Enlightenment

by NoirGrimoir

After returning from Lightsbridge, determined to start her own business working as an ordinary mage, romance is the last thing on Tris's mind. Unfortunately, her siblings don't seem to understand that. Tris/OC, Daja/OC, Briar/Evvy, more.

2. Chapter 2

Authors Notes: Thank you my two wonderful reviewers, Loud-Little-Thing and sd, I hope you continue with this story! Also, I usually don't apologize for long chapters, but the extra week or two since when I said I'd post the next chapter and now, I fixed some things that needed fixing and much improved it, but made the chapter grow about 2,000 words. O.O So yeah, +17,000 word chapter. Not my longest ever, but it's a doozy. Might take more than one sitting for you guys. Tell me if you'd prefer if I broke it up a little more, yes? I may just do so.

Chapter Two

—-

In the end, Tris came away with her two books feeling almost as if she'd stolen them, Master Nelsin had let them go so cheaply. She hadn't even been allowed to protest; it was a gift, he'd said, welcoming her back to Summersea. Holding the two books in her hand after Master Nelsin had given them back to her, wrapped up in brown paper, she tried not to feel like a charity case and just accept the thoughtful deed without guilt.

So she'd taken them, mentally remarking to herself that this was probably the first time she had ever bought books hoping not to like them, if for no other reason than to prove to Heinz that he wasn't as all-knowing as he seemed to think he was. Then Tris set about making up for all the lost time spent debating with herself in the book store by finishing her errands in record speed, spreading her flyers, catching up with old friends, picking up mage-supplies and the things on Briar's list. Just as the shadows were starting to get long and her feet began to hurt from being on them all day since early morning, she stepped onto Cheeseman Street and gave a friendly wave to the neighbor before passing through the front door of the house, her books and afternoon's shopping tucked in her academic mage-kit, the strap slung across her chest and pouch riding her rip. She didn't even have to send a bit of power down the line of communication between her and her siblings before they were on her.

We're at the back of the house, in the parlor, Daja said in her mind as she shut the door behind her, Sandry's here too, she arrived while you were out.

Strange, I didn't sense her traveling from the castle… Tris thought back, confused, as she confirmed with their bond that yes, indeed Sandry was in the house. While pondering this, Tris showed Daja with her mind that she intended to safely stow away her mage-supplies before she forgot. Their maid knew not to mess with their mage kits, lest she run afoul of something dangerous, but it was just a good habit to put things away. And there were such things as accidents; she'd just as well be sure they weren't as a result of negligence on her part.

You were probably just busy, out doing magic and running around the city, Daja's mind-voice told her easily, but there was an edge to it that Tris found just a little too easy.

Really now, Tris responded, starting to become suspicious as she climbed the stairs of their house and set her bag down inside her room, taking out the books and Briar's things, placing the former on her desk because her shelves were pretty full; she'd have to root around to find a place for them later. The latter she put in Briar's room then stepped down the stairs and walked through the kitchen to get to the parlor.

As soon as her siblings saw her, Sandry sang out, "Welcome home, sister-dear!" as Daja said aloud, "Hey, Tris!"

Such a cheerful greeting immediately put her guard up. Certainly they were always happy to see her—well, usually happy to see her—but this was a bit much.

"There you are, Coppercurls. I thought we might have to send the cavalry out after you, you've been gone all day!" her brother Briar called out, wearing a lopsided grin and sounding a bit more normal than her other two friends. But then he was a former-thief, experienced in misdirection and trickery; given her experience with the young man, Tris just wasn't convinced by his performance.

She walked into the parlor cautiously and frowned down her long nose as she took in the sight before her—Briar was seated at the table in the middle of the intimately-sized room, sipping his special blend of tea, while Sandry and Daja sat across from him. It was a perfectly normal, appropriate setting for her to walk into except for one thing: they were positively brimming with mischief. Not a good sign.

Tris narrowed her storm-grey eyes at them behind her brass spectacles. "What have you three been up to?" she demanded immediately, glaring at her siblings over the rims of her glasses as Chime flew in from her perch on the window sill, her voice ringing out like pure crystal. The little glass dragon crooned at her as she settled on Tris's shoulder and burrowed into her braids of hair. Idly, the weather witch reached a hand up to pet her head and was rewarded with Chime's purr.

"Why do we have to have been up to something?" Daja asked quizzically as she sipped on a cup of what Tris recognized as a new exotic drink she'd been brewing lately called 'coffee'. Her Smith-mage sister was looking so innocent that Tris knew it had to be an act. Those three were always up to something when they got together without their 'sensible' sister around to bludgeon them into behaving, and obviously the three had arranged to be together without her knowing about it, which simply couldn't mean good things for her. Leastwise, that was what Tris's experience told her.

"Well, how about you?" Briar countered. "Gone at least an hour longer than you'd said you'd be yesterday. What were you doing, eh, Tris?"

Tris snuffed with outrage; just the very thought of what had transpired earlier made her mad enough to throw off sparks. "It's hardly my fault my schedule was derailed," she snapped uncharitably. "Some stiff-nosed academic was prowling the book store and thought it would be a novel idea to tell me what I should buy. When I expressed my doubts about his qualifications to do so, he went and made a big deal about it. It's hardly as if I'm trying to have some clandestine meeting behind someone's back like you three obviously are," she accused.

Sandry gasped in righteous anger. "What?" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and striding up straight to Tris. For an instant Tris thought she had gone a bit too far with her accusations, but as Sandry approached she fling up her arms and hugged her shorter sibling around the shoulders as she leaned down, then lead her to the table liking a doting mother.

"My poor sister," she doted sympathetically as for some reason Tris allowed herself to be pulled along and pushed down into a chair. "Come here and have some tea and tell us all about it. We'll get him back for you!" Sandry promised as she poured Tris's favorite tea blend into a fine china cup.

For Tris's part, she was extremely confused by this sudden display of affection. She was being treated like a little child or favorite pet, and not entirely certain she liked it. "Okay…," she said carefully, her brow creased, wondering who had kidnapped Sandry and replaced her with a double. Sandry was—well, usually—kind, but this was just sappy.

What did you two do to her while I was away? Tris thought to her other siblings, but she only received a jaunty Nothing irreversible, from Briar and the mental image of exasperated head shaking from Daja along with the thought, Just don't ask.

Sandry, having heard it all, just glared at them and scoffed at the treatment. That's better, Tris thought to her with a smirk.

"We are not meeting behind your back," Daja denied, then changed the subject before Tris could bring it back up. "So what's this about a stiff-nosed academic?" Daja wondered. Sandry might have been taking Tris's little tiff to be something serious because she'd just been awakened to how badly people had treated their sister in the past, but Daja knew the difference between something that had genuinely hurt her friend and when Tris was just complaining to be complaining. This seemed like it belonged in the latter category. If it had really upset their friend so much, than they'd have felt it through the connection, shielding or not. Tris always had a bit of trouble hiding her temper. The wind might stay calm, the skies blue and the air free of hail or lightning, but she'd still let you know how much you'd made her angry, that was just a fact.

"Yeah, let's hear it. This ought to be good," Briair said with an impish grin as his foster-sister's expense. He knew Tris probably better than even his other two sisters did, and he was with Daja on this one.

And besides, Tris is the best of us at dealing with supposed 'stiff-nosed academics,' Briar thought, I'd like to hear just how thoroughly she mowed this fellow down. It's bound to be entertaining.

Tris, seeing how quickly her siblings were to ignore her suggestion that they were hiding something from her, pushed up her glasses. Definitely up to something, she thought to herself, but decided to ignore it for now.

"It's nothing, really," Tris said dismissively, not so much downplaying the experience as correcting her earlier exaggeration. Compared to some of her other experiences the incident was barely worth mentioning. "I'd rather not go into it."

"Ah, come on Coppercurls, give us a tale," Briar goaded.

"Was he cruel to you, Tris?" Sandry demanded to know with fire in her eyes. "I'll never forgive him if he was, I'll march down there and drag him out to face judgment for hurting my sister."

"Cruel?" Tris repeated, raising an eyebrow at the word. The rest she ignored; as if she needed them to protect her. "Certainly not, just a bit irritating."

"Stop being all suspenseful and just tell us what happened," Daja commanded.

Tris bristled in indignation upon their insistence, but she obliged them anyways, speaking in an offended clip. "I walked into Master Nelsin's bookshop—the one on Leather Street, across from the square there where we always used to sell goods from the temple with Lark and Rosethorn—and he was there with a stack of books, selling them. And he went on and on, talking to Master Nelsin, as if he were trying to show off just how 'knowledgeable' he was."

"Eavesdropping again were we, Tris?" Briar teased.

She turned up her long nose unrepentantly and ignored her foster-brother. "Anyway, then Master Nelsin calls me over to show me some of the books and Heinz—he was introduced as Heinzen-something, but he said to call him Heinz—tries to convince me to take home some soppy romance book," she rolled her eyes, "which was absolutely ridiculous."

Sandry frowned. She liked romances. Daja and Briar just laughed because they knew exactly how Tris felt about them.

Tris continued, "After that, I'm quietly trying to decide what I'm going to purchase and he sticks his neb," using a street-word she'd learned from Briar, "where it was neither wanted, nor needed, and starts describing every one to me. As if I couldn't have made a choice on my own. I held in my temper and listened, and I was almost not hating him when I somewhat jokingly said, 'If I don't like the books, I know who to blame,' and he just snaps and becomes all offended for no good reason."

"That jerk!" Sandry gaped with a splayed hand to her chest, completely forgetting about the tea cup in her other hand.

"Exactly," Tris said definitively and took another drink of her tea as Daja and Briar exchanged looks that weren't flattering to her.

"I sense some exaggeration in your story, sis," Briar warned her. They might call her 'sensible Tris,' and she was more often than not brutally honest, but when she decided to hate someone she tended to blow every little flaw of their's into epic proportions.

