Part I: Blaze

Monday March 1, 1490

6:00 a.m. on a Monday morning. That cursed dog of mine woke me by licking me all over my face, and, for good measure, both my hands. "Timotheus," I threatened for the hundredth time, "Today is the day I'm selling you to the slave market!" But did he look even the slightest bit repentant? No, of course not. All he did was shake himself out, wheat-gold fur flying everywhere (guess who'd have to sweep that up?), and then hop off my bed to press his nose to the door.

In the other bed, Ynez moaned and flopped over, burrowing under the covers more securely. At this rate she was going to make us late to morning Enochian lecture yet again, and Astera would scold us again or, worse, give us one of those looks that said we were a disgrace to House Criamon, she didn't know why she'd admitted us to the orphanage in the first place, much less the House, and if we didn't develop a sense of responsibility she was going to demote both of us. At fourteen, Ynez was by far the youngest Adepta Maior we'd ever heard of, and I, at eighteen, had just been assigned the heady position of head (well only) librarian and was no more eager than Ynez for public humiliation in front of our brother- and sister-orphans. Especially when I'd grown up with most of them and they merrily flaunted my authority. Especially when Tel, my Twin Soul, would only laugh and say that I needed to relax.

Obviously there were many excellent reasons for shaking Ynez awake. But she was sleeping so soundly that I couldn't bear to.

Instead I dressed and opened the door as quietly as I could, then slipped out into the dark hallway. The dratted puppy nearly tripped me as he darted right between my legs to scratch at Tel's door, which was next to ours. I thought I heard a whuff from either Lily or Gus, who were not only Timo's but also Tel's parents in the bizarre way of Ars Animae, or Life magic. Not that I'd told Tel yet. I hadn't figured out a good way to say, "By the way, you know how your parents vanished when you were eight and these two friendly dogs started following you everywhere? They're your parents. You accidentally turned them into dogs. Oh, and Timo is your full brother. But I'm pretty sure he's entirely dog and not some crazy dog-human hybrid." Tel was one of the most mellow people I knew and would take it well (probably), but I wanted to do more research into dog-to-human transformations before saying anything.

Anyway, Tel was a heavy sleeper and very definitely not a morning person, so Timo's scratching failed to wake him. The two of us continued through the rest of the dormitory building, passing silent room after silent room. What angels the children were when they were asleep! Awake, they were constantly stealing books from the library just to annoy me, or getting into screaming fights in the yard, or whining at me to "help with" (i.e. do) their homework. For all my exasperation at Timo for waking me early, I did savor these rare moments of peace, when it was just him and me in the yard, with the orphanage buildings behind us and our cave system rising solidly on our right. Across the yard, leylines ran out from the Hearthstone, hidden somewhere deep within the Hearth caves, and branched out like aqueducts to carry magical energy throughout Athens. Not so far to the southeast soared the Acropolis, home to House Bonisagus and Hadrian's Library, and nearly directly to the east, the top of the Tower of the Winds caught the morning sunshine. I could imagine the mages of House Bjornaer emerging onto the balcony at the top to gaze out over the city as it woke. Next door to us, in the temple of Athena, the young priest Ghallim Favager, himself an orphan who'd spent a couple years with us, would be sweeping and scrubbing the marble steps before he set to work creating intricate magical artifacts, or Wonders. (Not that he believed it was magic — according to him, he merely prayed to Athena, and when the great goddess wished, she granted him boons.)

But it must be nearly 7:00 already! Calling Timo from his explorations, I hurried back into the dormitory building, noting that most of the bedrooms were open and empty already as the children dropped by the kitchen for a bite to eat before Enochian. Ynez, of course, had slept through the racket of slamming doors and running feet, so I shook her awake and then banged loudly on Tel's door.

"What is it?" he groaned.

"It's almost 7:00!" I called.

"Let me sleep a little longer."

"No! We're going to be late to class!"

"Wait...class is at 7:30. Class is always at 7:30. Marina, why are you waking me now?" he moaned.

"Remember? Astera is punishing all of us for that prank Sy pulled last week."

"That's not fair."

"Yeah, well, tell her that when we get to class."

A yelp inside. "Aaaargh! Gus, Lily, stop licking me!"

Satisfied that his parents would shepherd their wayward offspring to class, I headed back into the yard. Now it was filled with eleven- to fourteen-year-olds screaming gleefully as they tossed a ball back and forth or chased one another across the half-dead grass. Standing at the edge of the yard, I called, "It's time for class, everyone!"

Unusually, they instantly came bouncing up, showing surprising enthusiasm for an hour of writing and reciting ancient runes. Gordon, the leader of the children, who called themselves the "mice," did complain about being forced to learn a dead language, but I lectured him on the importance of understanding the language in which magic was developed and found an unexpected ally in Sy, the self-proclaimed devotee of the trickster gods Dolos and Apate. Leading a flock of children, I ran into the outer Hearth to our classroom and stepped across the threshold just as all the clocks in the city started chiming 7:00.

