“This is the day a few of you have been waiting for. This is a day that may change your life. Do you all believe that?” the old man asks the five students sitting at the round sooty table. All heads nod. “Liars. This spell is nothing but a basic transmutation. The base element in the glass cup in front of you is copper. Marglo works this metal with tin in order to make bronze, a very useful metal. Today you will learn to transform copper into tin. Yes, Listra?”

“Would it not be easier to dig it out of the earth?”

The old man eyes the young girl for a moment. “That is a fair question, Listra. Why would anyone want to change, say, lead to gold? I’m sure everyone would like to have more coin in their purses. Would you not?” He gives a nod to her; she blushes. “I do not mean to mock you for your question. Man has always sought to transform many plentiful, but poor, metal ores into rare and valuable metals for many reasons. We use magic as a tool to change the nature of our surroundings. Without magic you might as well wish the rock to change. You are asking the rock to be something that it does not want to be.

“Take, as a good example, the sky. You see it as blue and for most of the day it will remain blue. In order to change this you have several choices: you can create clouds to make the sky gray or creamy; you can change the way people see the sky so that it can be green; you can just wait for night to come; or you can change the way the sky acts so that it shows us a blending of colors.

The old man circles the table. Each of his student’s eyes follow him with hungering gazes. “You need magic to will the environment of the sky. That is a very powerful and dangerous spell. Today, though, we will be asking a small part of the natural world to go against its own rules and follow ours.”

The door to the chamber crashes open and, haloed from the outside light, stood a lithe girl. Her arms seem too thin for her body and the wear on her clothes points out her lowly status. “Oulette. Thank you for joining us this morning. I take it your beauty sleep was complete?”

The other students chuckle while the unkempt student prostrates before the old man. “A beg for your pardon, Master Veris. You assigned me a scroll to study and I spent the night memorizing it.”

The old man furrowed his brow. “Are you saying your tardiness is my fault?”

“No, Master! I only give a reason for my tardiness. I meant no disrespect.”

He eyes the student very carefully. “I could excuse this one tardiness, if it were not for the fresh maris clove in the hem of your dress. The nearest area where the clove grows is on the far side of the mountain.” More chuckles from the other students, though Listra manages to hide her smile.

Oulette’s cheeks burn at the accusation. “You are correct. I have deceived you, Master.” She sucks in her breath. “I did study into the night, but awoke early this morning. I walked along the mountain path, pondering what I have studied and lost track of the sun.”

“It is a cloudy day,” Master Veris says. “Take your seat and we will continue today’s lesson. Your punishment will come afterwards.”

The chastised Oulette walks backward with hands at her side and head bowed. She dare not raise them until she seats herself at the oak table. Across from her Listra shoots a devious glance. Oulette frowns back as she adjusts her blond hair and the plain tiara crowning her head. She looks down to the table end where Master Veris stands and sees Siona give a quick, sly look before glancing at her cronie, Gherrich.

“Now, everyone take the bowl into your hands and concentrate on the copper. Notice each detail: how the red-orange color is nearly consistent over the entire chunk; the reflective properties it has, even in this dimly lit room; and the way it even rolls in your cup, if it is shaped well enough.”

Gherick, one of the larger students and slightly less unkept than Oulette, takes the bowl up to his nose and sniffs it. “Master, this chunk does not have a smell.”

“Ah, not only astute but attentive,” Master Veris says. “Not many mages would think of smelling an object before transmuting it. Adding details about the object will help you change its nature from one form to another.” From his sleeve, the old man withdraws a bowl similar to those the other students are holding. He shows the contents to each student. “I have tin in this bowl and you will glance at it for a short time. Unlike other magicks, transmutation only needs a short familiarization of the final form. You must study the original form for long periods, but only a brief time for the final form.”

Oulette looks at the tin ore and notes a few details before Master Veris moves onto the next student. She continues to study her lump of copper before her. She strains to remember all the details, but her mind feels blank. The details do not coalesce for her.

The rock sparks. Oulette blinks at the stone and wonders at the tiny flash in her cup. She looks to the candles that light up the room. Though bright, the flames are tempered at their wicks. She returns her gaze into the cup, itching her brow where her tiara sits.

“Is there something wrong with your eyes, Oulette?”

