Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The room beyond the door was dimly lit by some sort of diffused lighting,
Siska could see no source, though light reflected from the ceiling. 
Perhaps it came from recessed holes holding some light source and shining
it at the surface overhead.  It was not a particularly large room, perhaps
thirty feet to a side, larger than any she had been in thus far at the
house of the order, but not as big as many rooms in Mistress Tomasina's
manor.

   Across the far side of the room was a long, low table, that spanned from
wall to wall on either side.  Behind that were several chairs, standing
empty for now.  The walls, of simple wood, polished but unpainted, gleamed
dully in the indistinct light and shone reddish.  The floor was, by far,
the most ostentatious thing she had seen at the order's home.

   It was marble, inset with gold tracery.  The marble was white with faint
gray veining.  It was polished, like the wood of the table and walls, but
to a mirror's finish, and she could see a perfect reflection of the table
and ceiling in it.  Inset in the center of the floor was a golden disk a
pace across, showing a stylized sun with radiating spokes of fire that
flowed outward becoming the tracery beyond the disk, losing distinction as
it grew more distant from the disk and becoming something of a abstract
series of lines and swirls.

   "Where are they?" asked Siska after a moment.

   Phillip stood quietly near the door.  "They will be along, now that they
know I am here," he replied.  "I'm sure they will wish to put question to
me."

   She held out her slender hand to him and, with great hesitation, he took
it.  "It would not do for them to think us lovers," he murmured.

   "Far from it, you comfort a frightened apprentice," she said, smiling at
him.

   A long moment passed as she examined the room.  The high-backed chairs
seemed carven from the same woods that formed the paneling on the walls. 
The whole of the room was spotless, but more in a way that showed little
use, not immaculate upkeep.  The table on the far side showed scuffs and
scratches, as did the chairs, and the gold tracery was worn away in a few
spots.  The stone around the disk and the disk itself, were free of wear,
though, as if people avoided treading upon it.

   "That seems important," said Siska, nodding toward the disk of gold. 
"Does it have a meaning?"

   Phillip nodded.  "It was a gift, long ago, from the then king of
Tressen, when we had a king," he said.  "It was sworn then that the order
would defend the royal house."

   "There is no royal house," said Siska, her voice distant with thought.

   A bitter grimace crossed Phillip's face.  "We failed," he said, simply.
"The order could not stop the Night of Flames when it befell the city." He
referred to the civil war, almost a hundred years gone, where the king and
royal family were put to the sword.  None had held that title since, the
city falling to rule by a council of nobles from the lesser houses.

   Siska stared at him.  "It was treachery, was it not?" she asked.  She
had heard old men of the household telling of the days then.  How her great
grandfather and great grand dame cowered in the manor of the mistress'
great grandfather, hoping the riots and fires would not sweep them away. 
She shuddered.

   "It was, and too quickly for the order to stop them, but we remember the
failure every time we meet," he looked at her with a broadening smile. 
"Now we take our duty to defend the city, instead, lest a king return and
there be no city to rule."

   A door behind the chairs opened.  It was a part of the paneling, and had
been all but invisible amid the sections of panels.  Two men and two women
entered and took up seats amid the nine high-backed chairs.  The door shut
then, silently.

   All were elderly, save one, who was younger, one of the men, perhaps ten
years Phillip's senior.  The first one to speak said, "The master is
absent, who will speak for him?"

   One of the women stood, looking left then right with deliberate
slowness. She had a kindly face, grandmotherly, with her silver hair tied
in a tight bun and glittering blue eyes.  "I will speak for the master, if
none object."

   There were assenting murmurs from the other three present.  It seemed to
have the feel of ritual, the words spoken mechanically, though with some
meaningfulness.

   The grandmotherly woman moved to the tallest of the chairs, in the
center.  "I speak for the master, this meeting is called to order."

   The man on her left, the younger man.  "Phillip Namen, you stand before
us with a visitor?" he asked.

   "Not a visitor, council," said Phillip in reply, "a student."

   There was a brief murmur.  "Her talent does not show, why was she
chosen?" asked the grandmotherly woman, occupying the high chair.

   "I have been shielding her talent from prying eyes, master," said
Phillip.  "There are those who would keep us from keeping our ranks strong,
as you know."

   The murmurs resumed between the four for a moment.  "Unshield the lass,
Phillip, so that we may assess her worthiness."

   Phillip made a brief gesture with two fingers and Siska heard him mutter
something, too quietly for her to make out.

   All but the younger man gasped.  "By the One," said the other lady, a
skinny woman with a largish nose and wide, dark eyes.  She still had some
black amid her silver hairs, and wore it loosely about her shoulders.  "She
shines like a beacon."

   "You were wise to shield her," said the old man.  This man reminded
Siska of Pacher, the stableman, another of the slaves from the mistress'
household.  He had always been kind to her, though when he drank it was
unwise for her to be alone with him, his hands wandered a bit much for
comfort.  This man even had the red nose of someone who imbibed more than
casually.  "There are those in Tressen who would see her as a tool for
their use."

   Siska thought about those words, then added her own thought: And you
will not?  Though she kept her mouth clamped shut.

   While a moment of silence passed, Phillip stood forward and placed the
scroll he had written upon the table before the master.  She simply looked
at it for now, but rested a age wrinkled hand upon it gently.  "We will
examine her application momentarily," she said.  "There is another matter
of import to discuss."

   Phillip cringed a bit back and Siska inhaled sharply, thinking she knew
what came next.

   "You were sent into Tressen to secure for the order, a sum of funds from
outstanding credits.  Not only did you not return promptly, but you stayed
in Tressen until today," she said.  "Normally, your coming and going is not
our business to concern ourselves with, but when you are acting in a
official capacity as treasurer, you are expected to move with due
alacrity."

   Phillip swallowed hard.  "There were - problems - with bringing the
funds back," he said.

   "Problems?" asked the young man, blinking.  "Were you robbed?" His face
showed that he did not believe this.  One would assume powerful wizards
rarely found themselves victims of petty crimes.

   The muscles on Phillip's neck became tensed and Siska squeezed his hand.
Two of the councilors noted their hand holding with raised eyebrows, but
said nothing.  "No, I was not robbed.  I had to buy Siska," he finally
said, lowering his eyes.

   "Buy Siska?" asked the master, glowering.  "She was a slave?"

   "Indeed, she was, master," said Phillip.  "I could not allow her to be
sold to a brothel or some other such, we need her, she needs teaching."
This last he spoke in a flood of words, the earnestness pouring from him.

   "So," said the master.  "Without a single consultation, or any other
form of effort to secure permission, you purchased this young lady and
apprenticed her?"

   "And freed her," murmured Phillip.

   "Your position on slavery is well documented," snapped the old man. 
There was an edge of disapproval even in this statement that caused Siska
to blink.

   Phillip seemed to harden his spine at that tone.  "It damn well should
be the position of the order, councillor," he hissed.  "It was ever the
position of the royal house, and we, still, are sworn to their service."

   "We will not fall to politics in this matter," said the master, holding
up a hand.  "Both of you will be silent regarding slavery, we have the
matter of the missing funds.  How much did you spend, Phillip?"

