ã€ŠSplintered Worldsã€‹


 Chapter 1: The Church of the Transformation

    Can you hear me?

    <hr>

    Aelia tried first to push her way through the bustling crowd, to get a better view of the church, but when that failed she resorted to darting and slithering around the people ¡ª a task she was much better suited to. Shouts of ¡°Oi!¡± and ¡°You best watch it, lass!¡± rippled after her as an angry wake, but she paid the threats little heed. There was too much to be excited about to mind words, of all things.

    Gods! Even the air here was intoxicating. The smell of hardworking towns-folk; of sweat and ale and blood; of animals ¡ª some alive, some roasting; of clothes unchanged and unwashed. And it should have been a repugnant stink by all rights, but it somehow mixed together to sizzle the air like the electricity before a storm.

    Aelia''s boots were thin-soled hand-me-downs that had belonged to her sister (younger sister, but embarrassingly already taller) and the hard bubbles of cobblestone beneath pushed deep into her feet. On her back, a burlap sack bounced merrily up and down, as excited as Aelia.

    She wriggled to the very front of the crowd and settled herself between a well-bearded man sloshing back a tankard of beer, and a younger man whose hand seemed addicted to twining his greasy blond hair into thick strands. The younger man gave her a not-unfriendly smile.

    She replied with a curt nod, a "Hey," and an unspoken please don''t talk to me in her eyes.

    Aelia began to settle into her spot and her heartbeat eased. She allowed herself a deep breath and closed her eyes. It¡¯s like being in one of mother¡¯s books. Except here I can feel the thrill in the air, instead of imagining it. Here it''s real.

    A pang of unwanted guilt began to form and rise in Aelia¡¯s stomach. Typical. Couldn''t let herself be happy for five minutes. She tried to swallow it back down before it could fully form and give her the reasons for its being. But the pang ballooned instead, stretching wide until it popped.

    Ah. There it was.

    She¡¯d promised Mother that she¡¯d go straight to her lodgings and meet her new family. That she¡¯d store her possessions and at least some of her money in her new room. Her mother had suggested she hide some coins beneath a floorboard.

    And yet here she was. Straight from the caravan to the Church of the Transformation. Waiting to see what this week''s blessing might be.

    Sorry Mom.

    Aelia couldn¡¯t care less for the few bits and bobs she carried in her bag -- who cared if she lost some old clothes and a book? But she did have coin in her purse and she couldn''t allow for that to be stolen. Money from her mother, mainly (that her mother could ill afford and that Aelia had twice refused, but that had been snuck into her purse regardless).

    But it¡¯s Sunday! she complained to the guilt that had moved from her stomach and travelled her veins and now nervoused her whole body.

    The caravan she''d travelled with had experienced good fortune with the weather and had arrived in Rhodes almost a full day early ¡ª just in time for the Transformation. And what could that kind of luck be, other than serendipity? Aelia had been in the town maybe three hours now, two of which she¡¯d spent lost in various winding side-streets on the outskirts, each of which seemed to have its own cobblers, tobacconist, and tavern. Eventually, after asking for directions at least half a dozen times and failing to follow any of them properly (she blamed excitement for her current poor memory), the hulking Church of the Transformation in the center of Rhodes ¡ª the great walled capital of the kingdom ¡ª had risen into view.

    Now, up close, she wondered how it had ever not been in view. It was mountainous! Complete with its own silver-covered peaks and crevices ¡ª spires and sanctums that held everything from relics to graves ¡ª that thrust into the clouds themselves. It was, like any good mountain, easily big enough to get lost in.

    The crowd wasn¡¯t allowed onto the sacred green space where the church sat, or even on the street that circled the greenery like a dirty moat. So instead they thronged the edge of the street like a one-sided riverbank.

    Aelia was close enough to see the huge arched doors at the church''s front with their gilded floral etchings around their edges. This had been the blessed week of Flora. Of feasting and farming and relative, unusual calm for the Kingdom of The Stone God.

    What would this week''s transformation usher in? she wondered, heart racing again at the mere thought.

    It was a little cold standing still, even nestled as she was between the men. Summer was ending. The sun was sloped in the sky (but it was almost midday, she noticed) as if one of the gods had reached up and thumped it.

    She wondered if the Stone God was in the church right now, slumbering. Sometimes He was inside, she¡¯d heard. But it was rare to see Him, even for those that lived in Rhodes. It had been months since His last gracing and it might be months or longer before His next. But still, here she was, in the hub of the kingdom, its greatest city, and there was at least the possibility of seeing Him. There was the possibility of anything here.

    Her mother and father had seen the Stone God before they¡¯d gotten married and started the farm and she''d heard the story of it a thousand times before. Nagged for it at bedtimes, when she''d been younger, and hidden it in her heart as she''d gotten older. A little keepsake to take out when times got bleak, to remind her of childhood awe. Her father had once told her that the most powerful magic was made by small moments that lived forever in the mind. His story about the Stone God was, then, magical.

    That was back before her father had been recruited for the war against the Necromancer. Six years ago, now. Six. How fast and cruel time''s clock turned.

    She let out a sigh, but she couldn¡¯t hear the breath leave her lips. Not because of the crowd, but because of a different noise. A clip clop clip clank. Clip clop clip clank.

    Aelia leaned forward and saw what she first thought must be a knight (perhaps even a paladin!) riding a black-haired horse down the street. Horses apparently didn''t like cobblestone either, as the street was flat, brown, and dusty.

    As he neared, she noted the man''s armor was just a tunic of chainmail with a red cross sloshed over its chest. No helmet, and cheap brown pants.

    A city guard.

    Not as exciting as she¡¯d first thought, but still, those folk were the heartbeat of the city. Or at least they kept the heartbeat in rhythm. The heart itself, of course, was the church.

    So it was still pretty exciting, she contented herself. And the real show hadn''t even started yet.

    Clip clop clip clank.

    The odd sound came from the unusual horse beneath the rider. Three legs looked as she¡¯d have expected, but the fourth drew a gasp from her lips. It was sculpted metal, with pinned joints at the hip and knee and hoof -- the hip joint having a number of small cogs next to it, that spun as the beast walked. The metal leg was obsidian-black, even darker than the horse, except for the hoof at its end that was a grey metal.

    As it drew nearer she could hear a hiss accompanying the clank, and saw a puff of steam billowing out from beneath the metal hoof whenever it raised. How it was powered, she wasn¡¯t sure. She knew of course that the blacksmiths here were masters of hydraulics, but the town also had plenty of other fine craftsmens, as well as a mage guild (the reason, she told her mother, that she coming here) that could perhaps imbue metal.

    She undecided whether the strange leg made the horse less beautiful or more. It certainly made it unique.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    It was a half-peeled orange that rolled across the horse¡¯s path, and it came from the sweaty, slippery palm of a little girl with braided hair. A girl in a ragged dress that looked a lot like the sack on Aelia¡¯s back.

    She watched bemused as the girl fell out of the crowd like an errant hair come loose, and attempted to reclaim her orange. But the uneven ground tripped her little feet and she fell sprawling next to the fruit.

    The rider, if he noticed, didn¡¯t slow.

    Clip clop clip clank.

    Surely someone would do... something.

    Clip clop clip clank.

    Aelia shouted, ¡°Wait!¡±

    The guard still didn¡¯t slow and the girl lay as if paralyzed, her eyes on the huge legs striding towards her, crushing the ground, billowing dust behind them.

    Aelia jumped out of the crowd and in front of the horse, meaning only to grab the little girl and pull her to safety -- which she managed. But she had also scared the horse which bucked wildly and its rider swore wildly as he tried to hold onto the reins.

    She carried the girl back into the crowd who parted a little for them.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    The girl¡¯s eyes were damp. She was too scared to talk and just looked at Aelia with saucer eyes.

    ¡°You little bitch,¡± came a deep voice. A very angry voice. ¡°You almost threw me off my steed. I could have been badly hurt.¡±

    Aelia turned to find the guard, still on his horse, spittle now covering his chin, facing and looking down at her.

    "You seem fine," she answered. "And the girl is fine, I think. So everything is... fine." She gave him a wide smile and hoped that would be that.

    "Fine? You almost threw me off my steed!" he repeated, louder. ¡°What do you intend to do about it?¡±

    Great, just the start she needed. She¡¯d pissed off a city guard within three hours of arriving. She¡¯d only come to the church to witness the transformation.

    ¡°You were about to trample her,¡± Aelia said, trying to keep the tremble her arms were experiencing out of her voice. A tremble more from adrenaline than anything else, she suspected.

    The guard frowned then grinned. ¡°The little brat shouldn''t have been on the street, should she? She broke the law and she is lucky I''m the guard that happened to see her.¡±

    Lucky? He''d almost killed her... To claim she was lucky was beyond the pale. Aelia glared up at him, then walked briskly, defiantly, back into the street and grabbed the orange, before holding it up to the guard. ¡°See this? She dropped her food. That''s all. Perhaps you should apologize to her.¡±

    The guard was stunned, but only for a second, for then he began to laugh, rocking back and forth on the horse.

    Aelia ignored him and walked up to the girl, passing her the orange and stroking her hair. "Here you go, darling."

    The little girl looked at the orange, then Aelia. "Thank you," she said in a sweet high voice. Then she turned and ran through the crowd. Aeliaconsidered doing the same when she heard the guard speak again.

    ¡°I will ask one more time: what are you going to do to repay me for the danger you placed me in?¡± His eyes sharpened into razors as he looked down her body. ¡°If you have no money, then there are other options. But I will have recompense.¡±

    Aelia¡¯s cheeks flushed as the mixed emotions in her belly were overwhelmed by anger. She put her hand into her olive-colored jacket and clutched at the moss she¡¯d collected from the forests outside of Cladance. She only knew a handful of spells, and she couldn''t make the moss last for more than one of them, but she¡¯d at least be able to knock him off his horse, she thought. "You want recompe--¡±

    Pain blossomed in the back of her leg. She winced, thinking she¡¯d been stung, but turned to find the boy she¡¯d earlier been standing next to, with the wave of greasy blond hair that he couldn¡¯t keep his hands away from. The boy had kicked her!

    He leaned into her ear and whispered, ¡°Just keep your mouth shut. I''ll get you out of this.¡± Then, he glided around her and strode up to the guard.

    ¡°Sir, I am awfully sorry for my sister¡¯s ignorance. She¡¯s always been a little slow with her studies, if you know what I mean.¡± He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper aimed at the guard, but Aeliastill heard it. "And everything else, to be honest."

    Now she was furious. Kicked, insulted, and threatened. Somehow though, she kept her mouth shut. Maybe because she didn''t know quite what to say.

    The guard¡¯s horse grunted, a puff of mist swelling out from the beast''s nostrils. The guard himself snarled and said, ¡°That hardly makes up for the incident.¡±

    The boy had copper coins in his hand. Aelia thought she saw three pass from his palm to the guard¡¯s.

    "Keep you dog under control next time," he said to the boy, "or she might just be put down."

    The guard shot Aelia a final icy stare and said, "Hope that I don''t see you again, girl," before pulling on the reins of his horse and trotting on.

    Her rage was mostly for the guard but all aimed at the boy. ¡°How dare you kick me!¡± she snapped as he returned.

    He shrugged easily. ¡°How else was I meant to get you to shut up? You were talking yourself into a night in the Towers. Oh, and you owe me three pennies for it, by the way. In fact, call it four, for what I just risked on your behalf.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you to risk anything!¡±

    Now he suddenly looked just as mad as she felt. "Oh, okay, I''ll just let you be raped by a city guard with a hygiene problem. I can always call him back, if you like?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not funny. And besides, I didn''t see you helping the girl.¡±

    His face softened. ¡°She would have moved. And yeah, sorry. But that was going to happen if you couldn''t pay him. And what are you, fourteen?¡±

    Surely the guard hadn''t meant... that? And what did he mean fourteen? Admittedly, she was a little short but... "I''m sixteen. And I think it¡¯s pretty clear I¡¯m not fourteen."

    He rolled his eyes. "Sure you are. And I''m a full a paladin."

    "I am sixteen," she said again, voice fierce in its insistence.

    His eyes looked her over like he was inspecting livestock, and she became acutely aware of her small (but plenty ample, thank you very much) breasts.

    "You sure don''t look it."

    "Perhaps you''re just not very perceptive."

    A slurred voice butted in and a waft of beer floated on the breeze. "I thought ''bout ''irteen."

    "Thank you," said the boy to the drunk with the tankard. The drunk half-bowed then returned to studying his beer, as if trying to work out where most of it had gone.

    Of course the drunk would side with the greasy young man. Probably was his father. "Fine," she said. "Think want you want. I''ll give you your three silver to repay your stupidity, and then you''re going to leave me alone." She slipped a hand into her purse and drew out the copper coins.

    "Wow, I''m glad I risked being sent to the Towers on your behalf, for"--he made an act of slowly counting the coins between his fingers--"exactly zero profit."

    She was about to reply when a gong sounded out, hushing the crowd behind them.

    ¡°What was that?¡± she asked.

    He rolled his eyes a second time, and she hated the expression on his smug face as much as the first time. More so, in fact. He definitely had a face that grew more irritating the longer you had to look at it.

    "You''re new here, aren¡¯t you? I should have known. You''d never have made it to fourteen if you lived here, not being as naive as you are." He paused, then added with a shake of his head. ¡°Tourists.¡±

    Her hand balled into a fist and it was all she could do to not clasp the moss in her pocket. ¡°I¡¯m not fourteen and I''m not a tourist. I¡¯m here to study at the academy.¡± That wasn''t quite true, but the boy didn''t need the full truth. She hadn¡¯t actually been accepted to the mage academy yet. Or even actually applied. But that was the plan, and her mother thought her plenty good enough to be accepted.

    He eyed her another time, more suspiciously. ¡°Oh yeah? Well. You¡¯ve got a lot to learn about city living, let alone what they¡¯re going to try to teach you at that place.¡±

    A second gong.

    Now there was absolute silence.

    The boy nodded at his feet and whispered, "It''s about to start. Best come stand in front of me if you want to be able to watch it."

    She paused, half-tempted to stubbornly remain behind him, rather than give in to another of his ideas. But she did desperately want to see the transformation and his huge head would block her line of sight.

    She stepped in front of him and waited.

    And finally, the church began to change.

 Chapter 2: The Kingdom of the Stone God

    Aelia had to remind herself to breathe, so enraptured she found herself by what was happening to the church.

    The spires were being swallowed back into the great structure¡¯s stomach, lowered down by some unseen mechanism ¡ª at least, unseen from Aelia¡¯s position. But she could hear it working, could hear the twisted screeching of metal and cogs, could see the first plumes of thick gray smoke spiraling out from somewhere at the Church¡¯s rear. The stained glass windows that dotted the lower floor like spider¡¯s eyes were starting to glow, bright enough to be visible even in the daylight, a burnt orange far deeper than the sun.

    The double doors at the church¡¯s front gusted open and, for just a second, Aelia thought the Stone God himself might stride out.

    Instead though, a series of robed figures walked solemnly out in two rows, their heads tilted down and buried in the shadows of their brown cowls. Whether they were men or women, Aelia couldn¡¯t tell, but there were two dozen of them total.

    ¡°The Forgotten Monks,¡± the boy behind her whispered.

    Her lips curled up agitated. She knew who they were. Or at least, what they were. They were the custodians of the church. The most fervent of the Stone God¡¯s worshippers, handpicked by Him. Each custodian had, long ago, had their tongue pulled out so that words could not be formed, only the sounds of worship. Their faces too, it was said, had been scraped away until each monk¡¯s features became indistinct from the next. There was no room in the church for vanity.

    ¡°More powerful than paladins,¡± came that voice behind.

    That she hadn¡¯t heard. They didn¡¯t look like warriors to her. They were slow and looked almost as bent as a tree branch under heavy snow. Surely no match for a paladin.

    The monks spread out into a semicircle, about twenty feet away from the church¡¯s entrance. Then they turned to face the great building, each falling to one knee. So began their chanting, a sustained ¡°Omm¡± that quickly grew louder than it had any right to from only twenty-four individuals. The chant seemed to come from all around her, and at one point Aelia even turned to make sure the blond boy hadn¡¯t joined in. But his lips were sealed. It was the voices of the tongueless monks that had somehow surrounded them.

    The spires weren¡¯t just falling now, but they were changing too. Folding in on themselves, thinning and twisting. And the church¡¯s great arched roof had peeled back. Bricks in the walls were being sucked in and in their place new bricks were pushed out. Black bricks. The whole scene was as surreal as it was entrancing.

    Then, after the final spires had lowered, a single tower rose up from the center of church, as the roof closed around it.

    The church was not arched any longer, but had become a huge angled dome.

    There were groans behind her and the occasional ¡°shh!¡± and Aelia thought the crowd sounded displeased.

    The church¡¯s new tower was black and gold, every brick seeming to alternate in color. The very top of the tower had opened up like a mouth on each side, becoming hollow, and in the middle of this newly created chamber hung a huge black bell that was shaped¡­ shaped a little like a bird.

    It took her a moment to remember from the tales her father used to tell her about the church and all its blessings, anything about a bird. When the raven nests above the city, it is looking far beyond, to the planes of battle, keeping watch over all those who have been brave.

    Yes. That was it. The tower of the raven.

    This was the battle blessing.

    The transformation every knight and paladin and archer and every other brave soul would have been praying for.

    The raven-bell rang once, although it was so high above her that she couldn¡¯t see if anyone was in the tower to ring it. A deep deafening chime that ended the monks¡¯ chanting. The screeching of metal, too, died away as the church¡¯s transformation was complete.

    Above the church the smoke from its unseen bowels had smogged the sky and darkened the sun, and now hung there like a gray demon leering over the town.

    A shiver skated down Aelia¡¯s back.

    The monks got to their feet and fell back into their two lines as they returned to the church, pulling the great doors shut behind them.

    The crowd was already dispersing, unlike the thick cloud above.

    There were more moans and complaints as the peasants left. Why? It was the battle blessing! Why weren¡¯t they celebrating? This might be a week they recapture stolen land. Or perhaps even take new land from their enemies.

    She saw the blond boy walking away and hurried after him, putting a hand on his arm. ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± she said. ¡°Why does everyone seem so dispirited?¡±

    The boy turned, looked first at the hand on his arm, and then at her. ¡°Funny we should bump into each other again. I thought after you paid me you were done talking to me?¡±

    She ignored him. ¡°Why though? Isn¡¯t this thought of as a high blessing?¡±

    He laughed. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re so young and naive.¡±

    She scowled in response.

    ¡°It¡¯s a great blessing for the warriors and the generals, sure ¡ª and it might be good for the kingdom as a whole, too. But for the everyday man and woman, it mostly means taxes are doubled this week.¡±

    ¡°Doubled?¡±

    ¡°Doubled. There will be little to no profit for most. Hell, many will lose money. It¡¯s not a good week to be a farmer or a tavern owner, or anything in between.¡±

    Her dad had never told her that part. And after he¡¯d gone, her mother had continued to speak well of the Raven¡¯s blessing. Surely she couldn¡¯t have been harboring this heavy secret? Every week their farm had been struggling to stay head above water ¡ª let alone on a week where taxes were double.

    And yet, all the faces around her were grey. Some looked positively angry, other''s long and drawn.

    ¡°Mother never told me,¡± she said, half to herself as the realization sunk in.

