"It's beautiful isn't it?"
Stuvek jumps as I join him by the railing, then smiles sheepishly as he returns his gaze to the sprawling Capitol. His eyes are red-rimmed and his face is more ashen than before.
"Yeah, I guess. I'm not as keen on architecture as you are. And I can't really see the beauty in a city full of people who would celebrate while we fight to the death."
"Beautiful city, not so beautiful people," I suggest.
"Something like that. Dido seems alright though. You're lucky you got her and not Lucia."
Very lucky from what I have seen.
"Yeah, she seems a bit…"
"Horrible? Though I guess it's better that you get the good stylist since you might have a chance."
I can't think of anything to say to this. Some people would disagree, but we're both smart enough to know it's the truth.
"So how did you go?" he asks after a minute of silence.
"Not as good as I hoped. But hopefully good enough."
He laughs at this and says, "I'm guessing your show involved a significantly improved rope trap to the other day?"
"Possibly," I reply. As much as he seems a good kid, I can't afford to say too much. After all if I could hear Francis and her mentor talking before, then others might be listening to us now. And we are situated between two Career groups, who I definitely don't want knowing about my plans.
"How about you?" I ask, and immediately regret it. If he was out here crying immediately following his session then it probably didn't go too well.
"Oh…you know. I mean I don't really have any special skills to show. I climbed a bit and tried some sword moves. I don't think it will really matter."
It probably won't, but I don't say so. He has it bad enough from his stylist, mentor and Carmenius without me reminding him of his imminent death.
We just stay there in silence, enjoying the view of the sprawling city beyond the Training Centre. Despite Stuvek's words, I can't help but see the beauty of the Capitol. Every curve and arch, every mosaic stone pattern laid into the sidewalks. The great carved fountain down the path to the left, the abstract glass sculptures on the corner on the right. The afternoon sun glinting off this window and that gold panelling, through the prismatic glass to produce a rainbow of colours that children are dancing in on the path.
"Wiress. Wiress!"
"Huh?"
"Come on, dinner." Stuvek is peering around the glass door, waving me inside. When I look back at the city I realise the light has changed to the weak orange of sunset.
"Oh, I guess I lost track of time," I say as I follow him in.
"Yeah, you were staring out there for hours."
Well, it's not the first time I've been distracted by something and lost track of the minutes passing.
Our stylists have again joined us for dinner, as well as Carmenius and Cupros. A full house for once, in preparation for our training scores. Carmenius seems to be keeping his promise to Dido, not once criticising either of us beyond a single comment to Lucia about a lack of sponsorship support for one of his charges. Even Cupros is fairly cheerful by his standards, telling the story of a Capitol banquet that turned into a food-fight when pressed by Lucia, who was also present.
It's not long before the dessert is being cleared and we are ushered into the lounge to watch the training scores. The show starts with Caesar Flickerman giving us a reminder of how the scores work before launching straight into District One.
Pretty-boy is first, his arrogant smirk justified when the 10 flashes up underneath the name, Jasper Noble. His curvy district partner Daniellis is next with a score of 8. On the lower end for a Career tribute. Two is next, the brutish Halifax and the sour Lucinda with scores of 9 and 8 respectively. The Careers really aren't doing as well as expected, which gives me a slight flicker of hope.
We're next, and Stuvek tries not to look too disappointed when the number 4 flashes under his picture.
"Better than last year's boy," Cupros grunts and Stuvek gives him a weak smile. I've seen people win with scores as low as four before, though it was because they were hiding some secret skill or got incredibly lucky.
My picture replaces his and I realise I am actually trembling. I was fairly confident that I would manage a decent score before I went in, but who knows how much my failure with the knife cost me. The number 6 flashes up and we all breathe a sigh of relief.
"Excellent," Carmenius says in that falsely cheerful tone. "We should be hearing from Mister Garfunkel shortly."
I'll believe it when I see it. For now I refocus on the screen to see what my competition is like. Damian from Four pulls another surprisingly low 8, while Francis scores an equal-high 10. I figured her for the most dangerous of the group, but she must have shown something more than the sparring she openly displayed during the training sessions.
