Too excited to sleep, and unwilling to return to the tower once she'd made her mind up to leave, Mari made her way down from the forest village to the small collection of buildings surrounding the pier. Finding a vacant shed, she plopped down on a bale of straw, and began preparing for her journey. The city walls of Riverbend loomed in the distance, on a hill rising up from the woods to overlook the Thistledown River. She spared a glance for the tower that had been her home. It seemed very small, dark and cold from here, surrounded by wisps of fog in the pre-dawn gloom.

First she removed her wool cloak. It absorbed magic like a sponge, so doing any spell work in it was a nuisance.

The leather backpack she'd summoned was stuffed with a pillow from her bed.

She snapped her fingers, and it was empty.

"Oh, this won't do," she muttered, tapping her index finger on her chin. "Not nearly enough space. If I'm leaving permanently, I'll need a Ewe Haul."

She hugged the oiled satchel to her chest, closing her eyes and focusing on the smell of leather. Then she thought about the smell of lanoline, the feel of wool under her fingertips. How it was different from leather; warmer and softer.

There was a popping sound. Her chest felt hot. The satchel was now a large woolen carpetbag.

"Much better," she said. Textiles, especially wool, were her natural medium. Working with it held her spells in place more easily. Less likelihood of things unraveling. Or exploding.

She placed her hand on the bottom of the bag, and then pushed sharply against it, whispering the Sylvan words for "open, please?" Lavender sparks flew up like dust from a beaten rug. The opening of a small pocket dimension now gaped under her hand. It was roughly the size and shape of a root cellar.

"Perfect," she said, nodding in satisfaction.

She closed her eyes and visualized her wardrobe back in the tower, mentally grabbing its contents and tossing them haphazardly in the pocket dimension. She scanned the rest of the tower room in her mind, picking a few more personal items to take with her - a silver comb, a small polished brass mirror, her favorite mug, a particularly nice crocheted shawl, and a few of her favorite books. They popped out of existence in the tower with a whiff of brimstone only to reappear in the storage space at the bottom of the bag.

The process didn't take long.

It was shocking how little of that life she wanted to carry with her.

Alistair bounced excitedly on a wooden crate. He had not been around the last time she had done anything adventurous, and he never let her forget it. The raven could not possibly have been more enthusiastic about her plan. Which at present, was less of a plan and more like an irresistible and poorly-thought-out impulse.

"You need a shield from prying eyes. My mistress, you should cast a disguise," he cawed.

Mari rolled her eyes at the bird. Wonderful. More rhymes.

"I'm not running from an armed mob with pitchforks and torches!"

"Yet," the familiar muttered under his breath, shaking his feathers out dismissively. "You know Cedric. If he thinks you've come to harm, he'll send a guard."

The sorceress sighed. Alistair was right; Cedric would be worried. The last thing she wanted was a sergeant of the guard dogging her trail across half the kingdom of Emory.

She plucked a handful of straw from the bale she sat on, and pressed it between her palms.

"Hey, now. You're just a bunch of woody fibers, aren't you? I'm not asking much."

She pushed against reality, working to convince the straw that it wanted to be paper. That it probably should be paper. It practically was paper already. And after a few seconds, reality complied and she held a sheet of clean foolscap.

A few moments later, and she had a quill and some charcoal ink as well. Alistair refused to donate a feather unless she at least looked for one elsewhere. Fortunately a delivery of poultry had occupied the shed on some recent occasion.

She scribbled a short note: "Cedric, I quit. Good luck, Marigold".

"That's it?" squawked Alistair.

She looked at him sideways. "What?"

"You don't have anything else to say to him? He's your closest friend! And ill-equipped to lead the city without you." The raven clucked at her judgmentally.

She pressed her lips together pensively for a moment, then sighed, picking up the quill again.

"P.S. - Maybe ask Brother Clarens for help?"

The bird, reading over her shoulder, sounded like he was either choking or chuckling.

"When you're done with someone, you're really done, aren't you?" he cackled, once he regained his composure.

"He never once asked me if I needed help, Al," she muttered. "Not in twenty years. Not with managing the city, not with handling the Red Derby Society, not with anything..."

There was a long silence, during which the raven ducked his head under his wing awkwardly.

"He's always seen you as some legendary hero," the bird said, after a few moments. "WHICH YOU ARE, by the way. Who thinks that kind of person needs their help?"

"I didn't need it," she said quietly. "But not needing help isn't the same as not wanting it offered."

#

A few hours later, Mari stood at the edge of the wooden dock, her silver-streaked brown hair in a loose braid down her back as she watched the morning steamship approach. She had booked a modest but comfortable berth that would take her as far as the city of Menefer. The vessel's blackened chimney belched dark smoke into the sky, while its paddlewheel churned the waters of the Thistledown River into frothy waves.

She'd forgone a disguise spell in favor of transforming her clothing to the modest garb of a traveling merchant. The soft fabric of her blouse and skirt now carried the faint scent of well-traveled roads and market stalls. She'd also taken her hair down from its usual severe bun. She had tethered the Ewe Haul spell to her bag to avoid having to maintain it. It was now a permanent enchantment, not an active casting. Keeping an illusion spell from slipping was just one more thing to worry about. Right now she was determined to eliminate those, not add more.

"Last call for boarding!" the deckhand shouted, and Mari hurried up the gangplank, her heart pounding in anticipation. As the ship glided away from the shore, she leaned against the railing, her hazel eyes scanning the city walls that rose behind the woods as they receded into the distance. A sense of relief washed over her as the familiar faces and places faded from view, an opportunity for a fresh start stretching before her.

