Author's Notes: This isn't completely betaed, so expect a few changes in the future - but the story should remain largely the same. Please review!

And a note on my vision of Lark: visually, think Christina Ricci (Prozac Nation), except with features a bit sharper, and a Jodie Foster accent. Roughly.

Chapter Two

Trips to the city were frequent for my peers and me. The city offered infinite opportunities for learning, shopping, meeting people, recreation. It was nothing unusual for me to go there, such that my parents didn't always ask me what activities I had planned. They knew that I associated with worthy people, and that I could take care of myself. The week before, "I'm going to the city with Alcynthe" had been enough, though I did feel guilty about our Red Lantern excursion.

But now I felt obligated to learn the strange wildmage's story, and so at the next opportunity I went down to the Lower City again, this time alone. Alcynthe had been reluctant to come, and at any rate I felt an urge to confront the tavern girl alone: it seemed appropriate that her story should be between just the two of us. But that still didn't dispel my trepidation at the thought of talking face-to-face with a living, breathing prostitute. Such a woman was so… alien, so repulsive. How could I look her in the eye and… well, talk to her like I would to a normal person?

And yet curiosity would not be slaked. Walking through the Lower City's twisting roads, I called to the People in range, showing them an image of the girl I was looking for. They would know her apart from other humans, I told them; she felt a bit like one of the People.

A pair of sparrows zipped across the street to land on my shoulders. We've seen a woman like that, they told me. All the wing-folk in the city know her; she's our friend. We'll take you to her.

Thank you, wing-brothers. I smiled, turning to stroke the one on my right shoulder with a finger.

They jumped back into the air and fluttered a few buildings down to perch on a hitching post, and waited for me to catch up. It was a mild day for the time of year; the chill nipped at my fingers, but the air was still and gentle and the sun shone. I hoped my quarry was outside, preferably alone, instead of in the Red Lantern or a similar institution. I was hesitant to go into such a tavern alone.

The sparrows led me to the mouth of a space between two large buildings. Here she is, said the one who'd landed on my left shoulder. They flew inside.

I peered around the edge. The niche ran about ten yards deep; inside was the tavern wildmage I was looking for, in a dark blue cloak. She was leaning against the wall, serving as a perch for various songbirds. They stood all along her outstretched arms and shoulders as well as at her feet, several eating what looked like bread crumbs out of her palm; she laughed merrily as some of them pecked at her thick, dark hair.

At my entrance, about five of them left her to fly over to me, landing largely on my shoulders (and one on my head). I hoped fervently they would stay tidy; not that I could fault them, but I'd rather save my clothes. My mother had never seemed to mind that, for some reason.

The tavern girl turned at this movement, and her eyes fell on me. She looked at me curiously, waiting for an explanation. "Hello," she said expectantly.

"Excuse me," I said shyly, walking towards her. I removed the sparrow on my head to let her perch instead on my finger. And then suddenly I was face to face with the mysterious girl I had been wondering about for the past week. Today, even with no makeup, it was clear she was beautiful. Her face, heart-shaped and set between broad cheekbones, was clear and finely shaped - as though by an artist who took care to make the combined effect in perfect balance. Her skin was milky, her eyes a deep forest green I'd never witnessed in a human face, flecked with gold, and framed by a dark spray of lashes. Her hair, unadorned today, piled over her shoulders in graceful waves. Even when not parading herself as a harlot, that same dirty mien hung about her. It was that sly self-confidence in her eyes, the look of one who smugly harbored a secret; it was the leisurely way she stood resting her weight in one hip. And here I was, and it was upon me to explain myself to her.

As soon as I started talking, I realized I had no idea what to say.

"I'm a wildmage, you see. A mage, that is. Actually, both. - Do you know what that is? A wildmage, I mean. Do you know what -"

I stopped. She was grinning good-naturedly, clearly amused at my awkwardness. She raised delicate eyebrows. "Beg pardon?"

"Er -" I looked at the ground for a moment, taking a breath to regain my center, then smiled politely. "My name's Shari." Let's try this again.

She turned her gaze away from me briefly to gaze across the street. "I remember you."

I wondered once again - intensely - if she was a Seer in addition to all her other talents.

"Do I know you?" I asked uncertainly.

She laughed, not derisively, but as at a good joke. "Now I don't find that likely, do you?"

I supposed not.

She turned to look at me again. "That day at the Lantern. I saw you."