   "Two thousands of order moneys, the other thousand I can provide from my
own sources," he said, lowering his head again.

   "You spent three thousands to free a slip of a slave girl?" stammered
the old man, his eyes bulging hugely and his face reddening more.  Any
resemblance, in Siska's eyes, to the somewhat groping, but generally nice
old stableman at the mistress' manor was obliterated by this outburst.  He
furthered her negative view of him.  "Was she well worth the moneys?" he
asked, glowering at their clasped hands.

   "Silence, Counsilor Embrule," snapped the master.  "It is enough that he
admits to his transgress for now." She then turned to Phillip.  "How do you
propose to make up the difference?"

   "I don't know," said Phillip.  "But I will."

   "I'll do it," said Siska, shocked to hear her own voice ring out in the
room.  It was the first thing she had said to the council.  "I'll repay the
difference, as soon as I am able, or if needed now, I'll pay as much as I
can by reselling myself into slavery."

   The old man seemed to almost smile at this, but Siska found her back
straightening and her eyes hardening in a way she did not know she could.
"I will swear to repay every mark of my purchase, plus any interest you
deem reasonable, as a 'loan' for my freedom, if you will allow it."

   The master considered her words.  "A brave statement from one who is not
even sure to become a wizard."

   "You know I will," said Siska.  "You all seem to think I'm powerful
beyond reason, and I know I can learn anything set before me." Siska was
unsure where the confidence filling her voice originated, but found herself
glad of its presence.  Even Phillip was gaping at her openly now.

   In Phillip's eyes, she stood proudly and looked for all the world, a
foot taller and even more beautiful than she had as a meek apprentice girl.
Her violet eyes flashed in the dim light of the council chamber.  "Will you
accept my word to repay you and not punish Mentor Phillip beyond removing
him from the office of Treasurer?"

   The council put their heads together, harsh rapid whispers shot back and
forth.  The old man seemed to not like the idea, and the skinny woman
seemed to side with him.  However the younger man seemed to side with
Phillip in this matter, and the master also seemed willing.  They finally
stopped and the master sat up.  "It is the decision of the council that we
accept your pledge of repayment, Siska, and to remove Phillip from the
position of Treasurer, and he will not hold office in any position, for a
period of not less than ten years."

   Siska smiled, feeling her spine turn to jelly and turned to Phillip who
looked both shocked and pleased.  "We only accept your word as you are also
accepted as an apprentice to the order, and must take the Oath."

   "Kneel and touch your hand to the disk," said Phillip in almost a
whisper.

   Siska knelt on the cool marble and reached forth to touch the disk with
the fingertips of her right hand.  She looked up to meet the eyes of the
master, who stood and said, "Do you, Siska, swear to uphold the crown of
Tressen and the honor of the city?"

   She felt a cool shiver through her body, but nodded and said, "I swear
it."

   Somehow, it felt right in her mind to give that oath.

   "Do you swear to not use your gift to harm without cause and to help at
need those who ask?"

   "I swear it," said Siska.

   "Do you swear to protect the weak and fight darkness, where it might be
found?" asked the master.

   "I swear it," said Siska.

   "Rise, Siska of the Blue Order, Apprentice to Phillip Namen, and be
welcome among your brothers and sisters." There was a decided happy sound
to the woman's voice, as if she were truly welcome.  Siska could not stifle
a few tears which rolled down her smooth cheeks.  The master sat again. 
"This meeting is concluded," she said with a bit of formality.

   At that, the four rose and the old man and the skinny woman left the
room, looking none too pleased.  The grandmotherly one, who had sat as
master, came around the table, lifting an end leaf that adjoined it to the
wall and hugged Siska.  "Welcome sister," she said, then stood back.  "Far
too few girls come to the order, I am truly happy to have you here."

   The younger man came around the table, as well, patting her shoulder and
eyeing Phillip oddly.  "Leave it to you to find the prettiest girl in
Tressen as an apprentice."

   "We will assume," said old woman, "that Phillip had purely professional
reasons to recruit Siska.  One knows, her power alone was worthy of it."

   Siska blushed a bit at her words and earned another raised eyebrow from
the woman.  "If they had not been purely professional, they must be now,"
she said, and gave Phillip a slightly disapproving look as well.

   "If it was not, master, it was my doing," said Siska hastily.  "I did
not know the prohibition, but Mentor Phillip did resist me trying to show -
gratitude."

   A chuckle came from the woman and she patted Phillip.  "A sore trial, I
imagine," she said, then looked at Siska again.  "Please, we're not in
council any more, call me Stormy."

   "Mentor Stormy?" asked Siska.

   "My parents were traditionalists," she said.  "Many girls were given
names of such kind when I was a girl."

   Siska thought a moment.  "I have a friend named Mist," she said.

   "That would be one of them, yes," said Stormy.  "I fear, the names hang
more lightly on girls your own age than on old women, but Stormy is my
name."

   The young man pulled Phillip off to the side, speaking low, as to not be
overheard.  "You are lucky that Yekks is not present today," he said.  "He
would have sided with Embrule and the master's tie breaking vote would not
have availed you."

   "Where is he?" asked Phillip, though he was glad he was not here.

   "He took passage to Scythe Isle to tend to some matters on his estates,"
said the younger man.  "You know he has little problem with the idea of
slavery, as his estates are farmed by them."

   Phillip thought about Yekks' fields and orchards, worked by slave labor.
"True, he would not have much sympathy for Siska, would he?"

   "Not a whit," said the younger man.  "He would have happily mortgaged
the girl when she offered it, though, and taken her off as a private
thrall. One knows he has the resources."

   The very idea of Siska at the mercy of Yekks caused Phillip to shudder.
"Well, that matter is passed," said the younger man, smiling.  "She's got
spine, that one, standing up to the council before even being apprenticed.
I half voted in favor just to see how she does in the order."

   "Tarmal, She will dominate it in five years, mark my words," said
Phillip quietly.  "You saw her power.  Also, she learns so fast it's
frightening."

   "Does she?" asked Tarmal.  "Well, it should be an interesting five
years, then."

   - -

   Siska sat on a small stool she had retrieved from the clutter in one
corner of Phillip's office while he worked a ledger book, prior to handing
it over to the incoming treasurer.  "I really must thank you," he said,
grinning.  "You put the idea of punishing me by stripping me of the office
of treasurer."

   She looked up and blinked at him, her finger holding the page she was on
in a thick, dusty tome on pyromancy.  "You don't mind the loss?" she asked.

   "Not in the least," said Phillip.  "It was a lot of work and
responsibility.  Don't get me wrong, it was an honor, but not an easy
honor."

   A giggle escaped her lips.  "I suppose for someone to whom clutter comes
easily, the order of accounts was trying," she said.

   "Truth from babes," said Phillip.

   "How old are you, mentor?" she asked, as if the mention of her being
young had brought it to mind.

   Phillip paused in his scribblings in the ledger to look at her.  "A very
impolitic question," he said, "but I am sixty seven."

   She studied his face.  "I would have thought in your thirties," she
said.

