Sand Ch. 5: A Game of Cards

“There was before the time of Bashkt a king, Mentmac, who ruled over both Manicolus and Yaylithe, even a few of the Edarth Isles. He and his ancestors had set Yaylithe into its glory days of learning, trade, and prosperity. They had all treated our people well, and even foreign marriages were not uncommon. It was in these days that my ancestors first began to develop their dishas, and that the ancient tribe who could make book after book in quick succession without copying them by hand were at their full prosperity.
“However, this Golden Age was not bound to last. Sarzarad, the ruler of Tre-revaj, brought Mentmac to meet in friendship one evening in the Edarth Isles. Being a man who loved the entertainment, he accepted gladly.
“O, such feasting! Delights for the tongue you rarely see amongst any but nobles and Rashdans any more. Sarzarad’s kitchens were generous, indeed, but also were his wineries. Under Sarzarad’s urging, Metmac drank more and more of Sarzarad’s wines until he was uproariously drunk, a babbler of nonsense. This was exactly as Sarzarad had planned.
“They turned their attentions to the cards, a fairly new innovation in those days, and even placed bets. Sarzarad continued to serve more wine.
“Late in the evening, when Mentmac’s drunkenness was at its peak, Sarzarad put a new bet on the table: the Desca Isles. Yes; you heard me: the Desca Isles. Wanting to equal such a wager and not wanting to be seen as a coward, Mentmac matched him up with Yaylithe.
“The fates turned against Mentmac and he lost. He thought little of it and enjoyed the rest of the evening, so drunk he probably couldn’t tell the difference between Sarzarad and the chair he was sitting in. Finally, each withdrew to their own quarters, so as to be able to face the morning’s sail to their own countries with fresh vigor.
“In the morning, Sarzarad demanded his pay from the last night’s gamble. Mentmac, who had no recollection of it, inquired to his minister if such could be true. The minister confirmed that he had, indeed, done this evil deed.
“O, how Mentmac wept and cursed himself for his wickedness! However, being a man of his honor and not wishing to risk war with Tre-revaj, he reluctantly turned Yaylithe over to the rule of Jegundo’s High Court, the officials of Tre-revaj.
“As soon as Tre-revaj took over Yaylithe, they established a gripping rule. The University of Delixia, that in which we stand now, was closed to the commoners and remained open only to the nobles and high upper class. They placed their taxes, heavy taxes, upon the people. This lead to several uprisings, but they were all crushed and are hardly remembered today.
“When they heard of the Rashdans, travelers who dwelled in the desert when trade was low and lived by their own government, they were outraged. They were terrified by the fact that there was an entire government living within their borders, strong in numbers and well-trained if it came to an uprising, so they sent their entire army to comb the desert looking for our people.
“This was when the subterranean links to other lands, so ancient now, were fairly new, and they could not accommodate as many as they do now. Some tribes got away, but many were still trapped in Folona. The army found them, and led them in chains onto ships to help build their new prison complex.
“What of Mentmac? He wore black for the rest of his life and kept his visor down whenever he went out in public. Eventually it occurred to him to ask his minister why, when he was present and sober at the time of the wager, did not stay Mentmac’s hand from it?
“It turned out that the minister had been in on the plot all along, and had been richly rewarded for it. Mentmac swelled into a rage and had the minister executed, his wealth distributed amongst the poor. Ever since then his line has not only been granted with the responsibilities of the rule of Manicolus, but for the reconciliation of Mentmac’s loss as well.
“Now, “ she finished, “the story was stifled to protect them from rebellion, but as usual, the Rashdan entertainers they employed on the night of the card game spilled the whole story to my ancestors, or perhaps they were the entertainers: I can’t remember which. If they were, I am not in any way proud, and I would wish to help reconcile Mentmac’s line as well, for the entertainers could have stayed his had as well. They, as much as Mentmac and the minister, were the bane of Yaylithe.”
“Lr A’dl protect us,” Stefus muttered. “The pain, toil, and weariness of an entire nation for seven centuries all from a game of cards! I, for one, shall never gamble again. Not that I ever did,” he added quickly.
“And all this time I thought Yaylithe was conquered by the army that took the Rashdans,” Gawen exclaimed.
“That is the history as Tre-revaj tells it, for they can make up anything in a country with only one school,” Jada said. “They don’t want the people to know about the card game, for they fear an uprising. They are cowards, in a way; there is no rest for the wicked. The current queen of Manicolus, Veladne, has taken an unusual interest in Yaylithe, so we may just be in luck. If Alaviel is her spy, may Lr A’dl protect her and let her succeed in her findings!”