Magistra Scholae Astera, the Prima, or Head, of House Criamon of the Order of Hermes, glared at all of us but singled out me (unfairly, in my opinion) and Ynez for a special scolding. "I expected more from a member of House Criamon. Tardiness is unacceptable for an Adepta, Marina," she said severely, before rounding on Ynez. I could have explained that I was only almost late because I was rounding up the rest of the class for her, and if I were almost late, it was entirely their fault — but I didn't. Did the children appreciate it? Of course not.

As we slid hastily into our seats, I heard Tel whisper to Ynez, who looked as if she'd cry from chagrin, "Don't mind Astera." Timo curled up on (literally on) her feet in commiseration.

We were all saved from further scolding when Helen burst into the classroom, tugging Ghallim along behind her and insisting that he just had to come to class today. In his grave manner, he greeted Astera, who was after all his former matron too, and stood statue-like by the door to watch our lessons. He exchanged a nod with Ynez, whom he and the Athenian mayor, Avaris of the Crystal White Song, had rescued from the countryside four years ago. Ynez's entire family had traveled from Spain to escape the Plague, setting out for Athens before they heard about the Obscura, and then wandered around the outskirts of the city for weeks, starving slowly and dying from disease as they tried desperately to find the city walls. When the last of Ynez's family perished, her avatar had Awakened her and ordered her to scream for help via Ars Mentis. Avaris, who practiced Mind magic, had heard her cry and summoned Ghallim, and together they had located her and brought her to the orphanage. Ynez had never forgiven House Bonisagus for building the Obscura to hide Athens from refugees and sided firmly with Avaris (who was, after all, the elected leader of our city) and others who believed that we should help as many people as we could.

Astera began the day's lesson with a review of the Spheres, an elaborate system of categorizing magical usage. "Jamie," she said, selecting the child most likely to know the types by heart, "name the nine Spheres. I want both the Hermetic and the laymen terminology." (The other magical Traditions would probably object to being called "laymen," but luckily they weren't here. Also, they were long accustomed to Hermetic arrogance.)

Sitting up straight, Jamie promptly rattled them off. "Ars Essentiae, or Forces." That was the easiest one — all Hermetics could manipulate natural forces to some degree. Out of the orphans, I was the strongest at it. "Ars Fati, or Entropy." That was my other Sphere, which influenced uncertain events. "Ars Animae, or Life." When he managed to do magic at all, Tel was quite powerful there, as evidenced by his having transformed his parents into dogs when he was only eight. "Ars Mentis, or Mind." That was one of Ynez's specialties, the other being "Ars Manes, or Spirit." All of us had grown accustomed to the light touch of her curiosity spirit, which often tagged along after us. "Ars Vis, or Prime, and Ars Temporis, or Time." Whether he knew it or not, Ghallim used Ars Vis to create his Wonders, and, less conventionally, Ars Temporis to speed up healing. Now Jamie stumbled a little, trying to remember the last two Spheres, which none of us practiced. "Umm, Ars Conjunctionis, or Correspondence." That Sphere would have been very useful, allowing us to scry or even teleport, but none of us had gotten around to studying it yet. "And the last one, umm…." Catching his eye, Helen pointed at her desk, and Jamie finished in a rush, "Ars Materiae, or Matter."

"Very good," Astera praised, choosing to overlook Helen's help.

She next reviewed how the Effects corresponding to each Sphere were divided into five ranks based on difficulty. For example, with a second rank in Ars Essentiae, you could raise a shield against fire (which was particularly useful when you lived right next to the Hearth). With a third rank, you could fly — that was definitely one of my favorites. I had mastered the fourth rank as well, with which I could control major forces, but I had yet to encounter a situation where I needed to summon a storm or create an inferno. With just one more rank, I'd know how to transmute the major forces, and then I could level forests or even sink fleets if I wished. All but a handful of mages throughout the world stopped at the fifth rank in a given Sphere, but it was possible to achieve a sixth after decades of grueling study. Anyone who succeeded won the appellation of "archmage" and, within the Order of Hermes at least, the somewhat pompous title of Magister Mundi. (Then again, archmages of the ninth degree did tend to think highly of themselves.)

To pass the Adeptus exam and achieve formal recognition as mages of the sixth degree, Tel and I had had to demonstrate competence in the third rank in any Sphere (Ars Essentiae for both of us). Ynez was an Adepta Maior, or a mage of the seventh degree, because she had achieved four ranks in Ars Manes, three in Ars Mentis, and one in Ars Essentiae. (This meant that if I studied just one more Sphere, I could also test for Adepta Maior and catch up to her.) Ghallim probably corresponded to an Adeptus, but as he had declined to join House Criamon, he hadn't taken any of the exams and had no formal title.