   "The men in my family don't show age much, and wizards even less so,"
said Phillip.  "There are spells which can slow the progress, perhaps
double one's lifespan, if nothing goes wrong."

   "It seems a lot can go wrong with magic," said Siska, eyeing her book.
"The descriptions of fire's backlash is horrifying, and it cannot be healed
by magic."

   "That's true," said Phillip, returning to his paper.  "Be very wary of
mageflame.  One protect me." The last was said as he raised his head again
to regard Siska with a six inch flame of bright green dancing on her palm.
"You cannot be learning that fast, girl," he murmured.

   Siska smiled up at him.  "Are you not pleased?" she asked, closing her
hand and extinguishing the flame as she did so.  "I would have thought you
happy at my learning."

   "I am amazed and frightened," Siska, "it takes weeks, just to learn to
grasp fire safely for most people."

   "I'll slow down, if you like, mentor," she said soberly, though he could
tell he had hurt her feelings a bit.

   "No, but please, never strain, never force yourself to do something
larger than you can without effort," he said.  "That is when most mistakes
happen."

   Siska laughed, a girlish laugh, and one that made him smile, too.  He
liked being reminded that she was a girl, and a young pretty one, at that.

   Another flame leaped from her hand, hovering over it.  A jet five feet
long and roaring with fury.  It was seething orange and red and she grinned
at it, light reflecting from her face.  "If I release that much power, I
will scorch your ceiling."

   "You.  You're not trying right now, not straining?" he asked, eyes
widening.

   Siska shook her head, lifting her other hand and igniting an identical
flame in that palm.  "No, mentor, this is easy." The frightened look on
Phillip's face made her close the palms, and the flames blinked out of
existence.  "I scare you," she said.  "I saw that."

   "I fear for you, there is a difference," said Phillip.  "No more magic
this evening, besides, don't you have an appointment with Mist?"

   "Yes, I do," said Siska, rising from her stool.  "We will have time for
me to go?"

   Phillip smiled as he stood and slung his cloak over his shoulders.  "I
believe we do, I don't want you missing out on having friends." In the back
of his mind he welcomed anything that would keep her from looking at more
magical texts for a few hours.  Perhaps, with luck, a young man might catch
her eye.  One who liked to distract her, preferably.

   The ride back into Tressen was pleasant, despite the cool winds that
made Siska shiver beneath the light cloak and silk robes.  The sun shone
and the fresh air made her smile, flavored with the scent of the forest
and, faintly, the ocean.

   The city itself was not nearly so sweet smelling.  Tressen was clean, as
cities went, and only faintly smelled of sewage, a smell that grew stronger
the longer it had been since a good rain.  The bay, itself smelled of
shallows, of muddy shores and fishy.  Siska wondered that she had never
noted the scents before, but she supposed one grew used to them until you
left for a while.

   She rather wished to go back to the home in the forest.

   - -

   "We're to meet them in the park," said Mist, grinning as she took
Siska's arm and guided her into the flow of pedestrians on Rayfish Way, the
avenue that ran before Phillip's home.  Occasional horses spiced the crowd,
and even rarer carriages and wagons.  Tressen was an island city, and there
was little need for long endurance transport of any kind, as there was not
terribly far to go anywhere on the island.  Only those who must move heavy
loads or the very wealthy used them.

   The opposite tip of the island, Northpoint, was said to be a small town
and only ten miles away.  Most people wishing to go there, or carry goods
to Northpoint simply put themselves or their items on a ferry.

   Siska had no experience with such matters, but had easily heard enough
to know ferries ran to all the nearby towns and even some of the nearer
islands.  In good weather, that is.

   The horses in the crowd were ridden by the wealthy, naturally.  Poor
folk could not afford a horse in the first place.  Such luxuries were
expensive on Tressen, and she wondered that Phillip had rented two for
their ride to the order's home.

   "I rather fear they won't like me," said Siska, blushing slightly.

   "Bah!" said Mist, giggling.  "They will adore you, like I do."

   Siska wondered at how much of Mist's adoration was some form of
wonderment at her having been a slave girl but dismissed the thought as
unfair to the shorter girl.

   It was not terribly far to the park they sought.  Several acres of
wooded land, fenced with a ten-foot wrought iron fence, and gated.  Parks
were only open in daylight hours, and one had to pay the keepers a
tenthmark to enter them.  This had a twofold effect: The abjectly poor
could not come into parks and the parks had plenty of monies to keep up the
grounds and afford sporadic patrols by armed guards, to ensure the peace
and tranquility of the place.

   Phillip had negligently provided Siska with a whole silver mark to pay
for her entry and for any incidentals she might need for the picnic. 
Before they reached the park they had acquired a basket, which they filled
with various foodstuffs and a bottle of wine to sip.

   "Even a wizard cannot throw marks around that casually," said Mist. 
"You should be careful in spending it."

   Siska patted her small purse, a gift from Mist, made of soft doeskin. 
"I keep tight rein upon my strings," she replied.  They were walking a
graveled path which ran about the park in a massive loop, amid the trees
and tended lawns.  Lava stone outcrops pierced the loamy ground to shove
bare black rock, pitted and filled with bubbles and holes, up amid the
greenery.

   In the distance, Siska began to hear the sounds of wood impacting wood,
and other sounds, like yelling and grunts.  She looked toward Mist, who
smiled.  "That would be the young men, training," she said.  "A fine view,
if I must say so myself."

   The came around a bend in the path, which skirted a particularly large
formation of the exposed black stones, and saw the other two girls, already
parked upon a wide blanket on the lawn.  This stretch of the grasses was
wider than most, between tall elm and pine trees.  At the bottom of the
slope, in a shallow valley, were three dozen men.

   Young men, from the look of most of them, and true to Mist's words, half
unclad.  Sweat glistened on their exposed backs and arms as they launched
mock attacks at one another with replicas of swords crafted in dark, oiled
hardwoods.  Often they screamed as they attacked, and Siska wondered if
that made it more effective, but she just stared at the display. 
Apparently for longer than she thought.  She realized that Mist was
speaking.

   "Leetha and Keeley, the two we're to meet?  Remember them?" asked Mist,
giggling at her.  "One bless me if you're not more stunned by those lad's
bare chests than at becoming a wizard."

   Siska shook her head.  "No," she said, forcing back some impatient words
which had leaped into her mind.  "It just seemed familiar, that's all."

   What in hell did that mean?  she asked herself.  She looked at the young
men again, and they were just that, a couple of dozen young men with a
small handful of older men amid them, instructing and giving pointers,
while generally standing and shaking their heads in disapproval.

   Siska knew nothing of arms, slaves were not permitted to bear so much as
a knife, unless their duties required it, and even then only while
performing that duty.  She had never even wrestled with another human
being, other than in play with the other girls at the manor.  It looked
terribly wearying and painful.

   Every few seconds, one of the lads would strike another with one of the
wooden swords.  Many had bruises on their ribs, sides, and arms.  It was a
testament to their apparent level of skill that they did not bear more
marks.

   Keeley caught sight of them and waved Siska and Mist to come on.  The
two approached sitting beside the other two girls on the blanket.  "Varan
spoke to me a short while ago," said Keeley, excitedly.  "The tall one,
with the long blond braid on his back." She pointed to one of the young
men, fifty paces away, for Siska's benefit.