"Right." So she did remember. But why had she noticed me in the first place? Few wildmages could identify others, and she was no more powerful than those I knew who could not.

Shifting away from the wall, she brushed the crumbs from her palms and extended her right hand. "'Round here they call me Lark." She gave me a lopsided grin. After a moment's hesitation I shook her hand, heart thudding; her palm was soft and smooth. "'Cause of my friends, and for my voice." She spoke in quick, whippy syllables.

I made myself smile again, in courteous appreciation of the cited talent. "Well named. You see, Lark, I'm studying magecraft at the University." I indicated the direction of the palace. "I study with my Gift in school, but I have another kind of magic - wild magic. Do you know what that is?"

"'Course I do," she replied, and smiled at the bright-eyed junco on her shoulder. "Magic with animals. You can speak to them, and understand what they say."

Her knowledge was puzzling. Fifteen or twenty years ago, I knew, few Masters could have claimed as much. "More than that, actually, with me," I continued. "I can put my will on them, if I want - but I don't often - and I can look in their minds, and also heal them. I also have magic with immortal creatures - I can tell when they're around, and talk to them too."

Lark whistled. "Well then -" her eyes were still playful, but shrewd - "what might such a well-bred, fine young lady want with the likes of me?"

The demand of her question set me slightly more off balance, but I pressed on. "Another thing is I can see others with wild magic. You have it."

She looked at me sharply. "Do I, now?"

It was my turn to smile, now confident. This was my field of expterise. "Yes. Believe me, you do."

She shrugged. "Well, I always had a way with the winged fellows, I know, and they took a liking to me. Didn't know it was magic, though. But - I s'pose knowing it doesn't change much, does it?" She lifted a hand; a chickadee fluttered from her elbow to perch on her delicate fingers.

"I suppose not," I admitted. She didn't have enough magic to hone with training. "But - you've always been connected with birds, then?"

"Long as I recall." She smiled affectionately at the birds around - and on - her.

"Well then -" I had no idea how to phrase the question gracefully - "why is it you… work at the tavern?" My face was hot. "You could work with birds, in falconry, or breeding, or training, or studying. Or - why not work as an actual singer? Like a bard? You're as good as the ones I've heard at Court."

Lark grinned crookedly. "Oh, I am a bard. I just sing for a reason!" She laughed uproariously, heightening my discomfort. Part of me asked once again why I had approached a tavern girl; I squelched it.

She tossed her dark, rich tresses over her shoulder, laughter settling. "I'll tell you why," she said with a mysterious smile. "It'll take some telling, there."

She turned and strode toward the end of the alley, fallen leaves and bits of rubbish scattering at her footsteps. Near the splintery wooden door that led to one of the buildings, several old crates lay in a pile. Lark overturned one for use as a stool and seated herself; I followed suit. We must have seemed strange to an observer, sitting together - the harlot and the well-bred mage student. Such people simply did not go together visually. I couldn't peel the image of her initial visage from my mind's eye - the loud, revealing dress, so forbidden, so intruding on my familiar, comfortable world. Today I had dressed as usual - cream-colored blouse, leather bodice that laced up to the breastbone, forest green skirt - with my long black hair modestly braided. All familiar, but I felt more than a little self-conscious, given my company.

"I wasn't born down here," Lark was telling me. She was gazing straight ahead of her again, though there was nothing to rest the eye on save the alley's run-down walls on either side of us and across the street, the grimy façade of a third-rate smithy. She both looked and sounded very far away, as though the words came to her from afar. "My family were - are - scholars, and not far from the Court folks. Better off that a good deal of nobles, even. They've been so for ages. Ten years at the University, then live in books and scrolls and scholar talk the rest of their lives. When I was growing up, my father scarcely left his study but when he had to.

"Or at least, the menfolk are scholars. Not that it'd please me, myself, but at least they use their heads. The women sit about all day and embroider. Can't go out, for fear of ruining their skin or dirtying their hands." Lark's delicate features contracted with scorn. "And they keep to themselves, for worldly talk isn't for ladies' pretty heads. Too, they aren't to keep other fellows' company, lest they be - drawn astray." She snorted. "That's what I'd've been fated for.

"Like I said, I was always close to the wing-folk. And since there wasn't much worthwhile about home, I always passed the time out on the lands, with no one to get after me over my clothes or manners, just my friends and me." She smiled distantly. "And that was just fine when I was a wee girl - not that my parents liked it - they always scolded me for running about so. But I was a mere child. They had more important matters to tend to.

