Lady Sandrilene fa Toren, called Sandry by her friends, stared down at the twisted mass of wool in her hands. Just seconds ago, it had been thread, but a lapse in her concentration had caused all her work to come undone. To think that this could happen to her, a thread-mage who had been spinning wool thread for more than a year, seemed preposterous.
She sighed, replacing all her materials. Her concentration failed to come today, and nothing seemed to be able to conjure it, not even Niko's breathing exercises had helped. Sandry was further irritated by the little tufts of wool clinging to the black sleeves of her mourning gown. She pulled them away with such force that they leapt from her sleeves to one of the many wall hangings she had made to decorate Discipline cottage.
Using a smattering of her favorite curses, she gently tugged it off the wall hanging. However, instead of coming to her fingers as she had hoped, it jumped to the loom holding Lark's newest weaving. Sandry blinked, wondering why the wool would not obey her. Not since she had first come to Winding Circle had anything been this disobedient.
After chasing the wool around the room for a decent period of time, Sandry gave up. Small clumps of white fiber remained firmly stuck to various articles of cloth around the room. She sat down exhaustedly on a chair, wondering how something so easy could have drained her magical reserves. She would have to ask Niko for an explanation.
By the chimes of the Hub, she still had a long time until everyone would come back to Discipline for midday. Her teacher, Dedicate Lark, was speaking to Honored Moonstream regarding Sandry's progress at thread magic. Master Niko and Tris, another resident of the cottage, were studying weather patterns at the Hub. The former thief boy Briar and his teacher Rosethorn were helping Dedicate Crane save plants and repair the damage caused to his greenhouse by a late summer storm. The final member of their group, Daja Kisubo, was working in the forge with Frostpine and his apprentice Kirel.
Sandry nibbled on a cold, leftover pastry from breakfast. The cottage was strangely silent. The shrieking of Tris's pet starling, aptly named Shriek, was missing, as the bird had flown away last fall, and had not returned. The only thing left in Discipline remotely resembling a pet was Briar's magical shakkan tree.
She stepped outside, walking over to the stone that marked her dog Little Bear's grave, wondering if it would be worth risking Rosethorn's wrath to pick flowers from the Earth dedicate's garden to place on the marker. After considering the wilting heap of flowers already there, Sandry decided against the action. No matter how much she had pretended to dislike Little Bear, the untimely death of the pet had affected her too.
Sandry went back inside, attempting a bit of simple needlework to distract herself until the noon meal. After several finger jabbing stitches, she gave up and clambered to the thatched roof to nap.
Trisana Chandler slammed shut the book she been reading , drawing the attention of her instructor, Niklaren Goldeye, Niko for short. He glanced up at his pupil briefly, then returned to his volume of choice. Pushing her brass rimmed spectacles up the bridge of her nose, Tris went back to reading.
By the time Tris was almost irritated enough by the (seemingly nonexistent) blizzard patterns of Namorn to repeat the book slamming, an unfamiliar dedicate in water blue nervously approached their table, bearing a message to Niko.
Niko dismissed the dedicate and stood up, "Come, Tris, Dedicate Crane has requested your assistance in cataloging his lost plant specimens."
Tris quickly obeyed, glad to be doing something else than memorizing the climates of places she would most likely never visit. Carefully slipping an opened parchment envelope she had been hiding under the book into her sleeve, Tris replaced the baroquely worded tome back on its shelf and fell in step behind Niko.
By the time they had finished descending the Hub's stairwell, Tris was breathing heavily. Though she had grown taller in the past year, Tris had lost none of her plumpness. She once again wore her red hair long, since she had long ago stopped sparking when she became angry.
Normally, Niko and anyone else she walked with would match her pace, but not today. His reason for hurrying was easily evident to Tris; Niko wanted to arrive at Crane's greenhouse before the looming rain shower began.
Tris was the last person to mind the weather, in fact, a storm would be quite welcome. The envelope inside her sleeve poked her elbow, both emphasizing her wish and painfully reminding her of the letter's contents.
It was the second of its kind, coming from the Merchant House Chandler, bearing apologies from her family. And wishes that she return home.
Please return home, our dearest Trisana . . .
"Dearest Trisana" indeed! The family that had packed her off without any second thought was having them now. With her strong mage powers, she could bring large profits to her family, such large profits that they would forgive any and all previously unacceptable oddities.
We will insure you get a proper education at Lightsbridge . . .
Tris scuffed the path with her foot, like she wanted to go there. Everything she had heard about the university for mages was far from positive. In her eyes, it produced mostly stuffy and rigid mages who obsessed over doing things properly. Excluding Niko, of course.
The gathering small storm was reacting to Tris's fury. The little gray clouds that had promised a light rain swelled into heavy black thunderheads. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but Tris was unaware.
Please come home to us . . .
Our . . .
Dear . . .
Trisana . . .
Tris was pulled abruptly from her incensed reverie when a bolt of lightning struck the path in front of her. Her copper curls stood straight up and had become incredibly frizzed. Tris's mouth dropped open in shock. She hadn't caused a lightning strike in months. In fact, Niko had recently praised her progress.
Her teacher now looked at her sternly, "Is something wrong, Tris?"
Tris shook her head, cheeks reddening in embarrassment.
He continued, "Something must be, as I can't recall you causing lightning to strike in the last six months."
Deciding it wasn't worth the fight, Tris produced the letter from her sleeve, handing it to Niko.
"It's from my family. They still want me to come back. Now that I have magic, they've changed their opinion of me. They still don't care about me as a person, but they want to take advantage of my powers."
Niko put his hand on her shoulder, giving Tris one of the pitying looks she never missed. The two walked in silence until they were within sight of the greenhouse.
"Is this the first letter you have received?" asked Niko.
Tris shook her head.
"When did the others come?"
"The first letter came five days ago."
"The greenhouse was damaged five days ago," he mused. "We also had a storm that day. Considering the number of protection spells on the glass, I can only conclude that you must have caused the damage."
Tris was offended. "I wouldn't do that!"
"Not on purpose, but you can still cause the weather to change when you are upset."
The argument was interrupted by the arrival of her housemate Briar and the limp Dedicate Crane. The latter wasted no time in setting her to work recording the plants lost and damaged when one of the glass walls shattered in the storm.