   "Handsome lad," said Siska in what she hoped was an approving tone. 
Varan seemed a bit cocksure in her eyes.  He smirked at his opponents and,
to his credit, put them down quickly, almost invariably leaving a darkening
bruise on arm or chest.  He had blue eyes, and they seemed hard, like lumps
of blue-dyed glass.  His gaze fell on the girls as he stood from another
sparring session and she could have sworn he was looking at her directly,
though surely he looked toward Keeley.

   "He is," said Keeley.  "He said he will try to meet me in the market
tomorrow at tea."

   Leetha and Mist giggled at that, almost inanely, in Siska's mind, she
just donned a smile, to humor them, hopefully.  Despite her liking of Mist,
she seemed a bit childish at times.

   Leetha looked at Siska.  "Did you bring your little copy?" she asked,
looking around hopefully.

   "My little. . ." began Siska, then realized what Leetha was speaking of.
"Oh, no, she's busy with chores at the house."

   Mist giggled.  "Cleaning very small messes up, no doubt," she said.

   Leetha only looked very slightly disappointed, but smiled gamely.  "Are
you able to make copies of anyone, or just yourself?" she asked.

   "Only me, for now anyway," said Siska.  "I've not practiced the arts
long." She implied a promise she had no intention of following up in that,
as if she would attempt to correct that issue, eventually.

   Keeley and Leetha tore their eyes from the sweating and yelling young
men and turned to face Siska.  "Mist says you wish to be friends," said
Keeley, pulling her knees to her chest, showing ankles beneath her long
cotton dress.  It was a pretty dress and reminded Siska that she had yet to
pick up the dress she and Phillip had ordered from the tailor.  "We would
like that, too, though we were probably a bit distant the other day.  You
must understand, we were rather shocked to find out you were a wizard."

   Siska smiled.  "I'm not a wizard yet," she said patiently.  "I'm just a
girl, like you."

   Leetha blurted out, "Mist told us you were a slave, and that Phillip
freed you."

   Siska could tell that Leetha was one with some sharpness in her tongue,
and seemingly little to keep her from speaking what came forth in her mind.

   "Yes," said Siska, her eyes falling.  "I'd rather not speak too much of
it, so soon," she added.

   "Oh, I understand that," said Leetha, though her eyes showed that she
truly did not.  She did let it drop though, falling back into silence and
digging into her belt pouch.  Her hand came forth with an orange strand of
finely woven cloth.  "Sorry if I upset you.  I really wish to be your
friend." She held the cloth out to Siska.

   Siska looked up to see both the girls holding out long cloths, orange
and blue.  She reached out and took them, forcing a smile to her lips. 
"It's just uncomfortable, is all," she said.

   "Don't mind Leetha," said Mist.  "Her father is a horse merchant, and it
is her way to rebel against him to never lie or hold back."

   This brought giggles from Keeley, who nodded.  "He has a smooth tongue,
so she sharpens hers upon a whetstone each morning to a keen edge," she
said.

   "I do not!" exclaimed Leetha, giving her two friends mock glares to
either side before turning back to Siska.  "I really just speak without
thinking, I hope you can get past that."

   "I think I can manage that," said Siska soberly, fishing two silver
strands of cloth from her own pouch.  The four sat for the next few
moments, with each other's help, weaving the strands into plaits and
cornrows upon their heads.  All four now bore the other three colors, in
addition to their own.

   They had not noted the absence of clashing wood until there was a deep
voice nearby.  "I'll never understand what you girls see in those ribbons,"
it said.

   They all turned quickly to see the young man Keeley had been speaking
of, Varan, standing nearby.  Up close he was handsome.  He had a chiseled
chin, with a deep dimple in its center, and a slim nose that gave him an
aristocratic look.  His eyes still seemed stony, though, and made Siska
uncomfortable as they fell upon her.

   He had another lad in tow, who had just now caught up.  This youth wore
his hair loose in a shaggy mane of unruly pale orange.  He had the matching
complexion, rather red and freckled, with big green eyes that were as soft
as Varan's were hard.  "Are you going to introduce me to your fans?" he
asked as he walked up.

   Siska noted that the red-haired youth's body was just as impressively
muscled as Varan's, though he was not quite as handsome.  He had a readier
smile, and it seemed quite genuine.

   Mist and Leetha seemed to bridle at the assumption that they were fans,
but Keeley broke in before they could speak.  "I'm Keeley," she said, then
pointed around her friends.  "This is Leetha, Mist, and our new friend,
Siska."

   Automatically, each girl nodded as their names were called out, it
seemed the thing to do.

   The broad smile on the new lad's face broadened farther.  "Four beauties
out to enjoy an afternoon in the park?" he asked.  "Varan never told me of
this aspect of arms training."

   Varan gave him an impatient look.  "We don't come because the girls are
here, you dolt," he said.  "Ladies, this is Mannis, my friend, also a new
friend.  He only recently came to Tressen."

   Mannis bowed to them.  "Miladies," he said to the delighted giggles of
Mist, Leetha, and Keeley.  Siska was unsure how to respond and only nodded
gravely to the young man.  Varan simply rolled his eyes at the display.

   "So, will I need to bring a friend to keep company on the morrow?" asked
Keeley, looking at Varan with her big brown eyes, but flicking them to
Mannis questioningly.

   Varan seemed to think about this.  "I had not intended to be accompanied
by Mannis," he said.  "But, I'm sure he would come, if invited."

   A mischievous look had overtaken Mist's features.  "Siska would surely
like to have company while doing her shopping errands for her house," she
said.

   Siska's eyes widened to the size of full mark coins and she turned to
look toward Mannis, her face already reddening with a blush.

   Mannis' own redness deepened as she regarded him, and seemed as if he
were trying to speak.  Varan spoke instead.  "I'll bring him along then,
it's not as if he's got other duties until tomorrow evening."

   Mannis turned to face him, as if to protest, and Siska interceded,
stopping him yet again.  "It may be that he doesn't wish to be saddled with
me, he might have other plans."

   The red haired youth turned again, toward Siska, a look of alarm on his
face.  "No!" he almost shouted.  "I'd be honored!"

   The outburst attracted the eyes of several of the young men, now
lounging in the shade of one of the elms.  Along with a scattering of
chuckles.

   All four young women were blinking with surprise at the vehemence in his
response, until Siska spoke.  "Very well, then," she said, as if
considering something.  "We can meet at four bells?" She referred to the
central cathedral, which rang its bells every hour from sunrise on until
sunset.

   Varan was looking at her oddly.  "Very good, until the morrow then,
ladies," he said, bowing slightly and backing away.

   Mannis bowed again.  "Good afternoon, ladies," he said in a shaky voice
and jogged after his friend.  Siska noted that he cast glances back over
his shoulder every few steps once he caught Varan up.

   Once they were under the shading boughs of the elms with the other lads
and the instructors were yelling at them to take up their weapons and get
back at it, the girls broke into giggles again and somehow, Siska found
herself unable to not giggle herself.