"But as I turned woman, that changed." The smile was gone; her eyes tightened. "Now they were forever telling me to sit still, stand straight, walk slowly, keep my eyes down. After all -" she mimicked a lady's delicate voice - " 'who'd ask the hand of such a wild, messy girl?' That's what it was all about - they wanted the best marriage for me, or at least, the highest one, and one to bring in gold. So of a sudden, I had to learn to be a lady. Meaning I was to sit inside all day. And my wing-friends weren't to come within ten paces, for fear of soiling my dress.

"Now at the same time, there were a handful of bards about us. Not just the ones to pass the great folks' time of an idle evening, but real ones - the finest there were. They took a liking to me as well, 'specially with my voice. The master among them, old Talmon, wanted me to be a bard, to put in years of study and hours of practice each day, and spend my life among the tune-spinners. Now I always thought singing merry, and I'd be pleased to do it for myself, or to pass the time, but I'd little fancy to sit myself on a platform and sing to a crowd. Too, I wasn't set on throwing myself into study day and night, like all those fine-fingered bards did. Talmon couldn't seem to grasp that. He was forever after me to give up everything else and work with the masters. He had given me lessons for a while, and was more than ready to double the weight of them. He kept saying what a fortune I'd be to the bards' work. And I was good, I'll admit - but I couldn't see myself chanting strains all my life.

"When I was fifteen, my father'd already found a match for me - as he saw it." Lark sneered. "A fat old lump - he could barely keep his seat on a horse - and the face of an ogre, but hanging off his skull like drapes of a curtain. But a noble, and well off, and that was all that mattered - I'd be a lady, and my family's have a share in the old man's gold. And don't doubt me that he hardly favored doing anything but laying about all day with servants running to his call. The fool had taken a fancy to me, and my father slapped down his seal within the week. Did my parents trouble their ears to hear my thoughts on the way I'd spend the rest of my life? Hardly. It's for your own good, that's what they told me, and mother and father knew best, and a youngling like me had best listen to her elders.

"So." Deep green eyes turned back to me. "What's a lass to do? Swamped over by fools, each who's certain they know what's best for her future, none caring to ask the girl in question what she might fancy." Lark propped her chin in one hand, gazing away thoughtfully again. "It didn't suit me - none of it. What with everyone shoving their wishes onto me, I'd scarcely space to breathe, and not a one of them gave a whit what I thought. So I decided - Hag take 'em all." A wry smile lifted on side of her mouth.

"You - you ran away?" I ventured.

She snapped her fingers cheerfully. "That's a fact. Took some money - my own, and not a copper out of their purses - and some clothes, and headed down here. I was pretty well set for the trade -" she grinned slyly - "and needed little besides." She turned towards me again, sweeping her hair away from her face. "So here I am -" she gestured widely to the city around us - "you may think it odd I'd choose the life, but I'll tell you - it's a sweet choice from my last one. I left behind everything I could - made sure to forget all I'd been taught, even the speech." She grinned. "Around here, you pick up the street tongue quick enough. And here there's no one to tell me how to dress or walk or talk, and surely not how to go about my life. I answer to no one. I go where I please. I pass the time with those I want to - not least of all -" she lifted a finch on her finger to eye level - "these lovely fellows."

I digested this for a moment; the only sounds were the chirping of the birds around us and city noises slipping down the alley.

"But - why don't you work with birds, then?" I wanted to know. "If you love them, you should - and they'd be more than happy about it, too. Too many of the People are mistreated by humans." My mother was forever campaigning to teach animal handlers and owners some sense concerning their charges. "It would probably pay better, as well; I'm sure you could work your way up to a high position in a school or guild."

Lark sighed; several birds found alternate perches as she crossed her arms thoughtfully. "Doubtless you're right, about the way folks treat the animals, and it's a cursed shame. But the fact of the matter is, I've my own code - and it's to work for none but myself. Now, if I'm in a school or guild, like you said, I've put a chain around my neck. Either, if I take money or favors from someone, I'm in debt, and fettered to them." She spoke with a gravity I hadn't seen before. "I'm my own woman, and that's that."

This was a lot to take in.

