Sand Ch. 7: The Festival of Yonba

The hall was opulent, decorated to reflect the beauties of nature. Trees of bronze lined the outer edges of the hall, and flowers imported from the Edarth Isles beamed from every surface. The crowning glory of the hall was a large glass tank of water on the far end of the hall from which spilt glass waterfalls. The water gathered in pools surrounded by natural rocks brought in from the nearby forest, and in them exotic fish shone like jewels. Maestro Lotwis’s orchestra played beautifully from its place below the tank’s platform.
Masked revelers had already assembled and started to dance, though others stood to the side, flirting, eating the rich food laid out lavishly on the lengthy tables, talking, or otherwise having a good time. Jengdas, dressed in the colors of their masters (predominantly the brown of the castle), flitted to and fro, serving food, lighting candles that floated midair, and generally seeing to the comfort and safety of the guests.
Sweeping in with her now well-clad entourage, Lady Eirana entered, dressed in a gown of deep midnight blue velvet trimmed with gold, with a gold mask as an accent. Stefus and Gawen trailed behind her, Gawen looking slightly awkward in his formal tunic. Stefus, on the other hand, wore his with the usual quiet poise he wore anything, and with the falcon sitting impressively on his shoulder, he looked almost regal.
“Gawen, I would be delighted if you would eavesdrop for me this evening,” Eirana chuckled, seeing the relieved look on Gawen’s face, “keep an eye on Keri! Stefus, I would like you to keep an eye out for people dangerous to either myself or Keri. In the meantime, though, if I don’t see you dance with someone at least once this evening, I’ll have to put you back on some boring duty involving lots of paperwork.”
Stefus laughed. “Is that a threat?”
“It is, indeed; I suggest you find a partner.”
“As should you.”
Before Eirana could comment on that remark, a sudden blast of trumpets and loud music burst forth not from the orchestra, but from the entrance of the hall. The orchestra members, startled, stopped playing as everyone turned to look at the entrance, where a riot of color, sound, and movement burst forth as Sir Norbert swept in with a woman mage who was dressed as a dragon in magnificent shades of red, orange, and gold. She was in flight, her shimmering silk wings seeming to actually bear her aloft, and real fire came from her mouth, terrifying some members of the crowd until they realized that the fire became a rain of glass beads that seemed to fall softly. Each one bore the mark of Sir Norbert’s pub.
“Lords and ladies, if you wish to see more such spectacle and fine wonders, come to the Red Dragon!” cried Sir Norbert gleefully as the mage slowly descended and they took a bow. Maestro Lotwis stood looking confused for a moment, then started up the orchestra once more.
“Just look at Lady Judith!” Lady Eirana whispered to the mage as she joined their group. “She’s going to have to work hard to top that one! That is you in there, isn’t it, Keri?”
“Yes,” said Jada with a slight curtsy, looking over at Lady Judith. She was standing in a corner, all dressed in black as a raven, but even though her costume may have helped create her impression of grimness, the look on her face conveyed her utmost loathing for the superior advertising she had just seen. “Doesn’t look too happy, does she?”
“No she doesn’t,” said Stefus, smiling, “but you do. Would you honor me with a dance?” he asked, offering his arm.
“Certainly,” she replied, taking it.
Before they could move to the dance floor, however, once more there came a great blast of sound that was definitely not a dance; it was an anthem, a very, very old song that seemed to be half-forgotten that dreamily played as a woman all clad in white glided into the hall, wearing upon her head a crown of golden roses with strands of gold beads and thread commingled with pearls running down the length of her veil and dress. The mask she wore was white, also, save for the piercing blue eyes that shone from behind it, seeming to emanate light as bright as the stars. Her beauty was unmistakable; even beneath a mask, she seemed to radiate power and majesty.
All were silent as the ancient tune continued to play; as it dwindled down, she turned her mask to the crowd and, smiling, said in a clear, melodic voice that seemed as if it could both soothe a lion and command a tempest, “Is this not the Festival of Yonba? Be merry, and enjoy yourselves well! Do not so silently stare, for music is good, and so is the dance!” And, clapping her hands, Maestro Lotwis struck up the orchestra and slowly but surely, the people of the hall began to dance.
“Who is she?” Jada wondered out loud as she and Stefus waltzed gracefully across the hall, her occasionally stepping on his feet and apologizing as her attention wandered. “She’s lovely.”
“So are you,” Stefus grinned, wincing from her most recent treading on his foot. “Jada, the step goes like this, remember?” He demonstrated it to her briefly as Lady Eirana and Sir Ziro sailed past, Eirana winking at Jada and Ziro giving Stefus a thumbs-up.
“Oh; right,” she said, bringing her focus back to the dance. “That’s a nice color on you; brings out your eyes.”
“Lady Eirana knows how to dress people,” he shrugged, giving her a twirl. “She had fun with Gawen; the little urchin has no manners.”
“He has particular difficulty, I’ve noticed, with dealing with women,” Jada chuckled.
“Women are hard for us to figure out; they’re so. . .complicated.” He looked into her eyes. “I do not have the same ability you do to see the mysteries of the mind, and you puzzle me.”
“All will become clear in due time,” she sighed. “You also puzzle me; why don’t you return to your tribe? Surely your mother is not so harsh as you say.”
“She isn’t.”
“Then why?” She searched his face. “Why do you stay?”
“Because. . .” he trailed off, shook himself, and quickly changed the subject. “You do have your makeup on underneath the mask, right? You’d be easy to mark with those new scars.”
“Of course I do,” Jada replied, disappointed that he hadn’t answered her question. “Do I look like an urtyu to you?”
“You used to, but tonight you don’t. Isn’t it somewhat foolhardy, wearing the masque uniform of the Erif Drathil?”
“Who would know it?” Jada asked him. “It looks like a machination of Sir Norbert’s.”
“How am I supposed to protect you when you endanger yourself?” he moaned. “If Judith and Ziro could recognize your weapon runes, people could just as easily recognize your old costume.”
“You know what?” Jada said gently. “I think you underestimate the value of what you have done. You saved my life by listening to me, in more ways than one.”
“So if you plunge into whatever suicidal venture you’re planning, what good will it have been?” he demanded.
Jada sighed. “Death is an eventual given, in whatever form it comes. Hell is not, and it is far worse than any death here. It is that from which you have saved me.”
He stared at her, amazed, and she shut her lips tight, her eyes somehow telling him that she had said more than she wished to, just as he almost had done earlier in the conversation. There was awkward silence throughout the rest of the dance, which thankfully came to a close shortly. She curtsied respectfully, but made it quite clear that she had no desire for another dance.
“What a mystery,” he said to the falcon, sitting wearily down on one of the chairs that lined the hall. “So scared to let anyone know who she is, and no wonder, but harms herself, I am afraid, by not letting her friends know who she is. Maybe she doesn’t know.”
“Talking to your bird again?”
“Gawen,” Stefus smiled. “Why aren’t you off dancing with some pretty lass? I know Jada taught you how to dance.”
“All the women here are too old for me, but not for you. What’s your excuse? Lady Eirana will be quite angry with you.”
“I don’t think so,” Stefus pointed to where Lady Eirana and Sir Ziro continued on the next dance, looking quite absorbed in their own conversation, though it did appear that Sir Ziro had consumed a few too many glasses of wine, judging by the way his movements were a bit more fluid than usual.
“Point taken,” Gawen said, “but why aren’t you dancing with anyone?”
“I was, so I’ve followed orders. You can leave me alone now.”
“Who did you dance with?”
Stefus tried another route. “You know, Jada would be quite angry at you for using grammar like that. I believe the sentence is supposed to say, ‘With whom did you dance?’ “
“Well, pompous one, with whom did you dance?” Gawen asked him testily. “Did it happen to be the same lady who actually bothers with grammar when it is rather unnecessary?”
“Grammar helps you get your point across,” Stefus replied.
“Shame on you; Jada would be angry at you for using a preposition at the end of a sentence. Across what are you trying to get your point? What is your point, anyway?” Gawen teased him mercilessly.
“Good question!” Stefus fumed, and turned to walk out of the hall, but was hindered by a warning gaze from Lady Eirana’s strange golden eyes. He scanned the hall for Sir Norbert, who would have been a welcome new conversationalist, but he currently happened to be dancing with Jada, who gave him a warning look quite equal to Lady Eirana’s.
Finally, his eyes settled on Lady Kessil, who was chattering with some of her friends from the healer community. He stepped up to join them--he always did find their conversations enlightening. “Mind if I join you?” he asked them politely.
“Go ahead,” said Kessil. “As I was saying, we are having more and more breakthroughs as we study the dentra herb; not only has it proved itself to be an effective drug for the enhancement of magical abilities, but also for fighting disease.”
“The Rashdans have been doing that for hundreds of years,” Stefus chimed in. “It doesn’t work for everything, though; it’s extremely effective at eradicating infection, but it is useless against magical injuries and damaged body parts.”