Five scores expectedly low 3s, as does starveling Wenda from Six. Her counterpart Aleksander equals my score of 6, which suddenly doesn't look so bad, only two points off half the Career pack. Shovan Birch from Seven manages a score of 8, though the thirteen-year-old Emilia and Stuvek's friend Felton from Eight only match Stuvek's 4.
The girl that Stuvek informed us was a crybaby makes us all look good with the appallingly low score of 2. I wonder if she actually did anything at all during her session.
Stuvek's other ally Morris Tarly surprises us all with a score of 7, his natural sword-fighting ability apparently counting for more than my traps. Then again he might have been hiding something special too. His female counterpart Tarragon scores a lowly 3 for all she looks competent, as does Anton Wincaster from Ten.
Pretty Starria Race manages a 5, though her looks will still gain her some sponsors regardless of training score, and I sit forward expectantly as the tributes from district Eleven are shown. Junis looks stubbornly tough even in her photo, and manages a respectable score of 7. One higher than me, though I didn't really see her practicing any fighting techniques during the two and a half days in the gymnasium. Which means none of us have any idea of her preferred weapon, a very clever play on her part. Sparrow Harper also pulls a 7, though at least I know about his skills with ranged weapons. He must be very good indeed for them to rate him so highly despite his diminutive size.
Finally the pair from Twelve, the boy scoring a respectable 5, the girl the expectedly low 3. That leaves me less highly rated than ten of the twenty-four tributes, and on par with one. Right in the middle of the pack, much better than I had dared to hope for. I wonder what my family thought when they saw this back home. No doubt they will have guessed the sort of things I would have done, and I just hope I'm not giving them false hope about seeing me survive.
"Great work, both of you," says Beetee firmly, daring any of the others to contradict him. "Why don't you head for bed. Get a good night's sleep before tomorrow. We'll be preparing you for the interviews and we all need some time to talk with the stylists about your presentation."
"Don't we get a say?" asks Stuvek, and I find myself agreeing with him. After all, it's us that will be on stage presenting whatever persona will work best.
"I think we're pretty clear about what angle we are going for with both of you," grunts Cupros.
Beetee nods and adds, "Besides, if you really don't like something we can work through it tomorrow. Right now we just all need to get on the same line, and that will be easier with less people adding in their opinions. What time do you want to start tomorrow?"
The last is directed at Carmenius, who shrugs and says, "As early as possible if I am to successfully teach them how to present themselves properly to the audience. Ten? I'll start with Wiress first and we can swap after lunch."
Ten is hardly early by my standards, though I suppose if you stay out drinking until the morning hours it seems like a hard ask. I am willing to trust Beetee to aim Dido and Carmenius towards the intelligent persona I plan on presenting and swipe the toolkit from the sideboard on the way to my room.
-xXx-
"No, no, NO! Cross them at the ankles or don't cross them at all, but keep your knees together. How is that so hard to understand?"
I bite down on a retort and uncross my legs, arching my back to keep the upright posture Carmenius has insisted I maintain.
"Don't scowl," he snaps at my grimace as he slouches against the counter. Hypocrite.
"Now, we'll try a few simple questions and I want you to try answering them while smiling."
"But I thought-"
"Just do it."
Wishing for the hundredth time that Beetee wasn't busy entertaining a potential sponsor, I force a smile and say "Fine."
"No, it won't do. It needs to look real, like this."
I barely manage to not roll my eyes as he demonstrates his usual false manic grin. There is no way I am going to mangle my face like that on TV, and I suspect trying to appeal to the audience in this way will lose me sponsors.
"Didn't Beetee tell you we are aiming for quiet and intelligent?" I ask when he throws his arms up in disgust at my lack of cooperation.
"Well yes, but I know better what the audience wants to see and you can fix the specifics later."
"But there's no point making me look like….like…"
"Like a simpleton," Beetee finishes from the doorway and I heave a sigh of relief that he has finally made it.
"Good news," he says as he joins Carmenius by the counter. "Mr Garfunkel has confirmed his sponsorship. How are we going here?"
"We would be doing a whole lot better if she would do as she is told," Carmenius snaps and Beetee's eyebrows shoot up over his glasses frames in that now familiar expression of amused surprise.
"Oh? You are practicing the things we discussed last night, correct? Demure responses and collected poise?"
Despite the fact that Carmenius is some years older, he quails under the stern look.