   "I can't believe you did that," said Leetha, looking at Mist.  "And I
thought myself the forward one."

   "Forward for someone else, perhaps," said Keeley, grinning.  "I doubt
Mist would put herself on the spot quite so brutally."

   "Well done, Siska," said Leetha, "making him demand it, there, it seems
more his idea that way, and men like that."

   Siska blinked at her.  "What?" she asked.  "I only wished to give him a
graceful way out of what might be a tense moment for him." She turned a
raised eyebrow toward Mist.  "Though there was little hope of a graceful
way out for myself, had he accepted the offer of escape."

   "He didn't though," said Mist, waving an idle hand and ignoring the
withering look from Siska.  "Besides, you need to meet boys and such, you
can't be all cooped up in that musty house with Master Phillip all the
time."

   "Musty?" asked Siska.

   "It smells of old books and herbs," said Mist, flipping that idle hand
again.  "You'll become an old woman sitting in a house like that all the
time."

   Siska bristled at the insinuation that the home she had cleaned smelled
odd at all, but bit her tongue.  The other girl had only been doing
something she thought kind for her, had she not?  "Well, at least he was
attractive," she finally said, a tone of grudging acceptance coming into
her voice.

   "It's not like you're betrothed to him," said Mist, grinning at the
resignation in Siska's voice.  "It's just a simple meeting."

   Keeley leaned in.  "I'll collect you at your house at the third bell, if
that's acceptable," she said.

   "I'll try to arrange it with Mentor Phillip," said Siska.  She vaguely
remembered something about double exercises being declared to give her this
afternoon free, but would ask.  "If I find my lessons cannot be put off,
then Mist will simply have to accompany you, in my stead."

   That set Keeley and Leetha to giggling again, and Mist tried to put on a
look of disapproval, though it hardly fit.

   The young men were back at their training again, muscles straining and
voices grunting and crying out those odd yells upon attack.  Siska could
not help but watch the red-haired youth now, with approval.  He moved well.
Perhaps not so well as Varan, but well, nonetheless.  He bested over half
his sparring partners, and had even managed to land a blow or two on Varan
when they squared off, just prior to the instructors calling the session
done.

   The sun was lower in the sky than Siska had expected when she looked
away.  The other girls had not notice her fall into silence watching Mannis
train; they were more than capable of keeping a conversation going between
just two of them.  Mist caught her eye, though, and jerked her head toward
where the boys were donning their tunics and speaking before moving off
toward a low building that backed onto the park, with its own little gate.

   She followed the jerked head to see Mannis brandishing a guileless smile
at her and waving as he prepared to turn away at Varan's gestures.  She
lifted a hand and waved back, not realizing she wore an equally insipid
smile until she felt her cheeks burning.

   Mist was kind enough to not say anything, only smile a little, herself.

   The other two girls lived in another direction from the park, and they
bid their farewells at the gate, where the leather-skinned old man who
tended it was preparing to close the gates.  He glowered after them as he
pulled the rusty iron bars across the entry and stumped off toward his
little cottage, just inside.

   Siska felt Mist's hand take hers and looked down at the notably shorter
girl.  "I have to say, I'm rather excited at the idea of meeting a young
man in market on the morrow," she said.

   Mist smiled vaguely toward the streets ahead.  "I wish I could be so
bold for my own benefit," she said.  "I can be brave for others, to their
gain, but for myself, I would have just stammered and tripped over my own
lolling tongue."

   "You like Mannis?" asked Siska, worried now.

   "Oh, no, not that," said Mist, waving her hand in a gesture that Siska
was beginning to recognize as her catch all for negation, rather than
shaking her head.  "But there are lads there that I would not mind spending
some time walking with."

   Siska squeezed the hand in hers and said, "Point one out to me, and I'll
be brave for you," she said.

   They were passing through the crafter's quarter of Tressen now, tailors,
cobblers, smiths, carpenters, and others, tradesmen, who provided
specialized goods and needs.  It was a prosperous neighborhood, if not
wealthy.  At this late hour of the day, with the sun nearing the western
horizon, people were closing up their shops.

   "Miss Siska!" called out a stammering, high-pitched male voice from
behind them.  Siska turned to see Arvid, the tailor, chasing after her down
the sparsely peopled street.  He was clutching a folded parcel of cloth to
his chest and panting when he caught up with them.  "I saw you go by and
figured you had forgotten your dress," he said, breathlessly gasping for
air.  "Maureen told me to chase you, if I sought your custom again, and
that wizards have much on their minds, and cannot be bothered to remember
little things, and it was all I could do to grab it up and catch you." He
inhaled deeply after the long train of words.  "Good evening miss," he
said, nodding to acknowledge Mist.

   Mist stifled a giggle at the little tailor and Siska patted her pouch.
"I've little money, Master Arvid," she said.  "I'll have to come get the
dress on the morrow."

   Arvid glanced nervously over his shoulder, catching a unseen gesture
from amid the people there.  "Not to worry, Miss Siska," he said, bobbing
his head.  "We can settle a tab whenever you like."

   She took the parcel gingerly from him, noting a distinct shaking of his
hands as hers brushed against his.  "Are you well, Master Arvid?" she
asked.

   "Oh, certainly," he said with forced joviality, patting his brow with a
kerchief, though Siska saw no sweat there on his gleaming bald pate.  "I
just worry a bit, you know, customer happiness and satisfaction, all that."

   She nodded soberly, thinking she might now know why he was so nervous.
"Well, this customer is very pleased," she said, then leaned in closer to
him.  "You saw only what I wished you to see, Master Arvid, worry yourself
not about it."

   Mist's eyes grew wide at the smile Siska gave the little man as she
pulled back from the near whisper.

   "Thank you, Miss Siska," he said, backing away and giving her a credible
bow before turning and jogging back toward his shop.

   "What was that about?" asked Mist.

   "A misunderstanding when I ordered my dress," said Siska, duplicating
Mist's negligent hand wave.  That seemed to satisfy the short brunette. 
She untied the thin cord binding the cloth parcel and unfurled the dress.
Shimmering emerald cloth unrolled and revealed the daringly cut dress.

   "Wow, Siska," said Mist, eyeing the dress appreciatively.  "That will
look marvelous on you." Her eyes narrowed in consideration.  "You should
wear it tomorrow.  It would make the meeting truly stick in Mannis' head,
like molasses to a wooden spoon."

   "It's not too daring?" asked Siska holding it up against herself and
looking down.

   "Oh, no, it's daring as one might ask," said Mist, grinning.  "And
therefore, perfect."

   Siska folded the dress back into a bundle and tucked it into the wicker
basket.  "I will consider that," she said, with a tone of finality.

   - -

   Phillip was sitting in the common when Siska entered the house with the
last rays of sunlight chasing her through the doorway.  He had his feet
propped up on a little footstool and was puffing on a long pipe of ivory,
with silver inlay.

   "Well, did you have a good time?" he asked, folding the wide tome he
held in his lap and holding a place with one finger.

   "Good enough," said Siska, wondering how to broach the subject of
tomorrow morning.  "May I ask a small favor?" The way she emphasized small
made him sure she did not think it was truly such.

