Blue

The day’s shadows grew

As I walked upon the shore;

They framed the deepest blue

Ocean there before.

The blue sea’s waves

Were alight with orange fire

As my soul craves

You, my heart’s desire.

Here we were, so many years ago—

Our ship was sinking, sinking in the brine

Hurtling for the dark blue depths below,

Where little light can ever shine.

My crew had left me,

Finding my true name--

Women on the sea

Will make a ship go lame.

I had been their captain!

What comes of being female?

But they could not know then

How their hearts would fail.

You alone knew,

For you alone I trusted.

In your eyes of deepest blue

My doubts all went and rusted.

How could I not have told you?

You were my first mate—

And after all our talks, it’s true,

The revelation could not wait.

Those long speeches in my cabin

Were all that kept me going along.

Your blue eyes would always win

My heart into a better song.

When my crew was sleeping,

The orange sunset well behind

I saw you there, watch-keeping

The dangers for you to find.

But dangers do not always travel

From the sea we roam;

Into your blue eyes I fell

As driftwood in the briny foam.

Alone that night, it all came out—

The words unspoken for too long.

O, I always wished to shout

How you wrote my heart’s song!

Drowning in a strong embrace,

We did not see the crewman,

We did not see his face

His shock at mate and captain.

Loyalty is like the waves—

In and out, it ebbs and flows,

Filling and unfilling caves

Where the sea-anenome grows.

So went the loyalty of crew,

And so I was imprisoned.

So your blue eyes knew

The fate for which we were destined.

Hands clasped through bars of cell,

Hearts together, breathing as one

We prepared ourselves for the hell

That had only just begun.

Long they kept us there, interred,

As the crewmen argued fast—

Every single hateful word

Drew us closer to our last.

All their bickering did not see

The threat approaching on the water.

Without me, they could never be

Safe from being cannon fodder.

The pirates took them by surprise;

Sadly we watched them fade away.

It is a mighty ship that dies

When its crew is kept at bay.

Fast my crew surrendered to them,

Giving up the good life I’d given.

My heart sang a lonely anthem,

Seeing them so driven.

And what of captain and her mate,

Rotting in the stinking hold?

My crew just couldn’t wait

To sink it—they were bold.

So, the pirates got their lives,

But not my shining ship.

A captain always strives

To go down with the vessel.

So we sank, you and I,

Beneath the dark-blue waves.

Letting out a little sigh

That only water saves.

Some miracle had smashed

The ship upon a lonely rock

And so our bars were washed

Away with rusty lock.

Swimming, panting for dear air,

We made a break for shore.

The land was bleak and bare,

But we could not ask for more.

Exhausted, there we were,

On the barren land.

Death but delayed, that was sure—

For nothing but a strip of sand.

No trees, no plants, just you and I

Starving on the still, cool beach.

We both let out a tiny sigh

And stayed inside each others’ reach.

Dawn, dusk, and dawn again—

That I could but drown in your eyes!

Drowning’s so much better than

Thirst, starvation, and scorching skies.

Weaker, and weaker our bodies became

In the orange light of the sun;

Stronger and stronger, our love aflame

Burned ‘till our lives were done.

My crew is gone upon the sea;

The beach long covered by the waves.

Water is what will ever be

Over the body of the one my heart craves.

Never to be found,

Forever we stay

Forever bound

As we were that day.

As you sail the treacherous sea,

Think of captain’s mate below;

Then ever will his blue eyes be

Setting the sea’s waves aglow.

Sand Ch. 10: Teaching a Falcon to Fly

Alaviel’s advisors’ mouths hung open as she finished recounting the evening. By her command, they had been silent throughout the entire report, but now they were bursting with questions.
“You want us to associate with them?”
“All three of them know who you are?”
“She’s alive?”
All of their questions swirled around in the air, nearly unintelligible. She glanced over at Alfonso, who was oddly silent. The unspoken question was clear: What does this mean for us?
She held up her hand to silence them, but that did not stop the confusion she sensed from each one of them. “One question at a time,” she commanded. “Make them relevant, not just shocked responses to what I’ve said already.”
“Can they all be trusted with your identity?”
“Of course,” she replied. “Jada’s inner circle is made up of Sir Norbert, Lady Kessil, Lady Eirana, Sir Ziro, Stefus Astul Lethya, and Gawen Erif Drathil.” She counted them off on her fingers. “We know Sir Norbert is loyal to us. We are his only chance to regain Clevia. Lady Kessil has kept my magical ability a secret, and probably will do the same with my identity. Lady Eirana has kept quiet about Jada’s identity, so she should keep quiet with mine. Sir Ziro--”
“Sir Ziro? The fool who started all of this?”
She breathed in heavily, her words more sure than she felt. “He is loyal to Eirana, and will do what she says. As for Stefus Astul Lethya, his tribe has long been a close trading partner with Manicolus, and he would never do anything to disrupt that. Gawen Erif Drathil--”
“Erif Drathil?”
“Jada adopted him; that’s how all of this got started,” she snapped. “He does not use that name publicly, but if you search his person, you’ll find a Rashdan pendant around his neck. I have felt his pride in being adopted as a Rashdan; he feels strongly about it.” She saw understanding dawn on their faces. No one in the room would be wise to forget her talent in that area.
“Where did the pendant come from?” Sir Alfonso frowned. “Jada has not left Delixia since she first came six years ago.”
“Stefus,” Alaviel replied. “He and his mother communicate using messenger birds. It’s the Astul Lethya specialty. Jada must have contacted Stefus’s mother to have the pendant made.”
At that moment, she sensed something strong, a strange dichotomy of love and duty. Startled by this sudden outburst, her eyes turned purple as she focused into the source. Her advisors were silent out of respect for the royal magic she was using. It was Jada. Complicated emotions spewed forth--anger, frustration, love, then a resigned sort of sadness. What was that sadness? An obvious answer would be grief, but this didn’t feel like grief.
Then, as she listened more closely, still not hearing audible words but rather sensing the shades of the mind, she realized what it was. Jada was sad because she knew she was going to die. Why would she die? Alaviel considered, still listening. Duty.
Presently, Alaviel’s eyes snapped open and returned to their piercing blue.
“What did you see?”
Alaviel shook her head, eyes downcast. “There’s a plan. I don’t know what it is yet, but there’s a plan. Something big. Something like no one has ever seen. But it will cost Jada her life.” She looked up. “Not if I can help it,” she said with resolve.