“So it can stop the source of disease, but it cannot cure the symptoms?” one healer asked, amazed.
“That’s right, and since it is usually by the symptoms that infection is recognized, dentra is often not used until it is too late,” Stefus replied, glad to find himself useful in a conversation.
“Then the problem is learning how to recognize infection before symptoms show,” Lady Kessil said slowly.
Stefus thought for a moment. “Actually, the best course of action is to take mirkith regularly as a preventative medicine. The Rashdans have been doing this for some time, also.”
“How do you come to know so much about Rashdan medicine?” another healer asked, curious. “And how do Rashdans afford so much mirkith when the prices are so high?”
“It is a Rashdan tribe that refines the dentra into mirkith,” he said, avoiding the first question. “They receive the dentra at bulk prices, and give other Rashdans a discount while charging outsiders exorbitant prices at as much as a three hundred percent markup.”
Lady Kessil frowned. “So the Rashdans are holding the medical world hostage for the sake of business. How do they counteract the hallucinogenic side affects?”
“If you wanted to sidestep the Rashdan medicine trade, you could buy dentra directly from the Desca Isles and figure out how to refine it yourself. As for the hallucinogenic side affects,” Stefus added, “the Rashdans believe that they are visions from Lr A’dl, their god, meant either to instruct them or reveal the future. To be on the safe side, most only take mirkith before sleeping so that those side affects simply blend with their regular dreams.”
“Fascinating,” one healer remarked. “The real mystery, then, is how to refine it.”
“Indeed,” Stefus smiled. “Trust me, the tribe that holds the secret to that particular process is not going to give you any help. They control both the High Court of Tre-revaj and the Rashdan High Council, and were partially responsible for the destruction of the Erif Drathil tribe.”
“You mean the Riya Dru have been controlling this commodity all this time?” Lady Kessil gasped. “I thought they controlled post, not mirkith!”
“They used to control the post until Lady Eirana started sending her watchmen on the Vokden highway for the safety of travelers. The Riya Dru only controlled that because they were on good terms with the robbers. Because the Tre-revaj empire depends on sending people on those roads where the robbers are, they gave the Riya Dru the primary trade contract with the Desca Isles to keep the roads safe.”
One of the healers remarked, “That’s terrible! Our own government is hindering medical research! This all makes sense now; the last time I asked for a grant for the research of an herb discovered recently near the Makdrek Mountains, they turned me down flat! They’ve got it in for the medical community at large!”
“Oh, stop being so paranoid,” Lady Kessil grumbled. “They still want us around so that the politicians can live long, healthy lives while the common people barely reach their forties.”
“How do you know all of this?” the healer who had asked him before persisted.
Stefus was thinking very quickly, not wanting to show stress under the steady gaze of the group of healers. He did not want to lie, as it was extremely difficult to keep track of too many lies, and he did not want to say anything to draw attention to the fact that he and Jada were, in fact, Rashdans. So, he smiled and asked, “Lady Kessil, will you honor me with a dance?”
She readily agreed, and hissed in his ear, “You need to be more careful. We have enough trouble with Keri.” She added aloud in a carefree manner, “It really is remarkable, what you said back there. I will set my team of researchers to the task of figuring out the refining process as quickly as possible.”
“It’s probably something blindingly simple, like distilling the juice or reducing it,” Stefus shrugged. “I also think there’s a few additional ingredients they use to either enhance or inhibit its effects.”
“Why would they inhibit it?” Kessil asked.
Stefus frowned. “The Riya Dru have this terrible attitude that pureblood Rashdans are better than everyone else. One of the main reasons their clan leader, Dashad Riya Dru, was bent on assassinating Jada was, other than a personal matter that Jada would kill me for discussing, a strong advocate of sharing Rashdan technology with the world at large. Also, her brother’s group of extremists were not all Rashdans, and by incinerating violence, they gave Rashdans a bad name.”
“So. . .” Kessil thought for a moment. “He’s been selling weaker medicine to us so that we won’t be as healthy as pureblood Rashdans. What was the personal matter?”
“Tartath is Dashad Riya Dru’s son.”
“The girca farmer?”
“Yes,” Stefus answered. “He tried to get Jada to marry him.” He glanced over at Jada, who was dancing with Sir Norbert to make sure she couldn’t hear what he was saying. They seemed to be too busy trying to figure out who the White Lady was to notice. “I have no idea what she saw in him, but they were very close for a while.”
“Are you jealous?” Lady Kessil asked, incredulous as she noticed his tone of voice.
“Come on,” Stefus moaned. “I’ve already lost one dance partner due to an awkward moment, and I don’t want to lose another.”
“Well, are you?”
“Why do you need to know?”
“I’m your doctor,” Kessil said, “and we have discovered that negative emotions shorten your life span. It is the duty of the doctor to look at a person’s entire health, including the emotions.”
“Really? What interesting research. What methodology did you use?”
Lady Kessil frowned. “Someday I’m going to be able to figure out how you and Jada do that, but until then, I’ll settle for learning how to recognize it.”
“Recognize what?” Stefus grinned.
“Both you and Jada are extremely good at it, too, and I don’t think I would have recognized it if I hadn’t known you for so long.”
“And you’re a woman. I don’t know why, but women seem to pick up on it more easily than men,” Stefus puzzled.
Lady Kessil shrugged. “After centuries of being trapped in each other’s company, we’ve learned a lot about such things.”
“That there is exactly what Jada would say!” Stefus exclaimed. “Does she hate men?”
“I don’t think so,” Lady Kessil replied as he twirled her. “I think she’s had some bad experiences and that she’s very afraid of repeating them. Also, I do believe that in some small way, she thinks that alienating herself romantically is protecting not just herself, but others. I’m not sure, but I think that something to do with how she rejected Tartath makes her feel guilty, and she doesn’t want to hurt anyone like that again.”
“She had every right to reject him,” Stefus commented. “It’s about time she learned to say no. “
At that moment, a loud crash was heard from the opposite side of the dance floor, and everyone stopped their conversation as they listened to the sound of a man and a woman fighting.
“I SAID I DIDN’T WANT TO DANCE!”
“I ASKED YOU, AND YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SAY YES, AS A COMMON COURTESY!”
“I DON’T CARE WHAT THE HELL COMMON COURTESY IS; THERE’S NO WAY I’LL DANCE WITH YOU! WHY DON’T YOU JUST RUN ALONG AND PLAY WITH YOUR LITTLE FRIENDS AND KEEP ON DANCING WITH LADY EIRANA LIKE YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO, YOU DWARF?”
“I’d better go make sure Lady Eirana’s all right,” Stefus murmured to Kessil, but as he turned to look, he saw that Jada was already there standing bravely between Lady Judith and Sir Ziro, double daggers raised with her silken wings. The hall was deathly silent.
“MOVE OUT OF THE WAY, LITTLE LIZARD; MY QUARREL IS WITH ZIRO!”
“No!” Jada said, trembling. “Harm no one, in the name of she whose festival we celebrate!”
“I guess she does know how to say no,” Lady Kessil shook her head, seeing the appalled look on Stefus’s face. “She’s probably about to do something foolish to ensure my job security.”
“How can you talk about it like that? What if she gets herself killed one of these times?”
“Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it?”
She soon regretted her words as Lady Judith laughed a high, shrill laugh. “Yonba? She is not your deity, little lizard. If anything, I would say that she has turned her face against you, and against your now-forgotten tribe!”
“But the prophecy!” Jada exclaimed. “It was Yonba who gave the prophecy of she who will rise up and rescue the weak; the weak will rise up and find they are weak no more. I may not worship her, but I believe that what she said about what is to come is true, and that at this moment, it is being fulfilled!”
“BY WHOM?” Lady Judith advanced towards Jada, the long blades of steel on her fingers gleaming in the lamplight.
“Now come on, ladies, let’s not get into a cat fight over theology; we’re at a party! Let’s have some fun!” Sir Ziro remarked.
“I have not forgotten you, you dwarf,” Judith’s eyes flashed as she lashed out at him with her long, steel fingernails. Everyone gasped as they clashed with Jada’s chrys-knives. No jengda dare fight a noble. . . “Dare you defend this simpering, spineless toad, little lizard? Or is he one of the weak of the prophecy? Answer me!”
“I am not the one predicted in the prophecy!” Jada gasped in pain as all five of Judith’s right-hand blades tore her shoulder.
Stefus was outraged. He wanted to help her, to go to her defense, but as he looked at Lady Kessil, she whispered, “I don’t like this, but what she’s doing is important; don’t stop her.” Her face was as pale as the snow outside.
Stefus opened his mouth to protest as Lady Judith shot back at Jada, “Then who is she? Who is the one of the prophecy?”
