Story 8
The copper-curled merchant was carefully unloading her wares, making sure not to crack the fragile glass ornaments as she set them on the display table. When she finished, she stand back with a satisfied smile on her face. All of a sudden, the crash and tinkle of fallen wares and broken glass ornaments from the next room intruded upon her happiness. Her smile turned into a frown, and the young adult, perhaps twenty years of age, seemed to seethe with fury as she stalked over.
In the next room was a girl in her early teens or pre-teens standing defiantly over a pile of broken china and cracked merchandise. "It's not my fault this time." Her straight auburn hair was neatly pulled back with a navy blue ribbon, and her crisp blue smock and clean white apron contrasted to the older girl's plain gray dress.
"If it's not your fault, then how did these wares tumble to the floor?" the older girl questioned, pointing to the aforementioned pile. Her foot tapped with impatience, as she looked over the younger girl with something akin to exasperation. "And did I or did I not tell you to put on work clothes for the unloading of these wares?"
"It's not my fault that they were greasy," the younger girl said sullenly. "And I told you before—I'm never going to put on those tasteless rags you call my 'work clothes'!" Her eyes flashed with the indignation of being forced to wear anything less than fine silk and crushed velvet, and perhaps cashmere and muslin, depending on the style and color of the cloth.
Her voice bordering on irritation, the older girl spoke. "Moraine Ukovitch, you are no longer a rich noble. You may have been countess in your time, but now you are apprenticed to a merchant, and you would do well not to forget that."
"Why, Zana?" Moraine asked, poised for an argument. "I have been apprenticed to you for a year, and yet all you have shown me so far is how to meditate, which is something for mages; not for me. If I were a mage, I wouldn't be saddled with you. I would be living comfortably as a countess, not cheated out of my title by an illegitimate half-brother. Instead, I am forced to do menial labor to get by, and my once fantastic wardrobe has been reduced to not a single silken or velvet accessory, but linen! Linen dresses are fit for commoners!"
"Get this through your hardheaded skull, Moraine," Zana hissed. "You are a commoner now! And no amount of caterwauling and sulking will get you your comfy position back. The only reason I accepted you at all was out of the kindness of my heart, because your 'illegitimate half-brother,' who is now a rather competent Count of Reno, didn't want you to grow up homeless and out in the streets. You have cost me a lot of money, with your finicky tastes and clumsy hands, dropping so much merchandise it's impossible to count. I've never beaten you, and I've never been mean to you on purpose—I've only kept rein on my temper with a lot of patience. But I'm warning you, you are testing my limits! If you complain to me one more time about your aversion for linen dresses or your desire to have some quails' eggs, I will throw away all your dresses and give you only the one your wear now, to wear for the rest of your life, and I will make you buy your own food with money you have earned selling wares!"
Moraine wisely kept her mouth shut.
"That's better. You better sweep up the broken pieces," Zana said, turning away to head back to the other room. The girl sullenly did so.
~*~
The dark-skinned girl used her tools and the heat of the forge to shape her hinge so it was perfect in every way. All of a sudden, a loud screech from upstairs interrupted her conversation, causing her to drop her hinge, ruining the work. Frowning, the girl sighed, put down her now-ruined hinge, leaving it as scrap metal, and headed upstairs.
A younger girl with the same dark skin and hair looked ready to fly into a rage. Her Trader staff was in her hand. "You didn't tell me you had a Trader staff," she accused, pointing to the tall mahogany one that had been formerly hidden by metal objects.
The tall girl sighed. "Was there any need to, Liata?"
"Yes," Liata scowled. "I may only have been your apprentice for a month, but I have seen enough to know that you are not a Trader, so what is a kaq like you doing with such an elaborate staff?"
Sighing, the tall girl pulled out her staff and leaned on it, as she was accustomed to doing when particularly stressed. "If your family gave you to me knowing I would do well for you, then why should you worry?"
"Because someone with a staff who is not of the Tsaw'ha and doesn't even speak our language is suspicious. You must have killed a Trader. Kaq!" Liata's face had become ugly, and her mood a bit irrational
"It does not matter to you how I came by my staff. I would never kill anyone, much less one of the Tsaw'ha, and if your parents chose to apprentice you to a lugsha before they died, the least you can do is respect their decision. You know nothing about me, so you have no right to judge me. And for the last time, I am Jade, not 'kaq.'"
