With the storm having receded, the silvery eye of the moon shone clearly down through a break in the clouds, illuminating the Guild grounds with a light sheen. Light from various windows provided additional illumination, casting rectangles of warm, yellow light at odd intervals along the lawns and pathways near the buildings, particularly those housing the magicians and novices. From one of the central exits to the Magician's Quarters, a silent duo emerged into the night, casually avoiding contact with others out wandering the grounds with practiced ease.

Having immediately shielded both she and Takan as soon as the pair had left, Sonea felt none of the chill that some of the winter novices were clearly experiencing. Pairs and trios of brown-robed figures huddled together, shivering and scurrying along the pathways toward the residences and foodhall. A quick hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Sonea's lips as she briefly reminisced on her previous life as a novice. Her robes were the same as theirs, she was nearly as small as they, though several years their senior in age and classes, yet none would ever mistake her for a novice. Gone was her skittish demeanor, her boyish looks and boorish, slum-dweller attitude. Time and trouble had honed her skills as a blademaster would work his finest pieces. No, she was merely a novice in name only. Her heart carried the weight of the guild within it.

Furtively, Sonea stole quick glances at her silent companion as they made their way away from the main part of the guild along a partly tree-covered path. Her destination was too familiar and threatened her with more tears so she contemplated Takan's steady strides and centered mannerisms. In the past few months, he had grieved as surely as she and yet he bore no outside signs of it. Anger kindled in her breast at her weakness, though she scarcely showed that side of her to anyone. If Takan could restrain his sadness and guilt, why couldn't she? But as she had asked herself that many times, the answer had long ago presented itself to her. Takan had respected Akkarin, had perhaps even worshipped and revered him, but Takan had not loved Akkarin nor the opposite. Their bond had been a friendship and a deep one at that, yet the servant and master relationship had prevented the love that equals might share. Her anger fizzled, as it always did at that conclusion, just as they reached the grey building amidst the trees where she had spent many angry months during what now felt like a lifetime ago.

The High Lord's residence was occupied by Lord Balkan who had been elected to the position after the Invasion, but he had wisely elected to keep Takan close as an advisor on the Ichani. Takan lived in the same rooms he had since coming to Kyralia and continued to perform his duties as servant, which kept him cooking and allowed him to bring Sonea along for dinner. She visited him nightly, but because she required an escort at all times, Takan always came to receive her in person at her room. Next they'll likely suggest I have an escort in the bath as well! Couldn't have me draining the laundry servants and running amok about the grounds bedecked solely in towels... Surpressing an ill-timed chuckle, she waited for Takan to enter the residence and ushered herself inside, following close behind.

As always, the interior of Balkan's choosing surprised her greatly. Gone were the heavy pile carpets and plush chairs of the former occupant, replaced by practical objects that served the same function. Now well-lit, Sonea could see the unadorned stone walls that had once held paintings and shelves of books. No longer the ominous den of a lurking beast, it had lost most of its former "charm". Can't have it both ways...she thought, knowing that Akkarin's furnishings would only have set her to tears again. No, it was better this way, she concluded while following Takan to dinner.

Delicious aromas tickled her nostrils before she even made it to the room, but familiar voices ahead alerted her to the fact that they had company for dinner. Something inside of her crumpled at not being able to catch Takan alone, but she steeled her resolve for the second time that night and strode into the room behind the servant. High Lord Balkan and Administrator Osen were seated at one end of the sumptiously laden table. As Sonea entered behind Takan, an extremely forced silence stilled the conversation to a complete halt.

"High Lord, Administrator..." Sonea greeted with a bow to each man before allowing Takan to seat her at the farther end of the table in her usual place. "Good of you to join us for dinner." Swallowing down several comments that she deemed inappropriate, she finally settled on adding, "I trust you are enjoying Takan's exceptional abilities."

"Hello Sonea," began Osen with a gentle smile, followed by a good throat-clearing from Balkan. "Yes, excellent. I never did quite believe Akkarin," his mouth stumbled over the name, but he recovered quickly enough, "When he praised Takan's skills. Should get him to see to our kitchens..."

Sonea's brow furrowed then smoothed at the comment. "All respect intended High Lord but Takan is no ordinary servant." The words came out harsher than she had intended, but she found that she felt not at all sorry for them.

"Obviously not," replied Balkan, sparing Takan a glance where he waited to the side of the room. He would not seat himself until their guests had left. Gaze returning to Sonea, Balkan crossed his hands behind his plate, watching as she helped several courses onto her plate. "Sonea..."

At the sound of her name, Sonea's grip tightened on the ladel in her hand and she paused, utensil mid-sweep from the serving bowl to her plate. Juices threatened to spill from the ladel to the table, but she held the object with expert balance. "Yes, High Lord?" Returning a distant politeness to her tone, she continued serving herself. Slowly.

"Enough of this, Sonea. The King and indeed the Guild grows worried as each day passes," Balkan began again, interjecting gruffly into the thick silence. With a quick glance at Osen, who shrugged imperceptibly, the High Lord added, "I don't think you understand how worried. We have given you the time, time to grieve, time to recover, time to set up your hospital and to resume your classes..." Lifting a wine glass to his lips, he regarded her over his sip of the dark liquid, taking extra care not to spill on his pristine, white robes. "You must at least begin to teach the mind-reading skill." Nothing about the words spoke of a question.

Laying her hands carefully on either side of her plate, Sonea shoved her grief, frustration and anger down into the farthest corner of her self that she could find, exhaling out a single, deep breath. When she finally had the nerve to confront her visitors again, she nodded. "I will give you that..." Pausing at the twin exhales from across the table, she smiled in a way that was neither happy nor kind, "If..."