Sir Norbert cheerfully put his room in order as the sunlight streamed through the windows. He didn’t even like Jada to do this, as he had quite an assortment of current experiments lying around, and his most recent one would be considered controversial at best. Although he would trust her with that secret, he still did not like the idea of how she might try to use it.
It worked! The labor of years of research had finally paid off. He had been so close for so long, but there was always a small percentage of his animal tests that did not work. Now, he had tried it on the closest thing to a human being he could allow, and it had worked!
Who should he tell? This was the discovery of the century. Suddenly, fear gripped him. If the High Court found out about this, there would be no saving him. Worse yet, they could use it for their own evil aims. . .
I must keep this to myself, he thought. The world is not ready for it.
He confidently strode down the stairs to the main pub. There were only a few customers in the dining room at this hour. Ah, there she was. She’d definitely have something to say about what they sensed last night.
“May we talk in a private parlor, please?” Alaviel smiled diplomatically.
Sir Norbert bowed ever so slightly. “I was about to suggest the same.” He led her to his largest private parlor. “In a little while, my entertainment staff will arrive for a meeting, as you know well. You may wish to stay so that they are not surprised when you know about their plan.”
“Of course.”
“Tea?”
“No, thank you. I am awake enough already.”
Sir Norbert poured himself some and asked, “So, what’s your take on it? Your senses are just a little more finely-tuned than mine.”
“You were closer, and not distracted by thousands of people in another country.”
“I was distracted as well. Surely you sensed my research?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Very interesting. I think we’ll need it sooner than you may think.”
Sir Norbert ran his fingers through his hair absentmindedly. “The human puppet is only a simulation. A very good one, no doubt, in terms of chemistry, but there are other factors.”
“How would you propose we test it?”
“We?” Sir Norbert frowned. “There is no ‘we’ in it. It is my research. I cannot in good conscience test it on a sentient human being just for the sake of testing, and I don’t think that the High Court would ever release a proper test subject.”
“You have a point there, and I can assure you: you won’t find one in Manicolus, except in the hands of the Riya Dru. However, Jada may become one if we’re not careful.”
“I know. In a way, I think they are wise, not to let each other know. Stefus might do something, ah, rash.”
“Let them enjoy it while they can. Perhaps we can find a solution to it all.”
“And in the meantime, my tests are our little secret.”
“Good morning, Jada,” Alaviel smiled at the newcomers, giving no hint whatsoever that they had been talking about her just moments before. “Good morning, Stefus.” She chuckled. “Good morning, Shalisda.”
Both of them dropped into brief bows before taking seats for themselves. Shalisda took off from Stefus’s shoulder and rested on the back of an empty chair. Jada triumphantly dropped a script in front of Sir Norbert. “This is the show I have in mind. I think it could take me much longer than the promised month to create.”
“Take your time,” Sir Norbert adjusted his glasses to better look at the script. “Politically controversial, by any coincidence?”
“Very.”
“Well, that’s very good for business,” Sir Norbert grinned.
Stefus frowned. “You’re not concerned that they’ll shut you down?”
“Let them try! I’ve had enough of them taking what is mine. This time, I will not just stand back and let them move me from place to place. After all, where will they send me? To Jegundo? I don’t think they want to risk having me around there.”
“I don’t know; Wylth tells me they force-feed mages alcohol until either their magic is gone or they die of alcohol poisoning.”
Sir Norbert rolled his eyes as Gawen, Lady Kessil, Sir Ziro, and Lady Eirana entered. “I’d love to see them try. So, since we’re all here now, you can explain the new show to us.”
“The story is simple. Lr A’dl blesses two separate people, Amasa and Canace, with immortality, and they are to live on D’nal until they have found Heaven on D’nal. When they first learn of this, they are happy that they have so many years--”
“Who wouldn’t be?” interjected Lady Kessil. “That’s the point of my trade, isn’t it?”
Jada gave her a weary smile, and continued. “Then, they encounter the dark side of immortality. Amasa, knowing he is the perfect soldier, enlists in the army of Manicolus. His acts are heroic and brave, and he soon receives public acclaim in Manicolus after he rescues a group of Descans from being sold as slaves. Even King Mentmac praises him personally.”
“Wait, I can see where you’re going with this. . .”Alaviel frowned. “This makes things difficult for me.”
“That is why you are here. I will not do this without your permission. May I continue?” Jada queried respectfully.
“Of course.”
Jada paused. “Everything continues to go well for Amasa. King Mentmac gives him a special job as an emissary between himself and the emperor Sarzarad of Tre-revaj. He personally arranges a meeting between the two rulers in the Edarth Isles.”
Gawen’s eyes grew wide. “Oh!”
“You remember,” Jada grinned, “what happened that infamous night. With horror, Amasa watches as King Mentmac loses Yaylithe forever. Amasa warns the king not to do it, but he does anyway. When the king realizes what he has done the next morning, he has Amasa killed because he does not wish the truth to come out.”
Sir Ziro frowned. “I thought Amasa was immortal.”
“Exactly,” Jada replied. “Of course, he doesn’t die. He is tortured by their many attempts to kill him, and eventually they put out his eyes and banish him to Yaylithe. In the meantime, without Amasa’s leadership, the army of Manicolus fails and Yaylithe is conquered.”
Jada hesitated, glanced over at Stefus, then continued. “Men and women view things through different lenses. Canace, a native of the Desca Isles, is sold into slavery when her family is unable to pay taxes to the Tre-revaj empire. She is rescued, however, by none other than Amasa. In gratitude, she agrees to work for him after he is promoted to his position as an emissary. She teaches him how to fly. They fall in love, get married, but never tell each other of their immortality. All goes well for them until, after that fateful party, she is told that he is dead. She believes he is dead. She decides to wander the world in search of something that will console her grief, and finds some comfort in random acts of kindness to the poor and the miserable.”
“Amasa wanders, too. He is hoping that somehow he can find this heaven on D’nal so that his eternal misery could be ended. Because he is blind, he is mocked and ridiculed. Only a poor Descan widow is kind to him--”
“Canace, right?” Eirana interjected.
“Correct,“ Jada said. “While others are mocking him and abusing him, she gets them to stop and is kind enough to tend his wounds. Then, as soon as he is healed, he decides to go take refuge in Renni; he has had enough of the nonsense of the surface world. Canace continues to wander about, trying to do good, as Tre-revaj makes it harder and harder for her to do so. She starts to despair of ever finding heaven on D‘nal.”
Jada stopped for a moment, gazing into the distance. Everyone in the room was silent as she swallowed, then continued.
“Canace is giving water to a lost wanderer in the Rashdan desert when a sandstorm arises. The wanderer is lost and Canace is kidnapped and taken down into Renni, where she is held captive by a blind man, a gardener of the fiery vines and trees that grow there. He reveals that he is the blind man she helped, and he kidnapped her because she was the only kind person he ever knew but his wife. She pities him, but begs to return to the surface.” Jada gave a mysterious smile. “The scene that follows is probably my best work.”
The room waited with baited breath as she did that aggravating habit of very slowly taking a long gulp of tea, holding them hostage. She laughed and grinned. “You’ll see it in rehearsal. Needless to say, they discover each other for who they are, and the joy of their reunion constitutes as Heaven on D‘nal. Lr A’dl drops in and rewards them with the opportunity to join Him in Heaven. The two choose to stay instead and fight the injustices they have seen. Lr A’dl restores the sight of Amasa and honors them as His most faithful servants, that they would make such a choice. Together, they return to the surface.”
She gave them a moment of silence for the story to sink in, then tentatively asked, “So what do you think?”
“Great story; good for business,” Sir Norbert smiled.
Lady Kessil frowned. “I assume you are playing Canace, and Stefus is Amasa?” Jada nodded. “Are you prepared for the physical demands of these roles? Granted, I haven’t heard how you intend to stage this, but knowing you, the ‘fiery vines’ are probably real fire and you truly intend to teach him how to fly. And how are you portraying Lr A’dl?”
Jada gave her a lopsided grin. “A few dishas, a voice-over, and illusions. I will do my best to portray the full glory of His presence.”
Lady Kessil sighed deeply. “You’re going to get so many burns doing this. . . And what if, while you’re training Stefus for the flying scenes, he starts to fall?”
“I’m not stupid. All safety measures will be observed, at least until after the performance.”
“And what does that mean?” Lady Kessil snapped. “I don’t even know why I ask you about these safety concerns when you’re going to be arrested for performing it anyway!”
“That is my primary concern, also,” intoned Alaviel. “Are you sure you want to follow through with this? If you do this, you and Stefus just might be able to claim immunity as Rashdans, but the rest of the cast would be jailed.”
“My intentions are quite the opposite. I plan that the rest of the cast will escape and I will be arrested. I will not claim Rashdan immunity. I will reveal my identity in full. Do you think that will drive my point home?” she glared at them.
“Quite,” Sir Ziro cowered under her gaze.
“May I read over the parts that concern Manicalese history before you start rehearsals?” Alaviel asked. “I just want to make sure that it is accurate.”
“Of course,” Jada exclaimed. “I wouldn’t dream of performing it without having Your Majesty check it. Here is a copy of the script.”
“Where does the Council come in?” Gawen asked. “What will become of them afterwards?”
Jada acknowledged him. “They will be my cast, if they vote to do so. They are shown in regular uniform in the last scene. Hopefully, we won’t have any attempts at arrests before then, but I do expect that at that point, they will be quite anxious to jail the entire cast. They will exit with dishas exploding behind them, the exits sealed, and I will reveal my identity, make a stirring little speech, then give them hell when they get me in court. In the meantime, everyone else will be safely hiding in Renni, under Stefus’s leadership.”
Gawen thought about it for a moment. “That would work,” he said slowly.
“Any other questions?” Jada asked.
Who will take your place when you are gone? Alaviel’s voice rang through Jada’s mind, though the room was silent. How will you end what you started?
Jada smiled and said, “Well, then, I hope you have a wonderful day,” thinking, I leave my legacy to you, o Queen, and to the Council. There are possible leaders there.
Alaviel, Eirana, and Ziro left. Sir Norbert looked at Jada strangely for a moment, made a few comments about financing the production, then left. Gawen was still there, looking worried.
“What is it?” Jada asked kindly.
“Mother, I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed. “I mean, I know you are not really my mother, but you’re all I’ve got. If you get arrested, if you go to court, I won’t even have you.”
“What about Eirana? She’ll look after you. Or Stefus?” She hugged Gawen gently. “You know why I do this. I promise that I will not leave you alone. You are an Erif Drathil. You will be strong, like a fire lizard.”
“Lr A’dl dih rah yae.”
“Sih rah yae.”
There was silence as Jada watched him leave, somewhat downcast. Stefus stared at her, unsure what to think. He’d never fully understood the bond between Jada and her adopted son; she had always been fairly private about it. “He really loves you, doesn’t he?”
“Yes,” Jada sighed. “He is one of the few things I’ll regret leaving. And your company. And Eirana’s, and Kessil’s, and. . . Any number of people. But I do this for all of you, and doubtless I will see you all again, when I see Darim again.” She looked up at him. “No need to rush the production, though. We can make the time left as much fun as possible. Now, I’m going to need to make a little trip to get more minerals for my dishas. What a pity,” she added sarcastically.
“A wonderful excuse to get out of here,” he agreed with a grin.
“We can work on our lines on the way there.”
“Yes, Jada.”
She opened her mouth, as if to protest his continually annoying habit of agreeing with her, but thought the better of it. Instead, she asked, “Are you ready to begin your training?”
“Sure,” he shrugged. “Haven’t we started already?”
“That we have,” she grinned. “Before you know it, you and Shalisda will be flying together.” Jada stared at the falcon absentmindedly, then asked, “You still want to do this? You heard Lady Kessil’s concerns.”
“I trust you,” Stefus replied quickly. “A good deal of the time--actually, most of the time--you don’t make much sense to me, but at the very least, you seem to know what you’re doing.”
“You understand me better than most,” Jada sighed. “Sad, eh?”
“No kidding. Can we get started?”
“Sure. Now, what do you remember?”
“Decisions.”
“Have you decided, then?”
He looked puzzled. “Decided what?”
She clucked impatiently. “Whether or not you love flying!”
“All right; I love flying,” he said without enthusiasm.
“That’s not good enough!”
“What is?”
She calmed down a bit, then was struck with a sudden inspiration. “Let’s go outside. Bring Shalisda with you.”
He obliged, and they made their way to the bare yard in front of their cabin.
“She’s trained, right?” Jada asked.
Stefus stroked the falcon affectionately. “As much as one can tame a wild bird. At the very least, she refuses to leave me.”
“How touching. You love her, don’t you?”
“My falcon?”
“Yes; the falcon. If you went to all the bother of bringing her here with you, caring for her, and having her on your shoulder more or less wherever you go, than somewhere down the line, you must have decided to love her,” Jada explained.
Stefus thought about it. “I suppose so. But what does that have to do with flying?”
“If you let her go flying, then, you can decide to follow her, out of love,” Jada postulated.
“If I can’t teach you to fly, Shalisda can. Try it.”
Stefus signaled to the falcon, who glided into the crisp morning air with the smooth, powerfully curving wings of a raptor in fine condition. Even Jada had to admire the fierce beauty of this bird. Stefus watched her for a moment, then slowly rose off the ground. Falcon and man circled each other in midair, Stefus looking amazed that he had done this on his own.
“It’s easy!” he laughed like a child. “Why didn’t you make it this easy in the first place?”
Jada rose up to join them. “Ah, I tried, but I suppose you just had to discover it for yourself. You were thinking too hard about letting go of the ground to actually do it. Now,” she instructed, “in performance it’s me you’re following, not Shalisda. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Jada.” He signaled Shalisda to land, then fixed his gaze on Jada, actually moving more smoothly than before..
Her face paled, and she whispered, “We’re outside! I’m Sarepta, not Jada.”
Irritated, he rolled his eyes and was shocked to find himself dropping out of the sky. Jada’s eyes grew wide and light briefly flashed out of them as she slowed him down to meet the ground safely. She sank, disappointed and exhausted, beside him. “I’m sorry. We just have to be careful.”
“I know. After all, who knows what listening ears might be around at this hour?” he remarked with pronounced sarcasm. She glared at him, and he sighed. “I can follow you and I can follow Shalisda, but I can’t follow Sarepta.”
She rubbed her forehead. “Consider Sarepta and I the same people with different names. After all, Sarepta is your wife; you should be able to follow her, even if you couldn’t follow me. On stage, you’ll be following Canace. But I’m underneath all of it.”
“Should we give it another try?” he suggested.
“I need a breather,” she panted. “I was genuinely scared for you when you started to fall, and the catch wasn’t easy. The moment you get scared, it gets harder to do things like this. Drains you.” Her breathing slowed and she looked up with a smile. “All right. One more try.” She stretched out her arms and soared into the sky with grace and ease. Without a moment’s hesitation, Stefus joined her. “Wonderful,” Jada praised him. “Just wonderful.”
He beamed with pride. “Do you think we could attempt some choreography?”
“Ah, but first we need to learn the music.” She smirked. “You can fly now, but can you land?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted, then made a rough landing as her feet gracefully touched the ground.
“We’ll have to work on that,” Jada laughed. “Come, enough flying; we will go to the desert, you and I, and I will teach you how to walk through fire. First, though, we must assemble our cast and get them started learning their roles.”

“I’m glad you were able to arrange a lunch meeting with me,” Alfonso smiled across the table at his Queen in the dining room of his private quarters. “I know how hard it is for you to get off work.”
“Well, I used connections to pull strings,” Alaviel grinned. “It always amuses me, the power Sir Norbert has over the weak-minded minions in charge of the jengda.”
“He’s a useful person.” He paused thoughtfully, glass poised in midair. “As nice as it is to share a meal with you, I must wonder, why did you go to the trouble to see me?”
Alaviel sighed. “I have just received a major piece of intelligence, and I wanted to share it with you before the rest of my advisors. Jada has formulated a plan, and I would like to offer her your services in executing it, if you are willing.”
“I am a musician, not a weapons master. Why would she need a musician?”
“You forget that she is a musician, too. She wrote a play,” Alaviel explained. “Actually, more of a musical. She’s going to need musicians, and she’s going to need to somehow be sure that there will be a large audience to see it. That’s where you come in.”
“What good will a play do for the jengda?” Alfonso frowned. “Of all the plans she could have made, she comes up with this?”
Alaviel chuckled. “I know it sounds a bit crazy, but you haven’t read the script. The story of the play is wrapped around a telling of the real history of the nations--the truth that, yes, we have been trying to hide, too, but can’t be hidden any longer. This will expose the crimes of Tre-revaj, maybe stir up enough anger against them to cause them to change. We will see.”
“This is treason for the entire cast of such a play,” Alfonso realized. “Who does she intend to drag down with her?”
“Her cast will doubtlessly be composed heavily of the group of jengda she has been educating in the forest. She has formulated plans to hide them in Folona or Renni, if Folona will not accept them.” She bit her lip--hard. “It’s risky, and everyone involved will become fugitives. That is why I cannot command you to do this. I can only ask you.”
“I will do this for you, Your Majesty,” he replied quietly, “because I trust you.”
“Thank you, Alfonso,” she smiled wearily. “Jada’s plan will probably protect you as well, but if it doesn’t, I will see what hell I can raise in Jegundo on your behalf.”
He smirked. “I would love to see what that would look like.”
“Oh, you’ll see it anyway, whether it’s for you or not,” Alaviel grimaced. “Our suicidal playwright has no intention of protecting herself, so I must protect her.”
“Good luck with that.” He laughed. “I don’t think she’d let you.”
“I can try,” Alaviel insisted, “and I can try and help you as well. My kingdom comes first, but you follow close behind.” She pursed her lips. “I almost wish I had another agent more capable than you for this task--I will send Braerraire also, but--” she halted and looked up at him. “I’m not sure if I should tell you.”
“Tell me what?” His gaze was intense.
She met his gaze and pierced through it. In an instant, she was in his mind, a sensation that had been awkward at first, but was now one he thoroughly enjoyed. When I do this, you know I am here. I do not hide from you, and you do not block me.
Why would I? You are my Queen.
He does not allow me to enter consciously. I can only enter hidden. If I enter as I do with you now, he blocks me. Entering hidden takes so much energy, I cannot allow myself to distract that much power from my people, who need it.
Only those who have something to hide block.
Exactly. Manicalese and Tre-revaj flags swirled from her mind to his. Just a speculation. Speak of it to no one, not even to me, not even this way, if there is one as powerful as Sir Norbert or I nearby. We must not tip our hand. If he is a traitor, it may be advantageous for us to keep an eye on him. Better here, working for us, than away, spilling our secrets.
Understood, Your Majesty.