“Indeed,” murmured Stefus and Gawen. “Lr A’dl dih rah yae.”
“Sih rah yae!”
After they left, she poured herself a cup of mirkith. She knew it had vision-inducing properties, but wasn’t sure if she wanted to exploit them just then. She stared at it for a while, then muttered, “Lah. I need some help anyways.”
She drained it and went to sleep. As she had guessed, there was, indeed, a vision. what it meant, though, she could not tell:
She was standing alone on the stage at the front of the great hall, facing an audience that filled the entire room. She was speaking, saying something she did not yet understand. The audience got really upset about it, though they seemed to not want to show their agitation. Then, about eighty jengdas crowded the stage as she kept speaking. The audience lost its restraint and men in gray rushed towards her... her brother’s face suddenly loomed in front of her, his brown eyes wide. She reached out to touch it, to stroke his red hair, but his face shriveled before her as her own arms became inexplicably heavy, covered with bandages. She gasped as her body filled with pain. Sickly green flowers exploded before her eyes, and became fire. Alaviel, dressed in silks and gold, stretched out a hand to Jada, who took it. Stefus reached out for her other hand, which she also took. His normally jocular face was pained and searching. Her sight exploded with red and she suddenly woke up.
Her hands were shaking as she dressed herself and applied her pieces. Wonderful help that was, Lr A’dl, she thought angrily. Suddenly, she weakened and fell to the ground, crying. “So he’s dead for real! After all, who cares? He’s just another person. Another Rashdan out of thousands. There are hundreds of brothers in D’nal. But--” she swallowed hard--”he’s my brother. He protected me. Who will protect me now?”
I will, said a voice. I will guide you if you follow me.
“But I am weak,” said Jada, timid and scared. “Why would you want to protect me?”
You are my child and I will make you strong. If you choose to obey, I can help you free these people. You have seen a glimpse of what is to come if you decide to take this road. It will be difficult, but I will give you strength.
“So much pain...”
I won’t lie to you. You may die, and die terribly. You may loose everything you hold dear. But I promise you this: whatever may conspire on this world, you will find eternal rest.
Jada bit her lip. Who was she to deny the call of Lr A’dl? Already He had protected her and guided her through this time. The Book of the Prophets that stood open before her showed that He had guided others as well. But why would Lr A’dl ask her to suffer so much for a cause that was so obviously unachievable? He was asking her to get an entire nation, no civilization to change its mindset.
“If You can help me do it, I’ll do it,” she said firmly.

Sir Norbert sat with his elbows on his desk, head throbbing as he watched the last of his entry-level magic class file out. Why, he always asked himself, can’t people simply use their minds? So easy this was to him, so difficult for his class to comprehend!
He looked down at his curriculum, but found it to be of little use. He had written it himself, hoping that perhaps someone would learn it well enough to teach it instead of him so he could go back to doing what he enjoyed: playing cards and learning languages. But no, apparently he had the most brilliant mind the University had seen in a decade.
“Why me?”
“Sir?” asked the jengda who was cleaning up the broken glass of the bottles of water his students were supposed to have been pouring, using mental energy only, into glasses. Simple task, you just really need to want and believe that the bottle can tip into the glass. Unfortunately, his students seemed to lack the concentration and capacity to do this one, simple task.
“Did I say that out loud?” Sir Norbert smiled. He had seen this jengda in the back of his classes before. He knew, by his own means, that she actually wasn’t supposed to be there half the time and he probably should report her. He felt no need to do so, however. The times she spent in his classes were few and far between, and didn’t conflict with her other duties. He could sense that she was extremely intelligent, and was often the only person in the room who understood the subject matter other than himself.
“I understand,” she grinned, sweeping up more glass. “Must be really frustrating.”
“You have no idea, Keri,” Norbert sighed. “They should have hired a Rashdan to look over my notes and teach instead. They seem to be the only people who can understand. Whose jengda are you?” he asked suddenly, out of curiosity.
“The school’s.”
Even though Keri’s face showed no emotion, he could sense a flick of nervousness.
“Don’t worry,” he reassured. “I won’t tell anyone. I don’t concern myself with politics. I could have reported you a long time ago. I didn’t believe it to be right.” He paused, then continued. “But you knew that already. Why did you stick around instead of protecting your identity?”