The standard way in which a mage of any Tradition wielded magic was to use a Focus to guide the Effect. Most Hermetics chanted or wrote Enochian runes to channel their magic, but Astera had never discouraged us from exploring different avenues, and as a result we'd accumulated a diverse set of Foci amongst ourselves. I'd discovered that whittling little wooden figures cleared my mind for Ars Essentiae Effects, and that Ars Fati Effects flowed more naturally through the medium of poetry. Ynez liked to use candles and mirrors for Artes Manes and Mentis, although she did chant in Enochian for Ars Essentiae. Ghallim's Focus was prayer to Athena, of course, although he'd never admit it. Tel's was (or were) extremely unclear — just as unclear as the reason that he couldn't do magic deliberately.

Knowing that we rarely used Enochian, Astera assigned Ynez and me tedious busywork copying runes over and over as punishment for our almost-tardiness and then asked the others to recite aloud. Tel immediately volunteered, but his pronunciation was so terrible that I cringed and hastily focused all my attention on my own work. (Timo must have agreed with me, because he stood up, shook himself head to tail, and sauntered out of the classroom.) Blessedly for all our ears, Tel soon fell asleep in the warm room — this close to the Hearthstone, its heat was palpable. Still, if I were ever to get our shared avatar, the being inside our minds that enabled us to do magic, to her full potential, I needed him to learn how to control his magic, so from time to time I poked him. Astera's sharp eyes missed nothing, but when he felt her gaze, he unleashed his most charming smile on her, and she shook her head ruefully before going on to correct Sy's pronunciation.

Did I mention that Tel was so ridiculously handsome that Zeus was probably coming soon to bear him off to Mount Olympus, and that he happily used his charm to avoid doing whatever he didn't feel like doing? Life just wasn't fair sometimes.

Lil, who was only twelve but had Awakened already and dreamed of joining House Criamon someday, had slid all the way to the edge of her seat to peek inquisitively at Ynez's exercises. She flushed bright red when Tel caught her eye and winked. Noticing their exchange, Ynez turned to check Lil's work. I, too, peered over but was distracted by a loud sneeze from Helen.

"Oh, Marina," I heard Ynez warn me in her lilting Spanish accent, "There's something wrong —"

I spun around quickly, the motion knocking my inkwell straight off my desk into my open satchel — and completely drenching the three rare volumes of magical history that I'd sworn under penalty of being flayed alive to return to Hadrian's Library in exactly the same condition.

And now black ink was soaking into the precious pages.

I couldn't even remember bringing my satchel to class. Had I grabbed it when I woke Ynez? I certainly didn't remember bringing the books. Why would I ever have brought the books? Why weren't they locked safely in my desk in the library?

" — there's something wrong with that inkwell," Ynez finished a little weakly as I let out a high-pitched shriek.

She and Lil rushed over to help rescue the books, but it was much, much too late. The damage had been done. On every page, ink had obliterated the beautiful calligraphy and delicate illuminations until only the faintest outlines remained. As I sat on the floor, with ink staining my hands and clothing, staring blankly at what once had been the last extant copy of Herodotus' De Historia Artium Magicarum, I was only dimly aware that Tel and the rest of the class had dissolved into hysterical laughter.

Ghallim suddenly appeared beside me. "Zees eez terrible damage!" he exclaimed in the French accent he'd never lost even after twelve years in Greece. "We should do all we can to protect ze knowledge of mankind." Taking Volume One from me, he prayed to Athena to remove the ink.

Nothing happened.

Now the ink was drying and stiffening all the pages.

"What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?" I moaned, trying hard not to cry.

Ghallim peered into my satchel and probed cautiously at the inkwell. "Eet's a minor Wonder," he said thoughtfully. "Eet was designed to teep over." Given how many Wonders he had made himself, I trusted his expertise. Not that it was much help now, unless he created an ink-eraser on the spot.

Ynez examined it too and announced, "The ink was made to soak into things. The Resonance is...studious?" Did we know anyone who performed magic with a studious Resonance?

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Astera had lifted Sy into the air using Ars Essentiae and was shouting furiously at him, "Sylvester! That was not funny! You're fourteen years old and you should know better! You're grounded for a week for disrupting class!"

"Awww, Magistra," he whined but didn't deny involvement. Sy was the ringleader in all the children's pranks, and after so many years he didn't even bother to try to maintain plausible deniability. He knew none of us would believe him anyway, and he had better things to do. Such as planning the next prank.

"Class is dismissed!" Astera announced, in too much of a rage to continue teaching.

Gordon and Jamie exchanged broad grins, but before anyone could move, a baleful aura began to pulse at the back of the classroom, where Ashton, a quiet boy who had never quite fit in, was hard at work on his Enochian exercises. Apparently they weren't going too well, because his desk was surrounded by balls of crumpled parchment. To our shock, even as we watched, the parchment balls were realigning themselves on the floor. Ominous green smoke began to rise in wisps from the smoldering pile. I stared dumbly at it, thinking, But how can he do magic at all? He isn't even Awakened!

Tel was the first to react. "Hey, Ashton," he called casually, "did you bring a stink bomb?"