"That's absolutely how it went, no exaggeration," Tris assured her foster brother with a curt nod for herself. "And he had the nerve to tease me a bit as well and make some bet with me. You know I hate to be teased. He talked down to me like I was some child or something who didn't know what they were talking about." From her shoulder, Chime crooned her support to Tris, even though she hadn't even been there. Tris appreciated the glass dragon's encouragement anyway, and demonstrated it by rubbing the ridge above her eyes. It was her favorite place to be petted.

"Ouch," Daja said. Tris could be a bit snippy, but she generally didn't hate people for no good reason either, and this situation sounded all too familiar to her—people talking down to them because they were young. They took one glance at their youth and assumed they didn't know what they were talking about, never mind that they'd each been at their crafts since they were kids, and had nearly ten years experience—as much or more than most adults. They weren't just kids, they were veterans. It was getting a bit better, now that they were older and didn't seem quite so out of place, but it was still hard to get the recognition and acceptance they'd earned through hard work.

"Was he some crotchety old geezer?" Daja asked. The fellow certainly sounded like it if Tris was to be believed.

Tris took another drink of her tea. "Not really," she said, thinking back. "He looked about twenty-eight, twenty-nine, if I'm anyone to guess. He did have an old-man mentality, though. As if he were lecturing me." She hated being lectured to, especially by people who weren't qualified to have an opinion. Although Heinz had actually seemed to know his stuff; he just spouted it where it wasn't required.

"Well, at least he wasn't a mage," Sandry said, patting Tris's hand sympathetically while nodding.

Tris squirmed slightly in her seat. "He was a mage, actually—of course, just my luck. But he didn't mention it, surprisingly, and neither of us used surnames; I only knew because I saw his magic."

"Maybe he doesn't know he has it?" Briar pointed out.

Tris frowned, thinking. Oh Gods, wouldn't it be terrible if I had to teach him? One teacher older than me is enough, thank you all the same. I'd rather have someone who respects me from day one, to whom I don't have to prove I'm worth listening to. Children are much better, they don't have the misconceptions adults do, their minds are open.

"He mentioned having an apprentice," she suddenly remembered, feeling relieved. If he had an apprentice, than he must know or how could he teach it?

Her foster brother wasn't convinced. He knew how mages, especially the once who thought they were 'educated' mages, acted; they made it their business to make sure everyone around them knew their profession. Mages were a vain lot. "Maybe it wasn't a mage apprentice, maybe it for was some other craft. Did you hear him say what it was in particular?"

"No, now that I think of it, I just assumed," Tris conceded. Pausing for a second, she thought nervously, wondering if maybe Briar was right and she'd just passed over a mage who didn't know his power, but then she replayed their interaction in her mind and had to shake her head.

"Either way, the magic was too bright and organized," she told her brother. "It's very unlikely he doesn't know he's a mage; there was deliberate maintenance of his power. And he sounded like he was educated at a university; probably not Lightsbridge because he'd have recognized me—he couldn't have graduated that long ago, considering his age and the average graduation age—but maybe Truthston or one of the universities in Capchen. They check for magic there, even if he didn't go to one to learn it to begin with. He'd have found out then, even if it was ambient. They've been quite thorough with catching it since Niko published that paper about us."

"Well, if you say so, I believe you. You're the best of us at seeing magic," Daja admitted with a shrug.

"Okay, fine, but what was this about a bet earlier?" Briar asked curiously. Hey, he was born on the streets, bets were his bread and butter. He could hardly resist a gamble, much less hearing about an interesting one.

Tris snorted. She didn't approve of bets in general, and felt the same about this one in particular. "If I didn't like my books, he'd pay to replace them," she explained to Briar. "And if I liked them he got to choose one for me to read, though he'd pay for it. Ridiculous, of course. Who in their right mind would use money that way? It's a waste."

"That is odd," Sandry commented, a stumped look on her face.

Suddenly Briar laughed. His sisters all turned to look at him as if he'd lost his mind. After a moment he regained his composure and said, "Okay, Tris, I see what's going on and you've got this all wrong—this so called 'horrible person' was just flirting with you. Like madly flirting."

Tris's eyebrows snapped together and she huffed, hackles rising like an offended cat. How could Briar joke about something like that? "Briar, don't insult me," she snapped. "I might not get flirted with, but I've seen you do it often enough—I know what flirting looks like and he wasn't doing it, least of all with me. Who would flirt with me?"

Briar rolled his eyes as his co-conspirators in the plan-to-find-Tris-a-lover scheme seemed to consider his alternative explanation. "Come on Coppercurls, don't sell yourself short. He probably saw you sneaking peaks at him and thought you were interested, then he heard you rattling on about books and thought, 'ooh, a smart girl' and then just wanted to show off for you. I mean, not everyone can be as smooth as me, but then you are a tough one to get, Tris."

Tris glared. "Briar."

"What?" the green mage asked innocently with raised eyebrows.

"He wasn't flirting," she insisted.

Briar frowned at the absolute certainty in her voice. "Well, how do you know?"

"I just know, okay?" the lightning mage snapped spitefully, her mouth in a taught line. She shook her head. "But it doesn't matter, I just hope I don't run into him again. Once was enough."

"Alright, if you say so," Briar gave up with a frown, but he still held on to the believe that Tris had this guy all wrong. He knew how a lad's head worked, and teasing was one of the sure signs to tell when a man was interested, if not as a lover than at least as a friend. Hmm, maybe the fellow was worth looking into? "What did you say this mage-that-you-hate's name was again?" he asked her with casual easiness as if he was just curious and not in the least up to something.

"He just said to call him Heinz," Tris shrugged, wishing they'd just change the subject. "His full name was longish, and I was unfamiliar with it so it's hard to remember." Was it Heinzrich? Or Heinzerek? Neither of those sounds quite right. "And I didn't hear his surname or mage name," she said dismissively, then eyed her three siblings with suspicion "But enough of that. What were you three talking about before I walked in?"

Said siblings glanced at each other and then immediately looked back at Tris, saying in unison, "The recent increase of the exchange rate of Lairanese silver."

Tris was unconvinced.

—-

An hour more of visiting, some spell-work and potion preparation, dinner, and then some meditation time later, found Tris in her room, reading by candlelight before bedtime. She was already dressed in nightclothes and reading in bed by her nightstand with one book in her hand and the other on the table next to her bed.

She'd opened up Tales of the Painted Desert, the book containing the myths of a native tribe across the ocean in the new world, and found herself completely entranced. It was every bit as good as Heinz had promised her, but she still chose to believe it was her own good taste in picking it up to start with that was really at work here. She refused to believe that he just had some way of pegging her into a category and knowing what she would like. It was a matter of pride at this point.

Some time later, having finished the first few myths and their commentaries, she managed to temporarily set aside that book to peruse Meraissa Thistle's Essays on Sovereignty and Government, hoping against all hope that they weren't in the least bit entertaining, but once again she'd found herself having difficulty putting it down.

The authoress went through the histories of various governments and monarchs of different countries in great depth and with complete clarity, some of those she focused on being so ancient Tris had barely heard of them. The voice of her writing was seeped in sarcasm and humor, making light-hearted fun at the faults in various ways of governing a country and the blunders of their sovereigns. The foreword, which was written after the book's first publication by a well-known historian, explained Thistle's works to be pioneering, as the authoress was writing in a time when it was a death-sentence to publish anything that made one's monarch look bad, and the woman had gotten around that by making the read so clever, witty and interesting that those who were being spoken about took it more as a joke while the learned-set found it's information to be startling and insightful.

Tris rather thought she liked this Meraissa Thistle.

She was, however, very embarrassed to find that Heinz had gotten her two-for-two, though she told herself that Master Nelsin had recommended it first even if the book had come directly from the foreigner's possession before that.

No matter, she told herself as she marked her place and closed the book. She'd probably never see him again anyway.

And with that thought, she blew out the candle and went to bed.

—-

The next morning Tris stayed in to accept any house calls by people responding to her fliers. That very day she was ecstatic to receive a number of customers looking to purchase charms, potions and discuss prices for custom spell work. She gave each patron special attention, addressing them in a professional, business-like manner and receiving a great deal of patronage because of that. She was almost giddy how much she made that very day alone. Mage-work was even more profitable than she'd thought, not to mention that all of these people were coming to know her as the corner-witch who performed normal, if exceptionally good, magic and wasn't in the least bit to be feared, unless one happened to prick her temper. In which case one probably deserved whatever they had coming. Finally the stigma of being Trisana Chandler, mage of extraordinary abilities from a young age and a person to be resented and feared, might begin to lift from her reputation.

After a quick luncheon shared with Daja and Briar, who had received customers of their own and worked on various projects, Tris realized that she'd done so well, selling some of her more popular charms, tonics and potions, that she needed to make more and she was out of ingredients for them.

Readying herself for a shopping trip, Tris thought to her two housemates, I'm taking a quick trip to the specialty mage-shop a few streets away, I need some more raw materials for spells and such.

From Daja, she caught a vision of the black woman working at her forge molten brass glowing from a crucible as she prepared to lever the liquid metal into a plaster mold. The smith-mage paused in her work to think back to her friend, her mental voice teasing, Okay, don't run into anymore mages on this trip, will you? I don't know if my ears can take anymore of your complaining, if you do.

Tris refused to dignify that statement with a response.

Hey, she heard from Briar as she received a vision of him trying to wire a cedar shakkan into the informal upright-style. She said 'trying' because he was having to fend off Chime, who kept trying to bat playfully at his hands with a glass claw every time he began to make a winding motion around the miniature tree's branches with the wire. Take this thing with you, I can't get any work done!

Fine, Tris mentally sighed, as if the request was such a trial for her. In actuality she'd planned on it anyway, and seeing the glass dragon thoroughly annoying her brother had been a treat.

The redhead put her fingers in her mouth and blew a piercing whistle that could be heard all the way upstairs in Briar's room. "Chime, I'm going out!" she called, making as if to leave.