“Nothing is wrong except for my ineptitude, Master Veris.” Another sigh. “I cannot focus long on the rock. No matter how many times I’ve tried, I cannot look at the rock for any amount of time. I am sorry.”

The master eyes the student for a moment. “Continue for a while longer before giving up. The very first mage to cast a spell did so with much more study than I have done in all my years.”

Oulette tilts her head to Master Veris. She recognizes the turn in his words, but is lost on the meaning. She breathes in the air and exhales slowly. She stares at the jagged form. She tries to block any memories that might force their way into her mind’s forefront: the crisp morning air during her walk; her breakfast that is not settling well in her stomach; the snickering chuckle from Siona at the far end of the table; Marglo pounding heavy steel with his smithing hammer and the sweat beading around his bare muscled arm.

Another spark. Oulette knows the stone sparked. And there it is again. Then two sparks in the space of one breath. Her fear climbs as the stone dances within her cup. She looks up at the others at the table and, to her surprise, all the faces wear the veneer of surprise and all staring at her. She feels her face take on the same form, and when she looks down she sees the stone is spinning rapidly with a now constant ring of sparks. She yelps at the offending stone and panicly tosses it and the cup away from her. The stone flees the cup and careens over Listra’s head, crashing into the wall where it audibly explodes into fire and sooty smoke. Listra stumbles off her stool and around the table to where Oulette stands, though just to get away from the explosion and what else the jumping stone might do.

Master Veris opens a slatted window and, with a clasp of his hands, air whips around the room to gather the smoke and cinder. The maliferous stench vacates the now meadow scented room. He walks around the table and examines the impact mark on the wall. He scratches the soot out and sniffs the residue. He then turns to Oulette. “I said transmute, not destroy.”

“I swear, Master Veris, I did not intone any spell! I did as you asked and stared at the rock. I looked at the cracks and the nooks and the jaggies! I swear to it!” She swallows hard. “I did not cast a spell.”

He looks to the other students in the room. “The rest of you, to your quarters and study the Nevinger scrolls for the rest of the day.” Grumblings and protests fill the air. “No complaints!”

The students file out one by one until Oulette and Master Veris remain. “You were sent here to learn the auspices of Magic. Yet mishap following mishap has dogged your experiments. I am inclined to send you back to Innsbruck.”

“Please do not send me back! I beg you not to! I will try harder next time!”

“Next time? Next time might mean Listra ends up as an ashen corpse!”

“I have given so much to the craft and to your lessons! Please believe me! I don’t want to leave!”

Master Veris breathes heavily through his nose. “This is not a decision I come to lightly. These past seven months have seen no progress from you. Every spell that you attempt is catastrophic and those spells are for the apprentice. What more if you try to cast a more dangerous spell?” He places his fingers to his forehead. “I have made my decision.

Master Veris walks around the table and clasps his hand on Oulette’s shoulder. “I do not blame you for your errors. For some magic is not their calling. For others, magic is a curse for they cannot even master the most simple spells.”

Oulette looks into Master Veris’ eyes. “But I have practiced the gestures and repeated the runes on parchment. Why must all my spells go awry?”

He takes her hands into his and shakes his head. “You will have to find answers from another mage.”

“But, Master, there are no other mages greater than you.”

The old man smiles through his gray dusted beard. “That is a kind sentiment, Oulette. However, that is not true. I may be the most celebrated mage this side of the Forlanger, but I am not the greatest. There are others who might have insight to what ails you, Oulette, but I am not one of them.”

“But I tried so hard.”

“I know you have. Understand that this is not what I want, but what is best for you. I cannot continue to teach you if you do not show progress. Of course, your failure might not be from lack of trying.”

Oulette bows her head. “Yes, Master Veris.” She sucks in a sob. “When do you wish me to leave?”

“I will have Marglo hitch Lady Linda to a wagon and bring you to Shallsbury. He will give you coin to buy a cart that can bear you to Innsbruck. Midmorn tomorrow should suffice.” He holds Oulette’s hands in his. “This is just the end of one story for you.”

She weeps. “This was the only story I ever had.”

