The first time Elderaan saw her, he thought little of the encounter.

“You dropped this, sir.”

She was a young girl, ten or eleven years old. Her skin was dirty, but with signs of attempts to wash away the dirt, leaving it smudged across her face. Her hair was tangled and greasy, her clothes soiled and torn in several places. They wouldn’t be the warmest clothes to spend the coming winter in, either. Her pale skin marked her as a Folith, which was somewhat unusual, but not enough to pay it much mind. There were many children living on the streets—runaways or orphans—so it stood to reason there was a Folith child or two as well.

He was in the market, acquiring provisions before fresh food became scarce in winter. He had finished his purchases and hauled up the two heavy baskets, one in each hand, to begin the tiring walk back to the shop when she spoke. She was holding a sack of rice he had bought. A quick glance at the basket to his right confirmed it was no longer there. It had been on the top, so could have fallen.

“Oh, err, yes.” He lowered the baskets to the ground so he could let go and take the sack from her, but she darted forward and dropped it into the basket it had come from. “Ah, thank you,” he said.

She smiled at him. Her teeth were surprisingly white.

“Well then,” Elderaan said. “Best be on my way. You make sure you have somewhere warm to stay, hmm?”

She nodded and her smiled drooped. “Yes, sir.”

She continued to stare at him as he turned away. He paused and a few seconds of awkwardness went by. It was obvious what she was hoping for. She should have just let him put the blasted baskets down in that case.

With a sigh, he lowered the baskets and reached for his purse. He took out two pennies and held them out to her.

Her smile turned into a frown as she held out her hand and allowed him to drop the coins into it. Good gods, how much did she expect?

“That’s all I have, and you should be grateful for it,” he snapped. “I’m not made of money, you know. Now run along.”

He didn’t wait for a response, but just grabbed the baskets’ handles, heaved, and turned away.

He wouldn’t have thought any more of that encounter. Although it wasn’t an everyday occurrence, it wasn’t unusual to encounter street urchins looking for handouts. For all he knew, she had snatched the rice specifically to manufacture the opportunity to return it to him and make a few coins. The cheek of expecting more than he’d given her!

But he would have forgotten it completely—and did for a while—if he hadn’t seen her again a couple weeks later in more unusual circumstances.

There had been two days of constant snowfall, followed by a brief thaw and then a refreezing. The steps to the Hall of Knowledge were treacherous with ice. Not for the first time, Elderaan wished he could give the idiots who built the place a stern talking to. Who in their right mind—given the types of winters in these parts—would make the only entrance at the top of a tall, steep flight of stairs with no railing to hold onto? Even in good weather, it was exhausting. Covered in ice, it was a potential death trap. The crumbling dragon gargoyles over the doors at the top seemed to concur. Their gaze swept down over the stairs, a sort of malevolence carved into them that made them seem as though they were waiting for someone to fall, so they could snatch an easy meal.

He could just turn around and go back to the shop. After all, why should he answer a summons from the Council anyway? They were probably just going to give him some new title. Ever since that young upstart Ezmelda had taken over, all they ever did was hand out meaningless titles. The Council was little more than a joke these days. Still, it wouldn’t do to annoy them. The Hall of Knowledge’s resources were valuable, and control over those resources was about the only real power the Council had. So he braced himself for the treacherous climb.

“Would you like some help, sir?”

He turned at the voice to find the same girl from the market standing a short distance away.

“Hmm?”

“Would you like some help climbing the stairs?”

He wanted to snap at her that, no, he did not need any help. He could manage quite well on his own, thank you very much. But truth be told, he could use the help. A brief glance back at the ice-coated stairs confirmed that. As much as he hated to admit it, he was getting old, and his legs were not as strong as they once were. Someone to help him balance on the ice would be a great help.

With a sigh, he nodded. “Oh, very well.”

She held out a frost-bitten hand, and after a brief hesitation, he took hold of it. It was cold to the touch. He couldn’t help but wonder how much feeling she had in it. “A young girl like you shouldn’t be out in the cold like this,” he lectured as they began to ascend the steps. She shook her head in agreement. “Do you have nowhere to go?”

“No, sir,” she replied.

Elderaan groaned. He hated being confronted with these kinds of situations. If he could help, he would, but he couldn’t, so he just preferred to ignore them—tried to pretend they didn’t exist. He didn’t appreciate the reminder.

“You know, while it’s a clever idea to help people up these stairs, you won’t get much from it,” he told her. “There’s few of us that go up and down them. Hardly anyone uses the Hall of Knowledge these days. Half the city thinks it’s cursed or haunted. They probably expect the ghost of the Dragon himself to accost them should they enter. The other half think it’s a useless reminder of a past they’d rather forget. Lord Belone would like nothing more than to tear it down. You’ll make more money if you concentrate on the market area.”

She nodded, but said nothing.

“Or perhaps a rich aristocrat travelling into or out of Lord Belone's palace. With luck, you might get enough money from just one such person to pay for a place to stay for a few nights, maybe a week.”

Again, she said nothing.

“Well?”

“I’ll consider it, sir,” she said, disappointment in her voice.

Elderaan didn’t understand. Just what was this girl after?

Even with her help, it was not an easy climb up the three-storey height, and took a good quarter hour or more. They climbed the rest of the way mostly in silence apart from occasional grunts from the strain. Elderaan just wasn’t sure what else to say to this girl. The whole way, she looked as though she wanted to say something, and on a couple occasions, she seemed about to do so, but she always stopped before she started.

When they reached the top, Elderaan let go of her hand and leaned against one of the pillars to catch his breath. “Thank you, my dear. I confess it would not have been easy without you.”

Once he’d had a chance to recover his breath, he stood up straight and reached into his purse to retrieve some coins. He didn’t have much, but he knew he’d feel endlessly guilty if he didn’t give her at least enough to get a room for the night. He counted out six pennies this time and held them out to her. Like before, she only reluctantly accepted them.

“Here,” he said. “This should be enough to get you a warm room for the night and some food. If you’re lucky, you might find a place cheap enough to make the money last for a second night.”

The girl nodded sullenly. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, off with you, then. I have business to attend to.”

She turned away from him slowly, her head lowered. The ungrateful child! Typical Folith, always expecting more. Yes, pure ungratefulness and greed. If he could convince himself of that, he might stop feeling bad for her, stop worrying that she was going to freeze to death.

Best to get in out of the cold before he froze, himself, he decided. Whatever blasted business the Council wanted with him, at least it might distract him from thoughts of the girl. He moved forward, opened the heavy doors, and entered.

Inside, Agernon was hobbling across the large, mostly empty entry hall, his cane clacking on the tiles. On the far side of the room, Ezmelda and a robed librarian—probably Pedrin by the height of him, although the individual’s cowl concealed their face—stood by the meagre fire that was far too small to provide heat to the draughty room.

“Should have stayed home, Elderaan,” Agernon said as he reached the doors, speaking more loudly than needed, obviously intending Ezmelda heard him. “Just a bunch of pointless formalities. The old days are long gone and good riddance to them, I say!”

At the far side of the room, Ezmelda gave no reaction.

“They gave me yet another new title and want to appoint me an apprentice,” Agernon whispered to Elderaan. “Ezmelda’s cousin. I asked her why she doesn’t take the brat on herself. She said her duties take up too much time. I pointed out that most of those duties are just ceremonial nonsense. If she cut those out, she’d have loads of time.” He chuckled. “She didn’t like that, I can tell you.”

“So, are you going to take the apprentice?” Elderaan asked.

Agernon snorted. “I’ll take an apprentice when I’m damn well ready, and not a moment before. I told her as much.”

“And her reply?”

“She reminded me the Council has the power to cut off my access to the library. So I agreed.”

Elderaan laughed.

“I need access to the books here, damn it! I have important research.”

Elderaan nodded and placed a hand on Agernon’s shoulder. “I know, I know. I understand your pain. They do say training an apprentice is very rewarding.”

Agernon harrumphed. “You better hope Ezmelda doesn’t have another cousin needs training.”

Elderaan sighed. He’d been pondering taking on an apprentice for some time now. If that was indeed what Ezmelda and the Council wanted him for, it might not be so bad. At least it would force the decision for him.