From upstairs she heard the crystalline notes of her exotic friend as the little dragon came winging downstairs frantically, as if to say, "Wait, don't leave without me!"

The glass creature landed on Tris's shoulder as the redhead was just about to reach for the door. Burrowing into Tris's braids, the dragon gave an indignant squawk like shattering glass and clicked her beak-like muzzle, as if to scold her mistress for acting as if she might have left to have fun in town without taking Chime. The redhead smiled and rubbed Chime's eye ridges, reassuring her that Tris had just been kidding.

Exiting number 6 Cheeseman Street, Tris's red-gold eyelashes fluttered closed as she enjoyed the sun on her face as her breezes played at the fabric of her skirts and tugged at her cascade of braids. Pieces of conversation wafted passed her ears and a kaleidoscope of colors danced across her vision. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she caught the faintest scent of moist air amongst the usual city smells.

I guess the nice weather we've been having is about to come to an end, Tris thought. They'd had a cool summer, thus far. Sunny and warm, but not uncomfortable. Her weather-witch senses were telling her that the monsoon season was about to start, bring hot, muggy weather and rainstorms along with it.

She smiled. Tris loved the rain.

I'll check the area for storm-systems when I get back, she promised herself and set off down the street with a basket in hand, Chime arcing her graceful neck to look at everything as they passed, trilling a commentary of chinks and chimes whenever they came upon something vaguely interesting.

Tris wasn't even a block away from her house when she ran into something unexpected. Or rather someone unexpected. Luckily, it wasn't Heinz.

"Mistress Mage! Good afternoon, it's good to see you again!" Calyra, the girl from the printing house, called out excitedly, waving spastically to Tris from across the road. The lightning-mage had the sudden, creeping desire to duck behind a nearby horse, but suppressed it and instead put on her best public smile, which admittedly wasn't very good but at least she'd tried. The blond cut through the traffic of bodies, carts and horses, dodging a trampling to approach the weather-witch, who had to stop herself from flinching every time the student-mage narrowly escaped death.

Chime made an inquiring sound and tilted her head at the girl as she made her way through the crowd.

"I met her yesterday when I was spelling the Printing House," Tris whispered in explanation to her companion who rode on her shoulder. "She's a student paper-mage."

Chime made a sound in response, for all the world as if she'd understood.

Finally the girl came to a stop on Tris's side of the street within easy conversing distance, sighing in relief at her survival. The redhead scowled at her, pushing her glasses further up on her long, formidable nose. "You realize you could have gotten yourself killed, pulling a stunt like that," Tris scolded as her heart-rate began to calm.

"I didn't want you to get away," Calyra defended herself with a shrug. Tris wondered if people often ran away from her when she called out to them from across a street.

Chime made a skeptical chink noise, and the girl gasped, noticing the magical creature for the first time.

"Is, is that…?" The girl trailed dumbly, her blue eyes wide as Chime moved from her perching position behind Tris's hair, creeping out along her shoulder. The creature struck a careless pose that made the sunlight fall on her just-so, illuminating the little dragon from within as the lightning inside her glittered.

"A glass dragon? Yes. It is," Tris said dryly. "Or she is, rather." The creature chimed in Tris's ear with agreement.

Calyra continued to look upon Chime with wonder, her hands wrapped around each other, as if she wanted to reach out and touch her but didn't quite dare.

And another admirer is born, Tris thought wryly. "You want to pet her?" Tris asked when it became obvious that if she didn't offer the girl would probably still be staring at Chime an hour from now, having never spoken another word to Tris.

The student mage's eyes lit up, eyeing Chime with longing. "Oh, could I? She'd let me?"

Tris chuckled as she gathered the dragon from her shoulder to hold out for Calyra to handle. "Let you? Once you start, she'd probably bite you if you stopped."

Chime gave an annoyed whistle as if to say she wouldn't do anything like that, but the dragon forgot all about it as Tris demonstrated how to rub between her eye ridges, causing her to hum with pleasure, making occasional crooning noises and rubbing her head against Tris's hand affectionately. Calyra was enchanted.

After a few moments, the mage said, "Here, your turn," and rather unceremoniously dumped the glass animal in Calyra's arms. Girl and dragon stared at each other, but within an instant Calyra had worked up the courage to follow Tris's example and Chime launched into her thrumming, echoing purr without hesitation. Calyra giggled.

"What's her name?" Calyra asked as she watched with delight as Chime situated herself on the student mage's shoulder and went about her version of preening, "Where'd she come from? Are there more?"

"Her name is Chime, she was created by chance when an ambient glass- and lightning-mage had a magical accident, and as far as I know she's the only one," Tris answered.

Calyra treated this response with awe and told Chime, "Ah! You're such a pretty, pretty thing. I want one…," she said mournfully. After this her words descended into barely understandable baby-talk as she told Chime how wonderful she was. Chime just tilted her head at Calyra inquiringly and crooned, which set the girl off into a fit of giggles.

Tris didn't mind letting Chime have all the attention, but after a few moments of being ignored she grew impatient and sighed, drawling, "Did you have something to say to me, or did you just stop me to try and seduce my glass dragon away from me with compliments?"

The girl stopped petting Chime, turning beet-red as she let out a self-deprecating cough of embarrassment. The glass dragon glided from the girls shoulder to alight back onto Tris's, making a happy sound like a tinkling wind chime in the breeze.

Calyra gave an apologetic smile and bowed her head, pressing her hands together and holding them in front of her at eye level. It was a surprising gesture to Tris, who knew it to be one of humility and pleading forgiveness in some foreign countries, but not anywhere Calyra was likely to hail from, with her features. "I'm sorry, Mistress mage—ah, what was your name again? Sorry!"

"It's Tris," the redhead said, determined not to mention her last name. Calyra was a mage-student, and an ambient one at that. It was unlikely she hadn't at least heard of her exploits. Tris wasn't sure if she approved of this enthusiastic, flaky girl, but she'd like to keep their interaction free of the scorn she'd received from others in the past, if nothing else.

Calyra nodded, saying, "Right, Mistress Tris."

"No, just Tris," she corrected the girl with a frustrated sigh. Was it really so difficult to just say 'Tris' when speaking informally? Honestly, people everywhere seemed to find it impossible not to tag on some honorific or use her full first name at least.

"Alright, just Tris then," the said with a shrug and a smile. "I wanted to tell you if I saw you that Printmaster Ockley was very impressed with your spells on the building," the girl informed her warmly. "Last night someone knocked over an oil lamp and it burned all night, but this morning the wood was barely even singed. Those were some fireproofing spells!"

"Glad to have been of service. I'd hate for something to have happened to the printing house," Tris said in her best appreciative-but-aloof merchant's voice. Secretly she was very touched by the praise and happy her spells were able to combat a possible very bad situation. And she'd really liked the printing house when she'd visited, with it's passionate craftspeople, pleasant bustle and the comforting smells of ink and paper. The thought of it burning down was a sad one.

"Oh, yes," Calyra agreed with a hasty nod before making a pout face. "Though honestly I'd have liked the break," she confided. "Printmaster Ockley is pushing me through an accelerated apprenticeship because my master isn't sure how long we're going to stay here, and the schedule is running me ragged!" She sighed, then brightened, "but what are you doing right now? It's my midday meal hour, do you want to find a stand and eat together? It's really great, being able to talk with someone about my mage-training! We've only been here for a few weeks and I haven't had the time to make friends outside the printing house, I'm dying for conversation!"

Chime, sensing the excitement, gave a few enthusiastic trills in favor of this idea, but Tris had to decline the sudden invitation. She'd already eaten midday and wasn't hungry again yet, and even if she had been, the lingering memories of boys making oink noises at her took her appetite away. Tris was surprised though, and grateful. Young people weren't always so keen on getting to know her, not mean exactly, but they usually had other friends they preferred to hang around.

"Sorry, but I've already eaten, and I really just came out to get some supplies," she answered. Tris intended to get more work done, making charms and potions, once she returned home, so she'd prefer to get that shopping done sooner rather than later.

The resulting expression of disappointment on Calyra's face tugged at her heart and Tris found herself remembering what it had been like growing up with few friends. Chime made some unhappy ringing sounds and nibbled at Tris's ear with her beak-like snout. Well, what can I say to that? Tris thought wryly.

"—but I'll sit with you somewhere while you eat. I'm not in a hurry," the weather-witch amended, trying not sigh. There goes my afternoon, she thought.

Calyra smiled and Tris was immediately tugged along behind the taller girl towards a stall not too far away. I'm becoming too nice, Tris told herself as she internally groaned. No one is going to respect me anymore, if I keep this up. I wonder if I'll ever make it to the Mage-supplies shop?

A few minutes later, they were sitting on a bench near a public fountain, Calyra speaking in between wolfing down her recently bought food, which Chime kept inching towards curiously while simultaneously pretending to have no interest. Tris commented intermittently as she learned more than she really ever cared to know about Calyra. It wasn't exactly uninteresting, though.

"Why do you refer to your teacher as 'master'?" Tris asked as she shot a disapproving glare at Chime, who was craning his head towards Calyra's midday. "When I was a student I simply called them my teacher, or said their name—and don't let Chime have any of that, she can't digest most organic food."

"Really? What does she eat then?" Calyra asked as she pulled her food away from Chime who shot an annoyed look at Tris for interfering.

"A mixture of sand, natron and seashells, mostly. Also antimony and magnesium and ingredients for coloring glass," Tris answered as she scooped up Chime so that she couldn't make another go at Calyra's food. The redhead reached into her mage's kit and pulled out a small cone of said minerals for just such an occasion. "Here, Chime, eat this and leave Calyra alone, she has to get back to the printing house soon and she doesn't need to fend you off while she tries to eat her meal."