She picked up her rag and the bucket of broken glass. “Because,” she said with a dangerous gleam in her eye, “you are completely wrong.”
With that, she left. Sir Norbert could see right through this bluff, but didn’t know what to make of it. There was no use trying to explain that to her; it would only make her more paranoid. Besides, he thought with a sigh, he had bigger things to deal with.

Jada, leaned against the wall in the cleaning supplies closet, sweating. She knew the professor had seen through her bluff; he was as perceiving as a Rashdan, if not more, when it came to the mind. The Erif Drathil were talented in magic, and would often incorporate it into their performances.
Never mind that, she thought. Just get through what was at hand right now. She needed to be down for Lady Eirana’s afternoon shift. She slowly took in five deep breaths and headed down to Eirana’s chambers. Much to her surprise, Stefus was there also.
“What’re you doing here?” she asked him, puzzled.
“You’d have a better idea than I would,” he said, just as confused. “Eirana told me to come here after my shift with Ziro.”
“I have brought you both here,” a rather frazzled voice came from behind them, “because I have noticed certain things.” It was Eirana. Jada and Stefus both heaved gigantic sighs of relief. Eirana fixed them with a piercing stare. Then she sat down in a chair and motioned for Jada and Stefus to do the same.
There was a minute of tension before Eirana broke the silence once more. “Jada,” she addressed to a shocked form, “I do know your name, and your history. I am ashamed to say that I procured it from you in a most dishonest manner, but know that your disguise is, for the time being, secure. What I want to know,” she smiled, “is who this fellow Tartath is?” She gestured towards Stefus.
The two of them blinked for a moment, then Stefus laughed out loud. Jada nudged him in the ribs and said, indignantly, “What have you been spewing at the alehouse?”
“Me?” He shrugged innocently. “I haven’t been going to the alehouse; my mayda told me not to.”
“Your mayda meddles in things that are not her concern,” Jada grumbled as the fascinated Eirana looked on.
“She only has your best interests in mind,” he grinned. “So you’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”
“So you admit you spilled the beans on Tartath!” Jada said triumphantly. “How dare you!”
“You’re not Tartath?” Eirana interrupted.
“No,” said Stefus. “Tartath was--”
“None of your business,” Jada grumbled. “Sorry, Lady, but I don’t think this concerns you.”
“Oh yes it does,” Eirana said sharply. “I need to know everything I can before I recommend a transfer to my service, and at the moment, you are both acting like children. If this man is not Tartath, who is he?”
“An annoying prat who thinks I need protecting.”
“Hey! Not my fault, mayda put me to it!” Stefus was indignant. “You and your brother, all the same, trying to save the world--all the time putting yourselves in worse and worse danger until, bam! There goes your tribe. Now you’re the last one left of one of the best in history, and by Lr A’dl, I’m going to protect you until either one of us dies or you marry somebody who can do that and give you children besides! You should have taken up on Tartath’s offer--”
“Never!” Jada cried. “Besides,” she said soothingly, “you do fine at what you’re doing, you just need to realize that I find it completely and totally unnecessary. As for marriage,” she spat to the side, “a woman can be competent and strong without a man, and it is taking everyone way too long to figure that out.”
“Speak it, sister,” said Eirana. “So you’re never going to tell me about Tartath, and I gather that this fellow, Stefus is your name?” He nodded. “Will not leave you if I transfer you in. So, here I have papers for both of you to join my service before you get yourselves killed. I paid good money for you both, so you’d better keep me from regretting it. Jada, you’ll be my personal maid, and Stefus, the road from here to Lendarge and back is long, and my horses grow weary of it. They need attendance of their own, for they are of special quality and the post of the Vokden Highway depends on my riders. My monopoly on that service and the port to the Desca Isles are all that have kept the High Court from taking my position away entirely.”
“Wait a second,” Jada’s eyes widened. “No wonder you have been having trouble with assassins. Tartath used to control the Rashdan post! He used to attack your riders to establish fear and to keep his own monopoly. That’s one of the reasons I dumped him, of course--” Stefus sniggered-- “but since you started training your jengdas to use weapons, they must’ve been able to defend themselves, giving you the monopoly and taking away his wealth.”
“That’s right!” Stefus piped up. “The last time I visited his tents in Dratzim, he was selling his horses, trading them for girca plants; trying to start a farm, I think. Running on hard times.”
“This is all coming together,” said Eirana. “Girca farming is illegal, unless done under the direction and benefit of the High Court. They must be funding it so they can use his hatred to get rid of me and install Tartath as their puppet-man.”