Absorbed in his work, Ashton jerked up in surprise and gaped at the parchment balls. In just a few seconds, the green smoke had built up into a sensation of impending Paradox. Before anyone could take a step towards him, a magical shockwave threw all of us backwards and filled the classroom with an acrid green haze. I struck the edge of a desk hard and slid to the ground, all the breath knocked out of me.

"That was a Practicus-level Effect," Ynez whispered from nearby, naming a mage of the third degree. I could also sense that somehow, incredibly, Ars Manes had been involved. But what was a Sleeper child doing channeling spirits? And how?

For one brief, frozen moment, we lay scattered around the classroom, dazed by the explosion and choking on the smoke, and listened numbly to Ashton's painful coughing. Then Tel leaped up and dashed over to the boy, brandishing his Enochian textbook and chanting an Ars Animae incantation for a healing Effect. Miraculously, despite his atrocious accent, it partially eased the cough.

Astera, too, ran over as fast as a non-athletic middle-aged woman hampered by a long dress could be expected to run. As she dropped to her knees beside Ashton and began examining him gently, Ghallim hastily started to usher the children out of the smoky room. Most of them were also doubled over, wheezing and gasping for air.

"I'll get ze worst cases to 'Ouse Bjornaer," he called back to Astera, who nodded in a distracted way.

That left Tel, Ynez, and me in the classroom with Astera and Ashton. Well, what were Adepti and Adepti Maiores for? Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a piece of wood I was whittling into a dog and used the carving as a Focus for an Ars Essentiae Effect to blow all the smoke into a corner. Embarrassingly, it failed to do anything, and Tel laughed at what I deemed a most inappropriate time for humor.

Even more embarrassingly, Ynez recited a few Enochian runes (her Ars Essentiae Focus) and expertly compressed all the smoke into a malevolent-looking, spinning green ball. (There was a reason she outranked me and had ousted me as resident precocious child mage — not that I'd ever admit it to anyone.)

With the smoke gone, Ashton's coughing finally stopped.

At about that time, Tel belatedly realized that he'd actually done a deliberate piece of Awakened magic. "Did you see that?" he asked, staring around in amazement. "I did that! I fixed Ashton!"

Astera, however, was too preoccupied with stabilizing Ashton to encourage him. "Very good, dear," she said, before calling for Ghallim to report on the other children.

"Zey are all right!" His voice drifted back in from the yard. "Zey stopped coughing as soon as I got zem away from ze smoke." As if in confirmation, we heard a childish shriek of delight, "Ghallim! I tagged you! You're It!"

At least that was one less thing to worry about.

Too excited to feel rebuffed, Tel turned to me. "It worked, Marina!" He paused and frowned. "But why did it work?"

I knew exactly how to find out. "We'll go to the library," I said. I'd already composed a mental list of useful books.

At the word "library," Tel's face sagged. "Aww, Marina, do we have to?" he pleaded.

"Yes," I said firmly and would have added more if Astera had not stood abruptly. Cradling an unconscious Ashton in her arms, she spoke not a word to any of us as she strode through the door of the classroom and turned right. We exchanged glances. If she were heading deeper into the caves, she must be taking him to her sanctum near or maybe even at the Hearthstone itself!

No one but the Prima of House Criamon had ever seen the Hearthstone, that legendary power source we had guarded for centuries. Over four hundred years ago, a bitterly cold winter had followed right on the heels of the worst famine in decades, and much of Athens had fled to more hospitable cities. The old matron of the orphanage had perished, some said from a cold she caught while out searching for help, some said from starvation as she stretched the food stores to feed the children, and left the orphans to huddle miserably by the dying warmth of the fireplace. It was a young mage, Despina Delios bani Criamon, who came across the forgotten children, rekindled the hearth, and shepherded them through the rest of that terrible winter. Sparked by the trauma, many of them Awakened young, and Despina founded the Athenian branch of House Criamon at the orphanage, which was ever after known as the Forgotten Orphanage.

In memory of the warmth that had saved the children's lives, House Criamon kept the hearth burning strong like a sacred flame, and over the centuries, the hearthstone itself burned through the floor, carving out spacious caves and twisting tunnels in the hillside by the orphanage until at last it came to a rest somewhere deep underground. Its warmth continued to fill the cave system, which was named the Hearth in its honor, and it was Despina and some of her pupils who first suspected that the Hearthstone had transformed into a powerful Node. They and their successors gradually developed ways to access and harness its Primal energy, or Quintessence, beyond simply tapping into the warmth of the outer Hearth, but only the Prima and the Secunda, her second-in-command, ever knew those secrets. The magical power itself House Criamon was happy to share with all of Athens, and so the Forgotten Orphanage also morphed into a holy site, even if our eccentricity discouraged pilgrims and prevented us from ever playing a significant role in politics. Avaris visited often, but in an unofficial capacity as Ynez's mentor, and such was our reputation that no one even considered accusing Astera of taking advantage of this arrangement to influence the mayor. (Not that it would have worked — Avaris was well-nigh incorruptible.)

