I'd adjusted to my new home and lifestyle with relative ease. It wasn't all that different from that I'd enjoyed as the daughter of Tepet Demarol's now-former secretary (Ishah had dropped that bit of information while introducing the other day staff to me) except in minor details.

After a season or so it was hard at times to remember that I'd been anywhere else. Even Alina's face was a bit of a blur in my memory. If I ever Exalted, there were charms to be able to use to refresh those memories but right now… well, maybe it was being a baby or maybe it was just being a mortal…

Yeah, the sad fact is, even the most exceptional humans are at a disadvantage, if not an insurmountable one, when pitted against the Exalted. It was a humbling reminder of how little I'd appreciated it at times.

The entertainment value of a mobile suspended above my cot or the rattle I'd been offered (though only at times when the other children were awake already) was a bit limited. Holding the rattle gave me a chance at getting to grips with, um, gripping things but there wasn't all that much in the way of intellectual stimulation.

So, in the absence of anyone to tell me 'that's a stupid idea', I spent a while meditating and trying to mould my essence.

And yes, it is a stupid idea.

For Exalted, it's natural, something that puts us on a level with lesser spirits, demons and other spiritual beings. It's almost entirely instinctive to do so, at least for some basic levels and only the most cripplingly inept Exalt stops at that. Can you imagine a Water-aspected Terrestrial Exalt drowning? Of course not! (They might not be able to swim, but they wouldn't need to. Water-aspects can walk on water as easily as they can on grass.)

Mortals have much more trouble with it. We're simply not designed for it.

When the Primordials took the First Man away from Autochthon and decided to make a slave race based on his template, they had simple specifications: we had to be able to feed ourselves, make more of ourselves and pray. The last being the most important since we were to be providers of the prayers they feed upon.

If that sounds like cattle then you're exactly right.

Manipulating essence was absolutely not on the list. Which is not to say that a mortal can't do it, if they try hard enough. It takes years of contemplation, frequently augmented by medication. (Or a direct act of a spirit who is doing you a favour or thinks it'll be funny). It's usually traumatic and it still offers markedly less return than most Exalted get out of the ability.

Enlightenment is the process of awakening that first spark of essence within you, and for mortals it's usually reserved for the sagely hermit, the reckless would-be sorcerer or the dedicated martial artist. Most mortal authorities don't approve very much of the last two of those. Exalted authorities vary, but the Scarlet Dynasty disapproved strongly of the first two and would grant limited tolerance to the latter solely if they were students of and regulated by the Immaculate Order, as a side-order to the monks' more important duty of keeping spirits in their proper places and mortals offering them proper worship… and only the proper worship.

To be completely fair to the Order, most of what they did was good and necessary work. And channelling enlightened mortals into the ranks of the monks reinforced their manpower in a healthy fashion. It was something to aspire to if you didn't Exalt.

Of course, they also got expended in place of Dragon-Blooded during the Wyld Hunts that were called to exterminate Celestial Exalted if they were heard of.

For those who come from more enlightened times (no pun intended), during this era the Solar Exalted had been all but exterminated, mysteriously failing to Exalt in anything like their previous numbers. Without the Solars, the Lunar Exalted had mostly retreated to the furthest corners of Creation (where most of them were more comfortable anyway) and those that remained were murdered as quickly as possible by Dragon-Blooded who liked being top of the power totem. There was a theological doctrine justifying this by claiming Solars and Lunars weren't really Exalted (lies), were dangerously insane (unfortunately true due to a curse laid by the Neverborn, but also technically true of the Terrestrial Exalted) and probably demonically possessed (mostly false).

Enlightened mortals, being exemplars of skill and determination just to get to that stage, were statistically more likely to attract a celestial shard which was another reason for the powers that be to look poorly on them. Sometimes I think the only reason even the Immaculate Order tolerated them was that the Sidereal Exalted, who were busy pretending not to exist, found it a good way to prepare those destined to join their ranks for supernatural martial arts training.

So, in short, controlling your own essence is perhaps the most demanding thing any mortal could hope to do and it has a not insubstantial chance of crippling you if you get it wrong. Plus, if you do manage it, most sensible people will want to have firm conversations about keeping it to approved channels.

None of that makes it in any way appropriate as an activity for a baby who can't even sit up yet.

But on the other hand, I was really bored. Really really bored.

I'd mastered rolling over and sucking my toes; but Medra had commented, and in fairness I agree with her, that I wasn't physically strong enough to sit up or crawl. Baby proportions being what they are, my head made up too much of my overall body for my neck to support yet. If I wasn't flat on my face or my back, I needed someone to support my head for it.

And so, when the nursery door opened, I was breathing steadily and staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes as I contemplated the essence of my own self and tried to isolate a single mote of it.

It wasn't going terribly well, but the door opening got my attention. Or rather, the lack of response from the nurse who should have stood up or said something. She was as much a guard as anything else. Was something wrong?

Blinking my eyes, which were a little dry, I made the herculean effort to roll over and angle myself to look over the edge of the cot at the door. What I saw was a dark aged boy of six. I think he might have been at the adoption ceremony but perhaps not. I hadn't got a good look at anyone but those directly involved. He was dressed pretty well though, in silk tunic and trousers that were finely detailed but obviously cut to let him grow into them.

But in any case, I knew what he was, if not who he was: entertainment.

"Goa!" I proclaimed and waggled my hands in his direction.

