Eighteen years before.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

Eight year old Riyan felt her stomach quail as her father's voice rumbled out of the study, and she hugged her knees as she peered anxiously out of the gap in the tablecloth, one eye anxiously fixed on the study's half open door. Warm afternoon sunlight spilled into the dark hallway, and she could see her parent's shadows – her father's short and stocky, her mother's tall and slim - flit back and forth across the far wall.

"Galen, you know what an opportunity this is for Riyan!" There was an iron snap to her mother's voice, one that Riyan had only heard her use at the hospital and totally at odds with the calm and serene tones that Riyan normally heard at home.

"No!" Ri heard a bang and knew her father had slammed his hands on his desk. "I won't allow it!"

"Her teacher nominated her for the scholarship, honey! Can't you even consider…?" her mother's voice was reigned in now, an unfamiliar hint of pleading entering the tone. Riyan crept out from under the table and inched on her hands and knees towards the doors, counting on the thick rugs her father had brought from Ozandil to mask any noise of her approach. She carefully peered around the door frame into the room, just in time to see her father brandish an angry finger at his rigid – and equally incensed – wife, her neatly tied black hair beginning to become undone.

"Consider what? Letting her go into that sort of environment? Don't you know what they did to me?" he demanded, his round face red and tense.

" This isn't about you, Galen!" snapped Rayden Mitali, her dark, almond-shaped eyes narrowing. "And don't you point at me like that!"

" I didn't say it was about me!" said Galen, hastily withdrawing the offending digit. "I just don't want my daughter –"

"This isn't an opportunity that's going to come again!" said her mother, cutting him off. "Galen, she's the best in the class! This would really challenge her!"

"So skip her up a grade! She can handle it!"

"And then what," said her mother. "Allow her to jump forward every few months until they run out of material?"

"I don't see a problem with that!"

"I do! I needed a full-scale curriculum to get where I am now Galen, and I want the same for Ri. We just need your signature!"

Riyan watched her father's face darken and felt a clench of fear. Before she knew what her feet were doing, she was running across the study, tears streaming from her eyes as she collided with his midriff, desperately tugging on his white shirt.

"Please Daddy! I really want to go!"

Her father stared at her a moment, wide-eyed, chewing furiously on the inside of his cheek, a habit she recognized as him trying not to shout. He didn't try to push her away. Instead, she felt one of his meaty hands hug her shoulder, drawing her protectively closer.

"I don't want my daughter learning beside those upstart snots," he said at last, his voice thick.

"I don't care! I want to go!" said Riyan plaintively.

"Oh, you should care!" he shouted, his blue eyes hard. "Every one of those aristocratic little bastards- "

"Galen!" snapped her mother.

"Every one of them," said her father, "will try and tear you down the first chance they get! They can't stand one of us getting into their circles! No siree! None of them know a damn thing about true hard work and I won't have those little shits corrupting the ethics I've work hard to instill into my children."

Before he could continue, Riyan saw her mother's hand snake forward and seize the folds of her father's shirt collar, wheeling him around to face her, white faced and furious as the aether danced over her fingers and sparked through her hair, making the ones that had come loose stand on end. Riyan backed quickly away, plastering herself against bookshelves on the far wall.

"How's that supposed to make me feel?" Rayden shouted, giving him a shake. "Marrying you may have changed my name, but that didn't change where I came from, Galen! You got what you got and you knew it was coming! A magician! Just like me! And you know what?! You have to deal with it, whether you like it or not! And I'm not about to let your damn politics get in the way of Riyan's education!"

"My damn politics? MY damn politics? I haven't built myself up from nothing all these years, only to let my daughter forget her origins! And if I should remind you, you were just as eager to throw off the yoke of your 'del' prefix as -"

"As eager as Riyan is to learn! Gods above Galen, she's a Mitali in name and brain! It's not like the bloody school is going to wipe her cleaner than a slate and start over! At least give your daughter more credit than that!"

Galen was quiet a moment, his expression changing rapidly. But Riyan could see that he was no longer chewing on the inside of his cheek. He squared his shoulders, and motioned for Riyan to come close again.

"You won't forget?" he said imperiously. Riyan shook her head. "I won't forget. Everyone plus me has to work hard."

"And you'll show them that it is skill and sweat that makes a person valuable? Not their name, not their blood." He caught his wife's eye and added: "and that being a magician is just a bonus? It doesn't make you better than others?"

"Yes Daddy, I'll show them," said Riyan solemnly.

"And you won't let any of them talk down to you for any reason?"

"No Daddy, I won't."

"And you'll remember who you are?"

"Yes Daddy."

Galen Mitali put his hands on his hips, blue eyes boring down on her. "And who are you?"

"I'm Riyan Mitali," she said. Then she saw his expression darken and hastily added: "Daughter of the family that holds their friends dear, thoughts near and memories clear."

Galen stared at her for a long moment, then he shook himself and turned to her mother in a businesslike manner as he reached for the pen he kept in his breast pocket. "Give me that form."

As he bent over the desk to sign in, Riyan met her mother's eyes and they both smiled.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks later, Riyan Mitali paused at the wrought-iron gate and stared up at the edifice of the Royal Magician's Academy for Youth with unabashed awe. The building was four stories tall and marble faced, with graceful arching windows that shone in the early autumn sunlight and a gleaming newness that hadn't been tarnished any of the fumes from the passing cars. The school yard was black, flat and smooth, spread with a new type of covering that allowed children to run freely, rather than risking sprained ankles and falls that so often happened on the cobbled streets of Kaigande, the kingdom's capitol. The yard was quiet though, hidden from the street by thick walls of stone and she could hear the chatter of the classrooms through the open windows.

"Are you coming Ri?" Her mother's voice jarred her out of her reverie and she scampered forward to take her tall mother's outstretched hand and squeezed it. She felt her mother hands – thin, and cool to the touch, squeeze back and she saw a small, close-lipped smile cross her mother's face. They were a matched pair today – her mother had left off her healer's coat and practical slacks today, and instead wore a tailored aodai of muted sage green, with her long black hair tied into an elegant knot at the base of her neck. It was nearly the same colour as Riyan's school uniform, a thought that made her inexplicably happy as they climbed the marble steps to the main doors.

She knew from the school pamphlet that her mother had given her that the school had been built the year before she was born – a year after the King had decreed that every child within the Kingdom of Langara's borders was required to be enrolled in formal schooling between the ages of seven and fifteen. He had ordered a school be built to train the best of the magicians that could be found among the population and now Riyan was able to attend the result.

"I never had something like this when I was a child," said her mother wistfully, pausing just inside the main entrance. "We had a private tutor for everything, and my only classmate was Uncle Ramien," she said, her face twisting in a grimace. Riyan knew her mother hated her younger brother, but not precisely why. It was one of those "You'll understand when you're older" answers she got sometimes.

"You didn't go to school with Auntie Ravina or Auntie Rayelle?" asked Riyan curiously.

"They were babies when I was your age, sweetie," said Rayden. "To small for school."

The school hallways were mostly empty, but a young woman in blue approached them, one of the more modern drop-waisted dresses that Riyan loved.

"Are you a new student?" she asked, beaming down at Riyan. Riyan nodded silently.

"My name is Rayden Mitali," said her mother. "And this is my daughter Riyan. We're wondering if you could direct us to the Dean's office."

"Oh, it's wonderful to meet you!" chirped the woman, shaking both of their hands. "I'm Teacher Varsi. The dean's office is right this way."

She led them to a light-paneled airy office, lined with bookshelves, and introduced them to a stern, round woman named Teacher Lyneni. Lyneni asked Riyan several questions, then directed her to go sit in the corner quietly. Lyneni and her mother spoke for an abominably long time about several things she didn't understand. After what seemed like forever, Lyneni rose up from and smiled at Riyan.

"It's good to meet you, Miss Mitali. Now, say good bye to your mother and we'll have you taken to your first class."

Rayden bent down and gave her a long hug.

"Tell me all about it when you get home sweetie," she said, giving Riyan a final kiss. "I know you'll do just fine."

Teacher Varsi reappeared. "Come with me dear!" she said and she led Riyan out of the office and down a corridor lined with pictures of the various classes that had come through the school. They went up a flight of marble steps and that's when Riyan heard it, a sound that cut through her building excitement like a knife through a proverbial melon. A long blubbering cry.

"NooooOOOOooooOOOOoo!"

Riyan stopped short at the top of the steps. "What's that?"

Teacher Varsi had stopped short as well, and she looked nervous as she gently steered Riyan to the right. "Oh, nothing dear."

Riyan peered around her, down the left corridor where the wailing cries were still echoing at full strength. "Someone could be hurt!"

"No one is hurt," said Varsi, sounding slightly grumpy now, stepping sideways to block Riyan as she tried to go around.

"You should get my mother," said Riyan firmly. "She could help whoever's hurt. She's a healer! A really good one!"

"That's nice dear," said Varsi, taking her arm. "But nobody's hurt."

"WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Riyan yanked her arm back, and adroitly dodged Teacher Varsi's second attempt to grab her, sprinting down the hall towards the noise. She heard Varsi say several bad words and the teacher gave chase.

"Miss Mitali, come back here at once!"

Riyan followed the crying down two corridors, before turning onto a window lined corridor, empty, save for two teachers standing over a curly-haired boy sitting on the floor, red-faced and wringing their hands as the boy threw his head back and let out another unearthly wail. Riyan stopped short for a moment, startled – the boy didn't seem hurt – but her mother had always said you needed to check to be sure.

Riyan strode forward, pushed through the two teachers, ignoring their started exclamations as she dropped to the floor beside the boy. "What's wrong?" she said.

The boy squinted at her suspiciously. He was slightly bigger, with a mop of curly brown hair and hazel eyes and his face was tear-stained and snotty, which he had wiped on the sleeve of his uniform.

"Who are you?" he demanded, even as the teachers fluttered and tutted above them, seemingly unable to do anything.

"I asked you first," shot back Riyan.

"Miss Mitali!" yelped Teacher Varsi, who had just staggered up to the group. Riyan didn't look up at her, staring at the boy and suddenly wondering if this was one of the spoiled brats her father had talked about.

"I don't want to do magic practicals," said the boy sullenly. "I DON'T WANT TO DO THEM EVER!" he screamed, swinging around to look at the Teachers. "I shouldn't have to! I don't want to! GO AWAY!"

"Now, your high-" said one of the Teachers, but she was cut off by the boy throwing himself belly-first on the ground and kicking and screaming. "I DON'T WANT TO! I DON'T WANT TO! DO WHAT I SAY!"

Riyan stared at the boy, appalled. He seemed to sense her gaze, and glared at her from under his arms. "YOU GO AWAY TOO!"

"Why should I go away?" demanded Riyan. "I'm not the one who's crying like a baby!"

There was a resounding silence as four people gaped at her simultaneously. The boy reacted first, reeling to his knees and slapping at her. "YOU HAVE TO DO WHAT I SAY! GO AWAY! I HATE YOU!"

Riyan smacked the hand away. "You're not the boss of me!" she snapped, her blue eyes hard as all the Teachers present started reaching for her, protesting.

"Now see here-!"

"Miss Mitali, how could-

"AM SO!" screamed the boy. Riyan ducked the teacher's hands and jumped to her feet, glaring down at the boy. "You're just a lazy cry baby!" she shouted.

"I. AM . NOT. A. CRY. BABY!" screamed the boy. " STOP SAYING THAT!"

"CRYBABY! CRYBABY!" Riyan spun, dancing away from Varsi's attempt to grab her again.

"RRRUUAGGHHHH!" screamed the boy, lunging at her. Riyan reacted instantly, a shield shimmering into place as she swung her arm towards the wall. The boy crumped against the shield and was slammed backwards into the wall with an audible "wufff!" as the air was pushed out of his lungs. Riyan stared at him crumpled against the wall, breathing hard, her hair loose and wafting from the aether.

"Miss Mitali!" an arm hooked her around the chest and she was suddenly dragged backward by one of the other teachers. "You're in BIG trouble!"

"But – but," started Riyan, a clench of fear making her feel sick.

"NOT ANOTHER WORD!" said the woman, giving her a shake. "Ow!" said Riyan.

"Let her go!" a voice, ringing with authority made them all swing around. The teacher paused, and Riyan saw that the boy was on his knees, wiping his face with his sleeve as he braced himself against the wall. Riyan glared at him. This was his fault to start with.

"How did you do that?" he asked wonderingly.

Riyan shook off the teachers hand and crossed her arms. "I practised," she said coldly.

The boy struggled to his feet, and stepped closer, and Riyan was startled to see how much taller than her he was. She stepped back, wary as the teachers tittered and muttered behind them.

"Can you teach me?" he asked, looking down at her. Riyan blinked, then narrowed her eyes. "You won't be a cry baby?"

The boy nodded earnestly. "I won't."