Sir Ziro had fled, and Jada was cornered on the ground in front of a table. She whispered something barely audible, but obviously Judith heard it, for she roared with laughter. “THAT WHIMPERING PRINCESS OF THE NORTHERN LANDS? HA! I’D SOONER BELIEVE IT TO BE THE PATHETIC LAST ERIF DRATHIL THAN HER!”
With that, Jada bowed her head solemnly as Judith raised her arm high for an attack. The blood was already flowing freely from her shoulder, and she wasn’t sure if her body could take another blow. She prepared herself mentally for what was to come, only to hear, instead of the ripping of her own flesh, the clashing of the ten blades against one solid piece of elegantly worked steel.
Jada looked up and saw, to her amazement, the mysterious White Lady standing between her and Lady Judith, seeming to radiate with an unimaginable fury. The ancient song seemed once more to come from her, and her eyes glowed with an unquenchable fire. “HARM HER NOT!” she proclaimed loudly. “TEMPT NOT THE IRON WORKINGS OF DESTINY, O THEIF OF FREEDOM!”
“Ah,” Lady Judith gave a lopsided smirk, “so you think that it is you, pale one?”
“It is I indeed,” the White Lady said clearly and musically. “If you wish to harm either of your victims any further, you shall have to go through me.”
“A welcome challenge!”
The two women lunged at each other, and as their blades clashed, the most terrible noises hissed from the steel, and colored smoke arose, perhaps as a by-product of the White Lady’s magic, hiding the two opponents. They locked themselves in deadly combat, and people started to run, fearing the power of the combatants, especially as they smashed into the huge glass tank of exotic fish and water began to flood the hall.
Jada, wounded, could not draw up the strength to stand, and resigned herself to the water that was rising around her; her shoulder bled freely from the five gaping wounds. She half-heard the clashing of the battle, but it seemed so far away as she closed her eyes in pain. She prayed softly to Lr A’dl as the water enveloped her and she allowed it to fill her nostrils, as she was too exhausted to fight any longer. She was vaguely aware of being pulled carefully from the water, but then she knew no more.

The hall was wrecked.
Broken furniture littered the room, which was knee-deep in water and broken glass. The lovely exotic fish swam aimlessly in confused patterns that seems to echo the confusion in Gawen’s mind. Stefus’s falcon glided over the hall, surveying the damage. He had seen parties end in wreckage, but never like this.
He wandered aimlessly--Lady Kessil and Stefus had dragged Jada to Kessil’s private quarters to be healed, Sir Norbert had joined the other mages to repair the damage done to the room, and Lady Eirana had attended to the healing of Sir Ziro, knowing enough of medicine to cure his wounds, for Lady Kessil was fully occupied with Jada.
Gawen was numb. He stooped over to pick up one of the brightly-colored imported flowers, a delicate, beautiful thing. He did not have it in him to cry--instead, his senses were more finely-tuned than ever, and every noise around him seemed magnified.
He left the hall; the wreckage depressed him. He longed for the gentle light of the stars and the soft breath of the wind. He suddenly remembered that tonight there was to be, after the festivities, a meeting of the Council of Oak Rock forest, and hastened to where he saw a clump of jengda huddled at the edge of the wood.
“What is going on?” They whispered to him as he drew near. “We cannot see the scarsh fire.”
He apprised them of the situation. They were all shocked. “That was her?”
“Yes,” Gawen answered. Everyone was there, he marveled. Despite the confusion, everyone was there, except, of course, Jada and Stefus and. . . He frowned. “Where’s Alaviel?”
No one could answer him, so he went searching for her. Having heard from Jada what Alaviel’s true identity was, he could not doubt that Alaviel was one of the masked revelers, perhaps one of those who were reconstructing the hall. As he looked at the haggard assortment of mages who were doing so, however, he realized that she would probably not wish to accidentally reveal her identity by performing such advanced magic, for the magic of the royal house of Manicolus had always had a distinctive purple tint to it whenever it was being used as a force of change.
He immediately rushed to her room, but found that she was not there, either. This truly left Gawen clueless. Where else could she be? He vaguely remembered something Jada had said about Sir Alfonso being one of Alaviel’s advisors, and rushed to nobles’ quarters. Knowing how out of place he looked, he went to the window at the end of the hallway, opened it, and climbed to Sir Alfonso’s balcony. He could see shapes inside, and could listen to their conversation without being seen by sitting on the support beams and ducking out of sight whenever anyone came outside.
“What on D’nal was all of that for? You could have gotten killed!”
“That’s Your Majesty to you, and do you seriously think that a pompous plotter with feelings of entitlement could damage me?” Gawen recognized Alaviel’s voice. She sounded tired, but spoke forcibly. “Besides, a good deal of our interests rest on Jada being alive and healthy, and they’re having a hard enough time healing her as it is; imagine what it would be like if I hadn’t stepped in.”
“She’s right, you know, though I do doubt the wisdom of drawing such attention to Jada and the Crown of Manicolus. As soon as Tre-revaj suspects a connection, it could mean a war for which we are not prepared.” It was Sir Alfonso. “This also means, however, that Lady Judith broke the pact you made with her ensuring my safety and Jada’s.”
“Yes, but it could also be perceived that since you deliberately interfered, the pact is no longer valid,” Maestro Lotwis’s voice added.
“Either way, you have the right to put Lady Judith through a good deal of pain.”
“For what price? Sir Shath coming to Yaylithe, perhaps?”
“I think that’s going to happen anyway,” an unfamiliar voice entered the conversation. “Lady Judith did use the words ‘little lizard,’ which will be all over the country with the gossip spread by this mishap, along with the usually trifling subjects of what everyone was wearing. This will undoubtedly catch Sir Shath’s attention, and he’ll be here within the week.”
Gawen gasped. He swiftly climbed back into the shelter of the castle and made his way to Kessil’s quarters. He closed the door behind him as the two conscious occupants turned around to look at him.
“Did you deal with the Council?” Stefus asked immediately.
“Yes,” Gawen panted. “They’re all back in their quarters.” He glanced at Lady Kessil; she demanded no explanation. “All except Alaviel; she’s meeting with her advisors. She was the White Lady, the one who saved Jada’s life. Her advisors think that Sir Shath will be here within the week to investigate the rumors that will be spread.”
Stefus shook his head gravely. “I thought as much. Did you hear anything else?”
“Alaviel and Judith had a pact concerning Jada’s safety, and Judith broke it. Alaviel doesn’t want to follow through, though, because she thinks that it will only magnify the problems we have already.”
“What do we do, then?” Kessil asked, still concentrated on her work. “It will take more than a week for these wounds to heal, if they heal.”
“Will she live?” Gawen asked anxiously.
“Most likely,” Kessil shrugged. “She’s always been very tenacious, and the mirkith she takes regularly will help. It’ll be close, though--very close. She’ll definitely know it when the weather changes. Still, though, what do we do?”
Stefus fingered the Rashdan pendant with Jada’s tribal insignia around her neck. It was a simple but beautiful design, with a clean-cut etching of a lizard surrounded by fire. He looked at it thoughtfully. “Do you know what a lizard does when it is caught by a predator?” He asked them suddenly.
“It leaves its tail behind, and grows a new one,” Gawen replied. “That’s one of the first things Jada taught me about the natural world. She said that it was very important for some reason.”
“Kessil, how hard would it be to keep Jada safely unconscious long enough to let Sir Shath see who she is and watch her burial?”
“Are you mad?” Kessil exclaimed. “That requires a steady dosage of kethona given in small amounts over regular periods of time. Then, if she wakes up, the whole thing falls apart. Besides, letting Sir Shath see her? Are you out of your mind?”
“If you report her as dead, and he sees that this is Jada, he will no longer pursue her after he sees her buried. It helps that no one knows that you’re helping us. He probably knows, thanks to Tartath, that the one unquestionable proof of a Rashdan’s identity is the pendant, and if he sees that and the scar on Jada’s side from her fight with Dashad Riya Dru, he will not question us. We just need to make sure that she would look convincingly dead before whatever scrutiny he would put her under.”
“There’s the problem,” Kessil said. “Even though she would look convincingly dead, everyone gives off a faint trace of subconscious mind activity as long as they are living. Any good mage could detect it. Now, Jada has told me that she is skilled in masking it, but she would need to know that she needs to do it.”
“Then have me talk with her, mind to mind,” Stefus said.
“All right,” Kessil nodded. She sighed. “That means I’ll have to call her to consciousness.” She stretched her arm out over Jada’s face, brows wrinkled. “You should be able to do that now. Gawen, let’s go see how Eirana is doing with Sir Ziro.”
As the door shut behind Gawen, Stefus turned to look down at Jada. She still looked comatose, but at least he knew she was alive this time. He touched her forehead with his fingers, and, with some effort, entered her mind.
It was definitely unlike the time she had started to teach him how to fly. Then, it had been controlled, ordered, and focused on the task of the moment. Her thoughts had been fully verbalized and well-formed.