Oulette walks down the dirt path that carves itself through the tall grass. Master Veris’s land is a plain of wild grass and vegitation on the eastern face of a large mountain. Here in the Krinsfolk Range the wind howls all around the mountains except for the small pocket where Master Veris and the village of Meadowmount has settled down. The day air is crisp and clean from the near constant breezes that blow through and dropping all matter of seed and dirt. The water from the morning dew and the frosted mountain peaks sustain the life of the flowers and grass and that of Meadowmount. A few of the locals would boast the name, though the local trade of hay, goats milk, cheese, and beer leave something more to be desired by outsiders. A simple life could be made on the slopes and, if one studies to be a mage, was not distracted by the daily commotion of a large city.

Oulette took well to the land and enjoyed the wildness of the flowers and grasses spread among the occasional outcropping. She would lose herself running in the wind and flop down amidst sandpaisies and morning knots, flowers that strangely thrived in the high wet mountains. She would also pluck maris cloves, a sign of luck to those who find the petals freshly dewed blue in the morning sun.

She is lost in thought, absently following the road as she contemplates her fate. She does not notice that Listra is in step with her. Though longer in leg and larger in the torso, Listra still manages to seem far greater to Oulette.

“Are you really leaving?” Listra asks. A small nod from Oulette seems more a shout. “You should not have to leave. You have studied harder than any of us here.”

“He knows that,” Oulette says, her dry voice betraying her sorrow.

“Maybe you should be in a different study. Master Veris can teach you enchantments.”

“If I cause a rock to explode through no effort on my part, then I should not be practicing any magic.”

Listra snaps her fingers. “You can try summoning. Many lords and ladies require quick transport and a summoner can make that easy.”

“I do not want to explain how a duke suddenly finds himself with his prized hounds’ tails and no hound heads. Besides, I do not wish to be hunted for my mishaps.”

Listra frowns. “I am trying to help.”

Oulette looks at the raven haired girl. “I think I am beyond help now. I have to return to Lakesmere and face the duke and duchess. I have to explain why I was cast out of Master Veris’s lessons.”

A voice from a rare tree calls out. “Do my ears decieve me? Is our little tramp leaving us so soon?”

Listra’s blood boils at the cutting voice. “Do you stand behind the beautiful tree to hide your unseeming façade?” she says with dripping venom.

Siona steps from behind the tree and faces the two girls. “I did not believe that envy could be made so vocal.” She turns to Oulette. “So, you are finally ridding us of your ineptitude? Do you not feel any more shame for remaining for so long? Your shortcomings were apparent, but you were so blind to them and insisted that you can learn even the common spells.”

Oulette grips the hems of her own cloak. “I have learned plenty, even if I have not succeeded.”

“You always failed. You failed at conjuring a flame, you failed at transmuting a stupid rock, and you failed at enchanting a bowl of water. If it were possible, you would probably fail at reading, too.”

“Oh, but you demonstrated that well your first day here,” Listra chimes in. “Master Veris could not stifle that chortle.”

Siona blushes. Her stare returns to Oulette. “There is no place for you here, tramp. You are worthless dregs and should be tossed out with the leftover scraps for the pigs.”

Oulette tilts her head to the right and looks at the crimson haired lass. Since Oulette’s arrival Siona has not stopped the verbal torturing and constant pranks. It seems that at every turn of the path or around a hut there was Siona baiting and trapping her in one embarassing moment after another. The vile adversity is so much that Oulette made pains to avoid confronting Siona.

Oulette decides that now is when she stands.

“Tell me, does it burn your heart that no one here looks at you? Does your hate build as you find attention poured on me as I fail even while you continue to succeed?”

“I despise you and your kind!” Siona spits.

“And yet, to you, Master Veris seems to favor me. You must feel betrayed that he spent so many hours to help me study, to hone what little craft I might have had.” Oulette straightens her posture. “You are the envious one. Does it hurt to know that in the morning Marglo will drive me to Shallsbury? Does it burn to know that I have spent afternoons in Marglo’s company, a man whom you could not even get a glance from? I would even bet that you dreamed you were the lass wrapped up in his strong muscular arms deep in the haystacks. I can tell you I felt what it was like to be embraced within them.”

“So you admit that you are a failed whore!”

“I’d rather be called a failed whore than be invisible to those around me. No matter what you do, you will not get his attention. I did and without effort. You work so hard to dominate those around you and all you managed to do was get Gherrich.”

“Oh, Gherrich was mine so long ago. He was easy to snag.”

