Pirelle brushed back her midnight black hair and gazed at herself in the mirror, careful to be on the alert for her housemates. During her stay at Discipline, she had become far less obsessed with clothing and fashion, and her vanity had gone away, for the most part. If they saw her now, they would only tease her for lapsing back into old habits. They wouldn't understand.

She was about to meet Lady Sandrilene fa Toren. The Lady Sandrilene fa Toren. One didn't appear in front of the Lady Sandrilene unless one was immaculate. Lady Sandrilene was also a stitch witch, which meant she was particularly attuned to the nuances of fashion. It would be hard to impress Lady fa Toren.

Pirelle smoothed her dress and gazed at herself critically in the mirror. The gown was in the latest style, made of expensive, recycled cloths from previous gowns. The colors were tasteful and suited her coloring perfectly. The seamstress had also traced the basic protection spells on it, as well as a few for the preservation of the materials. She had paid extra for these, so the gown would last longer.

She tilted her head, and felt her dark tresses sway. She had spent an hour curling them just right. One could never be too prepared for a meeting with she who many presumed would be heiress to Emelan.

Finally, she was ready. She swept out of the room with a graceful, floating movement that had been pounded into her from birth and came face to face with her awed housemates. They had never seen herself so decked out, in full noble regalia. She swept them a full curtsy, with skirts spread wide and curls artfully dangling in front of her face, then rose up again and cocked an eyebrow.

"Well?" she demanded. "What do you think?"

"Wow ..."

Good enough. It was time to meet the Lady herself.

Lady Sandrilene was politely chattering with Lord Linden, covering the typical conversational topics that nobles discussed, when a maid approached her. "Lady Pirelle ei Polaris seeks a private audience with Your Ladyship."

Sandry ran through her mental list of acquaintances, and couldn't seem to come up with a single "ei Polaris" she was on familiar terms with. The Pirelle was a fourth or fifth daughter, right?

"I can wait," Linden said politely. "I shall wait over by the apple trees."

Sandry accepted his suggestion gratefully and turned as the maid led her to meet this elusive Pirelle.

When they arrived, Sandry immediately recognized her as the dark-haired girl from Discipline. She bit back a sigh of irritation. The second thing she noticed was that the girl wore a fashion that really was too mature for her. The girl couldn't have been much older than what, ten? Twelve? She certainly hadn't developed enough for those ruffles to be of any use. Or those ribbons.

Pirelle, on her part, noticed the disapproval immediately. Nevertheless, she soldiered on, and swept a deep curtsy.

Sandry barely kept from the voicing the criticism that came to mind (What a pretentious curtsy!) and nodded curtly in return.

Pirelle rallied together her courage. "Master Goldeye informed me that I would have the honor of having you as my teacher."

And then there was a long silence, as each waited for the other to speak.

"Is that all?" Sandry finally asked.

"I thought it would be courteous to introduce myself," Pirelle snapped.

"Introductions have been made," Sandry said. Then, seeing the furious look on Pirelle's face, she relented. "I am entertaining right now," she stated. "Further introductions can be made after I have completely moved back into Discipline." Having said all she needed to say, she summoned a maid. "Show Lady Pirelle back to Discipline," she said summarily.

Pirelle seethed in indignation, but she didn't have anything to say and could only follow out of the room.

This sucks.

Meanwhile, Briar was in a meeting with Lord Fitch, who he had been told was an important contributor and donated much money to Winding Circle so he was not to be offended at all. But it was difficult to hold back insults as Lord Fitch went on.

"I'm sorry that my student attacked your son," Briar repeated, "but all the witnesses state he was provoked."

"Where are your witnesses?" Lord Fitch demanded. "Where is your evidence? I want that boy punished for what he did!"

Briar held back a retort. It was going to be a long day ...

Tris, of course, was in the library. As usual. She hadn't had access to this many books since she'd left Winding Circle. Occasionally, one of the Dedicates would stop by to check on her, make sure she wasn't suffering too much from malnutrition. But none attempted to separate her from her precious books.

Daja was in the forge, patiently making her nails, when the redhead from Discipline showed up and declared, quite loudly, "My name is Kitiana Tabura Guilder. I am to be your charge. I seem to have some affinity for Fire."

Daja allowed some silence to pass before commenting. "Isn't firestarting the sort of gift you go to Lightsbridge for?"

"Not my kind," Kitiana said grimly.

"And isn't Tabura a Trader name?"

"My great-grandmother was declared trangshi, and she married a lugsha, and named her child a Trader name. My blood is very diluted now. I know a few words in Trader-talk, but not many. I don't meet many Traders," she admitted, "so I don't know much about whether the trangshi-status passes on."

"You're not technically a Trader," Daja said. "So you can't be trangshi."

"Well, that's good to know," Kitiana said dryly. "You can call me Kitty, by the way."

"And you can call me Pahan Kisubo," Daja said equally dryly. This girl really needed to learn some manners. But she was teach-able.

To be continued ...