Just a little something I thought of when I was loving Briar…yesterday. Hey! You! Go read my story!

Disclaimer: I write. But I don't copy. And this stuff? It's all copy-write. What? You say that's not what it means? I'm so disillusioned…

"Ah…finally, some rest."

Lady Sandrilene fa Toren, niece to Duke Edris and distant relation of the Empress, fell back on her neatly made bed with a sigh. A male's voice interrupted her exhaustion.

"Enough for you to talk about rest," said a shadow in the corner of her chamber, "I haven't been allowed to sit for weeks with the way my old teacher is going at me."

Sandry started and sat up. "Oh, Pasco! You startled me!"

The wiry youth stood from his place on the floor with a contented grin. "I know."

Sandry frowned at him, a thin line appearing between her perfectly arched brows. "I'm sorry, Pasco, I forgot that I promised I would meditate with you today. So much has been going on…" she trailed off, tired.

The 'so much' she was referring to included the remarriage of Duke Edris to his not-so-reputable wife, the rebuilding of a third of Emelan's resources from the recent attacks, and the remodeling of the entire palace in which she now was settled.

Even Pasco looked slightly impressed with the number of things that 'so much' seemed to indicate. But then he bowed, ruining the effect, and risked a cheerful grin.

"Well, at least now it's all over. For you, at least," Pasco, guardsman's child and recently discovered mage, added dolefully. Sandry laughed at him, then gestured towards the door.

"As much as I don't want to be rude, I truly do need some rest. Perhaps, if your overbearing task-master will free you next week, I can try to be there."

Pasco nodded, then grinned again. "And to think you used to yell at me for being late."

Sandry laughed and swatted at him, and he bowed low before skipping out. She smiled, then leaned back onto the lavish pillows, thinking of strange and wondrous things.

She was short, for her age, but not unreasonably so. She had long brown hair, ruffled just now from the work she had done in the weavers. She was petite, her face strong and firm, her eyes determined. She was not exactly beautiful, but there was something within her very movements that made one wish to look at her again. Over the years she had spent as Duke Vedris' ward, she had had plentiful suitors come to ask for her hand. But not one of them would she accept, and when Vedris had asked her why, she had simply shrugged and looked worried. Vedris' new wife, of course, had told him quietly that Sandry was a mystery waiting to be found out, and none of these pretty boys could fit her.

She flipped over on the covers, glad of the moment of privacy.

"My lady?" An aged manservant peeked into the room.

Sandry sighed. "Yes?"

"My lady, the Duke requires your presence in the drawing room."

She sighed again and nodded. The servant bowed and shut the door, allowing Sandry another few seconds of peace. She closed her eyes, trying to resume the attitude of peace she had had before she was interrupted.

"Cat dirt!" she cried finally, and stood, frowning at the wrinkles in the serviceable but fine linen she wore. Her surrogate father hated to see slothfulness.

She scowled at the wrinkles and sent a silent command spinning through the fibers.

Instantly, they heard her call and straightened themselves out, back into the pattern they had been sewn in.

Sandry smiled satisfactorily, and stepped out to speak with her uncle.

Perhaps it should be mentioned that Sandrilene fa Toren is also one of the four children known for being the youngest, and most powerful, mages in many thousand years.

……..

……..

"It simply isn't reasonable to make that assumption, especially now!"

Niklaren Goldeye, perhaps the most famous mage of his time, sighed deeply. He had been in this conference for far too long, and nothing had come of it.

"Perhaps we can try to use my stu- Trisana's former pupil's seeing globes, and then make an assessment." He suggested mildly. Across the world, in various chambers, the wisest mages had gathered in an urgent meaning, finding themselves all accosted by some strange sense of impending doom. However, even though they had been in meetings all day, nothing conclusive or even remotely reasonable had come of it, and all the hours had been more or less wasted.

Now, however, it seemed that things were going to let off for a while, for which Niko could only be thankful.

"It is settled, then. I will contact you all when there is more news."

Across the mental link, murmurs of assent and farewell were given, and Niko felt himself suddenly alone within his mind.