Listra says, “Where is your lap dog?”

Gherrich walks silently up and behind Oulette and with one swipe he manages to snatch Oulette’s tiara off her head. He jumps back out of her reach and twirls the simple band around, saying, “I’ve got your precious crown now.”

Oulette runs up to Gherrich and desperately grabs at the tiara. “That is mine! You give that back right now!”

He shows his palm to Oulette and whispers the words, “Houndras velosist!” A fource of invisible magic flows from his hand and shoves Oulette back onto the dirt path.

Listra brings up her hand and begins her chant. Siona’s toungue is quicker as she casts her own force spell and pushes Listra further away from Oulette. “See, Listra. I can cast magic faster than you.”

“Really? You don’t believe that I can’t just snap my fingers and do this?” Listra snaps her left fingers. The tips flare for an instant, creating embers that slowly fall to the ground. She then runs to Oulette’s defense.

“Simple tricks won’t save you, Listra darling,” Siona yells. She begins her second chant but did not pay attention to the falling embers. As they reach the ground each ember flares up into a rolling ball of fire and course through the tall grass to leap at Siona, catching the hem of her cloak on fire. She interrupts her own spell to swat out the threatening flames.

Gherrich is easily handling Oulette without his magic as he pushes, shoves, and trips the girl. He gingerly plays with the tiara in his hands. “Do you want this trinket, little girl?”

“Give that back you brute!”

He laughs at her, a bellowing gutteral chuckle that strangely rings through Oulette’s ears. “Veintous salvous.”

An ear-splitting whistle tears through Oulette’s ears and dizzies her to the ground. Up and down made no sense and the earth shrinks from her in a strange rolling motion. She cups her hands to her ears and looks up at Gherrich. He stares down at her with his toothy, bloating grin and dangles the tiara just outside of her reach.

“Oulette!” Listra screams. She forms a spell in the air with her two right fingers, but she trips and falls face down into the grass. She looks back and finds two hands made of dirt holding onto her ankles. Then she looks up to find Siona intently staring back, smoke streaming around her robe.

“That fire spell of yours was good. Making yourself the distraction is smart, but not long enough for you to help her.” Siona looks up. Listra’s heart jumps as she follows the gaze to Gherrich and Oulette.

“That was my mother’s! Give that back!” Oulette shrieks.

“Oh, is it? I wonder what your dear old mother would say when she finds out I did this.” Gherrich places both hands on the tiara and, with his eyes lined up with the tiara and Oulette’s eyes, snaps the crown in two.

“No!” Oulette cries out. Although not completely recovered from his spell, she pulls out clods of dirt from the ground and hurls them at Gherrich. He swats them left and right, laughing all the while.

She cries out and slumps into a slouch. Her sobs echo through the air and alight on the few willing ears that listen. Listra calls out and struggles with her earthen binds. Siona maintains the spell, relishing in Listra’s helplessness.

Gherrich walks up to Oulette and taps her on the head. “Not so proud, are we?”

Oulette whips up her hands and catches his right arm. In a tinged voice she says, “Neither are you.”

From somewhere within her a power yearns for freedom. This power courses through Oulette’s arms, tingling her fingers, and then leaping into Gherrich’s arm. The aura around his arm is visible. Oulette blinks. His arm explodes shattering both flesh and bone. Nothing but a short stump below his shoulder remains.

Gherrich stumbles back. He looks down at the splattered blood on the ground and the bits of flesh dangling from his shoulder. He reaches over with his left hand and touches the raw flesh exposed to the morning sun. His heart races as the gravity of the event fully forms in his mind. He grabs his shoulder and screams while the pain begins its devastating work on his mind.

Siona jumps back at the explosion, silently swearing and shocked that the wimpering Oulette was capable of such destruction. In her surprise she drops the spell holding Listra.

Listra runs over to Oulette and holds her close. She rocks her friend for comfort as Oulette repeats, “I am sorry, Mother. I am so sorry.”

Siona finally comes to her senses and runs over to Gherrich. He is swearing and clutching his right shoulder. So much blood escaped that the dirt beneath him is soaked and staining red. “Help!” Siona yells. “I need a healer! Help!” In the distance a few other students hears her call and runs up to help. They are initially shocked at the sight, but they fight through their own revulsion to help stop the blood flow and staunch the wound as much as possible.