Gawen gave Navira a rare smile as she joined him outside the castle to walk to the forest. She smiled in turn, but wearily, and it did not last long. “I am pleased to see you, Gawen,” she said as they started walking. “You have been very kind to me, and not many are.”
Something in her tone and the way that she opened the conversation caught his attention. She was usually so shy, and he tended to do most of the talking. “Thank you,” he responded. “I am always glad to see you.”
It was the truth; he took every excuse he could find to be with her, even if it meant pretending he was still a university jengda. He had become inexplicably taken with her as new feelings he did not understand grew inside of him. He had attempted to express these to Jada, and she had merely laughed in the same way Kessil laughed at her and said, “Just talk to her, get to know her, and eventually you’ll understand.” So, he had taken her advice and the two of them had become fast friends.
Gawen proceeded to occupy her with trifling small-talk, making jokes in an attempt to get her to laugh. She did, but it was a very nervous, albeit genuine, laugh. Obviously, something was bothering her. As they began to see the faint glow of the scarsh fire, he could bear it no longer. “Navira, what’s wrong?” he asked.
She tightened her lips. “I will tell you,” she finally said after an uneasy silence. “I am afraid, Gawen, very afraid--”
“Of what?” He frowned. Life as a jengda involved many things to be afraid of, but it had to be something out of the ordinary for it to disturb her this much. She did not, of course, know about the plan yet, so it could not be that.
“I’m afraid because--” she gave him the look of a trapped animal, and swallowed hard. “Judith bought me this morning.”
They were not quite to the clearing yet, but they stopped, Gawen entrapped in a stunned silence. Instinctively, he reached out and put his arm around her, and she let her head rest on his shoulder. He felt the dampness of her tears soak through his shirt. Inexplicable emotions of agony and bliss stole over him, but he let them pass in the silence.
Presently, he spoke. “Navira, that creature did not buy you because you cannot be bought. You are not her slave, and you do not belong to her. You are free, because you are one of the children of Lr A’dl. She can’t take that from you, no matter what else she does.”
“But the things she can do! Gawen,” she raised up her head and looked straight into his eyes, the tears in her own casting reflections from the scarsh fire that made them even more beautiful to him, “she is worse than the Lady Isabelle. If I do anything wrong, she can kill me. Look what she did to Jada, and she’s so much stronger than I am.”
Gawen closed his eyes as the terrifying memories of the fight washed over him--Jada, fighting Lady Judith alone. . .her being struck down with the sword. . .watching Stefus rush like a madman to drag her bleeding, unconscious form out of the water before she would be beyond saving.
Well, he would have to be Navira’s protector, as Stefus was to Jada. “Courage, Navira,” he said gently, “Lr A’dl is with you, and who knows? Maybe you are there for a reason. No matter what happens,” he added tentatively, “know that I am here for you.”
The words hung heavily in the air for a second, then Navira smiled--this time a lasting smile. She dried her tears and, trembling, gingerly brushed her lips against his. “Thank you,” she whispered.
They walked arm in arm into the clearing, Gawen in a daze.

“This is my plan; I will hear anybody who has anything to say about it at this time,” Jada concluded her opening speech to the Council. “Not a one of you is to be a member of the cast unless you want it. Remember, if you do this, you will be a fugitive like me for the rest of your life.”
“How do we know it will even be worth the risk?” queried a jengda. “How do we know that you getting arrested and us being hunted and displaced will do any good whatsoever for our cause?”
Jada smiled softly. “That’s the kind of thinking that keeps it from being any good. Do you know how magic works? When you have such a strong intent to do good for something, that intent becomes power. The more intent, the more power. When we have nobles and dignitaries from all over the world trapped in a room prey to our combined intent, they will be changed. There will be good. They will hear us, and even if nothing happens immediately, there will be debate, and their thinking will be challenged.”
Terpsichore’s hand shot straight up. “It sounds like a great idea,” she said, “but it takes up so much time. Time is not something a lot of us have. When would we practice?”
“Where does our time come from for this?” Jada countered. “These sessions will be converted into rehearsals. Remember, also, that Sir Norbert has excellent talents of persuasion when it comes to getting Moks and Isabelle to release jengda for his purposes.”
Other questions followed.
“We certainly don’t have enough people to pull off an event this large, even with Sir Norbert’s help. How will we get enough? And what about musicians?”
“Nobles,” Jada stated firmly. “We will enlist the help of nobles.”
The room was suddenly filled with mutterings. “Sir Norbert’s one thing, we can trust him, but anyone else? No,” were among the statements. Jada met Alaviel’s eyes and heard, quite distinctly, Good luck, mediator, spoken to her mind with some amusement. Jada mentally growled back at her and raised up a hand to silence them.
“Of course it won’t just be any nobles,” she reassured them. “They will be trustworthy--how many of you have Lady Kessil healed? How many of you have heard of Lady Eirana’s kindness to her jengda? How many of you have heard of how the Manicalese nobles here have no jengda, but paid servants who choose their own tasks?”
There was silence.
“All in favor of enlisting the help of nobles, say ‘aye’!”
With some hesitation, it was said.
“All opposed, ‘nay’!”
To Jada’s relief, there was silence once more.
“It is voted, then. We will enlist the help of our upper-class friends. “
They don’t know how upper-class, Alaviel commented. Is now a good time?
Not yet, Your Majesty, Jada replied, didn’t you sense how hard that was for them?
I guess.
The exchange had been almost instantaneous, but already the Council was looking at her strangely, so she continued, “Only one item remains on the agenda, then. Stefus and I are leaving on a journey tomorrow, and someone will need to be left in charge of the Council while I am gone, to oversee your progress. I will now entertain motions to that topic.”
After some deliberation, Terpsichore was selected. Jada spent a few minutes passing out music and running over the basics of how to read it, then the meeting was adjourned.
“Well, that’s over,” Stefus sighed in relief as he helped Jada pack up her materials. “I was amazed that they voted in noble help so quickly.”
“So was I,” she replied. “After this, I look forward to a good, long journey. Gawen, do you want to come with us?”
He hesitated, his face pale in an expression Jada had never seen him wear before.
“No,” he said finally.
Puzzled, Jada asked, “Why not? Don’t you want to see Clevia? The Rashdan Desert? Don’t you want to meet Stefus’s mother?”
“I do,” he paused. “It’s just that. . . This time, I want to stay behind,” he affirmed.
“I get that,” Jada said, puzzled. “But why?”
Gawen heaved a great sigh and muttered something incomprehensible.
“What was that?” asked Stefus, interested.
“Come on, son,” Jada intoned quietly. “Tell me.”
Gawen spoke more clearly this time. “All right,” he said, hardly daring to meet her eyes. “Navira has been assigned to Lady Judith’s service, and I’m concerned for her. She’s. . . my friend, and I don’t want anything to happen to her. Surely you can understand that?” It was Stefus he addressed now. “There’s no telling what Judith might do, after what she did to Jada.”
“I understand,” Stefus said gently. “Look, it’s not your responsibility to look after her--”
“How is it any less than that you have to Jada?” Gawen shot back at him.
“That’s different,” Stefus sighed. “That’s one of those binding Rashdan things.”
Jada frowned. “You’re free to go at any time. I’ve made that clear--you’re not really bound to me by any Rashdan promise.”
“All right, so promise or not, it’s still different,” Stefus replied testily.
“I don’t see how,” Gawen grouched.
Jada shook her head sadly. “I think we’re missing something here. Gawen, what happened?”
“She,” he hesitated again, “she--she kissed me.”
Both Stefus and Jada reeled back in surprise. “What?”
“That’s what happened,” Gawen shrugged. “I can’t leave her after that.”
“I suppose not,” Jada said finally, after an awkward silence. “You may stay here.” She thought for a moment, then remarked, “We may actually be able to use this to our advantage.”
It was Gawen’s turn to be surprised. “How?”
“She’ll be working right in the center of Judith’s operations, right?” Jada queried.
“That’s right. . .”
“She’ll have access, then, to many things that none of us could dream of accessing,” she postulated. “She could act as our spy, but only if she wishes to do so.”
Gawen considered this for a moment. “It’s risky,” he said finally. “How would we get information to you?”
Stefus smiled. “I don’t keep birds just for decoration, you know--”
“Of course not; you use them for fletching, but how does that help me?” Gawen growled.
“Yes, it is handy to have flocks of birds on hand for fletching, but it would be pointless to have so many just for that. Each of them I have trained carefully to respond to certain commands--to fly in time to music, to attack enemies, and even,” his smile broadened, “to carry messages.”
He patted Shalisda fondly, and for the first time Gawen saw the full fierce beauty of the bird. “Shalisda’s too conspicuous,” he frowned.
“Surely you don’t think I only keep Shalisda here with me?” Stefus laughed. “No, you only see her because I keep her with me all the time. I have entire flocks here, and they blend in with the natural bird population perfectly--it is impossible to tell one of my birds apart from a common sparrow. Vatyat, emoc oth em!” Stefus called.
There was a slight rustling in the trees and a tiny sparrow flew down and landed in Stefus’s hand. “Give Vatyat to her,” Stefus handed the bird over to Gawen. “He responds to Rashdan commands only, so you’ll have to teach her. If you roll up your message on a small piece of paper, he can carry it to me in his beak.”
Gawen took the sparrow, thanked Stefus, and left the clearing.
Impressed, Jada asked, “Exactly how many birds do you have here, anyway?”
He grinned. “Colf rethag thiw em!”
Jada stared in wonder as the forest suddenly came alive and hundreds of birds--sparrows, doves, blackbirds, swallows, eagles, owls, and even a few pheasants and swans rushed in with an overwhelming sound of flapping wings.
“I never knew,” she whispered in awe, watching the circling flocks that blotted out the stars with their numbers. “And even more reside in Folona?”
“Yes,” he replied, enjoying her reactions. “We have birds in every major city of the world, ready to be mobilized. My main concern is hunters, though; nothing kills my flocks faster than a good hunting party.”
With another command, they had all dissipated, and once more the forest was quiet again.
“Wow,” was all Jada could say.
As they started back, Stefus remarked, “That’s pretty wild there, Gawen and that girl. I didn’t know he had it in him.”
“Neither did I,” Jada admitted. “He’s already passed me up. I’m concerned for him, though. He seems too young to be doing this sort of thing.”
Stefus shrugged. “He’s not much younger than I was when I decided to stay here.”
“That’s right,” she remembered. “Wow, so much time has passed. . . I can hardly believe it’s already been five years.”
“Neither can I.”
She smiled at him, amused. “It’s been a wild ride.”
“I knew it would be.”
Jada looked at him intently for a moment. “Why, then, did you stay? You never even had to come. You could have just left it all behind in the desert that night.”
He stopped, turned towards her, and grinned. “I would have missed the adventure.”
She stared at him for a moment, looking as though she might hit him, then the two of them burst out laughing, the sound of it echoing like merry bells throughout the forest as they walked, arm in arm, back to the enchanting lights of the town on the lake.