    ¡°I suppose your family was wealthy enough to not need to worry about one week¡¯s lost earnings.¡±

    Her cold toes protested his words, the thin layer of leather offering no insulation from the ground. She¡¯d spent the last two winters in her attic room whilst the wind invited snow into the open corners where the wood had rotted away, hidden herself beneath layers of lamb¡¯s wool, often lying awake waiting for the warmer breath of morning to arrive. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°We weren¡¯t well off at all.¡±

    He just nodded, maybe seeing the truth in her face. ¡°Then perhaps your parents just didn¡¯t want to lumber you with more worries than you already had.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    That was likely true. After they¡¯d gotten the letter about Father, about his death, her mother had become extra protective of her two children. She thought of the money Mother had stolen into her purse and hated the guilt it carried. What had her mother sold for the money? How were her and Lorelei coping back home right now, without Aelia there to share the labor?

    ¡°Did you say this was your first day in Rhodes?¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°Where are you staying?¡±

    It took her a moment to reply. ¡°Old Hill. There¡¯s a family with spare lodgings there that I¡¯ve been communicating with. I¡¯m going to be there while I study at the academy.¡±

    The boy beamed. ¡°I don¡¯t live far from Old Hill ¡ª I can give you a ride most of the way. My horse is stabled only a few streets back.¡±

    ¡°Oh. That¡¯s kind,¡± she said, surprised. ¡°But it¡¯s not necessary. I¡¯ll find my own way.¡± She paused, remembering her manners. ¡°Thank you, though.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an hour''s walk from here to Old Hill, and that¡¯s if you know where you¡¯re going.¡±

    She was going to refuse again but her legs throbbed with weariness, her feet with blisters, her mind with lassitude. And getting lost again didn¡¯t appeal right now, regardless of what next wonder she found herself gazing at. What she wanted was to get to her bed.

    But she couldn¡¯t afford to spend coin on frivolities. On luxuries.

    ¡°I won¡¯t even charge you for it,¡± he said as if reading her mind.

    ¡°I suppose a ride would be useful. But why would you want to give me a ride? It¡¯s not like we¡¯ve gotten off to the best start.¡±

    He shrugged easily. ¡°I¡¯d appreciate the company.¡± If he was acting, he was good at it. ¡°I can show you some of the city on the way. A tour guide for a tourist.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a tourist!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your name, girl who has come to Rhodes to watch the Transformation, but definitely isn¡¯t fourteen and definitely isn¡¯t a tourist?¡±

    ¡°Maybe you¡¯d like it better if I was fourteen,¡± she said.

    He laughed. ¡°You¡¯ve got a bit of snark in you. Come on, what¡¯s your name?¡± He placed his palm against his chest. ¡°I promise no more fourteen jokes.¡±

    ¡°Aelia. What¡¯s yours?¡±

    ¡°Aelia,¡± he repeated slowly, as if trying out the syllables on his tongue. He thrust out a hand. ¡°Pleased to meet you, Aelia. I¡¯m Henry.¡±

    Cautiously, she took his hand and they shook.

    ¡°Come on,¡± Henry said. ¡°Let¡¯s make a move. I need to get to bed pretty shortly or I¡¯m going to feel it later.¡±

    ¡°Bed? It¡¯s barely lunch.¡±

    ¡°I work nights. And this has been a very late night for me already.¡±

    She nodded. Aelia hoped it wouldn¡¯t take long or else she¡¯d have to dig out another top from her bag and layer her clothing. She was already in her best top and jacket and didn¡¯t fancy showing Henry her usual class of clothing. But the cold was starting to bite and the sun still hadn¡¯t broken through the smog.

    Henry led her through the market square and down a street where a group of pigs were stubbornly resisting a broad man¡¯s best efforts to herd them through a wooden doorway (stained red, she noticed). Then, down another street, quieter, full of thatched homes that each seemed to sink into the next as if they¡¯d topple over without the support.

    Eventually, at the end of the street, they came to a group of horses that had been tied up to a wooden fence. There were two half-eaten hay bales in front of the horses, and an old man sweeping up the muck behind them. ¡°Should get a job in a sty,¡± the man was muttering to himself. ¡°Be a hell of a lot cleaner and I¡¯d be a hell of a lot more appreciated.¡±

    ¡°Ignore him. I¡¯ve already paid.¡± Henry led her to a horse at the end of the row of beasts. A handsome mottled-gray animal, with a tuft of blonde hair dipping down a little over its eyes.

    ¡°Rufus, meet Aelia, Aelia, Rufus.¡±

    The horse let out a little whiny. Aelia noticed it wasn¡¯t saddled. Curious.

    ¡°Well?¡± Henry asked her. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to say hello?¡±

    Aelia had grown up on a farm and wasn¡¯t the least nervous as she tapped its head and crooned, ¡°Nice to meet you. Who¡¯s a good horse? Rufus is a good horse!¡±

    Henry had gone around the back of the animal and was hitching up some kind of cart to it. Or perhaps cart would be too kind, she considered. It was more like a wide plank of wood with slightly raised edges. There was a bench at the front of it on a higher raised platform, with a crusty looking cushion where Henry presumably sat. The only thing in the back of the cart was a huge cotton-looking blanket.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t say you had a cart,¡± she said, jumping straight into the back and throwing the blanket over her shoulder. Maybe she could get in a quick nap. ¡°Ahhh.¡± It was heavy and warm and she instantly felt happier.

    Until she saw Henry¡¯s face.

    He was regarding her with a grimace, his lips peeled up from his teeth. ¡°You¡­ might prefer to ride upfront with me,¡± he said.

    ¡°Why?¡± she asked, but at that second the smell hit her. Mould? No, it was worse than that. More like sewage or¡­ or what? Her face screwed up and her throat felt acidy. ¡°Ugh, what¡¯s that stink?¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t ask me what I do,¡± Henry said, face still stuck in its grimace.

    She really didn¡¯t want to ask now, either. But the question fell out all by itself, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Transport the dead. From homes to pits and never back again.¡±

    Oh.

    Gods.

    She threw the blanket off her as if she¡¯d just found it to have been full of snakes, and jumped out the cart.

    The smell.

    That¡¯s what it had been.

    Gods.

    She threw up at the side as the cart as the man with the broom, who¡¯d been brushing the horse manure into piles, yelled at her.

    Henry rubbed her back. ¡°It¡¯s ok. I gave the cart a good wash this morning. Soap and everything. A real good scrub. And they don¡¯t think the plague is infectious anyway. Least, not through contact.¡±

    Her hands were still on her knees as she looked up at him, uneasy but hopeful. ¡°And... the blanket?¡±

    Henry whistled innocently.

    Aelia threw up a second time.

 Chapter 3: The Watchmaker

    The cart rattled along uneven streets while Aelia, still quite queasy, sipped from a waterskin that Henry had offered. How, she wondered, had she ended up being persuaded to ride in this¡­ this death cart? But the truth was she¡¯d vomited out the last of her energy and her legs were as heavy as iron-trees. She¡¯d had no choice but to let Henry help her up onto the seat.

    He seemed to have heard of Whit Street, so at least they wouldn¡¯t be getting lost. With any luck she wouldn''t be riding here for more than a quarter-hour.

    Gingerly, she brought an arm to her face and sniffed. Bad idea. The stink of decomposition had followed her from the blanket. Or maybe not; maybe it just always hung around the cart like a bubble of soured perfume and it wasn¡¯t that her skin and clothes had been infused by it at all.

    Either way her stomach gurgled. She took another sip of lukewarm water.

    The cart came to a sudden halt and Aelia rocked forward, almost falling off the bench. "Can you drive any less jerkily?"

    But her annoyance melted away when she saw why they¡¯d halted.

    A knight in full plate armor (a real knight, not a city guard!) was on a white stallion, stopped in the street with his hand held up to Henry.

    Behind the knight, a long row of chained men and women were being led across the street by two other knights. The chained peasants (those poor people) wore very few clothes, and what they did wear was torn or holed. None wore shoes. A final knight on a muscular brown steed, trotted behind, forcing the peasants to keep a good pace.

    ¡°Are they prisoners?¡± she asked stupidly, already knowing the answer.

    ¡°Mmm hmm,¡± said Henry. He seemed to be busy scouring the prisoner¡¯s faces, his eyes roaming as if making sure he didn¡¯t recognize any.

    How cold they must be. Prisoners or not, they were still human. They looked like animals right now though, ragged and manacled together, chains leading from neck to neck.

    Seemingly happy that he didn¡¯t know any of the prisoners, Henry turned to Aelia. ¡°They¡¯re being taken to the Necromancer¡¯s kingdom.¡±

    To the Nercomaner? These were citizens of The Stone God, were they not? ¡°Why are they being sent there? Shouldn¡¯t they be taken to the Towers if they''ve committed a crime?¡±

    "I¡¯m sure they came from the towers,¡± he answered, as the last prisoner crossed in front of them. ¡°But that was only part of their sentence. Their crimes must have been severe.¡±

    The knight that had stopped them now fell back in line along with his companion at the rear of the prisoners.

    Henry raised his reins and whooshed them down. Rupert began to trot.

    ¡°Why to the Necromancer though?¡±

    ¡°Did you get your red hair from your parents?¡± Henry asked, his eyes skirting it. ¡°It¡¯s very unusual. It''s growing on me.¡±

    It was unusual and it was from her mother, but she didn¡¯t answer.

    Eventually, Henry sighed and said, ¡°It was part of the peace agreement. We send a hundred prisoners to Her a week. Works well for us ¡ª keeps the Towers from overfilling and keeps taxes down for the prisons.¡±

    Aelia felt uneasy. ¡°Why would the Necromancer want our prisoners?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t work it out?¡±

    She could but she didn¡¯t want to. ¡°Surely not to be killed?¡±

    ¡°Now you¡¯re getting it. Our prisoners become Her soldiers in Her war against the kingdom of the Dark Elf. It¡¯s really win-win for both of our kingdoms.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not win-win for the prisoners,¡± she objected.

    He began twirling a string of blonde hair. ¡°Well, no. But they committed their crimes and they got caught.¡±

    The way he said it made the getting caught part sound like the real mistake in his eyes.

    ¡°What if they didn¡¯t commit a crime?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°What if the guards got the wrong person. Or set someone up that they didn¡¯t like. Or¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s for the justice tribunal to decide.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t just the afternoon that felt cold anymore. It was the city itself, she thought.

    ¡°I think they get it right, most of the time,¡± he added. As if that was comforting.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    She shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Really. I¡¯m just tired. I¡¯ve journeyed for three days and I think all the excitement at seeing the transformation has enervated me.¡±

    For a while, they traveled in silence, except for the sounds of the streets, of kids playing and adults arguing, and the steady clip of Rufus¡¯s hooves.

    ¡°What¡¯s Old Hill like?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Not so bad,¡± he said. ¡°Whole of the east side of Rhodes has lower crime happenings, so that might make you happy. You¡¯re near the wall there too, so there will always be plenty of guards. ¡±

    She took a deep breath. It didn¡¯t sound terrible, so why did she feel so down? So nervous?

    ¡°It¡¯s full of artisans,¡± he said. ¡°Potters and rope makers and all kinds. I got a beautiful piece from a hatter¡¯s there, a couple of years back. Was blue like the morning sky, with a wonderful peacock feather sweeping up from the front. Really made the fellows envious.¡±

    That perked her up a little. Artisans. It was something exciting, something they didn¡¯t have back home. She could while away many, many hours browsing their wears. She took another sip from the waterskin and noticed her stomach had stopped complaining. Even the air smelled a little better now, as if perhaps it hadn¡¯t just been the cart and blanket, but also the center of the city.

    ¡°Where do you live?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Olton. It¡¯s not that far from where you''ll be.¡±

    ¡°How old are you? Do you live with your parents.¡±

    ¡°Where did all these questions come from? I''m Eighteen. And no." His voice dropped a little. "I never lived with my parents.¡±

    That was strange, she thought. Surely every baby must live with their parents, at least for a time. But she didn¡¯t press that subject, instead steering the conversation only near to it. ¡°You live alone?¡±

    He shook his head, his blond mane swooping. ¡°Nope. Live with a couple of friends. We share the rent and it just makes sense for us all, at this point in our lives.¡± He paused then added, ¡°I¡¯ll get my own place soon though. I¡¯m getting paid well doing what I¡¯m doing.¡±

    Not surprising. It was surely a job no one else wanted.

    ¡°Tell me about the plague then,¡± she said.

    He flashed her a side-eyed glance. ¡°You sure? I don¡¯t want you throwing up in my cart.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve already had that death rag on me. I think I can survive hearing a story. Besides, it would hardly make this thing smell worse. I¡¯d probably improve it.¡±

    He laughed ¡°Maybe. Okay, but there¡¯s not a lot to tell. It started, let me see, a couple months back now, people finding deceased family upon waking, with their arms in the wrong places or their heads missing or¡ª¡±

    ¡°Wrong places?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I said.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? How can an arm be in the wrong place?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s what the plague does. I find people all the time with an arm coming out of their throat, or going through their groin. Or a leg doing the same.¡±

    She shivered and must have turned pale, as Henry asked again if she was okay. She nodded and he continued.

    ¡°Started with just a few people a week, but now it¡¯s dozens. There are four teams of us throughout Rhodes working the nights, shining our torches on doors and looking for the black cross that the family will have painted on. We take the body from them, slosh a white cross over the black, then once we¡¯re full, we take the bodies to the pits outside of town.¡±

    ¡°Gods¡­¡±

    ¡°Pays well, like I say. And I got to pick my own horse. And none of us Transporters have caught the plague yet, so I think it¡¯s not transmitted like by contact or proximity. Just seems random. Hah, you¡¯re wishing you¡¯d never come here now, aren¡¯t you? I can see it in your eyes.¡±

    ¡°Maybe there¡¯s a little regret in me,¡± she answered.

    He sniffed back snot and said nonchalantly, ¡°Was easier for me until two nights ago.¡±

    ¡°Why was that?¡±

    ¡°My partner quit. I used to drive, he used to get out and drag the bodies into the cart. Was a much smoother operation and we¡¯d always be done before daylight. Last couple of nights have been tough.¡±

    ¡°Well I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll find you a new partner soon¡±.

    ¡°I sure hope so. Hey! If you need a job, I can put in a good word with the Gray Mortuary for you. It¡¯s not as bad as--¡±

    Aelia raised a hand. ¡°Thank you, but I get recompense for my studies at the academy.¡± If she got accepted, that was. Even with her mother¡¯s gift, her purse wasn¡¯t swollen. Tomorrow, she needed to apply.

    ¡°Oh. Of course you do.¡±

    They trotted on in silence for a few minutes, until the cart turned another corner and Aelia saw a wooden sign on the side of the first house. Etched into the wood were the words ¡°Whit Street.¡±

    ¡°This is it,¡± she said excitedly, her voice barely above a whisper. Nerves were turning to excitement in her belly.

    ¡°What number did you say?¡±

    ¡°Forty-three,¡± she said. Her cheeks flushed as she added, ¡°I can walk from here though, thank you.¡±

    Henry frowned, then his face fell, just slightly, as if he¡¯d caught it on the way down. ¡°You don¡¯t want them to see the cart you¡¯ve been riding in.¡±

    ¡°No that¡¯s not¡ª¡± She bit her lip. ¡°Yes, okay. That is it. It wouldn¡¯t be the best impression for my new family if they saw I¡¯d arrived in a death cart. I''m sure you understand.¡±

    ¡°Plague cart.¡± Henry brought the horse to a stop and jumped down. "Not death cart." He hopped around the side and helped Aelia to the ground.

    The street was calm. A few young kids rolling marbles in a group, and a lady standing outside a doorway beating a rug with a broom, dust billowing off it. The houses were thatched and didn¡¯t rest on each other quite as heavily as they did in the center of Rhodes, as if they were less squashed.

    She turned to Henry. ¡°Thank you for the ride,¡± she said, then looked at her feet. ¡°And for... ¡°

    ¡°For the stuff with the city guard?¡±

    Aelia looked up and smiled. ¡°Yes. And for that.¡±

    He held out his hand and she shook it again.

    ¡°Good luck with your studies, red-headed mage-to-be.¡±

    ¡°You can just call me Aelia.¡±

    He was back in the cart already, but turned around and flashed her a grin. ¡°Goodbye, Aelia.¡± Then he raised the reins and Rufus let out a gently whiny as he turned, the cart in tow, and trotted away.

    Aelia was on her own again.

    That was okay. She was good on her own. At her best.

    She took a deep breath, shrugged her bag further up her back, and walked the street.

    There was even room for the occasional tree here (which was somewhat homely), and she passed two broad oaks, their leaves green and golden, as she made her way to number forty-three.

    The sign outside the house sent a little thrill up her spine. She hadn¡¯t realized from their letters that the place she would be staying was itself a shop. An artisan''s.

    She thought she could already hear the house¡¯s ticking heartbeat before she¡¯d walked down the little stone-paved front garden.

    Whit Street Watches (and other assorted wind-ups)

 Chapter 4: Ordinary Magic

    The man who opened the door was like a whirlwind. His keen brown eyes sparkled as they looked her over and found her bag and made their assessment. ¡°Aelia, you¡¯re early! It is Aelia, isn''t it? Of course it is, yes. We''re not expecting any other young guests with a travel bag. Wonderful, wonderful. Come in, please.¡±

    His enthusiasm was infectious. His hair was speckled with white and his mustache thick but trimmed. She crossed her fingers as she asked, ¡°Mr Lapuss?¡±

    He moved to the side of the doorway and ushered her inside. ¡°Samuel,¡± he said. ¡°You can call me Samuel. Now come in, come in. I¡¯m just about to test it again, and I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll want to witness!¡±

    "Test...?"

    But he didn''t answer, just led her inside. The air in the hallway was a mix of metals and smoke, but there was a sweeter scent hidden behind it, of flowers, perhaps.

    ¡°Your room is upstairs, second on the left,¡± said Samuel. ¡°And I¡¯m certain you¡¯ll want to go up soon. But I''m further certain you''ll want to come see the test ¡ª I saw how your eyes lit up when I mentioned it. Come this way, Aelia.¡±

    She did want to go up, in fact. Collapse into her bed and not move for at least two days. And yet, as the man led her through a hallway that seemed wallpapered with clocks, so many there were (some big and swinging, some with little doors in their top, and some that barely looked like clocks at all) a wisp of energy was returning to her.

    There was a clatter of metal in a chamber beyond. A kitchen Aelia guessed, and her stomach rumbled in hopeful agreement. But Samuel led her into a small room before it.

    ¡°Welcome to my study,¡± he said. ¡°Watch your step, Aelia. Please.¡±

    More clocks and watches and various timepieces lined a wide wooden table and filled six shelves nailed onto the wall, and the ticking here was a constant hum with no drop at all for the tocking to come in. It must be like being inside a beehive, she thought, such was the thrum.

    A large clock hammered into the rear wall caught her eye as it was made (at least on the outside) entirely of twigs and sticks ¡ª even the little hands that rotated around the numerals were twigs. Folded leaves of green and brown decorated it, twined around the swood. If it was in a forest, no one would see it at all.

    There were figurines, too, on the table. Knights on horses and archers with bows pulled out. On their backs. Protruding from all their backs were copper keys. She''d seen such things before, but there was much finer craftsmanship here. The painted faces of the fighters looked almost life-like. It was clear Samuel was more than a tinkerer, he was an artist too.