Riyan assumed a reflective head tilt that would have reminded her of her father, if she had been able to see herself. "And you'd work hard?"

"I'll work hard," said the boy. Riyan pursed her lips and nodded. "And you won't be the boss of me?"

The boy hesitated, his face twisting. Riyan started to turn away, but he stepped forward. "Wait!"

She stopped, eyebrows raised.

"I won't be the boss of you," said the boy quietly.

"Promise?" said Riyan, sticking out her hand to shake. The boy took it – nearly engulfed it – with his own.

"I promise," he said. Riyan felt a spark of aether travel between them and smiled.

"Good, because I can't teach bossy boys," she said, grinning.

"Okay," said the boy, nonplussed. "What's your name?"

"I'm Riyan. What's yours?"

The boy drew himself up, squaring his shoulders. "I'm Crown Prince Amendelivan del Enbarin."

Riyan blinked, startled for a moment. The name was familiar, but she couldn't put a finger on exactly why, besides knowing that a Prince was someone noble. But her father's words had rung true. She shrugged.

"Names don't count, so long as you work hard," she said. "Now, I have to go. I want to go to my class. I'll teach you later."

"Can I come with you?" asked Amendelivan.

Riyan paused, and they both looked at the assembled teachers, who were all in various states of slack-jawed, hand wringing amazement. "Can I go with her?" asked Amendelivan again.

"I don't see why not," said the tallest one faintly, after exchanging glances with the rest. "Varsi, go tell Teacher Haidren that His Highness will be assigned to another class."

"Yes, ma'am." Varsi scurried away.

"Now, your highness," said the tallest teacher. "You do realize that Miss Mitali was placed in a higher class than you? It will be quite difficult."

"It's okay," said Amendelivan serenely. "She'll teach me what to do."

"That's right," said Riyan. "I'll teach him."

2: Chapter 1 - Don't say it won't get worse.

Chapter 1

"Arin?" Riyan could hear her voice bordering on panic as she skidded into the applied research lab of the Kingdom of Langara's Royal Rivers University. "Arin!"

A head of spiky brown hair bobbed into view from behind a complicated looking forensics set-up, her blue techie scarves fluttering. "What is it Ri?"

"Where are my notes?"

Arin Londrigan's dark eyebrows knit in confusion. "Notes?"

"Notes! The ones I brought back from Shamin! The great piles of bloody notes!" Riyan felt her arms pinwheeling in panic, but it didn't seem to faze Arin, who was barely taller than a child and possessed nearly the same amount of energy. Even though her major was chemistry and not Machiology, she had boundless patience for her father's assistants.

"Oh, those notes…" Arin grimaced in recollection, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "I think Dad told your students to put them in that classroom behind his office downstairs."

Riyan felt something shift uncomfortably her stomach. "Which of our students?"

"The little ones," said Arin, seeming not to realize the irony of her statement. "He made the first year class unload the trucks with magic today, instead of doing a lab, to see what their skill levels were. Isn't that what he does -?"

"Oh Gods….!" Riyan bolted, not waiting for Arin to finish. Visions of her notes, painstakingly copied and organized over the course of four months, being knocked about and accidentally set on fire by eager first years, was enough to make her feel as though she was going to throw up. She ran down the corridor, her skirts and green scarves fluttering. Visions of haphazard stacks and scattered diagrams danced around her mind as she blew down the stairs, scattering students and staff alike. Reaching the ground floor, she sprinted past Reg Londrigan's office and rounded the corner. Fumbling for her keys, it took her two tries to get them into the keyhole – finally, there was a reassuring click, and she pushed open the door.

The room was bright, with south facing windows that let the sun in, illuminating all the dust motes in the air. On each of the desks were several precariously stacked bundles of paper. Riyan felt her heart rate settle as she went from pile to pile, checking dates and subjects. By the end of the second row, she was completely calm again. Everything was in order. She'd have to thank Londrigan's first year practicum students. It had taken her two days to organize and bundle everything for transport from the research station in Shamin and seeing the work not go to waste was an immense relief. Now to do what she came to do.

She found the site diagrams midway down the fourth row and untied the twine and canvas covering the documents. Extracting them from the pile, she thumbed through them, looking for the particular map that Reg Londrigan had wanted for his next lecture. She could remember sketching the map in the pouring rain, and low and be hold; here it was, still crinkly in parts from -

"Hello there," a deep voice suddenly spoke in her ear. Riyan screeched, jumping back and flailing into a large, solid wall behind her. Papers flying, she felt a familiar hand clap over her mouth and another catch an arm.

"For gods sake Mendel! Don't sneak up on me like that!" shouted Riyan, but it came out garbled until the last few words when Mendel let his hand drop away from her mouth. Dropping to her knees, she began to frantically gather up the scattered papers. Mendel silently knelt to help her.

"Thank you," she said tersely as he handed her the papers he had gathered. He met her stern expression with a grin.

"That's no way to speak to someone as important as me," he said lightly, his arms reaching out for a hug. Riyan felt her resolve falter and she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him, acutely conscious as always of the rarity of this permission. Being Crown Prince of Langara meant that Mendel - properly named Amendelivan - had to be acutely conscious of whom he touched and whom he didn't.

Mendel gave her a quick squeeze and stepped back, letting his hands fall almost casually onto her shoulders. "I've missed you, Ri. I was worried those four months in the bush would make you forget my sense of humour."

"Never, if you call scaring the living daylights out of poor research assistants a sense of humour," said Riyan, glancing at her shoulders, wondering what he was doing. Mendel sobered and stepped back another step, running a hand through his curly brown hair and letting the other return to his side. "Sorry Ri, I honestly am. I heard you were back from Shamin and beat it out here as soon as I could get a free moment to say hello. Did you find those rock piles?"

"They're not rock piles -" protested Riyan automatically. Mendel held up a hand to silence her.

"I know I know, I'm just teasing. But the question stands, Ri."

Riyan smiled. She had been telling Mendel what he had affectionately called her "harebrained theories" ever since their school days. While he failed to take any interest in her pet subject of Shamin's Gates further than what she told him, he always waited avidly for her updates on them and the other studies of her colleagues. He had once told her that it was soothing to listen to someone talk to him about something that he wasn't expected to solve or contribute an intelligent insight to.

"Well, we found two more and they have the same energy signatures as the others. What they were used for is still anyone's guess though. We're going back up there once the rains let up so I can run more tests."

"When's that?" asked Mendel.

"Just after the end of term - What is it?" Riyan paused when she saw a strange expression flash across his face.

"What's wrong?"

Mendel didn't answer. A pained expression was twisting at his lip. The mask had dropped and the jubilance had drained from his hazel eyes, and Riyan felt herself break into a cold sweat – Mendel was never like this – she had seen him troubled, but he normally retreated behind his calm face, his emotions never naked. He had been schooled for years now to hide his emotions. Why was he having trouble now?

"Mendel?" She whispered.

"I'm going to be married," he blurted. Riyan blinked. She had not been expecting that, but Mendel's woebegone expression didn't suit him. He was usually a good deal more blasé about the prospect of hanging his eligibility out like a carrot that most of the young up-and-coming females in the country jumped for incessantly. Eager to curry favour he had said, waggling his eyebrows as they sat on the roof of the palace once, sharing a flask of wine. Riyan felt a wry expression tug at her mouth.

"Should I offer congratulations or commiseration and some hard liquor?' she mimed a quaff.

Mendel didn't smile. "It's to Leonora del Caprioni "

Riyan matched his expression, sardonic amusement quickly remedying itself into sympathetic horror. "Good God, you're supposed to marry that woman?"

Mendel nodded, relief flitting across his face. "Well, I'm supposed to."

Riyan looked at him sharply, suddenly realizing there was something he wasn't telling her. "Supposed to…" she echoed expectantly.

"Well…" he said lightly, one hand raking through his curly hair. "I may have ruined my father's plans a bit."

Riyan took a deep breath. "Mendel…"

"See, I have a brilliant alternative, I thought of it all by myself. Something to save me from such a dreary, loveless existence with the loathsome Leono-"

Riyan didn't let him get the rest of it out. Snapping her finger against his elbow, she let the spell hit him right in the ulnar nerve, the spasm radiating up his left arm.

"Ow!"

Grabbing his collar before he could retreat, Riyan dragged him down so that he was nose-to-nose to her. "What. Did. You. Do."

Mendel swallowed uncomfortably, but his eyes never left her face. He was slowly turning pink, but his training would never let him duck his head. "I may have…slipped-it-to-my-father-that-we're-intimate-and-engaged."

Riyan stared at him, her grip on his collar slackening. "What?"

"I … ah … told my father I couldn't be married, because of a previous engagement,"he said, his customary diplomatic tone suddenly re-entering his voice as he noticed she had lost hold on his shirt. He coughed deliberately and adroitly retreated several paces, rising up to his full height of six foot five. "With the ministers and Lord Del Curilo present."

"Y-you told him w-we're engaged?" said Riyan, struggling to articulate.

"- And sleeping together," added Mendel, suddenly looking a bit more cheerful.

SMACK

Riyan's hand caught the side of his face before she even knew it had moved. Staggering back slightly from surprise, Mendel stared at her, touching his cheek.

"You just hit me!" he said in a wondering voice.

"Damn straight I did!" snapped Riyan. "What the hell were you thinking?! That I'd say yes?!"

"Ah, that was the notion, yes…" he said in a low voice, caught midway between formality and hurt.

"It's just like you to bloody well write a song and expect me to waltz in tune with it!?" snapped Riyan, feeling her hair crackle with static and her hands grow warm. Mendel's hands shot up to ward off the spells developing on her hands and he grabbed the nearest one, blue spell-light dancing off his face and hair before crushing it in his fist.

"You know," he said calmly, his diplomatic mask suddenly in place as he shook the excess aether away, bits of it sprinkling Riyan's face like tiny tingling drops of water. "That's no way to speak to me. I've done you a big favour in some respects."

"Bullshit!" snapped Riyan, planting her hands on her hips. "That's not a favour! My father would shoot me, let alone my OWN opinion on this!"

"What do you think my father wants to do to me?" said Mendel, throwing up his hands. Riyan was unmoved.

"I haven't a clue," she said. "So why don't you get around to explaining what sort of lunacy inspired you to do this?"

"Duty to my people, duty to my country and duty to my heart – as cliché as the last one sounds, Riyan, there's no way I can run this place - " He made an emphatic gesture towards the window, which, admittedly, did not show much beyond one of the many university courtyards, but Riyan took to mean as Langara as a whole. "With someone I don't trust as co-ruler."

"Since when is the Queen co-ruler?"

"The new equality laws, Ri! – my sister and a large faction are pushing them for them to apply for the monarchy as well. Haven't you seen the papers?"

"I've been in Shamin for four months! How the hell am I supposed to know what the bloody hell Maira's up to?"

"True, but either way, it's an important development. An anonymous backer, who I'd bet my life was Maira, persuaded some representatives to present the bill to counsel. They do the preliminary votes next week."

"But – Maira is older than you," said Riyan, suddenly understanding. She had known Maira del Enbarin almost as long as she had known Mendel, but Maira had always been a remote presence. Five years ahead of them in school, Maira had made her disapproval of her brother's more common play-mates clear enough, and in eighteen years, the attitude had not softened, despite her unconventional career path. Riyan shook her head. Maira's negative attitudes on non-Riverborn magicians were well known but it was just like her to ruthlessly push on the one advantage the bill gave her over Mendel.

"She could re-enter the line of succession," said Riyan softly.

"Exactly."

"But she's an Aerial Guard. That's against their vows."

Mendel grimaced. "Both Father and I tried telling her that. Didn't seem to faze her in the slightest, and who's going to speak up against her anyways if she renounces her dragon? If it comes down to it, I'll have to fight for the crown. And I don't want some princess slowing me down."

He turned to her, his gaze enough to make her take a step back. He followed, grabbing her shoulders, his tone earnest. "You're a hell-of-a magician, Riyan, and someone I trust. I'd rather have you as my queen than some useless frilly sop who, well, you get what I mean."

Riyan stared at him, touched by his declaration and also profoundly worried. It was hard to keep a straight face or even to know what to say. Random little thoughts like but what about my thesis? and I'd have to sleep with Mendel? were whirling around in her mind, distracting her from the panic that was setting in.

"This is insane," she whispered.

"I must be pretty insane," said Mendel with a small smile, still holding her steady. "But I think I'm making the right decision."

Riyan looked up at him. "How long have you been planning this?"

"Since a month after you left," said Mendel.

"Why haven't reporters been breaking down my door?" gasped Riyan.

"My father banned them from publishing anything until he could speak to you. That, and from what I've been hearing, you've been sleeping since you got back."

Riyan felt her cheeks flame at the prospect. "Speak - to me? D-d-do I have to?"

Mendel sighed. "Ri, you can handle my father."