The boy ducked his head and looked around frantically, relaxing as he saw something on the far side of my cot.

Whatever it was, I couldn't spot it from here so I did my party-piece and rolled over again to get to the other side of my cot. Of course, having done that I was so dizzy that I had to stop and catch my breath. Eventually, however, I managed to pick out that Usha, the day nurse on duty this afternoon, had apparently succumbed to the quiet and to the muggy weather. She was leaning back in her chair at the side of the room and snoozing.

She'd be in trouble if she was caught, I noted. On the other hand, that left me unsupervised and with a visitor, which was the most exciting thing to happen in… however long. I wasn't sleeping regularly enough to have a good idea of the calendar.

When I looked up, I saw the boy peering down at me in the cot quizzically.

"Zagu!" I greeted him and waggled my arms welcomingly. Hello entertainment, entertain me!

He took my hand and ran his fingers over mine cautiously. "Little fingernails," he noticed in some surprise, although he kept his voice low.

I'm not sure what he expected, but since he was right, I patted the back of his hand in congratulation. I probably shouldn't have though, since he took that as encouragement and reached out and pinched my cheek.

Not the gentle tickle-like pinch of Medra, no he did it seriously.

"Wauuuu!" I protested, eyes watering beyond my control and flailing as much as I could, which wasn't much.

He released me hastily and glanced at Usha guiltily. She didn't stir – obviously a heavy sleeper. "Wauu…" I repeated in a quieter voice and sniffled, trying to control the snot that had decided to start flowing in imitation of my tears.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe at my face. I rubbed my nose and eyes on it as best I could and then gave him a smile when he removed it. He was obviously trying his best.

Leaning over he examined me again. "Are you Opiha?"

"'pa?" I managed. Hmm. No, that was the other girl in here. She was about my age I guessed – we couldn't exactly talk and compare. I had a vague impression that she had light hair from occasional glances at her when I was out of my cot for some reason. We were sleeping next to each other, barriers to the twins who were a bit older and crawling, the lucky snots.

He nodded. "Opiha. I'm your brother Icole." He placed one hand over his heart and bowed slightly. "My tutor wouldn't let me in to see you until now."

Oops, I guess he'd thought I was confirming my identity. It might be fun to trick him, but it would be bad in the long run. "'Cul," I managed, waving my hand at him.

"That's right, I'm Icole," the boy confirmed.

I rolled partway over and waved in the direction of the next cot. "'Pa!"

"Yes, you're Opiha!"

I shook my head as best I could. "'Na!" Then waved at the other cot. "'Pa!"

He frowned. "No?"

I finally slumped onto my back. Staying on my side was hard! "Na!" I said again, patting my chest. Then I stretched one hand as far towards the other cot. "'Pa!"

He turned away and investigated, "Opiha?"

There wasn't a reply, which really didn't surprise me. She was probably dead to the world, poor baby. At least she probably wasn't as bored as me.

I wondered what would happen to Icole. He was probably born around 743 or so, which meant… I made a face. If he went for a soldier, which was a fairly typical career in House Tepet, then he'd probably be in the legions facing the Bull of the North in fifteen years or so. Which meant nine chances out of ten that he'd be killed.

My eyes started to water again, all on their own. Stupid immature body.

The occasional visits by Icole over the following months were something of a highlight of my first year as a Tepet. I might not be his actual sister, but since it was likely as not that one of us was asleep, he was more than happy to play with me. Particularly once I was out of the cot and crawling.

He even proved himself a true dynast-in-training when Usha woke up during his third visit and blackmailed her into giving him access in the future and not telling his tutor that he was in here. I'm not sure how much trouble he'd get into for being here, but I'm fairly sure it was nothing compared to the amount of grief Usha would get for falling asleep on duty.

She certainly never dared do it again, so that was a good thing. After all, I needed someone on attention to feed me, change my nappy and everything else I couldn't do myself. A list that became a little shorter once I was able to sit up, scoot around my cot on my bottom (somewhat to the detriment of my nappy) and finally crawl.

Crawling around on the carpeted nursery floor was all very well, but after a while it was just about as familiar as the inside of a cot. I'd been moved into a larger one with high railed sides to keep me from getting out on my own, so it was pretty much like having my own cell.

Yes, I tried the 'raking a cup along the bars' thing until Medra took it off me and swatted my behind.

The toy chest was good for a little entertainment. Most of it didn't suit me, but a stuffed tyrant lizard gave me something to practise lifting and carrying in my cot without disturbing anyone. And if Doreg wasn't hoarding the blocks to make castles for his toy soldiers, I could play with those.

But by the time I was making my first stab at walking, I hadn't left the nursery room in over a year, and I was sure of that because Calibration - the five days that ended a calendar year - had been celebrated twice since the adoption ceremony. All I had to look forward to was the vague promise of lessons coming up, but even those would have to wait until I could get my tongue to co-operate in talking clearly.

So, yes, it was feeling increasingly prison-like. Medra, bless her, noticed my increasing unhappiness and one morning I woke up to find her still there – as I got better at sleeping through the night, I'd wound up seeing less and less of her.

"I think she's a little bit young to be allowed out," Ishah was arguing half-heartedly. "I prefer that the children remain here until they're old enough for lessons."

"But this is a lesson," Medra offered with a charming smile and more confidence than their relative positions in the household should have conveyed. She was older and, I suspect, wiser than Ishah. "The lesson is, if you behave well and don't make a mess of your breakfast, you get rewarded."