    Her mouth dropped open, but not from the figurines or clocks. It was the track that stole her breath: a huge weaving path with little tin sleepers lying across it like some kind of flat ladder. It snaked a full circle around the room, and she had to step over to get into the center.

    ¡°What is it?¡± she said, her eyes following the loop.

    ¡°The future,¡± he said, brows raised, ¡°is not in clocks. At least not my future. Do you hear how they all tick, Aelia?¡±

    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s loud and constant.¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± he said, seeming pleased with her answer. ¡°Constant. That''s the thing. They all tick at a different beat and that causes the continuation of the sound. And as good as I am ¡ª as brilliant, even ¡ª my clocks all wind down eventually, and they all fall a little slower and a little further out of time with their brothers and sisters. This is the curse of every true timepiece.¡±

    ¡°But people could just wind them up again, couldn''t they? Set them again, once wound.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Yes, but they have lost the time. Just slightly, maybe, but one would need to come here, or go to the northern sundial, to reset them accurately.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    This was... strange. She¡¯d only communicated with Mrs Lapuss with her letters, but still, Aelia thought the woman might have mentioned her rather eccentric husband. Perhaps she wouldn''t have come here, if she''d known about him (although she most certainly would have). The whole room was strange but it also gave her skin-tingles. ¡°Can¡¯t people just judge by the sun and set the time that way?¡±

    ¡°Ha! The sun? Without an accurate sundial, I doubt the average person could get within two minutes of the time!" He paused, shaking his head, then added scornfully. "Probably not even within three.¡±

    Three minutes out didn¡¯t seem a huge deal to Aelia, but she decided that though was best keep that to herself.

    ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m getting out of the clock game,¡± he said. ¡°And into horseless transcog motionechular. That¡¯s the future for me and for the kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Horseless transcog¡­Uh¡­¡±

    Samuel bent down to her and whispered, ¡°Just watch.¡±

    There was another electrical shiver down her back.

    He grabbed a black rectangle from his desk, each long side complete with three coppery wheels that were pinned loosely into it. He then searched for a moment through a pile of metals on the desk, before he found the key he was after, thrusting it into the horseless wagon¡¯s back.

    Click click click.

    ¡°Here,¡± he said. ¡°This will change travel throughout the kingdom. It will help end wars, too. Imagine how fast and reliably we can reinforce.¡± He crouched down and placed the wagon in the track.

    Chug chug chug, it went, as the gears inside it slowly began to work. The wheels turned, first slow, then as a blur, and pushed the wagon along.

    She let out a little gasp as it picked up speed and sailed around the room, always on the tracks. She¡¯d seen figurines, like those on the man¡¯s desk, that could do something similar. Stagger a few steps then fall. But this... True, it wasn''t anywhere as impressive as the church had been, and yet in its own little way, it was just as magical to watch.

    Samuel laughed. ¡°Quite something, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    It reminded her of the horse she¡¯d seen in the town square with the metal leg, only now all the legs were metal and round. ¡°It is,¡± she agreed. ¡°Children will simply love a toy like this.¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Samuel snapped, as the train finished its loop and slowed to a crawl. ¡°No. No. No. This is not a toy. This is a demonstration. A model. Imagine something like this that traveled through the kingdom. That a hundred people at a time could be inside.¡±

    Now he sounded crazed and Aelia wondered if this was more of an obsession than it was a good idea. An idea he could ever make a reality.

    She nodded politely. ¡°Yes, that would be very practical.¡±

    ¡°Very practical,¡± he agreed, straightening his mustache out. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s exactly what it would be. Practical. Of course, there would need to be stops regularly where it would be rewound, but I think even those we could automate eventually."

    Aelia found that she half-loved the man¡¯s enthusiasm, and half-feared it. Whatever she was feeling, she was grateful when a portly lady with mousey hair pulled back in a tight bun burst in. ¡°I thought I heard you playing with your toy again, Sam,¡± she said, her voice sharp. ¡°But I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d stolen our guest. Gods, what on earth were you thinking, not making the poor lass feel at home?¡±

    ¡°Oh, er,¡± he said, his comportment lost. ¡°I¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my fault,¡± Aiela lied. ¡°I asked to see his horseless transcog¡­¡±

    ¡°Motionechular.¡±

    ¡°Right. Motionechular.¡±

    ¡°Did you ask that, now?¡± the woman asked suspiciously. Her face turned kindly though and for a moment Aiela thought the lady might laugh.

    ¡°I¡¯m Mrs Lapuss, darlin'', but you can call me Margo,¡± she said. ¡°And you must be our new lodger. Aelia, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Aelia nodded. "Yes."

    ¡°What beautiful hair you¡¯ve got, Aelia,¡± Margo said. ¡°I think you¡¯ll have all the boys on the street after you once they see it. It''s like fire, ain''t it Sam? Simply radiant.¡±

    She doubted any boy would be after her. Apart from her hair, she had very little going. No money, no job, worn-out clothing, and a rather plain face to boot, she thought.

    ¡°You¡¯ve had a very long journey in the caravan, I¡¯m sure,¡± said Margo. "You must be absolutely exhausted. And I bet you haven''t had a good meal in all that time either. So what say we get you food down you and then show you to your room."

    ¡°Her journey wouldn¡¯t have been a tenth so long if she''d been traveling in a¡ª¡±

    ¡°I''ve got a good broth on the hob,¡± said Margo, shooting her husband a grim stare and at the same time giving Aelia a soft smile. "So you come with me and we''ll get you fed and settled."

    Aelia was going to like it here, she decided, as she stepped over the track and followed the lady into the kitchen. She was going to like it quite a bit.

 Chapter 5: Ripples

    The kitchen was as strange as the study, in its own charming way. A large hearth roared and fizzed in a deep recess in the stone wall. Three metal tubes ran from above the flame, as if borrowing its heat or smoke, up into the ceiling. There was a large round table in the center with four wooden chairs, three of which were worn deeper at the seat.

    ¡°So you¡¯re ¡®ere to study at the academy?¡± Margo asked, as she took hold of a loaf of bread and placed it firmly on a chopping board. A large knife seemed to be conjoined to the board, which itself had a rusting key protruding out of its side. Margo wound the key and the bread began to shuffle forward as the knife swung up and down like an indecisive drawbridge.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said, as she fascinated over the knife that carved off a thick crust of bread. ¡°I¡¯m going tomorrow for my induction.¡± A lie, but a needed one. Half the reason Margo had been so keen for Aelia to stay with them was the fact that Aelia had a source of income waiting for her in Rhodes ¡ª the allowance from the academy that she had not yet been accepted into.

    There an erk and a clank and the knife stopped dead mid-swing.

    ¡°Typical. Stone God be saved.¡± Margo slapped the board hard, but nothing happened. ¡°He says his gadgets¡¯ll make my life easier. But do they?¡±

    ¡°Um, do they?¡±

    ¡°Do they ''eck! They break when they shouldn¡¯t and work when they shouldn¡¯t, and dinner never gets made if I rely on them one bit.¡± Her face softened a smidge. ¡°Bless him for trying, though ¡ª but I do wish he¡¯d stick to his clocks. That¡¯s what sells and that¡¯s what keeps the flour in the pan and the bread in his stomach.¡± With that, Margo yanked the knife away from the contraption and carved a final piece. ¡°Here we are now.¡± She ladled something brown and steaming from a pot on the stove and handed a full bowl of it, plus two slices of bread, to Aelia.

    Aelia sniffed the bowl and the meat and gravy and rosemary, and whatever other heavenly foods were in the concoction, made her mouth wet. ¡°This looks incredible.¡±

    ¡°Hope it tastes it.¡±

    It did, Aelia decided, as soon the first spoonful met her tongue. Hot and thick and invigorating.

    ¡°Now tell me, what do you think of our little city?¡±

    Little! There was an exaggeration and a half. It was like saying the war with the Necromancer had been only a scuffle in the yard. Rhodes seemed like its own kingdom to Aelia, not just a part of one. ¡°It¡¯s fascinating.¡±

    Margo laughed. ¡°Oh, ain¡¯t it just that. Always something going on, but not always something pleasant. Why, just yesterday¡ª No, where are my manners. You¡¯ve just gotten here and would rather ¡®ere the niceties, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    While Aelia¡¯s curiosity was piqued by whatever had happened yesterday, it was probably more than she wanted to hear right now, so she didn¡¯t chase. ¡°I saw the Transformation before I arrived here. It was¡­ I¡¯ve never seen anything like it. How a place that big can change so completely, in front of our eyes? And the town was packed for it. More people than I''ve ever seen in one place ¡ª even at cattle auctions¡±

    Margo nodded. ¡°It¡¯s always packed. Oh yes, packed it is. Oftentimes, a lot hinges on the blessing so people want to know as soon as they can.¡±

    Aelia said neutrally. ¡°It was the Raven¡¯s blessing, this week.¡±

    ¡°Aye. We heard jus¡¯ before you arrived.¡±

    The lady didn¡¯t seem agitated. Not like most of the crowd had been.

    Instead Margo took a seat next to Aeila and asked, ¡°You enjoying your food? You look like you are, but I know a starving kitten ''ll eat jus'' ''bout anything.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the best meal I¡¯ve had in¡­¡± Aelia tried to remember when the last time they¡¯d eaten meat had been, back at home. It usually all got sold. And this was rich and warming. ¡°Well, in a long time.¡± She paused before she asked, ¡°You don¡¯t seem as upset as most that were at the blessing. Does it not... not...¡±

    ¡°It does. It might be a tough week. Good timing for you to arrive, to be truthful.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    That reminded Aelia, she hadn¡¯t paid the week¡¯s rent yet. And she was already eating their food! She reached down for her bag, but Margo said, ¡°You finish your meal before we worry about that.¡±

    "Thank you."

    With a sigh Margo said, ¡°It¡¯s not such bad news for us as it is for some. Our eldest son is a squire and he¡¯s out east in the borders of the Augmented Kingdom. The Raven might be hard on our pockets but it also might keep him alive for another week.¡±

    Aelia knew that pain, at least a little. She¡¯d been young when her father had gone to war, and perhaps she¡¯d always thought he¡¯d return safely, so perhaps not shared the same worries Margo had. But she¡¯d still missed him dearly every day, and had still prayed for his return.

    A boy, no more than eleven, with a mop of brown hair and a miniature bow and papery quiver slung across his back, sprinted into the room. He slid to a halt next to Aelia, and from the whirlwind he was, she guessed he must be related to Samuel.

    ¡°Hello,¡± the boy said.

    ¡°Hi,¡± she replied with a big smile. ¡°Are you a kingdom archer? You look like you are.¡±

    He paused, nodded. then sprinted off through the kitchen and out of another door at the end.

    ¡°Oi! Come tell our new guest your name and¡ª¡± Margo started, but the boy was already gone. ¡°Little brat.¡±

    ¡°He''s very cute. Is he your son?¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately so,¡± Margo replied, but she was grinning. ¡°Wants to be out with his brother, warring. Practices shooting sticks in the garden until night falls, most days. Still ain¡¯t no good at it though. Can¡¯t knock a mug off the wall from two feet away. His father¡¯s even made him a wind up bow that does the hard work for him ¡ª he just ¡®as to aim and fire.¡±

    ¡°Does that help him much?¡±

    ¡°It should do but he won¡¯t use it. Says it¡¯s cheating and real archers wouldn¡¯t use such a thing.¡±

    ¡°Well real archers are stubborn fools,¡± Aelia found herself saying (clearly her energy was returning), ¡°if they won¡¯t use a weapon that gives them an advantage, just because of some misguided principle.¡±

    ¡°Well ain¡¯t that the truth. But stubborn fools account for most of the army and their ilk. Would you like some more, dear? You finished that awful quick. Must have been starving.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, thank you.¡± She¡¯d shoveled it down hastily, and it had been too much for her stomach really, but her brain hadn¡¯t been quick enough to tell her she was stuffed.

    ¡°What¡¯ll you be doing at the academy, then?¡±

    ¡°Um, I think I¡¯ll find out tomorrow.¡± She never lied back home. Not really. Just little white ones here and there. But here in Rhodes, the lies seemed to fall out as easily as leaves off autumn trees.

    Margo nodded. ¡°Probably helping keep the Field up. That¡¯s what a lot of new students do, so I ¡®ear.¡±

    The field was not something Aelia wanted to do. She wanted to learn and practice new spells. Improve her control of the moss and how much power she could get out of it. Not just collect moss from the forests and be part of an endless repetitive ritual. Ah, not that it was without purpose ¡ª the Field surrounded the kingdom in a transparent light that no God could pass through. As such, it had to be kept up at all time. It was just a shame doing so was as dull as weeding.

    Dinner over, Aelia handed two silver and three copper to Margo, who gratefully accepted. Margo then led her up out of the kitchen, past the beehive-buzz of the study, and up the stairs to her room.

    ¡°Hope you find it acceptable. Oh, what¡¯s he given you there,¡± Margo said, looking at a large clock on the wall.

    Aelia had seen one a little like it downstairs. It had two carved slots at the top, like closed doors. But this one was larger and was painted a regal blue. She¡¯d never had a clock before and imaged this would be handy come the morning.

    ¡°If you find the damn thing as annoying as I did, you just bring it down to me and I¡¯ll find somewhere to shove it.¡±

    Aelia thought she could guess the place Margo would shove it and winced on Samuel¡¯s behalf.

    Margo left, closing the door behind her, and Aelia inspected her new lodgings. A slightly smaller room than her attic back home. But there was a good window looking down onto the now-empty street. Thick woven curtains hung either side of it, their design a tangle of florals. The windows, and even the door, were tight in their fittings. Aelia tapped her knuckles against the plastered walls. Thick. Heavy. Yes, the cold would struggle to find her here.

    She hurriedly unpacked her clothes, piling mostat the bottom of the room''s single wardrobe. Then she placed her thin dog-eared spellbook onto the bedside table. Finally, shecollapsed onto the bed, letting out a moan as she sunk in.

    Heaven.

    It was still early, but it felt late enough to her.

    ***

    ¡°Izzy.¡±

    ¡°Izzy? Are you there? Can you hear me?¡±

    ¡°Shit.¡±

    Aelia woke in a sweat gasping for breath.

    What a strange dream that had been. Or¡­ Or had it been strange?

    She grappled, for a moment, with the fleeting dream, but it had already faded away, leaving only a curious, intangible ripple in its place.

    Aelia lay her head back down and soon fell fast asleep.

 Chapter 6: A Different World

    A voice hissed in Lucas''s ear like the Eden snake trying to lure him to sin. "Did you speak to her?" it asked.

    Lucas was already regretting turning the chip back on -- he could almost feel man''s spit in his ear. "Yeah, sort of did." He kept his voice low even though the street was gray and dead. This was not a part of town he liked -- not that there was any part he liked much. But here, on either side of the road, a sky-scraping steel and concrete megastructure leaned in, blocking what little light made it through the perma-gray cloud above, keeping a deep bone-chill in the air.

    "Sort of did?"

    "My communication should have gotten through to her. Her synopses were firing as if she heard me. So yeah, I spoke to her."

    There were no other people on the street, only service-droids scuttering down the tarmac, transporting materials to the megastructures and their occupants.

    "Then what do you mean by ''sort of''?" the voice asked.

    "You see, I spoke to her. She just... didn''t respond."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    "Well, fuck."

    Lucas had never met the man at the other end but had gotten to know him quite well over the years they''d been planning. He''d even created an image in his head of an obese bald man with a vein on his forehead that came out and throbbed like a worm in the rain whenever he was angry. That worm was wiggling to the surface right now.

    The voice continued, "She doesn''t remember who she is?"

    "Doesn''t seem so. She''s just like anyone else in there right now."

    A long sigh. "That''s a billion-dollar asset we''ve lost. It''s only a matter of time before it''s noticed."

    "They''re running upgrades again on Friday, boss," Lucas said. "We''ll be able to exploit the firewall for another half-minute or so, as long as I can get back in range."

    "Shit. We can''t do it twice. They''re not stupid -- they''ll already know there''s been an attempt to access the network. They''ll be prepared for it next time. They''ll trace you and they''ll fucking track all of us."

    "I got no plans to talk to them if it came to it." He sounded easy and sure, but the truth was that getting caught wasn''t something he''d ever let his imagination play with. If the thought tried to come in, even knocked on the door, he''d shoot that fucker right down dead.

    The voice in his ear sounded exasperated. "If they find we''ve broken the rules... God fucking help us all."

    Lucas looked up at the roiling gray forever-sky. It was only now, years after the fact, that any light was getting through it at all. If it were all to happen again... God fucking help us sounded about right. "What do you want me to do then, boss?"

    A long pause, then it answered, "One more try."

 Chapter 7: The Academy

    Aelia crept out of the house and was greeted by the waft of fresh bread baking somewhere farther down the street. Dawn always smelled delicious, in Aelia¡¯s experience. Blackbirds nesting in a neighbour''s thatched roof sang a shrill concerto as she passed.

    She''d slept all afternoon and all night, and hoped she hadn''t appeared rude to her new family by missing dinner. But she¡¯d paid for her room and if she wanted to spend all her time inside of it, then that was up to her, she supposed. She was an adult, after all.

    Not that she''d truly felt like one.

    The streets were quiet, but a handful of shops were starting to open their doors. She passed a shoemaker''s (Toe in the hole) and a potter''s (Fred''s Pots) before she''d even left Old Hill. There was a world waiting to be explored for when she had the time. But first things first, she had to register at the Academy. She hurried through streets of stone and on to paths of earth that wound like dusty streams between houses.

    Aelia saw her first painted door not far outside Old Hill. A black cross had been struck out by a thick white paint stroke. A dead person had been taken from that home last night, she realized, and for that family the world would look very grim today and for a long time more.

    She wondered if Henry had been the one to collect the corpse.

    Half an hour later Aeia saw the Academy looming above her as if it sat on clouds. It was in fact seated upon a huge hill (that might as well have been a mountain) at the edge of the city. It part hung over a long rocky ridge at the hill''s apex, giving the illusion to those below that it was indeed floating. The main building was an imposing sight, half glass or crystal, half a striking red iron ¡ª not unlike her hair.

    But however spectacular it looked, the thought of having to reach it detracted from all would-be amazement.

    ¡°Come on,¡± she said to her legs. ¡°It¡¯s probably not as far or high as it looks.¡±

    It was at least as far and high as it looked, and by the time she reached the main doors her thighs burned their own furnace. She leaned over, hands on her knees, and took a few deep breaths.

    A handsome young man with long black hair wearing a matching black cloak strode out of the open doors before she¡¯d quite recovered. Too young to be a mage, but he might be a senior apprentice.

    He was about to pass by Aelia by, when (much to her annoyance) he paused and said, ¡°There are carriages that come to and fro each morning. Might suit you better.¡±

    She tried to think up a retort but her breath wasn¡¯t yet back and all she could manage was, ¡°Maybe you should¡­¡± Deep breath. ¡°Maybe you should take one then.¡±

    But both the timing and the man had already passed. She cursed her body and wished her mother had tasked her with some of the more physical chores on the farm, rather than feeding and grooming and negotiating prices. She really should be fitter than this.

    Aelia waited another couple of minutes, then held her head high and walked through the doors.