“Jada, this is bad,” Stefus turned to her. “This means that the assassin you bagged way back when probably got free and is still out there.” He turned back to Eirana. “With all due respect, my Lady, you must understand what this means--no food, drink, or ring anyone gives you should be trusted unless you see it being made.”
“Why the ring?”
“They can contain deadly poison,” Jada answered immediately. “Spies keep them on their person so that if an enemy tries to get information out of them, they can put it on and carry their secrets with them to the grave. Isn’t that your tribe’s trade, Stefus?”
“For the most part, we’re in the archery supplies and exotic bird trade,” he replied, as if he was somewhat affronted that a weapon that would threaten Eirana’s life could have possibly been made and sold by him.
“Don’t be ashamed, Stefus,” Jada rolled her eyes at him. “I’ve got bigger skeletons in my tribe’s history than yours; haven’t you seen some of the things our dishas have done?” She gave him a penetrating glare.
“Stop using mind-magic!” He growled at her. “Yeesh, that always was your particular strength. I used to wonder how you had enough faith in that power to fly for your show every night, probably the most dangerous thing you can do with magic, not even using a net, until I got to know you personally and you started using it on me!”
“You’re skilled in the mind-magic?” Eirana asked eagerly. “And you’ve actually managed to fly? Sir Norbert says that that’s one of the most advanced things to do; most people get too intimidated by the height and gravity.”
“Pshaw, it’s easy,” Jada said, as though it were nothing. “You just have to know you can do it, even if it defies every law of science you’ve ever learned.”
As she was speaking, she rose several feet into the air quite calmly, stretching her arms out as though steadying herself, and soared around the room before landing gracefully where she had taken off. “Parlor trick,” she affirmed. “The hard stuff is penetrating the human mind; it is most complex, and has many layers. There are some things that make a person live and have their being that even they do not know about themselves. In order to get into someone else’s mind, you must first understand your own.” She straightened her tunic. “Now, Stefus, there’s no shame in being a forger of rings; it’s a noble trade, even if they can be deadly.”
“I cannot feel shame for the tribe that raised me; they are a noble clan,” Stefus said. “Every tribe has some unsavory deed to its history.”
Suddenly, Jada’s eyes widened with realization of something. “My lady,” she bowed humbly to Eirana, “I’m afraid I must, for your safety, decline your service.”
“What?” Eirana gaped. “Why? You were all for it a moment ago. You would make a fine companion, well-fit for service more stately than the menial castle tasks.”
“The problem is, my Lady,” said Jada in a hushed, worried voice, “that since it is Tartath who seeks your life, I put you at risk. He knows me no matter what my disguise is, and would be able to find me through you, and you through me, doubling both of our dangers. Now, you could toss the rule book out the window and hire me anyways, but you must also remember that you, like me, are the last of your house and must keep it going. The only reason I did not give my life up as forfeit years ago was for the sake of my tribe, and for the honor I owe them.”
Stefus groaned. “You women give me headaches! I agree to protect one rogue Erif Drathil, and it turns to be a real job! Must you continue to endanger yourself?”
“You could back out at any time, you know,” Jada affirmed him gently. “There are greater, more honorable things out there, and as I have adopted the urchin Gawen the ways of my tribe, my death would not be so tragic. Gawen has not yet learned everything there is to know, but he does learn fast.”
“You taught an urtyu a Rashdan craft? Are you crazy?”
“Gawen is my son by law,” Jada growled. “And remember, it is not blood that ultimately lives; it is the intelligence beyond the urtyu you see.”
“What’s an urtyu?”
“Non-Rashdan,” said Stefus.
“Like me?” asked Eirana, glaring at him.
“That is my point,” Jada said hotly. “We have held the world’s best knowledge at ransom for too long. Granted, some things are not meant to be released, like the secret of the dishas, but the crafting of blown glass, how to read and write, and the basics of mind-magic are no great danger to the world.”
“You know what?” Eirana said thoughtfully. “I think I’ll recommend your service to Sir Norbert. He could use an assistant that actually understands the principles he teaches.”
“Can he be trusted?”
“Of course,” Eirana waved her question away impatiently. “He’s a good friend of mine, but he lives a pretty pathetic life. Owns a pub on the lakeshore where he’s constantly on the lookout for someone like him to use the mind-magic to cheat at cards. Then he gets really depressed about how no one likes him and none of his students could so much as lift a teaspoon with their minds, let alone puncture the mind.” Seeing the look on Jada and Stefus’s faces, she added, “But hey, he’s a genius! Speaks just about every language on the face of D’nal. Also an excellent card player, though there’s constant speculation as to whether it’s the result of genuine skill or his mental abilities…”
“What about me?” asked Stefus.
