Rain

Chapter 2

It was early morning the next day when Niva did what could cost her very reputation. Just before dawn, she snuck into the boys' dormitory, a taboo so sacred it was considered equivalent with suicide to break, especially at her age. There were always exceptions if you had a sibling in the dormitory, or were old enough to want to be there overnight and could care less about the consequences, neither of which she wanted to contemplate. In her hands she carried a small glass vial with perfumed liquid, and a small note with her untidy scrawl. Placing both on Isas's desk, she slipped back out just as the first rays of the sun were ascended over the horizon.

Isas studied to vial and read the note, which smelled slightly of rose oil and jasmine. It read:

"I give you till sunset to find out what's in it. Bet you can't."

There was no name, but he didn't need one. The saucy note and the messy writing spoke for itself.

Niva entered her dormitory that night only to find a small note listing the ingredients in her concoction. Attached was a small vial filled with another liquid. Smiling to herself, Niva got down to work.

The years passed with similar bouts of competition between the two, though Niva was not without her own allies and friends. She had made several friends, one in particular a devious girl named Aina who was studying to become a healer.

At sixteen, Niva had gone from pretty to attractive, her waist-length chestnut hair framing creamy skin and large brown eyes. It wasn't a change she admired or noticed, devoted as she was to her studies and completing her novitiate.

Unlike Isas. He had grown as well, from a pompous thirteen years old into an austere and arrogant sixteen year old. More at home with his looks than when he had been as an adolescent, the long arms and legs that seemed to dangle every which way were his trademark appearance. Armed with scruffy black hair and sharp brown eyes, he sent many novices scuttling with a mere glance. And if the glance didn't work, his razor sharp tongue was always a conqueror.

But Niva still loathed him, if loathed was the word to describe the feeling. He was her classmate, and she could ignore him if he ignored her, which was rarely. Few days went by that he didn't make a comment, something to rub her feathers the wrong way. Her reply was always tart and to the point- she didn't dance around a subject when it came to him.

Even so, Niva could not deny the obvious- he was a powerful mage-in-training, with the power and the skills to go far.

And the money, she thought bitterly as she entered class and sat down, her long braid thumping against her back. Don't forget that, or he'll remind you sooner or later of his extensive wealth and property at home. A count's son.

The boys in the class who were Isas's friends (or slaves, depending on how you viewed it) were snorting and choking on stifled laughter as she sat down. Warily she checked her seat and desk, finding nothing. Isas had stooped to putting herbs in her desk that would make her itchy for weeks while she had often given him the pleasure of staying moodily in the privy for hours because of powders she slipped into his drink. But she spotted nothing- the boys were probably being silly, she decided, and shot a glare at one gullible looking one. He froze and looked away, a warning to the others.

The teacher continued the lesson, and it passed normally. But as Niva was walking out, she noticed that none of the boys, not even Isas, were laughing. They were all watching her silently, anticipating something she could not guess.

Aina stuck her tongue out at them as both girls walked out into the courtyard for break, the boys following close behind. Suddenly, Aina froze.

"Oh, Niva," she whispered, staring at her friend. Her normally lovely features were revolted.

"What is it?" Niva asked, looking around. "What's wrong-"

"Your hair," Aina murmured, horrorstruck, her dark brown eyes wide. "Oh, no-"

Niva felt the top of her head. It was perfectly normal, slightly warm from the early summer sun. Feeling down, she expected to feel her thick, waist length braid. Instead, the braid stopped at the nape of her neck; it had been cut off.

The normally bustling courtyard went deadly silent as Niva slowly turned around. Clustered together, the boys watched her expectantly with guilty expressions on their faces. Some were snorting nervously, as though they weren't sure if the situation called for laughter. Anyone with plant magic could feel the plants rousing beneath their feet, feeling their friend's anger and wanting to comfort her. But Niva was beyond comforting- her eyes met Isas's with cold, deadly purpose.

She strode toward them so quickly that they scattered like leaves, leaving Isas in the middle looking rather put off and holding the rest of her braid. "Hello," he drawled, much like his normal self.

Niva could hardly see in front of her, livid with rage. She sent a prayer to the god of revenge, asking for weather magic so she could strike Isas dead where he stood, leaning nonchalantly against a tree, unflappable as ever.

"I didn't do it," he said. "I didn't cut your hair." The truth in his words was unmistakable, but Niva knew that the line that worked so often with her teachers was wasted on her- she knew his game and played it accordingly.

"I know you didn't!" Niva screeched, grabbing the braid from his hand and throwing it to the ground. "You're too high 'n mighty to cut my hair. You got one of them to do it, no doubt." She pointed her chin at the boys who were watching her with wide eyes; they shrank back at her rage.

"I was dared," he said casually, as though remarking on the weather. "I could not resist the temptation."