"Handle?" gasped Riyan. "He still talks about that vase whenever he sees me!"

Mendel shrugged. "Hey, when you break things, you break them. He got a laugh out of it. Honest."

"You sure about that?" said Riyan, turning towards the stacks of papers she had been neglecting, hoping shuffling the notes into some semblance of organization would dissipate the heat emanating from her face. Mindless organizing usually calmed her. Usually. She picked up the maps and headed for the door.

Behind her, Mendel was not bothering to hide his amusement.

"I'm pretty sure," he said, following her. "Anyways, you go toe to toe with me all the time and you're still here."

"But you can't imprison me for impertinence," said Riyan, grimacing as she locked the classroom behind them and nearly dropped everything.

"True," said Mendel with a laugh. "But I highly doubt he would. He likes you!"

" Likes me? Likes me? He barely knows me! I'm not even that important! Half the people here laugh at me for studying the gates and well – outside of the university, as much as I love my job, I'm under no illusions that a dual-degree in Mag-anthropology and Historical Linguistics makes me useful to anyone in the palace or the Daut"

"Are you so sure? I mean, I could always use you as a translator if I find some sort of sheaf ancient, illegible Langan papers on my desk. Oh whoops, that's the taxes review. Yup, you'd be useless for that. "

"Mendel."

Mendel waved her off, already in full speech mode. "In all seriousness Riyan, you're one of the better magicians to come through this university in the last twenty years, you don't have any ties to political parties and I know you stay out of them because of me and your dad. If you can maintain that sort of neutrality professionally for years, you can do anything damn it. Not to mention that you're my best friend and one of the few people in this country aside from my father who tells me to shut my face when I really need it. Why else do you think my father is even considering this?"

""Because you're stubborn and used to getting your own way?" said Riyan, arching an eyebrow.

Mendel laughed. "Well, there's that as well. But no, I explained my case and given that I apparently inherited my good sense from him, he's willing to listen, even though he probably wants to lock me in a cell for the next five years. Also, where are we going?"

Riyan sighed. "The copying office. Just don't blame me if this becomes a war."

"It won't" said Mendel confidently, pulling ahead of her. He knew the way and being Mendel, could never be one to trail behind. "Father's thinking of offering Beryn instead."

Riyan frowned as she lengthened her stride to keep up with him. "Isn't he only fourteen?"

"Thirteen. Leonora can wait a few years. Hopefully by then, she'll be too old to do anything useful, like breed more of her awful ilk." Mendel grinned as he pushed open the door to the bright, skylit Maliani Atrium, one of the largest in the university, ringed by two levels of balconies and classroom windows. The copying office was at the far end, up one level. Riyan saw several students clustered on the benches and around the upper levels of the atrium take notice of their entrance. She was a common sight here, but Mendel wasn't and with his height and curly hair, he was instantly recognizable, even with though he was wearing one of his plainer outfits today. Riyan heard the low hum of conversation rise to an interested buzz.

"What does your uncle think of this?"

"Well, he just hopes that she overstuffs herself on pastry and dies before it becomes an issue. He said he could think of much better heirs for Beryn to wed and bed. More important ones too. "

" I thought you told me that the del Curilo alliance was important."

"Yeah, that was before it became a prospect of me sticking my cock-!"

"Mendel!"

"Made you blush." He smirked.

"Only because you're being absolutely awful about this. If that's all that scared you, why didn't you say so instead of drag- ging me into – things – Damn it Mendel!" Halfway through the word dragging, Riyan knew she had made a mistake as Mendel's arm snaked around her neck and she was dragged back against his chest, her face crushed against his linen shirt as he tweaked her ear.

"I will incinerate you if I have to!" she growled into the fabric, allowing magic to spark unchecked from her uncontained hand.

"But you don't want to?" he replied. Riyan weighed the benefits of setting his hair on fire. He'd probably extinguish it before much more than the edges got singed but the smell would follow him around all day. Then she noticed that his chest shaking from suppressed laughter. Pushing against him, she managed to straighten but couldn't escape his grip on her shoulders. The back of her neck prickled from the avid stares of their student audience and she struggled to keep her blush under control. Why was he acting like this?

"What's turned you so cheerful all of a sudden?" she groused.

Bing! Bing! Bing!

Mendel's reply was cut off from an insistent ringing from his pocket. Riyan recognized the sound of the old pocket watch before he pulled it out. It was tarnished silver, too delicate for Mendel's massive hands, with a pair of songbirds etched on the cover amid a bundle of delicate leaves. Mendel's expression soured for a moment, but Riyan knew it wasn't because of the watch, which had been his mother's.

"It looks like I have to go," he said, squeezing her shoulder apologetically. "Will you come have lunch with me and my father? Tomorrow?"

Riyan felt a nervous qualm deep in her stomach. "Uh, sure. I have a three hour break between my classes."

"Perfect," said Mendel with a grin. "I'll tell Eldern to arrange a car to pick you up just before noon."

Riyan brightened. "I haven't seen Elly in months."

Mendel laughed. "He misses you too. Dealing with my insufferable demands makes him pine for the quiet ease of when you force me to make my own tea."

"A valuable skill, among others," said Riyan, unable to resist smiling. The warm weight of Mendel's arm on her shoulder transmitted his good natured amusement almost as solidly as the broad grin on his face. It suddenly hit Riyan how much she had missed him, how effortlessly he could drag her from the ticking clock-work of her mind into a rolling sea of her emotions. Yielding to impulse, she wrapped her arms around his chest in another hug, which he returned solidly enough for her to gasp.

"I'll see you soon," she heard him whisper somewhere over her head. Then suddenly, his hand cupped her chin and lifted her mouth to his.

"Mend-!" Riyan's eyes shot wide open and her strangled yelp of protest was lost against his lips. A second passed, then another, before he let her go and quickly retreated, grinning wickedly. Gaping, Riyan could barely string two words together in her astonishment.

"What was – what was that?!" she gasped.

"Have to start acting the part!" he mouthed, backing away. Then his tenor voice rang out – moderated just enough to sound natural, but loud enough to reach every ear in the room: "See you tomorrow, love."

With that, he strode away with a cheery wave over his shoulder, disappearing through the atrium's main doors before she could react. The buzz of the assembled masses reached a feverish pitch. Mortification, then rage rooted Riyan to spot as her brain abruptly spun back into gear. She stopped herself just short of shredding the maps in her hands, but did nothing to moderate the crackling of magic and heat that rippled across her skin, through her hair so that it frizzed and curled and snapped with winking lights of the agitated aether. Goddamn him and goddamn his flair for the dramatic. If this didn't travel up the river and across the country by tomorrow evening, she'd eat her notes. And there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing she could say. Everyone had seen. She was waltzing again and she hadn't even meant to.

"Riyan?" a familiar voice, dry and papery, snapped her out of the reverie where she bested Mendel in a duel and removed his balls with firetongs.

"What?!" she snapped, whirling towards the intrusion. Her boss, Professor Reg Londrigan blinked at her owlishly through his wire-framed glasses.

"Are you alright?"

Riyan forced herself to take a deep breath before replying. "I – ugh – yeah. Yeah. I'm fine."

Reg nodded knowingly. "I'll pretend to believe you," he replied mildly, holding out a piece of paper. "You forgot your class list on your desk."

Riyan immediately felt her embarrassment deepen as she took the sheet from him. "I – uh – thanks Reg. I appreciate it."

"No worries," said Reg, and then, his expression suddenly switching from mild to mischievous, he added: "Now, was that Prince Amendelivan I just saw sweep you off your feet and plant one on you?"

Riyan's face flamed once more. "NO! Yes – I – fuck, I was not expecting that!"

Reg chuckled. "Are you sure? I've always wondered when you'd come clean about that friendship of yours."

"He's just a friend. Who decided to turn completely insane. "

"Oh dear, really? Just a friend?"

"YES. CAN WE PLEASE NOT TALK ABOUT THIS HERE?!"

Reg glanced about and seemed to notice for the first time the army of eaves-droppers staring at them eagerly. "Oh yes," he said with considerably less levity. "You've had enough notoriety for one year already. It seems word got out."

He pointed to the list in Riyan's hand, and she finally looked at it properly and felt her stomach drop.

"I have only ten students enrolled in Intro-to-Machiology?! That's a sixty seater class!" gasped Riyan, feeling hopeless tears well up and she rubbed her eyes, willing them to stay back.

"It'll get better, Ri! I've been telling some of my kids to transfer to your class. Once they realize you don't even mention the Gates –" Reg's reassuring tone was too much and Riyan felt tears get the better of her.

"What's been happening since I left?"

Reg looked her soberly for a moment, then at the two printing techs who had been watching them expectantly. Plucking the papers out of her hands, he smacked them down on the desk. "Forty copies standard, and a projector copy. Bill them to my account."

He turned to Riyan and grabbed her arm, steering her out of the office. "Let's find some place less public."

There was a convenient window alcove down one of the side hallways, with a padded seat and two small study desks making up the window's ledge. Riyan could remember staking out another one like it on the other side of the atrium in her student days, where you could see the old city rising in distance, peaked by the palace and the King's Light, and just glimpse the ocean surrounding the western side. Reg lowered himself onto the bench, wincing as his knee bent. He looked up her, his hands clasped.

"Tomsin and Rinaldi published a couple things in response," he said baldly.

Riyan grimaced. "That's all?"

"No. The dean… well, the dean wanted me – ah…"

"The dean wanted you to what?" Riyan felt the sinking feeling in her stomach increase.

"Ah… um… he wanted to me to testify to your research methods and teaching standards."

A wave of numbness washed down Riyan's body from her head to her toes. She groped for the wall, trying to steady herself as the view tunneled and Reg's voice suddenly seemed to be coming from far away. It was enough to get Reg on his feet, his joints audibly creaking.

"Ri! Ri Ri, I said nothing but good things, don't worry. But it might be better if you expanded on the language paper instead of this one."

He grabbed her shoulder, but Riyan couldn't be sure if it was her or himself he was steadying.

"You supported the gates research…" she mumbled.

He squeezed. "I'm just saying, Ri, It may be a smarter idea, okay?"

Riyan caught an odd edge to his words and glanced up. His expression was more serious than sympathetic.

"Why smarter?"

Reg's expression twisted. "Don't worry about it Ri. If you keep quiet for the next couple of months, this will blow over. They might even take you off probation."

"They put me on probation?!"

Reg nodded. "Harami had to get you on something after you published. You know what he's like. But look on the bright side - I managed to talk them into making it be you had to teach the Advanced Practical Magic course. Without pay, but… it's something you said you wanted to do! You do this, it'll blow over and you can keep doing your Gates research once Harami gets his own ass canned."

Riyan grimaced. "I wanted the APM course for the hazard pay."

Well, you'll do great anyways. Now, I've got a class waiting for me. Can you try not to elope on the wings of passion for me? I don't want to lose another assistant to maternity leave."

Riyan gaped at him. Then she saw the smirk.

"Gods Above, Reg, Do you WANT me to burn a new hole through you?!"

"You know I'm joking dear,"

"You'd better be." Riyan fixed him with the severest look she could muster under the circumstances. Reg grinned conspiratorially.

"You know," he whispered.

"What?"

"In all seriousness, if you do have little royal kidlets, Reginald is a perfectly royal name to give them!"

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Two girls, a disaffected third year augmenting her scholarship with tutoring cash and a nervous first-year, unhappy with her mathematics grades, study in an alcove just shy of the atrium. Suddenly, the low hum of conversation is overwhelmed by a wheezy cackling. "IT WAS SO WORTH IT!" gasps the old man as a he sprints by, chased by spells of sizzling menace.

"AND THAT'S FOR LETTING THE FIRST YEARS TOUCH MY NOTES!" bellows his pursuer, arms outstretched in casting.

The first year peers out of the alcove in alarm, wringing her scarf. "Shouldn't we call the Guard?"

The third years hasn't even looked up. "She won't hurt him – well, not very much."

3: Chapter 2 - Rookie Blues

 

Rahel Lugena willed herself not to fidget, to stand still and wait. It was a hard prospect though. Emotion buffeted her from every direction, waves of rage, resignation, fear, pain, disgust, violence, tempered by less turbulent currents of amusement, contentment and the odd twinge of pride, satisfaction of a job well done. The latter came from the guards. A joke exchanged, a long sought perp caught. Rahel anxiously tugged at the bottom of her dark blue uniform coat, wishing it would lay flat. It was the little things that let her keep her own emotions separate. She would count, or recite a series of poems she had memorized. A tactic taught. Separate yourself from the ocean by deliberately laying out where your mind ended and the rest of the world began.