The morning sun cast a warm glow over the steamship's comfortable interior. Passengers mingled, laughing and chatting, their voices melding with the rhythmic hum of the engine. In a quiet corner of the ship's salon, a group of passengers huddled around a card table, their animated expressions inviting Mari to join them.

"Room for one more?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Ah, a newcomer!" one player said, grinning broadly. "By all means, join us. We've been playing all night."

As she settled into her seat, running her fingers over the unfamiliar weight of her braid, Mari felt a twinge of unease. The Red Derby Society's malicious rumors left her wary, but the thrill of competition and the draw of companionship was too enticing to resist.

"Deal me in." She spoke with a firm voice, her hand steady and sure as she confidently reached for the cards.

"Beginner's luck," one player teased as Mari won the first round. She tried to keep her expression neutral, focusing on the cards in her hand and the delicate dance of bluffing and strategy.

"Seems like you've played before," another passenger commented as Mari raked in her third consecutive win. She forced a laugh, shrugging off the compliment. "Maybe I'm just getting the hang of it."

But as the game progressed and her winnings grew, the other players began to watch her with narrowed eyes. She could feel their suspicion mounting with each victory, and she bit her lip, wondering if she should fold.

"Something's not right here," one player finally said, pointing an accusatory finger at Mari. "You're using magic to cheat!"

"Of course, " Mari sighed, rolling her eyes. "If I'm winning, there must be something evil afoot."

"Come on, lady," another player chimed in, his voice tinged with bitterness. "No one wins this much without some kind of trick up their sleeve."

"You shouldn't have invited a stranger if you weren't prepared to lose to one," she huffed. "Fortunately, I don't need your money." She pushed her winnings back to the center of the table. "I think it's time to find my quarters."

As she walked through the corridors to the berth marked on her ticket, a troubling thought arose. She hadn't been trying to cheat. But she used magic often and instinctively. Maybe she'd influenced the game without conscious thought?

And if she had bent a game of chance to her will like that, what other things - or people - had she subtly, unintentionally manipulated over the years?

#

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting warm golden hues across the steamship's deck. Mari stood by the railing, watching the Thistledown River flow lazily beneath her. The poker game had ended on a sour note with the accusations of cheating still ringing in her ears. She could feel the weight of the other passengers' stares and whispers, their suspicion clinging to her like an unwanted shadow. It was a little too close to her experiences in Riverbend of late.

What use was it to travel across the kingdom for a fresh start, if the same problems were just going to follow you the entire way?

"Nice view, isn't it?" a soft voice said from behind her. Mari turned to see one of the other passengers, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile and knowing eyes. "I've always loved watching the sunset on the river."

"Me too," Mari replied, nodding and returning the woman's smile.

"Mind if I give you some friendly advice?" the woman asked, leaning against the railing beside her.

"Go ahead," Mari said, curious as to what this stranger might have to say.

"Word travels fast," the woman began, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "And if you want to avoid being viewed with suspicion, you should try to be a little less obvious about being a powerful magic user."

Mari's face grew hot, but she remained outwardly composed. Couldn't she have a single day without being treated like a villain? "Powerful?" she replied coolly, "You'd think no one on this boat had seen a hedge witch before."

"Your poker face might be good, but your aura is another story," the woman explained gently. "I don't know how long it's been since you traveled, but a lot of folks carry dowsers these days. They've gotten good at making them smaller, disguising them as everyday items." She gestured to the enameled brooch holding her shawl in place. "And mine says you're no hedge witch."

Mari frowned. She knew about dowsers - they were magic-detecting devices. Because she wasn't deliberately using magic to affect the game, she didn't think she would trigger one. Curious about the woman's intentions, she squinted, looking a tiny bit past her outward appearance.

Only a tiny bit, though. Once she'd seen all the way through someone's bones. The sight of brains sloshing around in a transparent skull was not something she wanted to repeat. Ever.

A quick glance revealed that the woman was well-intentioned. And also a Seer. Mari relaxed a bit with that knowledge. Perhaps her brooch really could detect Mari's ambient power, but more likely she'd simply seen it in a vision.

Along with a flash of her future - a Seer's vision never stayed fixed entirely in the present. She suppressed the desire to ask the woman about it. Like sorcery, divination was often viewed uncharitably by ordinary folk.

It seemed they both had secrets.

"Thank you for telling me," Mari murmured. If this woman had noticed her ambient power, how many others had as well? It would be easy for someone to track her, and she didn't want to be found. Years of handling crisis after crisis made her automatic response to cycle through possible scenarios. Come up with a way to control the situation - keep it from becoming a disaster.

Search the other passengers' minds? And then what? Erase any memory that she'd been here?

She sighed deeply, leaning on the railing.

This wasn't a crisis. It was a concern. When had she lost the ability to tell the difference?

"Sometimes it's better to let the small things slide," the woman continued, her voice warm and patient. "You don't need to win every hand – or every battle – to come out on top in the end."

Mari nodded, taking a deep breath as she absorbed the woman's words.

"Thank you," she said, offering the woman a genuine smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good luck," the woman replied with a wink before walking away, leaving Mari to contemplate the path ahead.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the unfamiliar landscape in twilight hues. Riverbend had disappeared from view an hour after she'd boarded. Mari considered what else she might be ready to leave behind.