A sound, much like a balloon popping, and the wind swirling around the students signals that Master Veris is amongst them.

He looks down at the one-armed Gherrich with outrage at the seemingly cruel nature of the event. “Who did this to him?” he says.

“I saw Oulette grab him and destroy his arm!” Siona says. “She broke one of our rules, Master Veris! She should die for what...”

“I ALONE WILL JUDGE AND PASS SENTENCE HERE!” Master Veris bellows. His voice reverbates across the meadows and cowers all who heard, save two girls and a cruelly wounded Gherrich. The Master draws in a deep breath, exhales slowly, and says, “How did this start?”

Listra turns her head to look up at her teacher. “Master, Siona distracted Oulette and myself while Gherrich reached from behind and grabbed Oulette’s tiara. Gherrich snapped the tiara. Then Oulette reached up, grabbed his arm, and destroyed it.”

Master Veris looks to another student. “Is this true?”

“We do not know,” the student says, his head bowed while he staunched Gherrich’s arm. “We only heard Siona calling for help. His arm was gone when we arrived.”

The Master looks to Siona. “Did you start this?”

Siona trembles underneath her teacher’s gaze. For the many months she spent in study and lessons she could not portray lies as truth to his stern eyes. His gaze alone seems to penetrate every shadow and secret she ever held. She bows her own head and says, “This is true. I caught their attention so that Gherrich could take the tiara. I only meant to tease Oulette. I did not ask Gherrich to break the trinket.”

“Or so you say,” Master Veris rumbles. “I have no doubt that your hand in this is much dirtier than you would like us to believe.” He rustles his arms out of his robes and lifts Oulette onto her legs. She is wobbly on her feet so he lets her lean on him. To the other students, “Stop gogging at the sight and help Gherrich to the healer or else he will not survive the hour.” Four students grab some nearby fallen branches and make a cot that they carry Gherrich in.

“Siona!” he yells. She straightens up, eyes wider than a deer’s. “You will return to your quarters and sit silent at your desk. You will not speak, move from, or study at your desk until I have attended to you with your punishment. Now go!” She quickly bows and scurries off toward the huts.

Master Veris turns to Listra and Oulette. “Let us return to your hut.”

He takes the whimpering Oulette into his arms and urges her along. She looks around and spies the two tiara pieces. She breaks Master Veris’s hold and snatches the pieces from the ground, holds them up, and brings them together at the break, hoping that the tiara would magically reform and be whole once more. Her tears blind her from seeing the shattered band. Her teacher gently lifts her up by the arms and guides her toward the hut she shares with Listra.

Once inside he lays Oulette gently on her cot and begins stoking a fire in the center pit. Listra sits next to Oulette, caressing the sobbing girl’s shoulder. Master Veris adds another log and encourages the flames to catch and build. He then takes a seat on Listra’s cot and faces the two students.

“Oulette. How do you feel?”

She timidly shakes her head.

“Oulette, I need to ask you about what happened out in the field. I need to know exactly what you did.”

She shakes her head again.

Master Veris squints. “Do you remember what happened when you cast the spell?”

“No,” she says in the barest of tones.

He looks to Listra. “Did you see Oulette cast the spell?”

She shrugs. “A little. I saw the aura on her hands and Gherrich’s arm, but no other magic until...”

He holds up his hand, palm outward. “Was there anything else you can remember? Did Oulette or Gherrich chant or say anything before her spell?”

“He might have said something to Oulette. He did not cast much else other than the pushing spells you taught us. Then he broke the tiara with his hands. After that he walked over to Oulette. That’s when she grabbed his arm.”

Master Veris furrows his brow. Then he turns his attention to Oulette. “Oulette, please tell me what happened.”

Although she is dried of any tears Oulette tries to cry. “My mother’s tiara. It was the only trinket she gave me.”

“Marglo can do something with it,” the mage says with the sorrow a father may show. “Maybe he can smelt it back together. Make it as one.”

“But not whole,” she adds.

Master Veris pauses. “This is a very traumatic day for you, Oulette. I wish I could comfort you in this trying time, but I must attend to the other students. Especially one crafty Siona. Listra, I have need to speak with you privately.” She nods and sets Oulette on the cot to sob gently on her pillow.

