Marian shook her head in the cracked mirror on the cell wall. Her
black hair had gone limp; her eyes no longer held a sparkle. The olive-
green linen shift that was the jail uniform was baggy and loose, making it
impossible to distinguish her curves from the folds of clothing. She was
here on a third time offense. She remembered her mother's warning:
"Just don't get caught again, Marian. Stay out of trouble, please," she'd begged. Marian had seen the hard lines across her face from years of working with the Forbidden Market. "If you want to be like The Lioness, Mari, you have to be strong. Jail is for weaklings," her voice had become low and sad. And, Marian had almost done what her mother wanted. Except that she'd stayed behind with one of the pearls they'd gotten from a rich, foreign buyer, to try and wash some of the dirt off of it; there was no running water in their tiny, cramped home. And, the police had come along.
Marian rubbed her lips. How she would love some red color for them, to cover up their ugly chapped surface. She reached for her magic, trying to soothe her lips. No magic came. The cell was made for that, spelled against its occupant's magic. She sat down on the bed, ready for tears to come. None came.
"Excuse me?" The voice at the door pushed the tears back farther, and Marian turned to see a jail guard at the barred door. "You have a visitor." He stepped back, to let a crisp young lady through. Mari was surprised. She was allowed no visitors, here on a third time offense. Yet, this lady seemed to want to talk business, and that was very odd.
"Hello, Marian Dukes-Ryl. How are you faring?" She asked, with a slight smile. Marian nodded absent mindedly, her mind on the woman's clothing. She was wearing a tight, mint-green linen shift, her curly red hair falling all over it. Her black cloak was clasped with a gold clasp; those were not cheap.
"I'm a well. And yourself?" She asked. It was simply a mechanical answer. After years of dealing with wealthy customers, she knew to respect women dressed as this one was.
"Ah. You probably do not know me. I am Lady Liane, of the royal court. I come to you, Marian, to make a deal." Lady Liane stuck her hand through the space on the bars, resting her arm on the shelf meant for food trays. "I have watched you dealing in the Market. I have seen you fight off enemies much greater than yourself. You see, Marian Dukes-Ryl, I would like to offer you something. I can get you off of the rest of the jail sentence that you will get for being guilty, although you will still loose you magic, if you will come, under my guard, to train for a page." Her hand reached out, as if to shake. Marian tried to make sense of the thoughts that were swirling around in her head.
"Deal."
"Just don't get caught again, Marian. Stay out of trouble, please," she'd begged. Marian had seen the hard lines across her face from years of working with the Forbidden Market. "If you want to be like The Lioness, Mari, you have to be strong. Jail is for weaklings," her voice had become low and sad. And, Marian had almost done what her mother wanted. Except that she'd stayed behind with one of the pearls they'd gotten from a rich, foreign buyer, to try and wash some of the dirt off of it; there was no running water in their tiny, cramped home. And, the police had come along.
Marian rubbed her lips. How she would love some red color for them, to cover up their ugly chapped surface. She reached for her magic, trying to soothe her lips. No magic came. The cell was made for that, spelled against its occupant's magic. She sat down on the bed, ready for tears to come. None came.
"Excuse me?" The voice at the door pushed the tears back farther, and Marian turned to see a jail guard at the barred door. "You have a visitor." He stepped back, to let a crisp young lady through. Mari was surprised. She was allowed no visitors, here on a third time offense. Yet, this lady seemed to want to talk business, and that was very odd.
"Hello, Marian Dukes-Ryl. How are you faring?" She asked, with a slight smile. Marian nodded absent mindedly, her mind on the woman's clothing. She was wearing a tight, mint-green linen shift, her curly red hair falling all over it. Her black cloak was clasped with a gold clasp; those were not cheap.
"I'm a well. And yourself?" She asked. It was simply a mechanical answer. After years of dealing with wealthy customers, she knew to respect women dressed as this one was.
"Ah. You probably do not know me. I am Lady Liane, of the royal court. I come to you, Marian, to make a deal." Lady Liane stuck her hand through the space on the bars, resting her arm on the shelf meant for food trays. "I have watched you dealing in the Market. I have seen you fight off enemies much greater than yourself. You see, Marian Dukes-Ryl, I would like to offer you something. I can get you off of the rest of the jail sentence that you will get for being guilty, although you will still loose you magic, if you will come, under my guard, to train for a page." Her hand reached out, as if to shake. Marian tried to make sense of the thoughts that were swirling around in her head.
"Deal."