“Master Elderaan!” Ezmelda called from across the hall, her voice echoing. “We shouldn’t keep the Council waiting!”

“Yes, coming!” he called back.

“We still on for our game this week?” Agernon asked.

Elderaan nodded. “Of course. I’ll see you then.” He patted Agernon’s shoulder and turned towards Ezmelda.

“Shit,” Agernon grumbled.

Elderaan turned back to see Agernon staring out the still open doors. “Is something wrong?” Outside, the young girl still stood at the top of the stairs. She was rubbing her hands, trying to warm them, and not paying any attention to the two old men inside the doors.

“It’s that blasted girl,” Agernon hissed.

“You know her?”

“She’s been following me around the past few weeks. Always popping up wherever I go, asking if I need hep with this or with that. She was here when I arrived. Wanted to help me up the stairs. Probably been waiting for me to come back out again. What sort of stories do they tell kids about us these days, anyway? That we can conjure gold out of thin air? You didn’t let her help you up the stairs and give her any money, did you?”

“Well, I...”

“Whatever you do, don’t fall for her charms. She’ll bleed you for everything you have.”

“I’ll be sure to be careful, Agernon. And you be careful, too. With your leg on those stairs—”

“I don’t need her help!”

“No, no, of course not.”

“Master Elderaan!” Ezmelda called.

He turned in her direction. “I’m coming! Just give me a moment!” When he turned back, Agernon was already walking out the doors, and the girl was moving over to help him. So she had been targeting wizards. Elderaan was beginning to think it wasn’t money she was after.

“Master Elderaan!”

Elderaan sighed and reached to close the doors as Agernon said, “I already told you, I don’t need your help, girl. Now get lost!”

As the doors clicked into place, Elderaan braced himself for whatever the Council wanted.

* * * * *

They didn’t give him an apprentice, just another title—First Magister of Mentalism, or something like that. Truth be told, he’d mostly forgotten it by the time he left the Hall of Knowledge. He was more focused on the relief of not being assigned an apprentice. Even though the idea of one was becoming more appealing, he realised he would rather have his own choice in the matter. And it was possible he knew of someone intelligent enough for the position—assuming she had the talent as well.

It was a rather ridiculous prospect. He’d only met her briefly on those two occasions and didn’t even know the girl’s name, yet the idea was starting to seem almost exciting. And he was quite certain now that was what her goal was. It was why the money kept disappointing her.

He did wonder why she didn’t just outright say what she wanted, but perhaps she was shy or uncertain what to say. Indeed, how exactly did one just ask a wizard to take on a street urchin as an apprentice? If she had asked him that on their first, or even second encounter, he would have turned her down without a second thought.

The method she’d chosen had created a stronger impression. Assuming it was deliberate, it was quite clever. As well as showing intelligence, she was displaying a willingness to be deferential and to work. All good signs for a prospective apprentice. Now he just had to wait for her to show up again.

Alas, with the weather the way it was, there was little reason for him to head outside any farther than Agernon’s—and that only once a week or so. He couldn’t just wander around aimlessly either. Apart from the bad weather—snow and biting winds—he couldn’t just close up the shop any time he wanted. He had to maintain his meagre funds somehow.

So he had no idea how to find the girl.

He did ask Agernon about her at their weekly card game.

“Haven’t seen her.” Agernon drew a card and frowned at it. “And thank goodness, too. With luck, she froze to death.”

“Oh come now, you don’t mean that.” Elderaan drew a card of his own.

Agernon scowled. “Of course I do.”

“You’re just annoyed at a bad hand.”

Agernon harrumphed. “Why should you care, anyway? What’s she to you?”

“Just a thought I had.”

He told Agernon of his idea and the old man laughed. “Nonsense. She just wants handouts and you have too soft a heart. I warned you away from her. She’ll bleed you dry if you give her half a chance. I fold.” Agernon tossed his cards down.

Elderaan smiled and started to gather up the cards to deal another hand. “Perhaps. We’ll see.”

But the next several days passed with no sign of the girl. Elderaan even made an extra trip into the market two days after his card game with Agernon, just so there might be a chance of bumping into her, but to no avail. If she had been studying his habits, she wouldn’t have expected this day to be a market day and so she wouldn’t be there. Or maybe she had died of the cold. Gods, he hoped that wasn’t the case. He’d never forgive himself for being too slow. Perhaps he was wrong about her. Perhaps she really was just after money like Agernon said. He decided to put her out of his mind and get on with his day-to-day business.

* * * * *

When the worst blizzard of the season so far and one of the worst Elderaan could remember hit, he couldn’t help thinking of the girl again. He did his best to shove the thoughts from his mind, but as the wind and snow battered against the door and windows of the shop, thoughts of what it must be like for her alone in this weather came unbidden. But there was nothing he could do. He would catch his death of cold if he went out in this weather. With luck, she and any others like her had found shelter.

He focused instead on stoking the fire and making his room as comfortable as possible before settling down to sleep. But sleep wasn’t something willing to come easily. It wasn’t just the howl of the wind and the banging of the shop sign against the side of the building. He’d slept through such sounds before. No, it was thoughts of that blasted girl freezing to death.

So he tossed and turned, listening to the banging of the shop sign. There was a kind of rhythm to it: the loud clatter when it made contact with the wall, accentuated with the creaking of the chains it hung on, and periodic softer thuds barely perceptible above the wind. He wondered what those were. Hitting the wooden bar the sign hung from, perhaps? No, their timing wasn’t in synch with the bangs. Not the sign then. Something else banging.

He pushed aside his blanket and sat up, straining to hear more clearly. Four quick thuds. A pause. Four more quick thuds. A precise repetitive pattern. Too precise for something blowing in the wind. The door. Someone was knocking on the door!

He leapt out of bed, grabbed his robe, and hurried down the stairs. The cold showroom floor stung his bare feet, and he could already feel the thin draughts of wind seeping through the cracks in the door. The banging was much more audible here. He scrambled to the latches to unlock the door and then opened it.

It flew out of his grasp at the strength of the wind and hit him in the side of the face as it whirled open, threatening to rip off its hinges as it slammed into the wall. Snow whipped about him. The white cloak he wore whenever he went out flew off its hook, and the ledger at the sales counter opened, sending papers flying about the room. The rats began scratching at the corner of their cages, seeking some kind of escape from the sudden onslaught.

The girl stumbled into the shop.

At least, Elderaan assumed it was her. She had a heavy blanket wrapped around her, obscuring her features. But the figure who collapsed on the floor was about the right size.

As soon as she was clear, Elderaan grabbed the door, heaved it round, and pushed it shut. The papers gradually settled down, but the rats remained agitated. Elderaan rubbed at the side of his face, then reached down to the girl. She took his hand and let him help her to her feet. As she did so, she let go of the snow-covered blanket, which fell to the floor.

It was her.

Once she was on her feet, she pressed herself against him, her arms around him, clutching at him. Her body shook and she began to sob.

Elderaan had not been prepared for such a display of emotion, though in retrospect, it was understandable. He put a hand on her back and patted it hesitantly. He didn’t have much experience with children and wasn’t sure what he should be doing. “There there. It’s all right now.”

She continued to sob.

After several minutes, he decided to say something. “Now, now, you can’t stand here crying all night, can you? Hmm? We need to get you looked after. Look up. Look me in the eye.”

Her sobbing stopped and she looked up at him. She released one hand gripping him and wiped her sleeve across her face. Elderaan reached down to take her hand before she could grab hold of him again. “Let’s see that hand, hmm?” She let him take the hand. “And the other one.” She let go with the other and let him examine it as well.

Both hands were bone cold and almost blue-white in colour. The skin was stiff and not very pliable. He gently squeezed one of her fingers, then increased the pressure a little—not enough to hurt her, but enough to produce a response. Yet, she showed no reaction. “Can you feel that?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Hmm, yes. We’d better get you seen to. Come with me.” He let go of her hands and headed up the stairs. The girl followed behind. He led her into his room where he grabbed one of the blankets from the bed. “Wrap this around your hands while I warm some water on the fire.”