Liata scowled, and her eyes narrowed at Jade's easy use of the Trader language. "Who are you to talk? If you were one of the Tsaw'ha, you would know how degrading it is to be a l-, an artisan, someone not even worth mentioning. But you know nothing of my culture, do you," she said, muttering the last part under her breath. "At the very least, I am not trangshi."
Jade suppressed an exasperated sigh and turned away. She moved to go back downstairs and see how much she could repair the damaged hinge. "Don't forget to meditate," she called over her shoulder. That was, after all, the entire reason Liata had been in the upstairs room in the first place.
"I don't want to," Liata said sulkily, but a reminder that it was either meditation or manual labor, she resigned herself to the most boring bit of exercise she had ever done, something this Jade-person liked to call "meditation."
~*~
"You paid too much for this," a young man with sandy blonde hair and green eyes stated firmly. "It isn't worth it, and you don't know how much longer we can last on this income."
The petite girl sighed. "Whatever you say, O Masterful Merchant, but I think I can handle it quite well, thank you." She refrained from adding a sarcastic "as I am the one who holds the moneypurse, not you."
"I'm from the Needler House of Merchants, related to Merchant Houses in every which way," he informed her, with something akin to wistfulness, "and I know these things better than you do." There was a yearning on his face, because after his parents had tragically died, leaving him a bereft orphan, the Needler House to which he belonged to (which had come very close to disowning his father for marrying his mother) had tried to get rid of him as quickly as possible.
"But you don't know thread better than me," the girl reminded him. "I know what customers want, and I know what customers need. This thread is of the finest quality, and it was really being sold at a bargain price, considering that it is imported from across the _____ Sea*. So stop your griping, Travis. I am the one who's paying for it, not you."
"It's just too bad that my family did not think I was worth the trouble to train," Travis said bitterly. "I could have been a credit to them as I am to you."
His guardian of sorts (more like an ultra-nice older sister) smiled affectionately at him. "Well, I for one am glad I have you along."
Travis grinned slyly. "So if I'm such a credit to you, Lena, then I'm sure you love me so much you'd be willing to let me attend the Carnival this afternoon."
"Have you finished all of your chores?" Lena wanted to know.
"Most of them," he hedged. "I just haven't done my daily bit of meditation yet."
"Then do it now," Lena said. "And then you can play with your little friends at the Carnival."
Knowing that this was the best deal he would get, he left Lena in peace to continue her beautiful weaving.
~*~
The night was silent, as nights are apt to be, and there was no moon. There stood a young girl (who was so small and slender she looked to be barely older than eight, despite the wisdom in her eyes) with chocolate brown curls hastily pulled back into what passed for a ponytail.
Meanwhile, a black-haired boy (almost a man) with gray-green eyes leapt through the window nimbly, and looked at the patron. A couple of blinks revealed to him that the man was a Dedicate of Winding Circle, one he had not previously met. On the table was a beautifully-calligraphic note which stated merely: Your term is up. Lark is gravely ill. Tell the others.
The boy stood still for a minute, reflecting on what was written in between the lines, and wondering at some things that he did not comprehend. Finally, sighing, he turned around and headed back out the window. After all, it wasn't good taste to rob the messenger.
"Well?" the girl asked when he finally made his way down the vine again.
"Nothing of value," the boy said firmly.
"That's a load of turds," she said, glaring at him. "He was plenty rich." Although Briar had strange moods where he visited certain houses over and over again, and muttered something about "nothing of value" afterwards, it had always been at certain times, and somewhat of a constant. He had never entered an obviously-rich Bag's house and walked out empty-handed.
"This is a boarding house, Leaf," he explained. "The room I entered belonged to a proper person, probably someone being sponsored."
Leaf did not believe him for one minute. "Yeah, right," she grumbled, but she said no more for she had no proof that he was wrong.
Roach rolled his eyes, and affected a Bag-tone. "Yes, I know. I am right," he pretended to say snootily. "Always respect your elders."
Leaf chose the moment to whack him on the head, and chased merrily …
"…all the way home."**
~*~
Sandry! Tris! Daja!
Briar?
What's going on?
I just woke up.
Lark's ill.
That's not funny.
Yeah.
She is. And our term is up, so we can accompany her last moments I we hurry … unlike …
With Rosethorn? Briar, you have to get over it..
How long does she have, Briar? Long enough for us to make it.
I dunno. I just got the one note, and it said that our term was up, that Lark was ill, and that I was to tell you.
Sometimes I wonder why in the world we decided to do this.
For fun?
We decided to go into years of isolation and accept new charges who have absolutely no control over their magic for fun? Please tell me I wasn't always this insane.