The two nannies gave me thoughtful looks and I tried to look innocent. I didn't mean to drop my plate onto the floor the day before. I was trying to be helpful and give my mostly cleaned plate to Ishah. The fact that the 'not cleaned' parts of the plate included cold noodles that might be soft enough for my fledgling teeth but tasted disgusting was a coincidence. Truly.

And it was a wooden plate. Nothing had been broken!

I'm not sure how convinced they were, but the morning routine followed its usual path except that it was Medra, not one of the day nannies, helping me out of the nightdress and changing my nappy. And no, it didn't matter that I hadn't soiled it. Fresh day, fresh nappy was the rule. I think they'd have been less intransigent on this if they didn't have laundry maids to foist cleaning the nappies on.

Once that was on, a fresh tunic that was so flared to fit over my nappy that it was a dress in all but name (for some reason a 'proper dress' was reserved for adults) and then a recent addition, knee-length bloomers.

I am convinced that I looked a complete idiot, but there weren't any mirrors around and I wasn't being given a choice.

Medra lifted me into a high chair for breakfast with rather more effort than she'd needed a year ago. I was growing, if not as quickly as I would have liked. There were four high chairs now and we were lined up in much the same way as the cots were – for about the same reason. Nalan was sitting sulkily next to my chair with Doreg happily seated beyond the empty fourth chair. The blond boy had taken up his spoon and was drumming it on the tray in front of him, less impatiently and more – I believe – because it made a noise.

He may also have been rubbing it in that he was the only one of us who had been given a spoon so that he could feed himself. Nalan had demanded the same privilege but after that ended with the twins flinging food at each other, it had been denied.

A cheerful Opiha was dropped into the remaining chair, where she rubbed her eyes and then beamed at everyone. She was dressed the same way I was, but on her it looked cute. At first glance she seemed to be an albino with snow-white hair and crimson-irised eyes, but there was nothing unhealthy about it. If anything, her skin pallor was healthier looking than mine.

Breakfast was rice, mixed with fruit and – to my pleasure, a soft-boiled egg. Medra spooned it up matter-of-factly, gripping it firmly and refusing my attempts to take the spoon. "No, Alina," she told me firmly. "Don't play with your food. If you're good we can go for a walk after breakfast."

"Wa-" I started to ask and then got food spooned into my mouth. I glared at her, chewed and swallowed. Covering my mouth so she couldn't do that again, I asked "Weally walk?" Damned lisp.

"Yes, really take a little walk around outside."

I lowered my hands and let her feed me the rest of breakfast. Outside might as well have been a magic word. Even if I saw nothing I hadn't seen before, at least I'd get out of the nursery for a while.

"Want walk!" Nalan protested from next to me.

Ishah sighed heavily.

"Can you walk across the whole nursery?" Medra asked the boy.

He nodded eagerly and then wilted when she gave him a sceptical look. "No," the greyish-blonde haired boy admitted.

The old woman used her free hand to pat him reassuringly on the head. "When you can then I'll take you out on a walk too. Just one of you at a time though." Then she looked back at me. "I'm not trying to keep two of you out of trouble out there."

I nodded in understanding. "Dat fair." Argh. Why were 'th' sounds so hard for my tongue?

"Me too, me too!" exclaimed Opiha, clapping her hands and then leaning forwards to practically suck a mouthful of rice off the spoon Usha was holding.

"Of course," agreed Medra reasonably. It wasn't as if she'd have to honour that for a while. Opiha was still working on standing for any length of time when she had something to lean on.

With breakfast over, I thought we'd go for the walk right away – after all, Medra had been up overnight, so she would probably just want to take a short walk, then bring me back once I was tired out enough to want a nap.

But no, this made it dress up time again, for it was autumn and Ishah was bound and determined that if I was going outside that I should be fully dressed for it.

So, in addition to shoes – or rather socks with thick leather soles sewn to them – I got trousers for the first time. Over, not instead of, the bloomers. And a quilted coat that might be appropriate for deep winter, but in what seemed to be rather temperate weather made me feel overheated already.

And that was before I got the hat.

"No." I stared at the furry cap they were offering.

Medra put her hands on her hips. "No walk?"

I pointed at the cap. "Too hot."

"Would you rather wear the bonnet?" she asked me.

I sighed. I look stupid anyway. "Bonnet then." At least that wouldn't overheat me.

The bonnet, of course, was now far too small for me. It had been a year and I'd outgrown it. Finally, we compromised and Medra took the cap with us but I didn't have to wear it unless it seemed like I was too cold.

Finally, we were ready and I got to approach the door, one hand firmly in Medra's while the other nannies kept their charges from trying to break out with me.

Outside the room was a courtyard that I'd seen before on the way to my formal adoption. It did differ somewhat – there were no laundry poles for one, and the tree at one end was a weeping willow rather than a chestnut. It was also nearer to the nursery entrance and thus its fronds served as a partial barrier to the far end where a small group were doing something.

Walking slowly, so as not to lose my balance – and occasionally having to rely on Medra's grip for the same reason – I made my way along the covered porch to investigate and saw Icole and two other children of a similar age being drilled in a martial arts kata by an older man.

I'd have waved but it would be poor form to distract them from their training. Instead I let Medra draw me further around, keeping my eyes locked on the training session. It seemed that they were working on the mortal basics that underlay the Five Dragons supernatural style. It was a fairly common style among Terrestrial Exalted – a soldier's style, which included the use of the spear and the sword. It didn't surprise me that a House Tepet household would have a sifu for the style.