Lark's eyes crinkled at my obvious astonishment, then were serious once more. "Just goes to show, sweetling - a girl's never trapped into a future others decide, or stuck to what they tell her to do with herself. Never, you hear? You can always make choices for yourself."

I couldn't quite see this perspective. How many young women would see fit to run away from their families to live as prostitutes? Was that the freedom Lark was talking about?

I tried to understand, tried to think of something to say in response. I failed at both.

Lark smiled kindly. "Oh, that's all right, lass. Few know what to make of girls like me - though many think they do." She snorted.

I looked inquisitively at her, waiting for elaboration.

"Remember that hullabaloo in the Goddess's temple, last year?" she asked.

"Um…" I frowned. "I think the Daughters were arguing over something - something about the court's policies. I didn't hear that much about it."

"Wasn't much to be heard. They kept it quiet." Her eyes danced. "I'll tell you, though - word gets around, you see. It was about a tavern lass, one like myself - I'd seen her about, in fact. Anyway, she had a problem with one of the pimps." Lark's voice was very dry. "He gave her a lot more than she'd bargained for, you could say. And he wasn't about to pay for the pleasure, either. So the girl went to the court of the Goddess - you know - they're the place to protect women in such matters. But the court wouldn't help her - or at least, some of the Daughters were perfectly willing to, and some of them turned her away - said they wouldn't serve such a low type, that she didn't deserve the help."

I stared.

"It's true," she told me wickedly. "Folks may think the priestesses know all there is to be known, that they're just bottomless sacks of justice and wisdom - but along comes a short-skirt, and they're thrown into mayhem." She sighed with exaggerated patience. "So many like that, a sad thing - so many claim they're fit to run others' lives, when they can't even balance their own."

The Daughters' controversy was understandable. I was feeling the same complex myself.

Suddenly I had a thought that made my hair stand on end. "Lark - have you ever been - have you ever had - has a man ever -" Yet again words failed me.

She laid a comforting hand on my arm. "Don't you fret, my dear. Truth is, it's a lot scarcer among tavern girls than with the - respectable ones. It's our choice, mind, to take any one of them. Too, the rougher ones give fair warning, and ample pay. They know if we're not happy, they can expect little service to come."

I winced at the images this conjured. It hurt to think of the young woman in front of me being toyed with by some sadistic stranger. I had an urge - and then, I realized, an opportunity - to do something about it.

I turned to Lark eagerly. "Would you like me to lay down a protective spell? It would be a simple matter - quick work, and I'm good at them - no man would ever be able to hurt you, believe me." My blood livened up at the prospect of using my work to help a girl in need.

"No." She shook her head, smiling. "That's too sweet of you, and it sounds grand, but no, thanks all the same."

I was once more dumbstruck.

"It's like I said, you see," Lark explained. "If I take help from someone, I owe them back -"

"You wouldn't owe me anything!" I protested, eager for the chance to help her, to make a difference.

"Mayhap not, but I'd've taken a favor, all the same. I can't go about like that. If I do it once, I might do it again, and again. It's a danger. I'm sorry," she added, seeing my disappointment. "It's good of you, truly."

It was as though I had reached to touch her and she had thrust my hand away. The way she was looking at me now was as though from far, far away, and I felt an almost tangible barrier rise between us. We were from two different worlds, and would not, under everyday circumstances, cross paths again. There was nothing we might share to connect us. We had nothing in common… save the story she had just told me.

I knew at that moment, with utmost certainty, that our conversation was over. There was nothing more to say.

"Well," I said, conjuring a smile. "It was a pleasure talking to you, Lark." Frank, heartfelt exchanges had given way to etiquette.

She smiled in return. "Likewise, m'dear."

I stood and strode towards the mouth of the alley, into the city, where I could retrace my steps and find my way back home.

I had nearly set foot on the street when her brook-clear voice reached me again in salutation. "Fair fortune, Shari."

I turned back to look at her, a lovely, comfortable blue-cloaked figure seated on the crate. But I didn't say anything, and after a moment's pause left her behind to make my way through the winding Lower City roads.

Fair fortune, Lark had told me. But what did that mean? What was "fair fortune" to her? She had chosen the life of a harlot; she thought it preferable, appropriate, commended such a lot in favor of so many women's inherent futures. It was unsettling to think what she wished me.

It was a common greeting and benediction, exchanged widely throughout the Eastern Lands - but I couldn't help but feel her parting words had been more of a curse.

~~~~~