As long as House Criamon continued to supply Athens with Quintessence, mages and Sleepers alike left us to our idiosyncratic ways. (Although all the Hermetic mages we met smirked or laughed outright when they learned our Spheres: House Criamon was supposed to specialize in Artes Temporis and Manes, but Astera never forced us to study anything against our will, and so we'd branched out in highly unconventional directions.) Well, the mages mostly left us alone. Magister Mundi Thoren, the Bonisagi Primus, whose House specialized in Ars Vis and who researched engineering uses of Quintessence and its stored form, Tass, kept asking and threatening and begging Astera to let him to see the Hearthstone itself, but to no avail. Astera allowed him to channel energy from it, and that was it.

But now that Astera was clearly carrying Ashton into the inner Hearth, here was our chance to follow her and see the Hearthstone ourselves! And help her heal Ashton, of course. Surely she couldn't object to that.

Oh, but my books! I needed to fix them before the ink dried completely and permanently destroyed them.

After whipping my head back and forth between the books and the door, I made the agonizing decision to stay. Tel, having no such compunction, sauntered boldly after Astera. Ynez, good girl that she was, turned away in a furtive manner. She probably thought she was being sneaky, but her body couldn't entirely shield the glow of her candle, and I guessed that she was summoning her curiosity spirit to follow Astera.

After examining the pages, I concluded that the best strategy was to expel the ink by force. Again I whittled at my little dog, calling upon Ars Essentiae to drive the ink from the parchment — and the book immediately burst into a roaring inferno. Panicking, I threw myself on top of it in a desperate attempt to smother the fire, which may or may not have helped the book but certainly didn't do me any good. The scent of scorched cloth began to fill the air.

Meanwhile, Ynez had noticed Sy and the others hanging around the doorway, watching me and giggling. She stormed up to them, drew herself up to full (short) height, and demanded furiously, "What did you do?"

Holding his belly and gasping for breath, Sy gleefully explained that Jamie had copied the books using ink Helen had created that would catch fire if I used magic on it. Striving for an air of innocence, he protested, "We wouldn't damage the actual books." To prove his point, Jamie pulled out one of the originals.

"That's not funny!" Ynez raged, doing an excellent impression of Astera. "Return it and apologize immediately."

"You're no fun, Ynez." But Jamie did let her march him over to me. "Here, Marina," he said, reluctantly and somewhat guiltily extending the book to me. "We would never destroy a book."

Perhaps he expected a good lecture on what Ancient Philosopher So-and-So said about the evils of theft, but I surprised both of us by bursting into tears instead. Faced with this appalling display of girly emotion, Jamie hastily shoved the book into my hands and ran away as if I had the Plague. Seeing that I was torn between clutching the book to my chest and holding it away from my clothing so it wouldn't get sooty, Ynez took it gently and then awkwardly but endearingly put an arm around me. At moments like this, I didn't mind that she was both four years younger and one rank higher.

"Ghallim," she called out, petting my shoulder in a comforting way, "can you come look at Marina?"

Ghallim, who must have had his hands full dealing with the children all by himself and was probably grateful for an excuse to escape a rambunctious game of Tag, entered the classroom at record speed. He looked me over and patched me up quickly with one of his foul herbal ointments. "Ze burns are not serious," he explained, "but ze smoke, eet did not 'elp your lungs."

Helen, who'd followed him back inside, scuffed her foot a little and muttered to the floor that she hadn't known what Sy and Jamie planned to do with the ink. "I'm sorry, Marina," she said, looking at my bandages, burned clothing, and ink-stained hands, and seeming to be on the verge of tears herself.

I didn't have the heart to scold. "It's all right," I reassured her and sent her back outside to play with her friends.

It was a sentiment that Ghallim obviously didn't share. Praying to Athena (a combined Ars Vis and Ars Temporis Effect, I guessed), he tried to reconstruct what had happened. As he muttered to himself, he looked more and more confused. Sy had used a little deflective trickery in his prank — but it wasn't Awakened magic. So what was it? And then there had been a magical Effect with a "fitting tragedy" feel to it — no one in the room had wanted the green smoke and explosion, but they had somehow been appropriate. What was that all about? Finally, Astera herself had an ongoing Effect to keep everyone away from the Hearth, but that at least was normal. I could practically hear Ghallim thinking, What's wrong with this orphanage? What's wrong with these children?

"Ghallim!" Having entirely forgotten her guilt over the ink, Helen sped back inside to wrap her arms around him and then tug at his hand. "Come play with us! We're starting a game of Red Rover!"

"Not right now, child," he said, trying gently to disentangle himself.

"You're no fun!" she accused.

"Zat eez accurate."

She gave him another hug and ran off. Ah, children!

Ynez cautiously picked up a piece of crumpled parchment and smoothed it out for us to read. What we saw was a horribly failed attempt at a basic Enochian exercise. Poor Ashton! He really hadn't understood the problem at all! I made a mental note to tutor him later. Ynez, Ghallim, and I checked the rest of the parchment balls, but apart from bearing horrible abominations of Enochian runes, we saw nothing that could have triggered an explosion.

