Angus’s hand was quickly repaired, and the three friends headed to the Arena for choreography lessons.
"That was incredible how they used a piccolo to pull the stick out of your hand and then an oboe to heal the hole." said Veronica, "You could see all the tendons and bones."
"I thought it was gross," Trevor wrinkled his nose.
"I'm just glad there's no permanent damage," said Angus. "Saved the piece of wood as a souvenir, though." He pulled it from his pocket, waved it around, and pretended to jab Veronica. She fell and flailed about, performing a theatrical death act.
"When you've finished dying," said Trevor, "I think we need to get a move on; we’re gonna be late."
"This is going to be boring," Angus moaned, "I’m pretty sure choreography just means dancing. According to my Uncle Benjamin, it almost amounts to torture."
"Agreed," Veronica got up, "Dancing is a pretty pointless skill. It's not like you can use it in real life for anything practical."
Angus abruptly changed the subject. “Hey, do you guys know Clavis’s real name?”
“No, what is it?” Trevor inquired.
Angus tried to say ‘Clarence Specklebottom,’ but all that came out was, “Blargen, Bargle Buggle.” He knew exactly what he wanted to say but uttered gibberish instead. It felt a little like when he’d attempted to sing.
“Pretty sure that’s not his name,” smirked Veronica.
“He told me in confidence as my mentor,” Angus explained. “I’m supposed to try to tell someone. Apparently, the mentor confidentiality thing works.”
“It better work!” said Trevor, “I told Resha some pretty personal stuff.”
“Like what,” Veronica jibed, “did you bond over the challenge of buying oversized earmuffs?”
“I wear a toque. That’s what us Canadians call beanies.” he retorted, referring to Angus and himself.
“Toque,” said Veronica, “what a silly-sounding word.” She skipped alongside the boys, chanting “Toque, toque, toque” with every step.
“And she calls you weird,” Trevor whispered to Angus, shaking his head.
“I’m a Canadian, eh,” Veronica chanted in an exaggerated Canadian accent. “And I wear a Toque, toque, toque, toque…”
Signs and arrows led them to a broad, grassy field enclosed by Roman bleachers. The three friends recognized another group of newcomers and moved to join them.
Hundreds of participants filled the field, some groups executing martial arts moves, others belly dancing or performing magnificent feats of gymnastics, all in perfect synchronization. Horace, a powerfully athletic man, led movements from a raised stage. On the sidelines, drummers played energetic, primal beats, driving the mass of coordinated dancers. It looked like part dance and part combat, and it was beautiful.
The drumming ended, and the athletes relaxed, smiling at the procession of nervous first-timers.
"Hello, newbies!" Horace waved. "Welcome to the Arena. Come to the front so you can see better."
"OK, now this is way cooler than I thought. It looks more like combat training," said Angus as they approached the stage.
"I agree," Veronica smiled. "This is much more practical than I expected."
Horace addressed the newcomers. "Hello, folks. The Arena is where you will learn about timing. Timing is fundamental in music, dance, combat, comedy, and even love." He winked.
"Once you have mastered your footwork on land," said Horace, "it will be time to take to the skies!"
A warning klaxon sounded as the drummers resumed their driving beat. Behind the mass of attendees, an enormous, complex climbing apparatus rose from the Arena floor.
In tight synchronization with the drumbeat, moving platforms swayed through the air, thick ropes swung in tick-tock precision, sturdy poles rotated on axles, and racks of blunted practice weapons clattered into place. Horace leaped to the ground with gymnastic precision and sprinted to the equipment. With the strength and agility of an expert traceur, he nimbly propelled himself to the structure’s summit, finally bowing with a flourish.
The crowd clapped briefly, then dispersed to pursue individual activities. At the same time, the newcomers gathered close around Horace, who had immediately returned to the ground.
“Apologies, my precious neophytes, but the major apparatus must wait. No fear, contests aplenty await you still!”
"This is totally like a video game!" said Angus. "I've been training for this my whole life."
"You are correct. It is like a video game," replied Horace. "By now, you should have your watch. When you complete a drill or obstacle course, it will display an accuracy score. You can also tap on the watch to see a breakdown of areas for improvement."
"I'm going to whoop your butt," Veronica chortled to Angus.
"Sounds like a challenge," Angus grinned.
Horace started them with exercises on low beams and platforms. Angus took a liking to the drills immediately, righting himself after a fall and persisting until he succeeded. Veronica learned quickly, and her coordination was impeccable. Trevor struggled.
"Balance was never my thing," lamented Trevor. "I’m simply the worst at any kind of sports."
Everyone made sympathetic or encouraging noises, feeling sorry for him as he tripped and stumbled.
"And now," proclaimed Horace. "It’s time for the Cavern drill."
Another structure emerged from an empty area of the field. The drills had been on relatively flat surfaces with plenty of traction until this point. Not so with the new exercise. Every surface sloped at an angle and bore a slippery coating.
"I think I'm going to nope out of this one," muttered Trevor, attempting to fade into invisibility.
"The Cavern drill," Horace went on, "is inspired by our network of caves beneath the city. The intrepid spelunker must traverse steep rock faces and jagged coral, all blanketed in slick, wet algae. To become a Cavern explorer, you must master this drill and more. Do I have a volunteer?"
All eyes looked elsewhere.
"Angus," called Horace. "How about you give your feet a try on this one?"
Angus shrugged his shoulders and joined Horace at the start of the obstacle.