Now, everything was a whirlwind of confusion. Images swirled around him--the White Lady, Lady Judith, and many other people. He shuddered, feeling her pain, but he kept his own mind calm.
You’re trying to make sense of a lot of information right now, he communicated. You’re in a great deal of pain.
Waves of sarcasm washed over him.
This is not the time for that, he thought steadily.
His own face came into view. Yes, it’s me. Floods of water surrounded him, and he felt someone pull him out of it. Yes, that was me, too.
Gratitude flooded around him, then an image of Lady Kessil.
She’s healing you--it could take a while.
An image of her brother’s dead body came up. Stefus was too horrified to verbalize anything for a moment, then sent a reassuring feeling that the same would not happen to her. He collected himself, and thought, Sir Shath is coming for you.
Fear and panic rose up all around him. He quickly added, He won’t get you, though--we have a plan, and explained it to her.
Once again, the gratitude came. For the first time, her thoughts distilled into words. I will do this. Thank you.
All of a sudden, everything around him went solid black, and he was afraid that this meant that she had died, but just as suddenly, he was back in her mind. I was practicing, she said quickly.
He felt her exhaustion, and couldn’t control his feelings of pity. He sent her an image of the desert, with the gleaming tent city of Folona under a sky filled with the shimmers and sparkles of the finest-made dishas. She was there, out on the dunes, firing them into the sky with joy.
He slowly backed out of her mind and saw the room, once again, from his eyes. He blinked, and realized that on Jada’s face there was now a smile, despite the pain. He felt exhausted from the level of magic he had just performed, but he sat there a little while longer, watching that smile. He slowly bent down and kissed her forehead, then let Gawen back in.
“How is Sir Ziro?” Stefus asked.
“He’ll live,” Gawen answered. “Lady Eirana had him healed in no time. He’ll just be sore for a while, she says. What about Jada?” He was anxious.
“She’ll do it.” Stefus paused. “Did she ever let you in her mind?”
“Once or twice,” Gawen replied. “She always made a point of organizing everything first. Why? What was it like this time?”
“A real headache,” Stefus rubbed his temples. “I just wondered.”
“How is she?” It was Lady Kessil. “The visual landscape of the mind reflects the condition of the body,” she explained to Gawen.
“It’s a mess; not much linguistic thought, and very, very scattered. She’ll follow the plan, though,” Stefus informed her.
“Can she actually do it?”
“She practiced, and actually convinced me,” he replied.
Lady Kessil whistled. “That’s some very difficult magic. Sir Norbert would be proud.”
Right on cue, Sir Norbert came in and collapsed into one of Lady Kessil’s chairs, exhausted. “The place will take a week to repair, but it’s no longer such a hazard. The mages have done their part; the rest will be up to the jengda. How’s my jengda?”
They explained the situation.
“So you’re going to disclose everything?” Sir Norbert frowned.
“Well,” Stefus said, “not everything.” He glanced at Gawen. “They need not know who I am, that she was still making dishas, or that we’re all connected. They also have no need to know about what we’ve been doing in the forest--”
“What have you been doing in the forest?”
“Do you think we should tell them?” Gawen asked anxiously.
“Should we?” Stefus ran his fingers through his hair. “It was her idea, and her idea to keep it secret--it’s protected with a scarsh fire; will we be able to see it if we tell?”
“How will our numbers grow if we just keep letting people stumble on it?” Gawen asked. “Besides, surely Jada is not the only one who can light a scarsh fire. Is there anything keeping you from lighting it to see if they are trustworthy?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?” Kessil asked impatiently. “What on D’nal could you be doing in the woods that would make us turn traitor?”
Stefus glared at Kessil, glanced at Jada’s sleeping form, and said, “It just doesn’t feel right, doing this without her consensus, but I guess we can’t bring her to consciousness for everything.” He carefully held out his hand and recited,
“Light guides,
Darkness hides;
Those who betray
See naught but lies.”
In the palm of his hand sprung brilliantly colored flames, as bright as the fabric of the dress Jada wore, he thought to himself. He looked from face to face, and confirmed by the way they blinked in the light that they could see it. He breathed deeply, and told them all about the Council of Oak Rock Forest.
There was a stunned silence when he finished.
“Are you suicidal?” Kessil asked, after a prolonged pause. “Not, of course, that it isn’t a noble cause, but that is the sort of thing that is punishable by girca poisoning, and I’ve studied the effects of it!”
“So has Jada,” Eirana reminded her. “This definitely explains a lot--she must’ve been the stranger who saved me in the woods.”
“I thought she might be doing something like this,” Sir Norbert cleaned his spectacles thoughtfully. “I can’t blame her; the current state of education is something that bothers me, too. I just would never have the patience to do what she’s doing now; I barely have the patience for my job at the University. My heart’s in linguistics, not in teaching.”
“Wait a second,” Kessil paused. “What happened to you in the woods? You came in with the wound, and never told me what happened.”
“Another assassin,” Lady Eirana shrugged. “I was on my way back to the castle from the Prankster’s Roost, and they attacked me. It wasn’t even as though they had planned on attacking me; they just said that it was not safe for me alone at night, and hauled off and did it. Someone with a scarsh fire in a glass cup set them on fire and saved me.”
“That sounds like something Jada would do,” Stefus murmured.
“What were you doing in the forest alone in the first place?” Kessil’s stare pierced into her. “Given your position, you shouldn’t be going anywhere alone.”
“Neither should Jada, given what happened tonight,” Sir Norbert pointed out.
Kessil frowned. “Stefus can’t be body guard for both of them.”
They were all staring at him now.
He was growing quite peeved at the whole situation as he examined the awkward silence. Right about this time, he was enjoying the thought of writing a scathing letter to his mother telling exactly to what a sticky situation her prompting had led him. Finally, he said aloud, “Jada has unquestioned loyalty for you, Lady Eirana; her deeds prove this. She is capable of protecting you, even if she is not capable of protecting herself. That is where I come in. I swore to my mayda that I would protect her. Obviously, she’s out of my hands, but I’ll do what I can do. The problem is, the three of us can’t be in the same place every instant of every day.”
Kessil’s eyes widened. “Eirana, what about Sir Ziro? He could watch over you. You already spend a significant amount of time together in your university classes.”
“And I noticed that the two of you have developed a certain, ah, affinity for each other,” Sir Norbert grinned.
“Why, Professor!” Eirana exclaimed indignantly. “Isn’t that considered violation of privacy, prying into people’s thoughts without their permission?”
He shrugged. “No law against it, and it just sort of screamed itself out. I try to have good manners, but my senses are so sharp that every time someone thinks something more intense than ‘I wonder what we’re having for supper tonight,’ it gets broadcasted to me. It’s quite annoying, really; I have to drug myself to sleep at night or else I can’t because there’s so much going on in my head. Lady Kessil knows this.”
She nodded. “It’s a serious problem among sharper mages. There’s only a few in the world powerful enough to have this problem, so they try to keep a good distance away from each other. That’s why no one in the Tre-revaj High Court ever wants to meet any Manicolus royals in person; they have strong magical abilities passed down through the bloodline.”
Stefus frowned. “Then how did Mentmac lose at cards?”
“Alcohol causes loss of mental abilities,” Kessil smiled. “That’s why you never see Sir Norbert drinking, by the doctor’s orders.” She patted the mage on the shoulder as he rolled his eyes at her. “He indulges in drinking secondhand, by keeping his pub; their thoughts are more susceptible to being picked up by his senses.”
“It’s actually quit amusing.”
“I can imagine,” Stefus chuckled. “So that’s why my mayda told me never to drink.”
“Anyway,” Eirana tutted impatiently, trying to get the rest of them to focus, “we ask Ziro to watch over me; Stefus watches over Jada, the plan goes great. Just out of curiosity: how many mages like Sir Norbert are there? Do they pose any danger to Jada or any of us?”
“All mages are required to register with the High Court,” Sir Norbert’s expression darkened. “Those who register are then sent to this university to be detained for four years for supposed training purposes. It is, in fact, a way of making sure that anyone like me isn’t too close to the capital and that anyone like me is actually discovered. There are mages who travel with the Guard for the purpose of discovering if anyone has been practicing magic without being registered either with the High Court or the Rashdan council. It isn’t a huge problem, though, since magic is an art that requires training that only a skilled teacher can give, and the only skilled teachers left in Yaylithe are either here at this university or among the Rashdans.” His voice was bitter. “Education is, after all, the High Court’s greatest way of controlling the people. Commoners cannot afford the university, and the Rashdans tend to keep to themselves, branding anyone who interferes too much with the outside world a dangerous threat to the Rashdan way of life.”
“Hey!” Stefus was defensive. “We have to be careful about the safety of our people. We were in captivity to the High Court before, and we cannot afford to have it happen again. Besides, not all of us are the same; it’s generally idiots like the Riya Dru who scare the rest of the Council into doing what he says that keep us so isolated. My tribe takes pride in teaching the commoners about the different kinds of bird life all over D’nal.”