For the prestige?
You guys may have done it for that, but 'prestige' is a Bag-thing. Doesn't apply to me.
Nor me. I did it for the knowledge.
Figures you would, Tris.
I did!
We did it because our teachers said it was a good idea?
Teachers? Rosethorn's dead and Lark's sick. Rosethorn was sick before we left, but we didn't think it was serious … We've never made a habit of listening to teachers before. What made us start now? When Rosethorn needed us most?
Um, I hate to break up this poignant conversation, but I'm afraid that my charge is …levitating again. If I don't move to take care of her, she's going to get a concussion when she falls to the floor.
Okay. See ya.
Bye.
Bye.
~*~
"We're leaving," Zana said flatly. She did not have an altogether pleasant relationship the ex-Countess, and she really did not need to deal with this right now. She had finished her two years of isolation, completed her Projects, and achieved, in every meaning of the word, her Robes. Now she had to go back and deal with a dead Rosethorn, an ill Lark, a retired Niko, an abandoned Discipline, and a comatose Frostpine.
"Why?" Moraine asked, surprised. Zana was never this firm or this lethargic. Not lethargic, but lacking the sharpness she usually possessed, only dull flatness left behind.
"Because of a certain death," Zana said carefully. She did not mean for Moraine to find out about the situation too soon. She might go into shock and keel over and die, which would solve her problems but if she allowed Moraine to die, Sandry would be on her back for the rest of her life.
"Where are we going?" Moraine asked next. She had a feeling it wasn't the best idea to provoke Zana right now.
"Emelan," Zana said shortly, and would say nothing more..
Moraine was startled. I have kin there. Surely they will help me! How could her kin not help her? Surely they would realize that she was noble and good enough to be true Countess, instead of having that … imperialistic half-brother assume the lordship of the place. Or was that the terminology? It did no matter. No one beat her. She may have been hesitant about accepting the position before, but now that her brother had snatched out from underneath her very nose, she was determined to snatch it back.
~*~
"We are leaving for Emelan tomorrow," Jade said firmly, her tone brooking no room for argument. "We will be traveling with some friends of mine. When we arrive in Emelan, I will speak o you further of my plans.
Liata was accustomed to a more pliant Jade, one who was always tolerant of her sometimes petulant whining, if sometimes thoroughly exasperated. Jade had never been so unreceptive to comment before. Liata was unsure of how to view this new side of Jade, and instead focused her attention on something else. "Friends? Not more lugsha?" she demanded. She took care to speak the Trader language whenever she could, taking satisfaction from Jade's ignorance of the language.
First, there was a silence. Then Jade looked at Liata with steel in her eyes. "I do not care how much you miss your old way of life. You are no longer a Trader. As a matter of fact, you are one of the lugsha you so hate, and it would do you well to remember that. In Emelan, no one will care if you used to be daughter of a most prosperous trade caravan. You are a metalworker's apprentice, and that is all they will see. Do not antagonize those who would have done you well."
Liata nodded. Whenever Jade grew too upset at her mannerisms, she toned them down a bit, not out of respect or fear, but out of expedience.
"And we will be traveling with Trader Polyam and her caravan," Jade finished, before turning to leave.
~*~
Leaf had learned something over the years. When Roach told you to do something, you did it. Roach may have been very odd at times, prone to spending more time around plants than people, and visiting odd people at night, only to return to nothing, but he was the best thief she knew. He had, somehow, managed to get clothes that didn't even whisper when he walked, which pointed towards acquaintance with mages, and when put to the test, he could put on an accent as posh as a Bag's. And he always knew when someone was coming. Always. At least, when he was around plants.
Leaf had noticed that, his affinity with plants and how he always carried some herbs around with him.
Either way, Leaf respected Roach, and knew to follow orders and not ask questions when he said something in that faraway voice of his, that said that something important was going to happen. So when he said in that faraway voice that they were leaving from Emelan, Leaf knew better than to question him, although her curiosity itched like a flea on a dog. She knew she would get answers later. Somehow.
~*~
"What do you mean, we're going to Emelan?" Travis almost exploded. "But I have friends here. I have a life here! I don't want to give it all up because you decided to move on a whim. Besides, we don't have the funds for such a trip."
"As a matter of fact," Lean said briskly, "we do." Her hands were still weaving, even as her eyes moved to glare at Travis. "And as I am the one in charge of the moneypurse, I think I should know. As for you friends, you can always make new ones in Emelan. And you know that I don't approve of the ones you have now." Her brow creased.