Eirana thought for a second. “Well, you could still work for me. Or, of course, you could work for Norbert, too.”
“You’ve already bought our debts?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a lot of paperwork,” Stefus shrugged. “I think I’ll work for you for awhile.”
“It’s settled, then!” Eirana smiled, then turned to Jada. “I thought you’d be needing these,” she said quietly as she pressed two Erif Drathil chrys knives into Jada’s hands. “Sir Norbert and I trust our jengdas.” Jada stared at them in wonder for a moment, then nodded and strapped them onto the belt of her tunic, glad to feel their familiar weight once more.


Sir Norbert’s pub, The Red Dragon, was crowded that night with students relaxing from heavy workloads, other students desperate to figure out their work by consulting the former students, jengdas trying to make a little more money from Sir Norbert’s card-tables, and people from the village laughing, talking, dancing, and making merry.
A cloaked figure slipped into the pub quietly, unnoticed.
“Sarcon, please,” they told the barman, “and an audience with Sir Norbert.”
“Of course,” he answered, sliding the vile (though non-alcoholic) drink across the bar. “He’s in the third private parlor down the hall on the right--he’s been expecting you.”
The figure nodded and meandered down the hall. There, sitting at a table with a deck of cards suspended in the air in front of him, was Sir Norbert, looking very tired behind his thick spectacles. “So,” he said, “you’ve decided to stop bluffing?”
“To you, anyway,” said the figure.
“Do sit down,” Norbert smiled kindly, “and play a round of Straights.”
The figure did so and drew the cards from the air so that they landed, neatly stacked, in her hands. “I’ll shuffle,” she said.
“So it’s true?” Norbert marveled. “I thought my mind was playing tricks on me when I first saw you for real. Great makeup, by the way.”
“Thanks,” she answered, dealing the cards without touching them. “So you know exactly who I am--can I trust you to let that go no further?”
“Of course,” Norbert replied. “Any revelations as to your identity will be your own fault once you are in my service. What exactly is your specialty, anyway? I’m never sure exactly what to believe from all the rumors that fly so freely around here.”
“Read for yourself,” she said, as a dagger rose up out of the cloak and neatly pinned her cards to the table, artistically fanned.
Norbert laughed as he examined the cards, then the dagger. “The winning hand, and let’s see here…my!” he exclaimed, reading the hilt. “Jada Erif Drathil--knew that, nice tribal insignia by the way,” he screwed up his eyes to read the small, fine writing on the blade. “Glass-blowing artisan, disha-maker, flight entertainer--” his eyes widened. “You’re a goldmine! And they had you scrubbing privies?”
“That was the point,” said Jada. “It would be a bit too conspicuous for me to start doing all these things right under the nose of one of the best-patrolled towns in Yaylithe.”
“A flight entertainer…”
“I was famous for that, yes.” She saw the look on his face and frowned. “What do you have in mind?”
“You see,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “I have a lot of competition with Lady Judith’s pub, The Prankster’s Roost. She’s always had just a slight edge on the clientele by the amount of power her blackmail and bribery side jobs have over them. Plus, she supports things there that I find completely unethical,” he spat on the ground, which mysteriously cleaned itself again. “But with fresh entertainment, with you…”
“You’re forgetting something big,” Jada reminded him. “The moment someone recognizes me, I’m dead.”
“There is that problem,” he mused. “Why don’t we kill Keri? Give you a new identity, something that’ll sell well, something with a ring to it…” he thought for a second. “How about Baroness Sarepta?”
“Baroness? You’ve got to be kidding,” Jada growled. “There’s tables and charts detailing every noble family’s lineage since PD 300.”
“You could pose as my wife,” he suggested. “Most people just assume I don’t have one, and I could say that I’ve kept you at home for the last six years to take care of things.”
“No way,” Jada said immediately, thinking of how Stefus would laugh at her. “How’s this? Let’s say you got so fed up with your knucklehead students that you trained your favorite jengda, just to show them that it’s not impossible. It actually fits your character, and that way I could assist you with your teaching.”
“Great idea!” he exclaimed. “And since legally you belong to me--”
“I belong to no one.”