Sand Ch. 9: The New Council

“Now, the main concept of illusions is fairly basic--project an image from your imagination into reality without calling it into existence,” Sir Norbert explained to his advanced magic class. “Like so,” he grinned, his eyes flickering to where Sir Ziro and Lady Eirana were pretending to pay rapt attention to him, but he could hear the mental conversation they were having.
Are you going to the Red Dragon after class?
Of course. I can’t wait to meet Jada after all you’ve told me about her. And, of course, Lady Kessil is making me watch you like a hawk.
Seeing the trouble you caused at the Festival, maybe I should be watching you like a hawk.
I was watching you first.
What?
Well, you’re fun to watch. It’s the way your hair moves.
Their conversation was cut off as they were astonished by an apparition of Lady Eirana in front of the class, flinging her hair back in shiny black waves behind her.
“Now this,” Sir Norbert smiled indulgently at the two of them as they turned two shades of deep scarlet, “is why you don’t spill your life’s secrets via mental communication when a mage of my caliber is present. I will see both of you after class, and you know who I mean.”
After class, when the room had emptied of all students but the two of them, Sir Norbert approached them. “I am very disappointed in you,” he said gravely.
“Are you?” Sir Ziro asked defiantly. Lady Eirana glared at him.
“Your actions deserve punishment. Therefore,” he kept his gaze stern, “I am inviting you both to dinner.”
“Ha! We were coming already.” Sir Ziro matched his evil eye.
“Well, then, one option remains.”
“Oh, and what’s that?”
Sir Norbert broke into a smile. “Go and visit my Rashdan performer Sarepta, and ask her how she feels about her new act. Don’t forget to duck. I’m sure she can fill you in on whatever you missed during class about illusions.”
All three of them burst out laughing, and Ziro and Eirana quickly hurried down to the lake--the walk was still substantial, but they hurried through it and it seemed much shorter because they enjoyed each other’s company. Finally, they reached Jada’s cabin, and gingerly knocked, snickering as they heard the shifting inside.
“Hello,” a lady with dark, dark brown hair that was almost black answered the door. Her eyes were a soft almond color.
“We’re here to see Sarepta Astul Lethya.”
“One and the same,” the lady let them in, shut the door, and locked it behind her with an evil grin on her face.
“Great disguise, Jada,” Eirana complimented her. “I didn’t recognize you.”
“Thank you,” Jada replied curtly as they sat down on the cushions inside her room. From across the hallway, they could hear Stefus moving about in his room. “He just woke up,” she explained. “We’re going to work soon.”
“Late risers, eh?”
“Do you really think that I could throw all of this together in fifteen minutes?” Jada growled at him. “I’ve been up for several hours. I made Stefus sleep because he’s been up all night doing Lr A’dl-knows-what. Wait a second,” Jada studied Sir Ziro’s features carefully. “You’re the one, the spineless one from the party I saved.”
“That’s right,” Sir Ziro said slowly. “Thank you, by the way. Lady Judith’s had it in for me for years, and she happened to catch me in a moment of--er--weakness.”
“As in inebriated,” Jada said crisply. She looked from Ziro to Eirana, then from Eirana back to Ziro, and light seemed to dawn for her. “Is he--?” she asked Eirana.
“Stuck with the same job as Stefus?”
Jada nodded.
“Yes,” Eirana smiled. “He was quite happy to take on the task.”
“You turn my hair white before my time,” Jada exclaimed. “Keep your eye on him, and keep the bottle far from him.”
“Hey! Eirana told me you thought it was rude to talk about people in the third person while they are present.”
“You think you don’t turn mine white before my time?” Eirana rolled her eyes. “Just look at the circumstances that brought us here.”
Jada bit her lip. There was no arguing with that. “I-I’m just concerned for you,” she said finally. “You’re probably the closest friend I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to lose you. We are sisters, you see.”
“I agree.”
“Now,” Jada quirked an eyebrow. “Whose brilliant idea was it to make this my new disguise?”
“It was a collaborative effort,” Eirana replied innocently enough as Ziro dissolved into snickers. “It’s just that I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, and there’s always these awkward pauses which causes me to wonder if there is something there.”
Stefus’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect as Jada, tongue-tied, stared at Eirana, not believing what she was hearing. He strode into the room, completely oblivious to the previous conversation. “Ah! Why didn’t you tell me we had company?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you as you were getting ready,” she replied, smiling. “You look nice tonight--the rest served you well.”
Despite her theories about the two Rashdans, Eirana had to admit Jada had a point there. He looked refreshed and relaxed, possessing an energy he had lacked in the last few weeks. He had tamed his black hair into something resembling a style for a change, and he wore traditional Rashdan garb instead of the rough brown jengda tunic he usually donned. The falcon had taken its place on his shoulder, and it glared at Eirana with a steely gaze.
“Why so dressy?” Ziro queried, smirking.
“A performer must dress well out of respect for their audience,” Stefus said lightly. “I have a very important performance tonight.” His tone grew serious. “Jada, I think you should know that Tartath is staying at the Red Dragon. I’ve been trying my best to avoid him, but he won’t leave me alone. He has gotten too curious about my personal life, about you--” he blushed.
“It’s all right,” Jada said gently. “He won’t even recognize me like this.”
“He’ll know your voice.”
“Not with this accent.”
For the first time, Eirana realized that there was not even a hint of Rashdan inflection left in Jada’s speech. When Stefus spoke common, it was usually well-accented with Rashdan; if there was an accent in Jada’s speech, it was Cunadran, the language of the icy land north of the Edarth Isles.
“Shall we go?” Ziro asked.
The others agreed, and within moments they were inside the Red Dragon, joining the crowd of laughing, talking students and travelers. Tartath was sitting, once again, at a table with Sir Norbert, who was continuously massaging his temples. The moment he saw Stefus, he cried, “Come join us!”
The four of them sat down with the two bachelors.
“You still have that bloody bird?” Tartath asked, eyeing the falcon. “I didn’t know they lived this long. Still use it for combat?”
“With proper care, a falcon can live a very long time. I’m afraid she hasn’t had combat practice in a long time.”
“Now who is this, Stefus?” Tartath winked, looking at Jada. “Don’t tell me you lied to me.”
“Of course I did,” Stefus said lightly. “This is the woman. I didn’t tell you about her because I knew you would tease me mercilessly.”
“Are you ashamed of me, Stefus?” she challenged him with a glint in her eye.
“Of course not,” Stefus smiled politely. “I don’t think I’ve introduced you. This is Tartath, that old school friend of mine I was telling you about.”
“I’m so pleased to meet you,” Jada lied.
“And you are…?”
“Sarepta Astul Lethya.”
Tartath choked on his ice. “You got married, Stefus?”
“Well, did you expect me to stay a bachelor forever?” Stefus was indignant. “Just because I don’t play the ladies--”
“Yeah, but how did you rate her?” Tartath turned to Jada, mouth open. “How on D’nal did he ever manage to convince you to marry him?”
She was a master at this game. Method acting. “He would visit me while I was working in the library at Clevia,” she smiled, as if in the middle of a happy memory while her mind was swiftly calculating the right details to use for this situation to make it believable. “He actually stopped to talk whenever he checked a book out from the library. He, Wylth and I would spend hours just talking about theology, books, and all sorts of things. I fell in love with his sense of humor and his practical take on the ancient books. We wrote letters back and forth, and it all progressed from there.”
“That is so like you,” Tartath laughed. “Don’t take this wrong, Sarepta, but I don’t think your husband would have managed to get a wife any other way.”
“Maybe that says something about his methods,” Jada laughed. “I found him perfectly charming.”
“Charming?” Tartath chuckled. “All right, Stefus; you have changed. Will you forgive me for what I said about you and Jada?”
Jada frowned. “Is that the friend you were telling me about?” she asked Stefus.
“Yes,” he answered quickly, having a hard time catching onto the thread of deception.
“What was he saying about her?” She fixed him with the piercing stare of a jealous wife while inside she was bursting with curiosity.
“Oh, just that she broke up with me because she was attracted to him. She was an old girlfriend of mine,” he added. “I also somewhat accused him of taking her from me.”
Sir Norbert suddenly dipped his fingers into his ice water and started rubbing the cool liquid on his forehead in agony. Noting his behavior, Jada asked Stefus, “Is this true?”
“Absolutely not,” Stefus said quickly. “Well, I don’t know about her.” His next words sounded extremely unnatural for him. “You mean more to me than she ever could have.”
Sir Norbert finally moaned, “Tartath, do you mind if I speak with my friends in a private parlor? We are planning the entertainment for the next month, and we want it to be a surprise.”
“Of course.”
The five of them swiftly made their way to a private parlor. Lady Kessil and Gawen were waiting inside, having come in from a back door. After greeting them, Sir Norbert burst out, “Could you just hold onto your emotions for five minutes? You give me a headache.”
“Do I need you to start taking sedatives during the day, too?” Lady Kessil asked, concerned.
“No,” he growled. “I need to live somewhere far away from everyone else. Or better yet, somewhere where I am the only sober one in the lot.”
“No wonder you like being with Tartath,” Jada mumbled.
“Gawen,” Stefus said, “is everything in order for tonight?”
“Everyone is eager for information, so they are all coming. Not just the school of freedom, but the school of letters, too.”
“You’re so serious, Gawen,” Sir Ziro joked. “Lighten up a little.”
“They think it’s a funeral we’re having,” Gawen informed them. “I figured I might as well get into character.”
“I have a crazy plan for tonight,” Jada announced.
There was a deep intake of breath around the room.
“No offense, Jada, but how crazy?” Sir Ziro asked.
“Does it involve yet more work for me?” Lady Kessil chimed in.
“Kessil, I’m afraid it does,” Jada smiled mischievously.
Kessil grew angry. “What suicidal idea have you dreamed up this time?”
“Do you want me to write to my mother?” Stefus growled. “Better yet, in that disguise, how would you like to go see her and tell her what crazy thing you’re doing now?”
“Actually, I’d quite enjoy that, seeing as I haven’t left this depressing hellhole of a town for four years, and you know how much I love to travel,” she replied curtly. “My plan does not actually involve bodily harm, if all goes well, and I’m actually asking for help, something you’ve been trying to get me to do for lo these many years.”
“Well, what do you want us to do?”
“I want all of you nobles to join the Council.”
There was a dead silence, then Jada continued. “Only, of course, if the existing Council votes you into their ranks. The thing is, my people made a mistake when, after freeing ourselves from Tre-revaj rule, we learned to hate all people from Tre-revaj.”
“Don’t we all?” Sir Ziro arched his brow.
“My point,” Jada sighed, “is that many of them have come to hate nobles as a group. The problem is that not all nobles are the same. I want them to learn this. Am I asking too much?” She looked up at them. “You do not have to do this if you do not wish to do so. You have a week to think about it. I hate to ask, because I know that if you join, you will likely end up like me.”
“You’re not doing badly right now,” Lady Kessil made an attempt at comfort. “The world believes that you are dead, and now you are free.”
“Am I really?” Her voice was hollow. “Certainly, I am, if you believe that wearing a mask until the mask is your skin is freedom. Surely I am if you believe that I can just leave these people here. No, duty chains me to them, as it does Stefus to me. I tell you, Stefus, I would not think the lesser of you if you broke that chain now while you still can. I only know that I cannot break mine, not until I am dead or successful. I am free to leave, but I cannot. I am still a jengda.” She forced herself to smile. “I take this happily, though. I know it is my destiny.”