Just then, Tel strode back in, shirtless and sweaty and as chiseled as a Greek hero of old. Upon seeing him (or more precisely, his abs), Ynez turned red, dropped the parchment she was holding, and very pointedly avoided looking in his direction.

Having spent my entire life in Athens, I was less easily flustered by the sight of half-naked men. I scolded, "Tel, that is so inappropriate. Put your shirt back on!"

Holding it easily in one hand, he argued amiably, "Didn't we go to the Olympic Games together? What about all those naked athletes? Were they being inappropriate?"

"That was entirely different," I sniffed and supported my stance with arguments about the importance of modesty from Plato, Socrates, and every other ancient philosopher I could remember. (Actually, I made up most of the quotations, but Tel would never know. Maybe I shouldn't encourage him to visit the library after all.)

More to stop the lecture than anything, he put his shirt back on. Ynez sneaked a peek in his direction and looked relieved. Her Spanish Catholic habits were really quite amusing sometimes.

Given the sort of day we were having, of course any illusion of normalcy was short lived. The next thing we knew, a loud roar accompanied by Ars Essentiae-enhanced stomping rattled the caves.

"It's Verrus!" Tel exclaimed happily and flew out into the yard. His mentor, an Adeptus Maior from House Bjornaer (where Tel probably belonged because it specialized in Ars Animae), made no attempt to be subtle when he took lion form and was known to petrify newcomers to Athens. Perhaps it was a good thing Thoren had set up the Obscura, however much Avaris might scream about humanitarianism, because at least now there were fewer stampedes when a humongous lion popped up in the Agora.

Despite their standard Greek mentor-mentee romantic relationship, that roar hadn't sounded at all friendly. Ghallim hastened after Tel in a dignified, priestly sort of way. "Stay here," I ordered Ynez, who protested indignantly, "But Marina, I'm a woman grown!"

Not wanting to miss whatever was happening outside, I snapped, "Stay behind me then!" and pattered out after Ghallim. For once, Ynez meekly obeyed and trotted at my heels.

Out in the empty yard — the children long since having dispersed to play elsewhere or (one could only hope) do homework — we saw a pride of lions and Tel with his arms around the alpha lion's neck. As far as I could tell from its expression, it didn't think having its mane squashed was very dignified but found Tel too charming to shake off.

"He's hunting," Tel explained to us. "He found some Plague-ridden bears so we're going to take care of them." Then he attempted to shape-shift into a lion to join the hunt.

At least, that's the shape I assumed he wanted to take, and not a two-headed squirrel that immediately began to vomit copious amounts of green gunk all over the grass. Behind me, Ynez gagged a little while the Verrus-lion stared down at his protege in comical dismay.

When the squirrel had finished ejecting the contents of its stomach, it flopped over on its back, begging to be petted. Smart, Tel, exposing your belly to a predator. What if Verrus loses control of his lion instincts? I was about to point that out when the lion suddenly snatched him up in its jaws and bounded off.

"What!" shouted Ghallim in surprise.

As the rest of the pride loped after Verrus, Ghallim uttered a fervent prayer to Athena beseeching her to speed his sandals and then flew after them, running as fast as a gazelle. At the same time, I frantically whittled the dog into a lion and cast an Ars Essentiae Effect to stop Verrus. It wasn't at all elegant, but he jerked to a sudden halt as if the air around him had turned solid. Spitting out Tel (who landed in Ghallim's hair and immediately began to pet and comb it), Verrus let out a roar of frustration that rattled the windows of the orphanage.

Ynez, more diplomatically, had used her mirrors to open a polite mind link with Verrus and Tel. Her eyes opened wide as she processed their conversation. "Oh my," she said. "Adeptus Maior Verrus wants to fight us!"

"Fight us! Why?" I exclaimed.

"Oh no, he wants Tel to fight us," she corrected herself. "He's supposed to assert his dominance over us."

Now that, given Tel's utter incompetence at magic — which we would be researching right now if Verrus hadn't so inconsiderately interrupted us — was the silliest thing I'd heard all day. It had not been a good morning. First Timo had woken me early, then Astera had publicly humiliated me when I wasn't even late to lecture, then Sy and Jamie had pulled their cruelest prank yet, then Ashton had blown up the classroom with a freak magical backlash, and now we were supposed to fight Tel? And what would happen when — not if — we won? Would the Verrus-lion savage us in retaliation?

"Tell Verrus that's a terrible idea," I snapped.

"Well," suggested Ghallim, who was closest to said lion's jaws, "perhaps you could phrase eet a leettle more diplomatically?"

"Adeptus," said Ynez a little tentatively, "perhaps now is not the best time?" She looked meaningfully at the mutant squirrel cavorting on the priest's head.

Evidently Verrus agreed with her reasoning, because he transformed Tel into the most adorable lion cub ever, which tumbled off Ghallim's head, padded up to Verrus, and licked him affectionately. If Tel didn't tone down the cuteness factor, I was going to turn into a two-headed squirrel and start vomiting copiously. Verrus ran off again, the rest of his pride flowing after him and Tel stumbling along behind. Belatedly, I yelled after him, "Come back! We need to research your magic!"