“Just as a way of selling your wares!” Sir Norbert replied. “Besides, fascinating a science ornithology may be, is it really useful to your audience? It may entertain them, but I don’t think it does any good in the long run.”
There was a tense silence in the room. It was finally broken when Lady Kessil sighed and said, “Gawen, go find the members of this Council of Oak Rock Forest and tell them to get some sleep before their duty shifts in the morning; doubtless the castle will have them working overtime to repair the damage from tonight. Eirana, go attend to Sir Ziro, and give him the offer. Norbert, return to the hall before they miss you. Stefus--” he looked wistfully at the door, “stay here. From now on, you don’t leave her side.”
“She’s not going to like that,” he murmured.
“I don’t care. From now on, you’re her shadow, hear me? When she is healthy again, perhaps you can have some time off, but for now, you stay here.”
Wonderful he thought grimly to himself. He sighed, and, borrowing writing materials from Lady Kessil’s desk, started to write, Dear Mayda, Thank you so much for teaching me to perform what I promise. Just wait until you hear about all of this. Noting the sarcasm in his own writing, he chuckled slightly, scratched out what he’d written, glanced at Jada, and rewrote the beginning of his letter more politely. It was bad enough to be forced to stay with one unhappy woman; it would be sheer hell to have his mother like that, also.
Dear Mayda. . .

Sand Ch. 6: Traitor

“What is a jengda who does not even belong to the castle’s employ doing levitating themselves over the castle with stolen goods at such an ungodly hour of the morning?” Judith’s voice was as steely as the steel nails she wore, which were currently digging painfully into Jada’s ankle, drawing blood.
“The goods aren’t stolen!” Jada shot back indignantly, hoping to come off as angry rather than frightened, which was her real feeling at the moment.
Judith firmly pulled Jada onto the balcony, drew some irons out of a weatherbeaten chest by her door, and chained Jada to the railing. Then, she pulled the string of Jada’s possessions onto the balcony and examined them, one by one.
“Let’s see who you are, shall we?” Judith opened one trunk and her jaw dropped at a set of glistening hand-blown glass vases and bottles. Thankfully, Judith did not seem to recognize the distinct craftsmanship of the Erif Drathil glass, but as she examined the contents of each bottle, Jada’s heart sank. “Kethona--tsk tsk, that’s illegal for you, by the last decree of the lord of the castle. Eye-dye; are you an actress? Or not exactly what you seem? Disguise putty, mirkith, spicalia. . .good imports, by the looks of them. That’s a lot of sarcon.”
Judith removed the top layer of the trunk and her eyes widened in yet further delight and shock as she ran her hands through several sacks of black powder. Jada’s heart pounded as heavily as the blood seeping through her leggings as Judith picked up completed dishas and grinned at them with glee.
“So the rumors are true,” Judith breathed.
“What rumors?” Jada asked, distracted, wondering where her slip had been.
“Well,” Judith said as she carelessly scraped some of the gunpowder from under her steel nails, “that trick you pulled, fighting off that assassin from my dear friend Lady Eirana, revealed a lot about your origins. Those daggers, for instance, created quite a bit of a stir among the weaponry community. So foolish of you, keeping such obvious proof of identity on your person, not to mention waving them around like that!”
Jada silently cursed the day she had been presented with her chrys knives.
“From that, it was not too hard to figure out who you were, but without proof, without the actual knife, what gain could there be in it? Besides, I am not so much interested in your capture award, quite a bit of money from two governments, but in the secret you possess.”
Judith continued to rummage through the trunks, breathing hard. Jada could feel the precious papers, so carefully folded and sewn into hidden compartments in her clothing. If Judith knew how to use disguise putty, surely she would know the old hidden compartments trick, wouldn’t she?
Judith gave up her fruitless search of the trunks. “Where is it?” she cried. “I know you have it somewhere!” She swiped at Jada with the claws and dragged them across Jada’s cheek, leaving four long gashes across it. Then, she flexed her claw-like nails and held the sharp point of her right index finger to Jada’s neck; Jada could tell this was a skilled killer, as the blade was right next to the main artery in the neck, where death would come most quickly.
Her mind raced to the days when she had been responsible for marketing her tribe’s blown glass bottles. What did she have to use to barter? Obviously, no amount of money was enough. Her tribe’s secret? Out of the question! She would sooner die than put the secret of explosives in the hands of this woman. Her life? Judith wouldn’t kill a potentially useful bartering chip, not just then.
Information. Judith wanted information, so Jada would give it to her.
“There is no way I’m going to give that to you,” Jada said calmly, almost serenely as she felt an increase of the pressure on her neck. “I have something better, though.”
“There isn’t anything better than the dishas!”
“What do you want to do with that information, anyway? Sell it? That’ll only give you more money,” Jada reasoned. “Use it? You’d have to let on the secret to someone else, and they could turn you in, and we could have a party in the afterlife, because death is the penalty for illicit weaponry; you know that. What is it that you really want?”
“That,” said Judith testily, “is none of your business.” Jada could tell, though, that Judith could see where this was going.
“I have another secret that can give you what you desire.” Now it was Jada who held Judith captive, despite the fetters and the finger-blade.
“What is this secret?”
“Release me and swear by whatever god you worship that you will not turn me in, and I’ll tell you,” Jada bargained.
“I swear it by Yonba,” Judith chimed, mesmerized. She took out the key to the chains and released Jada as Jada began to tell her of the Manicalise queen who was at this very moment pacing back and forth in her quarters several floors down.

Stefus, Norbert, Gawen, Lady Kessil and Lady Eirana were waiting for Jada in a private parlor of The Red Dragon when she finally limped in, dragging her possessions behind her. For once, Jada did not want to meet with them, did not want them to ask her where she’d been. She felt dirty from her act of betrayal, and she did not want to contaminate them.
“Where have you been?” Gawen asked her, seeing her haggard appearance.
“What have you been doing?” Kessil demanded, rushing to treat the bloody face and ankle.
Jada pushed her away, and ignored the questions.
“Keri, what--?”
“My name’s not Keri!”
“I know, but we have to be careful and all, what with others here.”
“They all know, the whole world knows! Or they should. The whole world should know what I am!” Her voice was hollow and cold, her eyes both dead and maniacal at the same time.
“Have you gone mad, Jada?” Gawen half-shouted.
“You know what? I think I have! Only a madwoman would do what I’ve done. Only a madwoman would empower others to prey on the innocent!”
“Jada, that was your brother, not you!”
“Are you sure of it?”
There was a deadly silence as Jada glared at them. She already felt guilty for yelling at her friends, but she was guilty enough for one act, why not add more?
Sir Norbert broke the silence with a sigh. “Stefus, reason with her; you’ve known her the longest of anyone here.”
“She doesn’t listen to me.”
“No, you don’t listen!” Jada rounded on him. “You keep on saying how you’re protecting me from the governments, and no doubt you’ve done a most excellent job at that, but can you protect me from myself? I don’t think so!”
She tore from the room, out the doors of the pub, and ran into the forest, back to the place where the meeting had been. She found the rock that marked the tunnel entry and had started to open it when she felt a gentle hand on her back. She reeled around to see Stefus, looking mournfully at her with his gold-brown eyes.
“What is it, Jada?” he said gently. “Something happened on the way back from the meeting; what was it?”
Jada looked away, a tear rolling down her cheek. She would leave Delixia forever, and go to Jegundo, where she would confess every crime and receive her punishment. She would die for what she’d done; it was better than she deserved.
“What is it?” he demanded, his voice firm now. “Look at me and tell me what happened.”
“I’ve done--” she gulped, “a terrible thing.” She told him what had transpired between her and Lady Judith. Stefus listened patiently, holding back his own questions about Alaviel actually being Queen of Manicolus. He was astonished, but kind.
“No harm or exposure has come from this act yet,” Stefus reminded her when the tale was done. “You can still right this wrong. There is still anza.”
“She’s Manicalise, though; she wouldn’t know what I was doing.”
“She’s a world leader. How would a world leader not know the basic customs of the Rashdans? I think you should go do anza tomorrow morning, before Judith has time to do anything with the information.”
“What good would that do? I might as well do what I’d planned to do in the first place and get properly punished by Jegundo instead of a humane beheading by such a noble personage.”
“You were actually planning to do that?” Stefus’s whispered hoarsely.
“I will yet,” Jada replied. “I deserve all the charges they put upon me. What I did was irredeemable. As were the acts of my brother, which I could have stopped.” She removed her cloak. “You’ll find hidden compartments sewn in--pages of notes, the secret of the dishas. Take it and burn it.” She held it out, her eyes intense
“Please--don’t. I--you---“ He stared at her intently for a moment, unable to speak, then he seemed to jerk himself out of his thoughts. “It was not your brother who took lives, it was the trigger-happy people under him,” Stefus reminded her. “He only used the dishas as threat and distraction. It was his followers who used them to kill. There’s nothing he or you could have done to stop them. Please, do not punish yourself for the acts of your family.”