"FUCK YOU, I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU AND RAPE YOU AND SHIT ON YOUR CUNT, YOU FUCKING WHORE. FUCK YOU! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

Rahel winced as the smell hit her. A handcuffed man looking like he had been baked in his own vomit was flanked by two female guards, one pale riverborn woman, tall enough for her head to brush the doorway as they came in, the other a wiry and wizened woman with Seresi features. Both of them were dishevelled and mud spattered their dark brown boots and brown uniform pants, almost obscuring the yellow stripe up the sides. They disappeared through a door marked HOLDING, the man's shouts echoing in their wake and their emotions, a mixture of resignation and sardonic amusement, imprinted on Rahel's mind.

"You're Rahel Lugena?" A clipped voice at her shoulder made her jump. Wheeling around, Rahel found herself staring up at a man several inches taller than her, with a tidy goatee and a long nose broken only in its severity by the fact that it turned up at the end. Black haired and impeccably presented with Captain's bars on his shoulders, the man's face was icy calm, but underneath, Rahel could feel a current so fast she could already feel her feet slipping and her balance going. Snapping blue eyes – bright enough to be riverborn, even if the rest of his features weren't - only rested on her for a second, before darting about, resting on every surface, on every person passing, before returning to her, his eyebrows rising with an enquiring sweep. Rahel noticed he was carrying her files.

"Oh! Um – ahem – yes. I'm Rahel Lugena."

The Captain's eyes narrowed. "Yes, sir," he said pointedly.

Rahel felt her face flame, and then winced as the stern disapproval washed over her. "Yessir! Sorry! Constable Lugena. Reporting as instructed."

"Right," he said. "I'm Captain Mitali. Follow me Miss Lugena."

Rahel fell into step behind him as he headed for the unmarked door she had seen many officers entering and exiting. She vaguely recognized the name, but Mitali's voice didn't give her a chance to think it through.

"Rahel Lugena, as you are new to this organization I expect you to have some difficulties adhering to the professional standards that are expected here, especially considering what I have read of your records. Now, you are here as an experiment and as such, you are a liability. A liability to my officers. Care to have a guess why?"

Rahel stopped short. The words were like a punch in the gut and she felt her eyes go wide. Was this some sort of test? Her read off Mitali told her he expected an answer.

"Um… Because I'm new?" she managed weakly.

Mitali's irritation spiked and as he turned to face her, Rahel hastily amended: "Because I'm new sir."

"No, Miss Lugena, It's because you're someone's idea of a joke."

Rahel stared at him, her jaw falling open. She had been steeling herself for something like this. Someone, reading capable or not, tapping into her fears. Her instructors had put her through the simulations as best they could without staging a full scale riot. People turning emotions against her, trying to overload her brain, to beat her down, to take advantage, to hurt, control or influence. Usually the scenarios had involved an unusually canny criminal, or maybe, at worst, a disgruntled co-worker. She had thought she was at least somewhat prepared.

But a commanding officer? Especially in this district? Belatedly, she glanced down at his name plate, and felt her stomach contract in horror as finally remembered why she had heard of Mitali's name before. The Hero of East City! Gods Above, how could I forget about this? How could I forget the name that appears on at least two of our Civilian Alliance textbooks and our history of law enforcement text has a whole section on him! But didn't he have a reputation for fairness? Didn't he?

"Why, sir?" she asked weakly.

"You've been foisted on me, Miss Lugena. By the Commander and by headquarters, in a manner in which it was made clear to me that I have no recourse."

Rahel shuddered. Her step-father's words to her mother seemed to echo in her head now. "Don't worry," he had said. "I'll take care of her."

Clearly he had stepped on a few toes to get her here. And it was clear she was not wanted. As per usual. She knew he had only done it because he loved her mother. She had been surprised to be assigned here. She had expected had expected a backwater village, somewhere quiet. She had only expected Yvan's influence to soften her admission to the Academy and it had. The admissions council had stared at her, long and hard, before falling into discussion among themselves, looking at the note that had accompanied her application, occasional glances back at her. She could feel their emotions and they knew it. Two of them were for it, purely for her own sake and she had appreciated that. They had a touch of receivership themselves; they could sense how far her range went. They were officers whose abilities to suss out the mood of a room had saved their lives more than once. They argued fiercely for it. They had not seen a telepath of her caliber outside of a retreat hospital.

The others – six of them – were doubtful – only Yvan's note kept her from being thrown from the room. Spread over the table before them, her drug tests, her long CV list –jobs held for a couple weeks, sometimes a month or two – before something had happened. Some mistake. Some problem. And there was that one ticket, withered from age, dated almost twenty-two years previously from the first – and only – trials she had attended. The one thing that had set her apart from almost every other woman who had taken up this uniform.

RAHEL ALENI LUGENA

RANK MAGICIAN LEVEL - 0

She hung her head. It had to be asked. "Is this because I'm not a magician?"

She felt Captain Mitali's temper flair and braced herself as he rounded on her, every word hammering into the guilt that dug deep into her belly.

"There are over a dozen exemplary officers in this district without a scrap of magicianship to their name, Miss Lugena," he said gratingly. "But there is something that sets them apart from you, far apart. Care to tell me what that something is?"

Rahel bit her lip. She had known Yvan's influence had ended so far as to get her into the Academy. The rest she had sweated out on her own. She hadn't been anywhere near the top of the cohort – not even by a long shot. But she had done that much. She had gotten through. Passed. If just barely. She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, sir."

Captain Mitali snorted. "Really, Miss Lugena, your records said you had had difficulties, but I did not assume you to be so dense."

"I-I-" she stammered. I really don't know!

Waving her folder under her nose, he continued as though he hadn't heard a sound: "Perhaps you missed something during your fast track through the academy, but the officers I keep for this detachment are here for a reason. The Parasi district is one of the busiest districts in the city, if not the country, and so, by default, it is among the most difficult and dangerous to police –"

Blinking, Rahel felt her extremities go cold as a new possibility occurred to her. Maybe her assignation here hadn't been a favour from Yvan. But Mitali wasn't finished.

"-So the officers here, whatever their talents and failures, are still here for one reason and one reason only – merit."

"I'm sorry – I just realized-"

"Silence!" said Mitali. "Judging from what I have seen, both from you and from the commanders, I would bet a good portion of my salary for the next ten years that you are here because you are related to someone, not because you actually deserve a post in this detachment by any stretch of the imagination. Under the circumstances, I must consider you are a direct threat to the safety of my officers."

"But sir, I –" Rahel tried, as the new, horrifying implications began stringing themselves together. Mitali wasn't listening.

"Especially since," he continued, clearly getting into the full swing of his rant. "Given what I know of the state of some of your exam results, I can only assume the rest have been falsified or modified in some way. At best, I am considering this entire thing a farce on the part of headquarters. You will stay near me and do not do anything unless I say so, lest you put anyone in danger. Do I make myself clear?"

Struggling to hold back tears, Rahel tried again. "But sir-!"

"Do I make myself clear?!"

Rahel nodded, wiping her eyes. "Yes…sir."

Captain Mitali eyed her imperiously. "Now, Miss Lugena, do you have anything to say?"

"I don't think I'm supposed to be here either," she gasped, the words rushing out. "You're right - oh Gods above – I shouldn't be here."

"Now that is the first sensical thing you've said," snapped Mitali.

"No no, I mean it differently," said Rahel. "I passed my tests sir – most of them – on my own. I really did, I swear. But I was as surpised as you to be put here – to be put here in Kaigande. I thought they'd just put me in some river village. Or maybe one of the Seresi border towns. Somewhere quiet. But I think if – if what you say is true – Parasi is so dangerous – then maybe – well – the person who helped me – I'm not allowed to say who – wasn't really helping me- He doesn't really like me see – this was a favour for my mum – "

A wave of Mitali's hand shut her up and he stared at her silently for several moments, stroking his chin, his blue eyes darkening. Rahel could feel his mind quicken, but the emotions were harder to pinpoint.

"I see," he said at last. "We shall proceed as outlined until I deem otherwise."

Rahel nodded miserably. "Yes sir."

Captain Mitali turned and with a gesture, Rahel followed him. She saw him flick open her files, but he didn't read them.

"Now, your records state you were born in Heilan," he started, his tone more than a little condescending. "How familiar are you with Kaigande and the Parasi district?"

"Not very, sir," Rahel felt a start of anger overriding the misery, blooming up in her chest out of nowhere.

"Why am I not surprised?" intoned Mitali sarcastically.

"Well it's not like I've had the time to learn anything," she burst out, clenching her fists. "It's still my first day!"

Wheeling around, Captain Mitali jabbed her sharply in the ribs with the files. "It's still my first day, Captain," he snarled. "Lax protocol is not doing you any favours Miss Lugena."

Rahel smacked the documents away. "Gods above, I'm trying Captain, But you won't even-!"

Mitali's lip curled as he tucked the documents back into order. "Your conduct is hardly worthy of a cadet, let alone a sworn Royal River Guard," he ground out. Then he looked up, and Rahel suddenly felt a cold crash of water over her emotions, leaving her shuddering and gasping as her mouth was caught half-way between an angry retort and a laugh. The rage was suddenly gone and she groped wildly for a steady anchor, finding purchase on a nearby wall and leaning on it.

"In fact," said Mitali, his voice suddenly soft, his sharp blue eyes suddenly crinkling in amusement. "Given how little prodding it requires for your emotions to take over is quite alarming for a person with your alleged rank. "

Rahel gaped at him. "Y-You w-were doing it d-deliberately."

Captain Mitali inclined his head. "Now you've figured it out, Miss Lugena."

Wheeling away from him, Rahel clutched her head, as her mind searched. Where there had been a rushing stream in Mitali's mind was now a calm pool, and shimmering and deflecting her attempts to see into it. "But you were so angry, I could feel it Captain!"

"And now?" said Mitali. The winking pool vanished, she could feel nothing.

Rahel's head snapped around to see where he had gone. Mitali was still standing there, his face calm and composed. She reached out again, and realized she could feel hints of it, feel the edges of his mind. Reading her consternation, Mitali nodded.

"You are not the only Listener in this district, Miss Lugena. This is a profession where not having control over one's emotions will get you killed. And since you are also subject to – however unwillingly - the emotions of others, we have that much more of a problem on our hands, do we not? If I'm not mistaken, this has been the cause of most of your professional problems?" He lifted her file enquiringly.

Rahel barely heard him. "But – that's not natural – people can't just shut off –"

"No they cannot," agreed Mitali. "And that shows how lax your mental training has been. I will admit the RRG has suffered from a lack of telepathic officers of any kind, and so TP training programs for anything besides dispatch are somewhat subpar. However, that is not an excuse for your shocking conduct, Miss Lugena."

"Captain, you were manipulating me!"

Captain Mitali looked at her seriously. "As will every other person you meet on the street. And they won't know they're doing it, Miss Lugena. An officer's individual abilities are never public knowledge, except to the courts. No one will cut you slack because you can't shut them out."

Rahel stared at the floor. "If anything, they'd try to press the advantage," she said quietly. She glanced up at Mitali, still not quite trusting his calm and now-compassionate expression. But the question was worth asking.

"Are you a Listener too, sir?"

Captain Mitali's eyebrows rose, and he opened his mouth to answer before being interrupted a drawling voice.

"Gods above, Captain! Don't tell me you're terrorizing the new nugget!"

Captain Mitali let out an audible sigh. Striding towards them was a freckled, pony-tailed red-haired constable, precisely the same height as Rahel, but solidly built through the chest and arms and carrying several folders. Winking at Rahel, he handed the documents to Mitali. "Morning reports, Cap'n."

"Thank you, Constable," said Mitali, his eyes quickly scanning through them. The new constable turned to her.

"So you're our new nugget?" he said, looking her up and down, his grin widening as he extended a hand. "Jem Alteni. Do call me Jem though."

Rahel nearly felt her mind short circuit as the barely checked read off Jem's mind flashed up against hers, full of amusement riddled with unchecked appreciation. "Rahel Lugena," she managed to choke out, not able to keep the flush rising to the edge of her hairline as she quickly tried to blank her thoughts away from his momentary touch. The man was a reader and a strong one.

"Pleasure," said Jem, slapping Mitali's shoulder. "Now don't be afraid of ol' Tieryn here. He's really-" Rahel caught the spike in Mitali's emotions at the same time Jem did.

"Constable." Mitali fixed Jem with a stare icier than the one Rahel had been subjected to.

Jem's eyes bulged in astonishment and a flush swept up his face, intense enough to conceal his multitude of freckles, which Rahel fought to keep from shading her own face even more. One one thousand …two one thousand…three one thousand… she counted silently, digging her fingernails into her palms.

"Maybe, I've said too much…?" said Jem

"I believe you have some paperwork to organize in Archives, do you not?" said Mitali pointedly. Jem raised an indignant finger in protest, but seemed to think better of it. Mitali's face was impassive, but Rahel could still feel Jem's mind reaching out and actively probing. Whatever he found made him decide that perhaps today was not a day to press matters. He smiled as his hand relaxed, his blush slowly fading.