    The lady behind the desk was younger than her mother, but not by much. She had a thin almost fox-like face, and had prettied it was red and orange plant-extracts. Unfortunately, the colors only aided to the strong vulpine impression. The lady had her head buried in some kind of ledger and didn¡¯t look up even as Aelia leaned over the desk.

    Aelia coughed then said as confidently as she could muster, ¡°I¡¯m here to study at the Academy.¡±

    The lady let out a single high-pitched laugh. ¡°That¡¯s why everyone is here, darling.¡± She raised a finger to her mouth, licked it, then turned a page in her ledger.

    Of course they were all here to study. That¡¯s what an academy is for. Idiot. ¡°What I meant is, I¡¯m here to apply.¡±

    The woman finally glanced up at Aelia and flashed her a switchblade smile. ¡°And who is your referral, darling?¡±

    ¡°My referral?¡±

    The fox-like lady rolled her eyes. ¡°Everyone has to have a fully qualified member of the Academy refer them for application.¡±

    Her heart plunged. She had no referral. She knew no one at the academy. ¡°I¡¯ve got a good grasp of the basics,¡± she said, desperate. ¡°I can combust by tactum. And my telekinesis is pretty strong, I think.¡±

    The lady chuckled and closed her book. ¡°Fire by touch is barely a spell, my dear.¡±

    ¡°I can do it by distance,¡± she protested. And it was true. Sort of. As long as the distance was five inches from her fingers.

    The woman considered, stroking her pointed chin. ¡°Do you have your own moss?¡±

    That was something Aelia had been sensible enough to pack. Her left pocket was half-full with it. ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°Good. And what¡¯s your name, please?¡±

    ¡°Aelia.¡±

    ¡°Well Aelia, let¡¯s see what you¡¯re capable of.¡± The lady nodded at an unlit candle sitting on her desk. ¡°Light this.¡± She pointed to the doors Aelia had come in through. ¡°From over there.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Aelia opened her mouth to complain (that distance is impossible!), but instead closed it, swallowed, and took fifteen long steps to the doors.

    You can do this. You¡¯re gifted and you¡¯ve practiced hard. Besides, it¡¯s not as far as it looks. And if you don¡¯t do this, you¡¯re not going to get accepted. And if you don¡¯t get accepted you¡¯re not going to have any money. And if you¡ª Her arm was shaking as she silenced her thoughts. She took a deep fortifying breath. There was no point thinking about consequences. Failure was simply not an option for her.

    The wizard with the long black hair was back in the antechamber. She hadn¡¯t even seen him come in, but now he was standing against a glass wall, watching her with a big stupid grin plastered on his face.

    ¡°In your own time,¡± said the lady.

    Aelia took a handful of moss from her pocket (she wasn¡¯t powerful enough to use moss without touching it) and held out her free hand, pointing a finger towards the candle. Her arm trembled a little less now.

    Aeila tried to remember the order of the music note-like pattern she¡¯d spent months hammering into her head. One of the easier spells in her little book, but easier still meant fiendishly hard.

    And why did that damned man have to stand there and watch her?

    She clasped the moss hard in her hand and channeled the mute incantation through her pointed finger. She could feel the moss heating up, hear it crackling. A skilled mage would only need a single strip of moss, but Aelia would need the entire handful.

    She recited it internally, one note at a time. The moss was burning her palm, and the agony was flowing like lava up her arm. But Aelia would do this. That candle would light, by gods.

    There was a roar as a fire on the other side of the room burst into life.

    Aelia¡¯s heart rose as she thought, for half a second, that she¡¯d lit the candle.

    But now the fox lady was screaming at her, and¡­ She saw where the smoke was coming from. The ledger on the lady¡¯s desk was a flaming mass of red tongues.

    ¡°Um, sorry,¡± said Aelia.

    The young mage watching her was clapping. The fox-faced lady waved her hands over the fire and it died, but the open pages were singed black. Probably a lot more of the pages, besides.

    ¡°Well,¡± Aelia said. ¡°I created the flame you wanted ¡ª and did it from the distance you wanted.¡±

    The lady turned to her, her face as red as the flames had been. ¡°Out!¡± she yelled.

    ¡°But¡­¡±

    ¡°Out! Now!¡±

    That was it then.

    No Academy.

    No money.

    Back to the farm.

    Aelia blinked back tears as she stepped out of the doors. Gods, she was stupid. She walked a couple of paces to the side and opened the hand that had held the moss. Her fingers were reluctant to unclench, but when they did the blackned ashes of moss swirled to the floor.

    The skin on her palm was burned raw. Gods, no wonder her hand hurt. It was red, welted, peeling.

    And yet nothing like as bad the pain in her chest.

    She sank to the ground and did her best not to cry.

    ¡°That was pretty impressive,¡± came a voice from her side. She looked up to see that black haired mage again.

    ¡°Come to mock me?¡±

    He held up his hands and spoke softly. ¡°No. Honestly, I thought what you did was very brave.¡±

    ¡°Brave?¡± She half-laughed, half-cried. ¡°I just burned the hell out of my hand and was told to leave the Academy before I¡¯d even applied to it. What was brave about that?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve had no training, right?¡±

    She shook her head.

    ¡°Right. That¡¯s pretty clear, I hope you don¡¯t mind me saying.¡±

    So he was here to mock her. Of course.

    ¡°But that was a third year spell you just pulled off. With no training.¡±

    She glanced up at him, blinking back a tear. ¡°Third year?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a tough spell, especially from that kind of distance. Took me years to control it enough for anywhere near that accuracy.¡±

    She paused, then asked. ¡°If it was third year, then why did she make me attempt it?¡±

    ¡°Miss Parcen has a rather unique sense of humour,¡± he said.

    Sense of humour? Did he mean¡­ ¡°Oh. I was never going to be allowed in, was I?¡±

    ¡°Not without a referral from a senior or above.¡±

    She snorted. ¡°Great. You see, I didn¡¯t even know that. I just expected to come to Rhodes and be accepted. As if the world would just fall at my feet.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Aelia, isn¡¯t it? I heard you give your name to Miss Parcen. I¡¯m Coric.¡±

    ¡°... Hi. I guess.¡±

    ¡°Let me see your hand,¡± he said. ¡°It looked pretty red to me..¡±

    ¡°Why? Going to laugh at it?¡±

    His big brown eyes caught hers and he held her gaze as he said, ¡°Just trust me. Okay, Aelia?¡±

    Cautiously she opened her hand like a red flower blossoming.

    Coric placed his hand over Aelia¡¯s palm, not quite touching her skin. But it felt¡­ it felt like his hand was pressing against it. Hard against it. She winced as a new wave of pain washed up from her wrist.

    ¡°There,¡± he said. ¡°Moss accidents are common enough. That¡¯s why we get taught treatments before we learn any other spell.¡±

    He moved his hand and Aeila saw hers. It was still a little red but¡­ No welts. No peeling skin. No burns at all.¡±

    She looked from the apprentice to her palm and back again. ¡°Please teach me that,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m going to need to use it a lot, I think.¡±

    He grinned. ¡°That¡¯s the attitude. Don¡¯t stop just because of this.¡±

    An idea struck her and she wondered why it hadn¡¯t earlier. ¡°You could be my referral! I¡¯ll work hard, I swear.¡±

    Coric frowned. ¡°I¡¯m not a senior until next year. Or I would, I promise.¡±

    She thought she believed him, but it didn''t help much with the bitter taste of disappointment. Although¡­ It hadn¡¯t all been bad. What was it he¡¯d said? ¡°I performed a level three spell.¡±

    Coric nodded. ¡°You did. And you gave Miss Parcen a good fright and many hours extra work. Just what she deserved, I¡¯d say.¡±

    ¡°So I guess I¡¯m not a total failure.¡±

    He laughed. ¡°By no means.¡±

    Okay, she thought, so you didn¡¯t get into the academy today. But you will. You just need a referral. In the meantime, you¡¯re going to need to get yourself a job. And it just so happens you know where there¡¯s an opening.

 Chapter 8: The Five Kingdoms

    Margo didn''t appear to be home when Aelia returned, and Samual was locked fast away in his study. Aelia pushed her ear against the grainy walnut door and listened to the clinks and clank and occasional swears that leaped energetically from the frustrated inventor''s mouth. The swearing was as at least as inventive as anything else Samuel created, and Aelia had to stifle a laugh at "Demon God of Breast Cogs!"

    She took her ear away and walked into the kitchen.

    Most of her day had been whittled away in center of Rhodes, exploring side-streets with their little shops and their many taverns. This way, she was able to keep the Church of the Transformation always in sight (looming as it did above all the houses), and never need to worry about becoming lost. But exploration had only been a part of the reason for wasting the hours; she''d couldn''t have gone straight home without giving away her failure at the Academy. "Only there an hour?" Margo would ask suspiciously. And Aelia would have to lie her way out of that and deepen the hole she''d already dug.

    There would be lies anyway, of course. Answers to "What did you get up to there today? Isn''t it all a bit stuffy there? Do you like it much? What did you eat for lunch?" But those lies would be easier for her to construct.

    Mostly, she hated the lying and saw it only as a necessary evil, so that Margo didn''t worry (both about getting her rent in the future and about Aelia herself). But Aelia, if being truthful to herself, would have had to admit there was a nugget of pleasure mingled in. The fun of creating this second persona. During the day she had thrice found herself idly wondering what else she could add. Perhaps lie-Aelia could have a suitor, and she could gossip with Margo late into the night about his wicked (but enchanting) ways. Maybe she could be top of her class and skip a year, and Margo would be proud as anything to have such a talent staying with her.

    The letters home to Mother would be more difficult. The lies would falter when they came to paper.

    Aelia nosed around the empty kitchen and entertained herself for a while by trying to work out what a spiraling metal device that sat tall on a sideboard, could possibly be for. There was, as every contraption here seemed to have, a key in the side of it. Three eggs rested in a bowl nearby, so perhaps it had something to do with it all. She contemplated turning the key, and might have even done so if it hadn''t been for a yell that came from out the kitchen''s second door.

    Not a loud yell, not of someone in pain. A yell she knew better. Frustration.

    The second door led her to a small garden enclosed by high brick walls. A few plants and weeds struggled in an unkempt border that followed the wall''s perimeter. Propped up against the far wall was a rounded board with three colored rings painted onto it, each ring to the side of another. Scattered all over the ground by the far wall (except for below the board, Aelia noted) were piles of crudely pointed sticks.

    By the house, a young boy was stamping his feet on a stick. It had already splintered in half, but that wasn''t enough to satisfy Margo and Samuel''s young son.

    "Hello, Damien," she ventured as she stepped out onto the dried-out lawn. "I heard you yelling and... Is everything okay?"

    He looked at her then shook his head. His sandy hair was cropped short and didn''t move a whisker out of place. "Oh. It''s you, witch."

    "Mage," she said. "Or I will be eventually. What''s happened out here?"

    "My bow''s broken again."Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Ah. So that was the long stick beneath his shoes. She hadn''t noticed the length of string that had been half-stomped into the earth. "It looks very broken. It must have been an awful bow if it could just snap like that."

    "Yes," he agreed. "It was a terrible bow. Just broke when I wasn''t barely touchin'' it. The next one needs to be ten times stronger."

    He was as good a liar as she, Aelia thought, amused. "Your mother told me that your papa had made you a special bow. One that lets you wind the string up instead of hauling it back. She said it was very accurate."

    "I wouldn''t know," he huffed. "I''d never use anything that wasn''t a proper bow. I''m going to be a solider, see? So I need to use what soldiers use."

    She sat herself down on the step. "That''s good. The kingdom needs more brave archers like you."

    He nodded and smiled. "I''ll be a right hero."

    "And where will you be warring, young hero?"

    "Mmm," he considered. "With my brother. ''Gainst the augmented. All the way in the west."

    The battles with the Godless Kingdom were not quite a war, at least not yet. Both kingdoms were scoping each other out, exchanging border villages and partaking in minor skirmishes. No full invasion so far, thank the Gods. "East is where the augmented are," she said, correcting him.

    He frowned. "Huh?"

    "East. Where the sun rises in the sky. That''s where the augmented are." She got up and said, "Can I borrow part of your bow?"

    "What for?"

    "I''ll draw you a map."

    The boy''s eyes gleamed. He bent down and took the longer half of the snapped twig and handed it over.

    Aelia found the dustiest patch of ground in the garden and scratched out a long thick ''J''. "That''s our kingdom -- the Stone God''s -- at the very south of the world. Rhodes is at the top of the long bit, just there." She drew in a circle at the tip. "The first builders created the walled city here as it''s the best and easiest place to defend. Most of the kingdom is protected naturally, by the dark forests and mountains. But here, we''re squashed between the augmented, and the Necromancer." She drew two huge circles, one either side of Rhodes.

    Damien looked a little agitated, his feet clopping like a horse. "Didn''t know they were that close to us."

    "It''s not to scale," she said, drawing two more marks into the dust. "There''s a lot more distance than it seems. Now, the Necromancer is further bordered by the Dark Elf, and the augmented by the Dragon God. Each kingdom being bordered by two others helps create a kind of parity."

    "Parroty?"

    "An evenness."

    "Oh. Mmm, what''s beyond the forests and mountains?" he asked, his mind already moving on.

    Aelia frowned. "Has your mother not talked to you about all this?"

    "She doesn''t like to talk about anything to do with war."

    "Well, geography is not all about war." She drew a huge circle that encapsulated all five kingdoms. "Outside of the land is an endless sea. And it''s said that a sixth kingdom -- that of the Water God -- is somewhere on an island in that sea."

    "The Water God?"

    Aelia laughed. "No one''s ever even seen a person from the Water Kingdom and most don''t think it exists, so I understand not being taught that. But the sea is very real"

    "I bet the kingdom does exist," he said.

    "Maybe! What did once exist, and is well documented, was a further ancient kingdom next to the Dark Elf. Look, do you see how His kingdom is much larger than any other?"

    The boy looked at the Dark Elf''s land curiously. "Why''s it so much bigger? Isn''t that unfair?"

    "Well long ago, there was another kingdom next to His. But it was conquered completely, its God slew, and the land taken by the Dark Elf himself."

    Curiosity went to terror. "Gods can''t die! They can''t. Jimmy''s mum told me that, so I know it''s true."

    Oh dear, she hadn''t meant to scare him, just to distract him from the archery. "Well our God can''t die, of course! Because no other God can enter our kingdom, thanks to the mages here and the shield they generate. So only people may pass. And what person could slay a God? That sounds impossible to me."

    That seemed to reassure him, at least a little. "And if another God did get in," he said, "The Stone God would stamp on their heads anyway!" As if to demonstrate, he found one of his arrows and stomped on its neck until it split.

    "I''m sure He would. He''s by far the greatest of the Gods, after all, and we''re blessed to be in His kingdom."

    "He''s the best!"

    She patted the boy''s hair then left him to his stomping. "Nice to talk to you Damien, but I''ve got to go in now."

    The boy ignored her and continued his task of boot-into-wood.

    Aelia needed to have a nap, she decided, if she was going to catch Henry tonight. She didn''t know where he lived exactly (silly not to have asked!) but she knew how to catch him.

 Chapter 9: Dead Cold

    Aelia sat shivering on the doorstep, knees up, arms tight around herself. It would be dawn soon and she¡¯d have wasted an entire night trying to keep from freezing.

    It hadn¡¯t taken her long to find a door with a black cross painted on it. Hadn¡¯t even needed to go outside of Old Hill. And she knew this was on Henry¡¯s route, so sooner or later he¡¯d find her there waiting. Or at least, that had been the plan. But six hours gone and two-dozen brisk strolls up and down the street to keep the numb out of her legs and he still wasn''t anywhere to be seen. The bread she¡¯d saved from dinner was now just crumb in her pocket.

    Aelia forced her legs straight, deciding she¡¯d walk off the cold a final time before calling it quits, when a distant padding rustled the air.

    The orange glow of the lantern bobbed along the bottom of the street, the horse and rider invisible in the gloom. Disembodied light, at least from here.

    It made Aelia think of the bodies the cart would be carrying. That she¡¯d be carrying, soon.

    No. She wouldn¡¯t let herself shiver this time.

    She¡¯d seen death before. Had put down a horse with a broken leg herself, once ¡ª and she¡¯d only been young then, buoyed on by her parent¡¯s encouragement.

    But she''d then spent the best part of a week in tears.

    The light lurched, its bright beam inspecting a doorway but finding nothing. It continued.

    Soon she saw Rufus, and behind the horse, pooled in an almost spectral light, was Henry.

    The horse trotted up towards Aelia before halting.

    ¡°Well, look who I didn¡¯t expect to see again,¡± said Henry, voice as loud a whisper as possible, as he turned the lantern¡¯s beam onto Aelia. ¡°It¡¯s the young girl we mistook for a tourist, isn¡¯t it Rufus?"

    The horse gave a low whiney.

    Aelia covered her eyes. After all this time in the darkness, the beam was blinding. ¡°Where have you been? I¡¯ve waited here all night. I¡¯m absolutely freezing.¡± She added, ¡°And will you get that damned light out of my eyes!¡±

    Henry laughed as he clambered down from the front of the cart. He twisted something on the lantern that blocked the beam and created a gentle bubble of light around them. ¡°This street¡¯s on the way back to the Mortuary. Last one I take in Old Street. One of the last I do, period.¡±

    Aelia glanced over his shoulder to look at the bumpy blanket that stretched across the back of the cart. From its height, she judged there must be at least two layers of bodies beneath it, at least at its center.

    Henry pulled at his greasy hair and began to twirl it around his index finger. ¡°Let me think now, Aelia. A girl who has been accepted to the Academy, and who is given a generous allowance by them each week, has waited a whole night just to see me.¡± He paused. ¡°It must be love.¡±

    She glared hard and hoped he could see her expression in the weakened light.

    ¡°Or,¡± he said, moving his hand to his chin. ¡°There¡¯s an outside chance that you need a job, I suppose. But that¡¯s so strange, seeing as--¡±

    ¡°Maybe I don¡¯t need the money at all, but I fancied a little excitement.¡±

    ¡°Not enough of it at the Academy?¡±

    She let out a long sigh. Henry was one person here she didn¡¯t need to lie to. ¡°I haven¡¯t been accepted.¡±

    He faked a gasp and clasped his hands over his mouth.

    ¡°Yet! I will get in. I¡¯m already handling advanced spells and I just need to get a referral now.¡±

    ¡°Right. Sure. But in the meantime, you need a job.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Know how to use a set of reins?¡±

    ¡°I was raised on a farm. There¡¯s no horse, cart, or wagon that I can¡¯t steer.¡±

    ¡°Prepared to handle dead bodies? Bring them into the cart?¡±

    She paused. ¡°... Yes. Not a problem.¡±

    Henry removed a pair of tattered cloth gloves from his hands and passed them to Aelia. ¡°OK. Go for it.¡± He nodded at the door behind her with the black cross. ¡°You¡¯ll find the door unlocked and the body waiting for you.¡±

    She glanced over her shoulder than back at Henry. ¡°You don¡¯t want me to steer?¡±

    ¡°Not to be harsh, Aelia, but last time you had contact with a blanket your threw up, let alone a real dead body. I need to see you can handle the grimmer aspects of the job if you''re going to be my partner.¡±

    That was unfair. She hadn¡¯t been prepared for the smell. And her constitution had been drained by lack of sleep from the long journey to Rhodes. ¡°Fine,¡± she snapped. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Put the gloves on.¡±

    ¡°What? Why?¡±

    ¡°Health and safety. The Great Mortuary doesn¡¯t want its workers exposed to the plague.¡±

    She took the gloves and held them up. Three of the fingers were missing, two more were more holes than fingers. ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°Rules are rules.¡± Henry was grinning. Aelia decided she wouldn¡¯t give him any further satisfaction. She pulled on the gloves (that felt like spiderwebs) and turned.