Alaviel was filled with apprehension as she made her way towards the woods. In addition to her work in the castle, some very disturbing reports had been coming to her from her advisors about the state of affairs in her own country. It had become widely known to them that Jada had fallen in the fight at the Festival, and there had been demonstrations both for and against jengda rights as a result. Also, the rumors about her being the one predicted in Yonba’s prophecy were spreading like wildfire, causing her impersonator at court great distress.
Also, in a way, she felt somewhat responsible for the young Rashdan’s fate. She had thought that in Jada, perhaps, she had found someone who actually understood the rigors of keeping up disguises and balancing political matters. If only she had silenced Lady Judith when she’d had the chance. . .but that would have turned out worse.
She was filled with curiosity as she saw the familiar faint light of the scarsh fire shine through the trees. She, like Sir Norbert, had keen senses, passed down to her through her royal bloodline. Whoever was holding the scarsh fire was doing a fine job of keeping their emotions steady.
There was already a sizable group there when she arrived at the source of the scarsh fire. Stefus was already there, along with that annoying little boy of Jada’s who kept on going about what an important part he played in the Council since Jada had fallen. Stefus had with him a newcomer, who Alaviel knew would easily fool everyone except her--there was no mistaking this woman’s thought processes. No one else could be so good at fluctuating between two personas.
As she sat down on the one rough blanket she had purchased from a beggar for the purpose of these meetings, she noted Terpsichore emerging into the clearing and accosting Stefus with questions. He tersely told her to sit down as the woman behind him did her best to stifle a chuckle.
“Good evening,” Stefus finally said as it seemed that everyone was there, and he proceeded to take roll. They had just started this process recently under Jada’s insistence that they have some idea of where people were. They had grown to the point where it was necessary so that no one was forgotten. Tonight, everyone was here except for Jada, whose name he skipped.
“What has happened to Jada?” someone asked when he had finished.
“Yeah, what happened to Keri?”
“Keri is dead,” Stefus said somberly. “She was buried just yesterday if you’d like to see her grave. The High Court examined the body and closed the Erif Drathil case.”
Alaviel frowned. Did he really think they were going to buy this?
“What are we going to do for a leader, then?”
Stefus smiled as he clasped the hand of the woman next to him. This action seemed very mechanical, almost unnatural for both of them. “I would like you to meet my wife, Sarepta Astul Lethya. She would be willing to lead you.”
There was a moment of shock before everyone erupted into whispers. Alaviel rolled her eyes. She wouldn’t even have had to be telepathic to catch that one.
“I thought that we appointed our leaders!” Terpsichore bellowed.
“That is true,” Stefus grinned. “That is why I am putting it to a vote. She is my nomination. Anyone else may place nominations, and all the nominees will make a speech. We will see, then, if I was correct in assuming that you would want my wife as your leader.”
Alaviel almost laughed as she saw all the furtive looks everyone shot at Stefus as they named nominees for the leadership position. Gawen, Terpsichore, Stefus, and even Alaviel herself were named. Gawen refused to give a speech, as did Terpsichore and Stefus.
That left Alaviel. She did not like making speeches, but the amusing nature of the situation warranted one. “All I will say,” she said curtly as she rose, “is that if you elected me, you would definitely be getting more than you bargained for.”
“Very well, “ Stefus responded with a raised eyebrow. “Now, Sarepta--your speech?”
“Sarepta” smiled, laughed, and stepped forward. A discerning eye would be able to note a slight weakness in her movements.
“I understand,” she began calmly, “that you mourn your friend Keri. It is very important that you remember exactly how you feel right now so that her memory will not be forgotten. Before I met Stefus, I was a student of Jada’s teacher Wylth. I have learned all the same principles of justice and democracy that Jada did. I wish to continue her legacy.” All of a sudden, she flashed them all a smile. “Now, how many of you did not believe a word I just said?”
Alaviel, Gawen, Stefus, and one or two others swiftly rose their hands.
“Gawen and Stefus, of course, should know. Alaviel,” there was some surprise by the others that this woman actually knew Alaviel’s name “tell me why you do not believe a word I just said.”
“Do you want the real answer or the funny one?” Sarepta’s eyes connected with hers, and they were easily playing off of each other. This was fun.
“Whichever you chose,” Sarepta replied.
“Stefus would never get a girl like you.”
“Why does everyone say that?” Stefus kicked at the dirt in frustration and only succeeded in stubbing his toe. “Am I really that bad?”
“Not really,” Sarepta smiled. “You’ve made significant improvements.”
“In all seriousness,” Alaviel continued as Stefus looked annoyed, “you have not used your left arm all evening and you and Stefus do not seem comfortable, ah--”
“I know what you mean,” Sarepta cut her off. “That is because we are not, in fact, married in any sense of the word, and I have not used my left arm all evening because it is still healing from a rather unpleasant fight with Lady Judith about a week ago.”
She paused to let the effects of her words sink in. It was shy, shy Navira who gingerly got up, walked over to Sarepta and carefully ran her fingers across her face. “Five scars. You can hardly feel them through all the makeup, but they‘re there,” she barely whispered, and embraced Sarepta in a gentle hug. “I knew you were alive.”
“Just barely,” Jada sighed, for it was, in fact, her. “The grave is empty. I am no longer pursued by the High Court. This is a disguise, like the last one. I can pull it away if you’d like, but I am so tired, you see. I am lucky to be alive at all. I am only here today because a noblewoman saved me.”
Alaviel could see where this was heading. The others sat alongside her, hardly daring to believe that what they heard was true.
“I could leave, I guess,” Jada mused. “I could disappear, and never be seen again. If you need me, however, I will stay. Just know that I will do whatever it takes to help you, and now you see that it is no empty promise.”
Exhausted, she slowly sat down. Stefus looked at her in admiration and nearly choked as he asked them for their votes. It was unanimous: Jada was, once more, their leader.
As the meeting progressed and they voted in several nobles to their ranks, Alaviel felt a pang of guilt. Jada had been completely forthright with her disguise and had more or less revealed all. She continued to hide in secrecy. Then again, Jada had no one but herself to worry about; Alaviel had an entire country.
When they had adjourned, she waited behind until everyone but Stefus, Jada, and Gawen had left. They seemed to take an extra-long amount of time tonight, as Jada was completely exhausted and taking some time to gather up the strength required for the walk back to their cabin. Stefus and Gawen seemed quite happy to stay, and Alaviel knew why. Gawen would have to return to Jengda Quarters, and Stefus and Jada would have to face the awkward situation of living together. Jada was extending Gawen an invitation to live with them.
“We would love to have you with us,” she said soothingly. “It’s probably much more comfortable than Jengda Quarters.”
“It would look suspicious,” Gawen replied. “Besides, you hear the best gossip up in Jengda Quarters. You need someone with an ear in the castle; just because you have moved out to the lake doesn’t mean everyone else has.”
“Excuse me,” Alaviel gently interrupted.
Jada immediately dropped to one knee; the other two followed suit.
“You do not have to do that,” Alaviel smiled as she bent down and sat on the ground beside them. “Out here, just as you are Stefus’s wife, I am but a jengda.”
“I cannot show you deference in public,” Jada intoned, “but at least I can pay you proper respect here, Your Majesty. For the record, you’re probably the only monarch who would receive this treatment from me.”
“So all three of you know who I am?”
“You know we do.”
Alaviel sighed. “Do you think I should tell them?”
“Not now,” Jada replied. “They would not understand. They would consider you a spy.”
“That’s what I thought.”
The four of them just stared at each other in silence for a moment.
“Thank you, Your Majesty, for saving my life again,” Jada said gratefully. “I did not deserve it.”
“Do not refer to me as Your Majesty ever again,” Alaviel smiled. “Thank you for supporting me. I feel so alone sometimes--it’s nice to know that someone else knows. Other than Sir Alfonso, of course. He just doesn’t understand what it’s like, though. . .”
“I know,” Jada said sympathetically. “Say, why don’t you help us? I know you have your own advisors to meet with, but it’s about time we didn’t have to spy on each other to know what’s going on.”
“I would love to,” Alaviel agreed, surprised for a change--this had been the very reason why she had waited behind. Then she frowned. “Have you really been spying on mine? It’s really not appropriate for even you to know all of the business of the government of Manicalus.”
“Not intentionally,” Gawen admitted. “I just happened to be looking for you on the night of the fight and overheard your advisors reprimanding you. We know it’s none of our business.”
“The night I overheard you, it was also by accident,” Jada added. “It’s not even by carelessness that you are overheard, but by the extreme unlikelihood that anyone in their right mind would be climbing the castle walls.”
“And you must know that Sir Norbert’s mind is so sensitive that he can pick up on any significantly strong emotion,” Stefus informed her.
“Actually,” Alaviel smiled, “he was my original contact here. I knew when I came that I could never hide from him, as I have the same problem. He hates it here so much that he’ll do anything to get back at the bureaucratic idiots who put him here. He has the curse of being powerful without a job that calls for it, like mine. Have you ever wondered where his estate really is?”
“Well, I assumed--”
“It’s Clevia. He owns the temple city of Clevia, which is also a key trade port. You can see now why the High Court would be so eager to banish him here to Delixia. They repossessed his estate, and now he lives here.”
“So that’s why he’s so bitter!” Gawen exclaimed. “I would be, too.”
“It was vital that I had his support before I came here, because he would easily sense my presence. I got more than his support; I got his services as a spy.”
“So that’s why you were in the pub while I was talking with Tartath,” Stefus recalled. “I couldn’t think of why you would be there.”
“Ah, was that Tartath?”
“I apologize for any inappropriate comments he may have made to you, your Majesty. He thinks he’s Lr A’dl’s gift to women.”
“It’s not your fault,” Alaviel smiled. “I’ve heard worse. Just curious, Jada--what did you ever see in him?”
Jada frowned. “Can’t you read it out of me?”
“If I really wanted to, I could, but my interest for the present moment is purely academic.” An amused smile played upon her lips.
Jada was at a loss for what to say, and found her forehead getting warm as Gawen and Stefus eyed her with curiosity, also. “He had a way with words,” she said finally. “I helped him out of a tough spot involving a Layor Niol woman, and we hit it off from there.”
Alaviel laughed. “A way with words--that’s definitely the truth! Well, I’d better get going.”
“Don’t keep your advisors waiting,” Gawen chuckled.
Alaviel turned towards the castle and slowly disappeared into the trees.
“A way with words, eh?” Stefus grinned. “You seem to have a thing for that.”
Jada felt like she was going to die from embarrassment. “Well, can you blame me? I mean, Gawen has some pretty strange tastes in women.”
“Hey! That’s not fair.”
“I mean, do you think that it’s romantic to stare up a woman’s collarbone or something?”
“I can’t help it if I’m shorter than everyone else,” Gawen stuttered. “And you’re one to talk. He‘s what, a head taller than you?”
“What?” Jada exclaimed. “I told you, I have no interest in him, he’s just nice to look at!”
“What’s all this about?” Stefus asked, amused. “You never use prepositions at the end of a sentence, normally.”
“Nothing,” they both said quickly.
“You are dense, aren’t you?” Gawen laughed. “Unless, of course, you play the fool.”
“Oh, you’re a fine one to insult his intelligence, seeing as you didn’t even know that the lady in Sir Norbert’s room was a puppet until you tried to flirt with it.”
“Well,” Gawen said tartly, “I’d better be off to the urchin quarters. You hear the best stuff in the morning, and I want to be awake to hear it.”
“Coward!” she called at his retreating back, then giggled.
“What’s so funny?” Stefus asked as he helped her up.
“I think he’s finally hit puberty,” she laughed. “My little urchin is growing up.”
“You have, too.”
“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, indignant.
“Just that you’re somewhat different than you were when you left Folona.”
“Well, you are, too.” She smiled. “You, however, have passed the rather awkward stage Gawen is experiencing. He is starting to notice women, but he has not learned how to deal with his attraction for them.”
“Ah, I remember that stage well,” Stefus chuckled. “I did some stupid things.”
“The puppet incident in question is but a sampling of Gawen’s new adventures.” She creased her brow thoughtfully. “It does lead me to wonder, however, why on D’nal Sir Norbert has such a realistic puppet of a woman in his room in the first place.”
“I still can’t believe you adopted Gawen,” he mused as she threw her cloak over her shoulders and they started to walk back. “He’s not that much younger than you.”
“The age gap was more pronounced when we were younger, and I needed to pass the craft to someone. The future didn’t look very promising then.”
“How about now?”
“It’s-- it’s hard to tell,” she answered thoughtfully. “On one hand, I can see a future in this disguise, living out my days--” she quickly cut off the sentence, as though there was something left, then continued before he could comment. “On the other hand, I see my plan unfolding and maybe making a difference worth those days it would cost me.” She shuddered. “It’s so tempting, so very tempting, to take the first.”
He looked at her intently. “Will you tell me what your plan is? Maybe there‘s a way for both to work, and you‘re probably going to need my help either way.”
“So true,” she smiled, and noted that they were now emerging from the woods. The stars were reflected in the lake, which glistened in the moonlight. “I hate to admit it, but I do need your help.”
“How ironic.”
Noting the nightlife, roaming the streets, Jada changed the subject. “In all the time I’ve seen you with that falcon, you never told me her name.”
He laughed. “I named her Shalisda, because of how fierce she is. I suppose you like that name, don’t you?”
“I find it interesting that you would name a bird after the woman who gave us the right to be counted as people.”
“I’m not Tartath, you know,” Stefus replied. “I believe lots of the problems we see today could be solved if men would listen to women. My parth taught me that.”
“Thanks for listening to me.”
“Believe me, I’ve probably gotten more out of it than you have.” He waited until the cabin door was safely shut behind him. As Shalisda fluttered to her perch, he said, “Now tell me about your plan.”
She motioned him to come to her room and pull up a cushion as she set the scarsh fire down on her table. She set out a script titled The Immortals, some drawings, and some notes.
“You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you?” He perused the script. “So that’s why you wanted to teach me how to fly--that is your intent, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “As you see in the script, you don’t need to be able to do it particularly well, you just need to be able to do it while singing.”
“I’m not the greatest singer.”
“As you see by the script, you don’t need to be particularly good at that, either; you just need to be heard well enough to be understood.”
“It’s a good play.” He continued to rifle through the pages. “How am I supposed to survive that scene, by the way? You’ve got me next to live dishas.”
“I will protect you,” she answered, then blushed. “Only if you are comfortable with that, of course,” she quickly added.
“No, it’s fine,” he replied. “Are you sure you have the skills to do so? I remember all the burns you used to get on your hands just from launching them.”
“I could not protect myself then because I was still learning the craft and did not know the effects they had on the body.“ She held out her hands for him to see. There were still reddish patches of damaged skin. “I now know the full effects of the dishas and, consequently, how to deal with them.”
“Well, that’s some role reversal for you,” he remarked. “You know, this is enough to give the entire cast a life-long sentence in Jegundo at best, execution at worst. At the very least, it will be banned, Sir Norbert will be stripped of his powers, and I will be put in prison. You-- if you never revealed your true identity and they were thick enough not to see it, you would be able to live, though probably not pleasantly.”
“Not if I follow the rest of the plan--the unscripted plan.” Her face was pallid now. “That part isn’t in writing anywhere, but it could probably be guessed by my set designs.”
He scanned the drawings of the sets. “These are amazing. You intend to craft the glass yourself?” She nodded. “So, if this is in the main Hall, then in this last scene, all the entrances and exits are blocked except for this one stage door, which will have a disha under the threshold.” He looked gravely at her. “I thought you didn’t approve of your brother’s tactics.”
“Done right, no one will be hurt,” she explained. “One just needs a distraction sufficient to give the cast members time to escape before setting it off. Theoretically, it only takes one person to do that.”
“One person. . .” he trailed off, then looked up at her. “You.”
“Exactly,” she sighed. “Of course, it endangers a good deal of other people, but if they go into the Rashdan tunnel system and retreat to Folona, they will never be found by the Jegundo guards. Of course, they will be fugitives for the rest of their lives, but I bet that Alaviel would be willing to let them live secretly in Manicolus, which wouldn’t be too bad. Failing that, there’s always Renni.”
Renni was the ancient refuge of all nations, the city buried deep in the ground below the Rashdan desert, heated by the light of the inner core of the planet of D’nal. It was from Renni that the first people broke the surface and saw the light of the sun, spreading out on the face of the planet to form their various civilizations. The Rashdans had stayed at this site while the others left the desert, and Folona was built upon the ruins of the old city of Renni. In Renni was the ancient race with whom only the Rashdans maintained contact. It was the people of this ancient race who made the Rashdan pendants, who kept the vast libraries whose shelves contained not books, but the ashes of centuries of people, whose deep wisdom and penetrating thought had caused reverence from the Rashdans and fear from the other races of men.
“Renni?” He arched an eyebrow. “This all depends on going through Folona. What about the Riya Dru? I’m sure they won’t take kindly to a group of refugees coming through.”
“Renni can be reached a variety of ways, and technically, if you never break the sand, you’re not in Folona.”
“Still. . .” he paused. “The use of the tunnel system alone could be the cause for disownment.”
“In my case,” Jada said sarcastically, “it doesn’t matter. As for you, your mother’s position on the Council is enough to protect you. However,” she softened, “I understand that this plan relies heavily on you. I am willing to scrap it and wait until Gawen is old enough to fill the role if I must. He and I have nothing to lose. You are still a part of a family, and even Tartath seems to continue to hold some respect for you. I cannot ask you to do this--” she broke down as a single tear cut a glimmering path down her cheek.
He was stunned. “Jada--” he stopped to collect his thoughts, then began again. She so rarely cried, it was an off-putting sight to him. “I made an oath to Lr A’dl to protect you, and if this is what it means, I will do it.” He breathed heavily. “All things considered, you’ve given me a fairly safe road. Even so, I am not sure if I can take it. Jada, what about staying in this disguise? You could continue to teach the class in the woods and perhaps, in time, Terpsichore could carry out your plan or Alaviel will reveal herself, which would shake things up a bit.”
She shuddered. “It’s so tempting, so very tempting, especially when you give me that rare joy of hearing my real name, not Sarepta or Keri. Unfortunately, Alaviel has too many political interests to protect. Her position is very uncertain. When it comes to Terpsichore, I just cannot do it. I cannot let someone else do something that is my responsibility.”
“Why is it your responsibility?”
“Natas, eva ne!” she cried. “Have I not told you what I have seen, what I have heard with my own ears? I was doomed to it long ago, the moment I retreated to the tunnels with my cousin. Were I wise then, I would have poured my strength into him to give him more years. I did not, and I am paying for it.”
Stefus frowned. “He was not nearly as skilled as you in the art of disguise. He would not have survived afterward, and none of the change you have done here would have happened.”
“Even so,” Jada said, “I cannot sit back and let anyone else take this. After all, it’s me Jegundo has wanted all this time; they will feel quite gratified to capture me. My case will nicely distract them from pursuing everyone else. You can’t find a more perfect distraction.”
“Perfect?” Stefus exclaimed. “I don’t want--” he broke off the sentence quickly. “I mean, you’re the last of your tribe. You have a duty to keep the craft alive.”
“This is more important,” she said dryly. “The craft of the Erif Drathil is nothing that my notes cannot explain with some help from Gawen. The craft is a cold, lifeless thing, and there’s nothing about the Erif Drathil name worth keeping. These people are living, breathing souls under Lr A’dl and deserve better. I’m sure you and Gawen can carry on the craft, maybe even absorb it into the Astul Lethya craft.”
He was speechless. They stared at each other for a moment, the silence ringing loudly in their ears. “Very well,” he said finally, with some difficulty. “In the name of Lr A’dl, it must be so.”
“Thank you, Stefus,” she replied gratefully as he reached over and wiped the silvery tear from her cheek. Then, she collected herself once more. “You know what this means?”
“What?”
“We have work to do, and lots of it.” Her lips twisted slowly into a wry, insane smile. “Sir Norbert’s going to get his money’s worth out of us.”

