Anders sat in a large wardrobe in the one of the Circle's storage rooms, back pressed into the wood and knees pulled up to his chest. Silently, he waited.
He'd managed to give his instructor the slip a while ago. He doubted anyone would come looking for him—his recent, miraculous turnaround in behavior seemed to have gotten most of the Enchanters off his back—but it still wouldn't do if some overzealous Templar spotted him and dragged him back to where he was supposed to be. After all, he had an appointment to keep with Karl.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps and the sound of the door to the storage room creeping open. He strained his ears, but the footfalls he heard now didn't sound like Karl's, or even a Templars'. They were much too light, and they were hesitant. A thrrip thrrip thrrip of slippers stopping and starting. He froze in place, stomach a churning mix of anxiety and curiosity.
The footsteps stopped just in front of the wardrobe and, slowly, the door started to creak open, letting in a stream of light. He blinked in the sudden brightness, and shielded his face. There was no point in trying to hide or pretend the wardrobe was empty. Whoever opened the door would be able to see him quite clearly. He might as well accept that he'd been caught.
But when his eyes adjusted to the light and he lowered his hand, Anders saw that the person standing in the door was only another apprentice, one he'd never seen before. She was a tiny elven girl with brown hair, rosy skin, and brown eyes so large they seemed to take up her entire thin face. She stared at him, mouth open in surprise. It took him only a moment to notice that her eyes were rimmed with red, and there were tear tracks on her cheeks. He sat up a bit straighter.
"Er… hello?" he said.
The girl sniffed and wiped her eyes with a dangling sleeve of her robe.
"Hello," she said quietly.
"Are you, er, all right?" he said. He glanced around. "Where's your Enchanter?"
"I don't know," she said. "I got lost."
Fresh tears ran down her face, and she wiped them away with her sleeve again.
"All right, all right," Anders said. He wished she would stop crying. "Where were you trying to go?"
"The library," she replied.
"The library's not far," he said. "It's just down the hall. Walk straight and turn left. You can't miss it."
The little girl didn't move. She just kept staring at him, and her lip began to tremble.
Anders sighed heavily.
"All right," he said. "Why don't I take you there?"
For the first time, the little girl smiled. She nodded, sniffed again.
"Out of the way," he said, not unkindly.
She stepped aside, and Anders, after untangling himself from his seated position, climbed out of the wardrobe. What he'd said was true. The library wasn't far. He should have plenty of time to take the girl there and make it back before Karl arrived, especially if he hurried. And besides, he wasn't going to let a little girl wander, lost and crying, around the Circle. He wasn't that heartless.
He looked back down at the girl, who still stared up at him with those huge eyes.
"Come on," he said, starting to walk. "And wipe your nose."
He heard the girl sniff again, then the sound of her slippers going thrrip thrrip thrrip on the flagstones as she hurried after him. They left the storage room and turned into the hall. Her too-big robes swished around her feet as she practically ran to keep up with him. Anders slowed his walk, and glanced down at her again.
"So," he said, "what do they call you?"
She looked up. She'd stopped crying now, but her face was still a mess of snot and tears. She wiped her nose again before answering.
"Rora," she said. She held up six fingers. "I'm six."
"Hi, Rora," he said. He smiled in spite of himself. "I'm Anders. I'm seventeen."
"Are you a mage?" she said, eyes wide.
"No, I'm an apprentice, like you," he said. He paused, looking her over again. "You're new here?"
She nodded, her expression solemn. Anders felt his stomach churn. He always hated meeting new apprentices—it reminded him too much of when he'd first arrive. When they were little, like her, it was even worse. The little ones would never even understand what it was they were missing, what had been taken from them.
Anders tucked his hands into the pockets of his robes, and glanced back at her again. He tried not to let his expression betray any sadness.
"How are things going?" he said, as casually as he could.
To his surprise, she smiled.
"Um… good," she said.
"Good?" He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"
"Uh-huh," she said.
"What's so good, exactly?"
She chewed her lip thoughtfully before answering.
"My teachers are nice," she said. "And nobody's mean to me. And, sometimes, we get to eat meat for dinner."
She practically skipped alongside him as she spoke. Anders frowned.
"Nobody's been mean to you?" he said. "Really? What about Templars?"
Her smile widened, hair settling around her ears as she landed from her skip.
"They're nice too," she said.
"Oh," Anders said. "Are they?"
He couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but she didn't seem to notice.
"Mm-hm," she said. "When I… When I was coming to the Circle, Ser Emmett picked me up when I was tired and, uh, and Ser Percy gave me three muffins one time, and Ser—"
"They're not nice," Anders said.
Rora started, steps slowing. Her expression was wide-eyed, surprised. He felt momentarily guilty, but only momentarily. She had to learn sooner or later.
"Listen, Rora," he said. "Templars are bad."
"But…" Her lip had started to tremble again. "But they were—"
"They were only acting nice," he said. "They were trying to trick you. You shouldn't trust them."
Her mouth opened and closed, and tears started to tremble in her eyes again. Anders rolled his own eyes heavenward, and sighed. He hadn't meant to make her cry.
Still walking, he moved closer and nudged her with his elbow.
"Hey," he said, more gently. "How about your family? Do you miss them?"
Rora sniffed and wiped her eyes again before looking up.
"Um… I don't miss my grandma," she said, surprisingly firmly. "But… I kind of miss my mama."
Anders smiled down at her. He felt a lump in his throat.
"I miss mine too," he said quietly.
They rounded the next corner, and came to a stop not far from the entrance to the library.
"Well, here we are," Anders said. He looked down at her again. "Can you find your way from here?"
She nodded seriously. "Yes," she said. "Thank you!"
She gave him a beaming, gap-toothed smile before she started to hurry off.
"Rora," Anders said before she could get too far. "Wait."
The girl paused, turned back. Anders frowned, trying to think what to say.
"This place," he said, "it's… it's like those Templars. It's not as nice as you think it is."
Rora blinked, confused again. Anders sighed and ran a hand across his forehead to his hair. She was probably too young to understand now, but she would someday.
"Just… be careful," he said. "And if anyone ever bothers you, you can tell me about it."
Rora's face brightened again, and she nodded.
Anders watched as she trotted off again. Just before she ran through the entrance, she turned, stopped, and waved at him so enthusiastically he thought her arm might fly off her shoulder.
"Bye, Anders!" she said.
He smiled, and waved back. "Bye, Rora."
She grinned again, and dashed through the entrance.
Once Anders was sure she was safely inside, he began to walk back to his and Karl's meeting place. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his robes, head down and shoulders up. As he walked, he picked up speed, agitated. He wished Karl were with him already—he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts right now. He didn't want to think about Rora—her gap-toothed smile, her too big robes, her joy in everything. He didn't want to think about her, or what might become of that joy in the years to come. Nothing innocent lasted long in this place. She would learn that too, sooner or later.
Anders walked even faster, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. He hoped Karl would be there by the time he got back.