"Whew…" he sighed, and stretched his stiff muscles. Beside him, a tray of warm food rested, and he hungrily grabbed a roll and started eating.

"Knock knock!" Trisana, short, stubby, fierce, and incredibly powerful, poked her braided head into the room. Niko smiled at her, and she pushed the door open the rest of the way, looking peevish.

"You've been in here all day." She said matter-of-factly. Niko nodded, his mouth to full to speak, but his eyes rolled expressively enough.

Tris laughed. "You should know better than to talk to those chuffleheads; it only gives you headaches."

Niko swallowed and grinned ruefully, then downed the juice on his tray in one gulp. "I meant to go out today, maybe talk to your friend, but things seem to have taken an interesting turn."

Tris sat on the floor with a thump. "I'm listening."

"Well," Niko said between bites, "it seems that there has been a major premonition going on: not unlike the ones I and Moonstream had about the blue pox," he had to stop and grimace. He was referring to the time an incautious, second-rate magician had managed to create a deadly virus that had almost claimed the lives of one of their most beloved friends, Rosethorn.

Tris nodded. "So, a major disaster?"

Niko frowned, chewing and swallowing quickly. "That's just the problem. No one knows if it is a disaster or simply something really important." He gnawed a piece of soft meat off of its bone.

Tris was the one frowning now. "You mean you have no idea if it's even a bad thing?"

Niko shook his head. "None. It could be a cure for the cold, or it could be a worldwide flood. We just can't say."

"Wait a moment," Tris interrupted, " 'worldwide'? Just how many mages had this premonition anyway?"

Niko looked rueful, then serious. "I've been in contact with Sotat, Emelan, Lightsbridge…I can't think of a single place that hasn't been affected."

Tris looked impressed. "Maybe I could scry the winds?"

"No," Niko replied, "That kind of scrying only shows what is happening now, not in the future. Though," he added thoughtfully, looking at Tris, "it would be interesting to see what you could do with that."

Tris grunted at the light praise, then returned her gaze to Niko's craggy face. "I suppose you want my former student to make his lightning globes?" she asked gruffly.

Niko raised a bushy silver eyebrow at her, then nodded. "Yes. We need to know as much as we can about this-….whatever it is."

Tris nodded, and they sat in silence, contemplating the future.

…….

…….

"Daja! Rise and shine! Come meet this glorious day!"

Daja Kisubo, mage of metal and fire, groaned and rolled out of her pallet, rubbing her eyes and glaring at Frostpine, her former instructor and the greatest living metal mage.

"I'm up, I'm up…" Daja moaned, then rolled over and shut her eyes.

Suddenly a great, heavy weight settled on her shoulders, and she felt herself lifted into the air.

"UP!" Frostpine roared good-naturedly, heaving her down onto the cold floor of the inn they were at. Daja was wide awake in an instant, and furious with it.

"Frostpine!" she growled, but he just grinned at her mercilessly and marched out, shutting the door behind him.

Daja grumbled, but she was awake, and they were on their way back to Winding Circle, and that was enough to get her moving again.

She wasn't the only one returning of the original four who set out from Discipline all those months ago: Briar Moss, the only boy of their group, was nearing Emelan already, and Trisana Chandler was going to come back by ship.

Daja dressed quickly, grabbing her runic Trader staff, and sent up a prayer to all her gods. She didn't want this day to go bad. With any luck, she would be in the outskirts of Emelan by nightfall.

That much closer to Sandry and the others.

There was no mistaking it. Of all the people she had missed during her adventure in the freezing north, Sandry was the number one. Sandry was her dearest and closest friend, and had been for many, many years. Daja could hardly wait to see her again.

"Frostpine! Let's go home!"

…….

…….

She couldn't tell it, but that sentiment was being heartily echoed about two miles out of the great city of Emelan.

Home, home, home, home… Briar Moss, the earth mage of the four children, chanted his mantra over and over inside his head, his excitement getting the better of his cool façade. He had just spent the better part of a year inside a hot, arid desert where plants were only grown by magic. He had found a good deal of excitement before he had left, including finding a truly powerful stone mage, untrained, within the city.