"Well…I mean…look, just because you and Dido think it is the way we should do things doesn't mean that I…"
He tapers off into silence, shoulders hunched in defeat.
"Fine. We'll do it your way. Just don't blame me when the audience falls asleep from boredom."
"The audience doesn't want to see the same performance repeated year after year. And there is no point passing Wiress off as a sweet innocent girl overwhelmed by their generosity."
Beetee turns to me and nods encouragingly.
"I see you have covered the essential points of posture and, I assume, walking?"
My grimace at the half-hour I spent trying learning to balance in heels answers his question.
"Well, it's nearly lunchtime. Why don't we all take a break? And maybe this evening the three of us can go over the finished product."
The mention of food is enough to get our escort's agreement and I slump in the chair, finally able to relax my aching shoulders and back while two Avoxes start loading the table with another expansive spread.
Stuvek and Cupros join us shortly, neither looking particularly happy. I feel sorry for Stuvek, who will undoubtedly get the worst of Carmenius' temper this afternoon, especially on the tail of my session. Following lunch, Beetee and I remove ourselves to the living room to plan out how I will answer the questions Caesar will be posing me, now that I know how to sit properly.
"So, we're obviously going with intelligent," Beetee starts as we settle on the wide leather couches. "Dido and I agreed that quiet confidence is the better option. No need to paint a target on your back by acting superior."
"Definitely not," I agree. I can manage quiet, intelligent and demure, though confident might need some work.
"As you did with training, you will want to dance around the questions about your skills. Give some vague hints without saying anything specific. If Caesar gets too close to something you want to hide, or if you can't think of an answer just smile and shake your head. Let the audience draw their own conclusions."
"I think I can manage that," I say with as much confidence as I can muster. It almost sounds convincing even to me, and Beetee gives me a jerky nod of approval.
"Very well, let's try some practice questions. Imagine you are on stage answering."
"Does that mean I have to sit up straight?" I ask, half joking, and groan when Beetee says yes.
"Carmenius may be lacking in a lot of areas, but he is right about the basics of presentation. Now let's start with your plans for the arena."
The next hour is filled with various answers to the same few questions. How do I plan on surviving the initial fight? How do I rate my chances against the competition? What sort of skills did I show to impress the Gamemakers for my mid-range score? Do I plan to follow in my mentor's footsteps? What skills do I bring to the Games from my District?
I'm definitely repeating myself by the end, but since I'll probably get only one variation in the actual interview it helps to run through all the alternatives.
Next we cover questions about my family, which makes me tear up briefly. Beetee lets me get myself under control without saying a word, reminding me again how thankful I am to have him and not Cupros as mentor. Still it's better that I break down here where it doesn't matter than on stage in front of the entire nation.
Eventually I manage to give a moderately collected spiel about how much my family means to me and how I hope not to disappoint them. I doubt I'll manage to do as well tomorrow night, but at least I have some idea of the words to use when the question is posed.
"I think that's about all we need to cover with regards to the interview," Beetee tells me finally, and I take it as a sign to relax the constrained posture.
"We still have a little time before they finish up in there I expect. Shall we discuss your actual strategy in the arena while we have the chance?"
Since we've already been over the general plan, he must mean specifics that we haven't yet had a chance to talk about away from the others. I fill him in on what I have guessed about the arena based upon the plant and insect stations.
"Hmm. Don't be too fixed on the idea of a forest or a jungle," he says when I'm finished. "Oh, I agree it's the most likely arena based upon the evidence, which almost makes it less likely in this case. Remember what I said about Vellum's pledge to up the ante from last year."
"Well at least I know there will be trees of some sort, and creepers that will do for rope."
"Yes, and you can probably improvise all necessary components in that case. A rock will do well enough for sharpening branches. And of course you have some sponsorship, though I would advise not to rely on it too much."
"But you did say Mister Garfunkel had pledged…something."
"Yes. I did." Beetee takes off his glasses and polishes them nervously on his shirt, then takes a deep breath before continuing.
"The thing about sponsors is…well…a Victor is somewhat indebted to those who aided them. Major sponsors that is, the ones who contribute a significant sum to a particular object at a time of need. And it is not uncommon to have them call for the favour to be returned at a later date. Often with interest."