    The lantern¡¯s beam was back, Henry airming it at the door.

    She strode up, took a deep breath, and turned the handle.

    The horse she¡¯d put down (slit its neck and stood dumbstruck as hot blood had stained her shoes until her father pulled her away) had been called Clay. A strong working horse that in death had looked so frail. And its eyes¡­ from life to death, they hadn¡¯t changed. Hadn¡¯t clouded or darkened. Just stayed locked on Aelia¡¯s, as its blood gushed over her.

    She¡¯d never forgotten that moment.

    The dead body that lay in the hallway looked nothing like Clay, thankfully. But Gods, it was odd. It was (had been?) a slight man, and his eyes had been shut respectfully. His legs were straight and he wore shoes, pants, a shirt and, even a tweed jacket. He looked like he was going to church. One arm was folded over neatly onto the opposite shoulder.

    But the other arm was not in its socket ¡ª the left jacket arm hung empty. The missing appendage jutted straight out of his ribs, ripping through both shirt and jacket.

    The strange body looked almost inhuman, and that helped Aelia¡¯s stomach. Looked more like a malformed tailor¡¯s doll than a real person.

    But Gods, what kind of plague could do this? It seemed more like a giant had ripped his arm off and stabbed it into his sides.

    She tried lifting it first. The man had been small in height and weight, so it seemed a reasonable thought. But it was like lifting a slab of iron and she barely raised him off the ground before he thumped back down.

    Ok. Fine.

    Aelia grabbed the man¡¯s left ankle with her (barely) gloved hands and dragged. The hallway was wood and smooth and he slid along it easily. A little harder when she had to pull him over the bump of the doorway.

    ¡°Really, Aelia?¡± said a frowning Henry as he watched her clunk the body down the doorstep, his head banging on the stone.

    ¡°He¡¯s already¡­¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°He¡¯s already dead. Right?¡±

    ¡°Fine. Just hurry up and get him in.¡±

    She dragged him with great effort to the rear of the cart before running into her next problem. The edge of the cart was a good few inches off the ground.

    Okay. Two options. Either step into the cart full of dead bodies and drag him up. Or try lifting him again.

    Option one seemed more realistic.

    She peeled back the blanket, made a little room by shoving back a body with her hand, and hopped up -- all the while holding her dead man¡¯s ankle.

    ¡°Ahhh!¡± she groaned, as she hauled him up, bit by bit. "Come on, work with me here!"

    She was sweating and panting by the time he was fully in.

    But it was done. Henry could eat crow ¡ª she knew he hadn¡¯t expected her to be able to do it.

    Aelia took another few breaths, not wanting to look as exhausted as she felt for when Henry saw her. The smell in here was rough ¡ª some bodies were clearly further into decomposition than others ¡ª so she drew breath through her mouth. It helped somewhat.

    Aelia was about to jump down when the body of the dead man she¡¯d hauled in reached out and scraped her leg with its ill placed arm.

    What the....

    She should have screamed ¡ª wanted to, but nothing came out.

    ¡°Henry,¡± she gasped. ¡°The light.¡±

    ¡°What about it?¡±

    Her voice was sheer panic. ¡°Shine it here, quick, for the sake of the Stone God! Please.¡±

    Henry obliged and the bodies lit up, a few dead eyes gleaming. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°Something... Something touched me.¡± But the arm she thought she¡¯d seen raise was lying flat against the bottom of the cart.

    ¡°Like¡­ a bug? We do have big bugs in Rhodes. I suppose a young girl might find them a little scary.¡±

    ¡°Not a damned bug! I¡¯m not scared of bugs. I mean one of the bodies touched me.¡±

    Henry didn¡¯t reply.

    Aelia realised it was likely because she sounded crazed, rather than Henry being stunned into quiet by the horror, as she had been.

    And the body¡­ it was perfectly still, now. All the bodies that she¡¯d uncovered when she¡¯d pulled back the tarp were still.

    Of course they were.

    They were dead.

    ¡°Aelia¡­ Are you¡ª¡±

    She could lose her job before she got it. Shit. No. She was scared. Petrified, even. But she¡¯d have to swallow it back. And maybe it had been her imagination after all. It had been too dark, really, to see. Maybe she¡¯d just stepped back into the arm. Knocked it back down.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said, trying her best to keep her voice level. ¡°I think I just touched one of the bodies behind me and¡­ I¡¯m just not used to working with the dead.¡± She forced a smile.

    Henry nodded. ¡°Well get down and come around here. We need to get to the Mortuary.¡±

    Yes. Getting down. Why hadn¡¯t she done that already? She took a last look at the man she¡¯d moved. The dead not-moving man. Then she climbed down and walked back to Henry.

    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay?¡± he asked

    She nodded but she could taste the sweat on her lip creeping into her mouth.

    ¡°Okay. Good.¡± He passed her a wooden bucket that had a dredge of white paint at the bottom and an old brush standing against the side. ¡°Go put a line through the cross and we¡¯ll get going.¡±

    It was probably a bad time for her to ask, she knew, but regardless she said, ¡°Do I get the job?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s not up to me. You¡¯ll need to speak to the Mortician when we get there. But I¡¯ll put in a good word! I¡¯d be glad to have you work with me.¡±

    Her face dropped. ¡°This¡­ isn¡¯t a trial?¡±

    ¡°Nope. I don¡¯t have that kind of clout. Or any, really.¡±

    ¡°Then¡­ Then why did I remove a body if you can¡¯t even hire me!?¡±

    He shrugged. And there was that annoying-as-all-hells grin again. ¡°You seemed cold. But look all warmed up now.¡± He paused then added. "You''re welcome."

 Chapter 10: The Great Morgue

    Aelia caught a whiff of the graveyard -- if it could be called that -- long before she saw it. It pervasively perfumed the air miles around it with the scents of rotting flesh and feces disguised (a little) by a sweeter flowery fragrance. That perversity made it far worse than the blanket she had once wrapped around her shoulders. The dishonesty of the smell boiled her stomach and she did her best to stop it rising up her throat.

    "You didn''t check his pockets?" Henry said, chastising.

    "Of course not," argued Aelia. "Why would I do that? I''m not a graverobber."

    Henry sighed. "He''s not in the grave yet, is he?"

    "Point stands. Besides, wouldn''t his family have taken anything of value off him already?"

    "Would you touch a dead body that could give you the plague?"

    Aelia grew indignant and a little concerned. "I just did! And if you think these gloves were any protection, then--"

    "You and I both know we can''t get the plague from touch. But the families don''t. Superstition is still rife, even here. Most of them don''t want to risk putting a hand in an inside pocket."

    "Well, how do they get them to the front door without touching them?"

    He shrugged. "They get inventive. Maybe they puy the body in a rug and roll it there. Maybe they just prod it along with sticks."

    She almost laughed at the image of a family rolling a body along with sticks as if it were a game, but quickly repressed the image, angry with herself for having thought it. "Either way, it''s still stealing for us to do it."

    "We''re honoring the dead."

    Aelia snorted. How could stealing from a recently deceased person be honoring them?

    Henry continued, "I''m sure they wouldn''t want their fine property to go to waste, buried forever under the ground."

    "No," she said, considering, "what I suspect most would like is for their ''fine property'' to go back to their family."

    Henry rolled his eyes but said nothing. Aelia considered it a little victory.

    Houses (the few poor houses that lived in range of the foul odor) became more sporadic and the city itself seemed to have been left behind them -- although they were still within the walls, Henry assured her.

    The sun was rising nervously and the ground oranged by its first beams. Aelia saw the earth around the wagon was loose here, as if recently turned. Not entirely, just little unmarked patched. Rectangles of disturbed soil.

    The cart bumped its way over the mounds. Aelia wanted to ask about them, but also didn''t want to ask about them. It would make what she knew was under them a fact, and she had enough facts to carry already.

    Before long, there were no houses. Just a wide expanse of land, parts grassy, but mostly naked red earth. She heard clinking somewhere ahead, and soon saw the silhouettes of a good dozen men and women with spades in their hands, their backs hunched over as they piled earth to the side of new tiny pits.

    "Welcome to the Great Morgue," Henry said, as the wagon rolled past the gray-faced gravediggers.

    It didn''t look like a morgue. Barely looked like a cemetery. But there were occasionally mounds she noticed that had wooden planks sticking out of them.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    "Why do some have those sticks and not others?" she asked.

    "Relatives can pay the Morgue for extra services. Get their loved one''s name carved into the wood so they can come here and find them. Pay their respects."

    "Come here?" she said, a little aghast. "Who would want to visit this? It looks like a battlefield where both sides lost."

    "Not many choose to visit," he conceded. "More for worry of the plague than for how bleak it is here, I suspect."

    No wonder, she thought. Even her own body wanted to jump off the cart and run back into town. But she needed a job and she''d come all this way.

    A structure loomed into view. A strange structure for anywhere in Rhodes, Aelia thought. Not brick. Not thatched. But a large marble building with a domed roof. It wasn''t quite circular, although it had a circular enough shape. It was many-sided, each flat. Next to the strange structure stood (just about stood) three wooden shacks.

    A couple of horses and carts were parked outside one of the shacks, and a handful of people queued by the arched door of the main building.

    "What is that place?"

    "That''s the Morgue itself. It''s there where Phileas lives."

    "Who''s Phileas and why the gods would anyone live here?"

    "Didn''t I say? He''s runs the Morgue -- and as such, he runs us. Oh, speak of the devil!"

    The doors of the marble building slowly opened, and a tall man with long tufts of white hair on the side of his head stepped out. He wore a grey cloak, that might have once been white, and reminded Aelia of a priest.

    "Is that him? Phileas?"

    "That''s him." Henry guided Rufusto the nearest of the three shacks, where bales of hay and a trough of water waited, along with two other horses. He hopped down and unhitched Rufusand patted his head. "Good work tonight, boy." Then, he turned to Aelia and said, "Come on, we''d best join the queue."

    But the queue had already dispersed by the time they''d reached it and Phileas was turning to go back inside.

    "Excuse me," Henry said, jogging up to the old man. "Mister Copperville!"

    Phileas stopped, then turned to face them. Up close, Aelia saw that his face was a web of scars. Some deep, others raised as if the wounds that had caused them had been melted shut. His lips were thin and one of his eyes was white and only white, and she wondered if he was blind in it. His overall appearance made him look as if he had more right to a grave than the body she had hauled.

    "Ah," said Phileas. "Mister Potro. What can I help you with? It''s not payday and I won''t pay you early."

    Aelia couldn''t bring herself to look at that ruined face for long. She glanced back and noticed that their wagon had been swarmed by the group of people that had been queuing. They were pulling down the bodies, removing shoes and jackets and throwing them into wheelbarrows.

    Gods, she wanted to be back on the farm right now.

    "You might remember, sir, that my esteemed colleague Warren quit on me, a few days back."

    "Ah, you''re chubby little partner. Stopped turning up for work, is that what you said?"

    "Yes, sir," said Henry.

    Aelia would have been amused by how formally Henry was trying to speak (she was sure he''d even poshed up his accent) if she hadn''t been so revolted by the entire situation.

    "And this," Henry said, putting a hand on Aelia''s shoulder, "is a good friend of mine, a hardworking friend, who I would greatly like to work with me as Warren''s replacement. She''s already helped me out tonight, no charge, and was to me, invaluable."

    Aelia forced herself to look back at the malformed mortician and even did her best to smile. "Pleased to meet you, sir." Did she really need this job? Give it a few days and she could probably find tavern work. How hard could it be to pour drinks and sweep cellars?

    "What''s your name, pretty child?

    I''m not a child, she wanted to say, but instead answered, "Aelia."

    "Aelia. With the phoenix hair." He held out a hand. Long spindly fingers with nails that twisted around themselves.

    She repressed a shudder as she took it. It''s just a hand, she reminded herself as she shook. Just a horrible dirty palm.

    He let her hand drop and spoke to Henry, "You may have her. The plague is increasing its potency, it seems. More bodies are needed all around." He smirked, then said, more to himself than to Henry, "It might be back to pits instead of shallow graves soon."

    "Thank you, sir," said Henry. "We won''t let you down."

    "Show her where the equipment is. She''ll want her own gloves and lantern."

    "Sir," said Aelia, awkwardly. "Thank you for hiring me."

    He smiled, showing sharp crooked teeth.

    "But I''ve one question."

    "And that is?"

    "Do any of these... victims, do any of them move after death?"

    He frowned and looked curiously at her. Then laughed. "Everyone worries that the dead aren''t so dead when they first start, my dear. No one wants to bury someone alive." He paused as if to let the words sink in. Then added, "You''ll soon get used to working with the dead."

    Something about his answer did less to reassure her than it did to add a new layer of concern.

 Chapter 11: Considerations

    Aelia thought her body was ready for the grave, by the time Henry dropped her off at Whit Street. Aches crept up her bones like dye drawn up into a woody decomposing flower.

    "I''ll pick you up at midnight!" he''d shouted after her, as she stumbled down the cobbled street.

    Midnight. Maybe if she slept all day, midnight would be possible. Maybe.

    A groan crept out of her mouth as she saw the horse tied up outside her house. She''d been hoping everyone would be out -- not extra people in. Someone was probably buying a timepiece from Samuel.

    But maybe it would work out. Maybe the buyer would be a distraction and she could just creep up the stairs unnoticed. Fall into bed and be dead to the world.

    And if she was seen... she''d just say that there were no classes today. That a teacher was taken by the damned plague.

    Luck was not with her. Someone in a long black cloak, back to Aelia, was talking to Samuel in the hallway besides the stairwell. No way past without being seen.

    "Ah, there''s the wonderful young lady herself," said Samuel, as she stepped inside.

    "Good morning," she said.

    The cloaked man turned. It took her a second to recognize the raven hair and strong handsome features.

    "Coric?"

    "Hello again, Aelia," he said.

    Oh shit. Why was he here? Had he let slip to Samuel that she hadn''t been accepted?

    "Your friend has been looking over my motionechular, while he''s been waiting for you," said Samuel.

    "Quite the device," Coric said.

    Aelia couldn''t find any irony in his voice.

    He continued, "Wonderful, really. If we can prove the model, I really think we could get it scaled up and commissioned for trial."

    "We?" said Aelia.

    "Coric thinks he might be able to enchant my model so that it unwinds at a quarter of the current rate. Without it losing speed, mind you." Samuel turned to Coric. "I must confess, it sounds too good to be true."

    "Magic can often be too good to be true," Coric said. "But this particular spell will work. We would simply be burning moss that we''d tuck into a carved out hollow on the main body. It would aid the mechanism, fueling it, in essence," he explained. "It would only take a few ounces of moss too, per day and at full scale. It''s how a lot of the army''s steam power works. Wood as the primary source, moss making it a little more efficient to burn." He paused then added, "Never seen it used with a wind up before, though. And that''s the thing -- I believe it''ll be far more efficient than wood."

    Aelia smiled and said, "Coric, as nice as it is to see you, and as kind as it is of you to offer to help Samuel, might I ask what you''re doing here in the first place?"

    "Why Aelia, I''ve come to see you, of course."

    "I''ll leave you two students to it," said Samuel. "I have clocks to get ticking, and as they say: time waits for no man."

    Students. Samuel had used the plural. A breath whistled out of Aelia''s pursed lips.

    Coric laughed politely. "It was nice to meet you, Samuel. We''ll speak soon about your motionechular."The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    "Lovely!" Samuel gave a slight bow, turned, then returned to his study.

    "You didn''t tell him," Aelia said, relieved.

    Coric grinned broadly. "Someone''s been telling a few white lies, I do think."

    "Don''t judge me." She lowered her voice. "I didn''t want to worry them. You know, if they thought I couldn''t pay the rent."

    His eyes fell searchingly over her face. "But you... can. You can pay the rent, can''t you? You look tired. Like you''ve barely slept. Wait... Aelia, have you--"

    "I''ve not been selling my body or anything, if that''s where you''re going!" Her cheeks were red, a mix of warm embarrassment and anger.

    He raised a hand and shook his head. "I was just going to ask if you''ve slept at all."

    "Oh." She ran a hand over her face and cursed her tongue. Why had her mind gone to that place? Probably wouldn''t get much money selling her body anyway. "What are you doing here? And for that matter, how did you even find me? I didn''t tell you anything beyond I was staying in Old Hill."

    "Well this part you might be a little mad about," he said.

    "Tell me."

    "I tracked you using a little of the burned moss that fell from your hands."

    Tracked her? Like she was some kind of animal that he was hunting? "How dare you?" she said. But she wasn''t as mad as she wanted to be. A little flattered, even.

    "I''m sorry."

    She waited a moment, wondering if her rage would burn hotter, but instead if fizzled away completely. "How did you track me with moss?"

    "There''s a device in the Academy where we can analyze it. Trace its last few hours. Find where it was originally picked, too."

    Now she was doubly flattered. He went to all that effort to find her? "Why?"

    "You said you wanted to learn basic healing for moss-burn." He imitated her voice poorly, cocking his head slightly. "Oh Coric, you simply must teach me that healing spell."

    Those hadn''t been her words, had they? She glanced at her right palm. Then at her other, trying to remember which one had the moss had singed. But they looked near identical. "That''s nice of you," she said. "Thanks."

    He smiled. "You''re welcome, Aelia. Like I said, I think you have potential. But you can''t keep practicing without guidance. You''ll get nowhere fast. Not to mention that you''ll end up hurting yourself again."

    "So, what? You''re going to guide me?"

    "Just for a little while," he said. "Help get your basics smoothed out."

    "Oh." She shouldn''t really be disappointed, but her stomach had sunk. The thought of Coric teaching her seemed like a future full of possibilities.

    "Then, I''m going to introduce you to my tutor. If she likes you as much as I do, and if she sees the potential in you that I do..."

    "Yes?" she asked excitedly.

    He shrugged. "Then she might sponsor you. Might be your referral."

    She opened her mouth but said nothing. Couldn''t think of what to say. Eventually, she managed a single word, "Thanks."

    "Don''t thank me yet. She might not agree to it. She''s rather particular with who she recommends, as how those people do throughout their time at the Academy reflects on her."

    "Then I''ll make her proud."

    "We''ll see." His eyes scanned her face again. "Perhaps we should start tomorrow."

    "I''m not half as tired as I look," she lied. "Today is fine. Better than fine."

    He considered, then nodded. "Perhaps a few hours, then. I think we''ll go outside the city walls and find somewhere remote. Go get your moss and we''ll be on our way."

    "I''ve got it with me," she said, padding her left jacket pocket. She always had it with her. But there was barely a bulge in her pocket and Coric winced.

    "That''s all the moss you have?"

    She nodded and felt strangely guilty. Not that it was her fault -- it had been hard enough to find that much moss in the first place. Perhaps it was guilt about how much of it she''d wasted at the Academy.