   "You may ask," said Phillip, raising an eyebrow and pulling the pipe
from his teeth.

   "I agreed to meet a - friend - in the market for tea tomorrow morning,"
she said.

   "Of course, you can go," said Phillip, grinning like a boy of twelve. 
It annoyed Siska that he seemed to know all there was about it, though upon
consideration, he probably knew all about that sort of thing.  He was not a
young man.  "However, you will have to complete an exercise before going,"
he said, almost apologetically.  "And your chores."

   Siska nodded, but smiled, still.  "I understand," she said, trying to
sound serious.  "I'll go make supper."

   "No need," said Phillip.  "I've been invited to a late dinner at the
Tarmal's home."

   "The counsilor?" askes Siska, remembering the younger man from the
meeting in the home of the order.

   "Yes," said Phillip, taking her wicker basket and setting it on a chair.
Siska, however, picked it back up and carried it to the kitchen.

   "That's how messes get started, just setting things down where they may
lie," she said over her shoulder as she put it in the pantry, pulling out
the dress and draping it over her arm.

   Phillip donned an impatient look as she tromped up the stairs to hang
the dress then returned, carrying her tiny double in her hands.  "She was
trying to get at some coins in my nightstand," said Siska glowering at her
homunculi, who looked livid with rage.

   "I told you," said Phillip, chuckling.  He fished out a copper penny
from his pouch and handed it to the tiny Siska, who brightened instantly
and scurried off as soon as Siska sat her down.  Somehow, the little
Siska's robes had gotten torn and Siska thought she would have to get her
some clothes, unless she wished to unsummon her and create a new one. 
Phillip had warned her against that, though.

   Despite his obvious impatience, Siska took a moment to set out some
cheese and grapes for little Siska, on a small plate, meant for a teacup,
and a tiny cup of water, drawn earlier from Phillip's well.  She left them
where little Siska was sure to find them, near the stairs.

   Phillip was still waiting by the door, holding two nondescript gray
cloaks, trimmed with broad stripes of powder blue at hem and sleeves.  She
almost complained about wearing a cloak until he opened the door and a gust
of wind, with the smell of rain upon it, wafted in.

   The islands were prone to rains just after sunset, when the cooling
lands sucked moisture out off of the ocean around them and dropped it onto
them.  At least, that was what she had been told by her mother.

   Tonight was no exception, and soon it was drizzling a cool, but light
rainfall that simply wetted the streets but was not heavy enough to form
running rivulets of water.

   Siska still could not quite come to grips with the idea of walking these
open streets.  Up until the day of her auction, she had spent every moment
of her life within the walls of Mistress Tomasina's estates.  Those estates
had been large, almost fifteen acres, but they had definitely formed a
world with boundaries.

   Despite forcing herself to go out alone, and despite her fears of that,
she could manage it.  Going with another to guide her was easier, by far,
and she wondered how long it would take her to become comfortable without
an escort.

   Phillip paused, looking back at her.  She had fallen behind two paces,
and drifted to his left hand side.  "Siska, you must walk beside me, else
folk will think it odd," he said.

   She blinked at him, coming free of her reverie.  "Sorry," she said,
jogging a few steps to catch him up.  "It's just automatic, I guess."

   "I suppose a habit like that is hard to break," said Phillip, crooking
his arm and inviting her to put her own through the loop.  She did so, and
smiled.

   "Perhaps a lifetime," said Siska, giving him a weak smile.

   The evening rains drove everyone indoors for a while, unless they had
other business to tend.  Most people took it as a chance to sit down,
prepare, and eat a leisurely dinner.  Tressen had a bustling night-life,
most nights, and they would emerge from their homes after the rains to
carouse, meet, and entertain themselves as best they could.

   They had crossed a goodly portion of the city, and Siska noted a
definite saltiness to the air, telling her they were near to the bay.  "He
lives on the water?" she asked.  "I thought only warehouses and merchants
dwelled here."

   "Tarmal likes the water," said Phillip.  "He owns a small ship, though
he only sails it occasionally, himself." They were turning off the main
avenue, which seemed to terminate at the very docks upon the waterfront.

   Tarmal's home was a bare cube of stone, fourty feet to a side and four
stories high.  The ground story held no windows, nor, even a door.  A set
of stairs ascended at the edge of the house, narrow stairs, only one person
at a time could come up them, and at the top, there was only a landing
large enough for two people to stand.

   Siska could not shake the feeling that this was meant to be a small
fortress of some sort, the stairs seemed very defensible.  Also, the
windows were narrow, too narrow for all but the very slimmest of young boys
or girls to slip through, almost like an arrow slit.

   Phillip knocked upon the door with the leering gargoyle that was the
brass knocker upon the door's middle.  "This used to be the tax assessor's
offices, back before the new building went up," said Phillip.  "Apparently,
tax riots used to be a common occurrence."

   A moment later, the door was pulled open, the face of the middle-aged
wizard peering out over his trimmed beard.  "Phillip, Siska, welcome," he
said in a jovial tone.  Warmth poured forth from the doorway and Siska
found herself sweating as soon as she entered, at least until she shed the
cloak.  The entry room was also the common area, from appearances.  A wide
fireplace dominated the far wall from the door, and a staircase spiraled up
and down at the right wall.  Most of the room was taken up by a large
table, though, and a long cabinet along the left wall.

   A woman bustled at the cabinet, obviously preparing food.  "Phillip, you
already know Salira," he said.  "Salira, dear, this is Siska, the
apprentice I spoke of."

   The woman turned to greet them, wiping her hands on a white apron.  She
was pretty, if a bit plump, and had a welcoming smile.  "Hello, Phillip, it
is nice to see you again," she said, then turned her hazel eyes on to
Siska. "Nice to meet you, Siska."

   "And you, Mistress Salira," said Siska, giving the woman a slight
curtsey.

   As soon as she had pulled her arms free of the cloak, Phillip had
snatched it from her and hung it upon a peg inside the door.  "I'll see if
Mistress Salira needs any assistance," she said, and moved toward the long
cabinet.

   Phillip turned to Tarmal.  "You've not asked me to dinner in many
months, Tarmal," he said.  "Why the sudden interest?" His eyes turned
toward Siska, already speaking to Salira and tying a second apron about her
slim waist.

   "Of course it's about her," said Tarmal, shrugging.  "You don't expect
me to pass up any chance to see someone more closely of that sort of power,
do you?"

   "Just so you don't get any ideas," said Phillip.  "I'll not have another
student taken from me."

   Tarmal blushed slightly at that comment.  "You know that wasn't my
idea," he said.

   "You did not help much to stop it, either, did you?" asked Phillip.

   "Phillip, damn it, I'm your friend," protested Tarmal.  "I was newly
elevated, myself, I had no clout.  And to throw myself behind a doomed
cause then would have simply gotten me into hot water."

   Phillip bristled now, though, and seemed incapable of being soothed. 
"And we lost him, didn't we?" he asked.  "That damned Templar came into
Tressen, filled the lad's head with pretty words and sweet honey and took
him away."

   "You know that won't happen with Siska," said Tarmal, his expression
darkening.  "We won't allow it."