Dared. A stupid dare had brought him to cut of her hair. Niva stared at him, breathing hard. Suddenly, she brought her hand back and slapped him, so hard that the entire courtyard seemed to echo the sound.

No one moved, though someone hissed in sympathy and was silenced by his neighbor. Isas stared at her. A red mark was appearing on his cheek.

"Apologize," he growled. His brown eyes were sparking with anger.

"Over my dead body," Niva taunted, and thrust him harder. He stumbled back, eyes filling with anger.

"You'll regret that," he said furiously, though he didn't move toward her. The code that said to never hit a female was engraved in every noble male's brain from birth.

"No more than I'd regret killing you," Niva hissed. "You wouldn't dare touch me, and you know it." Aina was also yelling something, but she didn't hear the words. "Coward," Niva spat in his face. "Spineless coward. You can't do anything for yourself, you have to get one of your jumped-up friends to do it all for you-" Niva pushed him again, hard enough to throw him to the ground.

He scrambled up, face livid, but Niva was on him already, tearing at his hair with all her stocky strength. He yelled, his arm flailing and slapping her in the face. Her nose started to bleed almost immediately, though she was certain it had not broken. Isas's face was in worse condition, his nose dripping blood. All codes of honor forgotten, Isas shoved her away, splitting her lip in the process so that she could taste the coppery tang of blood in her mouth. When they both went to hit each other again, they were separated, with much difficulty, by two novices. Niva struggled in Aina's grasp, yelling every foul name imaginable at Isas, who returned the favor with zeal. They were still at it, wriggling to lay hurt on the other, when the First Dedicate Airhawk entered expression dripping deadly venom.

"What is the meaning of this?" he roared. The novices fell silent.

"Both of you, in my office, now" he ordered. Both novices let go of them, and Niva and Isas headed to the office, practically steaming at the ears. Isas was pinching the bridge of his sluggishly bleeding nose; Niva, who had found that she was clutching the remainder of her severed braid, was contemplating strangling Isas with it. Just as she was considering how quickly she could run if she did asphyxiate him, Airhawk lead them into his small office.

"Both of you- sit," the Headmaster commanded. Both sat gingerly on the edge of the seats. Niva surveyed Isas with grim satisfaction. His shirt was sodden with sprays of crimson blood, his cheek was bruised, and he looked the worst for wear than she did.

I'm glad, she thought obstinately, glaring furiously at Isas as though she could confer the thought by meeting his eyes. As though he felt her fury, he looked at her. His expression, as always, was passive, though he seemed annoyed.

"Frankly, I'm disappointed in both of you," Airhawk said as they sat down. "I expected that two young novices with such potential could resolve petty differences and work together. The work that you two could accomplish, the lives you could save, the differences you could make if you both could bond, are enormous. Few students have passed through these winding roads with the potential you both possess."

Neither spoke, though their mortified expressions were enough.

Airhawk turned to Isas. "Master Isas, this young lady did nothing to provoke what you did to her today, whether you carried out the act or not. It was entirely your idea to do so, and is not the standard behavior worthy of a man of your age and background."

Isas nodded, but did not look at Niva, who was scowling darkly at him, fingering the pitiful remains of her braid.

"And you, Niva." Niva glanced up. "You were warned when you first came to Winding Circle that physical violence was not to be tolerated in the slightest. Physically abusing a student is not a practical form of revenge for a young lady of your abilities, especially when I am certain you are capable of more damage." Niva regretted her rash judgment now, when she knew that a more reasonable and painful method would have been a new powder she had been creating. Maybe later, she decided.

"She's not a young lady," Isas muttered darkly.

"That title belongs to you," Niva hissed back. "All covered in rouge."

Isas fingered the crusted blood with a grim smile, but said nothing.

"As punishment," Airhawk continued as though he had not heard them, "neither of you will enjoy summer vacation this year. You will tend to the dormitory gardens the entire summer."

"I am visiting home over the summer," Isas said with a trace of disbelief. The punishment seemed to have knocked him off his pedestal.

"Cancel the appointment. All summer, you will tend to the garden. Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal clear, sir," Niva mumbled, furious. 'Tending a garden in the summer' was a polite term for nonstop weeding.

"You are dismissed," the Headmaster said. Both teenagers left the office in a huff, Niva still clutching her hank of hair.

A.N.: Well, so far, so good. Thanks for reviews, all!

P.L.

Angel Street! You're back! Or, rather, I'm back and finally typing again. I had to edit Shining Light- I couldn't even look at it without cringing.

Annmarie Aspasia: Well, it's common idea. I'd love to read yours- I am a sucker for Rosie/Crane goodness. The paragraphs don't seem long, but that could just be my program. Thanks for the heads-up!

Lady Leah of Chaos: Fwoo! Thanks, that's really nice! blushes

As always, concrete welcome!

Gwyn