“Of course, but I’m talking about legalities. Since your paperwork rests with me, there’s nothing the idiots in this fief can say about teaching you mind extension that they could actually carry out.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Jada. “We can work out details like hair and eye color later on--to mistaken identity!”

When Jada came to the forest early that night under the guise of Keri, she met Stefus before the class began and told him the cover story she and Sir Norbert had worked out over the game of cards. She expected him to be pleased, but he gave her a shocking realization.
“If you’re killing off Keri, what’re you going to do about this class? Either you’ll have to stop the class entirely, or reveal who you are.”
He was right. As people came into the clearing, they immediately asked her, “I heard you’d transferred out; what’s going on?”
Gawen, in particular, was curious. “Are you switching identities?” he asked her. “What’ll you do about the people who know you as Keri? How will you dispose of the legal Keri?”
Jada winced. Make it dramatic, she thought. But then she’d run into the same trouble she’d had with Stefus, but exponentially more so because all the people in this class knew her as Keri…
Stefus saw the expression on her face and groaned, not liking what he read there. “Remember, though, the spy from Manicolus--they could incriminate you.”
Just then Alaviel arrived, completing the class.
“Well, sit down, everyone,” Jada cleared her throat and several weightier rocks of the bench-like type moved towards the class. “Before we begin, I’d like to clear up a few rumors. First of all, Rashdan is my native language. Secondly, I have, in fact, transferred out of the school’s service to Lady Eirana’s, and then to Sir Norbert’s. This does not mean,” she held up her hand to stifle the outbreaks of whispering that ensued, “that these classes will be ended. Not even after I am discovered dead on the floor of The Red Dragon next week.”
Alaviel frowned. This all seemed very fishy to her.
Stefus groaned. This time, she’d better fill him in on her plans before she did something crazy.
“I thought I’d better warn you about this,” Jada continued, despite the sepulchral hush that had descended upon the group. “I thought you should know, at long last, who and what I am.”
Her class watched with astonishment as she removed the false nose, the fake eyebrows, and the blond wig. She took a vial and let a drop of its contents fall into each of her eyes. “Not that this tells you anything other than the fact that I’ve lied to you all ever since you’ve known me,” she muttered bitterly under her breath. “The truth is,” she said aloud, “my name is Jada Erif Drathil. For those of you who haven’t been paying attention to the news, I’m being chased down by both the Rashdan Council and the Jegundo High Court all because my brother went about doing what I’m trying to do here in the wrong way. This is why,” she glanced pointedly at Terpsichore, “I’ve always opposed doing this through violence. The time will come for explosive, non-violent action, but for now, we just need to know what we’re doing. Now, I give you all a choice: turn me in and split the money amongst yourselves, which could probably free a good deal of you temporarily, or keep your silence and learn how to stay free once you are. We will vote on this at the end of the lesson, so choose wisely.”
They broke off into the usual groups they did every night, Jada teaching how to read and write Common, Stefus teaching the Rashdan. As she moved among the members of her group, checking their work, Stefus left his--making sure they were very well-occupied with a lengthy passage from the Book of the Prophets to translate--and hissed, “What do you think you’re doing? If they turn you in, they’ll kill you.”
“I’m giving them a taste of democracy,” Jada whispered. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
“And how do you intend to kill off Keri?”
“Publicly, using some very risky stuff to do it; I’ll need your help. Last time I only needed to fool you; this time I need to fool the authorities. Kessil needs to be in on it, too. I’ll explain later.” She refused to elaborate. Besides, what if the vote did not swing her way?
She finished the lesson as usual, and the groups assembled once more as one.
“From this point on,” Jada addressed them, “I have no right to speak to you as a leader unless you vote it. No one is to be called leader unless they are given that power by a majority vote. If he will consent to do so, I will have Stefus facilitate the vote as to whether to turn me in or keep me.”
Everyone stared at Stefus. He shrugged. “All right,” he said. “Will all those in favor of keeping Jada Erif Drathil’s identity secret raise their hands?”
Each hand was raised, shakily, as they weren’t quite used to having this much choice.
“All for turning her in?”
Silence. Then, Terpsichore spoke.
“How could we turn in the only person who’s ever taken an interest in teaching us anything?” A murmur of agreement. “Now how about teaching us something about getting those idiots up at the castle to listen to us?”