"The key," said Horace, "is to predict the slide and keep moving. It's like riding a bike. If you stop, you’ll tip over but easily keep your balance while pedaling."
Horace lept from rock to rock, sliding occasionally but never out of control.
"Now you try," said Horace.
Angus calmed his breathing and approached. His head cleared, and he quickly picked up the timing. Step, step, slide, leap, land, slide, step, jump, land, slide…
"MOP HEAD!" someone heckled from the bleachers.
Angus stumbled gracelessly with only a couple of jumps to go.
"Bravo!" said Horace. "You did very well on your first try! Distractions are a part of life, and you must learn to ignore what is irrelevant to your goals. Focus on Thrum, and it will guide you."
Angus got up and straightened his clothing, frustrated.
"I want to try that again," said Angus, climbing back up the obstacle.
This time he fell on the second jump. There wasn't even a shout from the crowd to distract him.
Angus scowled and kicked the ground.
"You are now getting in your own way," said Horace, "I think you need to sit down and sort yourself out."
Grumbling, Angus sat with his peers.
“You did great,” whispered Trevor.
“I could have done better,” hmphed Angus, “stupid Zach is always hassling me.”
"Okay, how about you?" Horace pointed at Trevor.
Trevor paled, "I'd rather sit this one out."
"Nonsense," said Horace, "fear is your ally, just something to overcome. Please come up here, young man."
Trevor obediently dragged his feet to the starting platform, hardly registering his friends’ encouraging words.
"Now," said Horace. "Take a deep breath. Keep the momentum going and consider where you will take your next step."
Trevor gulped air and tentatively stepped; step, slide, leap, land, slip, fall, bash, smack, "Owwww!" screamed Trevor as he tumbled from the obstacle, slamming down hard on his bottom.
"Medic!" hollered Horace. A trainer sprinted over, produced an oboe, and played a gentle, penetrating melody. In a moment, Trevor’s pained expression relaxed as he realized he was no longer uncomfortable. He stood and raised his arms triumphantly.
"See," said Horace, "good as new. Our medics are the best, so don't worry too much about injuries in the Arena. While we can't raise the dead or regrow a severed limb, your friendly medic, Janice, has healed some horrific injuries. Mind you, it’ll still hurt."
"Don't get too confident elsewhere," warned Horace. "Once you leave the Arena, she might not be around to fix your missteps."
Other novices attempted the obstacle, but none made it as far as Angus. He felt a little better.
"Alright, everybody," said Horace. "That's enough for today. It's time to get cleaned up and ready for dinner. You did extremely well, and I hope to see you back here soon."
At dinner in the Grand Dome, the trio compared agility scores from their watches. Angus came out ahead, but Veronica was close behind. Despite numerous wipeouts, Trevor was pleased to announce that he had made progress. Again, they shared a table with Hamish and Adora.
"Do you guys want to see something cool?" asked Hamish.
"Always," said Angus.
"I was fiddling with my spoons, Click & Clack, and this happened."
Hamish struck his spoons on his thigh three times, and a cloud of glimmering particles swarmed around him. They resembled fireflies made of pure light.
"You made glow bugs," said Trevor. "How adorable!"
"Not particularly practical," huffed Veronica with an eye roll.
"Well, actually, I can control them; they respond to my voice."
Hamish opened his mouth but produced no audible sound. Trevor clapped his hands over his ears while the light particles organized into a hovering grid pattern.
"That was wicked loud but totally cool, Hamish," Trevor sighed. "Honestly, I'm jealous that your Instrument found you."
"Don't worry," said Hamish. "One will find you soon. I’m sure of it."
Hamish sang a note, and the light particles returned to his spoons.
Rather than choosing from a buffet, diners received a plate of eel, quail, and some orange, leafy vegetables. It looked delicious.
Angus slid his square of tin foil under the plate. He avoided the orange leaves; they looked uncomfortably like carrots in color.
Veronica asked Angus directly, "Why on earth do you put tin foil under your plate? It’s setting my weird meter off big time."
"Quite simple," replied Angus, "it reflects stray neutrinos from the earth's core. You don't want to eat those; they mess with your gut bacteria and give you gas."
"Super weird, dude," said Veronica.
"Would you like a sheet?" offered Angus.
"Um… no thanks," said Veronica, "I'm okay with a little gas." She produced a few flatulent noises with her mouth.
"Hey," Veronica perked up. "What about those Caverns? Remember how I said we could look for crystals? Maybe we'll get our Instruments faster that way."
"I’m game," said Angus, "Sounds like an adventure, and I definitely want an Instrument to find me."
"I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea," said Trevor, "you noticed my tailbone got busted in the Arena, didn’t you?"
"First time I’ve seen a chicken with ears," Veronica teased. "Come on, scaredy pants. I’ll carry you out if you hurt yourself."
Trevor gave Angus a dubious look as Veronica made clucking noises and flapped her arms.
"Alright, I guess," said Trevor. "But if I hurt myself, I’m blaming you."
“We’ll take it slow,” reassured Angus. “Hamish, Adora, are you in?”
Hamish and Adora looked at each other and then shook their heads.
“It's supposed to be very dangerous down there,” said Adora, “I think I’d rather explore the market than the caves.” Hamish nodded in agreement.
“Alright, just the three of us then!" said Veronica, “We’ll meet up here tomorrow morning!"
"I'll have my dancing shoes on," replied Angus, and they went their separate ways.