Summary: A fan fiction featuring the mages of the Winding Circle. Sandry, Briar, Tris, and Daja find themselves once again in Discipline cottage - or rather, around Discipline, with their new students in tow. Follow the lives of the Circle of Magic and their charges, as well as their loves and tragedy.

Author: Bosco19

Story: The Opened Circle Returns

Started: 15 November 2005

Finished: 15 November 2005

Posted: 15 November 2005

Lady Sandrilene fa Toren smiled at Pasco Acalon, her student and the resident dance mage of Emelan. He had come a long way in the year he had been with Sandry; his skill was marked by the scarf he had tied around his waist, a gift from the Dancers' Guild of Emelan and by the lack of red thread surrounding him as he meditated. Sandry herself was meditating against a tree outside Discipline, the cottage she had once called home. After a year at the Duke's Citadel her room was still open, but Sandry thought it better to inhabit the new dormitory next door to Discipline with Pasco and to ready the dormitory for her foster brother and sisters.

Dedicate Lark watched Sandry and Pasco with amusement. Not long after Sandry had left for the Duke's Citadel had Lark realized how much she missed her surrogate daughter. Watching her meditate with her own student proved to Lark that her young Sandry, her baby, was now a young woman. Duke Vedris IV placed a hand on Lark's shoulder; he had forced his great-niece to grow up when his heart attack left him ill and unable to rule his kingdom. He regretted it every day that he watched Sandry struggle to teach Pasco, as well as the days when Pasco triumphed and Sandry came home exhausted from chasing her dancing magelet.

"One, two, three..." Sandry trailed off in her soft voice, lulling Pasco into his meditation. By now he didn't need the help to get there but knew that his Lady, as he secretly called her, never forgetting her status, wanted to make sure that he was in full command of his power as they readied the dormitory for the rest of Lady Sandry's friends. Pasco was terrified of Briar, Tris, and Daja - but he'd never let Lady Sandry know that. Pasco was to help Sandry with her magics for the draperies of the dormitory - she had charmed the lace to keep insects out but to let the breeze through and it was now Pasco's turn to dance the protective charms against fire and smoke onto the lace window coverings.

"Ready?" Sandry asked him, standing up. Pasco was taller than Sandry by at least a head but he chose not to remind his teacher of that fact when she helped him to his feet. Pasco suspected that the fighting he was putting Lady Sandry through was helping strengthen her muscles; before, she would have had to step back and leverage Pasco up using all of her weight. Now, she simply flexed her arms and dragged Pasco up. Kirel, a young man from the smithy, had noticed Sandry when she first returned to Winding Circle and had commented that "his little weaver" had come back with "smith arms." Pasco's hackles raised even now as he thought of Kirel's familiarity with his young teacher.

"Pasco, the dreaming can wait until you dance these spells," Sandry lightly chided. The young noble's dancing skills had greatly improved since picking up a dance mage; nimbly she mapped out the pattern with her feet, following a thread of magic she had spun earlier into the earth.

Sighing, Pasco linked his hands behind his back. There were twenty draperies that Lady Sandry wanted him to practice on - he had better get started.

"Lady Sandry, dance with me!" Pasco shouted to his teacher. He had finished the jig for protection over the draperies and was dancing to warm down. He didn't wait for an answer; Sandry was whirled about by Pasco without warning. Lark had come out to inspect Pasco's jig and Sandry's weaving and found her foster daughter being spun by her student - over his hip and hugged to his chest, then out again. Lark smiled at Duke Vedris, for Sandry had never danced for her before.

"She has had to learn how to dance to teach Pasco his magic," Duke Vedris explained to Lark. "She says it is much like weaving."

"And she is right," Lark agreed, watching Sandry sashay across the grass, her arm in Pasco's and laughing gaily at herself. Lark was taken back to her days as a tumbler when she watched Sandry gliding along the grass on Pasco's arm - but something wasn't right about the picture to Lark. Sandry was on the wrong arm; she wasn't meant to be on Pasco's arm, at least not in the sense of a lover. Lark didn't know who Sandry would end up with but she knew it wasn't to be Pasco.

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