Sand Ch. 8: Darkness

The next week was a nightmare for Lady Kessil. She had officially pronounced Jada dead and, by the orders of the High Court, held onto the body until they could send an investigator. Consequently, she had been forced to leave Jada with Stefus while she went about her regular duties in the infirmary and among the private quarters of the nobles. Jada had become naturally conscious a day ago which, although it meant less demand on Kessil’s healing skills, meant that she, Stefus, and the rest had to exercise much more care.
Kessil felt grateful now more than ever that Sir Niclin had granted her requests to expand the infirmary, adding private examination rooms instead of just the former endless rows of beds. It would have been impossible to keep up the deception with the former layout of the infirmary. More people showed up at the infirmary than ever, not to be treated, but to see if the rumors that the last Erif Drathil had died were true. Kessil’s keeping Jada under lock and key with a jengda guard seemed a very natural thing to do for such a high-profile patient. It was obvious even to Sir Niclin, who usually bowed easily to his wife’s whims, that the presence of Jada’s body should not distract from the usual routine of the castle.
Kessil sighed as she turned the corner and entered the dining hall. It was not as opulent as the Great Hall, which was still under repair from the fight, but it was a nicely-appointed room. Usually Lady Kessil preferred to eat in her private quarters next to the infirmary in case an emergency came up, but her presence had been specifically requested here by a note signed with a name she did not recognized; she assumed it was the investigator from the High Court.
She looked around and saw Eirana sitting at a table, eating with Sir Ziro. How she wished that she could join them and enjoy their company. Instead, she moved to where Sir Norbert, who was also an unusual sight in the dining hall, and a man she did not recognize sat at a table. It as clear that this was the investigator from the High Court, and that he wished her to join them.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance at last,” the man smiled as she took a seat and a jengda served them tea. “Your healing skills are legendary. I have already had the honor of meeting your gifted magician here.”
“You flatter me. May I ask who I have the pleasure of addressing?”
“I am Tartath Riya Dru. I was sent here by Sir Shath of the High Court; usually he would come here himself, but other matters keep him in Jegundo for the time being. He wanted me to look into certain rumors that you have the body of Jada Erif Drathil here.”
“Interesting name for a High Court investigator. Are you, by any chance, of the Riya Dru tribe?” Sir Norbert could usually pick out anyone by their accent from his knowledge of linguistics.
Tartath Riya Dru laughed. “I am, in fact, Rashdan. I know that it is strange for a Rashdan to work for the High Court, but I have a personal interest in this case, and Sir Shath was more than eager for my help.”
Kessil glanced at Norbert.
“What sort of personal interest?” Sir Norbert asked.
“Let’s just say that Jada and I used to know each other fairly well,” he said evasively. He stared off into the distance, then snapped his eyes back into focus. “Now, where are you keeping the body?”
“In an examination room in the infirmary. You may see it when you wish.”
“Right away.”
“Of course,” Lady Kessil replied, mind reeling. She finished her tea and stood. Tartath and Sir Norbert did the same.
“It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Norbert; so it’s thirty five daikka for room and board?”
“Yes, if you intend to stay the night. That package includes live entertainment and use of the card parlors.”
“I’m looking forward to it. I hear that you have the best place to stay in Delixia.”
Sir Norbert thanked them and left, obviously anxious to make sure that the lunch crowd at his pub was comfortable. He temporarily had Gawen taking over Jada’s act, doing comedy and juggling instead of dancing. It did not have the same draw as Jada had, but it was better than nothing.
Lady Kessil took Tartath to the infirmary and gave the coded knock she, Stefus, and Jada had agreed upon beforehand. There was a rustling of keys, and the door swung open as Stefus opened his mouth to invite them in. He seemed, however, to suddenly lose his tongue. “Tartath?”
“Stefus?”
Obviously, they knew each other.
“What on D’nal are you doing here, dressed like a jengda nonetheless?” Tartath asked, incredulous. “I haven’t heard from you in quite a few years now.”
“My mayda thought I could profit from a broader education,” Stefus shrugged.
“Sounds like something she would do. She mentioned something about you being away at the University, but I never thought like this.”
Kessil was stunned. What were the odds?
Tartath turned to where Jada lay. He took her pulse and could find none. He put his hand over her forehead and asked, “What was the cause of death?”
“She bled to death from her wounds. Surely you heard about the fight. I’ve cleaned them up since, as you can see, and magically cleaned her clothing; otherwise, it would have been a rather unpleasant smell here. I sealed the body to stop the decomposition.”
“She definitely has no magic signature,” he said as he moved his hand from her forehead. “Is she still wearing all of the clothing from the time of death?”
“Yes, but it’s been cleaned.”
He reached down and read Jada’s pendant. It was unmistakable. “Well, the rumors were correct for a change. Jada is dead.” He continued to search her.
Kessil wondered what he was searching for. Surely the pendant was identity enough, was it not? The longer he stayed, the harder it would be for Jada to keep up her act. If she held it too long, it would become reality. He didn’t seem to find what he was looking for, however, and he leaned back and sighed. “I guess I have to clear her for burial. May I have her ashes to take to Folona?”
“Her ashes, Tartath?” Kessil quirked an eyebrow.
“She always said that she would prefer cremation,” he explained. “She said that it fit the work of her tribe. A beautiful work; it always filled the sky with light.” He leaned down and looked closely at Jada’s supine form. Too closely, Stefus thought.
“We do not practice this in Delixia,” Lady Kessil said quickly. “We bury the body in the ground.”
“Very well, then. May I witness the burial?”
“Certainly. It will be done tomorrow morning, at dawn.”
“At dawn,” Tartath repeated, looking down at Jada.
He quietly rose and left. As soon as the door was shut again, Stefus moved over to where Jada lay and put his hand on her head. Jada blinked her eyes and slowly rose, rubbing her temples. “What a headache,” she moaned. “Did he buy it?”
Lady Kessil and Stefus were silent for a moment.
It was Stefus who finally spoke. “Tartath was the investigator.”
“What?” Jada was shocked.
“He did seem to buy it,” Lady Kessil said quickly. “How do you all know each other?”
Jada blanched. “He used to court me, but I turned him down.”
Stefus added, “We were in the same class at the Rashdan school in Folona.”
Lady Kessil stood agape. The entire situation gave her the chills. Finally, she said, “Tomorrow morning at dawn we bury you. How do you intend to survive on such little oxygen?”
Jada shivered. “The same thing I do to hide my magical signature actually causes me to be dead for that amount of time. All physical signs of life, including breathing, disappear. My body survives on the magic I’ve transferred to my identification pendant. If it were to be removed from me, I would die. Fortunately,” her tone brightened, “it is an ancient Rashdan custom that the pendant must be worn from the time of birth to the grave; it cannot be removed for any reason, not even death. To have the pendant removed is to be entirely cut off from the Rashdan people, and it is the greatest insult imaginable to remove it after a person’s death. It is burned with the body at cremation.”
“You’re not being cremated.”
“Still, not even Tartath would stoop to such an insult. It is the greatest shame known to our people, and not even Tartath’s hatred for me would cause him to do this.” Jada’s words sounded braver than she felt. What if the Council had sent him to do this?
“He actually seemed quite fond of you still,” Stefus informed her.
“That is a possibility,” Jada thought about it. “It would be good if it were true, for then he would have the respect to leave me alone. It’s a risk, but one I’m willing to take.”
“So, you’ll die if the pendant is removed?” Kessil was anxious.
“Yes,” Jada replied. “Also, what I store there, because I am not in the best of condition right now, will only last for about twelve hours. After that, I will lose my ability to wake up; I will die.”
“That means that I will be digging you up around sunset.” Stefus frowned. “There’s so much that could go wrong with this.”
Jada took a deep breath and sighed. “I know. But it is the cost of freedom.”
Freedom, Lady Kessil thought. The one thing she doesn’t have. Maybe we can all be free someday. If she can break out, so can I.
“Very well,” she said out loud, and returned to the infirmary; there were many things to do yet today, and from the looks on her friends’ faces, they needed some privacy.

“Evening, Tartath; what can I do for you?” Sir Norbert looked up from his accounting in a corner of his pub as the Rashdan entered and pulled out a chair for him.
“You have a nice place here,” Tartath commented as he sat down. “I just have a few questions for you, and then I’ll continue enjoying the comforts of your establishment.”
Sir Norbert frowned. His establishment did not offer the same sorts of comforts a man like Tartath would enjoy, and questions were generally a bad thing.
“There’s only a handful of magicians on the planet as talented as you, but you employed Jada anyway. Why? Surely you could sense who she was.”
Sir Norbert raised a glass of tea to the light to check it for poison. Even in his own pub, he was paranoid about such things. “I do not concern myself with politics,” he said carelessly. “I did not desire my job at the University. I’m a scholar, not a teacher; there is a difference. To make up for the job I hate so much, I run this establishment. I enjoy competing with Lady Judith. I know good entertainment when I see it, and what better entertainment than a fully trained Rashdan performer? I would have turned her in eventually; I do not want trouble. Nothing makes a place fill up like speculation. Her unfortunate demise has turned me quite a profit.”
Looking around the room, it was obvious; the place was teeming with people not so interested in the food, the cards, or even Gawen’s entertainment, but very interested indeed in seeing the place a dangerous criminal advertised.
“Excellent point,” Tartath replied.
“You Rashdans have a definite talent for attracting attention,” Sir Norbert looked over the rim of his glass at him. “Jada may have been a criminal, but she was excellent entertainment. Now that she is gone, I’m going to have to work hard to find someone that good.”
“That is a hard act to top; I worked with her once,” Tartath said. “It was interesting.”
“No surprise,” Sir Norbert intoned as he returned to his books.
“I’m not going to report you, but may it be known that if you ever attempt this sort of publicity stunt again, you could find yourself without a pub, a classroom, or anything to call your own except a cold, dark cell in Jegundo.” Surprisingly, his tone was not threatening. He even smiled. “I like you, professor; I do not want this to happen. I can relate to your dissatisfaction with the job you’ve been given. Maybe I’ll come back and stay here again sometime when you have a new performer here.”
“My pleasure,” Sir Norbert said, not looking up from his books. As Tartath proceeded towards the bar to assail a rather large mug of beer, he privately thought, My pleasure to see you writhing on the floor in agony someday. He amused himself with the thought for a moment--it would be so easy to do, as he prided himself on being a master bartender as well as a card player, but that would not be good for the establishment. Employee deaths are interesting; patron deaths are bad for business.