"Do you like watching them?" the old nanny asked as we walked.

I nodded my head. I'd got a fair grip on Five Dragon style back before – I wouldn't call myself a master but I was pretty good. It was a functional style that suited my preferred approach to fighting.

She let go of my hand and rested her hand on the top of my head. "Hmm, you don't seem cold, let's stand and watch them a little."

I nodded and watched as the sifu worked through a series of forms, showing the children how to do it. It was a familiar set of moves, something that if you channelled essence could rip through an armoured soldier. Even without it, the target would be hit harder than you might expect.

Once he'd demonstrated, the sifu had the children perform it for him and corrected their errors.

Icole seemed to be having trouble, I noted. He had his arms right, but his leg was off-line. I instinctively moved to mimic him, then turned my leg to the correct position, trying to hint where he was going wrong.

He was quick on the uptake; I'll give him that. By the time the teacher reached him, his leg was in the proper place and his moves had a smoothness that they had lacked earlier.

"Good," the man grunted, giving him an approving nod. "Your balance is better."

Medra looked down at me. "Are you bored?"

"No." I shook my head and watched as the group worked through a defensive form to counterbalance the offensive form they'd just done. Icole seemed to have this down, but as I worked through it – as best I could in the coat and with such short limbs – he kept glancing at me for comparison.

I saw the sifu follow the dark-haired boy's gaze and he shook his head. Then there was a thwack as he drove the heel of his hand against Icole's shoulder, sending the boy staggering. "Watch your own form," he said firmly. "Not distractions." Then he turned a withering look towards myself and Medra.

The old woman dipped her head apologetically and took my hand. "Come along, Alina. We're being a bother."

I tried to bow to the sifu in apology, but I didn't have the balance for it and Medra's hand pulled me off my feet. I lost my balance, spinning slightly before I collided with the old woman's leg.

She dropped to a crouch and picked me up. "You must be tired already."

As tempting as it was to protest that, I knew I'd just appear petulant so instead I twisted towards the sifu and offered a dignified apology.

Well, I wish. I lisped, "I'm sowwy." It's not impossible to be dignified and under two feet tall, but it's also not a trick that I've mastered. Particularly when I just almost did a prat-fall.

Surprisingly though, the sifu took it well. "You're not old enough to join in at practise yet. And my current students aren't quite ready to train with distractions around. I'll teach you when you're ready."

"Dank you." I waved to Icole, who discreetly returned the gesture.

Medra shook her head and carried me back towards the nursery. "Well, it's a short walk but given you managed to cause trouble with that…"

"Sowwy," I repeated.

"I'm sure that you are. Perhaps if we try this again, we'll go somewhere else," she offered and I brightened up at the prospect of another expedition. I thought I might have spent more time getting dressed up for this one than I had outside the nursery.

Looking up at the Imperial Mountain, visible over the buildings that surrounded the willow tree, I noticed something and giggled.

"You're in a good mood all of a sudden?"

"Big mountain," I declared proudly.

"Yes, little Alina. It's a very big mountain. The biggest in all of Creation."

That wasn't why I was laughing though. It had just occurred to me. I must be in Juche Prefecture, judging by the angle I was seeing the mountain from. So, I'd been reborn in time… but in space I'd been born only a few miles beneath where I had – or would – die. There was an irony to that.

Learning through playing was not exactly a new idea and the nannies started us off on learning to read with bricks marked with letters. I tried to underplay that I knew them all already and tried to make believable mistakes, but incompetence is a deception that comes hard to me and I quickly overtook Nalan, a year older than me. It was hard enough to let his twin win in the little 'say the letter' games.

Once Medra was sure I knew all ninety-five characters (albeit in a simplified script) we went on to learning words. This was serious business, even if we were using wooden blocks. There was a highly official Imperial Vocabulary that children were required to know and be able to say and spell – starting with three thousand words needed for writing instructions in a basic military or bureaucratic role, and then working your way up.

At higher levels, graduating a major secondary school required demonstrating you could correctly use tens or hundreds of thousands of words applicable to the school's focus. Even at the Heptagram, the Realm's one official school of sorcery, spelling bees were a major part of testing. Especially at the Heptagram, in fact, since making a mistake in your spelling or pronunciation when you're summoning or binding a demon can be fatal – and not just for the sorcerer.

At least here I could relax a bit, since High Realm wasn't my first language and I'd never actually been formally educated in it. I spoke the major trading tongues and Old Realm, the tongue from which High Realm was derived, but they were significantly different. Still, I understood the concepts far better than any of the others so caution was indicated.

"She's very bright," Medra reported to Ishah, who seemed unimpressed but guardedly allowed that the excursions of walking around the courtyard (but not when martial arts training was underway) could continue.

Doreg got his own excursions, naturally, and Nalan eventually graduated to them – although he tired quickly and (like me) he was so far still confined to the children's courtyard, as I learned that this part of the village-sized complex around the manse was called. There were others and Doreg, the lucky dog, got to make a passing visit through the stables, one of the guest courtyards and even visiting his mother's quarters in the family courtyard.

On one of those walks he returned with an interloper, or at least that was how it felt.

Toddling was a bit young to be picking up a girl, but at about the time I was first allowed to start trying to recreate letters on a wax tablet, Doreg was walked back in by Usha and they were followed by another servant and a girl who was just a little taller than even the twins. The servant was carrying bags and they were pretty clearly moving her in.