But now…Now he was coming back to Winding Circle, and the grass and trees trumpeted in his mind, celebrating his return.

He greeted them as he passed, looking pleased that so many had regrown from the terrible drought of last year.

"Swipe that smug look off your face; they did it entirely on their own."

Briar started and turned, facing the lovely, aging sprite that sat behind him. Rosethorn had been his personal tutor when he had been living in Discipline, and despite her harsh nature, Briar knew she cared for him. Besides, despite Rosethorn's sharp words, he could tell she was as pleased by the regrowth as he was.

"Aw, lay off me. We're almost home!" Briar cried, mock whining.

"All these years of training, and you still can't speak like a human." Rosethorn shook her head, but she smiled beneath her close-cropped hair. She, too, was happy to be coming back to the land she loved and the people she cared for.

"Lark'll be happy. Does she know we're coming?" Briar asked pointedly.

Rosethorn's grin turned positively devilish. "No. But I think she could do with a surprise, don't you?"

Briar smiled, glad his teacher, and his friend, was so happy. And speaking of people who he cared for…

It had taken him a while to remember precisely why he was so much more happy to be back, but the answer had come to him last night.

He had been laying on the floor, wrapped in his nest of blankets, and had been feeling a little melancholic for no reason. He had cast his power around, searching for something to think about, when a familiar scent touched his wandering mind.

He breathed in deeply, concentrating. Bronze, steel, smoke. What the-

Hey, thief-boy.

Daja? He had jumped up and broken the tentative link in his shock. Then he resettled himself quickly, following the vine trail to where the metal-smith waited.

Surprised? Daja's mind-voice said.

Nah, he responded, trying to act nonchalant. Just had an itch.

Daja had laughed and bantered with him a few more minutes. Both of them were reveling in the contact that had been forbidden by distance for far to long. They had been as close as family until they had broken contact after receiving their mage status.

Daj', where are you?

Briar felt Daja smile through their link. About a day behind you. Maybe less. You know, I've been trying to reach you all day, thief-boy.

Briar had been surprised, but soon relaxed. Daja seemed like she never changed, not a bit from when they were last together. She still was solid, sure, and strong, like the metal than ran through her blood.

After they had spoken a while longer, Daja had finally asked him if he'd met any pretty girls on his trip.

Nope. They all looked too much like you.

Daja had yelled at him.

But I think a certain smith-mage named Kirel will be extremely happy to see you… Briar had teased.

He had felt Daja's blush. Maybe. We'll see.

Briar had grinned malevolently, but then Daja had spoken again.

Besides, plant boy, the person I'm really looking forward to seeing is Sandry.

Again, Briar had jerked, but this time the link held stable. I almost forgot! Sandry's going to be in Emelan!

Daja had sighed and sent a mental slap across the distance. Of course Sandry's in Emelan! She's been writing to us all year about it!

Briar had hit himself on the forehead, and Daja had sighed and told him it was time for her to go to bed.

Alright, goodnight. Lakik favor you.

Daja had snorted and closed the link, but Briar had lain in the darkness for a long time before he got any rest.

Sandry. He hadn't spoken to her in longer than any of them. The road had been long and harsh, and he didn't want to stop just to send a letter. But now, as he finally was nearing the place where Sandry actually was, he realized that what was truly exciting him was the thought of seeing her again. He and Tris were friends, and Daja was wonderful, but where Sandry was, that was home. If she was in the middle of the Hajran desert, it would still be home.

A fear suddenly struck him in the morning light. What if Sandry had changed? She was, after all, a royal. Maybe she had become snotty, or spoiled, or maybe she was going to be all cold and polite. Or maybe she had gotten married!

Stop that, Daja said inside his head, Sandry won't have changed.

For a moment, the horror of the last few words still lingered in his mind, but then he shook himself.

Of course not. He responded, and then the gates of Emelan came into view, and he broke off.

"Take me home." He whispered under his voice to his horse, and as morning faded to noon-tide, he entered the gates of his real home city and pictured the smiling face and snub nose that had been more and more in his dreams of late:

Lady Sandrilene fa Toren.

Home.