“We have holes drilled into the outside of the coffin so you can breathe as long as we’re on the surface,” Stefus told Jada as she settled down into the rough wooden box.
“How considerate of you,” she replied glibly, shifting her weight around. “I believe it is appropriate even for a corpse to have a pillow or something,” she said.
“Of course,” Stefus pulled one down from the shelf. Lady Kessil had masterfully engineered the scheduling of the medical complex so that the mortuary would be empty for their use. She had convinced the mortician that she had plenty of experience embalming bodies as a medical student (she always prided herself on doing the jobs no one else desired, as it earned her more freedom from her supervisors), and promised that she would take care of it herself, with the aid of a jengda--Stefus.
He slid the pillow under her head. “That’s better,” she thanked him. “An unfortunate side affect of having such a long neck.”
Stefus knew she must be nervous indeed to be speaking in sentence fragments.
“Will you be all right down there?” He asked, concerned. So much could go wrong…
“Just don’t be late, all right? I asked you to do it because I know you actually tend to be on time to things. If you’re late, I’m staying here.”
Stefus chuckled weakly. “I’ll be early if I can. Good thing you don’t have claustrophobia.”
She smiled for the first time since the Festival. “I always enjoyed exploring the parts of the tunnel system that haven’t been renovated. There’s something I like about the dark, enclosed spaces--I feel safe there, so deep in the ground.”
“Then you’ll feel very safe today.” He paused. “When we were dancing at the Festival, you asked me a question. Do you remember what it was?” He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this, but he had to, in case something went wrong. Maybe he wouldn’t tell the whole truth, but he would tell some of it.
“Why do you stay?” She gave him a searching look.
Bashkt, why did she remember? Why was he doing this? “I stay because you are my friend.” He wondered how much she would read into his tone, his expression, and he pointedly looked away from her because he knew she was a master at reading his eyes. “You have opened my eyes. If something goes wrong today--”
“It won’t,” she interrupted, but said no more.
“I see the work you’re doing in the forest, and I don’t want it to stop. I’ll carry it on.”
“Thank you,” she sighed in relief. She reached up her hand and turned his face towards hers. Her hand felt cool against his cheek. He was ever more conscious of how warm he felt. “Believe it or not, I am afraid.”
“I would be, too.” He was amazed, however, that she would admit such a thing to him.
“Not for myself, but for the Council of Oak Rock Forest. You give me comfort.”
He felt his cheek grow warmer. Presently, he heard Tartath greet Lady Kessil outside the door of the mortuary. “Lr A’dl dih rah yae,” he said quickly.
“Sih rah yae.”
She closed her eyes, and he could see her systematically relax her muscles into the appearance of death. She was very convincing, with the scars across her face and the unbandaged wounds on her shoulder, gleaming as red as the dress she still wore in the lamplight. She did not wear the bandages, for it would have destroyed the deception. He knew that this caused her great pain.
The door opened, and Tartath and Lady Kessil stepped in. “Before we proceed,” Tartath said after they exchanged proper greetings, “I need to make a rubbing of her identification pendant for Sir Shath in Tre-revaj. He has an interest in Erif Drathil design.”
Stefus blinked as Tartath moved to take the pendant off Jada’s neck. “Can’t you do it without taking it off? You know our customs.”
“Of course,” Tartath slowly let the chain fall from his hands as he took out a sheet of parchment and placed it over the pendant, rubbing a block of charcoal over it to capture the design. “I know that you and she were friends. I’m sorry.”
“As were you,” Stefus added, feeling relieved about the pendant. “I understand that you and Jada were quite close.”
Tartath sighed. “We were. I would have married her, but she would have nothing of it. She wanted to wait to grow wiser. I would have waited for her, but then her brother started stirring up trouble. I’m afraid I became somewhat angry with her, but it was not her fault. Maybe the Council would have pardoned her and given her sanctuary if she had stayed in Folona.”
Stefus didn’t buy this. He and Tartath had been friends in school, and he knew that Tartath didn’t like to wait for anything. Also, it was Tartath’s father who had attacked Jada the night she left Folona, and he highly doubted that things could have gotten much better if she had stayed.
Tartath finished the rubbing and Stefus carefully shut the heavy lid of the coffin. He and Lady Kessil moved to carry it, but Tartath exclaimed, “A lady carrying a coffin? It is not right. Let me take that for you, Lady Kessil.”
It was, indeed, one of the oddest experiences of Stefus’s life, carrying a coffin with his old school friend Tartath that contained a very much alive Jada. Fortunately, the graveyard was not far away, nestled next to the castle wall, for it had been added by the Tre-revaj invaders a century ago. The Rashdans who had built and used the University beforehand believed in cremating the dead and taking the ashes to Folona to go in the great crypts there with their ancestors. Thus, they had no need for graveyards. Of course, many Rashdans had been scattered or buried outside Folona out of necessity, but it was outside of custom.
The sky was filled with orange light, and the ground was soft. Stefus was glad that someone had already dug the grave--actually, it was customary to leave a grave open in the jengda section, as the need for it often came up unexpectedly. Unlike the massive gilded monuments built to the rich in the section for nobles, there were very few markers here, and if there were, they were crudely carved out of wood or clumsily scratched in a stone from the forest. With ropes Stefus and Tartath lowered the coffin into the grave.
As Stefus reached for a shovel, Tartath said, “What about the words of burial?”
“Very well,” Stefus put the shovel down, wondering why he had forgotten something so important. He prayed that Lr A’dl would forgive him for using the ritual words for one who was not dead.
“By Lr A’dl are we made;
To Lr A’dl we return.
May memory never fade
Although our bodies burn.
May the dead be spoken for
As we remember evermore.”
“I speak as a friend of Jada,” Tartath intoned. “She was beautiful and powerful, strong and weak. The deeds of her kin and the law of the land betrayed her. May she not be sentenced by them. So do I speak before Lr A’dl.”
“I speak as a friend of Jada,” Kessil obviously felt odd using Rashdan customs, but she caught on quickly. “She defended the weak though she was, also. So do I speak before Lr A’dl.”
“I speak as a friend of Jada,” Stefus’s mind was racing. What could he say in Tartath’s presence? He knew that Jada was listening. What a strange situation. “She was wise in the ways of the human mind. She understood that which puzzled me. So do I speak before Lr A’dl.”
Stefus and Tartath chanted together,
“By Lr A’dl are we made;
To Lr A’dl we return.”
Then, silently, Stefus picked up the shovel and began to cover her grave with the soil. Kessil slowly turned and left; she had duties in the infirmary. The University was starting to stir with activity, and as the nobles who stayed in private residences on the lake emerged from the trail through the forest, they looked with mild curiosity at the two Rashdans standing there.
Tartath did not leave. He had an unreadable expression on his face that gave Stefus the chills. Finally, he said, “Stefus, it’s been years--where are you working these days?”
“I work at the Red Dragon; Sir Norbert has given me the day off.”
“The Red Dragon? I’m staying there,” Tartath seemed pleased. “Your mother does know how to give you a good education; it’s a fine establishment. What do you do there?”
“I’m an entertainer. Sir Norbert had me working with Jada.”
“Bashkt, you’ve changed since the old school days.”
“Maybe a little,” Stefus smiled. Tartath really had no idea.
“Are you still as good with chrys knives?”
“Maybe,” Stefus said slowly. “You were always better than me. You know my strength lies in archery, the craft of my tribe.”
“I’ll help you with that, and we can spar like old times. What do you say to that?” Stefus looked up and could tell that this was genuinely Tartath’s escapist partying attitude.
“Sure,” Stefus answered. “I need some breakfast, though. I haven’t eaten.”
“Neither have I,” Tartath grinned. “Why don’t I treat you to some? We can catch up over a good meal and maybe play a few hands of cards with Sir Norbert--I’ve grown to like him.”
Stefus shrugged the affirmative, inwardly rejoicing at the chance to have Sir Norbert read Tartath’s surface thoughts--the longer they spent with Sir Norbert, the more information they could receive about what Tartath had been up to all this time.

The morning passed swiftly with a lavish breakfast and endless hands of cards. Tartath didn’t seem to care if he won or lost, he just played, and he seemed more than eager to keep both Stefus and Sir Norbert in his presence at all times. The lunch crowd was starting to pour in by the time Tartath showed even the slightest trace of boredom with the cards.
“I say, you have some beautiful women going to this university,” he sighed as he watched some beginning healer women sit down at a table nearby, discussing antidotes for food poisoning. “Is there a woman in your life, Stefus? I don’t know how you could avoid finding one here.”
Stefus laughed out loud. “You know me. You were always the one trying to get me to improve my skills with the ladies, though I think that my mother’s lessons in manners worked better than your hints. Besides, I don’t have time for it.”
“Time for what? It’s not like you need to marry one, just have fun with her.” Tartath grinned. “Watch this.”
“Famous last words!” Stefus chided as he saw that the woman he was headed towards was Alaviel, who was sitting at a table alone--a very bad choice indeed. He watched as Alaviel listened with a strained smile to whatever Tartath was saying, then gave some sort of reply that caused Tartath to bow politely and walk away. “How did it go?”
“Tough broad,” Tartath said brightly. “Didn’t slap me, though.”
“She can’t; she’s a jengda. Jengda get beaten for things like that.”
Tartath looked unconcerned.
“So what about that knife match?”
“We could have it here, if Sir Norbert would allow,” Stefus glanced over at Norbert. Aside from having an aversion to the practice halls in the castle, here there would be plenty of witnesses in the event of foul play.
“On the stage,” Sir Norbert approved. It was the sort of dramatic act that he liked.
“All right, then. Three bouts, first contact wins?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Sir Norbert announced it, and conversation in the room hushed as they looked up to watch the rare spectacle. Stefus smiled, thinking of what an everyday occurrence this would be in Folona. “I’m a little out of shape,” he warned as he bowed. “I have not had occasion to practice recently.” Recently meaning the last week, since he usually practiced against Jada so that they could both keep their skills up. But he wasn’t going to tell Tartath that.
“I haven’t either, so we’re square.”
They both fell into a rhythmic trance as they focused on blocking and attacking. Blow for blow, block for block, the metal always clashed on metal. Of course, Stefus hadn’t pulled out his latest trick that Jada had been so kind to teach him last week. . . He’d had nothing better to do but to practice it while she was unconscious. He would not pull it out until he needed it. Instead, the pace of the fight accelerated, and the blades moved faster and faster. Finally, Tartath won by sliding the flat of his blade down Stefus’s arm from a block.
Stefus laughed. “Okay, you win. Do you remember what the weapons teacher used to say when you pulled that trick?”
“A cheap ploy that does not work in battle? I remember it well.”
They bowed to each other again, and this time Stefus let Tartath believe he was tiring for a while until, in a flash, Stefus dove for Tartath’s legs and tapped his left boot with the flat of the knife.
“Weird move,” Tartath frowned. “Where did you learn it?”
“A woman taught me.“ Stefus shrugged, thinking back to the memorable practice when he thought he was beating Jada and even had her in a blade lock when she had let go of her blades, dropped to the floor, slid between his legs, and caught her blades as she recaptured her footing, standing up to hold the point of the blade between his shoulder blades. His use of her trick had been less practical, but it had worked.
“A woman?” Tartath egged him. “You sly dog, you can’t lie to me.”
There was laughter and applause, and they bowed to each other for the third time. Stefus let this one last a particularly long time, and he could sense the crowd growing more and more anxious as he played up impressions of exhaustion. At the last minute, however, he rose into the air, tapped his blade on the top of Tartath’s head, and landed smoothly to tumultuous applause.
“Impressive,” Tartath exclaimed. “Did she teach you that, too?”
“Who?”
“The woman, of course.” Tartath’s eyes twinkled as they sat down once more at their table. “She really must be something.”
“Are you kidding me?” Stefus poured himself some more tea. “That was a joke.”
“Then where did you learn how to do that?” Tartath looked pointedly at him.
Fortunately, Sir Norbert cut in at that moment. “Great job, both of you! I should’ve had you and Jada do that alongside the dancing.”
“Jada, eh?” Tartath’s eyes narrowed. “So that’s the woman. You must’ve known it was her all along. Why else would you be here? Bashkt, I knew it was someone, but I never thought it would be you.”
“What are you talking about?” Stefus frowned.
“Why she turned me down, of course.” His eyes softened. “Not that it matters any more. You seem clueless enough, and she’s dead now, so what does it matter?” As a waiter passed by, Tartath flagged him down. “Beer, please.”
Stefus looked down into his tea. “Just so you know, I did not know that it was her until she started working here, and that was only two weeks ago. I had no idea what happened to her in the years between then and when she left Folona. It could not have been me by a long shot.”
“It doesn’t matter any more.” Tartath’s drink arrived. He looked at it for a moment, then raised it to the light. “Here’s to secrets!” He washed it down in one gulp, and he ordered more.
Stefus glanced over at Sir Norbert; he was massaging his temples absentmindedly, a subtle indicator that he was receiving some seriously strong signals, and he looked relieved that Tartath was finally starting to order alcohol; it would soften the pain in his skull. Stefus would have dearly loved to use the opportunity to leave; it was starting to be late afternoon, and he did not want to be late to his sunset appointment. As he began to rise, however, Tartath said, “No, don’t go; I could use your company. I’ve missed you. How about another few rounds of cards?”
Hesitantly, Stefus sat down again. “Just one more round. I have to be someplace at dusk.”
Unfortunately, after Stefus won the first round, Tartath requested another. And another. And another. Stefus glanced nervously out the window; the sky was still light, but the sun was starting to touch the treetops of Oak Rock Forest, sending rays of light out over the lake. “Listen, I have to go; I’ve really enjoyed this--”
“No problem; I’m always glad to see another Rashdan.” He was quite drunk now. “Sorry about what I said about you and Jada; you could not have learned those tricks in two weeks. Good luck with the woman.”
“There is no woman.”
“Of course not,” Tartath winked. “Lr A’dl dih rah yae.”
“Sih rah yae.”
Stefus quickly picked up his cloak and left the pub, hoping he would meet no one on the path. Unfortunately, as he was walking through the woods, Terpsichore and Navira accosted him. “We’ve been looking for you all day. When are you going to explain what’s going on?”
“Tomorrow night!”
“We need to know.”
“Tomorrow night!”
“People are saying that Jada’s dead--is it true?”
“You’ll find out about it tomorrow night.”
They hounded him, even when he started walking as the sky turned gold, then orange. It was already a dark shade of purple as they finally left him and he lit a scarsh fire to hide him as he dug. It had been a sunny day, so the ground had dried, making it harder to dig. The sky was pitch black now, and the stars were out. He started to panic, but forced himself to keep digging. The lights were already on in the castle as he finally cleared the dirt off of the coffin and frantically opened the lid.
She looked so pale in the faint light of the castle windows, so still. There was no color in her cheeks. As he put his hand on her head to wake her up, he sensed nothing. He concentrated his effort, actually pouring energy into her, but nothing happened. She just continued to lay there, still in the starlight. He was too late. Perhaps her wounds had become infected, perhaps she had run out of power--it was impossible for him to tell.
“Don’t be dead,” he murmured. “I went through this once, I don’t want it to be real this time. We need you. Don’t be dead.”
But there was no response. She was so cold. He dug deep within himself and prayed to Lr A’dl as he had never prayed before, but still there was no response.
“Why?” he asked the starry sky, his face turned toward it. “Why wipe out the last of a good family--why take her? Why take her brother? Am I next?”
“I don’t think so.”
“How do you know?” he asked.
“I’m still here.”
He whirled around. “Jada!” he whispered hoarsely. “I thought I’d lost you there.”
She was still lying down, obviously too weak to move. Even so, she smiled; it was apparent that all the strength she had regained in the last week had fled from her. He took her in his arms and lifted her out of the grave, setting her down on the hard ground. Her eyes filled with tears as she breathed in the fresh air while he refilled the grave.
“Can you walk?”
“I-I think so.”
She slowly tried to stand up, but she stumbled and fell. Stefus caught her. He opened a flask from his hip pouch. “It’s dentra. It’ll help you.”
She drank it in deeply. “Thanks,” she said weakly.
“No problem.” He held out his arm to offer support, and for the first time he could remember, she took it willingly as they made their way to the small cabin provided for them next to the Red Dragon. As he lay her down on her sleeping mat in her own room separate from his (Eirana and Kessil had conceded on that point, though they thought that it would be safer if they stayed in the same room), he said, “Lr A’dl dih rah yae.”
“Sih rah yae.” As she said this, however, she did something unusual--she slowly sat up and kissed him on the cheek. Wordless, he turned and settled into his own room, sitting on his mat, staring at the covered cage of his falcon--there was too much to think about for dreams.