He let her be for a few moments while he filled a pot with water and hung it over the fire. Then he looked back to make sure that she had done as he asked. She had done more than that. Since the blanket was much larger than she needed for her hands, she had wrapped it around herself first and then had wrapped a separate end around each of her hands.

Elderaan let the water sit over the fire for a minute or two and then removed it. He dipped a finger in to test that it wouldn’t scald the girl, and then, satisfied that it wouldn’t, placed the pot on his bedside table. “Come over here. Unwrap your hands. I want you to soak them in this water for a while. You might feel some tingling or even pain as the feeling returns, but don’t remove your hands until I tell you it’s all right. Do you understand?”

She nodded and came forward, letting the ends of the blanket fall from her hands. She then placed them in the water. She flinched a little, but kept her hands submerged.

Elderaan bent over and took a closer look at her face. Her cheeks and forehead were red, but weren’t the pale blue-white of her hands. “Your face looks not too badly off. How are your feet?”

“I can’t feel my toes,” she said.

“Hmm, we should probably soak them too just to be sure. We don’t want you losing feeling permanently. We should get you some dry clothes too, but I’m afraid I don’t have anything your size.”

“I have a change of clothes in my pack,” she said.

“Your pack?” In all the excitement, he hadn’t noticed her carrying a pack.

“I dropped it downstairs,” she said. “It’s watertight. Except I can’t close the flap all the way, so some snow probably got in, but the clothes shouldn’t be too wet. I think.”

“Yes, well, we’ll see I suppose. You stay here. I’ll go and find your pack and prepare some water for your feet. Let me know if that water starts to feel cold so I can reheat it.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

He left her there and returned downstairs. Once there, he took a moment to survey the chaos caused by the wind. Papers lay in various scattered places around and on the sales counter, and there were a few puddles of water on the floor from melting snow. Luckily, it looked like most of the papers had not gotten wet, though his cloak had. A couple of tincture bottles on the display near the door had fallen over and a couple things had fallen off nearby shelves, but nothing seemed broken at first glance. The rats had calmed down, though they stirred at his passing now. On the whole, the devastation wasn’t as bad as he had feared, and he could worry about cleaning it up later.

The blanket the girl had arrived in still lay near the door. It was wet through. He found the pack tangled up within it. Although not very large, the pack was stuffed to capacity and heavier than Elderaan had expected it to be. A slender object wrapped in wet cloth stuck out the side of the flap, too long to fit in the pack and keeping the flap from closing completely.

He slung the pack over his shoulder and returned upstairs, where he filled another pot with water and placed it over the fire.

“The water’s getting cold,” the girl said.

“Very well, as soon as this pot’s warmed, we’ll reheat it. Now then, while I’m treating your frostbite, why don’t you tell me what this is all about, hmm?”

“What this is all about?” she said. “What do you mean?”

Elderaan turned to look directly at her. “I mean what you’re doing here.”

“Well, the storm,” she began.

“I don’t mean the storm. I mean following wizards around, offering your services, yet not being open about what you expect in return. One might almost think you were stalking us.”

Tears began to glisten in the corner of her eyes again. “I...I’m sorry. I...”

Elderaan sighed. That had been too harsh. He hadn’t meant to frighten her. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” He took the pot from the fire, tested the temperature, then brought it over to her. “Let’s get your boots off, shall we? Why don’t you sit on the bed?”

She turned to do as he asked and removed her hands from the pot on the table. She gasped and stuck them back in. “I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s all right. It won’t harm to remove them for a moment. You’ll need your hands to give you leverage to sit on the bed. Besides, we need to reheat that pot anyway, don’t we?”

She nodded, extracted her hands again, and pushed herself up onto the bed. Although her boots appeared as though they might have once been of decent quality, they were now heavily worn and ratty. As he lifted one foot up to remove the boot, Elderaan noted that the sole was worn almost through. It could not have provided much protection from the weather. He gently pulled it off, and then the other one. The girl’s feet were red and blistered. He moved the second pot directly under her and directed her to lower her feet into it. Then he grabbed the first pot and returned to the fireplace.

“Now, why don’t we start again? How about you tell me your name, hmm?”

“It’s, um...” She hesitated. “Asa.”

“Um Asa?” He stared at her. “Tell me the truth now.”

She looked away from him. “It’s Asa.”

“Very well, Asa. Why are you so interested in helping wizards?”

She didn’t look up. “I want to be one,” she muttered. Her face went red again.

Elderaan smiled. He had been right. “Do you now? Why so embarrassed then? Why not just say so from the start and avoid all this flustering about?”

“Because you’re not supposed to.”

“Not supposed to? Why ever not? How is anyone supposed to know what you want if you don’t tell them, hmm?”

She looked up at him and sniffled. “That’s what the woman at the Hall of Knowledge said.”

“The woman? Which one?” He could guess which one though.

“The tall, pretty one,” Asa said.

“Ezmelda?”

“I think so. I went there first and she spoke to me. She told me that wizards choose their own apprentices, not the other way round. I must wait to be asked and not ask myself.”

Elderaan knew of no such rule, though Ezmelda was ever one for finding obscure traditions from centuries past and insisting that they be followed today. Or she was just trying to get rid of the girl.

“So I thought maybe if I helped you out,” Asa continued, “you might think of me when you wanted an apprentice. I don’t think the other old man liked me very much, but you seemed nice.”

“Other old man? You think me old, do you?”

“Well, you are, aren’t you?”

Elderaan chuckled and lifted the pot from the fire. “I suppose I am getting on a bit, yes.” After checking again that the water wasn’t too hot, he carried the pot over to her and placed it on the table. “Hands in.”

She did so and looked at him expectantly.

“So, you thought that by being nice to me and other wizards, we might start to like you and one of us would spontaneously offer to train you?”

She started to nod, but stopped and frowned. “Yeah. It was kind of stupid, wasn’t it? But I didn’t know what else to do.”

Elderaan sat on the bed beside her. “No, my child, I wouldn’t say it was all that stupid, after all. Unusual, certainly. Risky too. But also creative. It shows intelligence and determination. It also might have worked somewhat.”

Her eyes widened and she grinned.

“But only because I figured out what you were up to! If you had approached Agernon one more time, he probably would have frozen you in the ice.” At her shocked expression, he added, “Metaphorically speaking, that is. He can’t actually do that. At least, I don’t think he can. Anyway, the point is, you managed to annoy him quite intensely.”

“That’s why I stopped approaching him,” she said.

He patted her shoulder. “Well, you’ll have to make amends with him, if you’re to stick around.”

She looked up at him, her face not managing to hold back the excitement. “You mean you’ll teach me?”

“Ah ah ah,” he said, standing up. “Aren’t you supposed to wait for me to ask?”

“Oh, sorry.” She broke eye contact and lowered her head.

Elderaan chuckled. “First off, that’s nonsense. Ezmelda was just trying to get rid of someone she thought was a bothersome child. If there are actually any rules for how these apprenticeships are arranged, I’ve certainly never heard of them. The Council sometimes assigns them, but I don’t think even that’s a hard-fast rule.”

She looked up at him again, her smile returning.

“But I can’t give you a strict answer to your question yet.”

“Why not?”

He sat down beside her again and gave her a smile. “Wizardry requires more than just intelligence and creativity. It also requires a natural inborn talent. Without it, there’s nothing you can do. Only a quarter of humans have it. Still, those aren’t terrible odds. You have a reasonable chance.”

Asa slumped a little. “How do we find out?”

“That’s why you need to make amends with Agernon,” Elderaan said. “He’s the one who can find out for you.”

“Oh,” she said, slumping further. “Can’t you do it?”

Elderaan shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I’m a mentalist, not an enchanter. I don’t have the skill to test for the talent.”

“Mentalist,” she repeated. “Magic of the mind.”

“That’s right. There are three disciplines—well, four, but the Isyar jealously hold on to the secret of the fourth. Mentalism is one of them and enchantment is another. Agernon is an enchanter and has the skills you need. He performs the services for the Council at the Hall of Knowledge from time to time. We’ll need to convince him to do so for you. But that’s a problem for later. You need some rest first. Let me see your hands.”