“My own acts deserve such punishment.”
“It is but one act, Jada, and--” once again he found himself searching for words he could not find. “I don’t want you to do this. If you wish to dispose of yourself, do it honorably in the customs of our people, through anza.”
“But what of her choice? What if she lets me live?”
“Then live, Jada, live!” His voice cracked. Jada looked at him questioningly. “I thought I lost you once; I don’t want to go through that again. Follow the Rashdan laws, and live or die by that, but don’t make me sit twice through this!” He sighed, then caught himself. He looked down and said, “I apologize. I forget myself.” He gently took the cloak from her hands and put it once more around her shoulders.
Jada shook violently, then whispered, “At dawn I will go to Alaviel and perform anza. Should she decide against my life, take my body, including this cloak, and burn it. Give my chrys knife to Gawen; take the rest of my property for your tribe, except for compensation for Sir Norbert’s property loss.”
“Very well, then,” Stefus bowed, however shakily. “In Lr A’dl’s name, may it be sealed as a promise.” She bowed back. “Are you going to patch those up?” he asked, eyeing the cuts on her cheek and her blood-soaked ankle.
“No; why bother?”
“If you survive anza, the scars could be permanent if you don’t do something about it now.” He pulled out a damp rag he’d obviously brought from the pub and started to mop up the blood on her face.
“You’re such a good friend, Stefus,” Jada winced as he put salt into her wounds. “You’ll not catch me saying this again if I live through this, but thank you.” She gave him a painful smile.
He smiled back as they parted ways to return to their different masters. Neither of them slept that night; Jada, despite her promises to return to the pub, stayed in the woods all night, limping between the trees, thinking of how she would face the morning. Stefus tossed and turned, trying not to think of how he would face his mother if Jada lost anza.
The stars faded, and the sky began to lighten. Jada knelt on the hard earth and prayed to Lr A’dl to let justice be done, then made her way to Alaviel’s quarters.
She tapped the door cautiously. It opened, but only a crack.
“Keri,” Alaviel smiled. “What a pleasant surprise. I would let you in, but--”
“I know who you are,” Jada said quietly, her eyes downcast. “I suggest you let me in.”
Alaviel silently consented, surprised as Jada shut the door behind her and prostrated herself before Alaviel, and chanted:
“My neck is here for you to take
For I have done you evil.
By Lr A’dl for Lr A’dl’s sake,
Choose my life or death or what you will.”
Recognizing the words of anza, Alaviel chanted back:
“Enemy or friend like foe
What did you do?
This you must show.
Say all or none, but be well true.”
“My crime, your majesty, is treachery; I have revealed your identity to Lady Judith. She now knows that you are the Queen of Manicolus, and that you read the future in faces.
“My crime you have heard;
Make your choice.
Lr A’dl has last word,
But you have my voice.”
Jada set her ceremonial daggers in front of her on the ground and waited with bated breath. She had seen this done many times before, and she had seen people lose; it wasn’t a pretty sight. She could hear Alaviel pick up the daggers--any time now, she would feel them fall. Jada pressed her lips together, waiting for the end.
“I forgive you.”
Jada looked up in surprise as Alaviel tossed the daggers to her. They stood, buried sharply in the floor between them. Alaviel continued,
“By Lr A’dl, anza is done;
May our judgments be sound,
And fairness won.
May Lr A’dl bless everyone!”
Alaviel helped the astonished Jada to her feet, then picked up the daggers and handed them to her, smiling. Jada felt numb.
“Why?”
“Why did I forgive you?” Alaviel laughed; it was like the clinking of a crystal goblet against another. “Look at it this way: if Judith tried to make it public, who would believe her? As a precaution, though, I’ll head her off with my own persuasions.”
Jada realized that the Queen had a point here. “But Judith will find ways to use it to gain power!”
“I’ve got the power of Manicolus behind me,” Alaviel reminded her. She held out her hand. “It is better, I think, that you be alive to help me as I try to right the wrongs of my ancestors. From this day onward, if you accept, I will be your friend.”
Jada took the proffered hand and shook it slowly at first, then, so slowly, a smile broke the pervading gloom of her face as she pressed it firmly before letting go.

When she returned to the pub, Stefus was waiting outside the door, looking excited and relieved to see her. His falcon circled over his head, chirruping loudly. Night was gone completely, and now that the sky was light, the sun casting its brilliant shimmers over the lake, it seemed as if everything would be all right, at least for now.
He hugged her as soon as he saw her; he couldn’t help himself.
“Stefus, what’re you--?”
He quickly broke away. “Sorry,” he said, grinning. “But I think you might be a little less controlled than this if you saw your best friend safe and sound right after their being in mortal peril and all of that. So she forgave you?”
“Instantly.” She returned his grin.
“You must be hungry, then,” he said as the falcon landed on his shoulder and he opened the door to the pub for her. “You’re just in time for breakfast.”
“But you usually eat in the jengda commons, don’t you?”
“I belong to Eirana now; her food is way better,” he commented as he swung open the door to the same private parlor as the night before where the same people as before sat at the table.
“You look a fright, mayda,” Gawen said as he pulled a chair our for her. “Glad to see you, though; please, eat something.”
Jada realized how strange she must look, what with the twigs in her hair from her night in the forest and the scars across her cheek.
“Gawen, aren’t you supposed to be--?”
“I told Lady Isabelle I needed him for an emergency I was having,” Sir Norbert explained, buttering a piece of toast. “Got him out of a nasty morning’s work.”
Jada collapsed into her chair, dazed. It was all just too good to be true. “This can’t be real…” she said aloud. “I must be dreaming.”
“Oh, we’re quite real, I assure you,” Eirana said confidently. “Do have some toast; it looks like you haven’t eaten in quite a while.”
“Stefus didn’t tell us why you wanted to go running and throwing your life away, but he wanted us to be together when we found out the result of anza,” Kessil explained. “We want you to know that we’re your family.”
There was a silence.
Jada broke down into tears. “You--you are my family? I love you--love you all.”
“It’s okay, Jada!” Sir Norbert intoned. “Calm down and eat something! Now,” he added in a businesslike fashion, “we’ve decided not to scratch your original identity--too complicated. I will introduce you as my new assistant in class today.”
“But I’ve had no time to prepare!”
“You’ll be fine,” Sir Norbert assured her. “It’s all extremely basic, just do what I say, and it will be all right. Lady Eirana, you’ve been in my classes before; how hard is it?”
“Your advanced mind penetration class is extremely hard,” Eirana said slowly, “but all the rest are nearly moronic. Seeing as Sir Ziro, Sir Alfonso, and I are the only ones in that class, I would say it tips the scale towards pathetically easy.”
“Sir Ziro? The weapons master?” Jada queried, surprised. Lady Eirana blushed. “I can’t demonstrate mind penetration with him in the room; if Lady Judith could read the runes on my knives, so could he.”
“But he hasn’t said anything yet.”
“That’s because he doesn’t want to be hauled off to an insane asylum,” Healer Kessil informed them. “His enthusiasm combined with his taste for weaponry cause people to be worried about his sanity. I will remain as your healer, by the way,” Kessil added, “and Sir Norbert has agreed to pick up the tab, as he predicts a sharp rise in occupational hazards.”
“Ah, occupational hazards,” Jada grinned. “Now we’re talking. I’ve been looking for something to do with fifty pounds of gunpowder and an assortment of dishas.”
“Can you have an act ready by next week?”
“I’ll perform tonight, if you’d like. I can have something more…complicated ready in a month or two with a full cast and Stefus’s help. I’ve been writing something, and I think it’s time I tried it out.”
“Eirana, can you spare Stefus for a month or two?”
“I think so,” Eirana shrugged, smiling. “On the condition that you give me free access to your card parlors to talk to you all for the next few months.”
“Where do I get a choice in this?”
“I’m your master, Stefus, so by law I don’t have to give you one. I’m nice enough to do so, but do you really want to turn it down?”
“Well, no--”
“Then we’ve got it! Jada and Stefus will be the new entertainment staff.”
“I’ll need Gawen’s help, too; I’ve taught him things even Stefus doesn’t know,” Jada said thoughtfully. “He would be invaluable.”
“I’m not valuable?”
“Study your vocab!”
Gawen frowned, then light dawned. “Oh yes,” he said quickly, “I would enjoy being your assistant. And when I wasn’t being your assistant or if you got mad at me, I could bus tables in the restaurant. I can cook, too; I’m pretty good at it.”
“Gawen, let me talk for you before you talk yourself out of it,” Jada growled. “Leave words like ‘assistant’ out of it, as Stefus has seniority over you.”