Travis hesitated, knowing that his friends weren't a good topic of conversation, seeing as Lena disliked them because their rowdy behavior often ended in delinquent activities. "But why are we going to Emelan?" he asked plaintively. He had known Lena for an exceptionally long time, ever since she first moved to this town, and she had never made an irrational behavior before.
Lena's finger faltered for a moment in their weaving, but just a moment. "The respite's up, and it's time for certain debts to be paid," she said, citing the aboriginal proverb cryptically. "And shoo. It's time for your daily meditation."
Travis groaned, knowing he would get no more out of Lena, and stalked off.
But the carpet would forever bear a tiny invisible irregularity for the single faltering moment.
~*~
Zana was in a very unhappy mood. It was raining, her hair was wet (and she knew that when she dried it out by the fire, it would smell funny for days), her clothes were wet (the smell of wet wool drying by the fire was also nose-curdling), and she was completely and utterly soaked. She tucked a soggy copper curl behind her ear and walked to the somewhat more sheltered cart that her "apprentice" sat in.
Moraine was scowling. Although she was nowhere near as wet as Zana, her skirts with all of their (plain) flounces were soaked, and she was shivering. Her long auburn hair (her pride and joy) was mussed up. "We could have ridden a coach," she informed Zana. "That way neither you nor I would have gotten wet."
"No, we couldn't have," Zana sighed, resigned to explaining it to Moraine again. "We don't have the money. You're lucky I took pity on you and let you sit here instead of making you walk."
"In the rain," Moraine scoffed. "You must be kidding. We Ukovitchs don't walk in the rain. We ride up high."
"You know what," Zana sighed, biting her lip to keep from telling Moraine just what she thought of her complaints. "I'm beginning to regret taking you in. I think I will go with my decision to leave you at Winding Circle Temple after all. They don't care as much about rank there, not in the circles you'd be circulating."
"The famous Winding Circle would never accept me as a tutee," Moraine sighed, somewhat wistfully. They had been about to send her Winding Circle Temple to receive more of an education and a margin of control over the innate talent that all Ukovitch's had. It wasn't enough to need to be trained, but it needed to be mastered at the least. Then, of course, her half-brother had come. "I don't even have a respectable guardian."
"Well, Moraine, you may regret going to Winding Circle," Zana said. "But that's where you're going to end up, because I'll be too busy in Emelan to take proper care of you."
"Really?" Moraine asked, somewhat astonished. "I'll get to consort with nobles again." She had been raised on tales of the Winding Circle Temple and its piety and gaiety. Her nurse had been an advocate of Winding Circle.
"Whether they want to consort with you is another matter," Zana muttered underneath her breath. Normally, she would have lost control and yelled at Moraine at some point, but Moraine's magic was somewhat of a peculiar one, and did not need to be provoked.
~*~
Liata scowled fiercely. Although she had looked forward to traveling with the caravan, everyone had shrunk away when they arrived, like they were trangshi. The only one who spoke to them was Polyam, but she was busy all day riding horses and taking care of them. Besides, she had a huge scar on her face, and was probably bad luck. However, Jade freely conversed with Polyam, which drove Liata crazy. Why could Jade get answers out of the Tsaw'ha when she, herself could only get a simple yes or no.
The drizzling hail felt like peas falling on her curls, but she was determined to at least prove herself by staying out here, instead of hiding inside like child.
"And so they raised me up to horse trader again," Polyam was telling Jade. In common talk. Of course. Jade didn't understand the language of the Traders, which was fine with her.
"How did you get that?" Liata asked impudently, pointing to Polyam's scar, in Trader talk, knowing full well that Jade didn't understand. She wanted to ask about Polyam's peculiar hand as well, but found that she was too scared to.
"I-" Polyam broke off. "Ask Jade," she said in common talk. "She herself played a part in it, whether she's willing to tell you or not."
Liata scowled, before going back to check on the wares. Oh well. Maybe she did have something to do. Puzzle out how Polyam knew Jade so well.
~*~
Roach frowned, his gray-green eyes narrowed. He and Leaf traveled by night, which certainly didn't ease things in this snow, but this caravan looked familiar even in the dark. "Stay here," he ordered Leaf. He snuck up, wondering if there was anything good to eat.
As he crept into he caravan, he saw a bunch of metal wares. They looked familiar. As he reached to touch one, he felt a knife at this throat. He froze.
"Who are you?" a deadly voice asked. A voice he recognized.
