Elspeth slowed to a walk outside the entrance hall, then opened the door and went in. A woman stood inside the hall, making the shining mosaics on the walls seem dim with the force of her presence. She was not Yamani; her features spoke of the eastern lands, her skin a little too dark for Tortall. Her hair was black and white intertwined in the pattern of an oddly intricate hairstyle. She wore a long, white kimono embroidered in gold. It seemed to glow, luminous against the darker cast of her skin and hair. Her face was, oddly enough, the face of a warrior, commanding and hard, its former beauty worn away by age and hardship; indeed, she was very old. It showed not so much in her skin or the white in her hair but in her eyes there was the certainty of age.

Feeling awed and a little afraid for some reason, Elspeth bowed, Yamani style, something the etiquette master had taught the pages first year. "The court, my lady, is this way," Elspeth said, gesturing, feeling a little uncertain under the priestess's calm eyes.

"Yes, you will do fine," the woman whispered, in Common, although she had a strong Yamani accent. "I sense it in you, Ailatairu's light."

Elspeth stopped dead. "Pardon? My lady?"

"Seek her out," the woman said, her voice stronger. "A page of Tortall, bearing the light that will wash away dark magic, when it seeks to alter the balance of this world. And I have found you, Elspeth of Tameran, I have found you at last."

Elspeth was left completely speechless by this. How did the priestess know her name? And she did have the Gift, but it was a minor power, hardly enough to label her a mage. The spell-light she cast would be more likely to illuminate the pages of a book thandefeat dark magic.

Suddenly the woman reached forward and seized Elspeth's arm, bending it forward to bring her hand out, palm up. Her fingers were like iron; Elspeth had to bite her lip to keep from gasping in pain.

"My lady priestess…!"

"Hush, girl." With the hand not in a vise around Elspeth's elbow, the priestess reached forward and touched Elspeth's outstretched hand. hen she drew her fingers away there was a small, slightly luminous white mark that looked like a many-pointed star on the girl page's callused palm.

Curious, Elspeth looked back up at the woman, hoping for an explanation or at least a hint, but the priestess's face had gone still with pain, her eyes going blank. Exhaustion crossed her face, then she collapsed, falling to the tiled floor, her kimono like a pool of light.

"My lady!" Frightened, Elspeth knelt beside the woman and felt for her pulse; there was none. Truly panicking now, she ran outside the hall and into the corridor. A servant disappeared into a noble's room, and at the other end of the hall a man in the robes of a mage was muttering over a book. Elspeth knew him; he was Andam Seirdash, the man who was taught the pages magic.

"Master Andam!" she shouted, running down the hall.

He looked up, frowning. "Tameran? What are you doing here, and why are you shouting?"

"Oh, gods, Master Andam," she said, skidding to a halt. "I was called to escort a Yamani priestess to court, but she— she collapsed, I can't feel her pulse—"

Frowning even further, Andam followed her at a run back down the hall. They came to the entrance hall and Andam knelt by the priestess, then sighed. "She's dead. Mithros knows what is going to have to be said to the Yamanis. She looks old, might have had a heart illness." He stood. "Did she seem ill before she collapsed?"

"No, she looked quite…strong." Elspeth tried not to shiver as she thought of the now-dead woman. Death was not something she took very well. She brushed her hair back from her face, but as she did Andam reached out and caught her hand.

"And where did you get that?" he said, his voice soft with curiosity. He was staring at the small, white mark of the star on Elspeth's palm. Elspeth looked at it too— she had nearly forgotten about it in her panic.

"She—" For some reason she didn't want to tell him what had happened. "I—I don't know."

Andam, frowning, touched the star. Suddenly pain like a white-hot dagger shot through her head, agony worse than anything she had ever felt before. She screamed, spots before her eyes, her knees buckling, only-half aware of Andam letting go of her arm before she fell into blackness.

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A little shorter than the last chapter, but at least something happened...