As the Downtownians also exploded in cheers, hooting and hollering, grasping and shaking each other’s shoulders, Jeorr watched his ward follow through on the final touches of the challenge. Before she came back down, she levered free the wedges she had attached the totem with a knife she’d also borrowed from his workshop and cut the namestone free from all that rope wrapped around it. Lastly, with a few hard knocks, she made sure the namestone was properly aligned with the family totem. She was making certain that when she finally arrived back on the ground, there was nothing wrong, nothing he could say.

The townsfolk were still chanting her name when she landed back on Aerth. They clapped her back and ruffled her hair as she approached him. Her eyes were bright and shining.

Everyone fell silent, waiting for his response. Jeorr crossed his arms.

“You know, you’re not supposed to have help during the rite of passage.”

“You’re the one who always says there’s nothing wrong with a little help,” Carnelia replied easily.

“And my tools. You took them without asking.”

“Oh, you gutless—!“

Miss Eleina clapped a hand over Ms. Zenic mouth and hauled the drunk woman back. She waved for them to continue.

“I can put them back,” Carnelia replied, unphased and unblinking.

Jeorr’s frown deepened as the pressure from the watching crowd intensified. Then he let his true feelings show. The hurt he felt.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “If you knew how to get your namestone up there from the start, why spend a whole week going through this song and dance? To make me look like a fool? To give me false hope?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why? Tell me.”

Carnelia hesitated. She looked up at the totem of names, standing in its twilight shadow.

“I really did want to do it the right way, Gramps. Like Diamme and all the others. I wanted you to know I was ready. But…” Her gaze dropped. “…it was too hard.”

Jeorr followed her gaze and immediately felt more foolish than he already did. His ward’s hands were visibly raw and red, even through the chalk and tape that thoroughly covered them. Her legs were in no better state, covered in friction burns wherever there was no cloth protecting her skin. And though he couldn’t see it, Jeorr did not doubt that underneath her clothes, the rest of Carnelia’s body was purple and blue with bruises.

Of course, Carnelia had attempted the traditional climb with everything she had. Nothing less was in her nature. What’s worse, she would’ve endured ten times worse without a hint of resentment or blame. Lies? Deception? Her earnest effort made Jeorr feel like an ass, a true horse’s ass, for accusing her.

A tap on his shoulder brought him back into the moment.

“You promised,” Miss Eleina reminded him with a mixed smile.

Indeed, he had. He’d been the one to set out the rules, so he had to pay the price when she won. So with crossed arms, Jeorr considered Carnelia like he had Diamme, long ago. Fairly.

It was true, she hadn’t been strong enough to carry her namestone up the pillar the traditional way. It was true, she defied the vision of his challenge by using tools and leverage. It was true, she had bent the rules by recruiting Miss Eleina and Zenic to hold the rope at the end.

But so what?

Didn’t the help she received from people near her prove her ability to connect and galvanize those around her? Didn’t the way she used the pillar as a pulley prove her ingenuity in the face of a physical barriers? Didn’t her many failed attempts to do things the ‘right’ way prove her incredible resilience and determination?

Didn’t all those qualities matter more than whether she could carry a heavy rock?

He glanced around at the surrounding crowd, silently and expectantly awaiting his answer. Realizing that he’d already decided on what it was, he sighed.

“Fine… You can go.”

Exactly the words Carnelia wanted to hear.