Opiha found the brown-haired girl intimidating for some reason she couldn't express and half-hid behind me as Doreg aped the manners of our elders and introduced us all.

"Cousin Hunt, this is my brother Nalan, he's ill all the time," the blond declared boldly. "And these are the girls. Alina and Opiha with the white hair."

Hunt – the girl's name, I correctly assumed – stalked forwards. "You should curtsey," she corrected us. "'M a lady of the dynasty."

Opiha eeped and tried to obey, but had to lean on me instead. "You shoot curtsey too," I told Hunt. "First, wan you intro-doos yourself." It would have been more effective a put down if I'd been able to handle the pronunciations.

Hunt jerked her head back, but then stumbled on verbally without acknowledging the point. "Which one of you is the ba-steward?"

"Little Hunt!" Ishah gasped, pulling her back. "You should not use the word."

"But it's true," the brunette asserted. "My mama said that grandfather had adopted a ba-steward because she was a dragonseed. And stewards are servants, not dynasts."

Medra gave the servant accompanying Hunt a long, sceptical look. "The word, little Hunt, is bastard." She pronounced it carefully. "It has nothing to do with steward. I will get out the blocks and show you how they are different."

"An excellent idea," Ishah agreed. "And little Alina became your aunt when the lord adopted her, so she will form the fourth branch of the household."

I looked up at that, keeping my fingers interlaced with Opiha's. That sounded useful to know. I didn't really have a good grip on how we were related, or supposedly related, yet. "What are the bwanches?"

Hunt drew herself up. "I'm the daughter of the second branch, ba-steward."

Ishah had apparently had enough of that, because she hoisted Hunt off the floor and carried her to a seat. "I've told you not to use that word," she said firmly. "Now you'll sit there and think about what you did wrong. If it happens again, there will be a spanking."

Usha cleared her throat. "The lord and lady have four living children," she explained to me, subtly drawing the rest of us over towards where Medra was unpacking the blocks with letters on them. "In cases where they have children themselves, they form their own branch of the household. Opiha's grandfather Lord Etune is the head of the first branch, little Hunt's mother lady Erasa is the second branch – although she has been living with her husband until now. And Doreg and Nalan's mother Lady Awyne has founded the third branch."

I nodded slowly to show that I understood, but Nalan chewed his lip. "We should be da second branch," he claimed. "We was here first."

"Your mother is the younger sister of Hunt's mother." Usha smoothed her skirt down. "Just like you're Doreg's younger brother."

"Now, who can guess how to spell steward?" asked Medra, showing us the blocks.

Doreg eagerly plunged in, eager to show his education. He was very proud of how he could recognise words. Fortunately, High Realm was a phonetic language. The hieroglyphs of the Dragon King's High Holy Speech had always given me trouble. (Dragon Kings are nothing to do with Dragon-Bloods, incidentally. They're an almost extinct race of sun-worshipping lizards).

"I want to do it!" Nalan complained. "I can do it."

"Why don't you help little Alina spell adopted," suggested Medra tolerantly.

The boy considered that and then nodded, scrabbling over the blocks looking for ones that sounded right as he read them off aloud. He was a little vague on the concept of 'help' but he was only three.

Opiha crawled forwards to the chest and pulled out a doll that she hugged to herself. Then she studied the doll's hair and discarded it, finding another doll with lighter hair to hug. I sat down next to her and put one arm around her shoulders.

"Once you can spell the words with blocks, we'll see if you can write them in wax."

The two excited boys accelerated their sorting of the blocks, almost coming to blows over the PI block until I crawled over and took hold of it. "Wong block," I said firmly and put it down. "It is not ado-pi-ted."

"That's right, little Alina," confirmed Medra. "What have you boys found so far? Why don't you sort them out and see what you need?"

Once we had the words out, Hunt was allowed off the seat and joined us as four wax tablets were provided, smoothed out since their last use. Opiha was carried off as she wasn't comfortable with writing yet and we four started trying to copy out the two words onto our respective tablets.

My fingers just didn't have the dexterity yet though. I was still so much smaller than the others, still – intellectually I knew that a year or so's difference wasn't going to lapse soon but it was frustrating. I could only clench my little fist around a stylus and draw straight-lines in the wax, but curves always wildly distorted.

Frustrated, I stared at what I'd done. It was so distorted that I couldn't even pretend I had the letters right.

"Perhaps next time," Medra noted and scooped me up. "How about a nap, Alina?"

"Metitate!" I proclaimed. I'd slipped and used the word before, so all I could do was play into it.

The old woman nodded; lips curled in amusement. "Yes, of course, meditation." She moved me into my cot and sat me down. "Don't let us disturb your meditation."

I closed my eyes. "Won't."

Almost, but not quite out of hearing, I heard Usha murmur: "At least she doesn't throw tantrums like Nalan."

"He has a sensitive disposition," Ishah said a little louder. "And don't speak ill of the masters' children."

I tried to ignore them and focus on my essence again. I wasn't making much progress, but there was just enough sensation of it to feel that I was getting somewhere with it. I slowly leaned back, feigning that I was actually falling asleep. The delicate effort to keep myself balanced and only steadily recline rather than slumping down directly would help my abdominal muscles. I was going to need to be fit and healthy for martial arts classes once I was old enough.