Master Veris quickly speaks once they are outside and a fair distance from the hut. “What I say to you is in the greatest of confidences, Listra.”

“You can trust me, Master,” she says.

“No,” he stresses. “I must have your undying loyalty.”

Listra crinkles her brow at his words. She searches his face for a reason to his demand but finds none. “Master Veris, you have my loyalty. But why?”

He swallows hard. “She was sent here by the Duke of Innsbruck. There was an official letter stating that she was to be educated and trained as a mage. During her training she did not show any of the signs that she was mageborn.”

“Some of us eventually do. Maybe she required more help.”

“I do not think so. I believe the tiara was enchanted to hide her talent.”

“That is absurd.” Master Veris stares hard at his student. “Master,” she adds hastily. “Why would she be sent to study but her talent hidden so that she cannot progress?”

He blinks several times. “I do not know. The duke might have a reason, but he made no hint in his recommendation. Until today I believed Oulette was without talent. Now I believe something is wrong here. The more I contemplate upon her situation, the more questions I have.”

Listra looks back at the hut. “Why do you tell me this?”

“Because I will send you with her back to Innsbruck.”

She turns and looks at her teacher. “Master? I care for Oulette, but why also send me away?”

“I am not punishing you. I am charging you with her studies. You have progressed much with your own craft. So much, to be forthcoming, that you have no more need of my lessons.” She was about to protest when he holds up his hand. “I noticed the burn marks in the grass. Your delayed ember spell worked perfectly and impressed me. I believe you would benefit from travelling the world and growing on your own.

“As for Oulette: she needs a friend. You are the only person she trusts, even when you tease her about Marglo. Yes, I also hear the rumors from the other students. Just remember that she needs time to understand what is happening to her. Be the guiding hand in her life.”

“What if I am not up to the task? What if I do not teach her correctly?”

He looks straight into her eyes and says, “What does your heart tell you?”

She closes her eyes and breathes in the morning air. Listra contemplates her emotions and abilities. After a short moment she opens her eyes and stares back at her teacher. “I am a talented mage. And I care very much for her.”

“Then you will be an excellent teacher.” He smiles. “I could not recommend anyone else to help her other than her closest friend.”

“You said you have questions about Oulette. Maybe you should ask her duke.”

“No, Listra. I do not yet want to alert the duke and whomever else he talks to. Part of your duty is to look into the duke’s holdings and activities. With Oulette around, he will not question your presence. Now, back in you go. She needs your presence and voice.”

Listra blinks. She turns towards the stone hut and walks toward the oak door. She stops to gather her wits, then gently pushes on the door and enters the dim room within.

Master Veris turns toward the library building and jogs breathlessly through the grass and over hidden rocks. He begins his search among the scrolls and rare tomes he acquired over the decades. It will be nearly mid-afternoon until he remembers that Siona is still waiting at her desk.

Listra closes the door behind her, plunging the hut into dim darkness. Although the hut is mostly made of rock and mud there is still a window where refracted light still shines muted upon the two cots, two tables, and the fire pit in the center. She scurries over to Oulette who lays still on her own cot, back turned to the door. In the fire light Oulette’s hair takes on a slight orange hue that glistens as dancing flame.

“Oulette,” Listra whispers. She gently shakes the blonde. Oulette shakes the hand off the shoulder. “Oulette, please turn around. I want to talk to you.”

“I can hear you plainly,” she mumbles.

In a more stern voice, Listra says, “I do not want to converse with your backside. Now, please turn around.”

Oulette sighs and turns over. Listra marvels that Oulette still has tears left to shed onto the goose down pillow. “What other punishment does Master Veris have for me?”

“Why do you say that?” Listra asks.

“There is no other reason for you to talk to me. He is too busy with other students so he sends you to give me my punishment.”

Listra raises her eyebrows at Oulette, clears her throat, and says in a low hoarse tone, “Apprentice Oulette, your punishment is to dunk your head in a barrel of water and giggle three times.”

Oulette is overcome with laughter. “So, truly, am I still being sent away.”

Listra holds her hand to her chest to calm her own giggling. “Yes, you are. But it has nothing to do with what happened on the meadow.”

“Does it not?” Oulette asks. “I heard your explanation. I know what I felt. The tingling in my hands, the surge of mana working through me, through my fingers, and coursing into Gherrich. It was magic, Listra.”