    "You''ll need more than that. You''ll burn through it in an hour of practice." He ran a hand through his long black hair as he thought. "You were working tonight, weren''t you?"

    She nodded.

    Coric didn''t pry further, although Aelia wouldn''t have lied to him if he''d asked about it.

    "I can get you a decent rate on moss," he said. "I mean, I really shouldn''t -- it''s Academy rates and not to be resold. But..."

    "That would be amazing!" she said.

    "Four silver for an ounce."

    She reeled at that. Admittedly, it was half the rate that she could get it for, maybe even better than that -- but it still stung. The graveyard job covered the rent and a little more, but not that much more.

    "Aelia. Can you afford that? I''d say you''d need six ounces. After that, if things are going well, I''ll take you to meet my tutor."

    She couldn''t afford it. Heck, you''d have to be a graverobber to afford that much moss.

    Oh.

    "I might be able to," she said, picturing her hand stealing into the pockets of the recently deceased. Henry said the job paid well, but what he''d meant was it paid well if you supplemented it in the way he did.

    "Great," said Coric, clearly pleased. "We''ll still do today''s lesson. We''ll use what moss you''ve got, plus I''ll give you a little of mine."

    The thought of taking from the dead felt muddy and murky. But what choice did she have? She''d come to Rhodes to study, and Gods, that''s what she was going to do. Morals be damned.

 Chapter 12: Unpleasant Surprises

    The cart rocked gently over the stone streets and Aelia fought hard to stop the motion lulling her to sleep. The night was quiet except for the hum of the wheels turning, and for Rufus''s gentle clips and clops against the stone.

    Her training with Coric had gone well, she''d thought. At least for a first session. He''d taken her outside of the city walls to a copse of oaks and demonstrated an advanced spell that he promised she''d learn eventually. He''d raised a miniature twister, only as high as his knee, up from the earth itself, that sucked up the leaves from the ground and crumbled them to debris. Then, he''d leaned down and blown it, sending it shooting forward, until eventually, it dispersed.

    She''d joked that it would be a useful spell for cleaning a house. Coric had smiled politely but she''d felt like an idiot for saying it.

    Then the young mage had burned the skin of his left palm, much to Aelia''s dismay.

    "You''ll practice your healing on my hand, not your own," he''d said, before taking her through the spell.

    After several hours, his hand was still raw and the skin still peeled -- but it was a little better than it had been when she''d started. Thanks to her healing, she''d hoped, not just from the time that had passed.

    Aelia had only gotten two or three hours of sleep, by the time she''d had to get up to meet Henry. It had taken a long while for the excitement of the day (and previous night) to wear off, so she''d lain in bed imagining casting her own whirlwind someday soon.

    "Penny for your thoughts," said Henry.

    "Hm?"

    "You looked deep in contemplation. Either that, or you were about to fall asleep."

    Both were true, Aelia knew.

    "You need to be looking out for crosses, Aelia. Not daydreaming. Nightdreaming. Whatever it was."

    "Sorry." She held up her lantern and aimed it at the doorways of the houses they were passing. "All clear so far." Then she added, "You know what you said yesterday about taking from the dead. That it honored them to uh, to not let their possessions go to waste?"

    Henry laughed. "Oh, I remember. Had a change of heart?"

    "I need to earn more money. I can''t afford enough moss on the job''s income alone."

    "You especially won''t be able to afford much this week," he said.

    "Why''s that?"

    Henry frowned. "Week of the raven. Don''t tell me you''ve forgotten already? You seemed so impressed by it all at the church."

    Gods be damned. How had she forgotten? "How much will we earn this week?"

    "About half of what we otherwise would."

    Damn. Then the next rent would have to come, at least partly, out of the money her mother had given her.

    "But if you mean what you''re saying," Henry continued, "about honoring the dead, then I think we can earn quite a nice little extra together."

    "I do mean it," she said, with no hesitation. "I need that money. And it''s no good to the dead now, is it?"

    Henry shook his head, amused. "None at all."

    "So, how do we... you know, make money from it? Surely shops don''t buy it all off you. Wouldn''t they be suspicious about where it all came from? I doubt they''d want plague-infested goods. Or illegal goods, for that matter."

    "I''ve got contacts that will do the selling," he said. "They take a small cut but nothing gets traced back to us this way."

    Aelia nodded. Henry seemed like the kind of person who would have contacts. She shone her light onto the next house. Nothing.

    "How did you get into this line of work?" she asked. "Surely it''s not a job many people go looking for. And it seems to only pay well if you take a little extra."

    Henry shrugged. "I like working with the dead. They''re always quiet and rarely complain." He shot her a grin but Aelia didn''t laugh. She thought of the hand last night as they''d been working, the hand she''d imagined reaching up from the cart floor and scraping her leg.

    Henry was both so open and so mysterious at the same time. Happy to tell her anything, but the answers always seemed vague. Who were these contacts? It was like how he''d told her he had no parents. She guessed he meant he''d been orphaned, but why not say that? Perhaps he was embarrassed. Or bitter. She wouldn''t blame him for being bitter. How lucky she had been to have been born into a family that loved her so deeply.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    The lantern light fell across big black cross. "Stop," Aelia said. "We''ve got one."

    Henry pulled the reins and Percy halted.

    Aelia clambered down. She''d be hauling bodies tonight, Henry tomorrow. They''d agreed to take in turns.

    The door was unlocked, and as usual, a body lay in the hallway beyond. Aelia wasted no time, grabbing the dead lady''s ankles and yanking her out of the house.

    The lady had been slight and it was easy enough to get her up into the cart. She wore a plain brown dress with no pockets. But Aelia spotted a silver necklace hanging around her neck, with a single stone bauble in its center that represented the Stone God.

    With a deep breath, she reached around the woman''s neck and unfastened the trinket. She pocketed it for the moment, then grabbed the bucket of paint and drew a white line through the cross on the door.

    "Better than nothing," Henry said, as Aelia showed him her prize. "Might get a couple of silver, depending on the quality."

    The next few houses they stopped at held further riches. Watches (none of which bore Samuel''s inscription, she noted happily), bracelets, and leather belts. They weren''t allowed to take shoes or clothes (besides belts) as they were the property of the Great Morgue. But anything else was fair game, Henry said.

    Best of all, she''d found a few silver coins in a gentleman''s pocket. They shared them out evenly and Aelia hoped they might find a few more before the night was over. She''d soon have enough for a week''s worth of moss at this rate.

    How quickly she''d gotten used to dealing with the dead. Strange, she thought, how she could be almost excited about finding a body when only a few days ago she''d been sick at the thought.

    They rolled along a quiet street that so far had no houses infected by the plague.

    "Did you hear the news?" Henry asked.

    "What news?"

    "War with the augmented is ramping up."

    She hadn''t heard that. As far as she knew, there had only been a few skirmishes with the Godless Kingdom so far. "Oh?"

    Henry nodded. "They burned down the whole of Riarmonte. Slaughtered the guards, then locked the townsfolk inside their homes and set the whole village alight."

    Riarmonte was a border town, and in that way a dangerous place to live. But it was also a farming village, and the people there innocent of anything other than living. "Gods," said Aelia. "That''s an act of war."

    "I wouldn''t be surprised if we look to avenge it tomorrow. I could easily imagine a few hundred horses marching. The Stone God will not let it go unpunished."

    "I hope He won''t," said Aelia, thinking that it could have been her little farming village. Could have been her family locked inside their home and burned alive.

    They hadn''t seen the men approach.

    Three of them dressed in dark clothing.

    The first Aelia saw of them was the glint of a knife. Then, a man hopped up onto the cart next to Aelia and put a blade against her neck.

    "Stop the cart," said the man.

    "Shit," said Henry, glancing at Aelia. "Shit!"

    "Stop, or she gets it, then you get it."

    Henry brought Percy to a halt. The two other men, both brandishing knives, jumped into the back of the cart.

    "We''re a plague cart," Aelia said, feeling the cold blade against her throat as she spoke. "If you want to catch the plague, fine. But you''d be sensible--"

    A palm slapped her cheek hard. She winced but wouldn''t let herself cry.

    "Leave her be!" said Henry. "What do you want with us?"

    "What little treasures have you found tonight, body thieves?"

    How did they know they were thieves? Aelia wondered. Did all plague bearers steal from the dead and it was just presumed?

    "We have little of value."

    The knife pressed harder into her neck.

    "Whatever you have, hand it over," said a second man, hovering behind Henry.

    Henry sighed as he passed over the bag of goods they''d looted. "You''re lucky the lady is with me," said Henry, defiantly, "or there would be hell to pay."

    The men laughed. "The kid thinks he''s brave, does he? Well, let''s find out how brave."

    The second man brought his knife to Henry''s ear. "Think you can lose it without screaming?"

    "Go to hell," said Henry.

    The panic in Aelia''s stomach was giving way to anger. She wondered how much moss she had left in her pocket. Probably just crumbled remnants -- she''d used nearly all of it earlier while training. Probably not enough left to do any real damage. But still... She snuck a hand quietly into her jacket pocket. Then, in her head, she recited the order of the fire spell. She wouldn''t need to cast it at range this time, and that would help make more of the little moss she had.

    She raised her hand to her neck, gently touching the man''s arm.

    The man screamed and the knife fell.

    Aelia stood up and held her arms wide. "I am a mage of the Academy," she said, as confidently as she could manage. "If you do not leave us now, I will turn you all to flame!"

    "She''s lying," said the third man.

    "She''s not!" said the first, already down from the cart. "The bitch burned my arm."

    "You have five seconds," Aelia said. "Before you all become ashes."

    The two remaining men looked at each other. Then they jumped down, bag of goods in hand, and fled.

    When they were out of sight, Aelia collapsed back down. Her hand was burned again. The spell had been a strain with such little moss.

    "That was... amazing!" said Henry. "Just, amazing. Took real pluck. Could you really have done that?"

    She shook her head mournfully. "I was lucky to singe the man''s arm. And either way, we still lost our earnings.

    Henry laughed. "You just defeated... Look, Aelia, it sucks we lost a bit of money, but we have the corpses still. They''re what matters. We''ll get paid at the end of the week. And tomorrow night, I reckon we''ll find even better loot. This was a victory for us. They won''t bother us again."

    A phyric victory, she thought as she examined her burned hand. She didn''t even have any moss to try to heal it. She''d have to put up with the welts and the pain.

    "It was stupid of you to say they were lucky I was here or you''d have had them."

    "Well, I would have done," he said, insistent.

    "Oh yeah? How?"

    He paused. "... I''m a good fighter. But not when there''s a knife to a lady''s neck."

    "Oh, sure."

    "We need to get the Morgue," Henry said, changing the topic. "It''ll be sunrise soon."

    "Fine. We don''t need to talk about it. Just know that it was stupid."

    Henry lifted the reins and Percy began to trot.

    It was a victory, in a way, Aelia supposed. Maybe she shouldn''t be so upset. She''d scared off a group of bandits through her use of magic. A bit like a real mage would have done -- even if her threats had been bluffs.

    A smile snuck onto her face as they rolled down the streets and headed to the Morgue.

 Chapter 13: The Stone God

    Aelia hurried her way through the city, eager to reserve a good spot near to the church, to not have to wrestle her way through the crowd again.

    She''d come straight from training with Coric and knew she was sacrificing sleep to be here, and knew too that tonight''s work would be very long and very trying. But in her mind, there hadn''t even been a decision to make. She had to be here. Besides, she wouldn''t have been able to sleep anyway, not with this much adrenaline coursing through her veins.

    The Stone God was to address his people.

    All her life she''d dreamed of seeing Him. How tall he must be, how strong, how magnificent. But all she''d had to go on were the tales her parents had told her time and time again, like favorite shoes that had been well worn out. But this! This was a real chance to see the Stone God. The greatest of all the Gods -- at least in her mind.

    She was to meet Henry at a butcher''s near to the city center -- A Cut Above. Then, they''d go together to hear the God''s address. It was nearly all they''d talked about the last two nights as they''d worked. And what good nights they had been. Aelia had been able to afford four day''s worth of moss to use for her training, from just two nights of work. And that didn''t even include the pay she''d receive (albeit heavily taxed, this week) for the job itself.

    There had been no corpses rising from the dead trying to reclaim their possessions from her. There had been no more bandits (she had wanted to report the robbers to the city guard, but on account of what was taken, Henry had persuaded her that it was best left alone). Her basic healing spell for moss-burn was improving, not to mention her control of fire over distances was a little more accurate. And best of all, there had been today to look forward to.

    All things considered, it had been a very good week, so far.

    "You took your time," grumbled Henry, who she found pacing outside of the butcher''s.

    "Sorry. I was busy and it was hard to get away."

    "Oh yeah? With that mage again?"

    "He''s not a mage. Just a senior. And yes, you know I''m training."

    Henry rolled his eyes and Aelia wondered if he wasn''t just a little jealous. Perhaps it had been good that Coric couldn''t come to the address after all. He had classes to attend, and right now they were more important to him. The news from the address would get to him in no time anyway, he''d said.

    They walked at a fast pace towards the square where the Church of Transformation stood, and before long they saw the black tower with the raven bell looming over them.

    It was already getting busy and there was still a good while before the address.

    Henry barged his way through the crowd. "Excuse me. Sorry! Just need to get past to reach my friends. Sorry!"

    Aelia followed close behind before the gaps in the crowd melted back together

    They both knew -- or at least, thought they knew -- what the address was to be about.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    No army had marched into the Godless Kingdom the day after Riarmonte had been razed -- much to Henry''s surprise. But the Voice of the Stone God -- a little man, but a man more powerful than any other in the kingdom -- had announced that He would be visiting Rhodes to make an address on Friday. It could only be about upcoming war, they decided. The people of the Kingdom demanded retribution. More than that, they demanded safety. Which border town might be next?

    So when Henry and Aelia saw the five naked people tied up to stakes outside of the church, they exchanged a curious glance.

    Three men had multiple arms. Four arms, four arms, and six arms. The other two -- women -- were even stranger looking to Aelia. They had... what looked like... wings. Huge grey wings that were conjoined to their backs. But the wings were badly torn. Dozens of holes, perhaps from arrows, had been put through them. Occasionally those tattered remnants caught a gust of wind and became a little taut, and gave Aelia an idea of how magnificent they must have once looked.

    "I didn''t know we had prisoners," said Henry.

    "Is that what they are?" She knew how stupid that sounded as soon as it left her lips. Naked people tied to stakes. They were unlikely to be favored guests of the kingdom.

    "Well, it''s obvious they''re augmented soldiers. So..."

    Of course they were. In the Godless kingdom, every man and woman played god for themselves. Their bodies were tools for them to shape and shift and distort, with no respect to their creator -- whomever that had been. Aelia had heard about many tales about people with extra legs or arms, or even those with holes in their stomach that they used like pockets.

    But she''d never heard any tale about women with wings.

    "Do you think they work? The wings, I mean."

    He shrugged. "No idea. I hear a lot of their disfigurements are just to make them stand out. Or to look prettier. Some kind of twisted idea of vanity. And look what it''s done for them."

    There was something horrible about how they''d all mutilated their bodies, Aelia thought. And something sacrilegious, too. Yet the wings were fascinating. She rolled back her shoulder blades and imagined beating her own wings, taking off over the crowd.

    "Why would they want to start a war with us?" she asked. It was the same question she''d asked Henry a dozen times already during their shifts, but it still confused her. What was the point in all this death that was to come?

    Henry scowled. "They think they can win, Aelia." Then he added something he''d not told her before. "And honestly, I wonder if they might be able to."

    She didn''t like that answer. "Why do you say that?"

    He shrugged. "Our army was trained for the war with the Necromancer in mind. Our paladins and knights, half of our wizards even, are strong against the undead. But not near so strong against other humans. Especially humans like these."

    Humans like these, Aelia thought. Humans that could wield multiple weapons at once. That could fly high above them and swoop down like hawks. And gods only knew what else they had done to themselves, what else they were capable of.

    "And even after the war with the Necromancer ended, we kept training the same troops in case the war began again. We''re unprepared for this. But I very much doubt the augmented attacked us unprepared. If they wanted to provoke a war, it''s because they believe they can win it."

    "But we have the Stone God," Aelia said.

    "Yes. We do." Henry paused. "And yet, they still attacked."

    Aelia was about to reply when the raven bell boomed out. For a while, she forgot all about the prisoners and stared at the church doors, waiting for them to open.

    But they didn''t open.

    It was the front of the church itself that began to crack. A huge jagged fissure that ran down from the arched roof to the great doors below.

    "What''s happening?"

    Henry didn''t answer. He too was transfixed on the church.

    Strange, she thought, seeing as how Henry must have seen Him many times before. But perhaps like her, Henry was enraptured by even the thought of the God. If Aelia had seen Him a hundred times before, it still wouldn''t be enough.

    The building split open.

    The two halves of the front side of the church slowly pulled apart. Smoke billowed into the air and a screech of metal deafened the crowd as gears turned.

    And out of the darkness of the church''s stomach stepped the Stone God.

 Chapter 14: Ripples II

    The retina scan shot a wave of green light into Lucas''s left eye.

    He flinched, as he always did, but pressed the nail of his index finger deep into his thumb. The slight pain that swelled usually helped relax him through mild distraction.

    And he needed to relax. The scanner wasn''t just identifying him. It was measuring his pupil dilation. Looking for signs of excitement or anxiety.

    But Lucas was nothing if not professional. The light faded and the doors hissed open.

    Storage unit 2359 was unremarkable. Just like any of the other of the vast mega-structures in the city.

    City. Lucas thought that was too kind of a word for what this place had become. City spoke of people and vehicles and noise. Of life.

    Here, everyone might as well have been dead.

    Like all the storage units, it was run automatically. By droids, mainly. Robots built for specific purposes: cleaning, transportation, maintenance, repairs. Most droids were small and unobtrusive, but some were eerie facsimiles of humans, just without the skin. As if it had been peeled back to reveal that humanity was just a metal creation all along.

    There were still repairs beyond droids though, thankfully. And that had given Lucas his way in.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    He stepped in the lift and pressed for the 24th floor. It lurched up violently and, a second later, stopped at least as jarringly. These lifts weren''t meant for humans and they always caused Lucas a few moments of mild nausea after usage.

    The light was soft purple in the corridor. Helped the droids'' visual sensors operate at maximum capacity, so he''d been told. The corridor itself was metal. Cold chrome. No need for pretty wallpaper or cheerful paint here.

    Lucas had needed to disconnect his boss before he''d entered the building. Any illegal communication in or out if the storage unit would be pounced upon. No way to send signals to his target undetected, from outside of it.

    Inside though, that was a little easier.

    He turned into a second corridor and counted the rooms until he found it.

    A second retina scan. He dug his nail deeper into his thumb until a splash of blood dropped onto the chrome floor. The door opened and he walked in.

    Lucas called them coffins. The hundreds of glass tubes that stood in eight long rows across the huge room. Each tube contained a naked body floating upright in gel, dozens of tiny wires running from their heads and spines into the frosted top of their unit.

    Two of the coffins that he passed were empty. He guessed the virus was doing its job. Not that killing was its primary purpose.

    Finally, he found her.

    The repairs he was meant to make -- a connection to a neighboring coffin that he''d rigged to break, on his previous visit -- should only take a few minutes for him to carry out. And his time would be monitored closely. He would have to fix the problem and speak to her within the time.