She pour some of the cone's contents on the bench and reluctantly Chime wandered over to it and daintily began to nibble at the pile with only a longing glance or two back at the cooked and seasoned cubes of meat on a skewer that Calyra was chewing on. The student mage watched for a moment in awe before Tris piped up, "Calyra, the question—answer it, if you please?"

"Oh, right," Calyra said. "Well, I come from a family of Carpenter mages in Olart. Even everyone who wasn't a mage was a carpenter, so I'm just used to the teacher being a craft-master, you know?" She smiled wryly. "No one really knew what to do with me back then—I didn't even know what to do with me—so I was apprenticed to my Aunt Yizbeth with my other cousins, witling buttons and learning elementary carpentry, but I wasn't very good at it. And all my brothers, every single one, was a Carpenter mage. I felt so left out. It was such a relief when my Master found that I was a paper-mage."

"And how did that come about, meeting your Teacher?" Tris asked interestedly, recalling her own experience at Stone Circle Temple when Niko first saw her magic after her anger had summoned lightning to strike a tree outside. She'd been so lucky Niko had been there on that day so precisely. If he hadn't been her life would be so much different now, assuming she hadn't killed herself in a magical accident. "And how'd he find out you were a mage, does he see magic?" she wondered. That was how she'd discovered it in various people in the past; but seeing magic was a rare gift.

"See? Magic? No, nothing like that," Calyra answered, apparently finding the concept of 'seeing' magic a strange one. "My family was having a problem with the former owner of our building. My grandfather had signed a contract for it a year before, and then the old owner's son showed up, saying the contract was invalid. He'd got into debt gambling, and wanted back-payments on the building we'd 'stolen' and ownership of it so he could sell it again to pay off what he owed." she said disgustedly. "My grandfather hired my master to examine our documents and see if they were authentic—you know, make sure it was drawn up when we said it was, that the signatures were actually signed by the people who's names were there, and not faked.

"So I was being nosey and peeking into the study," she continued, "where my grandfather was getting the contract out of our safe and spreading it out on the big desk so my master could look at it. There were a bunch of books in the way and my master picked them up to put them somewhere else but there was no where else, unless he wanted to put them on the floor." Calyra shrugged. "My grandfather wouldn't have cared, but my master would have had a panic attack if he ever saw someone leave a book on the floor, he's weird like that," she confided and Tris smirked at the image of a grown man freaking out over a book on the floor.

"Anyway," the paper-mage said, "he saw me spying and called me over to hand the books off to. I took them from him and he gave me a weird look—he'd just felt how the books reacted to me. I didn't really notice, though, once pages have words on them they aren't so interested in me, not like they are with my master. Books always feel so fusty and arrogant. They've got things to say and they don't really care what you think or want from them. And they do everything in their own time. My master says I'm just impatient."

"I see," Tris said, fascinated. Sandry described different types of thread that way, each type—silk, cotton, wool—having it's own temperament. Daja did too, with iron being solid and stubborn, and gold being friendly and excitable. To Briar each of his shakkans had it's own personality. Tris felt the natural world in a similar way as well, her breezes being a playful lot, ready to tug at skirts or fill sails.

Calyra's eyes widened. "You do?" she asked hopefully. "Whenever I tell people that they look at me like I'm crazy."

Realizing she'd slipped up, Tris hastened to say, "I have, ah, experience, with ambient mages," which was true, as far as things went. She wanted Calyra to think she was just an ordinary academic mage, not the infamous Trisana Chandler, destroyer of pirate fleets at the ripe old age of twelve.

Chime made an incredulous noise at this remark, halfway finished with her meal, and Tris gave her a sharp look and thought shush, you, don't give me away, at her. Chime pretended not to see it and kept nibbling her glass makings.

The paper mage however seemed to accept this. "Oh!" she said, appeased, and then went on with her story. "Well, after he felt the regular old books react to me, he took them back and then handed me one of his books—that was the only time he ever let me hold it, it's this book bound in weird white leather that has some kind of magic in it—and I nearly dropped it. It felt really, I don't know, heavy, like it held the weight of the ages inside, and it vibrated. I think I turned green, but I don't remember because I nearly passed out, my Master had to take it back from me right quick." Calyra shrugged. "After that the rest is history, I've been traveling with my Master ever since."

"Interesting," she said, finding herself grow curious about that white book her teacher had given her to hold. By the way Calyra had talked about it, the girl didn't seem to know much, however, so there didn't seem any point asking. "Do you travel a lot with your master, then?" Tris asked instead.

"Oh yes, my master is always traveling," Calyra answered after swallowing the last bite of meat from her skewer. Chime eyed the stick mournfully. The Paper mage squinted her eyes in thought for a moment before adding, "Now that I think about it, I don't believe we've been in the same place for more than a season since he found my magic."

Tris raised an eyebrow. Traveling so much didn't seem conducive to a proper education. Briar and Rosethorn managed with Evvy, though, Tris realized, and now she's one of the best stone mages Winding Circle has, though she still has a lot to learn. I managed with Glaki, too, and now she's happy at the temple school. Still, it wasn't easy.

"That must be difficult," Tris said, reflecting on her years as a child being shunted from place to place, never really having one she could call home. It had been even worse in her case because none of her families had wanted her and they made no effort to hide that. She hadn't had any friends, either.

"Sometimes it's a little lonely, or I get homesick, but I'm used to it by now," Calyra shrugged. "I always make a friend or two, and there's my master, as well. And I get lots of letters from my family, I can even feel them in the paper. And I've noticed that if he thinks I'm getting sulky then my master gives me more stuff to do and then I'm too busy to even remember to be sad." She gave Tris a wry smile.

Tris nodded approval upon hearing this. Calyra's mage-master sounded like her own teachers in that respect. Some students weren't so lucky, to have teachers who cared for their physical and emotion wellbeing beyond the bare minimum.

"What's your master do, exactly, to need to travel so much, anyway?" Tris wondered, her curiosity growing.

"Well, lots of things," Calyra said after taking a quick drink from a cup of juice she'd purchased. "My master's magic is a little different then mine, his is with books and written or drawn things, usually on paper, but sometime on other things. There's not much to do with writing or books that he can't do. He does a lot of research for people, translates books and scrolls, and identifies counterfeit documents for the authorities and private parties, like he did for my grandfather. He authenticates ancient texts, too, and writes novels and essays—that sort of thing. Sometimes he even decrypts written codes!"

Calyra continued, eyes bright, "Right now he's trying to restore this big old codex for a temple. Half the pages are unreadable from fire damage and aging. I guess part of the temple burned down at some point with the book in it, but it's irreplaceable so they've kept it all this time, even damaged as it is. When I come home in the afternoons lately, I always find him bent over this huge magnifying glass, using teeny pairs of tweezers to pick up little specks of parchment and fit each piece together like a jigsaw puzzle, using magic to fuse them back together, page by page. And the tome is over a thousand pages long. He says he'll start teaching me to do it soon," she grinned with excitement.

Chime let out a few crystalline sounds, reacting to Calyra's happiness, having finished her meal. Tris smirked as she thought, Well, Calyra might complain about her teacher's methods but she obviously respects him if that worshipping look in her eye counts for anything.

Calyra let her wide smile subside into an ordinary friendly one. "But anyways, I guess he could do that all in one place if he wanted to. And he could always become a librarian or a historian for one of these rich people." She shrugged, frowning slightly in realization. "I don't know, I suppose he just likes to travel."

"I know some people like that," Tris remarked with a sigh, leaning back to look up at the clouds. Her teacher Niko was one such wandering spirit. When she'd first been found by him and taken to Winding Circle, the question had been asked about whether Niko was a dedicate. The questioned person had laughed and replied that Niko wasn't a dedicate but a mage, as shiftless as the wind, and nothing could tie him down. This had proved true over the years, even thought he'd put in a great effort to be there to teach her as often as possible. Even now he was away in Karang and not due back for a week or two at the least.

Not me, Tris thought, I like having a home I can go back to every evening that I can call my own. Well, mine and my sibs.

All this talk of teachers was making her recall her own years as a student, all the things Niko, Lark, Rosethorn, Frostpine and Crane had done for her. Not everyone was like them, she knew. She couldn't thank them enough and Tris doubted she'd ever be able to repay them, not in a million years.

Well, one day I'll have to do the same for someone else, Tris thought to herself.

At this moment Chime let out a belch and glowing orange fire blossomed from her snout. Calyra gasped at the unexpected spectacle and moments later a citrine flame of glass dropped into Tris's waiting hand, still hot.

"Ah! It's so pretty! Wow!" Calyra exclaimed as she looked at the shimmering bit of glass.

"Here," Tris offered, drawing the rest of the heat out of it with her magic so it would be safe to touch.

"Oh, I couldn't! Don't you want it?"

Tris pulled out a cobalt blue flame on a silver chain that Keth had made for her years ago, showing it to her. "I have tons of them, she leave them everywhere she goes, just about."

After marveling at the necklace, Calyra was still reluctant to accept the orange flame even though she so obviously adored it. Finally Tris just pressed it into her hand and refused to take it back. The glass dragon chimed like her namesake and landed on Calyra's shoulder, assuring her it was alright to accept the gift. Looking at the little globule of orange glass, Calyra said, "Hey, I'll make you something!"

Reaching into the bag that she'd been carrying with her—what Tris assumed to be her mage-kit—Calyra pulled out a sheaf of the most beautiful paper Tris had ever seen, large, crisp and perfectly square with marbled patterns in bright colors. They also glowed faintly silver in Tris's sight with magic. Tris's eyebrows raised as she eyed a sheet of blue, striped with swirls of gold.

Calyra grinned at her companion's interest. "I made this paper myself," she said. "It rejects any creases I don't make on purpose, and it won't burn, rip, soil, warp, run or degrade if it gets wet. It's pretty much indestructible," she stated proudly with a nod at her own words.

Tris was impressed. Calyra's paper had as many safeguards on it that Sandry's clothes did. "What about the marbling pattern? It's beautiful."

