Song of the Stars

Chapter IV

"Leianna, cheer up!" Corryn snapped the next day, glancing impatiently at her friend's gloomy, disheartened face. "Everyone gets called up by the instructors at some point. Your are completely blowing it out of proportion!" Leianna continued to frown, black eyes downcast.

"Errgh!" Corryn groaned. "There's no talking to you when you get like this! You are being so- so annoying!"

Leianna sighed and nodded reluctantly. "Maybe you're right. If I'm so upset about this, I should just... work harder. But I'll need some help."

Corryn smiled, relieved. "No problem. Glaive work? Just ask Hakuin- he's the best by far." Her tone, wavering between admiration and resentment, drew a smile from her friend. "Anything else?"

"Actually, yes," the dark-haired girl admitted, her tone sheepish now rather than remorseful. "I need help with staff, spear, mace..." Her voice trailed off, leaving no doubt that there was more.

"Are you serious?" Corryn demanded, stunned. "Those are the easiest weapons in existence!"

"'Easiest weapons in existence,'" Leianna mimicked sarcastically, sounding so much like Corryn herself that the other girl couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe for you, Shen My-parents-taught-me-to-fight-at-the-age-of-four. Some of us need help- a lot of help."

Corryn considered it. "Fine," she said at last, "but we'd better get started. There's a lot of ground to cover, and you have barely got the right stance. Just be glad you're all right at unarmed combat..."

"Shen Starsong?"

Leianna pivoted to face the formidable Shang Dragon, Liam Ironarm. "Yes, sir?" she replied politely, face impassive though she was tingling with apprehension. She could not read his stormy gray eyes, but she had no doubt that some sort of punishment was about to ensue. Oh, what have I done now?

To her utter surprise and confusion, the warrior smiled. "I simply wish to congratulate you. The Wildcat tells me that your glaive technique has improved significantly since your confrontation two weeks ago. And your other instructors have noticed improvement as well."

Leianna stared at him, eyes blank with surprise. "What, I'm sorry?" she stammered.

"You have improved greatly. I wished to tell you that you may take the day off in the city as a reward."

"Thank you," she choked, then bowed hastily. The Dragon nodded and went off to converse with the Shang Falcon.

Leianna smiled to herself. Well, I suppose those sessions with Corryn and Hakuin helped, she thought, mentally thanking her friends. But the credit's not entirely mine, and a day off is a rare privilege. Should I tell him? But the Dragon had already left, in pursuit of some other student. Leianna shrugged and prepared herself for the trip to the city. Maybe I can find a sword at last, she thought with glee.

Anrasciato, Maren was a small bazaar city colonized by Tyran merchants roughly fifty years ago. Nicknamed "orange skies" for the enormous, sheer vermillion banners that flew atop the guildhall and larger stores, the city still retained a large Tyran population. Unlike standard Marenite towns with their unvaried populations, Anrasciato was a veritable melting pot of not only Tyran merchants and Marenite farmers, but Yamani healers, Yinhai scholars, Saren K'miri warriors, Tortallan mages, Scanran sailors...

The city lay across the Fronsul River from the Shang academy, connected by an ancient, wind-worn bridge of cedar. Leianna stepped precariously onto the wooden planks, skipping over holes and wobbling onto loose boards now and then. The wood was wet from an evening's shower and Leianna slipped occasionally, clutching her purse with a trembling hand to prevent it from tumbling down into the icy depths. The fog swirled gently around her, cradling her slim form with ghostly white hands, and the wind whistled eerily over the treetops.

Leianna breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped off of the bridge's last plank. Anrasciato lay before her, gaudy orange banners showing golden through the mist. She grinned and stepped into the city.

She was instantly hit by a bustle of activity- the bazaar town was a whirl of swirling limbs, and everywhere she looked people were moving rapidly, purposefully. The city was small, and by some Marenite standards, disgracefully crowded, noisy, and low-class. Narrow dirt roads were lined with gleaming shop windows and cluttered stalls; merchants' voices carried across the streets as their beaming faces encouraged everyone to buy. The stalls were hung with lavish, shimmering jeweled ropes, whisper-fine silk, and crystalline glassware. The noisy merchant town was brighter than any palace.

Leianna dodged a frantic baker as he sprinted down the road in pursuit of a gaggle of street rats, shouting, "You little ragamuffins, get out of my baguettes!" with a heavy Tyran accent. A blacksmith raced past her, balancing a stack of rusty cauldrons. All around her, merchants, craftsmen, children, and beggars seemed to be shouting at the tops of their lungs.

In the darker corners of the stalls, Leianna was sure, there were thieves lurking by, so she was careful to keep an eye on her purse as she walked further in search of some quiet. As the dirt roads twisted in, the shops became smaller, the stalls worn and dusty, and the noise seemed to fade away as the people moved in the direction of the larger shops. Leianna continued to walk, aware that the atmosphere was now mysterious, almost supernaturally eerie, rather than busy. Finally, she reached the end of the row of shops and there to greet her was... silence.

"H-hello?" Leianna called uncertainly. She was facing a narrow stall of wind-worn wood, the air around which was heavy with the scent of dust and incense. Shining loops of gold and strings of dazzling seer's crystals looked out of place against the weathered walls. The gauzy, midnight-blue drapes that covered the opening were lavishly embroidered with silver stars and scalloped with gold, and the graceful ruffles seemed to flutter in a non-existent breeze. Leianna frowned and hesitantly drew back the curtain halfway.

"Yes," came a whisper from behind the fabric, an unearthly whisper that stirred the delicate veil. "Come in, warrior-in-training."

Disclaimer: All familiar characters, locations, concepts, etc. belong to Tamora Pierce. The plot, as well any of the above that are unrecognizable as mine.