if acknowledging I was the direct competition. So was she offering me a chance to put my foot in my mouth? A chance to show I could outshine the pizzazz she'd already shown? I didn't want to do either. My efforts here were meant to bring about the best outcome for the coven. I wanted nothing more than to knock her from the running and go home and sleep.

"May we all be friends," I repeated her words.

"May the Goddess be pleased," Maria in the broomstick skirt said, "and this community best served by what transpires here."

Hunter smiled convincingly at her, seeing her for the first time, but clearly realizing that here was another competent woman. She'd found the strength in the room.

Hoping I'd fallen off her radar at that point to be replaced by Maria, I watched the two of them measure each other up behind the polite expressions they wore.

More than money was on the line here. More than prestige and a respected office. This should be about someone attaining the position in order to pass on knowledge and instill ethical standards in those coming up.

But it wasn't. As Holly had pointed out, even if I naively didn't want to think so, power was on the line.

The door opened again. Lydia stood in the opening; her usual bun-bound hair lay loose and flowing over her white robes. She said, "It is time."

The Covenstead's giant domed interior was dark, save for a line of eight wrought-iron candelabra, each holding a trio of slender but tall white pillar candles. The iron stands flanked a rectangular dais where five thrones sat, each with a rustic broom resting to its right.

That same candlelight backlit a dragon statue placed at the eastern end of the dais. Like an ominous and fierce relic from an ancient time, the dragon seemed like a roughly chiseled block of stone. Tarnished iron and copper bands accented the base of each of two ivory horns, lending a draconic majesty. Obsidian eyes and ivory fangs and claws gleamed, making it seem almost alive. A large cast iron cauldron sat before the beast.

Lydia guided us contestants to form a line, steadfast and serious, running east to west like the dais. Then she took a position for herself at the west end of the dais. My eyes scrutinized the details of the elaborately carved, dark wood thrones. Two had the triple-crescent Moon Goddess symbol engraved on them; two had pentacles. All were padded with black leather and round silver studs fastened the dark skins to the wood. The centermost seat had a wider back, was significantly taller, and the Goddess-symbol of the full moon with the waxing and waning crescents on either side crowned it. Studying the design, I realized that the triple moons were large pieces of moonstone, and the center full moon disc was engraved with a pentacle.

We waited silently in that regal ambience. I'm sure we were given this time to be in awe of the moment, to consider those seats and reflect on our purpose, our competition, and the weight of what we were about to engage in.

Lydia said, "Welcome witches, to the Venefica Covenstead Eximium." She spread her arms wide. "The women who will sit upon these thrones are your Elders. The one who will sit in the center will have the highest rank among them. She will demand the most respect as she carries the greatest power. While each Elder will be involved in selecting a test you will be given, the center-seated Elder, given the title Eldrenne, will choose the terms of the Eximium's final test."

She paused.

"Once the Elders enter the Covenstead, no contestant may leave until the Eximium is over. Neither may anyone enter, save for select guests who are arriving to aid or observe the tests." Fingers folding together in front of her, her saccharine-granny smile perfect, she continued, "I give you this one warning: these tests will reveal much, not only to the Elders, but to yourselves and to each other. If you are wary, if you doubt, speak now, for you will be bound and required to participate in every aspect of the tests, whatever they may be, until such time as you fail to advance to the next round. You must compete until you are bested; refusal to participate for any reason will bring severe consequences. You will be permanently disqualified from future Tournaments. You will be expelled from your current coven membership and henceforth denied membership in any formally recognized coven. Depending on the circumstances, you could be Bindspoken."

Lydia let that sink in. Nana's warning rushed back to me.

"Should you choose to compete and become disqualified or lose a round, you will remain in a separate area until the Eximium is completed." Again she paused, then made eye contact with each of us in turn. "Questions?"

No one moved or spoke.

"I will ask this only once, so if you harbor any sliver of doubt in your mind, if you fear you may not be willing to comply with these rules, then answer now. Is there any among you who wishes to withdraw from the test and leave these grounds?" She waited.

Silence.

"Very well." From within pockets in the folds of her gown, Lydia produced a small vial. "The details of how this Eximium functions and its tests are secret. No one may divulge these secrets after it is complete. You must each donate three drops of blood, to be added to the binding spell of silence." Assuming a position next to the dragon, Lydia nodded to the woman in the broomstick skirt. "Maria. Come forward."