"Oh, that," she shrugged. "It's pretty easy, actually. You get a tray of water and add a special kind of ink that floats on the surface. Then you make designs in it and lay the paper on top and it absorbs the paint. It's fun, too, though I can't make the ink do anything really impressive. So far I haven't shown much ability in manipulating it, not like my master. I don't think I ever will, but my master says being negative will only obstruct the development of my talents."

"He's right, you know," Tris confirmed. Niko had a similar philosophy and it might have been one of the reasons why she and her siblings abilities were so broad and powerful: because they hadn't known that that shouldn't have been able to do something, it had made it possible for them to do it. Magic was about discipline in one's craft, but also about confidence in one's self.

Calyra made a dubious expression but didn't argue with her. Instead she set about making creases in a large piece of paper of the top of the stack—the very same Tris had been eyeing—her movements deft, quick and precise. Chime watched on, her head tilted with interest as Calyra's hands flew, folding and unfolding the paper. Tris could hear her breathing in meditation rhythm, though her magic stayed neatly inside of her, not escaping from her skin. Calyra might still be a student, but she had a firm foundation, Tris realized with approval. Probably all she needed was practice and instruction in the advanced areas of her craft.

As Tris watched, the folded shapes in the paper began to take on the form of a splayed wing. Another joined it, and then a sharp, knobby head was added with a graceful neck, a long tail and finally the talons. When it was finished, the figure was an intricate and delicate paper miniature of Chime caught in flight, with a marbled pattern of gold, blue and white, the paper dragon much smaller than the large square sheet it had started out as.

Chime eyed her smaller, paper twin, purring a hum like vibrating crystal as she examined from all sides, creeping in closer.

Calyra held it out, balanced upright on her hand as Tris looked at it with appreciation and awe. The paper mage grinned and made a few flicking motions with her finger on the other hand, and a spark of her magic leapt to the dragon and it took to the air, jerkily flapping on a breeze to land in Tris's hand where the magic left it and the dragon lay still.

"Sorry it doesn't do anything on its own," Calyra said apologetically. "I'm not very good at that yet, but at least it shouldn't get damaged without a certain degree of effort."

"Thank you, it's wonderful," Tris said honestly, looking over her gift with delight. It was beautiful. She loved crafts that made pretty things out of something as common as iron or thread or paper. She was jealous of that power, magic or no. Tris had always wished her abilities ran to something of that nature other than what she had.

But if wishes were fishes there'd be no room in the ocean for water, Tris thought with a wry smirk. For whatever reason, the quote had been in Rosethorn's voice.

"Now, if you think this is impressive," Calyra said, "once in Jihan—it's this city in the desert between Yanjing and Chammur—my master and I got caught in a siege of the city by this tribe of desert raiders, and so we were stuck inside without a way to contact the people we were traveling with. So my master made this huge paper eagle, like ten times as big as that dragon, and write a letter on it, explaining what is gong on. And then the paper eagle flies off all on it's own to find the addressee as if it were a homing pigeon or something, and the caravan boss actually got it! And then on top of that, she wrote a return letter on the back of the paper, and it folded itself up and flew back to us. It was amazing."

"Impressive," Tris granted her, imagining the scenario. It seemed paper-folding had more applications than just making a pretty figurine. She was intrigued.

A book mage, Tris thought, rethinking over this concept and all the things that seemed to entail. It would be fascinating to meet one. She always liked to hear about new forms of ambient magic, her own experiences having thrown her in with a lot of obscure variations thereof. She had never had the opportunity to hear much about this particular sort of magic.

Other people might think working with books and paper sounded tedious, fusty and unexciting, but it sounded like quite an interesting field of study to her. She felt a bit envious. Not only could a book mage be surrounded by books all day, but they apparently earned quite a good living, if all those jobs Calyra listed were anything to go by.

I'll bet no one ever asks them to do war magic, either, Tris thought wryly.

"I've never met a book mage before, or really heard much about them. They're rare, I suppose," she said, pushing her spectacles up her nose. Probably not as rare as lightning mages, though. I can't imagine anyone dying from handling a book, she thought ironically.

"Yes, I guess there aren't many of them, are there?" Calyra said as if just realizing this fact. "The only other book mages I've met besides my master are Dedicate Beech at the Crescent Temple in Canaal and my Master's teacher, Master Oakgall, at Lightsbridge, although I think my Master mentioned there being someone in Yanjing he met once who had it. They invented paper in Yanjing, you know. Papercraft, too. I'd like to go there one day and study with masters…." She made a wistful expression before sighing and shaking her head, "But I'm studying with someone who studied under them, so it's the next best thing. And who knows? Maybe I'll get to travel there with my master."

Tris's eyes widened slightly at the mention of Master Oakgall, and now she asked, "Your Master's teacher was Master Oakgall?"

Calyra blinked at her, surprised by the reaction. "Oh yes, for—eleven years was it? Not sure exactly. Anyways, I met Master Oakgall a time or two." She frowned. "I don't know how my master survived. He's a grouchy old man who has to have everything just so, but they get on well so I suppose he's different when you get to know him."

That agreed with Tris's approximation of the man. She wondered what kind of person Calyra's teacher was to get inside the old mage's shell. "I've met a book mage after all then," Tris confided. "Master Oakgall was the chief librarian, historian and curator for Lightsbridge when I was going there, and presumably he still is. What did you say your Master's name was?"

Calyra raised an eyebrow. "Oh, didn't I say? It's Master Lampblack."

Lampblack. That sounded very familiar, Tris realized, and after another moment's pondering the name, she realized that was because she'd heard it mentioned in conjunction with Master Oakgall's, most notably a few times by her own teachers, though beyond that she couldn't remember much else except that Lampblack, like Oakgall, was considered by many to be a Great Mage, much like her own teachers and to an extent even her siblings and herself. Tris didn't think she was wise enough to be considered as such, but she supposed her abilities qualified her in others' eyes. It was hard to argue with the power of a hurricane wind she'd just tied up into her braid like a ribbon. If people wanted to label her a Great Mage, it was tough to dissuade them.

At Tris's thoughtful look, Calyra asked, "Do you want to meet him?" which piqued Tris's interest but then Calyra made a face, seeming to have changed her mind, "Oh, but he was on errands today, he's probably not at the house right now." She suddenly frowned, "He better have brought his cane. He didn't yesterday. I'm not a nurse maid, I shouldn't have to scold an adult to take care of himself!"

Chime gave a ting! of agreement and Calyra chuckled, rubbing her between the eye ridges as Tris smirked. She sounded like Briar did when he was complaining to his siblings about the way Rosethorn pushed herself even after living through a stroke that had almost killed her. Had killed her, actually.

Calyra eyed the sun in the sky and gasped, "Oh no! I'm going to be late! Printmaster Ockley will kill me, and then after that Master Lampblack will kill me even deader!" She leapt up, and Chime was forced to flap off her shoulder onto Tris's, make offended hisses as the paper mage hurriedly gathered her things. "Thank you for talking with me. Here—," she handed Tris a business pamphlet from her bag, much like the one's that Tris and other businesses used to advertise, containing service information and an address for inquiry. "That's got my address on it, come see me in the afternoon someday if you like. I'll introduce my master to you. Bye!" And then she tore off down the road, nearly crashing into a fruit stall in an effort to escape the Printmaster and her teacher's wrath.

Not really having time to say a proper goodbye back, Tris only held up a hand dumbly as the blond disappeared around the corner, the pamphlet held loosely in the other.

---

After a good morning in the forge, working on commissions, Daja decided she was suitably far enough along in her projects that she deserved a reward, and what better reward could there be than dropping in on her lady-love for a surprise visit?

Daja smiled as she washed up and put on one of her nicer sets of day clothes, which looked good without making it obvious she was trying to do so.

I'll bring her flowers, Daja decided, Daffodils, those are her favorite.

Telling Briar and the servants where she was going, Daja took a horse and set a course through the city that would wind near a fresh flowers seller that she knew to have good prices, and end at the Merchant's Guild where her beloved Yosleen worked as an appraiser. With a reminiscing sigh, Daja thought fondly of how she and Yosleen had met.

Daja had been having trouble selling a metal piece and the thing was taking up too much room in storage, so she'd decided to register it to the Merchants Guild and have them either buy it immediately if they had a possible buyer in mind, or put it up in one of their auctions for a portion of the earnings, with a small fee. Daja had been waiting in line to see a representative when she'd been almost literally struck by the sight of a woman carefully examining jewelry through a jewelers loupe—a small, tube-like magnifying glass used for looking at tiny details.

The woman was about her age, petite and marvelously curved, with a full bosom and thin waist. Her hair was a gleaming flaxen blond that flowed down her back in large, silken coils. Her hazel eyes were an antique gold, edged in leaf-green and her skin and facial features were flawless except for a dark freckle just under one eye that only seemed to enhance her beauty. Daja stared at her, mesmerized, until the woman finally pulled away from the loupe and shook her head apologetically at the man who had been waiting next to her, his product rejected.

Now, even after her experience of love in Namorn with Rizu, Daja had never believed in love at first sight. She'd thought it started with 'like' and then came onto a person gradually, Daja didn't know it could hit you like a cinderblock to the head while standing in a crowded Merchant's guild front desk. It was amazing, wondrous and terrifying, like coming to an epiphany. But despite it's breathtaking wonder, it's complete suddenness left her with fears, the most crucial of which was whether the woman was a nisamohi, and if she wasn't, if she could be persuaded to change her mind.

So Daja had sweated in line, wondering what she was going to do, how she ought to make her move, all the while stealing glances at the woman and deciding she was more and more perfect with every look. Finally it was Daja's turn with the appraiser and even though she'd known it was coming, it felt too soon.

Daja stared at the woman. The woman stared back. The both of them eyed each other, shy and uncomfortable.

Finally Daja blurted out, "I wanted to sell this—," at the same time as the woman stammered, "How can I help you—."