“Where do I get a choice in this?” It was Sir Norbert speaking this time, but comically. “I’ll buy the little jester off Lady Isabelle; but that’s all! I can’t afford to hire anyone new after this unless you two actually help my profits. If your scheme doesn’t succeed, it’s back to University service for both of you!”
“Oh, don’t you worry,” Jada said with a smirk. “When I’m through with this, your pub will go down in history as the greatest not just in Delixia, but in all of D’nal.”

Lady Judith sat in the Prankster’s Roost that evening, gleeful as a jengda with silky brown hair entered and bowed. “You requested me, my lady?” Alaviel queried. “I’m guessing you wish to speak with me in a private parlor.”
“You are right indeed,” Lady Judith replied, slightly deflated by Alaviel’s ease in her presence. They sat down at a table in a deserted room. There was a pause as Judith regained her bearings. “So,” she began smoothly, “I happen to know some of your little secrets.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Telepathy, thought Judith, making a mental note to practice shutting her mind.
“It doesn’t work like that,” Alaviel commented, looking Judith directly in the eyes. “I have to be looking at you for it to work.”
“Why would someone as smart as you tell me something like that and thus empower me?”
“You were going to look it up this evening after talking to me anyways,” Alaviel shrugged, “so I figured I’d save you the time.”
“So how do you know?”
“A lizard told me,” Alaviel replied smoothly. “I believe you’re supposed to address me as ‘Your Majesty,’ or do you believe that you are above me?”
“I hold your identity hostage, as well as your lover--I can destroy him easily.”
“So much as touch him, and you will automatically experience more pain than seventy pounds of girca powder can produce,” Alaviel said almost sweetly. “He’s under royal protection, as is our mutual traitor.”
“Mutual traitor?”
“Tell me that you are not so dull as to think she only betrayed me. She’s too decent to let a wrong go undressed, not even one she committed herself. She has rather old-fashioned values about that.”
“I don’t have to lay a hand on her to make her life exceedingly painful,” Judith hissed. “Or on Alfonso. I believe both of them are guilty of treason against the High Court, if my spies tell me true. All it takes is one word, and they’re both at the gallows or, in Jada’s case, worse.”
“All it takes is a tip of my hand into your cup as I serve your drink to end your life with girca, and should that fail,” she smirked, “none of your weapons or poisons can stop the sepulchral silence I can invoke.”
“You’re too decent to do that,” Lady Judith shrugged. “And killing me would give you no satisfaction if your subjects already knew what you were doing and your people were in prison. You know what I want.”
“You’re not getting it. Not all of it, anyway. I can, however, give you this,” Alaviel said as she handed Judith a sealed envelope. Judith hungrily broke the seal and read it; her eyes widened. “I’m sure there’s plenty of people who will give you power for that.”
“We have a deal,” Judith grinned. “You have been a fool, but a fool who pleases me.”
“The game has just begun.”

A mere stroll from this scene Stefus was entering the Red Dragon, feeling good to be getting to his first production meeting with Jada and Gawen early enough to eat some supper after the long ordeal of the previous night. He opened the handsomely carved doors of the pub (he often wondered why such a fine establishment was still referred to as a pub and not some more befitting name, like a dinner theatre) and seated himself at the bar, having ordered some bread and Rashdan tea which he found annoyingly overpriced due to the tariffs on Rashdan goods. As the barmaid served these to him, he looked up at the stage opposite the bar, and was amazed.
Jada had definitely cleaned up since the night before. Her disguise pieces had been redone, her new scars hidden well beneath her stage makeup. She had swapped her jengda tunic for an orange silk one that trailed gracefully below her as she glided in the air, unsupported by anything the eye could see, singing and whimsically moving orbs of brightly blown glass around her.
As the song ended, she landed softly, wincing almost imperceptibly as her injured foot touched the ground, and bowed as applause and cheering commenced. “Now, would anyone here like to dance?” She called. More applause. “Then come up here and dance!” With that, she picked up several instruments--a drum, a tambourine, and an oboe--and started to play them, and one wondered how she could be playing them all at once until it was seen that she was making them play of their own accord, and Jada herself had descended into the audience and, grinning, pulled a pair here, a pair there up onto the stage until it was filled with turning, twirling people. Then she saw Stefus, and, without any warning whatsoever, pulled him up on stage, too.
“Having a good time, aren’t you?” he asked her above the noise as they spun around each other. “I don’t see what you need me for with all of this!”
“I’m not dancing alone right now, as you can see,” she replied. “A one-woman show is not nearly as good as a full cast, and a review is not as fun as a show with a plot.”
“That is true,” he smiled, giving her a twirl with a flourish of the hands. “How on D’nal are you keeping up concentration on your instruments while you’re dancing over here and having a conversation all at the same time?”
“I’ll expect no less of you by the time I’m through with you,” she shrugged. “Let’s do a lift.”
“You don’t need me to do that,” he scoffed. “You can fly.”
“No, silly, I’ll lift you,” she said. The music swelled, and Stefus found himself suspended over her head with balance he knew was not his. He found the sensation rather disturbing as she leveled him back to the ground. Hoots and cheers erupted all over the pub. “Fun, isn’t it?”
“Disturbingly,” he said. “Never do that to me without proper warning ever again.”
“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “Next time you’re up here, you’ll be supporting your own weight flying.”
“I can’t do that!” he grumbled. “I never was a real performer; I was playing the music others danced to, not doing the dancing. I was the one who made sure people did the right thing at the right time. I’m no actor!”
“I’ll cure you of that,” Jada quirked an eyebrow infuriatingly.
As the music quickened for the climax, Stefus threw her into a one-hand aerial handstand, marveling at how impossible this move had been for him when his mayda had attempted to teach him how to dance--his hard work had definitely paid off. As the music wound down, he took her into a dip.
Staring up at him as the audience applauded, she commented, “Even if you’re no actor, you’re not a bad dancer--better than me on the ground.”
“You’re better than me in the air.”
“Then I’ll teach you to fly, and you’ll teach me how to work with the ground.”
They broke the position and she bowed to the pub, saying, “Come back tomorrow night!” as she left the stage and took Stefus to a private parlor and closed the door. “This room isn’t the ideal height for flying lessons, but as it’s your first, you shouldn’t have too much trouble with the ceiling.”
“What? You’re teaching me here? Now?”
“Yes,” Jada said. “There’s a lot to do, and not all of it for the show.”
He stared at her for a moment, then blinked. “What do you have in mind?”
She was silent for some time, lost in thought. Then, she suddenly asked, “What do you intend to do when I no longer need protecting?”
Taken aback, he answered, “I hadn’t really thought about it. Return to my tribe, I guess.”
“I see,” she mused. “You’ll return to your tribe, and the jengda will still be here. They will still be illiterate, abused, and destined to a hopeless future. But then,” she continued, “if I do it right, they won’t be. They’ll be free and happy--you’ll be free, too. I will not need protecting then.”
Remembering Jada’s look on her face from before she went to perform anza, he queried, “And why will that be so?”
“You will know that in good time--I’ll not tell you that now. Later, though. For now, I need you to relax and let go of the ground--you cannot learn to fly until you let go of the ground.”
“You cannot learn to walk until you accept the ground.”
“To fly, you have to accept it and let it go; if you deny its existence, it will painfully remind you of itself, kind of like Lr A’dl.”
He stared at her. “How am I supposed to do that?”
She laughed and stretched out her arm. “It’s hard to teach this verbally. I know you don’t like the mind-magic, but it’s the best way to do this. I promise not to pry into your thoughts and only share the mindset of flying.”
He winced. “If it’s the only way to learn. . .” He touched her fingers and had the oddest sensation of both being himself and looking at himself at the same time. It hurt to wrap his mind around how this was possible.
“Sorry,” Jada apologized, “for any discomfort you may be feeling. The first time you do this, it can be painful.”
“I’ve done it before,” he said, “but not with double vision. Why am I looking through your eyes?”
“I want you to be able to see the way you move, while still being able to look through your own eyes,” she explained. “Now, be quiet: it’s hard to concentrate and talk at the same time.”
He obliged, and through his fingertips he felt a oneness with his surroundings--with the air, with gravity, with the ground. Somehow, they seemed to become a part of him, and he--no, this was Jada’s mind he was experiencing, he reminded himself--was able to control them, because they were a part of him. He felt himself rise a few inches off the ground, then land back on his feet.
Jada withdrew her hand. “That’s how it works,” she said.
“Is that how it works with the mind-magic, too?” he asked. “Does the other person’s mind become a part of you?”
Jada hesitated. “In a way, yes. You have to accept them. But accepting the other person’s mind is not enough; you have to love them. Love is what makes any sort of magic work in our world. What you just experienced was a love of flying, a love and respect of the ground, air, and gravity. It is no coincidence that Lr A’dl’s name is love--being love, He is all-powerful.”
