“There’s something I don’t understand,” I began carefully. “Why can’t a small force position itself behind the enemy beforethey array their flanking positions?”

“Because, murk, they are allowed to establish their position before we can begin our attack!” Two Charaban threw an exasperated look to his superior.

“They can dig in, Ten,” Drabar explained, “and then we have from dusk to dusk of the following day to dislodge their position . . .”

“. . . and take their place!” Charaban punctuated.

“Why are we dancing around, One?” his second wanted to know. “You invited the murk for a reason, and it wasn’t to ask stupid questions.” They all looked at me: Two Charaban with an impatient sneer, Drabar like I was another graphic on the monitor, and One with a questioning smile that wondered if I knew that this was the right moment to grab my opportunity. The image of Palandine stroking her ridges appeared.

“I’m here because I know how to get past their flanks and behind the rock formation,” I said with a confidence that was part bravado.

“Really? Well, mates, I’m glad to have been present for the second coming of Gul Minok,” the fat Charaban bellowed with utter contempt. Gul Minok was a legendary hero of the early Union. I bit down and held my ground.

“Do we know the status of the moons that night?” I asked.

“What do you think, Ten?” Charaban returned the question, not unkindly.

“If it was their choice of time as well as place, all three will be at full strength,” I answered. He nodded in agreement. I was now on surer footing.

“But it’s not that important,” Drabar interjected. “In a Competition all the night probes are coming from one source–the defended area–and they’re trained on the expected direction of the attack. Night is not the advantage one would expect.”

“But still enough of an advantage for the major part of an attack to take place,” Two stated.

“And the advantage grows proportionally to the skill level of the flanking force in operating with stealth,” Charaban added, looking at me.

I knew what he wanted. It didn’t take genius for someone to figure out that my success in the Wilderness depended on my ability to diminish my presence. But to give him what he wanted meant that I would have to teach others the skill. What would I be left with? Would I not surrender the source of my power? And what would I receive in return? The image of Palandine helped me to remember what I had learned that night: that I was being offered the opportunity of a greater power. Charaban watched me. I was at the edge of my experience, and the only way I was going to expand the frontier was to act.

“The difficulty is finding students who can execute the necessary maneuver,” I said, answering Charaban’s look.

“What?” This was too much of a leap in logic for fat Charaban. “What maneuver?” Drabar didn’t understand either, but that only increased his attention.

“Stealth,Two Charaban. Did you leave the room or is it getting too late for you?” Charaban was sharp with his second. He turned back to me. “It’s even more difficult than that. Whoever you use can only come from your group. And as you decide how many you will need, remember that once inside the rock formation you will have to throw up an effective resistance to create the diversion we need.” Charaban was pushing me now.

“With phasers we should be . . .”

“No phasers inside the rocks,” Charaban interrupted. “Only outside. Once you get in it’s hand‑to‑hand combat.” Charaban pushed me even harder. “What’s your plan, Ten?”

“Six men. Two groups of three.” I was sweating with the effort to visualize the operation as I studied the diagram.

“Yes?” Charaban urged.

“I lead one group along the southern flank, which is the more difficult one. One Lubak will lead the . . .”

“No,” corrected Charaban. “You can’t use One.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because he will resent your leadership. He already regards you as a threat. One must never know what you’re doing.”

“That means I can’t use any of his allies.” I was worried as to how I was going to assemble a team with what was left of the group.

“Unless they find greater opportunity with you.” Two Charaban’s tone was almost civil.

Opportunity. Of course. Ambition. The power is with the leader others are willing to follow because he promises them an advantage they lack. I began to see what the exchange was.

“Who leads the other team?” Charaban wasn’t finished.

“Eight.” Logically the best choice, once I got beyond my obligation to One Lubak.

“And if he’s the Pit warrior you claim he is then he should work with the others.” Charaban remembered my assessment and challenged its truth.

“It’s crucial that the members of your group perform well in the combat phase,” added Drabar.

Besides Eight and myself there was Five . . . and Three. I detested Three. Plus he was an ally of One. But his massive strength was matched by his ferocity. Charaban knew that I was struggling with choice.

“Whoever they are, Ten, just make sure that Ramaklan hasn’t already recruited them. Our task is difficult enough; betrayal would make it nearly impossible,” he warned.

“And betrayal means that the leader has failed to earn the trust of his men,” fat Charaban added to the warning.

When I had finished cleaning the last room and replaced the implements, the first colors of dawn were stretching across the desert and lighting my way back to the First Level compound. I was exhausted from the long night’s test. I had made my first alliance, and was now part of a cohort looking to seize political power by an act of force. I felt stripped and exposed. The boy who had played among the stately monuments in the Tarlak Sector and pretended to heroism and great deeds had been left behind. Now that I was faced with the hard work of actual leadership, the fear of failure–the very thing Charaban told me there was no room for–had assumed new dimensions. Find your allies, I heard Calyx say, and work from there.

That morning Eight and I were assigned to a construction unit repairing an old barrier on the western perimeter. I told him I needed to talk without other ears, and we managed to work ourselves away from the rest of the team. He knew about the Competition, and he knew that the Ramaklan and the Charaban were recruiting. It happened that he had an appointment to meet with a Ramaklan recruiter that evening.

“But I knew I’d be contacted by you,” he said as a simple matter of fact.

“How?” I asked.

“Charaban warned me.” Eight studied my confused reaction. “He didn’t tell you we spoke?”

“No.” Anger replaced confusion, but we had to continue our work of identifying weak sections of wall and marking them for repair. And I had to continue assembling my team. “What did he say?”

“He asked me to be involved. When he told me you were committed I agreed.” Again, simply stated. We scraped the wall to cover our conversation.

“Thank you,” I said with relief. Eight was the difference between success and the abyss; especially with the others. Eight was respected by everyone, even Three. One despised him, but he harmed Eight at the expense of his own leadership stature.

“He said you were leading our team, and that you would make the assignments. That’s quite an honor.” In his quiet way Eight was impressed.

I described our mission and what I wanted from him. He would take Five and Three to penetrate the northern flank while I led Two and Four on the southern. I explained my choices, based on the restrictions Charaban had given me.

“Don’t take Two,” Eight said.

“Why?” I asked.

“He can’t be trusted–especially if One is not involved. They’re family.” How did everybody except me have this personal information? “If Two agrees, chances are he’s a Ramaklan spy.”

“Who’s left?” I was certain there was no one.