She held them out to him. The normal colour was returning and the skin had regained some pliancy. She flinched as he prodded them. “That stings.”

He nodded. “Hmm, yes, that’s normal. I think we got to you in time.” He stood up and went over to where he’d left her pack. Being careful not to let the long, slender object fall out, he opened the flap and pulled out the top item, a crumpled and damp wool skirt. “Yes, this won’t do. You’d be better off to just wrap yourself in the blankets on the bed. I’m going to go downstairs and clean up. I want you to soak your hands and feet for a few more minutes, then get undressed and wrap yourself in the bed blankets. Then lie down and get some sleep. We’ll talk some more in the morning.”

She nodded. “Yes, sir. Where will you sleep?”

“Don’t worry about me. Just take care of yourself.” He put the pack down and went downstairs.

Once he’d gathered up the scattered ledger papers, reorganized them, picked up his cloak and any fallen items, and mopped up the melt-water, he proceeded to do a bit of rearranging of the display shelves and then made sure the rats had an ample supply of food. None of it took particularly long, and he wanted to make sure Asa had enough time to get into bed before he returned. Eventually, his still-bare feet were becoming numb with the cold, so he realised he needed to return upstairs before he ended up with frostbite too. He was also starting to realise just how exhausted he was feeling.

He was halfway up the stairs when he remembered he needed somewhere to sleep, so turned around and collected his heavy wooden chair from behind the sales counter. It was a struggle to get it up the stairs, particularly without making much noise, but he managed to get it into the bedroom.

Asa was already fast asleep by this point, only the side of her head visible amidst the tangle of blankets. He placed the chair down beside the wardrobe, and flinched at the soft thud it made. But the girl didn’t wake up. He then collapsed into the chair with a sigh. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sleep in, but his muscles ached and he was exhausted enough that he didn’t doubt sleep would come.

Then his gaze fell on Asa’s pack. It had fallen on its side and the cloth-wrapped, slender object had slid partway out. It would be invasive of him to pry through her things, but he was curious, and it would be good to know what belongings she already had. Besides, she hadn’t objected when he’d opened it to check her clothes. What if the skirt hadn’t been right at the top? He would have had to dig through anything else in there to find other clothes. It was spurious reasoning, he knew. Truth was, he hoped the pack would reveal secrets she hadn’t yet told him and might be unwilling to tell him otherwise. He was pretty certain she’d lied about her name, after all.

With a groan, he stood up and crossed over to the pack. He knelt down and pulled out first the slender object. As soon as he held it in his hands, it was clear that it accounted for a significant portion of the pack’s weight. From the feel of it, most of its length was flat, but one end had a slightly different shape to it, wider momentarily and then more rounded. Its weight and balance made it difficult for Elderaan to untie the strings that held the cloth wrapping in place, so he returned to the chair and laid it across his lap.

He looked over to the bed to ensure the girl had not wakened, and then began to work at the ties. Once they were out of the way, he unwrapped the object, revealing steel that glinted in the light from the fire. A sword, and not just any sword by the look of it. He was no expert, but this looked of fine craftsmanship, with gold filigree etched into the hilt, and the pommel contained an engraving of a bear’s head on both sides. The Bear of Arnor. This was a noble’s sword, probably a royal one.

It wasn’t a particularly big sword, certainly smaller and slenderer than the ones Elderaan had seen carried by the Watch here in Quorge. Presumably, it was meant for someone of a lighter build, probably a woman—but a grown woman, not a young girl. Why did this girl have it? How had she gotten it?

It was possible she’d stolen it, but there was another possibility. It seemed unbelievable that she could have travelled so far, but she was the right age and had the right general appearance.

Just over a year ago, ten-year-old Princess Felitïa had vanished without a trace. Within days, the Church had posted rewards for information across the entire country and possibly beyond. Rumours and stories about what had happened—that she had run away, drowned, been kidnapped, or even murdered—spread almost as fast. Here in Quorge, while people talked, few were all that concerned by it—apart from the Foliths in Lord Belone’s court, he supposed. Few people liked the royal family and most outright hated them. Elderaan had no love for them, certainly. Also, Quorge was so far away from Arnor City, no one expected a missing princess to be found here, so no one cared.

Elderaan began re-wrapping the sword and glanced over at the sleeping girl. A year was more than enough time for her to have made the long trip half-way across the continent, but it still seemed far-fetched that, at her age, she could have done it. Not alone, at any rate.

He retied the strings and returned the sword to the pack. He decided to resist looking at anything else in the pack for now to avoid it looking too disturbed.

What had he gotten himself into?

* * * * *

There was a terrible crick in his neck when Elderaan woke, his back ached, and the rest of his body wasn’t doing much better. Sleeping in a hard chair all night was not something he wanted to repeat on a regular basis. He would need to do something about this if the girl was going to be sticking around.

Said girl was still asleep, so he took the opportunity to dress and head down to the kitchen behind the showroom to prepare some food. It was a simple breakfast—just plain porridge—but the smells of the cooking were enough to wake and draw her in. She wandered into the kitchen just as he was finishing up. She was dressed in the clothes she had been wearing last night.

“You should have let me hang those by the fire to dry,” he told her. “I really should have done it last night before I went to sleep, but I’m afraid it slipped my mind.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “They’re not that wet. They’re drier than the clothes in my pack.” Her gaze moved around the room. When she spotted the shelves where he kept his dishes and utensils, she crossed over to it, collected a couple bowls and spoons, and began to set the table.

“Still trying to be helpful?” he said.

She blushed. “No. I mean, yes, but not because... I mean...”

“Not to worry, my dear. I’m just teasing you. I appreciate your helpfulness. Now, you do want some food, yes?”

She nodded.

“Then hurry up and bring the bowls over here so I can fill them.”

She rushed over to him.

As they sat at the table and ate, Elderaan asked her, “How well have you been eating?”

“Okay,” she said, her mouth still full of food. She blushed again and wiped her face with her sleeve. She swallowed and continued, “Some days are better than others, but there are usually people who will give me food. The money you gave me helped a lot.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said.

He let her eat in silence after that, only once admonishing her to slow down. “You don’t want to choke, do you, hmm?” He only picked at his own food, his thoughts dwelling on what he had discovered last night. When she was finished, he let her have the rest of his own bowl, which she gleefully took. Despite what she had said, he suspected she had not been eating well at all.

Once she had finished his portion and had scraped the leftovers from the pot, he said to her, “Asa, if you’re to remain here and become my apprentice, you need to be completely honest with me, yes?”

“Of course,” she said, stacking the bowls and taking them over to the counter.

“I need to trust you, but I barely know you. You’re just someone I met on the street. I need to know you better. Who you are, where you came from, what brought you to Quorge. That sort of thing. You understand?”

She took a moment before answering. “Yes, of course.”

“You have been honest with me so far, yes?”

She was even more hesitant this time. “Yes.”

“Really?”

“Technically.”

He frowned at her. “Technically?”

She nodded, but she held her face low, not making eye contact.

“If you want me to teach you, you will tell me what you mean by that!”

“I...I haven’t said any lies,” she stammered. “I just...”

“Hmm? You just what?”

“I just haven’t told you everything. You haven’t asked everything and there wasn’t much time.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I haven’t asked everything, but I did ask you your name.”

“I told you. It’s...” She trailed off as she glanced up and noticed how he was looking at her.

“You told me it was Asa,” he said.

“It is!” she protested. “It’s my middle name, but it’s what I’ve been using in Quorge and...for a while now.”

Elderaan sighed. He supposed that she was right about “technically”, and he could understand her reluctance to use her given name. “Your first name,” he said, “it wouldn’t be Felitïa, would it? Hmm?”

She looked up at him and wiped the tears from her eyes. “How...how did...?”

Now it was his turn to feel uncomfortable. “Since we’re being honest with each other, I was feeling nosy last night and went through your pack. I saw the sword and put two and two together. You couldn’t have kept this from me forever, you know.”