"Briefing at its normal time sir?" he said wryly. Mitali inclined his head and Jem hurried away, disappearing through a door at the end of the hall. Mitali watched him go, a mixed expression on his face. Rahel couldn't read him fully anymore, but she got the sense he regretted something. Turning to her, he shrugged.

"To be entirely fair, Miss Lugena," he said. "I should have warned you."

"What – you mean about him?" said Rahel wonderingly.

"Constable Alteni might lack your range," he said, motioning with a long-fingered hand in the direction Jem had disappeared. "But what he lacks for in distance, he makes up for in brazenness."

"I'll say sir," said Rahel bracingly. "He nearly knocked me over."

For some reason that Rahel couldn't quite fathom, Captain Mitali shot her an approving glance. Tucking her folders under his arm, he glanced at his watch and rubbed his hands together. "We'll leave our discussion of your record for a later time, Miss Lugena. At the moment, we just have enough time for a brief tour."

For such an eloquent man, he led her through the narrow, five story detachment with brutal efficiency. A door opened – "Break room. I inspect it periodically." She would poke her head in for a moment, take in the interior, and they would be off to the next room with the door snapping shut behind them. The place was spare and old, but well-painted and clean. Rahel got the logic fairly quickly. Holding and interview rooms were in the basement – surprisingly well lit, but with a faint musty smell that again spoke to the age of the building. He bypassed the main level to show her the upper three, nodding at officers who greeted him. Locker rooms, equipment storage, weapons storage, the evidence lockers and a string of small offices, including his own on the top floor and a small dispatching room that took up a corner office, its windows looking over Parasi district that sprawled away to the northwest and its other wall plastered with maps and phones. No training gym, he had explained. His officers had to go to the Alti district's detachment or find their own gym.

Captain Mitali led her down the stairs and through the locked door into the reception area. An officer in her late sixties looked up from a stack of papers and smiled at them. The girl at the counter – still taking a report from a pair of teenagers through a protective mesh – didn't turn immediately. Rahel noticed the pair of crutches beside her chair.

"Constable Samadi is our detachment reader," said Mitali.

"They couldn't make me retire," said Samadi cheerfully, pulling a new report from the pile. "I like the paycheque too much."

"Especially since you divorced that bastard," said the other girl, turning towards them. Rahel gasped.

"I'm Constable Amira Al-Massir," said the girl, holding out her hand as if she hadn't heard Rahel. Half of her dark, round face was breathtakingly beautiful – a sparkling hazel eye met Rahel's and half of her full lips grinned. The rest of her face had been burned away, the skin scarred and mottled red and pale and a shadowed and puckered socket where the hazel eye's twin would have been. The scars disappeared into her uniform's collar and Rahel could see that they covered at least her extended left hand, clawing its remaining three fingers. Rahel shook them gingerly and yelped when she felt their grip tighten painfully, the rope-like scarring scraping against her skin. Jumping back, she felt her whole body shudder in response.

"Ha!" said Amira, smacking Rahel's arm with her good hand. "I love getting people on that!"

"Gods above!" said Rahel. Behind her, she could hear Samadi chuckling and a quick glance told her that Captain Mitali was hiding his own amusement. Barely.

"What happened?" she asked without thinking.

"I got too cocky," said Amira, massaging her burned hand as she turned back towards the window. "Now scram, Captain. I've got public to deal with."

Rahel barely took noticed the next room or the one following it. Her mind was still back in reception, trying to trace a read off of Amira. She almost didn't notice the crowd of officers – about sixteen in all – staring at her from two rows of seats. But then she heard Captain Mitali's voice.

"- and this is our newest officer, Constable Rahel Lugena."

"What?" said Rahel stupidly. Several guffaws met her and she came to. So this was briefing. Jem winked at her, tongue poking through his teeth. Rahel felt herself waving awkwardly. More than a few raised eyebrows were directed her way.

"You can sit down, Miss Lugena," said Captain Mitali, gesturing to an empty seat at the end of the row. Rahel hurried over to it, a blush rising up her neck. As she sat down, the constable just behind her spoke up and she glanced over her shoulder. He was slim and dark with his head wrapped in a tight North-Ozan style turban and an eager grin under a neatly trimmed mustache.

"Sir, are there any update on that alleyway groper? I heard we got him?"

"Alleyway groper…alleyway groper…" Mitali pursed his lips as he leafed through the stack of reports in front of him. "Ah, no, he was not apprehended, but we received a new lead. A victim reported last night that she had encountered someone who matched the agreed upon description for the suspect – he attempted to fondle her and she defended herself- " Here, he paused and squinted at the report. "Ah – quite "savagely" in her words.

"Sounds good to me!" said the pixish constable to Rahel's left. Several others nodded and Mitali continued: "Local healers and both hospitals have been notified and we are to be on the look-out for the suspect, who, along with several facial lacerations, is now missing part of a finger and a good deal of hair. The victim was kind enough to turn the finger over to us."

"That lady has some serious cajones!" remarked a large constable in the back row.

"The report indicates that the victim was seventy-six," finished Mitali. Several officers let out low whistles of surprise.

Mitali waved them into silence once more. "I've got today's calls and complaints list for each patrol, which are as follows: Yue, Lyoni – South Quarter and University East."

The two officers that Rahel had seen bring in the vomit-stained man earlier stood and took their list, heading for the door immediately. The tall one, Lyoni, ducked her blonde head to get under the door.

"Alleyne, Baatar – Romalyn Road to the docks." The turbaned man behind Rahel and pixie brunette beside her stood and departed, but not before Pixie had shook Mitali's hand. "Good to have you back, Sir."

Mitali nodded, a genuine smile on his face. "Thank you Alleyne – Roy, Alteni, you're doing the boulevard today."

"Sweet!" said Jem, standing up as a large, curly-haired man took their sheets.

Mitali continued to list off names and patrols and Rahel struggled to marry the names to the faces. In some cases, facial features made it obvious who was who. But when pairs like Zhang and Niu equaled two Seresi faces, she decided that she would make enquiries later. When the room was nearly empty, the three remaining officers approached the dias that Mitali was using. The younger of the two men, a tanned, dark-haired man with a hawk nose and large round glasses spoke up.

"Are you not coming out today Captain?"

"I'll be out in a few hours, Ibrahim," said Mitali. "My absence created a mountain of paperwork that makes me rather faint to look upon."

Ibrahim grinned. "I'll be showing her around then?" he said, motioning for Rahel to stand with them. Rahel gingerly stood up and joined the little circle.

Mitali shook his head. "Miss Lugena still needs some evaluation before I will place her."

Rahel was glad that he had waited for a mostly empty room to say that, for Ibrahim and the other two, a jovial looking half-Seresi man with curly hair in his fifties and a prim and precise River-born woman in her thirties, now studied her with startled expressions, their emotions a mix of disbelief and worry. Clearly remedial evaluation was not the norm here.

Of course not, said a voice in Rahel's head. This was a group of experienced officers. They expected that she had at least spent a couple years elsewhere. They'd expect her to know what she was doing. The River-born woman seemed to have the quickest read off of things.

"HQ sent us a nugget?" she said, her blue eyes narrowing. Mitali nodded and she pursed her lips disapprovingly.

"Well," said Ibrahim bracingly. "Zoya was the last nugget and she turned out fine."

"Zoya was a magician," said the River-born woman bluntly. Rahel's gaze snapped towards her, startled. Was this woman a five? Being a listener may have given her an advantage in reading the mood of a room, but Rahel had always been oblivious to magic. Spells directed at her – well that was another story – but as Rahel understood it, inert magic only be detected by the highest level of magicians.

"Larina," said Mitali, massaging the bridge of his nose. "You've been going through my files."

"Sonin wasn't keeping on top of them," snapped Larina, crossing her arms and jerking her head towards the old half-Seresi man, who met her accusing stare with a guilty half-smile and a shrug. "I had to make sure everything was filed properly."

"I didn't even give you the key to my office," said Mitali, frowning as he looked between the two of them. He shook his head. "But we'll discuss this later."

"Like I said," said Ibrahim, breaking in again. "Zoya did fine. We can manage the field training."

"Zoya joined at summer's start," said Larina in a protesting tone.

"Why does that make a difference?" asked Rahel, fighting to keep the quavering tone out of her voice.

"Lugena, do you even know how many students live in this district?" said Larina.

Rahel shook her head, biting her lip.

"Well, let's put it this way -" said Sonin with a laugh. "You, sweetheart, are getting tossed in the deep end. Enjoy the plunge."

4: Chapter 3 - Cards on the table

The mid-morning sun was warm, but Riyan barely felt it over the wind-chill as the open-topped car careened around the large round-about outside the King's Boulevard entrance into the old city.

"Can't you slow down?" she called over the irritable ruckus of blaring horns and squealing tires in their wake.

"No Ma'am," said the uniformed driver cheerfully, as he adroitly dodged an old-style carriage that was in the wrong lane. "We're running late!"

"Better late than dead!" she shouted back.

"Not when His Majesty is concerned!"

Giving up, Riyan didn't let her white knuckle grip on the seat loosen at all. At least Elly had sent a plain car, and only her long familiarity with the subtle grey and black uniforms of the palace drivers made her recognize the slim, blond-haired man who had waved at her when she ventured out of the university's gates after her morning's class. He wasn't one she had met face-to-face before, but she recognized his ready smile from somewhere.

Traffic was even worse in the old city and more than once, Riyan closed her eyes as the driver executed a daring maneuver that squeezed the car between two vehicles that Riyan would have bet her day's pay had left a too small of a gap for anyone to get through. She hated driving on the best of days, which were out in the country, with no other cars for miles. Kaigande's Old City at mid-day was next best to torture. The city had been originally built on an elevated four kilometre peninsula at the southern edge of the mouth of the Langara river almost twelve centuries ago and fortified for most of it, even as it expanded out into the hilly and sprawling city of 400,000 that it was today.

The peninsula's narrow steep roads had originally been meant for foot traffic, horses and maybe carts. It had only been recently been widened to accommodate vehicle traffic along the main east-west corridors. The driver seemed to be enjoying himself though. She could see his broad grin in the review mirror. Fifteen hair-raising minutes later, they were crossing King's Plaza and the Aronomi Palace's yellow walls rose up before them, warm and welcoming in the glare of the midday sun. But even the midday sun couldn't dim the rotating, iridescent glow of the City Light, high on its slender pinnacle above the palace's dome. Riyan smiled as she saw it. The most visible shipping light on the continent, highlighting Kaigande's position at the mouth of the Langara River, whether you were a hundred miles inland or out at sea.

As the car rolled through Aronomi's south gates, Riyan pulled off her driving goggles and combed the worst of the snarls out of her windblown hair. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door of the car the moment it stopped, not waiting for the driver to come around as per proper procedure. He tried though, managing to turn his own exit from the car into a sketched half-bow.

"Have a good day, Teacher Mitali," he said.

"Thank you…" she looked at him expectantly.

"Ronal Separi, ma'am" he said, swinging back into the driver's seat. "I expect Eldern Lonwyn will be waiting for you inside," he continued, gesturing towards the south doors. Sure enough, Elly was there, dictating into a small Sound Sphere held in his right hand. Riyan felt a smile blossom and the door shutting drew his attention and a matching smile.

"Riyan!" he said, dropping the sphere into his pocket and wrapping her in a hug. "How was Shamin?"

Riyan shrugged, a pained smile crossing her face. "Oh, it's was pretty rainy. Lots of bugs. The usual."

"I expect I'll read about all your exciting discoveries soon?" said Elly, grinning as they started down the hall towards the south stair.

"The newest one will bring the house down on my career, most likely," said Riyan glumly, following him up three flights.

"That explosive?"

"I wish."

"I'm sure Tieryn was thoroughly entertained."

"Actually, he was," said Riyan, grimacing.

Eldern's head snapped around, his eyes wide. "Someone actually had the idiocy to try and attack a camp of machiologists?"

"Our monitoring equipment and food are valuable enough out there for some of the groups in the mountains to have a go at it. Particularly if it gives them an edge against the Chancellor's troops."

"I didn't know Seresi rebels went that far into Ozandil!"

"They didn't before, but think about it Elly – it's Seresi rebels raiding a camp of Langaran scholars in Burtyai territory. No one in Shah Adhaman's quarter is going to give a hoot. I didn't even tell Mendel about it directly, because he'd be forced to take it to his father on principal."

Eldern nodded thoughtfully. "Good thinking. Though I really do hope Adhaman sends a better fellow this time. Ambassador Caseri was such a bore."

"You just didn't like that he would run around in fatigues the entire time,"

"He's never even been a soldier! And they looked terrible on him!"

"And which part of that bothered you more?" said Riyan. Eldern met her knowing smile with an affected shudder and a sniff that told her he wasn't about to deign that question with an answer. Riyan got the impression that he would have sped up slightly to complete the act, but he slowed his pace instead as they neared the section where Mendel's apartments were situated.