Finally, flat on my back I feigned a yawn that drew out much more than I had expected. Maybe I was… a little… tired…?

Zzzzz.

I barely noticed someone pulling a blanket up over me.

Before martial arts could begin, it seemed that we were to have some other active classes. They did at least not take place in the nursery so I was enthusiastic right up until I saw the harp outside on the grass next to our teacher for this.

I am, shall we say, not very adept at music. In addition to being basically tone-deaf. Maybe I could have a drum to beat. I can at least keep a regular beat.

There was no drum and any relief at learning the harp was for our teacher was eclipsed by the idea that we would be singing.

"Music is very important for soldiers," the harpist explained. Nolly was an eager looking woman with her hair cropped rather short. "On a long march it keeps the spirits up." She ran her hand over the strings, plucking at them idly. "In camp it entertains. And a singer's voice is important for projecting your words on a battlefield. Both officers and soldiers charged with relaying their words benefit from singing."

She was apparently paying no real attention to her playing as she instructed us. Nalan was definitely interested though, the boy had perked up and was watching her fingers intently.

"And of course, there are the courtly times here at home. I can't count the times I've performed for your grandfather either as the entertainment for his guests or simple background music during a banquet. As children of the household, you're all expected to be competent in arranging such matters and perhaps showing off your talents to guests."

She rubbed her hands together and indicated a chalkboard next to her. "I've written the words to a song here for you to sing, so move closer until you can all read it."

We obediently clustered forward and Usha brought stools out for us to use between singing, Opiha and I at the front while the older three sat behind us.

"Now first just read along as I sing, then we'll all have a go," Nolly instructed.

I recognised the topic of the song – an extremely simplified tale of the Immaculate Dragon Mela learning the secrets of sorcery so she could wield them against the Anathema. A very stripped-down adaptation of an original where it was the legendary Solar Exalted Brigid who first discovered the art of sorcery. For some reason the Terrestrials were not eager to give such credit to the tyrants they'd overthrown.

Still, ancient politics aside, it didn't look too bad and Nolly sang it well, before running us through the chorus en masse. I would like to stress that I don't dislike singing. I just recognise that I'm no good at it.

The chorus was alright, with any issues I had masked by the other children, although Nolly was looking at each of us carefully in turn.

We would sing in order of age, she decided. Hunt first as the oldest, followed by Doreg, Nalan, myself and Opiha. Each of us would have a turn at the verses while we would continue to sing the chorus together.

To be completely fair, while I have issues with Hunt's behaviour, she was a decent singer. Doreg might have been better, although I couldn't really have judged.

And then it was Nalan's turn and by the Bath of Venus, that boy can sing. His voice hadn't broken yet of course, we were easily ten years from that, but he was clear and… I don't know the words. But he'd clearly been listening to Nolly carefully and as best I could tell he hit every note.

The harper favoured him with a smile and a "Very well done," rather than the milder compliments the earlier two had received.

Then it was my turn and Nolly's smile visibly slipped as I shrilled my way through the verses. "That was a good try," she told me diplomatically and turned towards Opiha. The little girl gamely stood up and… lalala'd her way through the song, picking up around one word in five.

The sad thing was, she was at least hitting the notes better than I did. Doreg was positively sniggering.

"I see," Nolly observed when we were done. "Well, I think that Alina and Opiha may be a little young yet for the singing so we'll start the two of you dancing while the older children keep singing." She beckoned Usha over and the two women demonstrated some simple and repetitive dance steps. "The two of you need to keep this in track with the song," she explained. "You're partners so try to keep in unison."

Well at least I wouldn't be embarrassing myself too much if I didn't have to open my mouth. Opiha seemed a bit put out that we weren't singing but since she wasn't alone in that, she put her chin up and followed me off to the side where we could dance in Nolly's view without distracting the three singers.

If anyone thinks that two little girls could master even simple dance steps some time… well, you're fools. But martial arts training does involve a fair bit of watching someone move and then trying to copy them, so I wasn't at a dead loss.

Opiha wasn't as practised, but she was enthusiastic and really not any clumsier than I was. She was able to walk on her own now so we had that going for us. I'm sure that we didn't look at all graceful, but after the fourth or fifth time we were more or less on the right marks.

By the seventh or eighth, it was boring and that was where I started throwing in some variations. The dance steps weren't so very different from one of the more esoteric martial arts I'd picked up over the years, perhaps an overlap since it was one that I'd picked up when moving in courtly circles. If you can't think of a reason that a martial artist might want to mask their moves as dance steps, then you've clearly never attended a formal ball where poisons are being dished out both literally and figuratively as liberally as the wine and canapes.

It was a little challenging to do some of the steps with shorter limbs and with the bulk of a nappy around my hips (such as they were) – I was looking forward so much to moving on to less restrictive undergarments. Hunt wasn't in a nappy so hopefully it wouldn't be far off that Ishah would accept that I had adequate control over my bladder and bowels.

"Very good, Opiha," Nolly congratulated the other girl during a break in the singing. "You're getting the hang of it. I thought you were getting it down, Alina but you've been tottering for the last few times. Are you tired?"

"No," I said honestly. Stumbling indeed. That was the Owl Clutching sequence, adding in more complex footwork.

"Hmm." She didn't seem convinced. "Just try copying Opiha."

"Yes teacher."

"Usha." She beckoned the servant over. "Please keep a closer eye and correct Alina if she needs it."