“In due time,” Jada said. “We need to learn how to govern ourselves first. If we can’t do that, everything will fall apart the moment we say anything. We need to organize, and we need to have rules. They need to be solid, and they need to be written down. Thus far we have been a school to learn how to read and write, and learn Rashdan, the language of trade. I would like mathematics, science, and, most importantly, history to be taught, but for now we must use what we have. Terpsichore, if we were to rebel at this point, it would be squashed quickly and soon forgotten.”
“Then teach us how to organize,” Terpsichore shot back.
Jada sighed. “That could take a while, and I don’t think I could do that and do the two teaching groups in the same night, unless we wanted to be here until dawn.” She stared off into the distance. “I’ll need to teach you history first, to do it properly, and I can’t teach real history and show how it contradicts the history they’ve told you without it being very risky indeed…”
“Then why not meet two nights a week instead of one?” someone from the back asked. “That way, once we have learned to read and write, we would not need to sit around waiting for the second part of the meeting. Besides, we could teach people how to read and write without risking them reporting the sedition involved with what you suggest.”
“An excellent idea,” said Jada. “Shall we vote on it?”
And thus the school in Oak Rock Forest became the Council of Oak Rock Forest.

“You ran exceptionally late tonight,” Sir Alfonso commented to a weary Alaviel as she collapsed into an armchair in his quarters, “even later than usual. Do we need to give you a curfew or something?”
“No,” Alaviel answered slowly, her magnificent blue eyes wide. Her gaze passed over the half-dozen or so advisors in the room. They were in for a treat tonight. “It is, in fact, Jada Erif Drathil; she revealed her identity to a group of jengdas tonight.”
“She what?”
“A group of jengdas she was teaching to read, write, and just now, the rudiments of democratic government. They are embarking on a retelling of actual history as we speak, and plan to draft a constitution in good time.”
There was an astonished silence in the room.
Then, “That was your job, wasn’t it? Quietly teaching them these things?”
“I guess I’ll have to settle for quietly guiding them.”
“So--so you’re not going to pack up and go back to Manicolus?”
“How can I,” replied Alaviel slowly, “while this group is still just getting started? Hire a look-alike to sit on the throne and keep on sending me detailed reports. I’ll appear in court for feast days and when international matters are being discussed, but otherwise, the country seems to be fine. All my advisors must continue to answer to me, and under absolutely no circumstances are any changes in law, personnel, or military to be made without me. Matters of trade must be voted upon by the full board of advisors if they are too urgent to be taken to me personally. Controversial court cases will be dealt with on feast days.”
The secretary’s hand was a blur, copying down all these instructions.
“I will attend the Festival of Yonba here; it is fortunate indeed that it is a masked event this year. I have reason to believe that Jada will also attend. I will need both Lotwis and Alfonso to keep a sharp eye on things.”
“What about me?” asked a dark-haired man with black eyes from the back.
“I have a special assignment for you,” Alaviel smiled. “I need you to infiltrate the Jegundo prison complex and tell me exactly what you find. This group is harmless now, but I have a feeling that sooner or later they’ll rebel and Jada will do something extremely stupid.”
“More stupid than hiding here?” asked Lotwis.
“Exponentially.”
Her tone was solid, indicating it was time for people to leave. They consented, and Alaviel and Alfonso were left alone. He studied her carefully.
“So you were serious after all.”
“Yes.”
There was a long pause.
“Do you have any idea where this is going to lead?”
“Yes,” Alaviel replied, biting her lip, “and so does Jada, even if she doesn’t know the military details. Of the two of us, I think she’ll come off the worst. She’s a lot smarter about it all than her brother was, but there’s a dangerous streak of masochism in them both.”
“What about us?”
Their eyes connected. Both of them had piercing blue eyes, though Alfonso’s were lighter than hers. Hers just bore into whatever they saw, be it building, animal, or person. He shivered, remembering the first time she had ever looked inside of him. Now it was a familiar sensation.
She looked away.
“What did you see, Alaviel?” He brushed her hair out of her eyes and found tears.
She shook her head. “I hope I’m right in my theory that choice can change what I see. Then again, what I saw goes in accordance with choice, and I may be wrong about what I saw.”
“What did you see?”
“The rebellion won’t succeed,” she looked up. “They will all be caught, and you will be with them. I saw them all in prison, including you.”
“And you?”
“I do not know. I can only see the future of the face I’m seeing, not my own. There is no mirror I can use to determine my own future. The ancients did that to ensure that royals wouldn’t get too wrapped up in protecting themselves from what they see.”
