Author's Notes: This will be a three-part story; chapters two and three are currently in the beta workshop. My intent was again to explore the burden that comes with Shari's heritage and the expectations laid on her, this time thrown into relief by her encounter with a "lady of the night" who responded very differently to the expectations of her own position.

Plagiarism, n. Putting forth as original to oneself the ideas or words of another. [adapted from Dictionary.com, "plagiarize."] *quakes* Because I stole Lark straight out of Emma Donoghue's Slammerkin, a brilliant novel of prostitution in eighteenth-century Britain. If you have access to the book via bookstore, library, hook or crook, and you're over thirteen, read it.

Thanks to Candice Velasco, as usual, without whom I would be floundering. And to everyone else, go read her fic. That's an order.

Predestined

by Starchild

Fly, silly seabird

No dreams can possess you

No voices can blame you

The sun on your wings

My gentle relations

Have names they must call me

For loving the freedom

Of all flying things

My dreams

With the seagulls fly

Out of reach

Out of cry

"Song to a Seagull" by Joni Mitchell

~~~~~

It had been a sort of mutual dare between my friend Alcynthe and myself to venture inside the Red Lantern Inn and Tavern, a filthy place in all senses of the word. The height - or rather, pit - of the Lower City and its culture, the Red Lantern was certainly not a place frequented by decently raised fourteen-year-old girls. The tavern was the hub of thieves, criminals, prostitutes - all those who deceived or condescended for a living - where a human being entering unawares could easily be tricked or robbed, or worse. It was low-down, immoral, insidious, dangerous. Which was precisely what made the place so intriguing.

It was more Alcynthe's nature than mine to be drawn to the prohibited-for-good-reason; she among our group of friends was the boldest and most reckless. Alcynthe was the one to play practical jokes on those far above us in rank, when she felt they deserved them. Alcynthe was the one to exchange heated words with the University bullies when they went about their bullying, and even to confront them martially; they were far greater than us physically, it was true, but she had picked up several nasty hexes in her time at the University. Alcynthe was the one to visit the most foreboding tombs at midnight, when so dared by the boys in our classes. And, of course, she was the one to assign equally intrepid dares to others.

I, while not fully so audacious as my friend, was equally honor-bound to accept a challenge to my fortitude. It was a tacit understanding among our group: where one led, the others must follow. And so, when Alcynthe suggested a visit to the Red Lantern, there was little I could do but acquiesce, despite my instinctual deterrence from the tavern. Not only was such an institution completely alien to all I'd known, being raised among the intellectually and morally solid, but it exuded such an aura of filth and baseness that decent folk, walking down the street at a distance, would hear the drunken shouts and clamor and reverse their steps.

But, after all, Alcynthe and I could take care of ourselves. Especially me, given my background - after all, as Alcynthe said pointedly, combat magic was my passion and strength… wasn't it?

But it was true. At fourteen, I was known throughout the field of magecraft for my accomplishments in combat magic. I could flame, shield, and blast estimably; in the case of Alcynthe's proposal, I could cloak us visually and even spin a repellant spell to deflect unwanted company. I had also mastered shape-shifting, if not so consummately as my mother; I took more than a heartbeat's time to make the change, and some forms came with much more difficulty than others; but I could, if necessary, assume a formidable predator's shape in defense. Furthermore, if Alcynthe and I were in grave danger, my parents would know. We were connected magically, through foci and other magical workings as well as the People, who could pass word from myself to my mother. The fact was, my family, under everyday circumstances, probably numbered among the safest people in the kingdom.

And so it was that Alcynthe and I found ourselves deviating from our more frequented shops and study centers in the Middle City and descending to the Lower City, along a series of narrow, poorly-kept and roughly cobbled streets that wound through the depths of the urban slums. It was a blustery day in late October, and an insistent gale grabbed at our cloaks and hurried us on through the tortuous roads. Alcynthe exhibited that sparkle in her bright brown eyes, that flush beneath her freckles, that accompanied all her characteristically daring exploits. I felt, and probably looked, less enthusiastic. I couldn't stop entertaining such cogitations as What are we doing?