"Opiha's such a good dancer," Hunt declared to Doreg in a carrying voice. "And Nalan can sing very well." There was an illustrative pause. "I'm sure Alina has other talents."

Poisonous little crow, it was no surprise that her father was apparently from House Cynis.

As classes went on, we occasionally found ourselves studying with the older children. Not often, since there were a few years between Icole, the youngest of his particular batch of children, and Hunt. But sometimes age didn't particularly seem to matter; or the older children were being set to prove what they'd learned by teaching it to us - under supervision, naturally.

There were times when this provided a helpful edge of maturity, but since we were dealing with children on the verge of being sent off to boarding school with children several years from that, I could count those occasions on the fingers of one hand.

Which was fortunate because formal Creation mathematics is in base five so that was how we were taught to count. Thumb, forefinger, long finger, ring finger, Littlefinger… one, two, three, four, five. Then raise a finger on your other hand and repeat. Gets you up to twenty-five without needing more than two hands.

When I saw Doreg following Icole around under the willow tree, asking him about the history of House Tepet, I knew that this was not going to be one of those helpful times.

The fact that Nalan was sulking from the porch told a story, given he'd had a coughing fit last night. He was bundled up in a heavy coat and hat, much as I'd been the first time I was allowed out.

I toddled up behind him and patted him on the shoulder. "Do you feel better?"

"Go away," he grumbled.

I sat down on the edge of the porch and swung my legs. "Dey won't let me out." 'Th' was still my nemesis.

"Go back inside then." He tucked his hands up under his elbows, although it wasn't really all that cold. "I don't want to talk to a dirty bastard."

I blinked. Huh, Ishah would be annoyed that they hadn't drummed that word out of our lexicon after Hunt brought it up. "I had a bath last night. You were there."

Bath night was a pretty public affair, since there was one pair of bathtubs we all got washed in succession like a production line of being soaked and soaped up in the first tub, then rinsed with water from the second tub of hot water, and then getting to soak in that second tub until the next child was rinsed off.

Nalan gave me a sidelong look. "That's not what it means."

"What does it mean?"

"..."

I pulled on his sleeve. "What's a dirty ba-steward?"

"It's not ba-steward, it's bastard," the boy corrected me. "And you're a bastard."

I wasn't going to tell him he was wrong, because he wasn't. It was still a circular argument though. "So, what's wrong with being a bastard?"

He froze again. "I…"

I kicked my legs back and forth until he seemed about to say something and then changed the subject. "Are you mad at Doweg?"

"Yes!" Nalan exclaimed and then shook his head. "No."

I reached over and patted him. "Ith okay to be mad at him sometimes." Ah! I'd done 'th'... but not when I was trying to! Curse this tongue. No, wait, I'd been cursing it for a year now. Bless this tongue! Bless it with not making me lisp!

"But he's my twin."

"So?"

"Ishah says I shouldn't be mad at my twin."

"Ishah says Doweg thouldn't leave you behind to play with Icole," I pointed out and pointed at the two of them. "Ith okay to be mad."

Nalan moved over and sat down next to me. "But what can I do? I can't beat Doreg at anything. I'm always ill and I keep falling behind. Even you're better at reading now and you're tiny."

"Sanks." I thought about it and then remembered that in reading class, Icole had been charged with reading us the introduction to the Thousand Correct Actions of the Upright Soldier. The book was a manual for soldiers in the legion and practically gospel within the martial House Tepet. We weren't expected to know the details of the contents yet, but the introduction and its basic philosophy were something we were introduced to early.

"In the next class, after Doweg shows off by answering something, tell him he's a 'pewfected ideal of a fighting individual'," I quoted, sounding the words out carefully. Argh, so close!

Nalan lay back. "Why should I say something nice to him if I'm mad?"

"Because it's not something nice." Doreg had been pestering Icole so much he'd not really had much chance to explain the text to myself or Nalan. It would be perfectly understandable Nalan had misunderstood it, and if Doreg was so puffed up that he accepted it as a compliment…

I covered my mouth so I didn't giggle evilly. I really didn't want to be an evil child, that would be creepy.

"It sounds nice," muttered Nalan.

"The upright soldier is not an individual," I explained. "That's how the Thousand Correct Action admonishes the pwideful and Doweg is pwetty pwideful."

Nalan laughed. "You're really smart, Alina."

"Sank you."

"How come you're so clever when you're little?"

"I haveta be clever because I'm little." I sighed despondently. Even Opiha was taller than I was now. Medra had started working some of the tunics the white-haired girl had been using into my own selection, since they fit on me but didn't on her. It just wasn't fair.

It was lonely not having anyone to talk to on my level. Then again, if I ran into any of my old Circle, they'd probably tease me incredibly over being a little girl. Not in a mean way, but because jabbing at each other over inconsequential things was how we showed affection.

Instead I was surrounded by children I could run metaphorical circles around and adults who wouldn't take me seriously unless I told them enough about me for them to be sure I was a threat to their status. Some of my circle might have been able to leverage being a little girl somehow - some of the more social butterfly types could meld that perfectly with being utter killing machines, but I was too blunt and direct to be cute.

Um. That perfected fighting individual cut a bit close, now that I thought about it. I was a Terrestrial Exalt, by design I should be working as a pack with my kinfolk. Instead I'd gravitated to being the support and logistics for a circle of Celestials, cheating my way up to parity with them in areas like combat so that I wasn't a liability.

Perhaps I would get more from studying the Thousand Correct Actions of the Upright Soldier than I thought.