“We cannot cast magic without our long studies and incanting the rhythms. Magic does not work that way.”

“And yet I was able to destroy Gherrich’s arm. Listra, I felt the power. I felt the world around me spin. I reached out to the mana around and pulled. I *pulled*. I know because I did it. The magic was mine to move and I *moved* it.”

Listra returns Oulette’s stare. The newly minted mage did not doubt the sincerity her close friend held. And yet, she disbelieves what her own eyes saw of what seems a lifetime ago. The timid apprentice she has known for the past months is transformed before her.

“Did you enjoy feeling the mana?”

“For the briefest of time, yes. I nearly drowned in it, for all of a moment the day was not. Then it was fleeting as the spell was cast. What does it mean?”

Listra brushes the hair from Oulette’s face. “I do not know. Master Veris told me that he will look for answers. For now, though, he is sending you back to Innsbruck.”

Oulette looks down at her hands as she wrings her fingers. “I travelled here alone. I did not know the mountains, nor the people that lived here at Master Veris’s hall and in the village beyond the escarpment. I will miss the bakery and the seemstress’s stories.”

“And Marglo.”

Oulette smiles. “And Marglo with his hefty arms. You know, I really do not know his embrace.”

“Yes you do. I was present when he hugged you.” Listra brushes her own tangled brown hair from her face. “I hear that the view from Mount Hessinger is much more breath taking than what we have around here.”

Oulette sighs wistfully. “Yes. I have only been near the peak when the Duke and his family decided to have a picnic one day. He was very abrupt and, at that moment, asked me to come along. I don’t know why he did, but I accepted. I was flattered being a lowly orphan who served as a kitchen maid.”

“Did you cook their meals, too?”

“By all that is good in the world, no!” Oulette waves at the thought. “I cannot cook. Nessie was the cook. I am told she found me outside the kitchen’s back door, cooing at her when she picked me up. They tried to keep me a secret, but the senechal heard my crying from a hanging pot and alerted the duke. Nessie wailed that she was barren and that I was the daughter she always hoped to have. As she tells the story, she browbeaten the senechal in a contest of wits. At the time, the duke was amused at the altercation, but the duchess herself overheard the conversation. She, the duchess, assented to my adoption.”

“I could not make that up myself,” Listra says.

Oulette playfully slaps Listra’s shoulder. “It’s all true. Everyone says so. Even the senechal before he passed away. He was an old, fat fellow and sometimes in a sour mood. However, he was fair in his dealings. The current senechal, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy making my life miserable. As soon as I was old enough he set me to work as a sweeper and later as a maid. Dull work, but I did not complain. I see the beggars who live under the bridges and sleeping underneath the eavements. I do not pity them because I might have been one myself.

Listra nods. Oulette catches the look and straightens up. “Here I am, sulking in bed and boring you with quaint stories.”

“They are never boring.”

“Only when I tell them in those long winded ways that seem to annoy you and everyone else listening.” Oulette stretches her arms out. “Well, I’ll be off tomorrow, anyways. I suspect there will be a cart and driver waiting for me in the village.”

“At least you will not be alone,” Listra says.

“Oh, and you know who will drive me? I don’t suppose Hanvers will. He doesn’t treat the horses well. Or at all.”

“No. I will be going with you.”

Oulette wails. “You are banished? But you did nothing!”

“No. I am not banished. Master Veris believes me to be competent to teach you magic.”

Oulette blinks. “You? A scholar?”

“Scoff all you like. Soon you’ll see that I am a good teacher.”

Oulette chuckles. “I do not mean to mock. In order to be a mage, I need a teacher. And you, my friend, are a good teacher.”

“Well, that is done,” Listra says. Her stomach growls loudly for both to hear. “And it seems that a meal is necessary. Let us go to the hall and sup on the gruel Kinsa made from last night’s meal.”

The sky grew into night as Master Veris, weary from the day’s events, sits staring into the sieve. Save for the tint of green, the water within is clear. He sighs and intones the chant again, willing the water to show him what insights the scrolls could not reveal.

The door to his quarters creak open, revealing Kinsa bearing a bowl of gruel and a simple spoon upon an oaken serving tray. “Master, your meal.”

“Thank you, Kinsa. Just place it over there with the pile of scrolls.”