“Let’s walk into the future together,” Alfonso whispered into her ear. “Or at least,” he laughed, “to the festival next week. For now, I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

Jada was extremely careful as she climbed the outer walls of the school. She did not do this merely because she fancied climbing (though she did), but because the only way to get back to her former quarters at this hour of the night to retrieve her possessions was, essentially, to break in. She had done this several times before out of necessity, but she always did it with caution.
The easiest part had always been towards the top, where the balconies of the nobles’ rooms were. The tricky part was to get there without being seen by the watchtower. Rashdan architecture had just started to get incredibly complex at the time the school was built, so at the very least there were decorative moldings and fanciful sculptures she could grab hold of and use as hiding places when the need arose.
She was absent-minded tonight as she thought of the meeting they’d just finished, and not nearly as attentive to the task of climbing as she had been other nights. The stonework was a vast repeating pattern, and she found to her irritation that she had moved too far laterally and was on the wrong side of the building. The fastest way to her quarters would be to cross over the roof.
She checked carefully to make sure that the balconies of the nobles on her side were unoccupied, then quickly scampered up the balconies, moving as fast as she could so as not to be seen. In her haste, her foot slipped and she started to fall. Cursing as she did, she summoned up a strong disbelief in the law of gravity and hung suspended in the air.
Controlling her breathing carefully, she diverted her eyes from the ground--the best way to learn how to fly was to let go of the ground. Look at your audience, but never at the ground. The actors on the ground, but not the ground itself.
She gracefully moved upwards, actually enjoying the moonlight on her skin and the fresh night air. It had been too long since she had done this. If anyone was watching, though…
She immediately landed on the roof. It was a rough landing by her standards, but her standards were very high, and she was out of practice.
She checked the balconies on the other side before she began her descent. The lamps were lit in a few, so she’d have to avoid those. Take the path of darkness.
She made it safely to her room. Feeling extremely grateful that she had left her windows unlocked (for who else would be crazy enough to be climbing the school’s walls at night, anyway?), she quietly made her way into her room.
Having packed everything at last, she suddenly realized that she’d look just as odd wandering the castle with all her belongings as she would wandering in after the meeting. So, she’d have to climb back out again, this time with her belongings.
That would be a problem. Weight was an easy factor to deal with; she simply applied the same principles she used for flying. That still left her, though, with the obviously illegal situation of climbing the castle at night defying the laws of physics in front of the very teachers that taught them.
Well, what choice did she have? She tied everything together with a length of rope; she found it easier to concentrate on one heavy object than many light ones. Also, if something distracted her, she could be reminded of them by the pull of the rope.
Jada slid the window open, ready to start out, but noticed a light from the room next to hers. Curious as to why someone would have their candles lit at this hour, she moved in closer to take a look without being seen.
It was Alaviel’s quarters, or so she assumed, as it was Alaviel who stood inside of them alongside Sir Alfonso. Like Jada’s, they seemed much more luxurious than a jengda’s quarters should be, except that instead of Rashdan furnishings in Erif Drathil orange and lizard insignia, Alaviel’s were dyed royal purple and emblazoned with the crest of the Royal House of Manicolus, and were much more costly in design and materials than Jada’s were.
Jada was nervous when Alaviel opened the window, but Alaviel seemed too much in a world of her own to notice the person and objects floating just above her range of vision.
“Can you see the future in my face?” she asked Sir Alfonso softly. “Can you see the future of Manicolus? Can you see our future?”
“No better than I could see my own,” remarked Alfonso. He paused. “Are your prophecies ever wrong, your majesty?”
Jada’s jaw dropped open, and she almost fell out of the air. Your Majesty?
“How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t need to call me by my title?”
“I am sorry.”
Alaviel bit her lip. “The prophecies are never wrong, but they are almost always misinterpreted. Maybe what I saw didn’t mean the failure of the rebellion, but I don’t see how it could be anything else, as you were all in prison. . .”
He took her face in his long, white hands and kissed it gently. “Worry not about the future,” he whispered. “You are the Queen of Manicolus, and history has been pointing to you as the one who will fix this. I think the prophets knew what they were talking about; I have faith in you.”
A passage from the Prophet’s book suddenly returned to Jada’s mind, the orphan of royalty will rise up and rescue the weak; the weak will rise up and find they are weak no more.
Jada had heard enough; she summoned up her mental energies and levitated towards the roofline. Just as she was about to reach a good place to land, she felt a strong hand seize her ankle, razor-sharp nails making her unable to move.
She twisted around to see her captor.
It was Lady Judith.