"How's Tieryn?" he said, concern shading his tone.

"Doing better," said Riyan. "Not dealing with precinct politics helped. The quiet too. But mostly just not having the daily reminders of Gaedri's studio when he walked down King's Boulevard helped the most. "

"No one would be able to handle that every day. They should have transferred him to another district – at the very least."

"They considered it, but he asked for the time off. It was better for him and he had it stored up. He should have done it a long time ago."

"Are you taking him with you when you go back up the next time?

"Not likely," said Riyan.

"Is it safe to go without him? I mean I know you hire those villagers but-"

"Of course," said Riyan, fixing him with a stern look. "One of those 'villagers' has more fighting experience than most of the palace staff."

"But they're so-"

"Eldern."

"Mendel worries, and so do I."

Riyan felt an uncomfortable squirm deep in her gut and she resisted the urge to pat his shoulder reassuringly. It would tip him off for sure. Shamin had been intermittently bloody and difficult and she resisted the desire to hug herself at some of the gut-searing memories that rose up. The fighting had been easier for Tieryn to stomach. But the nightmares were not something she had had to live with before.

"It was a bit worse than before," she said at last, doing her best to sound completely confident and trusting that Eldern's biases would do her work for her. "But the truth is that while the rebels are fighting men, most didn't have the resources or experience to fight Riverborn magic. They didn't stand much of a chance at all."

"If you say so," said Eldern, frowning. Thankfully, Riyan could see that he had bought it. Or was at least tactful enough to pretend he had.

"Did Mendel tell you why he wanted me to come and have lunch with him and his father?" she said.

"I didn't know his Majesty-" Eldern cut himself off abruptly as he seemed to piece together something in his head. Then he rubbed his nose and sighed. "I told him you would say no."

Riyan smiled wryly and shrugged helplessly. "I tried to at least. But you know how he can be…"

"Oh, more so than most," said Eldern, his airy tones suddenly taking on a cutting edge as they approached the main doors to Mendel's apartments.

"Honey, you earn your paycheque," said Riyan, patting his shoulder. "It's the rest of us who put up with his company without pay that I wonder about."

"Crazy, all of you," said Eldern. He knocked on the doors to Mendel's great room, nodding to the guards on either side. Riyan noted with some startlement that she did not recognize either of them – or any of the ones that they had passed on the way up here. Before she could ponder this strange turn, a booming "Enter!" cut off her thoughts.

She was already sinking into a bow, fingers steepled, as Eldern opened the door.

"May the River bless and honour, your Majesty," she said. Behind her, she could see Eldern's feet retreating and the door closing. There was no reply to her greeting and after about a minute, she risked a glance up through her bangs and resisted the urge to let out a frustrated snort.

King Shemon del Enbarin was seated alone at a small table that had been moved to the middle of the green and gold paneled room. He was affectedly sipping tea and perusing the morning's paper – Riyan recognized the headlines – and giving no indication of having noticed her. Riyan began to internally debate whether an obnoxious coughing fit was in order when the doors behind her swung opened and clocked her squarely on the ass, sending her sprawling forward onto the Ozandil carpet.

Shemon's instant bark of laughter and a startled gasp behind her barely registered over the blood roaring in her ears and the heat washing up her neck and face. Huge hands that she instantly recognized as Mendel's seized her under the armpits and pulled her upright easily, setting her lightly on her feet.

"Are you okay?" he asked, as Shemon continued to roar with laughter. Riyan's mind was blank and her throat was choking. Straining with effort, she forced herself to breathe deeply. She closed her eyes.

"Really, Amendelivan, you need to find a girl that talks!"

"I talk," snapped Riyan, her eyes popping open.

Shemon smiled. "That's good to hear, dear. Now sit down."

The words were a command, and Riyan stopped herself from hurrying forward and forced herself to advance at a sedate pace. Mendel pulled out the chair opposite the King and she sat, carefully tucking her skirt around her legs as Mendel took the seat to her right.

"Now, Teacher Mitali, Your return from Shamin has come in the middle of a delicate situation. A few delicate situations. Normally, considering your background and your father's political views, you would be a most unsuitable bride for my son."

Riyan blinked. This was unexpected. The few times she had seen His Majesty in action in the Daut, he had usually gradually painted a word picture of what he wanted, before sealing the deal with some sort of verbal blow that drew every point he made together. But then, she supposed he thought she was on the same page, thus her presence. The thought made her stomach clench.

"What suddenly makes me suitable?" she managed to say. Then she felt it. The distinct shift in the air as the aether twisted and formed a spell of binding and silence.

"You will not speak of the following outside this room unless spoken to about it by myself or my son," said Shemon, his hands flicking the spell towards her.

"FATHER!" shouted Mendel as Riyan's hands snapped violently upwards, smashing the aether between her palms. It wiggled and crackled, to free itself, to bind itself to her mouth and throat, but after a few seconds of struggle, she finally managed to wrap her fingers around it and it sparked and hissed as it danced against her shielding.

"I will not make a vow on something I do not understand, Your Majesty," she said, breathing heavily.

Shemon regarded her thoughtfully, his lips pursed. "You are skilled."

Riyan's irritation spiked and she crushed the spell in her hand.

"Which is one of the reasons why I'm here, or so I was led to believe," she snapped, shaking her hand and letting the wafting bits of aether escape in all directions. Mendel brushed them away before they binded with his coat.

"I must admit," she continued, "this whole thing is rather puzzling, considering I'm foggy on politics and I'm not in the slightest doubt about my unsuitability. So if there's a real reason for why I've been dragged in here Your Majesty, I'd much prefer-"

"Silence."

Riyan bit her lip and glared at the King. Unsurprisingly, his gaze met hers steadily.

"As mentioned before, you are a most unsuitable bride," he said. "And before you roll your eyes at me, understand that this is actually an advantage to us at this point, Teacher Mitali."

Despite herself, Riyan was curious. "How so?"

Shemon stretched expansively and cracked his knuckles, as though readying himself for something. "At the moment, all of the current offers of marriage for my son come from either the local nobility or from Ishtal and Ozandil. Now, I would assume you can understand why we would shy away from allowing one of the Families to over balance the others?"

Riyan nodded. She could imagine what some of her mother's noble del Antrose relatives would do to have their daughters considered by the crown.

Shemon smiled. "I thought you would. On the other hand, both Ishtal – which is an unpopular choice anyways - and Ozandil both have proposals that come with distinctly awkward trade agreements involving the river"

"And you don't want to strain relations with Manjing," said Riyan, some light finally beginning to dawn as she thought back to what she had learned early on as a child. The treaty between Langara and Seres - the country to the north east where the Langara river originated - was simple. They had exclusive privileges to tax-free movement up and down the river in each other's countries. Every other nearby country - Ozandil, Ishtal and Nereth - had to pay through the nose for travel and shipping rights. Since the (extremely) wide and deep Langara was the only navigable water to the interior of this side of the continent, to say it made up the economic and spiritual backbones of both countries was a vast understatement.

"Precisely. That and other more… complex reasons."

"Which are?" said Riyan archly.

"Well, I think there'd be a sharp decline in my approval ratings should Chancellor Zhuang and his cohorts declare war and burn us from north to south."

Riyan blinked. The King had been totally deadpan, but she recognized the twinkle in his eye from Mendel.

"We wouldn't want that," she said faintly, nonplussed.

"That we wouldn't," he said with a chuckle.

"So you want me to marry Mendel to take him out of the running for all of these unwanted proposals," said Riyan slowly, turning the thought over in her head. The cold logic of it made sense to the part of her brain that also ruthlessly exploited the del Antrose name to get the Ozandil permits and always kept several ounces of silver on hand to grease the local shamans when she was digging around in their burial grounds.

"Publically, yes," Said Shemon.

"Privately, there's three reasons why we asked you," said Mendel earnestly.

Riyan raised her eyebrows at him. "Only three?" she said. She didn't even get started on the "we".

He met her jab with a faint smile, but Shemon ploughed on as though he hadn't heard it.

"First, you are loyal to my son", he said, ticking off his fingers authoritively. "Second, is that while you have – ahem - interesting political connections through both your parents, you can maintain your loyalties to both parties without conflict. And third, as I have just witnessed, you are a powerful magician."

Riyan heaved a deep sigh. "Your Majesty, the only reason I've been able to keep my political affiliations without any flak is because my father hasn't "officially" figured out that Mendel is a nickname for Amendelivan. And that's not even getting into my personal and professional reluctance to even consider this."

This time, she could tell she had startled the old man. He blinked at her owlishly for a moment, then looked at Mendel, who nodded in confirmation.

"Do you mean to say –"

"Your Majesty, my father is not stupid. He knows who Mendel is. But it's easier for his political integrity to turn a blind eye to my friends. It's far easier for him to refer to Mendel by his nickname than to admit officially that his daughter is… ah… fraternizing with the enemy, if you catch my drift."

"I don't think many in the party even know who I am Father," said Mendel. "They're not in the business of encouraging my succession anyways."

"He's gets enough grief about Mother, and that's even when she's renounced her title," said Riyan. "Me marrying the heir apparent? I'm not even sure how he'd manage the circus over that. "

Shemon looked thoughtful. "So this proposal puts you in a far more delicate position than I assumed."

"Delicate? You could shatter it with a feather," snorted Riyan. "Which brings us back to why this ridiculous notion was even proposed – "

An abrupt wave of Shemon's hand and something in his face silenced her.

"Three months ago, my brother Renol's wife, the Princess Sofia, attempted to have him, myself and Amendelivan assassinated."

A freezing chill swept down Riyan's body, and she felt herself choking, unable to form a sound beyond the whoosh of all the air in her body leaving in an instant and a shaking hand reached convulsively for Mendel's. He wrapped her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. They waited quietly as she wiped her eyes and took a few shuddering breaths.

Finally, she could speak. "Why hasn't Sofia been charged?"

"Princess Sofia," said Shemon "has been confined to her apartments under a twenty four hour guard. However, we have reason to believe that the attacks, while engineered by the Princess, were done under mental and magical duress. We cannot be sure though, as she dissolved into complete madness on the night in question and is no more fit to stand trial than the chair I'm sitting on."

"Gods above," said Riyan, flinching at the thought.

Mendel squeezed her hand again, tighter this time. "Ri, you're one of the only people we can trust."

"Because I've been away for so long," said Riyan faintly.

"Precisely," said Shemon. He pulled out his pocket watch and frowned at it. "Now, I have business elsewhere. Amendelivan, I trust you will fill her in on the details?"

"Yes Father," said Mendel, rising with his father and belatedly, Riyan jumped to her feet as well. Shemon nodded to them both.

"It was good to be formally introduced, Teacher Mitali. I have heard many things to your credit and I appreciate you coming here."

Riyan thought it prudent to not mention that it was hard to turn down a direct invite from the King, but blushed regardless. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

She turned to Mendel the second the door closed behind Shemon. "There was nothing in your letters!"

Mendel avoided her eyes, but his hand tightened on hers. "Father forbade it. It was too great a risk."

"So you've basically been pretending that nothing's happened?"

"Something like that," said Mendel wryly.

"You could have died!"

"The RRG are investigating, Ri. Discreetly, of course. I mean, the knife didn't even hit –" He paused, registering the expression on her face. "-uh, didn't even get me at all."

"Where?"

"I said it didn't get me."

"WHERE?!"

Mendel sighed and unbuttoned his jacket, shrugging off the left arm to reveal a short sleeved tunic underneath. A thin scar, a hand span in length, stretched from the inside of his bicep to just below his elbow. "Didn't even hit anything vital. It seems I'm tough to kill. Being too awesome and all that."

"You're lucky it didn't hit the artery," said Riyan bluntly, grabbing his arm and maneuvering it so she could inspect the scar closely.

"That's what Healer Harin said," said Mendel shrugging her away and pulling his jacket back on.

"You know, I came here to tell you I wouldn't do it."

Mendel's gaze snapped towards her, and his expression was solemn. "And Now?"

"I don't know," said Riyan, looking out the window. "I really don't."

She felt her stomach rumble audibly and they both looked at it.

"Wasn't there supposed to be lunch or something?" she said wryly.

Mendel frowned. "Neither Father nor I were hungry. And I figured you wouldn't be after hearing this."

"You'd be right, only I didn't get breakfast."

"I'll send for something," Mendel started for the door, but Riyan touched his arm to stop him.

"It's alright. It probably wouldn't stay down anyways. How is Beryn holding up with all this?"

Mendel winced. "Not so well. That's why Tuyan isn't looking after your cats. I sent him north to Livadia with Beryn and some of his school friends. Father thought it would distract him from his brooding – He found us just after the attack. He wanted to stay and see to his parents. But we… I… made sure he went. It got pretty ugly, but it's in his best interest."

