Yeah, yeah, finally up. This should've been longer, but my free time got eaten away by Anita Blake books, my new obsession. So I just summed them up. They would've been boring even if I did go for the long version.

The last cloud blew away, allowing a ray of sunlight to strike the sleeping noble's eyes. She quickly brought her arms up to shield them while rolling away into a sitting position. She sat there, trying to rub sunspots out of her eyes.

Somewhere behind her, Briar mumbled something as he shifted to take her old spot. He yelped as he received the same not-so-figurative rude awakening.

Tris and Daja bolted upright, looking for the cause of the noise. When Daja finally realized what happened, she scowled. "Are you trying to wake the dead, Briar?"

Sandry stretched. "Remind me to draw the drapes before bed tonight."

"Lovely," Tris grumbled. "You two are woken blinded, we're deafened. Did anyone have a normal transition between sleep and consciousness?"

"I did," Lark chirped as she came out of her room. "Are you up for a trip to Summersea? We're going to visit the Duke."

They nodded assent and scrambled to their rooms to change.

~*~

"So why are we going to the Citadel?" Tris smoothed out her skirts so she could sit comfortably.

Daja shrugged, laying her head on the wall. She moved it with a wince as the side of the wagon rattled against her temple.

"Rosethorn said something about being polite and not seeing his Grace in a while." Briar tried to balance a knife on a fingertip, then gave up when a stone in the road nearly caused him to lose a toe.

"Yazmin did want to meet you all."

"Why?" Daja yawned, cracking a knuckle on the wall. "And more importantly, why is this thing so blasted small?"

"She's heard stories and wanted to meet you all in person."

"What's with this? Only six bleatin' years since the quake—we're not dead or even old yet—and stuff 'bout us is common knowledge."

"Nothing we can do now," Tris countered. "I'd rather have false stories than a premature death."

"You know," Briar said thoughtfully. "Your parents are probably kicking themselves about sending you away. You're strong, and you could've made them rich."

A rare smile crept onto the redhead's face. "Serves them right."

~*~

"Yazmin Hebet, meet Trisana Chandler, Daja Kisubo, and Briar Moss." Yazmin held out a graceful hand for them to shake.

"Tris, please. I hate being called Trisana" She took the hand first.

Daja was next. She had an odd look on her face. "Mistress Yazmin, did you purchase some rolls of Yanjing silk from a Trader ship a few years back?"

Yazmin nodded. "I don't usually help buy materials for the costumes, but I do remember buying some from a family of Traders once. You were there?"

Daja nodded. "I wasn't actually present, because I was so young, but my mother made a big deal out of it because you're so well-known."

"Small world."

Briar offered a vine-covered hand. His power, considerably more disciplined now, kept the tattoos in check. They weren't as noticeable, and he could keep them still if he wanted to, so people wouldn't gawk.

Yazmin's grin was a little crooked. "Well, Briar Moss, you are something. How'd you come back home without a trail of young women following you?"

He returned the grin. "After so long, I've learned to lose them in crowds. Self defense, really."

She chuckled. "I'll make sure you never meet my youngest niece. You'd break her heart, wouldn't you?"

Briar raised his eyebrows. "Who, me?" He was all perfect innocence. He yelped suddenly as Sandry pulled his ear.

"Yazmin, could you please avoid inflating his ego? He doesn't need it."

The dancer's mouth twitched with amusement. "He's young. Humoring him is so easy. He thinks all teenage girls are after him."

Briar pried himself out of his friend's grip. "Only you three girls could resist my charms."

"Correction," Sandry said, leading the others down the hall. "Not only we girls can resist your charms. Only girls can resist." She watched calmly as Briar's eyes widened at the implication, and left him and his outraged squawks in the entranceway.

~*~

The sun had disappeared over the horizon for almost an hour. Twilight had come and gone. The wagon was rolling over a path beaten into a wooded area by too many horses. Niko was driving it, left to the task when the dedicates had been called away early for temple business. The kids were riding back the wagon yet again.

Daja yawned. "How many hours of sleep did we get last night? Three? Four?"

Tris's eyes were fluttering shut behind her spectacles. "Five, I think. It took us a while to calm down." It ended as a mumble.