She came back over to the table and sat down. “I know. I almost told you last night, since I knew I’d have to. I just...I didn’t know if...if you’d believe me. Plus, I’ve had to keep it secret for so long and I just... I don’t know.”

Elderaan reached across the table to pat her shoulder. “It’s all right. You do know, though don’t you, that if you’re discovered, they’ll execute me?”

“I would tell them that you didn’t kidnap me,” she protested. “I’d make sure they knew—”

“It wouldn’t matter. I’d be guilty of hiding you. You understand this, yes?”

She slumped over. “Yes. Does this mean you won’t teach me? I’d understand. I don’t want to get you killed.”

“To be completely honest, I’m not entirely sure. I need to think about it. Besides, we don’t even know if you have the talent. We’re going to have to arrange for Agernon to test you, and he may not be easy to convince. But you can remain at least until then.”

“Can we see him today?” Felitïa asked.

Elderaan laughed. “We’ll be lucky if we can get two feet outside the door after last night’s storm. No, we’re going to spend today clearing the snow from in front of the shop. We’ll need to be careful you don’t freeze of course, but unfortunately, we can’t get you warmer clothes until after the snow is cleared. We’ll take sufficient breaks to warm up, and you can tell me your full story during this time.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Nothing will be left out?”

“No, nothing.”

“Very well. Go upstairs and gather some blankets to help keep warm. I’ll get the shovel. I only have the one, so we’ll take turns. It’ll be good to have help. I’m getting too old to shovel snow. It does my back in. Well then, go on!”

“Yes, sir.” She hurried off.

* * * * *

“No! Absolutely not!” Agernon slammed the tip of his cane against the floor. “Get someone else.”

“There is no one else,” Elderaan said. “Name one other person in this city who can.”

“Fah! Not my problem.”

“Oh come now, Agernon. It’s not that much of an imposition.” They were in the small front living room of Agernon’s home. Felitïa stood to Elderaan’s side while Elderaan tried to reason with Agernon. It was going more or less the way Elderaan had expected.

“I won’t do it! Not for her!” Agernon prodded his cane towards Felitïa, who flinched and took a step back, collided with the table and knocked the deck of cards onto the floor. “Watch where you’re going!” Agernon snapped. “You break anything, you pay for it.”

“Sorry, sir,” Felitïa stammered and started to pick the cards up.

Elderaan placed himself between Agernon and Felitïa. “Agernon, please listen for a moment.”

“I’ve listened enough. I warned you about her, Elderaan. I told you she was trouble.”

“Yes, you did warn me,” Elderaan said. “But you got it wrong nonetheless. She’s not what you thought she was!”

“No, she’s worse.” Agernon tried to step around Elderaan towards Felitïa, but Elderaan moved to block him. “If I do as you ask, I could be executed for it.”

“If you do anything other than go to Lord Belone right this instant and tell him she’s here, you could be executed if they found out,” Elderaan said.

“Yes, and whose fault is that? Yours! For piling this shit on me!” Agernon turned away, slamming his cane down with each step he took. “Blasted nobles! Blasted royals!”

Felitïa looked up from collecting the cards. “You believe who I am, then?”

Agernon stopped and looked back at her. A low growl escaped his mouth. “I wouldn’t believe a word you said, girl, but I know Elderaan. If he’s convinced, then so am I.” He collapsed into one of the chairs and began rubbing his temples.

“You’ll do it?” Felitïa said, jumping to her feet and almost dropping the cards again.

“No, of course not. I said I was convinced of who you are, not that I’ll test you for magic.”

“At least give it some thought, hmm?” Elderaan said. “I’ll happily pay you for your services if you want.”

“Bah! I don’t want your money.” Agernon slouched over in his chair and grumbled for a moment before looking Elderaan in the eye. “Elderaan, you’re asking me to condone you teaching someone who is a symbol of nearly two centuries of Folith oppression. Just look at what Feodor Belone has done in the last twenty years. Quorge used to be a city renown for its magical education until he cut all our funding. Now, we’re just a bunch of rag-tag has-beens, handing out meaningless titles on a whim because there’s nothing else for us to do.”

“Oh come now,” Elderaan protested, “that’s hardly the girl’s fault.”

“No, it isn’t her fault, but that doesn’t change a thing. She is who she is and I am who I am. Never the two should meet as far as I’m concerned.”

Elderaan sighed and sat down in the other chair in the room. At least Agernon was starting to discuss things now, instead of just scream and yell. “Think of it this way. If she has the talent—which she might not even have, I should add—but if she does, my teaching her would be like a strike back against them. Think of it. A princess apprenticed to an Eloorin. Surely that has an appeal, hmm?”

“Except they could never know about it, so it would all be pointless.”

“Not at all. You and I would know. It could be a little way for you to thumb your nose to them.”

“I’ve got ways to do that already.”

Elderaan smiled. “And I’ve no doubt you’d love another, hmm. Come on, admit it.”

Agernon started to smile, but turned his head to hide it. “Maybe.”

“Besides,” Elderaan continued, “even though people would never know of a princess, they would come to know of a Folith apprenticed to an Eloorin. That must be almost as good, hmm?”

Agernon fidgeted in his seat.

“Well?” Elderaan pressed.

Agernon groaned. “I swear you’ll be the death of me one day, Elderaan.”

Felitïa was clutching the cards to her chest and staring at Agernon.

Agernon looked at her and sighed. “I’m going to regret this. Fine. I’ll do it. But I’ll need a few minutes to collect my thoughts first.”

Felitïa made a little squeak of joy.

“Oh, we weren’t expecting that you would do it today,” Elderaan said. “Take whatever time you need to prepare.”

Felitïa nodded. “I don’t mind waiting a few more days,” she said, trying, but not succeeding, to hide her excitement.

“Oh, I’ll do it today,” Agernon snapped. “Before I change my mind. I just need a few minutes first. Where’s that damn boy? Drummor!”

“Yes, sir?” A boy darted into the room. He was about the same age as Felitïa, though somewhat smaller and stockier. His mop of dark hair was a stark contrast to Agernon’s nearly bald head, but he had nearly the same tawny brown skin. Elderaan had not had the chance to meet Agernon’s new apprentice yet, but this was clearly him. Elderaan couldn’t see a lot of resemblance to Ezmelda, but there was some.

“Make us some tea,” Agernon said.

“Yes, sir,” the boy replied and started out of the room again.

“And bring me my tobacco!” Agernon called after him.

“Yes, sir!”

“How’s he working out?” Elderaan asked.

“Pheh, he has his uses,” Agernon replied. “To be honest, it’s nice to have another person around to take the stress off of doing everything myself.” He looked over at Felitïa. “But that does not mean I can’t do things myself!”

“Of course not,” Felitïa said.

Elderaan chuckled. He understood what Agernon meant. It had been a week since the blizzard had brought Felitïa to his door, and in that time, Felitïa had thrown herself into helping out around the shop. She had started cooking their meals and had taken over care of the rats—though she had at first been horrified to learn that Elderaan sold the rats to people intending to experiment on them. She had even helped him start organizing his records, something he had been intending to do for years, but the pile kept getting larger and larger and more daunting.

It had taken a few days to recover fully from the blizzard, and Elderaan had put off bringing Felitïa to see Agernon to allow Agernon time to recover as well. At least, that was what Elderaan had told Felitïa. Truth was, he put it off partly out of nervousness over Agernon’s reaction and partly because he wanted time to learn more about the girl—to be sure he was making the right decision and that he could trust her.

The wait had also provided time to acquire new clothes for her and to get a bench that he converted into a makeshift bed for her. Just two nights in the chair had made that his highest priority.

Felitïa had kept her word about being honest with him and had told him all about what had happened in the year since she had disappeared. Not surprisingly, it was nothing like any of the rumours, though some aspects of it might have seemed almost as far-fetched. To think that the Patriarch of the Universal Religion himself had had a hand in it all! Elderaan doubted there was anyone anywhere in Arnor who would believe that, but Elderaan was good at telling when other people were lying to him. It was a necessary skill for a practitioner of his magical discipline. Plus, she had agreed to him using some spells to ensure her honesty (he had forgotten that youthful exuberance at encountering magic that she was now reminding him of).