"Daja?" All thoughts of using his plant-magic to escape faded.
"Briar!" she said, shocked. "What are you doing here?"
"Was gonna nick summat, but guess I oughta leave now, 'case anyone else gets here," he informed her. His wink belied his mixture between a street accent, a country accent, and the drawling accent of the coastal Paellas (who had a dialect unique to their region).
"I'm sure Polyam won't mind if I find something for you to eat," she dismissed.
"You're traveling with Polyam and still able to hold up your charade with your charge?" Roach asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jade fixed her eyes on Roach. "I can do what I can do, and that's obviously better than whatever you can," she said in a steely voice.
Roach smiled. "That's true," he said. "But you only have a Trader for your charge, don't you?"
Understanding that he was only trying to nettle her, she raised an eyebrow. "Do you want food or not?"
And so, of course, Jade lent Roach some foodstuffs from Polyam's stores, Roach sneaked off, and both were a little more lighthearted at having met a friend from home.
"You got this much?" Leaf asked, wide-eyed.
"I have connections," Roach said in a lofty-imitation voice. They both burst out laughing and began munching on the food.
~*~
Travis sighed. The dusty wagon kept on going. Though news from the north had it that it was raining there, Travis seriously doubted it. How could it rain there, and be burning hot here? And news was that it was snowing over east, after hailing for over a week. While here, of all places, it was dusty and hot and dry and very uncomfortable.
He glared at Lena, who was sitting comfortably on a horse. If he knew how to ride on a horse, he would be sitting there comfortably, not rattled around on this rickety old wagon. Well, it was cheap. That was one good thing about, but it was probably the only good thing. The farmer driving the mule totally ignored Travis's questions, and Lena was looking around anxiously.
"Lena," he called out.
Lena rode over with ease. "What?" she asked, her usually cheerful smile gone. She glared. "And no, we're not even close to getting there yet. You're worse than Pasco."
"Who is Pasco?" he asked, curious.
"No one," she said absently. "What did you want?"
He gave a hopeful look. "Can I ride on that?"
Lena gave him a skeptical look. "Let's trade places for while and see how well you do."
Travis nodded eagerly. He got on the horse … and fell … on his rump. He grumbled, and got on again, and noticed that the wagon was getting ahead, even at the slow pace it was going. He urged the horse to a gallop like he saw Lena do. He scowled.
Lena was sitting comfortably on a pack of blankets watching amusedly as he abused his poor sore rump on the ruthless horse's back. Just his luck.
~*~
Throughout the day, various peoples of all sizes and characters passed through Namesh on their way to Emelan. Shelter from the rain and the sleet, which was currently bombarding Namesh with a fury, was an extra incentive for travelers. Located at various places throughout the town were small white tents, which allowed up to four families per tent, incase some stingy, tightfisted family did not wish to spend the night in an inn. On a night like this, most such tents were abandoned. However, one particular tent located towards the center of town, with a roof that did not leak and located on fairly dry ground soon found inhabitants in four pairs of children and adults. The four pairs were, coincidentally (Coincidence? Maybe …) Jade and Liata, Lena and Travis, Zana and Moraine, and Roach and Leaf. The four pairs set up their blankets and took out their foodstuffs and each ate quietly in their own corner. As there were several hours left until nightfall (Namesh was almost a requisite stopping point because there were no other cities between it and Emelan on this particular route), the four young adults gestured to the four younger children to run off and play and do whatever they wish. The heavy downpour outside, however, didn't allow for much entertainment. Finally, out of nothing better to do, Travis approached Lena (who had been setting up a loom) and begged a piece of string off of her. Taking the bit of string, he quickly knotted the ends together and began playing cat's cradle with it. Cat's cradle was a game for two or more, however, and Lena, once she had set up her loom, focused her entire attention on her weaving and refused to play with her charge. Travis, with his amiable nature, approached and was rejected by all three of the children. Undaunted, he approached the adults, and finally, Jade agreed to play with him.
As they talked, Travis chatted, as he was apt to do. Soon, he found himself reciting his life story, his ambitions, his thoughts, his feelings, his incredible boredom, and his fondness for sweets to the entire tent as he slipped his fingers nimbly through the string. Finally, Liata could hold it in no longer.
"Why do we care about a kaq like you?"
Jade was about to reprimand the girl, when Travis turned around, all smiles, and said, "But I bet Trader trash like you can't even make a simple star out of a piece of string like this." So saying, his fingers and the string formed a simple five-pointed star.
