(Not a lot of action in this one, true, but I promise it will be back on track by the next chapter! See you people soon)

Chapter 35: The Memory

There was a knock on the door. This early? Marcia had no idea about who it could be until she opened the door. Even then, she had trouble seeing who it was. For a few seconds. The girl outside was dressed strangely, her hair elaborately braided and jewelry that jingled gently as she moved about. "Hi," Odale said shyly. She was home now. Finally.

Marcia hugged her. Tight. It was an unfamiliar, yet welcome feeling. Odale had missed the smell of Magyk, incense, and perfume, which clung to Marcia like a second cloak. "I'm so glad you're back," she said. There was a quiver to her voice, so small that a person less observant than Odale would never have caught it. "Finally. For a while I... I was worried. I don't know what I thought."

"I understand," Odale said curtly, worried that if she spoke too long, her voice would quiver as well, "I was worried, too."

"Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat? Some coffee?" Marcia asked.

"Yeah, sure," Odale said. She didn't even like coffee. All she wanted to do was to sit down in the kitchen for a while, see if it was like she remembered. Many, many times she'd tried to picture it in her mind, to remember it, but all that she had been able to see when she thought of the apartment, home, was Marcia, Septimus (both laughing), her mother's kitchen and her mother. Her mother... She had to get back to her, soon.

Marcia told the coffeepot to hurry up, for once, and set the table with bread and condiments. Odale smiled. It was the bread she was familiar with (what she had come to think of as Castle-bread), butter and jam. Unthinkable in the Snowplains. "How's it going with the ring?" Odale asked, taking a big bite of the piece of bread with apricot-jam spread thickly over it. She took great care not to spill on her clothes.

Her aunt sighed heavily, sat down with a cup of coffee of her own in front of Odale. "The Fyre is almost ready," Marcia said, "Almost, however..."

"However?"

"I fear that the ring might be very, very unstable," Marcia said. "I only hope that Marcellus gets it ready in time before..."

"Before what?" Odale asked, taking another bite. Her aunt sighed again.

"I don't know," Marcia said. "Something bad."

Odale swallowed hard.

Her tutor waved his thumb in her face. She, Laurine, had messed up. Really bad. The woman, Yolanda Frohm, had caught her, grabbed her wrist and dragged her inside to interrogate. Yolanda Frohm now laid on the ground in a pool of her own blood, staring blankly into the air, not blinking, not breathing. She was dead.

Laurine was shivering. She was seven. The Alexanders had been just around the corner, had heard the commotion and rushed to help. Then contacted DomDaniel, who was now standing in front of her, his eyes Darke with anger. "You were supposed to watch her," DomDaniel said coldly, "Only watch her, undetected. That's not very hard now, is it? And you, you stupid little wench, couldn't even do that. Now all my hard work was for naught. We had to kill her, and now she's not good for anything. Much like you."

He took a step forward and she whimpered, tried to make herself look small. She was happy Septimus (who had never really been Septimus) wasn't there to see. "I-I..." she sobbed. DomDaniel pushed her back, so hard that she fell. "See this?" he waved his thumb in her face again. "This could end you like it ended her, without me putting in much effort. Do you understand?"

He grabbed her by her hair. "Do you understand?" he repeated.

Laurine whimpered, nodded her head. "Yes, master," she murmured.

"Good," DomDaniel said, "Good, I- argh!"

Her master let go of her, dropped her to the floor and grasped his thumb. Laurine, mortified, crawled in under a nearby table. DomDaniel cursed, muttering: "No, no" over and over again. "Master?" Pullman approached DomDaniel, who was kneeling now. "Master, what is it?"

"The ring, it's... pulsating," DomDaniel said. The Alexanders exchanged looks.

"You don't think it is..?" Flarthy stammered.

"No, no, it can't be," DomDaniel said, "They'd never be able to-"

"Odale, what is it?" Marcia put a hand on her shoulder. "You're very pale. Did something happen over there?"

"I, uh, no," Odale muttered, "I was just thinking. About the ring. It's going to be way better when it's gone, isn't it?"

"There'll always be something else," Marcia said, "But I do believe it'll make the Castle safer. But..."

"What?" Odale asked. There was a question, heavy and uncomfortable, hanging in the air. She didn't know what it was, and she didn't really want to know. There was something about Marcia's language, her body language, and expression that made Odale incredibly uncomfortable.

"Are you sure nothing happened?" Marcia asked gingerly, looking Odale in the eyes. "I just want to know, in case you need... help."

"Help?" Odale was confused. "Why would I need help?"

"I know what the rebels are like," Marcia said, "They hurt people, especially girls, and I was worried they might've-"

Odale shook her head. "Nothing," she said. Marcia smiled faintly.

"Good," she said, "I was so worried..."

They hugged again, Marcia held her tight, but all Odale could think about was Alistair. Was he like that? He'd never put a hand on her, he would never have... or would he? She remembered the kiss on her cheek, and then his harsh, unfriendly grip on her in the dungeon. Maybe all that kindness had been a facade of sorts, but for what? "What'd I miss?" she asked, took another big bite. "It was a lot, wasn't it?"

Marcia sighed. "A months worth of work," she said, "Nothing you can't handle, I suspect, but still. I made a list of reading materials and Septimus took some notes for you. I've tried going over things you're already covered with your, er, former teacher, but you know that's getting increasingly difficult."

Odale wiped the crumbs on her hands off on her trousers, walked over to the pantry. "Are there any of those biscuits, those with raisins and nuts?" she asked, but Marcia didn't need to reply. Triumphantly, she pulled the box from behind a bag of rice. "I've missed those."

"You have?" Marcia seemed amused, "I thought you hated those."

"Uh-huh, they taste like cardboard," Odale said and gently nibbled on one, "But they taste like home, so I guess I missed 'em. Want one?"

Marcia declined. Odale took another one. "Morning," Septimus entered the room, yawning and rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Marcia, Odale."

"You don't have anything more to say?" Marcia raised an eyebrow.

"We met yesterday," Odale said sheepishly, "He came with Zamir when I asked Zamir to open the door for me. I'm sorry."

"We didn't want to wake you up," Septimus added, "Odale was so tired, and we were really busy yesterday, so..."

She didn't seem upset at all, to their relief. "I understand," Marcia said, "Even though I would have preferred it if you did. Ah well."

Her apprentices exchanged looks, then glanced down, muttering apologies. Then, Odale clenched her fist and winced. "Are you hurt?" Septimus asked, but Marcia was quicker than him. She grasped Odales hand, looked at her palm, and took a deep breath. Then another one. "What is it?"

"It's about the Thing, isn't it?" Marcia asked. Odale blinked twice, slowly, looking at Marcia as if she was speaking a foreign language.

"What thing?" she asked, throwing her head to the side. "I- agh!"

Marcia held her hand tightly. "Is It talking to you?" she asked softly, "It's downstairs, if you want to talk to It."

"How'd you find out?" Odale asked weakly, "Why..."

"I'm not mad at you," Marcia said, "But... you shouldn't have done it."

"I know," her voice was filled with remorse. But what could she have done? Little could have gotten hurt, an Little was her responsibility. "I... I'll just head over to mothers now, if that's okay with you..."

Marcia sighed. "You may go," she said, "But be back after lunch, you have plenty of work to do."

Septimus hurried of after her. "Odale, wait!" he said, "I'll follow you."