He did indeed return, but only to rub his head against my legs and turn over for some more belly rubbing. Did I mention that I had a hard time saying no to cute animals? I found myself petting his tummy and grudgingly promising that I'd do the research while he tracked down the big scary bears.

As soon as the lions vanished into the distance, I blinked and couldn't for the life of me remember why I'd said that.

Although Ynez wanted to follow them, just then Astera emerged from the caves carrying Ashton, who appeared to be sound asleep. Even without Ars Vis, I got the sense that something had been dramatically spiritually misaligned and she'd had to work a massive ritual to partially realign it. She certainly looked old and haggard, and she stumbled a little over the uneven ground.

"Ashton is fine," she assured us. "I'm going to take him back to his room." Then she added cryptically, "Being isolated can be dangerous." Before we could ask what she meant, she continued in a tired tone, "Marina, you're in charge while I rest."

Well, of course I was in charge of the orphanage. I'd been helping her with administrative tasks for years — Mother Doria, our cook, reported grocery expenses to me because I kept the accounts, and Calla, our kitchen maid who also did the cleaning and laundry, double-checked household tasks with me. I was also the one responsible for making the children do their assigned chores — and believe me, that was a full-time job in itself! But for all that I had proved my reliability and maturity repeatedly, Astera still refused to share her magical duties and projects with me. What little she did reveal, she told Ynez in private, and Ynez refused to say anything because our mother had told her to keep it a secret. It was very annoying.

"Wait, Astera! What's going on?" we called, but she walked off in the direction of the dormitory wing without acknowledging us. Typical.

Ynez turned to Ghallim with an anxious expression. "Ghallim, when you were here, was there anything odd about the children?"

He thought about it. "Well, cliques are not anything unusual," he replied hesitantly.

Although their discussion sounded interesting, I had an orphanage to run while Astera was out of commission. Leaving them to talk, I rounded up the children, set half to their assigned chores, put the rest to work practicing Enochian, and checked on the kitchen to make sure we'd have dinner on time. As if to apologize for his prank, Jamie tagged along throughout and did his best to be helpful. When we finally reached the library, I thought of the most appropriate punishment for him. "Since you're so good at copying books that even I couldn't tell the difference, why don't you copy these before I return them to Hadrian's Library?" And I casually handed the three volumes of De Historia Artium Magicarum back to him.

His expression was a satisfying mix of pride at being entrusted with such a momentous task, and dismay at the sheer amount of work involved. But he did obediently copy one and a half books in impeccable calligraphy before I relented and let him run off to play with the others. "Come back tomorrow to finish!" I called after his back.

"I will!" he promised without slowing. Whether he'd actually remember was another matter, but I could deal with that later. In the meantime, I needed to research mages who had difficulty working magic.

My — well, House Criamon's — library was housed in a separate, smaller building next to the dormitory. In the shadow of the combined warehouse and overflow dormitory building, the library had originally been storage space for Hearth records. We had centuries and centuries of logs, going all the way back to fragile papyrus scrolls assiduously protected from the ravages of time by Ars Temporis wards. These logs contained a wealth of data on the status of the Hearth, who had accessed it, and when and why. Astera, in particular, kept detailed notes on how much energy had been channeled to Thoren and Magistra Scholae Tessa of House Bjornaer, which always came in handy when they started to fight over who had received more power in a given month. Even the Hearth's energy wasn't infinite, and it needed to fuel not only the Obscura and the Aegis, which Thoren had built to block the Plague itself, but also whatever spell Tessa used to shield our crops from the Plague's magical blight. Some months we ran a little short, or at least didn't supply enough Quintessence to satisfy their voracious demands, and they showed up on our doorstep to complain. Having spent all but my first two years at the orphanage, I'd seen enough of them to recognize their moods. Tessa was definitely the more hotheaded of the two, and when she visited, I often heard screaming matches drifting out of the Hearth from the direction of Astera's office. However, she and her House had been in Athens for twenty years, so she'd watched me grow up and, whatever her mood, usually gave me a piece of fresh fruit and a smile when she saw me. (If Tel were a latter-day Ganymede, then Tessa was Helen of Troy. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.) On the other hand, Thoren, despite his more even temper, seemed much more intimidating, perhaps because he was an archmage of Ars Vis.

I still remembered the awed whispers and rumors that had run through all the marketplaces in Athens when he led a dozen Bonisagi through the city gates five years ago. They came from Norway, that exotic land of snow and ice, and stood over a head taller than the average Athenian, and were blond haired and blue eyed besides. Immediately upon their arrival, House Bonisagus claimed the Acropolis, ousting several prominent political families and setting the tone for their subsequent actions. Despite barely weathering several ostracization votes, the Bonisagi continued to flout public opinion and even democratic procedure when it ran counter to their purposes. The success of the Obscura and Aegis meant that Athenians grumbled but acquiesced, and that talented young mages flocked to House Bonisagus until it swelled to a good thirty members plus something on the order of fifty apprentices. (By contrast, House Bjornaer couldn't have had more than twenty mages and a similar number of apprentices, and House Criamon had, well, the four of us plus Lil and maybe sort of Ghallim.) By occupying the Acropolis, House Bonisagus had also taken de facto possession of Hadrian's Library and its troves of books and scrolls, which it closed to anyone not House affiliated, so serious mage scholars, such as Irene, now their head librarian, were forced to join as well.