“Then why did you doubt His love such a short time ago?”
Jada sat down and sighed. “Because I do not think myself worthy of it. Even now, I highly doubt it. The queen may have forgiven me, but that doesn’t erase what I did. In the end, I will pay for it, and I will give that payment gladly.”
“Is this all part of the plan you refuse to tell me about?” he queried. “Because if it is, it doesn’t sound like you’re thinking much differently than you were last night.”
“It’s true,” she chuckled sadly. “I guess it may turn out to look that way in the end, but I hope you do not see it that way when it comes. Some of the same motivations are there, yes, but there are others; I was selfish last night to not think of our brethren of the Council.”
“The Rashdan Council?”
“The Council of Oak Rock Forest.”
“How would you being dead help them at all?” Stefus admonished her. “I’ve studied military history, and every campaign in the history of D’nal that has failed has failed from either bad leadership or no leadership. I know you hate to hear it, but you’re their leader.”
“I wouldn’t be doing this right away,” Jada informed him. “That’s why I have a plan. Do you think you could lead them?”
“Me?” Stefus paused to think about it. “I don’t know. You’re the teacher--as students, they naturally follow you. I’ve taught them, but I don’t think they would rally around me as they rally around you.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” She held out her hand again. “We’ve gotten off topic. Now, show me what it’s like to fly.”
He was surprised to find that, without any help from Jada, he actually managed a few inches. Something was bothering him, though.
“If love is what makes magic work, how do so many people use magic for wrong?”
Jada winced. “I knew you were going to ask that.” She stroked her face where, Stefus knew, scars were hidden under the makeup. It took her awhile to reply. “The flip side of love is not hatred, as many believe, but indifference. Indifference can’t power anything. Hatred, though, is very powerful. The main difference between love and hate is that while love is a concentrated wish for the best for someone or something, hatred is a concentrated wish against something or someone.”
“So. . .all the magical power I’ve ever seen you or any of the mages do are controlled by nothing but emotions?”
“Neither love nor hate are emotions; they are decisions, even if they are decisions heavily influenced by emotion. Most people let their emotions decide for them, but that sort of lack of discipline is what causes so many problems in our world today. You are the master of your own emotions; you cannot change what happens, but you can change your attitude towards what happens. Once you can control what is within you, you can better control what is outside of you.”
“You’re starting to sound like Wylth.”
“I learned everything I know from him, my father, and my brother--Wylth taught me the fundamentals, though. I’d had some knowledge of some parlor tricks before I studied with him, but he made me actually understand it. Didn’t you just pay him a visit not long ago?”
“Yes,” Stefus said. “I was delivering our monthly payment to the temple in Clevia, and he was there to receive it. He took me aside and we had a drink while he filled me in on the latest news from Jegundo.” He hesitated.
“Well, what news?”
“Even though most of the officials think you’re dead or not worth pursuing, there’s one investigator, a Sir Shath, who thinks you are. He’s been to Dratzim, trying to track down where you fled after your tribe was attacked--he even questioned Dashad Riya Dru, but of course he didn’t want to admit that he’d lost to you. He’s enlisted Tartath as his right-hand man.”
Jada frowned. “I thought Tartath was working on a girca farm.”
“It’s been sold to Dashad Riya Dru; there was a big scandal about it, having a Rashdan tribe farm for the High Court. Up until now, the Council and the Court have been independent of each other, and now they fear that since the head of the Council is now working for the Court, Rashdans will lose their freedoms as a separate government.”
“Where is this investigator now?”
“They’ve been combing the desert; no one in Dratzim or Folona wants to talk, so you’re safe for now. If Lady Judith says anything, though, you could be in major trouble.”
“Major trouble, eh?” Jada sighed. “It seems I’m always in major trouble. For the present moment, I’m too much of a good bargaining chip for Judith to cash me in just now, but that may change. She tends to think only of the immediate gain, but I think I’ve gotten her to realize that if she wants her long-range goals achieved, she’ll need me around just a little while longer.”
“What are her goals, anyway?” Stefus wondered. “I know she has a lot of power over both nobles and commoners alike, but why she is amassing this power is beyond me.”
“She wants the Desca Isles,” Jada replied. “She is a descendant of the last native ruler of them.”
Stefus whistled. Everyone knew that the Desca Isles contained the most valuable good for any country: dentra. Dentra, a magic-enhancing herb, was what kept every major mage alive in the entire world; it was the main ingredient in mirkith, which was not only useful for inducing helpful visions, but for putting the mind in the focused, relaxed state necessary to perform magic. Until dentra was discovered, it was nearly impossible to do mind-magic without years and years of frustration. With the discovery of dentra, the entire world’s technology made a sudden leap.
“How does she think she’s going to get it from Tre-revaj’s grasp if the Rashdans haven’t?” He asked. “It’s been under their rule longer than Yaylithe has.”
“As you’ve said, she’s grown very powerful. She’s been maneuvering for years, putting her cards in place for when she’ll make the final move, sort of like what Alaviel’s doing, except I don’t think we really want someone as power-hungry as Lady Judith controlling the most valuable commodity in the known world; I would rather see them become an independent democracy.”
“You would like to see the whole world be a democracy,” he laughed. “You’re not done fixing Yaylithe, remember? You can fix the Desca Isles when you’re done with Yaylithe.”
“And if I die in the process of fixing Yaylithe?”
Stefus frowned. “You’re always talking about death,” he said. “Have you ever considered following that future you dreamed about? The one about going to Folona and keeping your tribe alive?”
“My visions tell me otherwise.”
Stefus slowly sat down by the table in the parlor. “They’re from mirkith, right? Tell me about them. Those have been misinterpreted before.”
Jada sat down next to him and gazed off into the distance. “Lr A’dl spoke directly to me.”
Stefus raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You mean, not just in images? He spoke in words?”
“Yes, in words,” Jada answered, “though they were almost as confusing as the images.”
“Well, what did He say?”
Jada’s eyes flickered as she remembered the vision she’d had that night after she’d recounted the history of the Rashdans to Gawen and Stefus. “I will guide you if you follow me.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“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.”
“But what did you see?”
Jada bit her lip. “My brother--dead, of course. I was performing something, and arrested on stage. I also saw you, and Alaviel--”
“Doing what?”
“Looking extremely unhappy, for one thing...both of you took my hand, and--” she glanced at him, then quickly looked away. “There was more pain than I have ever experienced.”
Stefus pressed his fingertips to his forehead. “Pain can mean just about anything, in this world we live in, but very little out there can be much worse than some of what I’ve seen you go through. Girca poisoning, maybe.”
“What a comfort you are,” Jada remarked sarcastically. “And you say I’m a pessimist?”
“Sorry, I’m just trying to be helpful in interpreting your vision. Did Lr A’dl say anything else?”
“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.”
“Well, that’s comforting. I tell you, Jada, are you sure you didn’t just make this up to frustrate me?” He used a deadpan tone of voice, with no expression. Jada recognized it as the one he used whenever he was in denial of something.
“I swear upon my brother’s grave that it was as I spoke it,” Jada replied.
Seeing the exhausted, frustrated look on his face--expressed in subtleties of the facial muscles no urtyu could pick up immediately, but apparent to Jada--she suddenly realized all the trouble she’d put him through in the last few days and reflected that this was definitely not the best timing for dropping the contents of her vision on his shoulders. She also, in this moment, discovered something growing inside her that she did not want to admit was there--was he not in her vision, after all?
As soon as she saw it, though, she knew she had to let it be, to let go of it. Besides, she herself had said that it was a decision, not an emotion.
This all was in a split second, after which she continued in a soothing tone of voice, “Lr A’dl never said that this was definitely what was going to happen, only that it may happen; he also promised rest, which all of us can use. Let us not worry too early about the foggy views of the future; instead, let us get to work on our show.” She paused for a moment, then added, “When was the last time you went to a good party?”
Stefus laughed. “Quite a while.”
“Then I suggest that you go to the Festival of Yonba next week, and have a good time,” Jada chuckled. “You need to have more fun, my friend.”
“Duty’s more important than fun,” said Stefus. “Who am I to have fun while there’s work to do?”
“Consider it a part of your work, then,” Jada smiled. “I command you to go to the festival and have a good time.”
“Yes, Jada.”
“And make sure Gawen shows up, too.”
“Yes, Jada.”
“And start dressing better.”
“Yes, Jada,” he grinned. “Come now, am I really that shabby?”
“You have no idea. I’ll give Eirana money to pick out something tasteful.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Stefus muttered. “I’m no beggar.”
“Consider it my thanks for, let’s see, what’s the phrase you use? ’Being my protector,’” Jada said. “After the week I’ve put you through, you deserve it.”
“Yes, Jada,” he grinned all the more mischievously as he exited out the door.
Jada could hear definite whistling as his steps faded away.

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.