Page 74 of Fading Sun

It was so loud that I wouldn’t be surprised.

“Who’s next?” the Buddha asks, the unnatural light fading from his eyes.

“I’ll go,” Damien volunteers.

The ear-splitting gong sounds again.

“He can’t have gotten the answer wrong,” I say to the Buddha. “You haven’t even asked it yet.”

“The gong isn’t only going to be struck after wrong answers,” the Buddha says. “It’s the consequence for your incorrect response, and it will sound sporadically throughout the rest of the test.”

“Oh,” I say, and the gong is hit again.

Morgan flinches, although she quickly gets ahold of herself.

Damien remains focused on the Buddha. “I’m ready for my question,” he says, his eyes unwavering as he stares the statue down.

“How many horses draw the Hindu goddess Surya’s chariot?” the Buddha asks.

Another loud, reverberating gong nearly gives me a heart attack, and I put my hands over my ears to protect them from the sound.

This is going to get real old, real fast.

“Seven,” Damien answers after the gong silences.

That’s when I realize—not only is the gong distracting, but it’s going to slow down how quickly we can get through the test, since we’ll have to wait until after each strike quiets to say our answers.

Assuming we’ll be able to hear at all by the end of this, given how much my ears are already ringing.

“Correct,” the Buddha says. “Second question: Name two of Surya’s sons.”

“Manu and Yama,” Damien rattles off without a second’s thought.

I don’t have to brace myself for another punishment, because Damien’s confidence makes it clear he got it right. He probably studied Hinduism in his spare time in the 1800s or something.

“Correct again,” the Buddha says, followed by another clang of the gong. It quiets down, and he looks to Blaze. “You next.”

I frown, since the Buddha let Damien and I pick our order, but I don’t say anything. We’re all going the same number of times. The order doesn’t matter.

“How many punishments until we fail?” I ask before the Buddha can ask Blaze his question.

“As many as you can withstand.” He smiles menacingly, and his eyes travel to Blaze, his head not moving. “Now, Blaze. In which ancient text are Sunna’s stories primarily found?”

Blaze’s brow furrows, clearly straining to think about the answer.

Another gong hit crashes through the chamber, louder this time, the echo so intense that I have to brace myself from being physically pushed back from the vibration.

Blaze holds his hands to his ears, closing his eyes as he thinks through the aftereffects of the gong.

Finally, he pulls his hands away and drops his arms down to his sides, fire crackling around him as he stares up at the Buddha in determination.

“The Poetic Eddica,” he answers.

“Wrong,” the Buddha says, and Blaze blinks, as if he isn’t sure he heard right. “The answer is the Poetic Edda. Close, but incorrect.”

Blaze glares at the Buddha and makes a fist, as if he’s contemplating launching himself at the statue and punching it.

“Since you were close, I’ll go easier with my penalty,” the Buddha decides. “A time penalty. One minute will be removed from your countdown. Which means you have ten minutes to go.”

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