For all my pride in my little library, no one was ever going to turn Criamoni just for access to it. A couple centuries ago, someone (probably the Prima, but perhaps one of her subordinates) had transformed the storage shed into an actual library, arranging the logbooks on rows of shelves in the back half of the room and reserving entire bookcases near the front for manuscripts on magical history, the art and practice of magic, the history of Athens, and more general texts. Successive librarians had added gradually to the collection, sometimes by rescuing pieces of parchment that had flown off the top of the Tower of the Winds (House Bjornaer assumed they'd lose documents all the time and kept multiple copies around), but usually by borrowing volumes from other Houses and copying them. Even though Hadrian's Library was closed to us now, I had a standing arrangement with the Bonisagi Secunda, Adepta Maior Leona. We'd become acquainted when Thoren began sending her to the orphanage for meetings with Astera, and she'd agreed to check out books for me in exchange for, shall we say, unofficial use of Hearth energy. (No, this did not go into the logs.) I was always very careful with the books and returned them promptly, so eventually she secured permission from Irene to bring me into the library itself. I still wasn't allowed to touch any of the shelves — Irene screamed at me the first time I tried to reach for a book — but Leona was more than happy to borrow anything I wanted, and Jamie and I stayed busy copying manuscripts. My personal goal was to expand our library into a latter-day Library of Alexandria although, admittedly, we were still a long way from that.

Collecting a stack of dusty tomes (time to renew those wards), I brought them back to my desk by the door. As I read, I lost all track of time, and barely noticed when Timo padded in and pawed at my leg, begging to be picked up. Absentmindedly, I dragged him into my lap and was completely engrossed in Thomas Perseius' account of his unorthodox training by a hedge witch when Ynez wandered in, picked up an Advanced Enochian textbook, and curled up in one of the extra padded chairs I kept around. To our surprise, Ashton showed up next, looking exhausted and very much as if he should be lying in bed still.

"I don't feel so well," he said weakly.

"Would you like some water?" Ynez immediately asked. She rushed to the kitchen while I laid a hand on his forehead to check for a fever. He felt normal.

When Ynez returned with a glass, he gulped it down gratefully and said in a distant sort of way, "I just haven't been feeling well for a while now. I feel like I just don't belong with the others anymore."

"What do you mean? How exactly do you feel? How long has it been?" To our anxious queries, he replied only vaguely, "Oh, it's been a while" and "I feel as if I'm not all here."

Helpfully, I quoted Chronodorus' Treatise on Friendship: "'To be a good friend, you must be present in heart and mind and soul,'" and even lifted the illuminated volume down from a high shelf and handed it to him. Normally I didn't let any of the children touch the more rare books, but he seemed to need special comforting.

Ashton flipped the pages carefully, pausing to admire the colorful illustrations. "Will you be my friends?" he asked, glancing up from the book.

"Of course," we assured him. Ynez pulled out her mirrors and covertly observed him in one of them to read his mind — every image showed an older, lonely Ashton.

How to cheer him? I cast about for ideas and gave him a wooden dog from my desk. (Normally I didn't like the children touching my carvings, so of course they stole or rearranged them all the time, egged on by Sy.) Ashton accepted the dog eagerly, then looked disappointed as if he had expected something to happen at his touch.

Still in that distant tone, he said, "I don't know why I thought you could help. I should go lie down," and stood to leave.

"Would you like one of us to sit with you?" I asked.

He hesitated. "Well, yes, that would be nice."

Ynez and I exchanged looks. "I'll go," she offered. She'd always been better at comforting young children — I was more the disciplinarian type.

After the two of them returned to the dormitory, I tried to continue reading Perseius, but I was too anxious to focus. I was wandering around the library restlessly and straightening books when another loud roar shook the entire building. That one didn't sound like a lion. It sounded like...a dragon? The smell of smoke and the crackling of fire rent the air. Piercing shrieks and urgent barking filled the yard outside.

"Fire! Fire!"

"What happened?"

"I don't know! The library's on fire!"

As I looked around my bookshelves in a panic, I felt a snap in the air and the searing heat of uncontrolled energy. Timo at my heels, I dashed outside just in time to watch one of the caves collapse from the torrent of magical power gushing out. Within seconds, its fury had vaporized a section of one of the leylines leading out of the cave, but the Quintessence simply leaped through the air in great arcs of green lightning and roared down the rest of the leyline leading towards the south of Athens.

One by one, all the other leylines fell dark.