Liata, not to be outdone, produced a piece of string out of her shirt, knotted the ends together, and proceeded to form the more complicated six-pointed star.
Travis countered with the hard-to-manage four-pointed star, and Liata followed with a whopping ten-pointed star. Not to be outdone be a Trader (Traders and merchants instinctively disliked each other), his hands busied themselves for a moment, before he developed a close-knit three-pointed star that, in its complexity, outshone Liata's star.
Not to be outdone, Liata's fingers began the traditional game of "moon and stars," a similar Trader version of cat's cradle for little children. Travis, however, moved to make the beginnings of the "cats and dogs," a slightly more complex series of string-forms.
Soon, the entire tent (except for Lena—she had seen most of the string-forms already, having taught Travis all he knew) was watching in rapt attention. The match was concluded when Liata produced a carefully-formed design of a fox sipping water from a stream that was both recognizable and well-constructed. (A/N: I am well aware that I don't have the skill to create anything like this, but I'm sure it's possible. Somehow.)
Lena had at this point finished her weaving (her hands had been flying to finish it), and she took t off of the loom to show the tent. Everyone gasped. She had, starting from the top and inching down, woven the designs which Travis and Liata had formed with their string, from the stars to the moons to the animals to the flowers to the figure-people. It was well-crafted and speedily-made. She walked over, and handed it to Liata. "Your prize," she said, winking.
"But Lena," Travis protested. "That thread was really expensive! You told me you were going to sell what you created with the string and recoup the losses it incurred," he accused.
"Some things," Lena told him gently, "are more important than money. And others more important than gold. And others more important than standing, rank, or heritage. She deserves it, so I give it to her. And that is all there is to it." Turning, to Liata, she inquired the girl's name.
Liata, who was flattered by the gift, responded almost automatically in Trader-talk. "My name is Liata of the-" she cut off as she realized that she was no longer of any clan/caravan/ship. She glanced at Jade, and sighed. "Of the lugsha," she grumbled. Then, she realized that Lena probably hadn't understood a word she said, and prepared to repeat it again.
To her surprise, however, Lena responded in smooth, if heavily accented Trader-talk. "Where did you learn your string-forming skills?" She stumbled over the word for the Traders' version of cats' cradle, but her overall meaning was conveyed.
"From my older sister," Liata said promptly, before a sad look entered her eyes, one she received whenever she wistfully recalled her life from before her apprenticeship.
"And?" Lena gently inquired.
Liata brushed off her wistfulness, and continued rather briskly. "She married, and died with my parents in an unpredicted storm." Her voice barely quavered, although the grief was still there, as evident from the way she clutched the scarlet cloth of her pants.
Lena expressed her sympathies. Travis, on the other hand, looked flabbergasted as well as confused. "You never told me you knew Trader-talk," Travis accused. "I've always wanted to learn how to speak it. It sounds cool."
"What would a k- a lu- a non-Trader like you want with knowledge of a language you'll never speak?" Liata inquired, the bite in her words softened somewhat.
"Because I like to learn stuff," Travis said, having by now forgotten that he had been competing fiercely against Liata. His moods were more fickle than the winds. "Knowledge, especially correct knowledge, can help you through anything." His eyes turned considering. "Would you be willing to teach me at least a few words of the Trader language?"
Liata was on the verge of saying know, when she felt something stir within her. To her astonishment, she felt some of the world-stopping grief she had felt when she learned of her parents' death drain away, as her interest caught on to the prospect of teaching someone something. She had always enjoyed teaching, and she was smart enough to recognize that letting go of her grief was a good thing. "Only if you teach me some of the string-forms you made," she said finally, compromising.
Leaf, who had been only half-interested in the conversation, brightened up at Liata's words. "If you're going to teach her some of the string-forms, you could teach me some, too?" she wanted to know. "Some of them looked pretty cool."
Moraine sniffed at the interest in something so obviously not worth her time, but she subtly adjusted herself so that she could keep a good eye on the trio. As they traded knowledge, she made sure that she could see what string-forms they made, and muttered some of the Trader words under her breath to correct her pronunciation. Although she didn't disapprove, per se, of talking with commoner children (of which she was one), but she had never found it easy to join in a group, as this obviously was. She always found it easier to watch from the sidelines, and learn silently, remaining an observer.
As time wore on however, Moraine found herself more and more interested in their conversation. She edged closer and closer, before even venturing some questions herself. At first they seemed surprised, but they seemed to find no reason to exclude her, and she was included in their wide-ranging discussion.