"If what?" Balkan snapped, but Osen laid a hand on the High Lord's shoulder. "Sonea," he offered her a concilatory smile, "Please, understand our position. The Houses come to us, blaming us for the recent "failure", particularly those who returned to Imardin to find their houses in ruins! The Thieves are taking care of the dwells at the moment, but we fear they might begin to sense the panic in the Inner Circle and..." he paused, clearly at a loss for words, then finished, "They know you and respect you. Sonea, you must give us any aide you can, for the sake of Imardin as a whole. Please." Osen's clear eyes pleaded with her across the table, entreating her to see what they thought she couldn't see.

"So..." she began, allowing a small hint of venom to creep into her voice. "You both are of the mind that because I've been grief-stricken, that I haven't a clue about the current state of Imardin?" Though her tone was low and her voice quiet, she knew they could hear her across the table, saw them both sit back at the dull glare in her dark eyes. "I know exactly the state of Imardin. Better than I should think both of you do, at the moment. I, not you, High Lord and Administrator, am down there with the Healers. I have done the work no other would stoop to. Until now." She knew that she should not speak thus, knew she would regret it later, but for the moment, her heart would not let her stop until she had spoke her complete peace. Continuing, her voice caught strength. "My Lords, I am afraid you are vastly mistaken if you assumed me some delicate flower, crumbling at the first strain of heat or cold. No, you have it wrong indeed. And did you even bother to let me state my condition to helping you further? Or did you just expect... nay, practically demand my cooperation?" Standing from her seat, she regarded the two across the table from her as her fingers dug into the tabletop where she was gripping it hard enough to leave marks.

Both Balkan and Osen were a conflicting display of emotions. Anger, guilt, grief, shame, panic... all of these crossed the faces of the two seated across from Sonea. At last, Osen looked to Balkan, who's mouth was working but no words would come and finally asked, in a small voice, "What can we give you that we have not already, Sonea? We cannot be seen to give you favors, even if you share a...special status in the Guild." His voice, though meek, still held that entreaty of earlier.

"Indeed," spoke the High Lord, eyes narrowing.

Startled by the sudden, singular statement, Sonea smiled weakly, her cheeks coloring light pink. "Privacy," she said, holding up a hand to forstall the response she knew would come, "Only on the Guild grounds. Please... I cannot be a model for the Guild if anyone whom I'm to train thinks they will be giving up total personal freedom. If... if you cannot give me an answer now, I beg you to consider it?" Freeing her hands from the table, she clasped them in front of her and sat down, watching the two most influential magicians in all of Kyralia with hopeful eyes. She thought she caught Takan smile out of the corner of her eye, but when she glanced his way, his features were unreadable.

Rising together, Osen a second after Balkan, the High Lord and Administrator looked down upon Sonea before Balkan excused himself from the room, leaving Osen behind. As he was leaving, he offered Sonea a quick smile in assurance. "We will do what we can, Sonea. You have my promise. Please remember that we are short on all things at the moment, but especially time. I will send for you when we've made a decision." He took a step toward the door before turning to Takan with a much larger smile. "Thank you again for the invitation and the meal, sir, I look forward to it again some time in the future..." and with that he was gone.

Sonea let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding and turned on Takan, "Invitation?" Her eyebrows felt like they wanted to detach themselves from her forehead.

Takan turned to regard her with what she was coming to know as his "thinking look" and shrugged. "They have known we take our dinners together for some time. Balkan especially has been inquiring about an invitation. I feared he would show up unannounced, so I extended him an invitation." A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he moved to clear the recently-vacated places at the table. "I believe you have given them much to consider."

Leaning against the high back of the chair, Sonea tried to find a comfortable position for her head and neck, a way to relieve the growing tightness that constantly plagued her when she was tense. "I understand Takan, I'm sorry. And yes, they have already had much to consider, I merely gave them extra incentive." Glancing up at him, she shook her head. "I have yet to convince them I'm trustworthy, haven't I?" She felt pale in the lamplight, an exposed spectre of her former self.

Balancing both plates, Takan pursed his lips before answering. "It does not look good from their side to have someone actively defy their Guild rules. Even for the sake of saving that which the rules supposedly protect. In time, they will see. How much time..." he shrugged lightly, letting the words drift and stared out toward the kitchen with the dirty dishes.

In the dim light of the lamps, set the way that Takan preferred to take his meals, Sonea realized that he was right. Takan was very often right, in her opinion. Of course, they all needed time but how much time was certainly the question. Thinking back to the incident in her rooms previously in the evening, Sonea couldn't help but think her time was running out faster than the rest. Some nagging suspicion at the back of her mind said that the grains of sand in some hourglass somewhere were quickly falling and she was powerless to stop them. She had no idea what would happen when they all ran out, but it was clear it would hardly be anything good.

Raising a bite of food to her lips for the first time since arriving, she took a moment to savor the sweet undercurrent of papea that Takan was favoring lately in his meals. It complemented the reber meat excellently, considering the meat had been cut into thin slices and served with brasi and crots. The meal seemed especially excellent tonight, but perhaps that had been on account of their guests. While musing over this, Sonea noted Takan's return with an empty plate. Tonight she would have to confront him about the voices. If she didn't, she might loose her nerve and never ask again and she knew she had to ask. Her feelings of dread seemed very much tied to that... somehow.

Watching Takan help himself, she decided she could wait until the desert course, then ask her questions. She'd been waiting months for her grief to lessen and it hadn't. She'd been waiting all evening for her sanity to be tested and it hadn't. Hopefully, he would provide her with more answers than questions. If not, she might have to ask another favor of High Lord Balkan that he definitely would not like.

Perhaps that wouldn't be so bad.