They paused and stared at each other again, Daja's eyes widened as the woman made the cutest, coy tucking of her head, chewing on her lip. The Trader stuttered, saying, "I-I'm Daja Kisubo," and the woman hastily answered her with, "Yosleen Morrowell."

Then Yosleen smiled brilliantly and Daja nearly melted right there. And then of course there was nothing for it but to use one of those silly pick-up lines she'd heard Briar pull, which made Yosleen laugh and that was all it took for them to fall in love with each other.

Daja sighed happily, as she reminisced and thought more on her wonderful smith only wished her siblings could find a love as wonderful as hers. Her saati, Sandry was the kind of loveable, happy person that everyone liked. She could make friends anywhere, but she still had trouble finding that deep love, sifting for it in the crowd of would-be lovers who only wanted her money or power. Or maybe even wanted her for herself, but weren't the type to settle down in any permanent way and stand with Sandry in her endeavor to assist her uncle and his heir in governing the country. Her plan now seemed to be to let love find her, like all her romance novels suggested would happen if you just kept your heart open while continuing with your daily life. Daja thought that was a pretty good plan. And unlike Tris, Daja believed in the wisdom of romance novels. Experiencing a love-at-first-sight miracle did that to a girl. Hopefully Sandry's patience would pay off, but Daja couldn't help but wish it would pay off sooner rather than later.

Briar…well, Briar had been a little strange since coming back from Namorn. He still joked and flirted, but when it came down to it he wasn't near the player he'd been while on the trip. Some time during that visit he'd realized he wanted something deeper and that, while he wasn't hurting anyone with his more than occasional dalliances, his energies could be used for something more important until he found the one that was really worth his time. He'd seemed to have a more than friendly interest in an older woman who owned the same flower shop that Daja was headed for, but while the woman seemed to like him well enough and found his jokes sweat and amusing, Mistress Madlina had made it clear to Briar that he was too young a pup for her and she didn't have any plans to start a relationship with anyone any time soon. Briar had been a little disappointed for a few days, but he'd perked up later on and admitted that maybe it was for the best.

And then there was Tris. Tris who, as snappy and crabby as she could be, was loyal to the bone and had so much to give but only found hurt and rejection around every corner. Tris seemed to think it was because she was ugly or fat but Daja couldn't see it. The smith mage didn't make a habit of checking out her siblings—in fact, Daja found it a little nauseating if she thought about it too seriously—but speaking purely from an objective stand point, she didn't think Tris was as deficient in the looks department as she seemed to think.

Tris had a good complexion, a proud, angularly-shaped face and a sharp nose which she seemed to despise but which Daja thought made her look dignified and even elegant. Maybe she wasn't a traditional beauty, but she had something all her own. Her coppery hair, too, was a rich, beautiful color and all the effort her sister went into making sure it stayed glossy and smooth in her unconventional, but interestingly exotic and appealing, hairstyle instead of frizzing, did not go to waste. And her eyes were a changeable grey-blue that always seemed to have hidden depths one could drown in. And while Tris was a little on the plump side, she wasn't the pig she seemed to think she was, she just had 'added cushion,' as she'd heard a man call it once when admiring a woman of greater weight than Tris. Plenty of people didn't mind it, and some maybe even preferred it. Plus, Tris's bosom was full indeed, especially compared to her height, which was probably the reason an extra few pounds seemed like more on her to begin with. Daja thought her mind would probably shatter if she thought about it too much, but she could admit that someone with breasts Tris's size ought to have no trouble getting a man.

Ah! Brain cracking! Okay, she was done thinking about that. Objectifying her sister was a disturbing business. It was just gross to think about a sister that way, or a brother for that matter, she didn't want to think of any of her friends like that.

But anyway, Tris was not ugly, not even remotely. Daja couldn't see how there could be no male out there who was attracted to Tris's particular brand of loveliness, even as acquired a taste as that flavor might be. She'd been thinking hard since the meeting the day before about who she could try to hook up with her friend, but for some reason it was really difficult.

Hmm, I'll ask what Yosleen thinks, Daja decided. Maybe she'll know someone.

So Daja stopped and picked up a bouquet of sunny daffodils, white with bright yellow trumpets, and while she was at it, she also purchased a very fine crystal vase to put them in at a price she couldn't pass up, which Yosleen would definitely appreciate, as a merchant's guild appraiser. Making her way to the large guild hall, Daja checked with the front desk to make sure Yosleen was indeed there, and wasn't busy with a client—it wasn't a walk-in day, but sometimes people made appointments—and then strutted into the office, leaning her trader's staff against the wall like she owned the place.

Yosleen was sitting at her desk, small but sufficient for her needs, and reading from a stack of forms or records, her gold tresses framing her face which was deep in concentration upon her work. When Daja opened the door, her lover looked up and beamed in a way that made Daja's breath catch. Yosleen leapt to her feet, and the two women embraced around the bouquet and vase Daja held, catching each other in a smoldering kiss that would have made an onlooker think they hadn't seen each other for weeks instead of just a day or so.

When they finally let each other go, Yosleen seemed to notice the flowers for the first time and her smile made it clear she adored them, her thank-you a redundant exercise. Yosleen made a show of fussing over them, placing the vase in the perfect position on her desk before turning back to Daja.

"I missed you," the blond said with a soft smile, threading her arms around Daja's waist.

Daja grinned in return. "Missed you, too."

"So what's been happening in Daja's world the last two days?" she asked.

"Well, the first meeting of the secret cabal to find Tris a man held session in our parlor yesterday while she was out on business," Daja said with a quirk of her lips. She had spoken with Yosleen a little on her wishes that her siblings could have the same luck in love she did, and Daja had given Yosleen a brief accounting of her fears when it came to her redheaded sister, but she had kept most of the details to herself. She trusted Yosleen, and her siblings accepted her in Daja's life, and even liked her, but she felt Tris would prefer that Daja keep the majority of the story of her love-troubles within the family. Yosleen knew Tris had been made fun of in the past and had closed herself off, but anything beyond that the woman had to deduce herself. Still, she'd been privy to Daja's plans to get her siblings together to discuss the matter and had been a great sounding-board for Daja when she'd been debating whether to do so. Yosleen was all for it.

Yosleen laughed at Daja's phrasing. "Knowing Tris, I'll bet she's on to you already. I always get the feeling she knows everything you three are up to."

Daja shrugged. "She might suspect we're up to something but beyond that I'd bet a silver astrel she doesn't have a clue."

"So is it going well, your secret plot?" she asked interestedly, leaning back against the edge of her desk in a way that displayed her curves to excellent advantage.

Daja had to stop herself from drooling. Pay attention, Daj', she told herself. You can't jump your girlfriend in a public building no matter how delicious she looks. Blinking and shaking her head to get back in the game, Daja noticed as Yosleen smiled as if she knew exactly what her posture was doing to the smith mage.

"Well, I told my sibs and they agreed with me, so yes, it's going well," Daja explained, "but we've sort of hit a snag. You see, we were trying to think of a man who we thought might like her, and she him, so we could subtly have them meet, but we were having trouble coming up with names and decided to consider it for a few days and present them at the next meeting."

Yosleen screwed up her pretty face in thought. "Hmm. You know her much better then I do, of course. What type of person would she like? She always seems very, oh, focused. Business-like, even for a merchant. I can't really imagine her simply having fun with someone."

Daja winced because that was exactly the reason she was so worried about Tris. "I know what you mean. Briar, Sandry and I came up with a criteria, though." Checking them off with her fingers, Daja listed, "A male who is mature, smart, interesting, kind and easy-going, brave and clean."

Yosleen raised an eyebrow. "Clean?"

Daja shrugged. "Tris is finicky about that sort of thing."

Chuckling, Yosleen said, "Alright. That doesn't seem too restrictive."

The smith gave her a dubious look in return. "Well, you know it's not so hard finding someone Tris would like as finding someone willing to get over their prejudices to give her a shot. I love her, but she doesn't make it easy for people."

"True," Yosleen said, eyeing the ceiling dreamily as if reliving memories. "I wasn't sure about her at first, but once you get to know her she is…nice. I was intimidated a little, by the intense relationship you three had, but she took me aside and explained it for me, assured me that while they were very important to you, I could still be important, too, just important in a different way that wasn't any less precious because of that. And that it was good for you to have people outside your circle—it kept you four from closing off from the world."

Daja's eyes widened in surprise. "She did that?" And at Yosleen's kind smile, the trader girl whispered, "I hadn't known…."

Thank you, Tris, Daja thought, You're the best saati anyone could ask for. Daja would have communicated it through their bond then and there, but she didn't want to give away her matchmaking scheme too prematurely. One day, though, she'd tell Tris just how much she appreciated what she'd done.

"Do you know anything about her physical preferences?" Yosleen asked, drawing her back to the present problem.

Thinking about it, Daja realized she had no idea what kind of person Tris thought was appealing. She didn't talk about it much, and Daja hadn't been there to see what the two boys she'd crushed on in the past had looked like. "I don't really know," she had to admit. "Though as long as they aren't painful to look at, I would think looks wouldn't matter much to her if she liked their personality." After a moment, Daja realized this was probably right. Tris wasn't so much concerned about people's looks as their minds and actions. "So do you know anyone who fits that criteria?"

Yosleen tapped her lips with her finger in concentration which distracted Daja for a moment but she wrangled her mind out of the gutter as Yosleen smiled wryly and said, "This is surprisingly difficult."

Daja laughed. "I know."

Suddenly her eyes widened and she snapped her fingers with a quick point at Daja. "I just remembered someone—Oh, I can't believe I didn't think to introduce them myself at some point!"

"What, who?" Daja demanded to know, excitedly. "Do I know him?"

"Know of him maybe, but met him, I don't think so," Yosleen said, shaking her head. "The person I am thinking of is Daeved Starmer."