"I have another idea," I declared, climbing up to my feet. "Leth go inside and ask Ishah for the Thousand Cowwect Actions tho we can wead it together."

Nalan groaned and rolled over. "Okay," he agreed and coughed.

We exchanged looks and sighed. Better get inside now, before that got worse and the nannies put him to bed for the day. I wasn't sure if they were overreacting or not. My medical knowledge was more about battlefield surgery and esoterica than it was about childhood illnesses.

The children's courtyard did include a good-sized classroom for teachers to use when the weather or the specifics of a lesson didn't fit well with teaching us outside in the courtyard. Larger than we really needed, but I suspected it was planned for more children - perhaps Demarol had once been a larger household or perhaps it was just scaled to allow for growth in our numbers in the future. Natural light was somewhat constrained inside, but the importance of education was such that when the room was used, a rare treasure was employed.

Before class began, Ishah unlocked a heavy chest that was chained to the wall and allowed Nolly to remove the contents, placing a crystal sphere in a sconce mounted higher up the wall. A dim flicker of light at the heart of the sphere began to swell in magnitude and after a moment light streamed from it, providing ample illumination for our lessons.

The crystal was centuries old, an imperishable luxury that even wealthy families didn't have many of. Which was kind of sad because two thousand years ago, they'd been made in such quantities that even the humblest household had thought nothing of using them to light every room.

Unfortunately, the only factory-cathedral making them had been in the far West, on an island that fell into the Wyld during Balor's Crusade. And imperishable was not the same as unbreakable. Year after year, century after century, they'd become less and less available.

I could make another, given the right tools, but it was ridiculously inefficient to tie up one craftsman and his tools and assistants for months to make one glorified lightbulb. And retooling one of the tiny handful of factory-cathedrals to construct them was unthinkable when their services were vital to maintaining the Realm's military infrastructure.

And thus, lights had gone out steadily across Creation.

Today's lesson was arithmetic, which was couched in Nolly reading problems out from an instructional manual and leaving it up to us to work out what approach to use to solve it. For fairness, she gave us individual problems geared to our respective levels and we had time to work them out while she went around the room, taking answers and giving new problems.

Of course, this meant that I was left solving the problems almost immediately and sitting waiting while Nolly explained to Opiha that if four legionnaires can each defeat four tribesmen then the lowest number of tribesmen that outnumber the four legionnaires is seventeen…

(Well, she literally said thirty-two, but that's the same thing. I swear, base five maths drove me up the wall until I got used to it).

To be absolutely fair to Doreg, he was probably about as bored as I was since he was solving his problems just as quickly. Hunt, who was getting roughly the same level of questions I was, seemed to need every minute and I really didn't want to be too obviously upstaging her. Being 'a bright child' can cover for a lot, but a four-year-old being better at long division than a five-year-old was pushing it.

While it was raining outside, it wasn't a cold rain and despite the bright light I was feeling sleepy. Somewhere between Nolly having to take Nalan's slate to find out exactly he'd managed to calculate that a third of seven hundred came to a whole number and setting him a new problem, my eyes locked on motes of dust visible in the streams of light from the orb on the wall.

They were positively dancing in front of me and I felt myself slipping into the same meditative trance that usually presaged a nap. Although I was getting better about that!

Nolly asked for my answer, I gave it and absently noted down the next problem, eyes still following the motes.

There was something that seemed to hover just outside my reach as I thought about the problem and then made a note of the answer. Fortunately, I didn't have to show working. As far as our tutors were concerned, the results were what mattered. If we'd succeeded by cheating well enough that we didn't get caught then we'd still succeeded.

The answer was there, I thought. Close enough that I could just reach out a-n-d-

The shock went through me like a jolt of lightning. My legs kicked involuntarily and knocked the stool out from under me.

I hit the floor on my side and lay there blinking. What had happened?

The motes were still there, dancing as I breathed.

Even in the shadows under the desk?

Dust motes shouldn't be visible there…. Motes. Motes-motes-motes… yes!

"Little Alina?" Nolly had moved over to look down at me. "What are you doing down there?"

I had enlightened myself! Yes!

"I don't know?" I offered uncertainly. "I fell off my stool."

The tutor folded her arms. "Really. I wouldn't have guessed. And why did you fall off your stool?"

"I…" What to say? "I dreamed I exalted." Actually, that would be more believable than enlightening myself, even if I'd be unprecedentedly young for Terrestrial Exaltation.

"Dreamed, eh?" Nolly leaned over and helped me up. "I take it that you were asleep."

Red-faced I nodded. There was a snicker from Doreg, echoed almost immediately by Nalan and Hunt. Opiha just looked sympathetic

"I see." Nolly gave me a thoughtful look. "How sad that I am boring you with these lessons. I shall have to give you something else to think about. Bend over."

I winced and obeyed. I couldn't see but I knew what was happening - it had happened before just not to me. Nolly removed her shoe and then swatted me sharply across the backside with the flat of it. I yelped at the smarting impact.

"Now sit down again," the tutor told me and picked up my slate, reading off the answer. "I suppose you at least did your work. Copy out times tables up to twenty times twenty."

"Yes teacher," I acknowledged meekly and wiped my slate clean to start that.

My head was pounding and my tender buttocks were going to be on a hard stool for the rest of the lesson, but I had reached out and touched a mote for the first time since my rebirth. It was a small first step, but it was a step in the right direction.