As the rain slowly stopped and night fell, however, Lena, Roach, Jade, and Zana each drew their charges aside and ordered them to bed. For a while there was a silence in the tent as none of the young adults did anything but stare in the dark. Finally, in wordless agreement, they congregated in the center, and seated themselves in comfortable positions. Slowly, they allowed the gentle soothing of meditation wash over them. Lena brought out the circle of thread she kept at her side ever since the beginning, and she passed it around the circle as each drew a little of their reserve power from it. Zana, whose hair was in her usual tight braids, let some of the power store there, while Lena (who had the source of replenishing energy with her always) relaxed. Roach and Daja, respectively, had a "mage kit" with them always, that seemed ordinary to the naked eye. In reality, however, Jade's collection of twists of wire and Roach's seeds in his pockets stored their last reserves of energy.
When the energy throbbing in the room finally ended, the four separated, and each went to their own corner of the surprisingly spacious tent, to wake in the morning.
~*~
Early in the morning, Zana and Moraine were the first to leave (at the crack of dawn) having an appointed coach ride waiting for them at the edge of the town. They gathered things, bid goodbye to the waking Jade, Roach, and Lena (Moraine even pausing to thank Lena for the threaded ring she had received yesterday, even if the thanks was somewhat stilted), and hastened to meet the caravan at the city square.
Liata had woken up not much later, and had silently sipped porridge until she felt herself satiated. A few snacks, and they moved to find the town square, in order to join a cart on its way to Emelan. Such carts were rare, although abundant in the morning. Liata did find it in herself to hug Lena and thank her for the beautiful weaving.
Next, Roach and Leaf slipped away, silent as the thieves they were.
Lena woke up Travis next. He tended to be a rather sound sleeper. She mixed some fresh tea and sipped it until he got dressed. He rubbed his eyes blearily. "Where is everybody?" he wanted to know.
"Unlike you," Lena said dryly, "they had prior appointments and are not as fond of oversleeping. As it is, you are very lucky that we are renting a cart to Emelan. Otherwise, you'd have had to wake up earlier, too."
Travis's face showed his dismay at being forced to wake up before noon as it was.
"Now hurry up and finish your porridge," Lena said briskly. "We have a long day ahead of us.
~*~
Leaf and Roach arrived in Emelan at midday, in time to nick some food from a nearby inn. As they munched on their vittles, Roach led the way. Finally, they arrived n front of an impressive-looking building. Before he entered, Roach turned to face Leaf. "Ivy Thorne-Leaf," he addressed the street-girl by the name she had given him when he first met her. "I'm afraid that I have business to do here in Emelan, so I can't take care of you.
"I don't need taking care of," Leaf protested.
Roach ignored her. "You'll have to stay at a Bag-place for now. Be nice, because you're going to learn something very important at this Bag-place."
Leaf stared suspiciously at Roach, noting that his accent had almost notably changed. "Where?"
"Winding Circle," Roach said.
"Where?" Leaf asked, never having heard of it before.
"It's a temple," Roach explained briefly. "They'll take care of you, and they won't be mean to you. I promise you that I will come visit you and take you away one day, if you so wish."
"What do I want with a temple?" Leaf asked.
Roach sighed. "I want you to trust me on this. I've never led your wrong before. Just trust me on this. I'll take you there this afternoon, and I'll visit you tomorrow and next week. All right?"
Leaf hesitated. Her first instinct would always be to say "no," but Roach had always had an uncanny way of knowing things. He did seem to know things, maybe a little bit of mage-stuff. And maybe, just maybe, this Winding Circle place might be able to help with her nightmares …
"All right," she finally said.
Roach smiled. "Now wait out here. I'm going inside for a while, but I'll be back a' fore you know it."
"Are you sure they'll let you in?" Leaf asked skeptically.
"They know me," Roach said confidently. Winking at Leaf, he stepped inside
~*~
Jade glanced around her somewhat dispassionately. It was, after all, just another registration-area. Of course, she herself had never exactly been to one, as Niko had been the one to register her. The clerks looked to be typical prejudiced and lazy clerk who got stuck in the slums because he was too stupid to be risked on real nobles. She breathed in a deep breath, determined to keep a tight rein on her temper no matter what these men said. She had come here because it was closest, and because she needed to visit a friend who visited around here. She would not go several leagues out of her way just to please these men.
"What do you want, Trader trash?" one of the men sneered. "Looking for some fun?" he leered.