Daja frowned, that name was familiar. "From the Starmer merchant family?" The Starmer House were merchants and successful ones, trading in spices, herbs and medicines from the far east and, most recently, exotic goods from the lands across the Endless Ocean. Already rich, the new products, many of which they alone traded, had made them even richer. Furthermore, they were very well respected business people, and had never had scandal attached to their name.

Nodding, Yosleen continued with an edge of pride at having such a wonderful idea, "I've talked to him quite a bit. He's the middle son of the head of the family, about twenty-six, a very serious, mature sort of fellow. He's very nice, though, and exceptionally polite. Even if he and Tris didn't hit it off, I can't imagine he'd be anything but kind to her about it, nor let anyone else be."

Daja thought this over. A merchant was an interesting proposal and seemed somewhat appropriate since Tris herself had been born into a merchant family—she understood how they worked and the mindset involved. "That's promising, but is he smart? Brave? Interesting? He'd have to be able to cope with her magic and temper."

Yosleen smiled eagerly. "He was the one who proposed to his family to expand their trading to the new lands across the sea, even went there himself for a few months at a time, hiking through rainforests for new goods and people to trade with. He's seen all sorts of strange people and places, and hadn't batted an eye at one of them. Anyone who has done all that can be considered smart, brave and interesting, don't you think? Both of his brothers are infamous for fighting like cats and dogs too, I heard. Daeved was the one to mediate, which rather speaks for his ability to deal with a temper, I think."

A slow grin began to form on Daja's face as she processed all of this. "Yeah, you're right. You paint such a good picture, even I'm interested." When Yosleen frowned at the joke, Daja chuckled and planted a kiss on her cheek. "I just kidding, you're the only one for me, love."

"I better be," Yosleen professed with feigned irritation.

Getting back to the point, Daja said, "This is a great idea, Yos'. I don't want to recommend him until I've met him for myself, though." While the man sounded great on paper, it was impossible to really get an idea of a person until one met him. And while Yosleen had good intentions, it was true that Daja knew her sister much better than she did and would be more likely to maybe spot who her sister might find appealing, or see something that might be a clue that the two wouldn't be compatible.

Yosleen flashed her a devious smile. "I'm supposed to go over to the Starmer's storage warehouse this evening and examine a shipment of jewelry from the western lands across the sea. Daeved will be there, so what do you say, want to come?"

Daja raised an eyebrow, surprised at the proposition. "I don't think the Starmers would want little ol' me dropping in on them, nosing about and asking questions. Neither would the guild, for that matter."

And here Yosleen's eyes sparkled with mischief. "What are you talking about? You're just a smith mage I brought along, my special consultant for rare metalwork. And what the merchant guild doesn't know won't hurt them."

A huge grin split Daja's face and she stepped in to Yosleen to wrap her arms around the shorter woman's waist and pull her in for a kiss. "I like the way you think, love."

—-

Finally finishing up working on his shakkans, now that Chime was out of his way, Briar realized he still had more things to do today and he wasn't exactly looking forward to an exhausting few hours of weeding his garden at high noon and decided to put it off till the evening. This caused Briar to reflect upon his childhood days, spent toiling away in Rosethorn's garden at Discipline, and he saw the benefits of having a student that he could foist weeding onto as his teacher had. That Rosethorn was a clever one.

But putting that aside, Briar was now at loose ends. And he couldn't stop thinking about what he'd heard from Tris the other day before regarding the mysterious 'Heinz'. The more Briar thought about it, the more he was certain was that the stranger had been flirting, or at least teasing in a way that could develop into fondness quite easily. And he was starting to think that Tris's complaining had more to do with subconsciously recognizing a personality quite similar to her own and baulking at the perceived invasion of her niche then a genuine dislike. Briar was certain that if the two got to know each other, Tris would realize her mistake. Yes, they were a lot of assumptions to make based on so little information, secondhand at that, but Briar trusted his gut feelings. They'd gotten him out of more situations than he could count, and he wasn't about to disregard them now. This, added to the fact that he was seriously having trouble producing any other candidates, led Briar to decide that he ought to investigate further into this person.

So after Daja left to see Yosleen and Briar had finished his pruning, he freshened up and left the house in the capable hands of the cook and housekeeper, setting off towards that bookshop Tris had visited, thinking it the best place to start. Master Nelsin could know more about him, from what he'd gleaned from Tris's story, and might even be able to shed light on the interaction between his sister and the man the day before.

Approaching the shop with his hands in his pockets, whistling a tune, Briar gave the owner's daughter a nod before walking in and the girl ducked her head in a blush. Stepping inside, Master Nelsin looked up from stacking books and smiled jovially, coming over to give the boy a big hug which the former thief returned. "Briar! Good to see you, lad! You haven't been in the shop in a month."

Briar gave the scholarly looking older man an apologetic smile. He was a much more avid reader than Sandry or Daja and came into this book store quite often, sometimes together with Tris, who'd been the one to teach him to read in the first place and gave him a love for it. "Tris came back from school and had a bunch of books for me to borrow, sorry."

"Oh-ho, I see!" Master Nelsin laughed understandingly. "Well, then what can I help you with? We just got a new shipment in the other day and a fellow came in to sell me a great stack of excellent used titles in perfect condition, so we have a great selection of new things to peruse, they are on the shelf over there."

Briar nodded his thanks for the information. "I'll definitely take a look, Master Nelsin. I wanted to ask you though, you saw my sister in here yesterday, right?"

"Oh yes," the man informed him, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "She came in, I was very happy to see her after all this time. Quite the sweet girl, Trisana, and smart, too."

Briar smirked at hearing Tris called 'sweet', but he supposed books were one of those things that could draw it out of her, like children and animals. "Well, when she came home yesterday she was talking about some fellow she'd met in here. 'Heinz' was his short-name?"

"You must mean Heinzenrich," the man said in immediate recognition. "He started coming into the shop a month or so ago. Comes quite regularly. He's an excellent conversationalist, and the only one I've ever met beside myself who has actually read Skargirad's The Wolves Are Crying. Excellent book. Hard to find a good translation, though."

Briar felt his lips spread excitedly. This was getting better and better the more he heard. "Maybe I'll read it the next time you get one in," he offered.

Master Nelsin's eyebrows rose at this wonderful suggestion. "You'll love it," he promised Briar.

"So this Heinz fellow, what else can you tell me about him?" the green mage asked.

At this Master Nelsin aimed a questioning blue eye at Briar. "Why do you ask, lad?" he inquired cautiously. He was a nice man who'd known Briar for years, and the mage had given Master Nelsin no reason not to trust him, quite the contrary, but he could see how randomly showing up to question the shop keeper about another one of his customers could leave him with questions.

Briar considered what he ought to tell the man and decided just to go with the truth. Besides, it couldn't hurt to have more friends in on the scheme, and Briar, Sandy and Daja needed all the help they could get to match up Tris with a suitor.

Looking around to make sure there was no one in the vicinity who might overhear, Briar leaned in and Master Nelsin did the same, sensing that this would be a matter both interesting and private. "You see, my sisters and I are trying to find someone for Tris, if you catch my meaning. I heard her yakking all afternoon about this Heinz fellow and the weird bet-on she had with him—"

"Oh yes, I overheard that," Master Nelsin chuckled, remembering the event with amusement.

"—and I got to thinking," Briar continued, finding this encouraging, "That despite all her complaining about him, they seemed to have gotten on pretty well, and I caught a hint of flirting in her description of his actions. So I was just wondering if you could give me some more information on the fellow."

Master Nelsin seemed to think about this question seriously. "Hm, well, I'm not sure that I approve of you and your siblings going behind you sisters back with this, but I do admit the girl is too serious for her own good. She ought to enjoy life more, do the sorts of things young people do, so…" he hesitated then finally said, "Alright, I'll tell you what I know."

Briar grinned and clapped the shopkeeper on the back. "Good man!"

"I don't know about flirting but here is what happened yesterday—," Master Nelsin said and went on to give a more in-depth and objective account than Tris had on the matter as Briar listened carefully for more proof of his suspicions. Master Nelsin's story enlightened Briar a great deal as to what exactly had happened, as Tris had skimmed over it, leaving out the intervening details that made this Heinz seem much less rude and boastful than Tris had seemed to think he was, but unfortunately it didn't necessarily reinforce his thought that the man was in any way interested in her. It didn't exactly disprove it though, either, and that bet was still just weird.

"Master Heinzenrich—I'm afraid that I don't know his surname, he never gave it to me and I never asked—," Master Nelsin divulged after he'd finished telling about the incident, "is a very well-traveled and well-read foreigner, from the Norsringr Republic, I believe, but he was educated at one of the Southern Universities, I understand, though it was some time ago. I am aware that he is a mage and has an apprentice; I see her in here very occasionally. Nice girl, a little scatter-witted though at times. I was initially a bit surprised to hear all this, as the man is only twenty-nine, and thought for a time he may have dropped out of the curriculum early and been something of a charlatan in taking an apprentice, but I soon came to realize the man has an exceptional memory for texts. It doesn't surprise me that he might have graduated early, and the thought of him dropping out of anything and lying about it is inconceivable—I know a liar when I see one, and Heinzenrich gives one the impression of being a trustworthy individual."

Trustworthy, that's good to know, Briar thought. He didn't want some shyster hanging around his foster-sister.

"He mentioned once that he was brought up in an Ermetichi Monastery, which I found rather explained a lot about him," Master Nelsin continued. "And from what I can deduce, his work seems to be mostly as a scholar, researcher, historian and textual translator. Quite a man after my own heart, in that respect. And he seems to have a great deal of knowledge concerning the new lands across the Endless. He didn't explicitly say so, but I suspect he's been there. He also seems to have some kind of illness and keeps late nights, probably working. Some days I see him in here with a cane. Beyond this, though, I can't claim to know much about the man, other than that he has excellent taste in books and a love for them as fanatical as mine," the man told Briar apologetically.