Apart from the Patriarch’s involvement, many people would probably be disappointed that Felitïa’s story was not all that exciting. They would probably even find it boring. She had not been kidnapped. She had simply run away. Of course, a princess running away wasn’t an easy thing to pull off, so she had enlisted help. Apparently, Patriarch Ardon had been overseeing her religious education personally and the two had become close. For a couple years, he had been like a father to her, filling the parental role she was not getting from her real parents. She confided in him that she wanted to leave, and she had somehow convinced him to help her do it.

Elderaan sighed. Apparently, she had a knack for convincing old men to do what she wanted.

Drummor came back with a bowl of tobacco and placed it on the table. While Agernon took out his pipe and filled it, the boy went over to the fireplace, collected a spill from the vase there, lit one end, and brought it to Agernon to light the pipe. Elderaan took the opportunity to fill his own pipe, which Drummor lit for him. The boy pinched the spill out and hurried out of the room to collect the tea.

Once Agernon had drunk some tea and had smoked his fill, he announced that he was ready to begin. “Drummor, move the table aside.”

Felitïa helped the boy clear the cards and candles from the table and then push it aside.

“Hi, I’m Drummor,” he said, holding his hand out in greeting.

Felitïa reached out to take it, but Agernon interrupted. “That’s enough of that! Once we’re finished here, you’ll be having nothing more to do with her.”

Drummor’s hand dropped back to his side. “Yes, sir.”

Elderaan stifled a chuckle. Agernon could be quite the stubborn bastard sometimes. Of course, Elderaan had no illusions that he could be quite stubborn himself, but Agernon took the prize. The irony here, though, was that to hear Felitïa talk about them, she had just as much, if not more, disdain for her family as Agernon did. It wasn’t the same thing, Elderaan knew—hers was the disdain of a child who didn’t always get what she wanted and not the disdain of an old man embittered by oppression—but it amused him nevertheless.

“Stand here, girl.” Agernon motioned to a spot on the floor where the table had previously stood. Felitïa moved to where he indicated. “Don’t move,” he said.

Agernon then began to circle her, peering at her from every angle. He circled several times, double-checking whatever he was checking. Elderaan had seen Agernon do this a couple times in the past and he had done the same thing each time, but Elderaan couldn’t quite work out what the purpose was. It didn’t seem to be part of the spell he was to cast—the wizard who had tested Elderaan so very many years ago hadn’t done it, although every wizard put their own spin on spells. In this case, though, as best Elderaan could tell, Agernon did this just to satisfy some unstated curiosity. Perhaps Elderaan would ask him about it sometime, but he knew better than to interrupt now. For now, he just puffed quietly away on his pipe and let Agernon do what he needed.

Felitïa was shifting her weight from one foot to the other and had started to turn her head to follow Agernon’s movements. “I told you to stay still,” Agernon said and Felitïa snapped to attention.

After circling a couple more times, Agernon finally stopped and knelt in front of Felitïa. “All right, child. Take a deep breath and exhale slowly. That’s it. Calm yourself.”

Elderaan inhaled deeply on his pipe and leaned forward. He was beginning to get just as nervous about this as Felitïa.

“This may tingle a little,” Agernon said, “especially if you have the talent. But it is imperative that you remain absolutely still. Do you understand?”

Felitïa nodded, and Agernon held out his hands to either side of her head. Closing his eyes, he began to mutter under his breath. Felitïa stared back at him fearfully, not even blinking. Half a minute or more passed before Agernon touched his hands to her ears and traced out small patterns on them. She blinked suddenly at the shock, and her face momentarily contorted in worry, but she had not moved enough to break the spell.

As a soft blue glow appeared around Felitïa, Elderaan released the breath he had been holding.

Agernon lowered his arms and stood up. “That’s it. You have the talent, child.”

A great smile grew across Felitïa’s face, and she let out a squeal. “I do?” She attempted to give Agernon a hug, but a look from the old wizard paused her.

Elderaan was not one for shows of affection, but when she came to him, he placed his pipe aside and let her hug him. “Does this mean you’ll teach me? Do I have lots of talent? Will I be powerful?”

“Impossible to say,” Agernon answered. “The spell doesn’t reveal that much.”

“I’ve heard that the Isyar have ways of gauging the extent of one’s talent,” Elderaan said. “Some can even tell at a glance in the same way they can tell if you have talent to begin with.”

“Those are just stories,” Agernon said. “Like Volg shapeshifters and Darkers with super speed.”

Elderaan smiled. “Yes, well, whatever the case, we cannot tell how much magical energy resides within you. In time, you’ll discover the extent of your own abilities. Even if your talent is small, however, a good wizard can learn to use that amount effectively, becoming as powerful as those with more talent. However, until you know the extent of your abilities, there is great danger in casting any spells at all. If you try to draw too much power from within yourself, you can drain yourself. Sometimes damage yourself permanently. Sometimes, it can even be deadly. Because of this, if I am to teach you, you must promise me one thing. Until I say otherwise, you are never to use any magic without supervision. Even if you think you have a good reason. If you do not agree to this, I won’t teach you. As simple as that. What do you say, hmm?”

Felitïa nodded without hesitation. “I agree. I agree.”

“Very well. I’ll teach you. But if I ever discover that you’ve cast any magic behind my back, I will dismiss you immediately without hesitation. I will not tolerate disobedience. Is that understood?”

Felitïa continued to nod her head without stopping. “Yes! Yes!”

“Excellent,” Elderaan said. “That settles that. Now then, apart from the people here, no one knows who you really are and we need to keep it that way. Outside of the four of us, you should continue going by Asa. Also, you should avoid the other Foliths in the city as much as you can. They’ll start poking their noses in, undoubtedly, but avoid them as best you can.”

Felitïa nodded.

“Good. Now then, I’m getting hungry, and I’m sure Agernon is too. Why don’t you and Drummor go prepare us all something to eat? There’s a good girl.”

“Now, just a minute,” Agernon said. “I expect you two to go and leave me alone now. I’ll get my own damn dinner.”

“Well, if you insist,” Elderaan replied. “But after everything you’ve done for her today, it’s the least Felitïa can do to repay you.”

Agernon scowled. “She needs to do a lot more to repay me. Oh, fine then. Stay.”

Elderaan winked at Felitïa. “Go on then. I’m hungry.”

Felitïa curtsied and darted off.

* * * * *

“It’s your turn,” Agernon said.

“Why do I have to do this?” Felitïa complained.

“You fail,” Elderaan replied. “Rest a moment and start over.”

“I said it’s your turn,” Agernon repeated.

Elderaan glanced at the cards in his hand and grimaced. He shot a quick look at Agernon to see if he had noticed. Maybe he would just think he was bluffing. Probably not. Picking a card from the less-than-desirable selection, he played it, and turned back to Felitïa.

She had put the books aside and had sat on the floor. “Right,” he said. “Rest over. Begin again.”

With a very audible sigh, she picked up the books and balanced them again on her head. Once they were stable, she lowered her arms and stood there, her face wrenched in concentration.

“The key is mental discipline, Felitïa,” Elderaan said. “All wizards require it, but mentalists doubly so. You have to learn focus and concentration.”

“For someone babbling about focus,” Agernon grumbled, “you might have some for our game.”

Felitïa giggled, and the books wobbled. She tried to adjust her stance to stop them, but within moments, they all tumbled to the floor. “I’ll never manage this,” she pouted.

Poor child. She hadn’t quite grasped yet that that wasn’t the point of the exercise. “Concentrate, Felitïa. You’ll never be able to cast magic if you can’t concentrate on a simple exercise. Pick up the books and try again.”

“But it’s not simple,” she protested as she gathered up the books.

“Neither is magic.”

Agernon stood up. “I’m afraid I have to be on my way; however, I think I should be declared winner of today’s game by default.” He grabbed his cloak from the chair where it was lying. “Considering your lack of attention to it.”

“Hmm? Yes, as you will,” Elderaan replied, and then realised just how rude he was being. “I’m sorry, Agernon. Won’t happen again. See you next time?”