At one point on the journey, Alcynthe looked at me quizzically. "What's wrong, Shari?"

"Hmm?" I tried to look nonchalant.

She grinned lopsidedly. "You look like you did that time we dissected frogs in Master Kendar's class."

I winced at the memory. "It's just…." I shook my head. "This is not a wise idea, Cynthe."

She sighed patiently. "Relax, Shari. We'll be in and out in twenty minutes, and much the wiser as to worldly scenery for it. We're exploring."

"The Red Lantern is one of those places better left unexplored, in our case."

"That's what you've always heard, I know. But we're more than old enough to make our own choices these days. We've got finer judgment than adults seem to admit."

I raised an eyebrow. "Naturally, Mistress Alcynthe - but some of use it more than others."

She rolled her eyes. "Shari, look at it logically. There can't be much in that place that can hurt you if you don't want it. I wouldn't think you'd be so timid, not with your talents."

"Cynthe…." I tensed as the din of typical tavern noises pushed through the long sighs of the wind. "Look, this isn't just about how much danger we're actually in. It's about… the places where we spend time, the kind of people we're around…." I trailed off, groping for words.

"In other words -" the wind whipped Alcynthe's shoulder-length brown hair around her face, but her voice was level and serious - "it's about virtue."

After a moment, I nodded.

She patted my arm maternally. "Don't fret. Like I said, it's just for a bit, just this one day. Besides, Shari… you just might be surprised about what tavern folks have to say." The roughly hewn logs of the tavern's façade loomed in front of us now; the sign of the Red Lantern swung creaking in the wind. The clamor inside was louder than ever; bawdy songs pushed through the general roar of conversation and shouts, punctuated by occasional thumping of furniture. Firelight flickered in the windows. Alcynthe turned to me, the spark of mischief reignited in her dancing brown eyes. "Well? What do you say?"

I gave her a hard look. "Well, I certainly don't mean to talk to anyone I don't know, and I expect you not to either -" she nodded quickly - "but very well." I pulled the heavy wooden door open and held it for her; the din from inside rose to a roar. "After you, fair lady." I grinned, covering my nervousness.

She nodded formally to me and swept inside; I followed. We stood together just inside the door, surveying our surroundings as if we'd been swept off to another world. It was dimly lit in the tavern, such a contrast with the afternoon light outside that we blinked to adjust our eyes to the gloom. All light came from large fireplaces, or a few torches set into the walls. The noise of the tavern-goers was deafening, spiking occasionally as fresh shouts rose from knots of gamblers. Most of the Red Lantern's population were roughly dressed, scruffy, and dirty, and crowded around long wooden tables. Nearly everyone seemed to have a mug of ale in hand or nearby; the tables were covered with them. Serving maids wove through the crowd bearing large trays of drinks; other women in the room were dressed in such manners as to outrage the kind of people Alcynthe and I typically associated with. A smoky haze hung over the room, further hampering visibility; the smells of ale and bodies were overwhelming.

I looked sideways at my friend, insides churning. "Well?"

She was grinning widely. "Have you ever seen a merrier crowd?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, come on." She grabbed my hand and towed me through the room as if she'd spent her life in places like these - which I was fairly certain was not the case. Thus far no one had noticed us in the crowd, for which I was grateful. I hoped fervently we could pass the whole time there without speaking to any of these people.

"Cynthe? Where are we going?"

"To sit down, Shari." She sighed exasperatedly and pulled me out into an open space that surrounded the end of one table nearest the wall. Miraculously, several yards of the wall-facing end of the table were completely unoccupied. At the other end sat a handful of older men, one silently smoking a pipe, one slumped over in a drunken stupor, two others conversing in low tones. Their presence made me feel decidedly uncomfortable, though they clearly made better company than other men in the room.

We sat side by side. I couldn't help huddling close to Alcynthe, a figure of comfort and familiarity in an alien place. My friend, however, was taking the situation very differently. Her eyes were shining as she took in the tavern, and her posture was clearly relaxed. She was obviously enjoying herself, and it was plain to see that she appreciated the "excitement" this place offered. I, on the other hand, was still silently cursing myself and counting the minutes.