"Well, at least we know Tuyan will keep him safe. Too bad you couldn't keep him here though. Not much would have gotten past Diri. "

"I can't stand his ghosts," said Mendel, affecting a shudder.

"Diri isn't just a ghost Mendel, shamans deal with-"

"Skip the lecture this time. Look, it'd be useless to have him around, because we'd end up murdering each other anyways."

Riyan rubbed the bridge of her nose. "You know Mendel, if you just tried -"

"At least your first language is Langan. I don't even remember what language he spoke."

"It was Ralic," said Riyan with a sigh. "With the plain's nomad's grammar. He's half and half remember?"

"Vaguely."

"Anyways, Diri's a family spirit. I told you that you couldn't speak to her that way."

"I didn't know she was going to throw milk in my face!"

Riyan decided the argument was moot. "Mendel. I'd better go. My next class is in two hours and I need to think."

"I'll get Elly to find an escort for you."

"I don't need an escort, Mendel!"

Mendel's expression didn't change much. But he took her hand. "Please Riyan. You know I can't force it, but I don't want anything to happen to you."

Riyan pulled the hand back. But she knew he was letting her see his worry, his concern. Master statesman that he was, she was fairly certain he was hoping that not letting her leave with a customary joke, he was affecting her resistance to the situation. And damn it, it was. Gathering her resources, she shook her head.

"Mendel, it's not going to look good if I come in here if I come in with no escort and leave with one. People will know something's changed."

"At this point Ri, I don't give a damn what people think. I just want you safe."

"Since when have you ever had to worry about me not being able to defend myself?"

"Since I got stabbed in the arm and nearly lost my Uncle," snapped Mendel. "If you remember correctly, we're all pretty damn good magicians ourselves."

This time Riyan saw it in his hazel eyes, behind the anger, the deep, raw fear. And she wondered how much had changed since she had last seen her friend six months ago. Taking a step towards him, cautiously, she wrapped her arms around his chest.

"It's okay Mendel… I'll take the escort."

She felt him sag with relief and only just barely heard the "Thank you" he whispered into her hair.

5: Chapter 4 - Wings Aloft

Chapter 4

700 KM TO THE NORTH. SILIKAMEEN VALLEY AND THE ISHTAL BORDER.

"Hold on for the next one, boys!"

"WAHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOO!"

Tuyan Danzen grinned as the young prince's joyous shouting reached his ears over the roar of the wind. He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing Beryn and the other boy, his much quieter and (in Tuyan's opinion) preferable charge, Devyn del Tazari. Both boys were wide eyed and clutching their harnesses through layers of wraps and warm clothing. Nothing quite like his own insulated uniform coat, but good enough, considering the circumstances.

"Next up, we call this one a Falling Leaf !" He shouted over the wind. Madrion dipped her wing and started a steep spiraling dive, straight for the valley's floor over a thousand feet below.

"HAHAHAHHAHAHAAA!"

"OH GODDDDSSSSSSSSS!"

Quick as they had dropped, Madrion pulled out of the dive, her wings pumping hard to regain altitude and her mind-glow wry as her muscles burned with the effort. The boys combined didn't weigh much more than Tuyan did on his own, but he had had to bribe her with some choice horse meat in order to convince her to even greet the boys once she had sussed out what he was after. She was getting tired and she wasn't the only one.

"THIS. IS. AWESOME!" bellowed Beryn, following it up with an unearthly shriek. "LET'S DO IT AGAIN!"

Tuyan raised his eyebrows at the prince, then glanced at the other boy. Devyn was looking less than thrilled at the prospect and after almost an hour in the air, he had a distinctly green tinge.

"I think Dev needs a break, Beryn!"

Prince Beryn looked at his friend as Madrion wheeled around and started north, giving them a brilliant view of the rolling hills of Ishtal just to the east beyond the valley's edge and the faint glimmering vastness of the ocean beyond it. "Oh alright!" he called. "Maybe tomorrow?!"

"We'll see!" called Tuyan as Madrion settled into a comfortable pace for Livadia Castle.

"Come on Tuyan! This is just what I needed!"

"Keep in mind Beryn, I went against your cousin's direct orders!"

"Awwww Mendel doesn't know what he's talking about!"

Tuyan resisted the urge to laugh at the keenness of the boy's insight and managed to keep his voice level and appropriately dutiful as he shouted over the wind. "He's keeping you safe, Beryn. You ought to remember that. I know you two were planning to sneak –"

"What's that?!" Devyn's shout caused Tuyan to wheel around towards him, only to realize the bespectacled boy was pointing to the east, pushing his glasses (already tied securely around his head) closer to his face. Tuyan followed the boy's gaze and felt his throat go dry.

=Madrion!= He bellowed through their mental link. =East!=

Madrion, who had been enjoying the change of pace, was startled as he as she turned her great golden eyes on the eastern horizon, her wings angling to bring her around. Suddenly, they were tumbling end over end, Madrion roaring as her wings were sheered backwards and the boys screaming as the turbulence hit them. Madrion regained her level quickly, pulling upright and flapping hard as it passed over them. Tuyan risked a glance behind and saw the wave of air take out a couple of birds unfortunate enough to be in the way. They tumbled as well, spiralling towards the surface.

"What was that?!" demanded Devyn.

"We gotta check it out!" cried Beryn.

Tuyan rounded on the prince. "We're checking out nothing! Your safety comes first, Prince Beryn!"

Then the image ripped through his head, and Tuyan felt his insides go numb and uncomprehending tears pooled at the inside edges of his goggles as the mental picture Madrion shared with him sharpened and came into focus. It was warped by the extra colours that the dragons could see and men could not, but the image still seared into his mind. He could not believe what he was seeing.

Heilan, Ishtal's capitol, lay almost four hundred clicks to the east, and the last time Tuyan had laid eyes on it, its twelve great glass and iron-work towers - one for each of the twelve original tribes of the Ish - had glittered in the sunlight, standing tall above the mostly stone and brick city. The picture he saw now was skewed and hazy, but the magnificent structures were nowhere to be seen. Instead, glimmers of irridescent white light, of what Tuyan had come to recognize as Madrion's visual interpretation of heat and distant fires, danced along the bottom of vast clouds of black smoke. For them to be seen from this distance meant the flames must have been immense.

"Gods above," he whispered.

"What's happened?" called Beryn.

"The towers are gone. Everything's been burned," Tuyan's honest answer came without thought. In truth, he could barely process it himself.

"WHAT?!"

"Madrion can see that from this far away?!" demanded Devyn.

Tuyan pushed Madrion into a 180 degree turn, one that she was only too eager to do. "We're getting out of here!"

"But Castle Livadia is that way!" yelped Beryn, pointing to the north.

"We're not going to Livadia!" snapped Tuyan. "I need to report to the Air Commander in Haidala City."

"We're going to the Aerial Guard station?!"

Tuyan could feel Beryn's excitement override his shock and sighed. The boy was still too young to understand.

"Only for a bit. Then we're going back to Kaigande as fast as Madrion can go!"

"But what about Castle Livadia? Our stuff?"

"Nothing is more important than getting you boys away from – whatever that was!"

Twenty minutes later, they had made a heavy landing in the AG receiving yards and had been directed into an empty holding berth, thick with fresh straw. Tuyan had swung off, quickly releasing the boys from their harnesses and helping them down from Madrion's massive sides as a station attendant offered Madrion several selections of raw meat from a rolling trolley.

=Stay here!= he called to her. Absorbed by her meal, she audibly grunted in response. But Tuyan knew she would stay put. His other charges, he was not so sure about.

"Come with me," he said firmly.

"But Tuyan! We have to stay in Livadia! Mendel said so!" said Beryn, loping along easily beside him.

"You were certainly eager to go against Mendel's instructions earlier!" snapped Tuyan. "Don't give me that bullshit. Your safety comes first."

Beryn blinked, unaccustomed to being sworn at.

Devyn took advantage of the momentary silence to pipe up. "Look Beryn, if something is big enough to take out the Towers, I sure don't want to be near it."

Beryn shot his friend a glare and the larger boy shrugged. "Just saying."

"Devyn's talking sense," said Tuyan, pushing open the door to the main administrative building. He gestured to the benches flanking the door. "Now sit there and stay put."

"You call this a waiting room?" snorted Beryn, staring around the spartan and empty reception area.

"It does the job. Now sit." Tuyan dispensed with royal protocol and bodily steered the boys onto the benches. "I'm going to report to the Air Commander. If I don't find you boys here when I get back, there's going to be hell to pay and I don't care what Mendel says."

He waited until the boys were firmly seated and strode down the hallways to the Air Commander Arzen's office. He had never met Shirai Arzen in person before, but knew she flew a Star-eye like Madrion. He knocked firmly on the door.

"Come in!"

Tuyan pushed door open. A slim, red-haired woman in her late thirties looked up from a huge stack of correspondence.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, upon seeing him. "Why aren't you up with the others?"

"I'm from the Kaigande detachment, ma'am. Here with Prince Beryn."

"Oh. The royal babysitter. Dusan is it? " snorted Arzen as she scribbled a reply to the telegraph she had been reading and handed it off to the clerk who appeared at her elbow. Tuyan could hear the chattering of a telephone and the graph in the next room.

"Lieutenant Tuyan Danzenn, ma'am."

"Apologies. Still, get up there with the rest of them. I need every pair of available eyes aloft"

"I need to take the prince back to Kaigande."

Arzen fixed him with a narrow look. "Has the King ordered him back?"

Tuyan blinked. "Well, no…"

"Then I need you here. Until orders come from HQ saying otherwise, your ass is mine."

"Prince Amendelivan said –" he started, feeling stupid even as he made the protest. Mendel's words were getting bandied about a lot today.

"I don't give a shit what he said," snapped Arzen, writing and handing off another memo. "He's an arrogant and supercilious asshole who hasn't done a day's work on the borders – or anywhere – in his life. Get out that door, get on your dragon and get in the air!"

Tuyan decided at that moment, that he quite liked Arzen. However, that didn't change his priorities at the moment. "With all due respect, I have Prince Beryn here in the complex with me. I would not feel comfortable taking him aloft again, given what we saw."

Arzen froze. "You witnessed …?"

Tuyan nodded and Arzen made an impatient gesture towards her own head, one of a Reader waiting to receive. Tuyan showed her the image that Madrion had given him and he saw her blue eyes go wide in shock.

"We had two patrols aloft," she said, her face pale. "But none of them were stareyes. Is this Heilan?"

"I think so, ma'am, but I cannot see the towers. It's hard to be sure."

"The Ishtal border warden doesn't know either," said Arzen, waving a message that had been in her pile. "But he says he can't raise the Capitol and hasn't a clue what caused the atmospheric disturbance. I'd like you to leave the prince here. We can look after him for a couple hours."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to take this image to Warden Kollek. See if he or one of his staff can interpret it."

Tuyan blinked. He had known the Ishtal border security was more relaxed than most, but sharing any dragon sense intel was illegal, the last time he checked. Arzen correctly interpreted his consternation and smiled wanly.

"I've been working with Warden Kollek for the past four years, Lieutenant. We've found it much easier to share resources and intel freely. It's easier than posturing and gets more done than if we followed our orders from Kaigande to the letter."

Tuyan pursed his lips and nodded reluctantly. "Yes, ma'am."

"Once you're done, we'll send you to Kaigande. HQ will want your stareye's testimony. Now get out of here. Dismissed."

Tuyan spun on his heel and strode out of the room without further protest. His experience wasn't on the border, but he could appreciate her methods. It's not like he had been entirely following his orders either, he thought wryly. He turned the corner into reception room and stopped short. The room was empty.