Agernon gave a non-committal grunt, and shoved his hat onto his head. “Good day.” He snatched his cane, and headed for the way out.

When he was gone, Elderaan sighed. “Run along, Felitïa. That’s enough for tonight. Remind me never to try to teach you and play cards at the same time again.”

Felitïa smiled, dropped the books, and ran from the room.

“Especially since my own failure to do both ruins what I’m trying to teach you.” This master-apprentice thing was taking a bit of getting used to.

* * * * *

Felitïa opened the cage and picked up one of the rats as gently as she could manage. When new ones arrived, she liked to take the opportunity to get to know them. The rat’s little pink nose twitched rapidly. She liked when they did that. It was cute.

She rubbed the rat’s back, and looked at Elderaan beside her. “I’ve been wondering. Why are they always white? And why do people want to buy them? There are rats everywhere. Can’t they just catch one themselves?”

“The white ones are rare,” Elderaan replied. “Not so easy to find. Though, to be honest, I don’t actually know why the colour is important. Perhaps people think their rarity brings some sort of extra prestige. Or maybe they’re just hardier than other colours. Who knows? As for the rats themselves, enchanters find them useful for testing spells on before using them on humans.”

“I’m calling this one Lon the Third. We sold Lon the Second yesterday.” The rat squealed and wriggled in her hands and then snapped at her. In shock, she dropped it back into the cage.

“Careful,” Elderaan said. “Did it bite you?”

Felitïa shook her head, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “I’m okay.” This didn’t normally happen. She was always gentle with them, and none of them had ever bitten her before. Had she accidentally hurt it somehow? In the cage, it was running about. “I don’t get it. Why’s he so agitated?”

“Perhaps there’s something you can do to calm him,” Elderaan said.

Felitïa looked up at him, a tingle of excitement starting to spread through her. Did he mean what she thought he meant? Rats didn’t normally bite like that, and Elderaan hadn’t snapped at her when he’d told her to be careful. He would normally snap if she’d done something wrong. “Did you do this? I didn’t see you.”

“You weren’t exactly paying attention to me, and I can be subtle, you know.”

Felitïa nearly squeaked from joy. Elderaan had taught her her first spell a couple days ago after nearly six months of waiting!

In the cage, Lon the Third was still running about, stirring up the other rats a little in the process. She kept her eyes on Lon and concentrated, reaching for the reserves of energy inside her. The feel of the magic began to wash through her. Her whole body began to tingle, and she shook slightly.

“Be calm, Felitïa,” Elderaan said. “When you’re calm, you have much greater control. Lose your cool, and the magic could fail you.”

Felitïa took a deep breath and muttered the incantation; the magic released. Then the tiredness came. It had done that last time, too. “Did I do too much again?” Lon had lain down and gone to sleep.

“Perhaps a little,” Elderaan answered. “You tell me.”

“I feel tired, and it’s only one simple spell.”

“You’ll learn, Felitïa. Be patient.”

“But I don’t think I have very much talent. I mean, if I’m so tired so quickly…”

“I suspect you have more talent than you yet realise, Felitïa. But even if you don’t, it doesn’t matter. The rituals and incantations we use are just guides. Remember that. You must tailor every spell to you. A good wizard learns to tweak the spell so that it achieves for him the desired result while using as little of his personal energy as possible. Now, finish your chores, and then get some rest.”

“Is my room finished yet?” she asked.

“Not yet, but soon. The builders need another day or two. Now, back to work.”

Felitïa nodded, and returned to the tasks he had set her.

* * * * *

The streets were noisier than usual today. Quorge was a loud, busy city most days, but today didn’t seem any busier than usual. For some reason, people were just speaking and yelling more loudly than Felitïa was used to. The line for the well was longer than normal, though, so maybe the streets were busier. She wasn’t sure anymore. It was becoming difficult to focus, and her head was starting to hurt.

When she had first started doing chores for Elderaan, she had jumped into it eagerly—anything to please her new teacher. Then after a few months, she had started to resent having to do everything around the place, and rationalisations that he was an old man and deserved to be repaid for the lessons he gave her had little effect on those feelings. Now, nearly a year and a half after starting her training, she had just learnt to live with it. She didn’t enjoy it, but she didn’t resent it either. The chores simply had to be done, and she was the one who had to do them.

An old woman pushed her way in front of her. Felitïa was about to say something, but the scowl on the woman’s face made her decide otherwise. There were many people in the city who were suspicious and distrustful of Elderaan because he was a wizard. These people distrusted wizards in general, and so distrusted Felitïa, too. It didn’t help that she was a Folith.

She was definitely getting a headache. Far too much noise. Weird. The hustle and bustle of the city didn’t normally affect her like this. She tried to focus on her concentration exercises, but to little avail. Perhaps she was coming down with something. She’d been experiencing some stomach cramps recently.

“Wizards,” the old woman said. “Totally untrustworthy. If you don’t watch your back, they’ll turn you into a toad or something worse. Why won’t anyone do something? It’s time innocent people got some protection.” The woman continued to babble.

“Please,” Felitïa said. “I don’t mean you any harm. Even if I did, I couldn’t possibly—”

She stopped as the old woman turned to glare at her. Her mouth wasn’t moving, but she was still babbling. At least, Felitïa could hear someone babbling—or was it many people? The pain in her head increased. Everyone was yelling at her, or at each other, or, or…

The sound was deafening. It was like everyone had suddenly directed all their personal conversations at her.

“This line’s moving too slowly. Father will be angry with me if I don’t get back soon.”

“Ha! What a fool! This little trinket is worth five times what he just sold it to me for.”

“I know that statuette is worth much more than what he gave me, but it doesn’t matter. I now have enough money to pay my lease on the store. I won’t lose the business after all!”

“What a beautiful day!”

“I wonder what Mommy would do if I threw my frog at her.”

Dizziness washed over her, and she stumbled about, trying not to fall, hands over her ears, trying to block the sound. People were staring at her, some angrily, some with concern. But they were all blurry. No, it was just the pain messing her vision. She hoped. “Please stop! Stop sending me your thoughts!”

Thoughts? How could she be hearing thoughts? She fell to her knees and screamed. The world around her became a jumble of disconnected sights and sounds...and thoughts. Is she all right? Where am I? Someone get some help! Does it really matter? Who is she? She’s that Folith girl who’s apprenticed to that wizard. It matters. The poor girl. It’s what you get for fooling around with powers not meant for mortal hands. She is here with us. Maybe the wizard will know what to do. The most beautiful woman. Damn wizards! She is powerful indeed if she can see us in this place.

* * * * *

Felitïa gasped and woke up, her head pounding. Something had happened at the well—something at the edge of her memory. She tried to concentrate on what it was, but her head hurt too much. Slowly the pain subsided, but the memory was gone.

She was lying in her bedroom at the back of Elderaan’s Mystic Palace. Sitting up, she looked around, spotting Elderaan sitting in the room with her, dozing. Felitïa could feel something...in her head, like... Thoughts, like at the well. But no, it was different. Not as intense. Not clear. But she could sense something. This concerned her. No wait. It wasn’t her concern. Was it? This was confusing. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Now she really was concerned, but there were also now two completely separate feelings of concern in her head and one wasn’t her own. What was going on?

“Elderaan?” she said.

He snapped out of his half-asleep state and looked up. “Ah, Felitïa, my child. You’re awake at last. They brought you here after you collapsed by the well. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I figure letting you rest would help. I never realised that this could be so severe; otherwise, I’d have been more prepared for it. This really is the sort of thing you need a mother-figure around for. Not some doddering old man. Maybe I should have asked for Ezmelda’s help or any of the women at the Hall of Knowledge. Hell, even Angelida. Are you all right?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. Did he know what was happening to her? What did he mean by mother-figure or getting Ezmelda? “I feel strange. I heard things.” That feeling of concern that wasn’t her own had changed to worry and near panic. It almost made her want to panic too.

“Heard things?” Elderaan said. “Explain.”

“Thoughts, I think,” she said. His eyes widened. “By the well, I could hear everyone’s thoughts. At first, I thought they were just voices. There were so many of them and they were so loud. But it’s calmed down now. And there was something else.” The panicked feeling began to fade as a sense of intrigue and curiosity rose. These still weren’t her feelings, though. Were they somehow Elderaan’s? She really wanted to panic now.

