Minutes slid by, and the silence held.
Every gaze fixed on Adyr as he moved across the bright, gold-sheened sand. He traced an unhurried circuit from barrel to barrel, palm brushing rims, eyes lingering on hoops and seams, noting the faint warps in the staves that hinted at pressure and swelling within.
Breath by breath, the onlookers tightened, waiting for the instant his hand would choose a lid and lift it.
"Brother, why don't you step down? It's too risky." Maruun's voice cracked the stillness. Watching Adyr like this, as if he were truly gambling, pulled his nerves taut until the warning burst out of him.
"No risk, no gain." Adyr's reply was quiet and flat, yet it carried to the far edges of the arena.
Trite or not, it was the truth. In the world of Practitioners, those without powerful backing or privileged bloodlines did not climb far by caution alone. If you wanted a higher ceiling, you paid for it with risk.