"FUCK!" He bolted for the door.

  ~~~~~

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DIDN'T STOP THEM?!"

The gate warden, despite being a good six inches taller than Tuyan, blanched under his livid gaze.

"They were leaving!" he protested. "Clearly they'd already had the authorization to be here! I only stop civvies from coming in!"

"Didn't you think they were YOUNG?! You didn't even QUESTION THEM?!'

"I just waved them out! The curly-haired one thanked me for doing such a good job." The gate warden paused, his green eyes narrowing in consternation. "He seemed pretty lordly about it."

Tuyan lost the remaining shreds of his temper. "THAT'S BECAUSE HE WAS PRINCE GODSDAMNED BERYN DEL FUCKING ENBARIN!"

"Ohhhhh shit." The gate warden finally seemed to understand the magnitude of Tuyan's agitation. Not that it would do him any good. He had spent a good fifteen minutes searching the compound before it had occurred to him to ask the gate warden and now that twenty minutes had passed, Beryn and Devyn could be anywhere – anywhere! – in Haidala City and he knew if he tried searching on his own, he would end up hopelessly lost. He had never been posted here and Haidala was the major intersection between Ishtal and the rest of Langara on this side of the border.

Spinning on his heel, he ran back to the administration building.

"What are you still doing here?" demanded Commander Arzen after he nearly ran her over just outside of her office.

"They're gone! The fucking kids took off on their own!"

Arzen groaned. "Fantastic."

"I don't know the city! I don't know where to even start looking!" said Tuyan, throwing his arms in the air.

Arzen rubbed the bridge of her nose, and sighed heavily. "Normally, this would be a priority, and I'd grab a patrol to help you. But we've got bigger fish to fry and everyone is already in the air."

Tuyan nodded. "Don't call them back for this," he said with a sigh. "I'll figure something out."

"No no," said Arzen. "I have someone who can help you. Not my first choice for someone to assist you, but she knows the city."

"I'll take anything at this point, ma'am."

Arzen met him with a wry smile. "Your choice of words, lieutenant. Not mine."

She leaned back into her office. "Find Kailing and get her in here!"

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

"You know this is going to get us in so much trouble," said Devyn del Tazari, wringing his hands.

"Shut up Dev, it was a golden opportunity. Have you ever been to Haidala city before?!" Beryn gestured expansively across the bustling canopied market. "It's awesome!"

Devyn had a hard time protesting that point. The Haidala City Markets were one of the most famous commerce grounds in the country. It's only rival was the Old City Market in Kaigande, but while Beryn had found the Old City Market's mishmash of colour and culture to be overwhelming, the grounds of Haidala's market were warm and welcoming and not nearly as noisy. The buzz of the various Ishtal dialects fell on the ear almost as often as Langan did and the overall atmosphere was one of cheerful, if slightly pushy commerce.

"You boys look thirsty!" A mug of delicious smelling cinnamon cream tea was thrust into Devyn's line of vision and he stared at crossed eyed before being able to focus on the old lady that wielded it. She was smaller than he was, about Beryn's size, and her crinkled brown eyes smiled up at him through her veil. "One mug for one den. Refills half priced, dearie." She winked. "Because you will want more."

"One for both of us!" said Beryn, digging out coins. Devyn winced when he saw that they were gold marks , instead of the copper den that his father had always warned him to use when he went into the markets. The old woman's eyes widened when Beryn dropped two marks into her hand.

"Laddies, I don't have change for this," she said nervously.

"Don't worry about it," said Beryn expansively as he knocked back his mug. "Just give us another one!"

The old woman refilled their mugs, muttering to herself and looking at them sideways. Devyn finished his quickly and pulled Beryn along once the prince had finished. The old woman waved as they lost her in the crowd, but Devyn could hear a "Thank you dearies!" float over the din. Before long, they had accumulated several more Ishtal snacks, a curved Ozan sword (which the merchant had insisted be peace-bound, and Devyn had kicked Beryn solidly before he could protest), and a beautifully woven veil that Beryn had folded carefully and tucked into a leather satchel that he had acquired as well.

"So, where to next?" said Beryn happily, munching on a fried matzi pastry. Devyn, who had been carefully tucking a knife he had bought from the sword-seller into his boot, shrugged.

"Maybe it's time to head back to the compound, Ber," he said. "We've been buying a lot of stuff."

"Well, I've been buying a lot of stuff," said Beryn with a laugh, looking at Devyn's nearly empty hands. "Gods above Dev, we're in one of the best markets in the world and you've barely spent anything!"

"I didn't have any copper den," said Devyn, eyeing the crowds surrounding them.

"So?"

"Father always told me to use copper in the markets," he said. "It's not smart to advertise that you're carrying more unless you have an escort."

"I've got you," said Beryn.

"And I've got what? Your peace-bound Ozan sword?"

"Dev, it's not just any Ozan sword, it's a north Arinaith sword! One of the best there is!"

"And you spent like twenty gold on it and spilled out your entire purse while counting the money. Beryn, do you know how fucking stupid that was?"

Beryn drew back like he'd been slapped, his colour rising. "It's not like you couldn't get one too. What's the point of having this money if you can't buy anything neat with it?"

Devyn resisted burying his face in his hands. "That's not what I meant! I know better than to flash so much money in a public place! You're going to get us robbed or kidnapped or worse!"

"Or worse?" Beryn's face was red now. "No one would dare. You shouldn't even be talking to me like this. You need to stop. Right now. "

"And who knows who you are? Do you think it would matter?"

"Of course it does! Shut up!"

Devyn stared at him, hands shaking. Beryn just didn't get it. He really didn't. Part of him wanted to shake the smaller boy, but the other half- the half that noticed the sideways looks they had been getting from some of the vendors – wanted to grab Beryn and drag him bodily away from this place. He knew Beryn would never stand for it though. What could you do though? Risk dragging a royal through a crowd? And he knew Beryn. Beryn would not come quietly.

His father had worked so hard to have him schooled with Beryn, to have them spend time together. He knew that if Beryn took offense, then that work would be wasted. This is something his father had impressed upon him, multiple times. But if he didn't, who knew where Beryn's carelessness would lead them. Pranks and minor scuffles on the palace grounds or at school were one thing. But this was Haidala City's market, where anyone could be watching. And maybe Beryn had already forgotten, but Heilan was burning. It was a thought that did not sit lightly on Devyn's mind. If someone could burn a city, what could happen to two boys like them? He cast his eyes around, wondering for a moment whether he should cut his losses and run for the compound. But that thought only lasted half a moment. He squared his shoulders.

"Beryn," he said, fighting to keep his voice low and steady. "I'm not shutting up. This is stupid. We could be kidnapped or something. People have been watching us."

"Who's watching?" demanded Beryn loudly. Where there had been a few covert looks before, now most of the market aisle was watching them, people craning their necks to look at them. Devyn buried his face in his hands.

"Just – everybody. Come on, let's go," he reached for Beryn's arm.

"Don't you touch me!" yelp Beryn, stepping backward, his hair crackling with unchecked aether. "Who do you think you are?"

"Someone who's trying to save your stupid face," snapped Devyn, making another concentrated grab for Beryn's collar.

"You touch me and you're done!" cried Beryn, dancing out of his reach. "I am Prince Beryn del Enbarin and you will not handle me in this way!"

"Too late," said Devyn, seizing the younger boy's arm and pinioning it into an escort lock. Beryn yelped as struggling sent shooting pains through his wrist and he wound back, the magic charging almost as quickly as Devyn could sense it. Devyn barely got his shield up in time and it was a like a firework lit up the aisle as the spell ricocheted off his shield. Screaming and chaos ensued as merchants and shoppers alike dove for cover. Beryn was never one who only tried something once. Screaming incoherently with rage, he smacked spells against Devyn's shield with a flat-handed fury that Devyn would have expected from someone a decade younger. One of the awnings had caught alight and smoke choked them both, but Beryn kept coming. Devyn screamed as one of the spells ate through a weak spot and sent a searing burn across his shoulder. It was all he could do to keep Beryn still and keep his shield up.

"BERYN!" he coughed. "Stoppit!"

"YOU- YOU-BASTARD!" screamed Beryn, still flailing, his eyes dilated. "YOU SLIMY MOTHERFUCKING SCUM!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" A familiar voice bellowed and Devyn nearly felt his knees give way with relief as he felt a pair of hands seize his shoulders and bodily drag him away from Beryn. Tuyan was there, his pale blue Aerial Guard coat soot stained. Another Aerial guard had her arms wrapped bodily Beryn's upper body, her shield sparking against his spells.

"KNOCK IT OFF!" she screamed, and Devyn blinked as she struck Beryn across the back of the head with an audible crack. The Prince's eyes crossed briefly and he staggered forward. The woman let him drop.

"You okay, Devyn?" said Tuyan, quickly running his hands over Devyn's upper torso, clearly checking for injuries. Devyn hissed as Tuyan touched the burn on his shoulder.

"Beryn's a shithead sometimes," he groused, gingerly shielding the injury from further investigation.

"Don't we both know it," said Tuyan with a wan smile.

"Are you both done yapping?" demanded the woman and they both turned to look at her. She was small-boned, with dark almond-shaped eyes and her black hair pulled back into two severe buns behind her ears and she stood over Beryn, who was now coughing and picking himself off the ground with great effort, with her hands on her hips.

"It's called 'showing concern', Kailing," snapped Tuyan. "You should try it sometime."

"I call it wasting our time," said Kailing. "We have the boys. Let's go."

She seized Beryn by the collar and dragged him bodily upright with a strength that Devyn would not have attributed to her size. "You call yourself a del Enbarin?" she sneered. "What man of rank brawls like a street urchin? Like one having a tantrum, no less?"

"Kailing, he's just a bo-"

"Shut up dirt-eater. No one asked you."

Devyn winced and he saw Tuyan turn purple, even as Beryn gaped at the tiny woman, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a fish.

"What pathetic excuse do you have for such behaviour, del Enbarin?" she snapped. "A man of rank – of your age – knows better! You shame your name and your race! Langara has no room for infants like you!"

Beryn, usually so quick with words, had nothing. He stared at Kailing like she was a bomb as he rubbed the back of his head. But she had no more time for him. Wheeling on one heel, she strode down the market aisle towards them.

"Being a boy is no excuse, dirt-eater" she snapped as she passed them, fixing Tuyan with a burning glare.

"Being noble is no excuse for being a first-rate bitch!" snapped Tuyan, wheeling after her. Devyn met Beryn's eye, and for once, he could see his friend was not able to take the lead. Gently taking Beryn's arm, they followed the two Aerial Guards, now arguing in full whisper.

"Only a savage would have been so irresponsible to let the heir of Langara out of his sight!" hissed the woman – Kailing.

"I'm sorry," growled Tuyan, "but there was something of a crisis going on. I was actually doing something useful!"

"My presence in Haidala is a diplomatic necessity," said Kailing. "I doubt any assignment of yours would outweigh that, Burtyai."

"You're a del Aitani," said Tuyan with a glance back at Devyn and Beryn, trailing closely in his wake. "If memory serves, that means you're some sort of relative to the late Lady Alieven, mother of our Crown Prince and Wing Commander Maida del Enbarin."

"So you know your genealogy, dirt-eater?" said Kailing sarcastically. "Impressive."

"If you're stationed here in Haidala City running errands for Wing Commander Arzen, you're clearly not as important as you think," said Tuyan smoothly, smirking.

Devyn couldn't help but snigger at the expression that crossed Kailing del Aitani's face. She sniffed and increased her pace. "At least I'm not a dirt-eating yak-rider," he heard her growl.

"At least I'm not an insufferable bitch who gets shuffled off to the boonies because no one can stand her!" snapped Tuyan back, speeding after her, clearly unwilling to let her get out of sight.

Devyn heard a set of rapid footsteps behind him, and he hesitated a moment, already turning.

SMASH.

"AHHHHH!" Beryn's voice, shrill with pain.

BAM! BAM!

The world went black.

BAM! BAM!

Tuyan wheeled, shield already coming up, and felt his blood run cold. He was already charging a spell when Kailing tackled him bodily.

"NO YOU FOOL!" she screamed, pushing him to the ground as the bullets sang over their head.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"Get off me!" he growled, trying to push her away. Dimly he could see four figures, two standing in classic firing positions, pistols smoking. Two were dragging two limp forms towards a waiting truck. Chaos reigned as people scattered, cowering and screaming.

"NO!" screamed Kailing. Tuyan nearly killed her then, but then he registered the fear in her eyes. She was staring at the figures and she seemed to shrink upon him, her shield covering them both as she scrabbled in the dirt, pushing them further behind a vender's kiosk. "They'll kill the boys before we could do anything!"

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The truth of her panicked words hit him like a punch to the gut and he was scrabbling too, cowering behind the wooden kiosk, knowing it couldn't shield them. Then the firing stopped and there was a screech of tires. He risked a look around the side, just in time to see the truck peel out of the market. It wasn't marked in any way he could see. Before he could register any other details, it was gone.

"Oh gods," he whispered, limply collapsing against the stall. He met Kailing's eyes, wide and dark with fear as she crouched next to him, and for a brief, soul-scorching moment, they understood each other perfectly.

"We're dead," she croaked.

   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

Muchos thanks to Swanbug and my hubby-to-be for your feedback :D

And here's a footnote that I intended to add onto one of the earlier chapters: 1. The origin of the term “Riverborn” has been long disputed by historians and linguists. A highly unscientific term, it has appealed to proponents of the Nuwa religion as a way to identify the magic users who manipulate the aether (believed by them to be gifted upon them by their proximity to the Langara River, which has been historically seen as sacred to Nuwa and carrying her blessing). Many historians have noted some commonalities of appearance among the self-described “Riverborn”, including blue eyes, straight blonde or light brown hair and a tall, slim build but none have been documented scientifically, and do not cover the variety of other phenotypes of aether users, including the large population of Seresi magicians. – Excerpted from “A Linguistic Overview of the Langara Basin Magicians and Their Neighbours”, paragraph 29 by Riyan A. Mitali.