   "Allow it?" said Phillip, loudly enough to cause both women to look
toward the speaking men.  "How could you stop it?" he added, after dropping
his voice back to a whisper.

   Tarmal shrugged.  "I don't know, but we know we could not let her fall
into Theocracy hands," he said.  "She might tip the balance of power in the
isles."

   "I'm hoping that she bloody well will," grated Phillip, his teeth
clenched in a forced smile.  "In our favor."

   "Then we're agreed," said Tarmal, "and have no reason to argue."

   Salira was carrying a platter of sliced beef toward the table, with
Siska carrying a bowl of some steamed vegetables right behind her. 
"Dinner, gentlemen, if you can pull your heads out of order business," said
Salira lightly.

   Phillip had no doubt she heard every word, or at least knew exactly what
they had been arguing about.  He moved toward the table and pulled out a
chair for Siska.  She blinked at him a moment before allowing herself to be
seated.

   Phillip reminded himself to make sure she received some instruction on
etiquette soon.

   "Not as if you never dabbled in order politics, Salira," said Phillip,
giving her a mischievous grin.

   "I do not anymore, though," said Salira haughtily.  "I will remain an
auxiliary member, but I will not hold any office in the order, any longer."

   "You're a wizard?" asked Siska, forgetting herself and widening her
eyes.

   "Yes, dear," said Salira, smiling patiently.  "I used to practice the
arts more than I do now, but it lost its appeal to me, in part."

   "How?" asked Siska, her voice rising with incredulity.

   Salira smiled patiently again, turning her hazel eyes on Siska.  "I've
suffered one too many backlashes, dear," she said.  "It makes one hesitant
to go boldly forth."

   Phillip kept his eyes conspicuously down over his plate of steamed
potatoes and beef and even Tarmal shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

   "The men don't like to admit that magic is not for the faint of heart,
and that failure, even that which is survived, can cause one to wish to
hold back," said Salira, despite the nervous looks from the two men.  "I
can still work magic," she said, more happily.  "But I cannot bring myself
to force the matter, to channel through my own limits and reach forth to
take the power I need to do more powerful magics."

   "Phillip tells me not to force myself beyond that which is easy," said
Siska.  "He says it's risky."

   "It is, dear, it is," said Salira.  "Some mages lose their ability to
work magic if the backlash is harsh enough."

   Tarmal lifted his head.  "We think Siska's limits may be high indeed,
Salira," he said, trying to force some joviality into his words.  "She may
be the most powerful wizard we've seen in centuries."

   Salira looked at him levelly.  "All the more reason for her to exercise
care, then, no?" she asked.  "If she makes a mistake, channeling so much
energy, surely the backlash will be catastrophic."

   Siska blinked, sudden fear marking her face.  Salira seemed to note it.
"Look, Siska, I am not trying to frighten you, but the men often underrate
the danger inherent in touching mana," she said.  "I don't want you going
forth with any false senses of security."

   Phillip nodded.  "Perhaps we do, but backlash is part of magic, and a
danger we must face to practice the arts."

   "I'm not trying to talk the lass out of becoming a wizard, Phillip, just
telling her to be cautious," snapped Salira.

   Siska thought a long moment.  "I'll be cautious," she said.  "I've seen
Mentor Phillip's scars from backlash." The livid, barely-scabbed over scars
running across his chest and stomach made her wince, even covered.

   "I hear she can summon a homunculous, already," said Tarmal.

   This caused Salira to blink at her.  "In but three days?" she asked.

   "Two, really," said Phillip proudly.

   Sarlira put down her fork.  "That's quite a feat," she said.  Her tone
marked a little disbelief, but she let it go at that.

   "Siska, would you like to show them your fires?" asked Phillip.

   Siska nodded, pushing her chair back and freeing her hands to move.  She
waved one, then the other hand, and flames leaped from them.  Long,
straight jets of crackling blue-white flame.  "No incantation?" asked
Tarmal, blinking at her as the jets leaped upward toward the high ceiling.

   "She subvocalizes, from what I see," said Phillip.

   Salira just blinked at her, her eyes watering from the brilliant
whiteness of the dual columns of fire.  Tarmal got up and walked all around
her.  "She's channeling almost as much as I can push to take," he said. 
"Siska, is this as much as you can do without forcing it?"

   "No, mentor," she said, concentrating slightly to avoid letting the
flames reach the wooden ceiling overhead.

   "We may have underestimated how powerful she will be," said Tarmal,
leaving his jaw open slightly as he drifted into internal thoughts.

   Siska ceased the spells, letting the flames wink out in both palms and
brushing her hands, as if the fires had left some residue upon them.  The
expression she wore was blank, but she seemed pleased with herself.  Though
slightly tinged with worry, their words had seemed pleased overall.

   "I'd like to see her out of doors, where she can let the fires go to
full size," said Tarmal.

   "I worry that she will exert before she's ready, Tarmal," said Phillip,
"especially with flame."

   "Yes, yes," said Tarmal, "it was just a thought." He still looked at
Siska's hands.  "Fire is an unusual thing to cut an apprentice's teeth upon
Phillip."

   "It wasn't my intent," said Phillip, giving forth a weak smile.  "She
picked up the book and was a quarter through it before I noted what she was
reading."

   "You did say she learned fast, didn't you?" asked Tarmal.

   Salira stood and started clearing the table.  This caused Siska to jump
up to help her.  "Let me help," she said, giving the older, plump woman a
smile.  Instead of back toward the cabinets, Salira was carrying the dirty
dishes toward a door just beside the fireplace and through it.  A tiny
washroom lay there, with a fountain of water pouring into a basin.  The
water was warm, Siska found as she pushed up her sleeves and began washing
dishes beside the woman.

   "You don't need to help, dear," said Salira.  "You're a guest."

   "Please," said Siska, "it was a wonderful meal, and I wish to help, so
little did I help in preparation."

   Salira had her hair bound behind her head in a tight bun, like many
married women in Tressen wore.  She looked over at the ribbon entwined
braids in Siska's long, golden hair.  "Those braids are pretty," she said.
"I see a lot of the younger girls wearing them, friends or something?"

   "Yes, my three friends gave me their colors and I them," agreed Siska.
The smile on Salira's face was a little motherly, though surely she was not
nearly old enough to be Siska's mother.  Or was she?

   The older woman reached toward a scrub brush across the room and it
leaped to her hand, turning in mid flight to orientate itself to the angle
needed for her grip.

   "I thought you didn't work magic anymore," said Siska, smiling at the
brush.

   "I don't go beyond my natural channeling ability," said Salira.  "A
wizard can push beyond that, tap deeper into the mana, and work greater
magics," she said, speaking patiently.  Siska wondered if she had ever
taken a pupil, she had the proper tones for it.  "I only use as much magic
as I can do with little effort."

   Siska nodded.  "I see," she said.  "You make it look easy."

   Salira snorted.  "What you did out there shames me, Siska," she said. 
"You can channel more in your sleep than I could when I was willing to
force myself beyond the bounds of my own ability." She stopped after a
moment, and looked at Siska, her hazel eyes seeming somewhat sad.  "I don't
resent your ability, dear, well, not much, but take care.  Men will often
push far beyond their ability to control, and they may expect you to, as
well.  Some may see you as a resource to be exploited, and not a person, at
all."