“That was one of the strangest funerals I’ve ever attended. I’d read about Rashdan funerals before, but I didn’t realize that they were so… brief.”
“Usually they aren’t, but there were only three of us there. Usually, anyone is allowed to come, and anyone, friend or enemy, is allowed to speak. You can often tell how much of a dent a Rashdan made on the world by how long their funeral lasts. I went to one that lasted two days once.”
“Interesting set of beliefs.”
“Will she be well enough to come to the Council tonight?”
Jada had foggy impressions of voices as she slowly woke up. She’d had the most terrible dream about being put in a coffin and buried alive, and Tartath had been there. . .
“It’s a miracle she made it out alive; the ground sucked most of the warmth out of her, and we’ve definitely taken a step backwards on what progress I have made on the wounds.”
Jada was suddenly aware of the soreness in her shoulder as the memories of the previous day returned to her. A small matter. Why shouldn’t she be able to go to the meeting?
“The Council is in panic. They think she’s dead. They need to be able to see that she’s alive.”
“I admire what you’re doing, but I think that you need to have more caution.”
“If we were any more cautious, we wouldn’t have a Council at all.”
“Listen, Stefus; you’ve been awake for how many hours? Don’t tell me you slept last night--the circles under your eyes betray you. If you’re not careful, you’ll wind up like her.”
“Gee, thanks,” Jada said sarcastically as she opened her eyes. She was lying on her sleeping mat with several of her blankets piled over her. Her rug, her table, and her soft cushions already lined the room. Stefus and Lady Kessil sat on two of her cushions, talking; bandages and a few bottles Jada recognized as belonging to Lady Kessil sat on her table, along with three bowls of what Jada recognized as Gawen’s specialty, gruel.
Both Stefus and Lady Kessil looked extremely tired as they shifted their gazes towards her. Stefus smiled, warmth showing through his eyes despite the dark circles starting to form underneath them. “Good morning. Gawen made us some breakfast before he went to work; I’m trying to talk Sir Norbert into letting him live here, too.”
“None of you would ever get any sleep, then,” Lady Kessil laughed. “How are you feeling this morning, Jada?”
“Well enough to go to the meeting tonight,” Jada shot back.
“I’ll determine that,” Kessil gave Jada a warning look. “Do I have to be mother for both of you? Jada, please be more specific. You know what I’m looking for.”
Jada tried to be honest. “I feel a little sore in the shoulder, but it’s not bad. I just feel a little cold, and a little weak; I could probably walk it off.” She sat up carefully, her arms shaking as she used them to support herself; even though it was obviously daytime, the room was lit by an oil lamp on her table. There were no windows.
“Well, no wonder you’re cold, seeing as you slept in your clothes,” Kessil exclaimed, eyeing the thin red and gold silk that made up Jada’s costume. “Why didn’t you remove them?”
“I didn’t think that Jada would appreciate it if I did that, and she was in no state to do so last night of her own accord,” Stefus stammered.
“Thank you, Stefus,” Jada chuckled.
“You should have come and gotten me, then!” Kessil was really flustered. “Jada, I want you to change into some warmer clothes as soon as possible, and I want both of you to get some rest today. Then, I guess I can’t prevent either of you from going to the meeting, but when you do, either use a scarsh fire or disguise yourself well, Jada. For all public purposes, you are dead as both Keri and Jada; you cannot be either of them in public again.”
Jada groaned. “That means I have to build a new identity from ground up, all over again. . . I thought I would be free from that.”
“Actually, Sir Norbert’s already decided for you,” Kessil informed her. “You only have to come up with your appearance, which I don’t think will be too hard for you to do.”
“Well, who in Bashkt’s name am I now?”
“Stefus’s wife.”
“What?”
“What?”
For the first time that morning Kessil’s face broke into a smile as she laughed--hard, the sound of it reverberating in the deathly silent room. Eventually, she calmed down and continued, grinning evilly. “Sir Norbert realized that there’s a market for Rashdan entertainment, and didn’t want to give either of you up as performers. Stefus, luckily enough, has failed to attract undue attention to his personal life as you have, Jada, and so it would make perfect sense for him to have been married all along and now, having a stable, well-paying job, finally bring his wife to live and work with him.”
“Why didn’t Sir Norbert tell me anything about this?” Stefus asked tersely, thinking of Tartath up at the pub.
Kessil shrugged. “He thought you had enough on your mind already. Anyway, Jada, your name is Sarepta, and you two met and got married in Clevia on some of Stefus‘s visits with Wylth. You were a librarian in the temple there--Wylth has generously procured the paperwork necessary, and since no one but Wylth ever goes down into the library, there‘s no one in Clevia who could refute this story. You have spent the last few years with Mikya Astul Lethya learning how to be a proper Rashdan.”
“I should have known my mother was in on this,” Stefus moaned.
“Didn’t I always tell you she meddled in things that were not her concern?” Jada added. “I guess it helps that I did actually do librarian work in Clevia back before I was a fugitive…”
“And I did come to visit you once or twice while you were there,” Stefus suddenly remembered. “Wylth must be as bad as my mother.”
“Did Eirana have a hand in this?” Jada demanded.
“Somewhat, yes,” Kessil replied, amused. “As a matter of fact, the three of us met together to act in your best interests. Now, I hope you don’t mind, but I have work to do today.”
“Sleep while you can!” Jada snapped at her as the door shut behind her.
There was an awkward pause as the two Rashdans were left in the room, suddenly having an entire marriage to fabricate out of thin air. It was a daunting task, and not a comfortable one.
“The food’s getting cold,” Stefus reminded her. “You need to eat if you want to go tonight.”
“Oh, so now you’re my ‘husband’ you can order me around?” she retorted, and quickly regretted it. This was not the right way to start it off.
“You know very well that it doesn’t matter what I say, you’ll continue to find ways to endanger yourself, starting now with hunger.”
No doubt about that. “I guess we’ll be quite convincing, then--married couples are almost always arguing about something.”
“Not all the time, and so far we’ve gotten along well enough. I don’t want this stupid disguise our friends set us up with to ruin it.”
“Neither do I,” Jada added truthfully. “Just friends, right?”
“Right,” Stefus answered.
They both sighed in relief.
“With that out of the way,” Jada said brightly after swallowing a deliciously large lump of oatmeal, “describe your dream woman.”
“What?” He looked genuinely puzzled.
“My appearance. I think it’s about time you had a say in it, seeing as you’re probably going to be the one to see it the most, and the disguise is no longer my own--it’s ours.”
“Well, I like redheads, but that’s your natural color. . .”
Jada grimaced. It was time she revealed the truth about that. “Actually, it’s not,” she confessed. “I started dyeing it when I was twelve. I wore the blonde wig until my natural color, which is what you see right now, grew out.”
“What?” He seemed to find the revelation quite entertaining. “All right, so what about black?”
“I look awful in it--my skin has too many red tones.”
“Fine. You’ve never been a brunette before, right?”
“Never; that should be fine.” She fumbled around on her table to find some paper, where she wrote a note down. “Eyes?”
He gave another puzzled look. “I really don’t think about that. Blue?”
“They’re already that color.”
“Really?” He squinted. “They look grey to me.”
“They change,” she shrugged. “They shift between grey, blue, and green.”
“That leaves brown, I guess.” He frowned. “This is bad. If I don’t even know basic facts about your appearance, what about when people start asking me questions about what kind of person you are?”
“Hey, it’s not like I’d have answers for them, either.” Jada knew that at this point, she probably knew Stefus fairly well, but she knew that she had kept a good deal of herself secret for the sake of her disguise. Suddenly, another truth hit her. An awkward one. “Do you know I’ve never kissed anyone?” she confessed.
He put his hand to his cheek.
“No, I kiss people there all the time--it’s a greeting, in one or two of the places I’ve been.”
He nodded in understanding, astonished. “Not even on stage? Not even. . . Tartath?”
“No, not even him. Stage kissing is just bumping cheekbones, remember? I don’t know if I can fake this!” She leaned against the wall, irritated. “I mean, even my parents, who did their own share of arguing, displayed physical affection occasionally in public. I guess we can avoid it as long as we don’t allow anyone to observe us too long.”
“We’re entertainers. We’re meant to be observed.” Jada could not exactly read his tone--it wasn’t bitter, as she thought it would be. She shrugged it off as he continued. “We dance enough on stage, though, and that should suffice.”
“Right!” Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.
“What about the questions?” Stefus asked nervously.
“Well, we’ll be spending enough time together anyway, it’s about time we sat down and really got to know each other.” Her own suggestion scared her, though she did not know why. Of all the people to trust with that information, Stefus would probably be the best.
“We do know each other.”
“Not well enough.” She looked up at him, noting once more the subtleties in his expression that betrayed his exhaustion. “I will not enter your mind without your permission--”
“About that,” Stefus cut in, “I’m sorry about doing that last week.”
“You had to,” she replied kindly. “I know you do not like mental communication. That is why I suggest that we spend one hour every day talking.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed. He looked more weary than ever.
“Go get some sleep for now, all right?” Jada smiled at him.
“Yes, Jada.”
“I do not want you collapsing, too.”
“Yes, Jada.”
“Will you stop saying that?” She frowned.
He gave her a wry grin as he got up and moved toward the door.
“Yes, Jada. Eventually, but at the moment, it works.”
Who was she to argue?