"No, thank you, that's a big help," Briar said, mulling this all over and finding it fascinating. And if he was interested then there was a good bet that Tris would be—her attention could be captured by just about anything, she was that much of a sponge for new information. "What can you tell me about his personality and his looks?" he asked.

Master Nelsin considered. "He's pale-skinned, like a Namornese, some freckles, with dark hair, tinted reddish. Eye-color I forget, I'm afraid. Fairly tall, though," Master Nelsin held a hand level over the ground, quiet a few inches over Briar's head. "I never noticed any kind of limp, so I'm not sure what the cane does for him. His looks, I'm not one to judge, but he is a pleasant enough looking lad to me, though admittedly a bit dour in countenance at times. I think it's mostly the result of his illness, whatever it is, and his scholarly tendencies, as he seems an upbeat enough fellow whenever I speak with him."

"As far as his personality goes, I can say that he is generally polite and well-mannered, though I've heard some odd things from him occasionally. Seems to have a good head on his shoulders, quite down to earth, not conceited like some of these smart boys can get. Loves to talk about books, gets a bit caught up, actually, we talked for hours one afternoon without realizing it and his apprentice came in here and scolded him for worrying her. He seems to have a good relationship with his apprentice—she respects him but isn't afraid of the man, rather looks up to him, I think. He's not above jokes, either, and I've heard some rather witty things from him. One thing that rather surprised me about him, once I realized it, is that he's not the complete academic type I come across so often. The ones who are geniuses but practically live in their own little scholastic world, a bit cut off from practical events. No, he's rather like you and Trisana are, my boy—he's got a lot of real-life experience, though you might not realize it upon first glance."

By this point, Briar was nodding excitedly with every word. "Excellent. So what do you think? How were they when you introduced them?"

Master Nelsin laughed. "Oh, it was rather like watching two strange cats meet, except one of them didn't realize they were a cat."

Having some experience with cats after living with Evvy, who adored them and had at one point owned a dozen of the critters, Briar had a good idea of what the shopkeeper was trying to communicate. "He was friendly enough but she didn't like him, eh?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Master Nelsin corrected him with an amused shake of the head. "Rather I'd say she was intrigued but unready to be convinced."

Briar snickered. That had described what he'd picked up from Tris's story yesterday perfectly.

"Heinzenrich was a bit odd yesterday, I did realize," Master Nelsin mused. "He doesn't interfere with customers, allowing me to do any advising, but he gave Trisana some advice. This however, I attribute to the fact that I had made a point of introducing them—I knew they could have a lot to talk about—and Heinzenrich had just sold me a large number of books, which Tris was looking through, so he had a certain validity in disseminating to her some information about them. Also he made that bet, which was rather out of character in some ways. Honestly, I'd thought the man immune to insult—for instance, a rather quarrelsome fellow of the political-bent, always spouting about the government and starting big arguments with my customers, came in the other day when he was also here. The quarrelsome man tried his best to draw Heinzenrich into a row, but the fellow just seemed to think it was all good entertainment."

Briar frowned, knowing exactly which man Master Nelsin was talking about. Daja had had to hold him back from rushing up and strangling the fellow before. And he seemed to pop up everywhere, didn't the man have a job? He had some serious respect for anyone who could stand the guy for more than five minutes without resorting to homicide. Anyone who could do that probably wouldn't get offended over a little remark like the one Tris had made, even if his sister's digs just had that little extra bit of bite to them. "Really? So why do you think he did that?" Briar asked the shopkeeper.

Master Nelsin made a hesitant expression. "This may sound odd, but I think he just really wanted her to read a particular book that he realized she ordinarily wouldn't, especially as she seemed to distrust his judgment, and thought this was a good way of getting her to do it."

The green mage's eyebrows raised up to his hairline. "What? Just for her to read a book?"

"His idea of books is much like mine—probably the reason I like him so much—I'd give books away if I could afford to, but this is a business so I charge money. When a person comes into my shop and falls in love with a novel they can't afford, however, or I sense I have just the thing to change their disposition around and lift their spirits, I do so," Master Nelsin said. "I believe his motivations are similar."

"So he did it for the love of literature then?" Briar asked dubiously. "Huh, well that puts a wedge in my plans," he realized. "I was sure I had something there."

"Forgive me for saying so, lad," Master Nelsin told Briar amusedly, "but I hardly think what you pick up from hearing a secondhand conversation can be a very reliable source to base theories on."

"But you didn't hear how she was going on about him, Master Nelsin," the green mage explained. "My Coppercurls doesn't let anyone get under her skin like that for no good reason. There's the beginnings of something there for her, I know it."

"Maybe so—you know her better than I," Master Nelsin admitted, then leaned in and pinned Briar with a very hard, serious stare that the former thief had never seen on the man before, "But I wouldn't get your hopes up about it Briar. Truthfully, I hardly know this man, and I've noticed how wary Trisana is around mages. It's why I didn't introduce her as such to the fellow. He seems well enough on the surface, but in different situations, well, people can be different then we think. Trisana has been closing up more and more over the years with strangers, especially males, and from what I've seen just here in my shop, and I don't think she can afford to have a bad experience if you go through with this little scheme of yours."

Briar listened to all this, giving it the respect it deserved as good council coming from a man that genuinely liked and cared for his sister. Taking it all in and mulling it over, Briar gave the shop keeper a big smile, his heart warmed that his sister had found such an unexpected, stalwart friend and protector in the older man. It was also good to know that it wasn't just all in Briar, Sandry and Daja's heads—Tris really was closing off to people, becoming more wary. She was well enough in business situations and with her friends, but when it came to new people in a social setting, the girl was on her guard all the time, unwilling to let anyone in.

"Thanks, I'll keep it in mind," Briar said with a nod of acknowledgment, showing with his eyes how much he appreciated all this. Then he grinned mischievously, "But it wouldn't hurt for me to meet the fellow and see if he's good enough for my sister—well, no one could really be good enough, but, you know, as good as one is likely to find anywhere."

Master Nelsin laughed, shaking his head. "Well, I know Trisana is safe in your hands. You are a good brother to her, Master Moss."

Briar stabbed a thumb at himself smugly, wearing a smirk. "She really ought to appreciate me more. All the girls do is rag on me, when I'm the one making sure they don't walk off cliffs while they go off dilly-dallying, looking up at the clouds," he told the man loftily. "So, where can I find this mage? I'll think up some shifty way to make his acquaintance and get to know him myself before I let him get anywhere near my sib."

Master Nelsin found this plan very amusing, and said, "I'm afraid I don't know his residence, and while he comes into the shop often, it isn't on a regular schedule." Briar gave the shopkeeper a disappointed face as he frowned, tapping a finger to his mouth in thought, trying to figure out how to find the person. "I do, however," Briar perked up as Master Nelsin spoke, "Still have a number of the books he sold me. Some of them looked to be personally annotated. You might find some clues in them, if you take a look."

Briar agreed that this was a good idea and a moment later found the green mage sorting through those books while Master Nelsin helped another customer. He had a thought that maybe one of the tomes might have some kind of identification, like: This book belongs to Heinzenrich so-and-so, if found please return to the address blah-blah. Or at the very least a note saying something like: For my friend Heinzenrich so-and-so, which would at least give Briar a last name to work with. Checking the most obvious places for such an inscription, such as right inside the covers or the first and last pages of the books, Briar found them to be frustratingly empty.

"Hmm," he hummed, as he leafed through the pages of one book, finding them to be crisp and clean of any handwriting, or even so much as a smudge of dirt or bent page-corner, even though the publishing date of the book placed it as nearly fifteen years old. Picking up another volume, this one a thick leather-bound beast in equally pristine condition, Briar whistled.

"Wow," the green mage said with astonishment as he flipped through the pages of the book. While thick and over-large, the pages were not completely taken up by printed text, but had extra-wide margins which were completely filled with tiny, but completely legible annotations that went all the way from cover to cover, with the occasional word underlined in the text or arrow drawn from a notation to a specific passage. Further perusal of the margins on other pages showed diagrams and little drawings which Briar found himself impressed by. Eyeing the title page again, he found the book to be about ancient farming techniques, of all things.

"Okay," he murmured dubiously, wondering vaguely why someone would own this kind of book—who wasn't Tris, of course, and therefore interested about everything, no matter how useless. Briar could see how someone like himself, a garden mage, might want to know about farming in long ago times, but a regular mage, especially an academic one as this fellow almost surely was, would usually want nothing to do with it, mostly because it wasn't glorious enough. There just weren't many mages with the kind of interest in plants as Dedicate Crane. That this Heinz had owned something like this wasn't actually a bad thing, though.

Taking the time to skim the notes, Briar found himself further surprised. The annotator—which Briar would assume was Heinzenrich—seemed to be very familiar with the subject, as well as with many other books on the same topic. He made comparisons of certain passages to other authors' views and discoveries, mentioning recent academic papers and journals published, or wrote his own observations, occasionally going off on various anecdotes relating personal experiences in the midst of cultures and places that Briar had never heard of. In some places he wrote one word commentaries next to sentences like Interesting, or Unlikely, or Accuracy? At one point that made Briar smile, the commentator had drawn an arrow to a box sketched around a few paragraphs of text and written Obviously doesn't know what he's talking about, underlining it three times.

But that wasn't all. The annotator was hyperaware of grammar and occasionally rewrote the sentences into forms that made more sense, crossing out words or correcting errors made during the printing process. Some words had the definitions written in the margins. There were also criticisms and, more rarely, praises of the writing style and word choice. The rest of the marginalia seemed to be a compilation of anything and everything the man could relate to what was written, including facts about other cultures, history, various other works, writers and scholars, and some things that seemed to have been pulled out of thin air with no obvious ties to the text. After reading five pages of the book and its accompanying notes, Briars was finding himself more interested by what was written in the margins than the actual manuscript.

Closing the book, Briar hummed as he considered. After a moment, he looked up for Master Nelsin, holding the heavy volume over his head. "How much for this one?"