   Siska thought on those words.  Surely Phillip did not see her as a
resource, did he?  She could hear the men speaking quietly in the common
room, though low enough to make her unable to hear them.

   "I will not let them do that," said Siska.  "I've only just become a
free person, I don't intend to yoke myself any time soon."

   Salira chuckled at her, drying her hands.  "That is well," she said.  "I
fear for the man who crosses you, for certain." She eyed the younger girl's
face.  "I don't think many men will see past your pretty face, though," she
said, upon considering her a moment.  "It may well be that they see
something other than a resource in you, something different, but little
better treated, in the end."

   "I'll not be anyone's delicate flower, either," said Siska, her back
straightening and her head angling to a somewhat haughty angle.  She rather
wondered where this will came from that filled her from time to time.  It
had happened, on rare occasions at the mistress' manor, usually to her
detriment, but it seemed to be happening more now.  Was she getting
arrogant with the knowledge of her power?

   "Good," said Salira.  "We shall get along swimmingly, then."

   When they reentered the common room, Phillip and Tarmal were puffing on
pipes and regarding one another over a chessboard.  Siska looked down at
it, watching them play.  The mistress had not held to chess, though she had
a board that some of the slaves played at in their off hours.  She knew the
rules, the basic movements, but had only played a few times.

   They seemed locked in concentration over the board.  Salira chuckled and
said, "We may as well entertain ourselves a while, they can be at it for a
long time.  Come, I'll show you around." She gestured Siska to follow her
up the spiraling staircase.

   Phillip moved his knight and widened his eyes as Tarmal immediately
moved his wizard to take it, blinking at the move as Siska moved toward the
staircase.  "Perhaps not so long at you might think," bragged Tarmal as
Phillip lowered his eyes to examine the board at a new angle.

   The wooden stairs squeaked a slightly as the two women ascended and
entered a library that seemed to take up the entire floor of the building.
The walls were all lined with shelves, all packed with tomes and scrolls.
She widened her eyes and smiled.  "A great collection," she said.  Even the
mistress' library had been a paltry thing next to this.

   Salira grinned at her.  "When two wizards marry, they usually bring
their own with them, it does seem quite impressive, though I imagine
Phillip's own is equal to half or maybe more of it," she said.

   "I have seen nothing like this," she said.  "Only what is in the common
room and study."

   Salira nodded.  "And that rat hole of an office he maintains," she said.

   Siska thought about that a moment.  "Yes, I suppose that would make it
quite impressive, if collected in one place."

   "Here, dear," said Salira, handing her a slim tome, bound in worn
leather.  "This was mine, and I'd like you to have it to study from.  From
the sound of it, Phillip has you delving into books best left alone until
you've mastered the basics."

   Siska took the book and looked inside.  The spells there were simple
things, and she felt herself able to cast them upon first glance. 
"Consider them the building blocks that you will build other spells upon,"
said Salira.

   "Were you a mentor?" asked Siska.

   "I've taught a half dozen students," said Salira.  "I know how to teach
a new wizard, even a powerful one." The expression she wore was friendly,
and somewhat maternal again.  "Trust me when I say you need to learn what
is in that, and not just be able to do them, but fully understand them and
what's behind them."

   "I see," said Siska, folding the book shut and tucking it under her arm.
"Thank you." She stood, struggling in her mind a moment, then fished out a
silver ribbon.  "All I have to offer in return," she said.

   Salira took the ribbon and smiled.  "I don't normally wear a braid like
a youngling lass," she said, then blushed.  "Though I suppose I could make
an exception for a friend."

   She unpinned the tight bun on the back of her head.  Her dark hair,
almost black, cascaded down her back almost to her rump as she shook her
head.  It was slick, like oil, in Siska's eyes, and reflected the lamplight
of the room in blue shimmers over the black surface.  Salira's fingers were
clumsy at first, but soon relearned the working of braids and wove the
glittering silver cloth into them.  "There," she said, looking at the
plait, "you got a pretty color."

   Siska's thoughts went back to the old Lebois woman's words and her
saying that Siska would have to chose.  "Yes, they say silver is a rarely
given color."

   "First I've seen, not that I looked terribly closely," said Salira. 
Siska, for the first time, noted that the older woman was not wearing
robes, as she, Phillip, and Tarmal were wearing, but a plain dress of wool
with a linen blouse of pale cream.  "I just noticed that you don't wear a
robe."

   "I don't claim to really be a wizard anymore, Siska," said Salira,
patting her shoulder.  "I'm just woman who can do some hedge magic now."

   Siska's smile faltered a moment.  It seemed, to her, to be sad to have a
gift and not use it, but she held her tongue, thinking it would be impolite
to say such to a new friend.

   "Besides, most women in the order don't wear their robes except at the
house of the order," she said.  "We are given more leeway by the old laws
that men don't enjoy."

   "Oh?" asked Siska.

   "According to tradition, the men of a the order must wear robes to mark
their position," she said.  "In those days, women were only, at best,
ancillary members of the order, and never full wizards."

   Siska grinned.  "A distinction without a difference," she said.

   "Not all look as fine in powder blue as you do, dear," said Salira. 
"Besides, women simply need more variety of garment than a blue robe, don't
you think?  We can't just wear the same thing day in and day out."

   Siska giggled at her, which set Salira to giggling beside her.  "I will
agree, since it is to my benefit to do so," she said.

   "Siska, it grows late, and you've got got to get up early on the
morrow," said Phillip from down the stairs.

   Salira gave her a quick hug and followed her down the stairs.  "Phillip,
make sure you get this girl some real clothes, you cretin," she bellowed
after her.  "You know girls can't go about in just robes all the bloody
time."

   Phillip chuckled at Salira as she kissed his cheek.  "I heard about the
coffers, and know you have the money, buy the girl some clothes."

   "Yes, Salira," said Phillip, taking Siska's arm and guiding her out the
door.  Tarmal patted Siska's shoudler as she went past.

   "Don't let that charlatan set you to anything too complex, Siska, he was
always a rough taskmaster on his pupils," said Tarmal.

   Siska nodded vaguely at all the advice being flung about and pulled on
her cloak.  The rains had indeed stopped, and there were people on the
streets again, even at this late hour.  The night air was chill, though,
and a breeze came off the bay carrying still more coolness with it.  Her
hair whipped around her head as the winds buffeted her from different
angles, bouncing off the buildings about them.

   She noted again, as they walked, the wide berth people cut about the two
of them.  Surely it was Phillip they avoided, she did not remember any such
distance before when she was alone.  "Are you famous?" asked Siska as they
plodded down the street.

   "Infamous, perhaps," said Phillip, chuckling.  "People rather give a
wizard distance, as if we were known for random spellcasting at
unforeseeable times.  They know the rules we operate under as well as you
or I, but still, people distrust that which they don't know."

   Siska nodded, noting the worried looks some folk gave them as they
passed.  They refused to meet her gaze, or else stared fearfully at the two
of them, keeping a wary eye upon the wizards.