She balances the tray while restacking the scrolls. “Any thing else you wish me to fetch?”

“I require nothing else, Kinsa. Thank you.” She bows and is nearly out the door when he says, “Hold. There is one thing I need of you.”

“Yes, Master?” she asks as she comes out from behind the door.

“How is Oulette to you?”

“Your pardon?”

“Oulette, the golden haired student. The one who single-handedly destroyed another student’s arm, if you mind the pun.”

“Before today? As quiet as they come, Master. Keeps to herself. Doesn’t mind other’s business. Runs around the mountain as if friends with the wind and the clouds. Spied her once rolling down the plains in the grass. Knew it her because no other student leaves the path.”

He nods to her. “Thank you, Kinsa.”

The silver sieve on his study table, alone and still, softly rattles. Master Veris snaps his attention to it knowing that he did not finish his chant. He raises his finger to stop Kinsa where she stands as he stares at the water in the silver sieve.

First the rattling, then the water quivers within, waving and soon bubbling with mana. More mana, he surmises, than he had invested earlier. He watches. The water is roiling with the unmistakable magic of a scrying spell, one that another practitioner in another place is casting with much more force and mana than any mage would dare. The water gushes as a gyser without a drop splashing out of the sieve and a shimmering humanoid takes shape with what seems like tendrils snaking out of its back and hands for claws. Most of its bulk was in the torso and is much a trunk for the muscles that was within that form. Its limbs were no less impressive, even with the water shimmering over the entire shape.

Then the monster opens its eyes and Master Veris loses his sanity within the sight.

He reaches over, grabs the sieve with both hands, and intones, “Jeruis malphon!” He strugles to destroy the connection the sieve has with the creature. He crumbles to his knees from the willpower the creature is channeling.

Kinsa is frozen to the door, unable to release the plank for the very fear that keeps her staring. She has seen magic done many times and knows what a scrying should look like. She knows this is something much more and that she should be leaving NOW. And yet she remains fixated on the scene, watching her provider fight with an otherworldly being through a simple silver sieve.

Mana bolts crackle around the sieve’s rim and burn Master Veris’s fingers. He howls, but still concentrates on the real battle between his own mind and that of the monster. In his desperation to stop the beast he finds the spell to sever the connection. Though he cannot loosen his grip, he can still cast the spell, however ruinous it may be.

“Kinsa! Shut the door!” She hastily closes the door, trembling as she steps away from the glowing light spilling from underneath it.

Master Veris intones, “Heruk malignant, intruder upon these hallowed grounds. Your tresspass is unwarranted and your presence foul to the earth. Eris molush, tintro servin. I cast you out from these lands! Afero fatum!”

The sieve shatters, flinging shrapnel every which way. Water splashes over the table and onto the oaken floor. Master Veris hunches down, resting his body as he recovers from his battle. To the knowledgeable mage the world has changed in the brief moment. His life breath was shortened. His time is now countable.

A painful moment later Kinsa creeks the door open and asks after her provider. “Kill it?”

He smiles at her meek question. “I and everyone in the world wishes that were so. Please help me up.”

Kinsa jots through the room to him and helps the master to his feet. Her bewildered expression asks the obvious question.

“A beast of the old world. A world much, much older than you or I. Maybe even older than this mountain that we stand upon.”

“What it want?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “It tried to look into my mind, but I fought it off.”

“Not come back, I hope.”

A flash of insight and logic tramples through the master’s mind as scenarios present themselves to him. His worst fear comes to light and in the span of a snap he makes a decision.

“Kinsa, wake Marglo and the handlers. Tell them the horses and carts need to be prepared now!”

“Is nearly the witching hour. Tired from hunting on the steppes.”

“Just do it! I will wake the students and make them prepare to leave.”

Kinsa is not sure she heard the master correct. “Leave?”

“Yes. Leave. I am sure our refuge is not safe anymore.”

“Because of that?”

“Yes. Now go!” he shouts. “The more we linger the more peril we find ourselves in!”

Kinsa nods and scuttles out of the room. Master Veris looks at his quarters: the simple cot; the cubbies full of scrolls for further study; the table on which he spent many days slouched over. He sighs and, with a regretful heart, begins the painful process of which scrolls to take and which scrolls to forget.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3