    Lucas needed to jog her memory or he wasn''t going to get paid. More than that, his boss wouldn''t be happy with him. And that meant trouble. As it was, Lucas was already shouldering the blame for her memory loss. His boss saw it firmly as his responsibility to get sorted.

    Lucas slid the bag off his back and set to work.

 Chapter 15: Voices

    Aelia was sirened into silence by the Stone God. He strode from out of the open church, confident and graceful. Nothing could be so perfect as this almighty being looked. His body was whisper-white and what stone he had been carved from -- if it was stone from the ground at all -- Aelia could not say. He wore tan cloth around his waist but no other clothes. A god who taught modesty to his people. His stomach was sculpted as if by streams that had met in a river running down his center. The male body perfected.

    Aelia felt a hot love for him burning her chest. Not like the love she felt for family, or for any man. But something far deeper. Greater.

    The Forgotten Monks followed reverently behind the Stone God. Aelia saw that they were at most only a quarter of His height. So small and pathetic in comparison to Him. So plain and ordinary.

    Aelia glanced at Henry, but he didn''t notice her. His eyes were too focussed on the God that walked amongst the living. No wonder the crowd was silent.

    She waited for Him to stop walking, to turn and to address the crowd, but he sauntered forward until he reached the prisoners.

    "What''s he going to do to them?" Aelia whispered.

    Henry shook his head, but for once he had nothing to say.

    The Stone God bent down and put three fingers on one of the men''s heads. "I grant you peace."

    "Please!" she heard.

    Crack.

    She gasped as He released the man''s head and it rolled across the paved ground, dripping a trail of crimson behind it.

    This hadn''t been like the stories her father had told her. Of how God had presented the people of Rhodes with a boon of food -- a hundred cows that were herded out from somewhere deep inside his church, and slaughtered and roasted there and then, and all the people there fed at no charge.

    No, she thought. It was a little like that. Only the prisoners were like the cows.

    "Repent." The voice was a ripple of thunder but it was also silk. It pleased the ears but it shivered the back. "Repent," said the Stone God a second time. "And the rest of you may live."

    The prisoners remained silent, as far as Aelia could tell.

    "As you wish," He said. "Then I have no choice other than to force purity upon you."

    Aelia could hear the cracks as he ripped off the extra limbs, first from the two remaining men and then the wings of the women. Their screams flooded the air as their blood spattered both the pavement the Stone God himself, the bright red a stark contrast to his quiet body. It trickled down him, into the rivulets of his abdominals.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Aelia''s stomach rocked. This wasn''t what she''d come to see. Did the prisoners deserve this?

    Yes, she supposed. They had likely been part of the raiding force that had burned villagers alive. And that could have been her mother and sister. And yet it didn''t feel right. What would happen to their own army? What if Samuel and Margo''s elder son was captured? Mercy surely had to run two ways.

    The bodies quivered against the stakes, until they didn''t.

    The Stone God turned to the gathered crowd. Blood still crawled and dripped from him.

    "War is upon us," He said.

    A few cheers arose from the crowd behind Aelia. But only a few.

    "We did not ask for it, but it has arrived." His arms went wide, His palms up, face carved into a sympathetic expression. "I know this is not what my Kingdom desires. Too pained and fresh are your wounds, my children. But I know too, that more attacks will come. That many more of my people will perish if we do not act." He paused for a moment, as if to let the resonance of his words sink in. "I know that your children will not sleep at night if they fear that death might come cowarding to them through the dark. Do your children not deserve to sleep safely?"

    The cheers were louder, this time. "They do! They do! We all do!"

    The Stone God observed His people. "War is upon us," He repeated. "But we shall persevere. We shall be victorious. For I shall march with our army, and we shall crush all who stand in our path."

    Now the cheering was a deafening roar. She heard the person behind her say, "God''s marching with them? God? Is this real? How can we lose if He is with them?"

    God had never left His kingdom, as far as Aelia knew. Few Gods did. Only the Dark Elf ever had, at least that she could think of.

    "We prepare our army now. In two days time we march."

    Then, God turned, and walked back inside the church, into the darkness within, as the crowd still cheered fervently. The monks followed. Then, the mechanism that had opened the front of the church, splitting it like an axe in the stomach, reversed.

    Henry wasn''t yelling, but he did have a huge grin on his face. He caught Aelia''s eyes and said, "Well, that was a spectacle, wasn''t it?"

    Yes, Aelia thought. But not a pleasant one. Not what she''d been hoping for. Dreaming of. God was gone again, and in his place he had left five bloodied corpses. The ground beneath them was scattered by body parts and covered in blood. And what had the Stone God achieved? He had committed his people to war.

    "Aelia?" Henry shouted over the noise of the crowd.

    She forced a smile. "Yes, it was indeed a spectacle."

    Henry''s face melted into a frown. "Then why do you seem like the prisoners were your parents? Look around you! Everyone is excited. Elated, even. Never has He gone to war before."

    "Why does He now, then?"

    "To end it quickly! What can the godless kingdom do against His power? It''s not like the last war. They have no necromancer. Just a council of fattened up decision-makers."

    Hadn''t Henry said a few moments ago that he believed the augmented could win? That they wouldn''t choose to go to war unless they believed they could be victorious?

    And she had thought he had a point.

    But like everyone else here, Henry had seemed to have been hypnotised by the God''s words.

    Or... was it her? She was the only person near that wasn''t celebrating like the war was already won.

    The crowd was deafening. Henry was talking to her again, she could see his lips moving but his voice was too quiet. Silent, even.

    She was hot. Why was she so hot?

    The crowd was like a fever boiling her skin.

    The nausea was welling inside of her. She could hear the popping echoing in her head, of the augmented prisoners as their limbs were taken from their sockets. The snapping.

    Henry''s face was twisting now, as he approached her. His nose long and pointed like a bird''s beak. And his skin was bubbling.

    Was he mouthing her name?

    No. It was a different voice rattling inside her skull.

    Can you hear me?

    She stepped back. Didn''t want to be touched by that... thing that Henry had warped into.

    Then Aelia collapsed as blackness arrived in her eyes.

 Chapter 16: A Different View

    "... hear me? ... or else you''re going to..."

    Aelia was blind.

    She was also drowning.

    She must have been drowning as her body had been swallowed up by liquid. It oozed around her head and legs and--

    She held her breath.

    Had to hold it. Or else she would surely drown.

    And yet her lungs kept moving.

    That was almost worse than if the glutinous soup had flooded down her throat and begun to choke her. That at least would have made sense.

    Her lungs should not have been moving by themselves.

    Something was... was -- Oh Gods! A great snake had wriggled into her mouth and down into her throat and deep into her belly. Its scales were pressed hard against her lips and she could hear it hissing into her stomach, exhaling its foul breath into her. Get it out, she wanted to say, to scream. But the snake had stolen all her words.

    "You need to relax! If you keep panicking they..."

    There was a voice.

    Somewhere out in the darkness.

    Was it talking to her?

    Aelia tried to raise an arm, meaning to rip the snake from out of her mouth. But her limbs wouldn''t cede any control to her mind. They floated limp and useless in the thick mixture that had enveloped her.

    "... two minutes, max and then ... hear me? Force yourself to relax!"

    Dad? Coric?

    No. She''d hoped one had come to save her, but it was neither. It was unfamiliar.

    So who was speaking to her? Telling her to relax.

    And how could she relax when she was drowning?! And yet... not drowning. When her body was broken and unresponsive?

    The last thing she''d seen, that she remembered, was the holy visage of the Stone God. He''d ripped the limbs asunder from the prisoners and had--

    Had that happened to her? Is that why her body was crippled? Perhaps she had no limbs now, and herself would have to crawl like the snake that had wriggled into her.

    Had she sinned and been tied to a stake, and the Stone God had carried out his merciful task?

    If so, why wasn''t she dead? Unless she was dead.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Her left eyelid, sticky as all hells, began to peel open. A bright purple light sliced at her pupil and she forced it closed again.

    A male voice said, "That''s good Ael. That''s real good."

    No, he hadn''t said Ael. It was more like Elle.

    "We''ve got about one minute left. I''m sorry about this, but I had to wake you this time, as the last..."

    Her head thrummed. Waves of deafening reverb blocked out the voice and she wanted to scream as they rattled her head, but the snake had consumedevery sound.

    "...remember which corporation you''re working for or we''re both so fucked that..."

    Corporation? What was the voice talking about? Gods, why wouldn''t it just shut up and leave her to die in peace?

    "...the virus is heading for its point of maximum impact, Elle. That''s going to be your best chance. They''ll figure out a cure before long, so we''re-- Ah, shit, that''s it we''re out of time. Just try to remember the simulations. Casting spells should be the same in your current world."

    She opened her eye again. Caught the hard facial features that were staring imploringly at her.

    "Elle? Have you even heard me?"

    The words danced around her like some haunted music box. Elle Elle Elle it sang, but the meaning of the tune itself was lost, the notes of the melody out of order to her ears.

    "Fuck -- for both our sakes you better have been listening. Look, I got to put you back in now, okay? Get you reconnected. But it won''t be forever. Once you complete your mission we''ll come and collect you. You''ll get to go back home."

    The paint on the music box was flaking off.

    The wood crumbling to dust.

    The music dimmed.

    <hr>

    Aelia gasped for breath and her hand instinctively shot up, searching for her mouth.

    Nothing on it.

    No snake clogging up her throat.

    "Thank the Stone God!" said Henry. His face hovered above her like a pale vulture come to take whatever meat was left on her bones. "I was pretty worried about you, Aelia."

    "What... happened?" she asked.

    "You fainted. So I carried you back here and... I was just going to find someone to help, but you woke up." He leaned over her. "Open your mouth." Henry tipped a little water out of a leather flask and it landed on her tongue, dribbling down her dry throat. And all she could imagine were little snakes riggling down into her stomach.

    She retched the water back up.

    "It''s okay," Henry said. "Take as long as you need."

    However long she''d been out had been too long already, she thought. Henry held out a hand; she took it and gingerly sat up.

    She saw now that had been lying in his cart.

    Like one of the dead bodies that they collected every night.

    Aelia imagined the death-stained blanket over her corpse and Henry taking her off to the Great Morgue.

    The laugh swelled in her stomach then burst out of her lips. Why she was laughing, she had no idea.

    "Aelia?" Henry asked.

    She shook her head and swallowed back the laughter. "I''m-- I''m sorry. I don''t know what''s happening to me."

    Words, some she understood, some she didn''t, swirled around her head: Corporations. Virus. Elle. Simulations.

    Why were those strange words inside her? How did they get there?

    "It''s okay," said Henry. He slid onto the cart next to her and wrapped his arms around her. She let herself be pulled in to his embrace. Warm and firm. Like her father''s hugs had been long ago.

    When he let go he said, "I''ll take you home. Then, tonight, you rest."

    "But I need to make sure I--"

    "No," he said. "It''s not a request. I''m not letting you work with me tonight. You''ve been burning the candle at both ends. You''re completely overworked and overtired and perhaps, when you''re better, you should make a new schedule." He paused. "Maybe you could cut down on the hours you spend with Coric so that you can get a little more sleep -- which you desperately need. You need money to live, so your job needs to come first. Okay?"

    Aelia was too weak to argue, but she knew already that she wouldn''t give a moment of her training time up. She wasn''t overworked, anyway. She could handle it. Just... her body had... something had upset it today. All the blood, perhaps. Yes, it had upset her. Everyone faints once in their life, she thought. That was just her turn.

    "Take me home," she said, looking into Henry''s baleful brown eyes.

    For a moment she feared he''d press the subject, complain further over his jealousy of Coric, or her being overworked, or whatever it was that was upsetting him. But he just nodded and instead helped her to the bench at the front of the cart.

 Chapter 17: No Rest for the Wicked

    Connie hadn''t wept when she''d seen Wilbur''s corpse staring at her that morning. She''d shrieked, yes. But hadn''t wept -- and she was somewhat happy about that.

    The expression on his face was the same as that he''d worn in life. A look that gave the impression he''d sucked on one too many lemons, and now everything had gotten so used to being that way, that it had become firmly stuck. All his facial features pointed forwards accusingly -- the ridge of his eyebrows, the pout of his lips, the strip of hair either side of his head.

    So it had taken Connie a moment to realize that her husband was indeed dead.

    In the end, it''d been his unblinking eyes that had given him away as a corpse.

    They''d always betrayed him, his eyes. When he''d been out that night and it hadn''t been at the tavern (she''d searched there first of all), it had been his eyes that had given him away. Connie had long suspected he''d had a thing for Norma at the fishmongers (Norma! Older than Connie and not as pretty), so when he''d finally returned home she''d asked him what he''d been up to.

    "Tried a new place for a drink," he''d said. And his breath indeed wafted booze at her as if to prove his point. "And I had food out, ''cause it was late and I was ''ungry."

    "Have any fish for dinner?"

    He frowned, his lemony features hardening. "Nay. Meat pie." But his eyes. They glinted guilty and excited.

    And now he was dead.

    Connie would have to find work, she supposed. But that might not be so bad -- she''d meet people. Being in the house as much as she was, always cleaning then cooking for when Wilbur came home, she didn''t get to meet many people. Her friends from childhood had gently melted away as if they had been snowflakes and their lives had become spring.

    Her life, of course, had been stuck in winter.

    One of Wilbur''s arms was missing. Oh, no, there it was. She''d found it as she''d peeled back the bedding, thrusting out of his stomach as if someone had run a sword through him. Or an erection, she thought dryly. Hadn''t been able to get one of those in two years (at least, not with her), but now he gets the biggest one of his life. The ol'' bastard.

    Then Connie felt a little bad about the thought.

    She threw the sheet back over him as if throwing on soil over a shallow grave. "Bastard," she snapped again, annoyed that she''d have to burn the good linen. It''d taken weeks to save up enough for one of the few luxuries in her life. The bedsheets were perhaps top three of her little luxuries, somewhere just behind the new ringer. Never had she been able to squeeze water out of their clothes half as well as that machine could.

    But there was nothing to be done about it. She wasn''t going to die the same way he had. And she''d heard it spread if not contained. Might be too late already. If it was, then she supposed there was no need to prepare dinner for Mary and herself tonight.

    No, best to be safe. She''d prepare it anway.

    Oh, yes. Mary. Yes, she best go tell her daughter of her father''s demise.

    Thud thud rapped her knuckles on her daughter''s door. "Mary, sweetie, I''ve some terrible, terrible news."

    Mary sat up in bed, her expression changing like mercury between anxious and excited. "Is it Father? Tell me it''s not Father."

    "I''m afraid it is. That terrible awful plague that is ravaging the city has found our dear sweet man."The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Mary bit her lip and looked to the floor, trying her best to appear glum.

    The two hugged, and both (when sure the other couldn''t see their face) grinned. Good riddens, you miserable old git, they thought.

    "What''s to be done?" said Mary.

    "I''ll get the paint down from the attic and we''ll make our door how the Jones'' did theirs, back when their little Peter passed."

    Mary nodded. "Tonight?" Had she sounded too eager? Maybe she should say something. "If I sounded eager, it''s only because I''m scared the plague might spread to us."

    But Connie understood and told Mary so. "We''ll roll him in the sheets and put him by the door. They''ll collect him tonight, if they''re using our taxes as they say they are."

    Now Mary really did feel sad. "Not your good linen sheets!"

    Connie shrugged pragmatically. "There''s nothing to be done about it."

    It was a struggle to get Wilbur out of the bedroom. The wood of the floor was warped and uneven and he kept getting jammed as they rolled the linen-wrapped body. He was heavy, too. His stomach swollen by years of ale and pies (his favorite, that he demanded his wife make at least twice a week with very thick pastry). But they found that once they had him through the doorway, that he moved a little easier.

    By the time he got to the stairs, he was almost floating. He bounced merrily down them and Connie thought it was the happiest she''d seen him since that night he''d had with the fishmonger.

    He landed almost in the right place, just by the front door.

    "Well," said Connie. "That''s that."

    "Yes," Mary agreed. "That''s that." And thinking she should say something more profound, she added, "I''ll miss him?"

    "We both will. Now what''s say we have a drink and celebrate his life."

    Mary smiled. "We don''t have to talk about him though, do we?"

    "No dear, I think he''d rather we had an enjoyable night on his behalf, than a miserable one." Of course, that wasn''t true and she knew it. Wilbur would much rather they had been miserable ever-after, after his death. The ol'' bastard.

    The wine had been good. Wilbur had hoarded so much wine (wine and his precious pale ale that he coveted more than any woman) that the night had turned into a feast of liquids. Connie thought they wouldn''t get much for selling it (they would have done) and so suggested they spend the next few nights enjoying it, instead.

    And that first night they did just so. The kitchen sang as the ladies bellowed out song after song, wine splashing from tankards in their hands, smiles splashing high up their faces. When was last time they''d had a night like this? Connie had wondered.

    Never.

    They went to their beds (Connie''s sheets changed to a cheap and rather coarse, prickly cotton), the house spinning, hearts still singing, and fell promptly asleep.

    Connie woke to a most dreadful scream. She thought for a moment it was coming from her own mouth, so drunk she still was.

    But then it came again, and she was almost certain it wasn''t her.

    She swung her legs out of bed and nearly fell as she did so. "Mary? Is that you?"

    There it was again. A third scream. And a "Help me," too.

    Connie didn''t like the sound of it all very much. Something odd about it. She stumbled out of her room, her shoulders thudding the wall in the corridor as she steadied herself. "Mary, your mother''s coming," she said.

    She didn''t think of needing a weapon. That was the drink, it was still dulling her mind. It was a shame, as a good weapon might have helped her.

    But probably not.

    Down the corridor she went, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. She should have kept a candle burning last night and she cursed herself for blowing them all out.

    If there had been candles lit, perhaps she would have looked down the stairwell as she passed it and seen the conspicuous absence that did not lie there. The flatness of the linen sheets, as if the body that had been in them had gone through her ringer.

    Connie entered Mary''s room.

    The screaming had stopped by then.

    But she could hear heavy breathing.

    "Mary?"

    She stepped into a wet patch and winced. "Did you have an accident, dear? Alcohol can do that to people, no matter their age. Your father was often--"

    And then she saw him.

    The arm that protruded from his stomach wriggling and writhing.

    At his feet lay the still and silent body of their daughter.

    "Gods have mercy," Connie said. "I thought you were dead."

    He said nothing, but took a step towards her.

    "Should have known you''d come back to take me with you."

    Wilbur, or rather the body that had recently belonged to Wilbur, took another step forward and moved a cold clammy hand up to Connie''s neck. His fingers wrapped around her. Like iron, she thought. As cold and strong as iron.

    "Damn you," she choked. "You old basta--"

    The thing that Wilbur had become squeezed its hand tight, its strength far greater than Wilbur''s had ever been in life.

    And easily, it tore Connie''s throat from out of her neck.

 Chapter 18: Like Clockwork

    The house was quiet as Aelia crept in and for a moment she had thought it was all together empty. But as she walked through the hall towards the kitchen, she noticed Samuel''s door was open ajar. She peered through the gap and saw the watchmaker seated behind his desk, head slumped sadly in his arms.

    She considered walking past and into the kitchen to find something to eat, as had been her plan, followed by going to her room to either sleep or to think about her fainting. But Samuel looked so dejected and out of sorts, Aelia thought, that she found herself knocking on the door.