Elderaan nodded and remained quiet for a moment. “Hmm,” he finally said. “You never cease to amaze me, Felitïa. You’re thirteen now. That would be about the right age, maybe even a little late. And with the blood on your clothes...Well, I never would have expected this in a hundred years.”

“The right age for what?” she asked. The alien panicked feeling was completely gone, now replaced by wonder and delight.

“Puberty.” He stood up and began to pace around the room, all the while muttering, “Remarkable.”

This was not what Felitïa had understood puberty to be like. “Is this normal?”

Elderaan chuckled. “Oh, dear me, no. Not for the average person at any rate. These abilities, when they occur, usually manifest themselves during puberty. Truly remarkable. The odds of all this—well, I don’t know what the odds are. You’re absolutely certain that you could hear people’s thoughts? You weren’t just delirious? What am I thinking now? Hmm?”

Felitïa concentrated for a moment. “I don’t know. It’s... It’s different now.”

“Go on,” Elderaan prodded.

The alien feelings of wonder and delight were still there, but mixed now with a bit of impatience. “It’s not clear,” she said. “You’re excited, I think. But I can tell that by looking at you. And you’re impatient because I’m not answering fast enough, but you’re always impatient.” A flare of annoyance joined the outside feelings for a moment. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear the thoughts as clearly as I could at the well. It’s more like just feelings now.”

“Interesting,” Elderaan said. He bent over her and carefully examined her eyes. “Allow me to probe your thoughts for a moment, my dear.” She nodded her consent, and he gently took hold of her head between his hands. “Look into my eyes.”

She did as she was told, and a moment later, the energy of his spell coursed through her. This was a spell she had to learn! It was probably beyond her at this point in her training, though. She could still only manage the simplest of things. Silly her! If she really was telepathic, she wouldn’t need this spell!

Elderaan let go of her a few seconds later, but the feel of the spell lingered for a little while. “Well, I can’t say for certain why you heard more at the well, Felitïa. I’ve never actually met a telepath before. However, from what I understand, the initial manifestation of telepathic abilities is often much stronger than the abilities end up. I would say that while you were asleep, your abilities had a chance to settle to the level at which they might remain.”

“So, I’m only partially telepathic then?” That was a disappointment. Or, remembering the headache, maybe it was a relief.

“Empathic possibly,” the old wizard said. “It is also possible that they might increase again with time, as you get older and learn to use them. Whatever the case, it still doesn’t change how remarkable the whole situation is.”

Felitïa lay back down. She was tired and needed time to think about what was happening to her. “I think I’m going to try to get some more sleep.”

Elderaan nodded and headed to the door, but stopped. “One last thing. The final decision is, of course, up to you, Felitïa. However, I would advise that you tell only those you trust most about this.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Well, I was saying how remarkable it all is. Others will think so, too. Telepathy is extremely rare. Even amongst the Isyar, only one in five hundred is a telepath; amongst Humans, it’s more like one in five hundred thousand. In addition to that, you had the opportunity to begin studying magic before your telepathic powers manifested. Now, it’s not unusual for a telepath to start studying magic after their powers have manifested; the added recognition that comes from being telepathic ensures this. But normally, it is very difficult to gain a teacher in magic. Few have the opportunity for that before their powers appear. Finally, of the three disciplines of magic still known to humans, mentalism is the most suitable for a telepath. And you just happened to find a teacher in mentalism without even knowing you were telepathic.

“Felitïa, you have beaten a great number of difficult odds to get where you are now. Others out there would also be aware of this, some of them—Darkers and worse—less than scrupulous. They would want to study you, to learn how you came to be how you are. They would use all the powers at their disposal to do this. You would be treated as nothing more than a test subject, no better than the rats I sell in the store. Do not advertise your abilities to the world. Keep them to yourself and your closest friends. No others. At least, not until you have the strength to defend yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” Felitïa said. “I will remember that.”

“Now, get some sleep,” Elderaan said and left the room. Shortly after, the extra feelings in her head faded away and were gone.

Fears—her own fears—of what Elderaan had told her kept her awake awhile. She did not want to become a test subject. Would these people do that even to a princess of the realm? That was, if they even realised she was a princess? Of course, she had thrown away her birthright—something for which she had no regrets, mind—so she could hardly rely on it. Eventually, the exhaustion she was still feeling overtook the fear, and she fell asleep.

* * * * *

A sudden pain, like that of a pinch, came from her elbow, but Felitïa ignored it. It was followed quickly by another one at her ankle. She ignored that too. Four Elderaans sat at the dinner table, one on each side. Felitïa studied each carefully. All had the same silvery grey receding hair, the same grey eyes, the same large nose and ears.

“Peering more closely like that won’t help you,” they all said. “You should know better than that. Concentrate on your thoughts. Remember that it’s your own mind that’s betraying you here.” She felt several more pinches across her back and down her legs.

Focusing on her exercises, she tried to clear her mind, using her own telepathic abilities to find the intrusion. A burning smell reached her nose, and she spun around to check the roast.

“Concentrate on your thoughts,” the Elderaans said, “but don’t forget about your surroundings.” Their noses wrinkled. “You’ve burnt my dinner, haven’t you?”

Felitïa pulled the charred piece of meat from the fire and shoved it aside. She hadn’t realised so much time had passed. “Sorry,” she said, as several more pinches raced across her body.

“Don’t let yourself be distracted.”

Right. No distractions. She had to ignore her now aching body. This time, she was going to succeed at this. Relaxing, she tried to clear her mind again, letting all her own thoughts go. Yet something remained. She could feel it there. Then, with a little mental shove, it was gone, and so were three of the Elderaans and all the pain from the non-existent pinches.

The remaining Elderaan smiled. “Good girl.”

“I did it!”

“Yes, you did. Now, maybe next time you’ll be able to do it without burning dinner. In time, you should be able to do it without a second thought.”

Felitïa sat down in one of the now empty chairs. “I’ll make you another dinner.”

“Of course you will. Now, tell me about the spells I used. You watched me carefully?”

She nodded.

“Good. If you were to make images of yourself the same way, how would it affect you?”

Felitïa thought carefully back to what Elderaan had done, remembering his precise posture and the movements he had made. “I think that if I were to cast it the same way you did, it would drain me about half way. However, if I were to lower my arms a little, I think I could make the drain negligible.”

Elderaan’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Negligible, eh? Show me.”

Felitïa nodded eagerly and started to get up.

“But don’t stand up,” Elderaan added.

Felitïa sat back down. “But that changes everything.”

“Does it now? Too difficult, is it? In that case, fetch me my pipe and then make me dinner. That will be all for today.”

“No, no, I can do it,” she said, desperately trying to re-evaluate the spell.

Elderaan nodded for her to proceed. When she failed to do so immediately, he said, “Well?”

She nodded. “Okay, I think I’m ready.” She cast the spell. Nothing happened.

“Not bad,” Elderaan said. “But there’s only one image, not three, and I can see by your disappointed expression, that you forgot to allow yourself to see the image as well.”

“Sorry.” She released the spell.

“Not at all,” Elderaan said. “You did very well, given the circumstances. In time, you’ll learn to improvise. How do you feel?”

Felitïa thought for a moment. “Not too bad. It didn’t drain me much.”

“Open your mind to me,” he said. “Let me feel what you feel.”

She came over and knelt beside him, allowing him to take her head in his hands. The familiar feel of the magic coursed through her, and then he let go, nodding.

“Well, your concentration may still need a great deal of work, my dear, but you have certainly learnt the extent of your own abilities and how to deal with them. Do you think you’re ready to cast spells on your own?”

Felitïa squealed. “Yes! Yes, definitely! It’s been three years. I know I’m ready.”

“Very well,” Elderaan said. “You no longer need my supervision to cast any spells. What do you say to that, hmm?”

Felitïa hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. He blushed and his embarrassment flooded through her. “Thank you!”

“Now, get me my pipe and my dinner.”

“Right away! Thank you!”