Giving up the fight to control her temper, Jade raised her hand. At that moment, all metal in the room raised up in the air. Jade gloried in the use of her magic, even as she flicked a couple of fingers, and the men found themselves levitated in mid-air, bombarded by all sorts of rulers and eating utensils that stopped a millimeter from their face.
"I am, if you have not figured it out by now," Jade said evenly, "a Mage of Winding Circle. I am here to register my apprentice, Liata Rujisa. Are you writing this down?" While she spoke, the men were slowly let down to the floor, and the metal, too, dropped to the floor with something similar to a clank.
One frazzled clerk immediately pulled a pen and paper, and scribbled down what she said.
"I trust you will see that Liata is properly registered?" Jade said calmly.
"Yes, ma'am. Whatever you say, ma'am," the clerk stammered.
"Good."
~*~
"Thank you for your time and patience," Zana said sweetly, before turning and walking out the door with Moraine at her heels (sullenly, of course).
Moraine was very confused. They had entered a nice building, where Zana had held a furious, whispered conversation with the clerk. In the end, Zana's eyes had flashed, and her voice had hardened, sure signs of an about-to-come temper explosion. The clerk had recognized the signs as well, and Moraine had winced as his placating only enraged Zana further.
In the end, Zana had shouted at him and threatened him, among other things, before he finally agreed to do as he was instructed. It was amusing to watch, but Moraine had kept her distance in case Zana felt an urge to throw something, and her aim was off.
After they walked out of the painfully clean room, Moraine turned to face Zana. "What was that about?" she asked bluntly.
"With my occupation and your tendency to sleep on the job," Zana said dryly, "you are more of a hindrance than a help."
Stung, Moraine bit back her retort, forcibly reminding herself that young ladies did not willingly submit to drudgery.
"So you will be send your days and nights at Winding Circle, where you can be out of trouble," Zana finished.
Moraine's ears caught the words "Winding Circle," and she was immediately lost in thought. She had quite a few relatives who felt a Calling, whatever that was, and had become Dedicates and/or volunteers there. One of her favorite aunts had done so. To reside in the infamous Winding Circle, which had housed the Magnificent Four, young mages that were more powerful than the rest of the world combined, would be an honor and a pleasure. She did not question how Zana had gotten here in there, or why Zana was bothering to do so. She cared only for the possibility that there might be some latent magic in here, magic which would prove the world that she had deserved to be Countess after all.
~*~
"Explain to me once again why leaving me at Winding Circle is not abandoning me," Travis said flatly.
Lena bit back a sharp retort, knowing that Travis had an issue with abandonment, and snapping at him would not make things better. Patiently, she explained her reasons again. "Because I have places to go that are not fit for a child," she purposely ignored his suspicious glare at this reason, well aware of how … wrong it sounded. "Winding Circle will teat you well. I will visit you every day. Winding Circle will be good for you."
"But you said that I was yours now, and that you would never give me up," Travis protested. "You promised!"
"I'm not giving you up," Lena said. "I'm putting you in someone else's care under my pay. Think of it as hiring someone to look after you while I'm off doing business."
"But I don't need looking after," Travis said grumpily. "I bet you I'm more mature than any of the Temple brats there."
"You don't sound so mature now," Lena said, raising an eyebrow. "And I'll have you know that I was a 'Temple brat' myself. In fact, I had some good times at Winding Circle. If you have half the adventures I have, then you can count yourself a veteran of life."
"Adventures?" Travis scoffed. "What adventures can you have in a Temple?"
"Well," Lena mused. "There was the entire bit with being stuck underground during an earthquake …" she trailed off.
"You got stuck underground during an earthquake?" Travis asked. "Was it scary?"
"You bet," Lena murmured. "Especially since I was still scared of the dark back then."
"You? Scared of something?" To Travis, Lena had always represented the epitome of courage. She never backed down from doing what was right, and she always faced danger head-on, never turning tail to run and hide, never waiting for it seek her out and kill her.
"Yes, I used to be scared of something," Lena said amusedly. "I am human, you know."
Travis smiled tentatively.
"So will you attend Winding Circle?" Lena asked.
"Do I have a choice?" Travis asked pointedly.
"Not really," Lena shrugged.
"All right then," Travis said. "Why not?"
"That's the Travis I like to hear," Lena smiled, reaching over to ruffle the boy's hair.
To be continued …
*It's been quite a while since I last held any of the books (and their oh-so-useful maps) in my hands, and as I am much too lazy to look it up right now, make up your own name for this Sea.
**From "this little piggy went to market." Just random weirdness on my part.