We ordered ciders from a maid who gave us a pungent look of mingled reprimand and distaste, and flushed at Alcynthe's retaliatory comment about the streaks of soot on her face. Unhindered by such interferences, we now sat over our ciders eagerly observing - and exchanging thoughts on - the tavern and its occupants. After ten minutes or so, when no catastrophe had befallen us, I couldn't help but be infected by Alcynthe's enthusiasm. It was fun, being travelers in an alien land, free from the expectations we lived with, experiencing something new. The novelty was the exhilaration - at least, for a one-time excursion.

We were giggling over the drunken confusion of a knot of gamblers when a pure, clear voice rose into the air, sweet and smooth. We started, and turned to scan the room for its source. Around the tavern, other heads turned as well.

The singer was a young woman of perhaps eighteen, leaning leisurely against one of the thick wooden posts that supported the tavern's structure, slender arms crossed over her chest. From her dress and pose, her profession was clear. Her gown, laced impossibly tight and with a tapered bodice, screamed with slashes of red and black satin. A low, wide neckline showed ample cleavage as well as her creamy shoulders. Her skirts stopped shockingly at the knee, and the topmost layer comprised only a collection of red and black satin ribbons streaming from the waist. Her eyes were lined with ink, her lips painted cherry-red. A number of small braids wove through her mahogany tresses, as well as red and black ribbons.

What made her so incongruous with her surroundings, however, was a silky yet full-bodied voice, like the trained singers at Court. Despite lyrics that made my face grow hot, her skill was not typical of a place like the Red Lantern - simply because musicians of such caliber found better lives.

But it was another feature that further captivated me. Threads of coppery light wove beneath her skin - wild magic. I blinked and shook my head to clear it. What was a wildmage doing in a tavern like this? But the copper light was unmistakable, veining her face, arms and improperly exposed calves.

Then her eyes fell directly on me. It was as though a cord were strung between us; I knew she was looking at me along, not Alcynthe or anyone around us. More, I had the feeling she recognized me - that she knew exactly who I was and why I had come, like a master Seer who could read one's story at a glance. Her wine-red lips curved into a smile, and she winked. Not the sly invitation she would probably issue to potential clients, but an expression of friendship, between two people who shared a bond or a secret.

"I think the court bards could learn a thing or two from her." Alcynthe sounded awestruck. "What in the name of the Goddess is she doing here?" She was still staring at the tavern girl.

So was I. "Cynthe," I breathed. "Did you see that?" I forgot momentarily that Alcynthe didn't share my magical vision.

"See what, Shari?"

I tore my eyes away from the singer to look at Alcynthe. "She's a wildmage."

"Her?" Alcynthe's tone dripped incredulity. We both returned to staring at the girl in question, who was now surrounded by a knot of rough-looking men. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." After a few moments of considering each bidder, the girl favored one of them with her sly smile, hooked her arm through his, and led him towards the stairs.

I leaned back, releasing a heavy breath as I considered what we'd just seen.

"A wildmage and a singer, and she's selling herself in the Red Lantern?" Alcynthe demanded. "Why?"

"Exactly what I'm wondering." I felt decidedly odd at the thought of a tavern girl with all potential to work with the People instead, or in music. "Maybe we could talk to her…."

Alcynthe grinned faintly. "And before, you were so sure you'd never speak to anyone in here. A little more open-minded, are we?"

I frowned. "I didn't expect to see someone like her." I stared in the direction the girl had taken, and sighed, considerably more solemn than when I'd entered the tavern.

With ten more minutes of waiting, however, the wildmage had still not reappeared. At that point voices rose to a bellow from one of the tables, and several big fellows rose from their seats, assuming belligerent stances.

"Shari," Alcynthe said quietly. "We should get out of here."

It occurred to me that we had switched positions on the excursion. I sighed, but conceded my friend's reasoning. Past boldness notwithstanding, we shouldn't be staying where a fight was heating up. We made our way through the crowd and stepped out into the grey, chill afternoon once more.

Making our way back through the shabby streets, I resolved to find the tavern girl again. Ill-bred though she might be, I had to at least know her story.

~~~~~