Hi. Revisited my first fic recently and got to thinking in more detail about what happened to Sonea and Akkarin inbetween the final chapter of my fic, and the epilogue . How did they come to terms with what had happened to them, and how easily did the other members of the Guild accept the prescence of two such closely allied Black Magicians? Below is a short prologue to give you a flavour. I have sketched out the first couple of chapters after this and will carry on if anyone out there thinks it's worth it! More hurt/comfort than high drama, but there is a little tension going on. You need to have read my first fic,'There are no easy endings', to have the foggiest about what's going on! It all belongs to Trudi!

Prologue.- Wounded

The young woman leaned forward in the chair and stared out of the window. She put her elbows on the sill, resting her chin on her hands. The dove grey sky seemed flat and two dimensional, the clouds merging into one. Robed figures went about their business below, hurrying to tutorials and meetings as if, only weeks before nothing had happened. The fine rain made contact with the invisible shields surrounding each magician creating strangely beautiful watery globes.

Though the watcher at the window looked, she did not really see. Her dark eyes were not focused on the mundane scene outside her window. Her gaze was turned inwards, recalling things from her memory that she would rather forget.

She suddenly sighed and her eyes snapped into focus on the reflection that stared back at her from the window pane. A pale, too thin, face framed by almost black hair, a full mouth that nevertheless seemed pinched, and large dark brown eyes that bore an expression that made the owner of the reflection shudder; fear, wariness and...

...Weakness, Sonea thought, as she watched the rain hit the window and trace rivulets of water down her reflection. She tasted a salty wetness on her lips and realised it was not just the rain she saw marring her face in the glass.

Is this what it will be like for me now? She wondered. Scared to leave this room, wary of anyones touch or attention; weak and defeated, even though I live?

Two young brown robed novices caught Sonea's eye below. They shared a joke and laughed, their heads inclined towards each other. A sudden memory flashed into Sonea's mind of being with Cery, Donia and the rest of Harrin's gang long ago. They were sat in a cold cramped room, dirty and hungry, but laughing at one of Harrin's failed pranks so much that their sides hurt. She remembered the girl she had been; not exactly carefree, but determined, independent and...

...."Strong." She whispered to the pale woman in the glass.

The common room of the bolhouse was warm and foggy with smoke; the swirling haze humming with voices animated by bol. No-one paid much attention to the two unusually quiet and well dressed figures huddled at a table in the farthest corner. They leaned towards each other, a glint of watchful eyes from beneath the shadow of hoods.

"She has gained favour in some high places. It will have to be something unforgivable, something final." A low voice whispered.

"I agree. They are fools for trusting her. She sought only to save herself – and her lover." Another, higher pitched, voice spat; the contempt and hate seething and unmistakable.

"But what can the supposed saviour of the city do that will negate the new status she is carving for herself?" The first deeper voice pondered.

"There is one thing would result in her probable execution and show her for the untrustworthy slum whore she is. The best outcome we can hope for." The second voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper, its owner leaning in to speak directly into the ear of the other hooded figure.

"What is that?" The first voice breathed in surprised anticipation.

The higher pitched voice became clipped with excited triumph. "Sonea's unauthorised use of Black Magic."

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