"I was a thief. Now look at me. Barely sundown and I'm almost out," Briar was fighting to sound coherent. "Duchess, I take it back. This is why you were falling asleep so early yesterday, isn't it? How long's it been going on?"

Sandry was sliding into an undignified heap on the floor, only half-conscious. "A few nights, maybe three, plus yesterday."

"Three?" Briar was considerably clearer, and they heard him sit up. "Tris, when did we cross Emelan's border?"

Storm-gray eyes snapped open. "They started when we crossed?"

Daja sounded bored. "So? It just supports Niko's theory, doesn't it?"

The wagon hit a root sticking out of the path. The four were jostled. Four cries of pain were heard as they all fell awkwardly.

Sandry crawled over and lifted the flap. "Niko?"

Niko slowed the horse and craned his head back to see the kids nursing small bruises. "I apologize for that."

"No, not an apology, just…next time, can we just ride on horses?"

"Of course. I suppose it's habit to make you four do this."

Sandry's peripheral vision caught on something pale in the darkness. The white blur cut through the air, hitting a tree, not six inches from one of the horses. It clattered as it fell into the dirt. The horse screamed and reared.

"What's going on?" Briar, Daja, and Tris tried to peer around Sandry's shoulder.

Niko took a few moments to calm the terrified mare, then dismounted. Carefully, he picked up the offending object.

"It's a tambourine." His voice held amazement.

Distantly, they heard footsteps racing towards them.

"Wait!"

They waited, tense and ready for an attack. The figure was finally clearly visible through the darkness.

Her skin was a shadowed shade of Briar and Lark's golden-brown. Dark eyes sat under fine brows. Curling jet-black locks spilled past her shoulders, contrasting with a cream off-shoulder blouse. The colorful flared skirt hid her shoes. Even in the darkness a glitter of gold could be seen at her wrists.

She caught them, panting slightly. Up-close they saw that she was a few years older than the four, around her late teens.

"Forgive me, I mean no harm. Please believe me." Her voice was faintly accented. "May I ask for assistance to Winding Circle Temple? I am in a travelling group of dancers. I was separated from the caravan, and I can't find my way."

Niko relaxed. "She's telling the truth," he whispered to the others. They'd climbed out, readying themselves for battle if necessary. The tension dissipated with Niko's words.

He looked back to the mysterious stranger. "We're headed for the temple. You may come with us, if you like. I am Niklaren Goldeye. This is Daja Kisubo, Briar Moss, Trisana Chandler, and Sandrilene fa Toren."

Her dark eyes widened. "The four mages," she whispered. "And Niklaren Goldeye." She swept a curtsey. "I am honored to be in the presence of such prominent people. My name is Esaeldera Jiranelle."

They returned the greetings, still shaken by her choice of attention-grabbers.

~*~

Esaeldera's mother was yet another friend from Lark's past. She'd decided to visit her old companion, and had been almost panicked about losing her daughter. The stately woman was relieved to find her safe, and thanked all the luck-gods she could name.

Niko was at a meeting with Moonstream. Esaeldera and her mother approached the rest.

"Esaeldera is skilled at palmistry. As thanks for earlier, would you like a reading?"

"I would like to be friends." Esaeldera's voice was soft.

Sandry smiled. "We'd love to have a reading." She stopped the others before they said anything. It's an insult to their skill if you don't, she told them in their heads. They got up.

Esaeldera kneeled on the floor. Briar offered a scarred hand. She picked it up, ignoring the scars. They couldn't see the magic. It was more like their own power. It was there until you tried to look at it. There's a faint scent, Daja told them. It smells like mimander magic.

Gently the Esaeldera ran a finger over one of the creases.

The girl gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She dropped Briar's hand like a hot coal, shock registering in her eyes.

No replies to reviewers this time, people. Too tired. And I don't know how long it'll be 'til my next update, cause I haven't planned the next few parts as well as everything up to now, so it'll take a while to think up. The annoying part is I have a few parts for the distant future, but I don't feel like writing these parts in particular. Maybe if I get a few ideas, some sort of inspiration.

As usual, review, or I might get stuck! Yes, that is a threat.