"What do you mean return the favour?" I ask cautiously, noticing the twitching of his mouth and the way he curled his fingers constantly about themselves.
"That depends on the nature of the sponsor…and of the Victor. I have heard…well…I doubt it will be an issue in this case."
He shakes his head sharply. "No. You may have noticed my…interactions with the Heavensbees?"
"You fixing things for them you mean?"
"Fixing, designing, reconfiguring. Yes. Whatever they need me to do, whenever they need me to do so."
I frown, thinking back to Beetee's Games, impressed that anyone would have backed the undersized thirteen-year-old, who found himself facing off single-handedly against the entire Career pack. I also don't remember him getting any gifts; surely if he had any sponsorship money Cupros would have used it to send him something he could have used as the lightning rod tip instead of his glasses.
"I don't remember-"
"Me getting anything? I didn't. No-one thought I had a chance until I caught….well."
He swallows and looks away. His eyes trace the lines of another sea-based painting for a few seconds, which seems to calm his fidgeting slightly.
"No, I received no gifts, but I have bartered for sponsorship since and those debts still stand regardless of the outcome of the tributes they went to. Nikarchus Heavensbee has always been most generous and a wise Victor always pays their debts."
"So you're saying if I get these gifts and go on to win then I will be expected to do a similar thing?"
I'm not sure I like the idea of having my brain on call indefinitely, but if it's what I need to do to survive I'll take it. At least I would potentially be involved in some interesting projects.
"I would expect so, yes." He smiles wryly and echoes my own thoughts. "There are worse fates."
Much worse. I could survive being the Heavensbees' engineer on call, but what will the musician expect from me in the future? What about other sponsors that may choose to back me if I survive the deadly initial phase of the Games? Beetee suggested other things that might be asked of an indebted Victor, and I'm not sure I want to survive only to spend my life doing only the bidding of others. Then again, is it worse than death?
"I will of course be carefully examining any other potential sponsors," Beetee adds softly.
"Reading my mind?"
He laughs and says, "Your body language speaks clearly, and I have sat where you are sitting. And before you ask, no I don't know whether Yellan Garfunkel foresees any particular form of…repayment for his support. He is somewhat….hmmm….unusual. He has requested that his donation remain anonymous for now, but who can know what the future holds. As for Clara Redfern…well…if we get desperate…"
"Clara Redfern?" I ask, then immediately realise the answer. "Oh, the girl from the platform?"
I pegged her age approximately the same as mine, but I guess with the miraculous surgery techniques available to the wealthy she could well be older and richer than I thought.
"Yes. Her mother is one of the President's most valued ministers and her father is a wealthy businessman. Clara is a very bright young lady and her parents spare nothing in her education. She has always expressed the opinion that intelligence deserves to win out and regularly supports our district over the others."
"Supports but doesn't sponsor?" I ask, confused, as she sounds like the ideal person to back any of our tributes.
"Oh yes, she willingly sponsors, or at least will convince her parents to do so. See, she's not quite sixteen yet so her parents still hold the majority of her money in trust. And unlike their daughter they see sponsorship very much as a give and take system, especially with her mother's position in the government. Let's just say I made that mistake once and I will not do so again, unless the price is worth it."
I'm not sure that I follow his entire argument as my brain is still trying to process the unexpected age difference between myself and the fiery-haired Clara.
"For what it's worth, I think you have a very good chance. To make it I mean. If you can make it clear of the Cornucopia you should be able to survive most common pitfalls of the Arena."
"Is it worth trying for something at the Cornucopia?"
He frowns and taps his fingers against the table. "I can't say no outright. If there is something you can see and think you can reach safely then I would suggest you go for it. If not, well, I can get you water. But why waste a gift if it is there for the taking. You will need to decide as soon as possible whether to go in or not. Even a few seconds of hesitation can be enough…"
Enough to mean the difference between life and death. Between escape with the items for my survival and struggling to make it on my own.
"Whatever happens Wiress, trust your intuition. From what I've seen it's good. Use it. It may just keep you alive."
I nod, and I settle back into the comfortable chair, watching the dripping clock as I think over my plans for survival. My intuitive guesses have helped me before whenever I was stuck on a project. Maybe they can help save my life now.