~~~~~~~~~~
And so, five months later, the Circle returned to the tiny cottage and they set off on horseback and wagon towards Emelan.
Shemonah gurgled and waved her tiny hands the whole way, curly brown hair growing so profusely that the child would have locks down to her ankles by the time she was ten years old. "She likes traveling," Sandry commented one afternoon, as the little thing attempted to drag herself over towards the saddles.
"Oh, then she's the lucky one," Tris grumbled as Sandry went to pick up the baby and return her to the makeshift cradle.
And all four of the mages sweated and worried about the Mastery, as the handful of elders would sit and question them. With psychoanalysis as their primary weapon, the magic wouldn't spare a single corrupt aspect of their minds.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Vedris felt the healer wipe the sweat from his forehead, but his arms felt like two blocks of lead. Their whispers worried him, but when he attempted to question them, Moonstream would smile her sweetest and most stubbornly and pat his head like a lap dog.
"What.." he croaked.
"Hush, your Grace," the assistant healer told him. "You must rest."
In the hallway, footsteps clattered along the stone floor. "Dratted mages," Moonstream muttered. "Can't they be quiet?" Walking to the door, she opened it with an annoyed flourish. "Be quieter! He's trying to rest."
The duke snorted, but the young healer (what was his name? Bran? Bean?) forcefully pushed his head back down to the pillow.
Niko stuck his head in. "Sorry, Moonstream." In a whisper, meant not to reach the patient's ears, he mumbled, "Our Circle is back. All of them. So the Masters are extremely excited, but we'll be softer."
"All of them? You've found all of them? Even..." Moonstream's voice faded as they stepped into the hall.
"What?" Vedris attempted to sit up, but found himself short of breath within a moment. The young man looked at him, hand firmly keeping him prone.
"Stop that, sir, with all due respect." His droll voice, slightly sarcastic, dulled the duke's anger.
"But my niece..."
"She'll still be here after you rest," Bran/Bean replied. "What is she going to do, run away?"
With a weak smile, Vedris shook his head. "Then you don't know Sandry..."
His eldest son, with his stuffy wife and spoiled children in the corner, snorted loftily. "She's a runaway, if I must say, Father. With some street rat, who's no better than he ought to be-"
"Shut up!" the duke roared, before Bran/Bean ushered them out of the chambers, along with Vedris' second son and his daughter.
~~~~~~~~~~
And it was over.
The four were outside, being cloaked in robes of different colors, the filmy, dusky blue-grey of a stormcloud for Tris, a bright scarlet laced with gold threads for Daja, a warm golden-honey silk for Sandry, and a brilliant emerald brocade for Briar.
"I can't believe it..." Daja murmured, fingering the velvet red of her robe. "How did they know?"
Niko grunted. "Their specialty is seeing into your mind and souls, why do you doubt their ability to choose your profession's colors?" Then seeing the awed and slightly maudlin faces of his students, he visibly softened. "They do this for everyone, they're quiet good at it."
"What was yours?"
The man smoothed his salt-and-pepper mustache and chuckled. "Black and silver."
Silence for a moment. "How did we do?" Briar whispered.
Lark and Rosethorn entered, followed by Crane and Frostpine. "Quite well, in fact," Lark said, smiling proudly at her housemates. "I think you stunned them. They-" she gestured to the handful of bent, decrepit dedicates who tottered after them- "have never seen such young mages with your level of dedication, education, and overall commitment to serving humankind."
They smiled their toothless smiles, eyes bright with intelligence despite their age. "Welcome to the Mastery!" one old woman said, patting each of the new Masters on the forehead with a dry, papery hand.
~~~~~~~~~~~
He couldn't sleep, knowing that she was somewhere in the castle.
"Stop thinking about it!" Bran (it was Bran, after all, not Bean) said. "It's making you get excited, and that makes you worse."
"You're a torture as it is," Vedris mumbled, hoping to offend, but the man only laughed.
"Try Moonstream when she's in a fit. And make sure you cover your eyes and curl into a ball to protect your inner organs." The eldest son sat up, properly dignified in his rage, but Vedris simply waved him back.
"Make yourself useful, bring me those papers on the West Hill's famine." The son stomped over to the draws and began fruitlessly rummaging through the papers.
"Gods," Vedris said scathingly, "And how are you supposed to manage my affairs when I'm gone?"
"I don't know!" was the half-whine that uttered from the grown man's mouth.
He couldn't help but chuckle, but that turned into a cough. And when he opened his eyes, there was a figure standing in the doorway.
"Uncle?" Sandry said. She stood firm, unwaveringly, in the doorway, but she neither ran towards or from the sick man in the bed.
"Sandrilene?" Holding out a wrinkled hand, pale from lack of sunlight, the duke smiled as openly as he could manage. "You're back?"
Walking slowly over, she placed her hand in his. "I'm back, Uncle."
Closing his eyes for a second, he sighed happily. "Good. And a Master?" he added, seeing her witched robe. She nodded, and behind Sandry he saw that plant-boy lingering in the background. "Oh, you. Come on out. I'm not going to bite you, I promise."
So Briar stepped out, and the little child in his arms became visible. "I'm going to hold you to that promise, your Grace," he commented as the duke's eyebrows grew closer together for a second or two.
"Bah, boy," Vedris grumbled. "You're not making it easy for me..."
Sandry laught, slightly tearfully. "Are you all right?" Bran snorted behind her, and she jumped back. "You have to rest!"
"Fine...but one thing...can you find the West Hill's papers? My son-" he glared- "cannot apparently find anything."
"Oh, sure." Walking over to the cabinet, she quickly selected one and opened it, whisking the file into her uncle's shaking hands within a moment.
"You're a good girl." Vedris managed a smile at Briar and Shemonah. "Can I meet your daughter?"
Bran and Moonstream sighed simultaneously. "Vedris," the woman said, deeply regretful. "You should rest. Shemonah can be back later to meet you."
"Oh, all right then." Waving all the people out of the room, Bran closed the doors firmly behind the crowd.
~~~~~~~~~~