    There was a cough, a long pause (although she heard rustling) and then finally a, "Come in."

    Aelia opened the door and wore a bright smile as she entered. She still felt a little weak (and very strange) since fainting, and had been glad Henry had insisted on taking her all the way to the front door -- but seeing Samuel now, red eyed and dejected, any concern for herself drained fast away.

    "Oh, it''s you, Aelia," he said, squinting and attempting a smile of his own. His hand ran over his desk until he found his rounded spectacles, which he promptly slipped on over his nose. "That''s better. Yes, it''s definitely you."

    "I wasn''t sure anybody was in."

    "Margo has gone shopping with Damien. Need some supplies for tonight''s dinner. Stew and dumplings, I do believe, which I''m sure will be delicious."

    Aelia suddenly realized that the wooden track that had run around the perimeter of the room was missing. The room was still filled with all the marvelous clocks that ticked out of rhythm and filled the air with a cicada-like hum. But the track was gone. "Where''s your motionechular?" she asked, pleased she''d finally remembered the name.

    He ran two fingers across either side of his mustache. "I''ve disassembled it, for the time being. It''s up in a box in the attic and there, I think, it shall remain."

    The whirlwind of a man that had opened the door to her when she''d first arrived now spoke slowly, and every word seemed considered, as if the storm that had once powered him had now petered out and all that was left was a ghostly gust.

    "Why''s that?" Aeilia asked. "I thought you and Coric were going to enchant it so that you could... I don''t know exactly what you were going to do. Get it commissioned on a larger scale?"

    He shook his head. "That was all pie in the sky, Aelia. It was a childish dream that I was wasting my time on. That I''ve wasted too much of my time on."

    Aelia felt a little uncomfortable and wondered if the watchmaker was currently three sheets to the wind. But she couldn''t spot any half-drunk bottles sitting anywhere in the room. Still, this wasn''t at all like the man she''d first met. "Are you... Are you okay, Samuel?"

    He smiled but the smile cracked and he let out a long sigh. "Ah, I suppose you''ll find out sooner or later, a smart girl like you. Business isn''t doing so well, Aelia. I''m sure you''ve noticed, but there has not exactly been a throng of customers coming in and out of the house since you''ve been here."

    She had noticed. Hadn''t seen any customers, in fact. But Aelia had concluded that Samuel must mainly do bespoke work for customers and that the goods were perhaps even delivered to them.

    "I''m sorry to hear that."

    "Margo was right, as always. Thank the Gods I''ve got her. Yes, I need to get back to my watches. Simple things, not like these." He gestured to the magnificent clocks and timepieces that surrounded them. "No one wants a timepiece that costs ten times the price of something else that can do the same job -- and is less practical, to boot"

    "Samuel," Aelia said kindly, "I think your clocks are wonderful."

    He let out a short laugh. "Wonderful doesn''t pay the bills!" He paused then added, "Sorry. It''s just... Well, thank the Gods we have the rent from you coming in."If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Aelia wanted to hug the man behind the desk, but he didn''t look in the mood for that. He was probably too proud, anyway. Instead she said, "Perhaps people just need to see what you''re making. These are so different to what anyone else is doing. No one else can create clocks that--"she looked around until she found the perfect example--"that have a frog''s head spitting out metal balls every ten minutes, until the scales they land on weigh enough to move the hour hand fully. What child wouldn''t love that?"

    "Children don''t have much money, it turns out."

    "What I''m saying..." What was she saying? "Is that... That you need to get your clocks seen, Samuel. You need more eyes on what you''re doing."

    "Perhaps, Aelia. But I''ve no way of doing that. So instead I''m going to go back to making simple cheap watches, that the everyday person can afford. I must be able to compete with what Warrington''s Watches are doing, and Blandmouth''s. Timepieces for the working people. Even if it crushes my soul."

    "What about your motionechular?"

    "I told you. I''ve packed it up."

    "But surely if you could get that commissioned... as you planned. Surely they''d grant you money to work on a larger version of it? Or maybe even buy the idea from you outright."

    Another sigh. "Aelia, I took it to the Hall of Engineering three weeks before you arrived."

    That was news to her.

    "They rejected it. Not practical enough. Not powerful enough. And they''re right."

    "But you... you kept working on it."

    "Yes. I did. I stupidly thought I could make it more efficient and more powerful, but Margo was right. The family was suffering because of my childhood obsession with clockworks. An obsession a grown man should have long ago shaken off. Well, it''s shaken off now."

    "What about Coric?" she said. "He can enchant it -- I heard him say. Give you that efficiency you''re after, and maybe next time you take it to the engineers they''ll--"

    "There won''t be a next time, Aelia. Every minute I waste on that thing is a minute closer to my own bankruptcy." He laughed. "So, moral bankruptcy it is instead."

    For a while they said nothing. Then she said, "I''m sorry that things are so tough. But I really do adore your designs. And I know children don''t have money to spend on such things, but if my father had ever bought me a clock like... like any of these, I would have treasured it forever."

    Samuel''s face eased a little. "You know," he said, "I always wanted a daughter, Aelia. The Stone God blessed me with two wonderful boys, but I would have liked a girl, too."

    "You didn''t miss out as much as you think, I suspect," Aelia said, grinning. "Me and my sister were a thorn in my mother''s side, always jealous of one another or fighting for her attention."

    He laughed. "But I can see that you have patience, Aelia. My sons have so very little of it. My eldest couldn''t wait for his chance to play soldier, sadly. And neither can my youngest. The slow intricacies of clockwork have no interest to them as they have no patience to appreciate it. And that''s fine, but... I think girls have more patience."

    Aelia wasn''t so sure. She had shown no patience wanting to get to Rhodes -- by the time she''d come of age she''d jumped on her first opportunity that had come her way -- the caravan. Same with wanting to get accepted by the Academy -- she''d charged in with no plan and no research. Her goals were different to those of Samuel''s sons, but she was sure she was at least as impatient as they were.

    "I really am sorry you caught me like this," he said. "Truly. My mood is pendulum, I''m told. Sometimes the happiest man in the world, sometimes the saddest. My wife knows it''s best to leave me to sweat it out, when I get like this. The moods don''t tend to last long and I can already feel it leaving, but I am sorry that you caught me in it." He let out a deep breath. "But come, enough about me, how have you been?"

    Aelia looked at the man and saw something of her own father in him. Giving everything up for his family. The pay for soldiers during the war with the Necromancer had been much more than her father could have made on the farm, and so he''d left, sending back most of his earnings. Hopefully supporting his family wouldn''t kill Samuel like it had her own father. In fact, Aelia was determined that it wouldn''t do so. She''d find a way to help him.

    "It''s been a bit of a tough day for me, too," she said. "Perhaps... a hug would help me?"

    "Oh, right," he said, getting up from his desk. "Yes, a hug. Right." Then, like Henry had earlier, the watchmaker wrapped his arms around her. She closed her eyes and let herself imagine it was her father''s arms and her father''s smell.

    "There, there," he muttered uncomfortably, much to Aelia''s amusment, "things will be fine."

    "Yes," she said. "They will."

    "Now, what''s say we rustle up a little snack?" he said. "I''ve not eaten at all today and I feel my own cogs crawling to a halt. I''m sure it''ll make us both feel better. Food always has a way of doing that, don''t you think? And then after, you can tell me all about your own troubles."

 Chapter 19: Leavers

    Aelia stood next to Coric on the western wall, leaning over the brick parapet to watch the army march. Coric had slipped a city guard a coin or two to allow them up here; the guard had growled but agreed to look the other way for an hour.

    Aelia thought she could still make out the Stone God in the distance, the golden glint of a hundred paladins behind him. Then, there were the knights, archers, a few dozen mages (three professors from the Academy and many seniors that Coric knew personally), plus four-thousand or so swordsmen (and swordswomen). Not to mention medics, cooks, and all the rest of the non-military persons that were needed.

    Most facinating of all to Aelia however (save for the God himself) were the machines that marched with them, powered by steam and smog and magic. They had looked to her like massive metal scorpions as they''d skittered past the wall: six silver legs pummeling into the earth, pumping out tiny black puff clouds with each step. Each had two further arms thrusting in and out of their fronts, and each of those ended in many metal spikes.

    Aelia wondered if Coric was glad he wasn''t yet a senior. There would have been a good chance he''d have been recruited and marching to war with the army, if he had been.

    "There''s not been a force like it assembled since the war with the Necromancer," Coric said. "And even then, the Stone God never marched." Coric laughed, cold and sharp. "Just imagine being the enemy watchman and seeing that storm approaching! I think you''d drop your sword and run, if you had any sense."

    Probably, Aelia thought. There was surely little in the world that could stand against such military might. But if that was the case, why was there an uneasy feeling in her gut that told her to wave goodbye to those leaving as if they''d never come home again? Perhaps it was what Henry had said: why would they start a war if they couldn''t win?

    Barracks and training grounds throughout Rhodes had been emptied, but the army wasn''t marching straight to battle. It would assemble in a border-village further west, where other soldiers from villages around the kingdom would join them. The army would swell by maybe another third, Coric had thought.

    "I fainted, yesterday," Aelia said rather suddenly, turning to the the mage-to-be. She hadn''t told anyone besides Henry, and for some reason the dream had been weighing as heavily on her as a real secret. And as much as she''d wanted to be truthful with Samuel, he''d had enough concerns of his own to harbour. She''d even written her mother a letter last night, looking for catharsis. But that had just ended in another well of lies: I''m doing great! Academy is fun. Lots of friends. God sure is a swell guy. Learning fast. Love you and sis!

    Coric turned to her, face creased in concern. "Fainted? Are you okay now? What brought it on?"

    She liked the urgency of his questions. "It was just after the Stone God made His pronouncment. The world became hot and blurred and I fell and... the world went away. Henry was with me and he took me to his cart and, yes, I''m okay now."

    "Good. I''m glad he took care of you." If Coric was at all jealous, he didn''t show it.

    "What do you know of visions?"

    Coric''s frown deepened. "Visions? As in what? A prophecy?"

    "No. Not as in I saw something that''s yet to come. Although, maybe I did -- I don''t know."

    "What do you mean, then?"

    It was just a dream and Aelia knew it. Yet holding onto it all by herself was as suffocating as being back in the water. "I was... drowning. I was trapped inside a jar or a flask -- glass walls were all around me." Just the thought made her stomach roil. "And the jar was filled to the brim with fluid that wasn''t water. I was naked, and I was breathing but I also wasn''t -- couldn''t be, not when I was beneath liquid." She said the last part to herself, more than to Coric.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    He considered, then spoke carefully as if trying to avoid a word that might cause her offence. "This was while you were unconcious? I don''t know if... It doesn''t sound exactly like a vision to me, so much as it does a... What I mean is..."

    It was just a dream -- that was what Coric wanted to say but he was too polite to upset her. Gods, she must have sounded stupid. Well, she''d come this far: "Someone was outside of the jar," she continued. "He called me by a differenet name. Told me that I needed to remember who I worked for. And all the while I was drowning, but not."

    Coris was silent for a time, as he considered. "Aelia, you said you were hot before you fainted. Perhaps your body was going through a trauma and your mind was tring to match it. A type of fever dream. Besides, drowning is a rather common dream to experience, I believe. It might mean nothing at all."

    She nodded, although she disagreed that she''d been drowning. She''d been breathing. "I suppose it doesn''t really matter, anyway. I just really wanted to tell someone. I can''t get it out of my head and thought maybe talking would exorcise it."

    Coric shot her a smile. "When we see my tutor, which at the rate you''re progressing will be the middle of next week, we can ask her about it. She knows much more about... well, about everything than I do."

    Sometimes, Aelia thought, Coric''s modesty could be infuriating. He was top of his class and far more intelligent than Aelia was, and yet he seemed to hate showing his knowledge. As if it was offensive to be smart. "Why are you even helping me, Coric?"

    "I told you."

    "Because you think I have potential."

    "Yes. Exactly. You''ll be a great asset to the Academy, someday. You''re far more powerful than I was before I arrived and began my own training."

    "But what does that matter to you? You''re not a teacher. Why do you care if I get accepted or not?"

    "Maybe I just like red hair and green eyes."

    "Funny."

    "Well, I do, as it happens. And I also do believe you have incredible potential." He sighed. "But... Okay. Fine. That day when you tried to apply. You were kind of funny to watch, so determined but so incredibly underprepared. You''d done no research at all on the Academy as an institution, but waltzed up all the same and demanded entry. Your confidence made me laugh."

    "Gee, thanks. So it was my misguided confidence, or in other words my stupidity, that won you over?"

    "Let''s stick with misguided confidence. Then, after, you looked so dejected when I found you outside of the academy. It was clear how much it meant to you. And, well, the truth is you reminded me of a girl I didn''t help when I should have done."

    Ah, finally, a crack letting a ray of truth run through. "What girl?"

    "A girl from my first year at the adademy. Unlike you she had gotten a referral -- although Gods know how -- and she got accepted thanks to it. But she struggled from day one with the coursework, with learning new spells... And so she asked me for help, as she thought it all came so easy to me." He paused. "Which it did. She told me she wanted it to come easily to her. Needed it to."

    "And you didn''t help her?"

    "No," said Coric, face gray. "I didn''t. I grew up competitive you see, Aelia. Three brothers will do that to you. The Academy was like anything else: a game to be won. Not a chance to improve myself, like it was for her. Like I think it is for you. And as it was a game, every other student could only be opposition playing against me."

    So he was trying to make up for being selfish. "How old were you?"

    "Fourteen. And so was Gilly."

    "Gilly was the girl you didn''t help?"

    He nodded.

    Aelia thought she could see the pain in his brown eyes. They''d darkened almost to black. Pain, or perhaps anger. "You were young. I think most of us were selfish when we were young. But we all grow and change."

    He didn''t reply.

    "What happened to Gilly?"

    "She flunked, of course," he said, sighing. "Would have had to repeat the year. But instead she left the Academy. And..." He looked at Aelia. "I''d really rather not talk about it any longer."

    She nodded, understanding Coric a little better, she thought. Aelia was his penance. His way of putting right a mistake he''d felt he''d made. Aelia wasn''t sure how she felt about being someone''s penance. Certainly a little annoyed Coric wasn''t helping her because he thought her talented. Or at least, that not being the only reason.

    Then again, what did the reason matter? All that mattered -- that had ever mattered to her -- was that she got into the Academy.

    She looked back up across the parapet. "Thank you for telling me." The army was gone now. Just a trail of distant dust. Motes dancing under the morning sun.

    "Come on," said Coric. "Let''s get started wth today''s training before that guard demands double pay."

    <hr>

 Chapter 20: Circles

    "Again," said Coric. "Concentrate this time, Aelia."

    She seethed, silently. As if she hadn''t been concentrating during every other attempt!

    "You need to see in your mind''s eye the fire leaving your hand. And then follow it until it reaches the branch."

    "Yes, yes, I get it," she said impatiently. "It''s what I''ve been trying to do each time, Coric. It just isn''t working." She was tempted to add something about it perhaps being the result of a poor teacher, but decided against it. She was just flustered. Instead, she took another pinch of moss and held it tight in her left hand. See the fire -- how easy Coric made it sound. But there was nothing to see, in reality.

    Aelia was attempting to cast the spell she''d used in the Academy, when she''d failed to alight a candle but managed to alight a ledger. The flame was meant to combust at a chosen location; it wasn''t a fireball that careened along a path that she could control. Fireballs, she had been told, were far more complicated to cast and manipulate. They sounded much easier to Aelia, right now.

    They were in a little meadow, late-blooming wildflowers surrounding Aelia in tangles of saffron and reds. Coric had jammed five sticks into the ground, about thirty paces from her. She''d managed to light two from a twenty pace gap, but perhaps that had been more luck than anything else as she was yet to light any of the sticks at this distance -- and she was already running low on her moss.

    Coric said (meaning to be encouraging but coming across as irritating), "You can do it, Aelia!"

    Okay, she told herself. If he really believes you can, maybe you can? Let''s make this the one. Deep breath. Cast.

    The spell rattled through her skull quickly now, less thinking of the order of the notes. The moss in her hand sizzled red, smoke drifting from between her knuckles.

    A burst of flame exploded like a firework about five paces before the nearest of the standing sticks; it floated for a moment before dying out, its embers drifting harmlessly to the damp grass.

    She sighed deeply. The distance was too great. At least for her, it was. Coric on the other hand, had demonstrated that it was possible from twice the distance she was attempting.

    "Take in the lay of the land," Coric instructed. "Then close your eyes and recreate it in your mind with a paintbrush. Imagine the trajectory of the fire, as if it was a fireball moving from your hand to the target."

    Aelia reluctantly shut her eyes. She began to paint the scene in her head: the flowers around her feet, puffs of cloud in the sky, Coric about halfway between her and the branches (themselves stuck in the ground in a pyramid of rows: three then two then one).

    She took another pinch of moss, held out her free hand to channel the spell, and began to cast.

    "That''s it. Good."

    She opened her eyes to see the explosion of ephemeral fire about a foot to the left of the first row of sticks.

    "Good!" said Coric. "You''re getting the distance. Easily, too. You just need a little more practise with directing the spell."

    Aelia didn''t feel as enthusiastic as Coric sounded. It''d taken three hours for her to get this near to the sticks. "Luck," she said. "Just luck. Again."

    "You''re too hard on yourself today," said Coric. "Lighten up. You''ve come such a long way in such a short space of time. That candle you couldn''t light? It was what, ten paces from you? You''d have no problem lighting it now."

    "Can we try something else?" Aelia asked. "A different spell or something? My head feels numb from the repetition."This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Coric ran a finger down his cheek. "You''re really getting the spell, Aelia. It might be best to keep at it."

    She frowned. "Can we at least have a break first?"

    "One minute. That''s all you get. Your time is precious and so is mine."

    Aelia didn''t feel her time would be wasted even if her and Coric stood here doing nothing. The autumn sun was pleasantly warm and turned the grass a butter-gold. Coric, with his black hair and his black cloak, looked conspicuously out of place in the field, as if he was a walking pit in the earth.

    "How about this," he said. "We try the same spell now, except with a branch only a few steps away from you--"

    "That sounds great," Aelia said, thankful. She could cope with a branch that near to her.

    "I hadn''t finished. We try that, but we try something new, too. We place the moss on the ground next to your foot and you try to channel it without holding it."

    "Are you serious?" she said. Her annoyance at her own failings had finely risen to the surface. "I can barely cast with the moss in my hand! I thought you were meant to be smart, Coric."

    "Yes, that''s it," he said. "Make yourself as fiery as the spell. That''ll help us."

    She surprised herself by laughing, then felt her cheeks redden.

    Coric retrieved one of the dry branches and brought it back to Aelia, twisting it into the ground in front of her. "Give me your moss," he said.

    Aelia took the threaded pouch from her pocket and handed it to him. In turn, Coric poured out most of the remaining moss onto a stone nearby.

    "Stand next to it," he said.

    She did so. "I really don''t think I''m ready for this."

    "It''s hardly a risk to try. You can''t burn yourself if you''ve no moss in your hand, and you can''t set me on fire by accident if you can''t use it."

    With a straight face she said, "I''ll never worry about accidentally setting you on fire, Coric."

    This time he laughed. "That''s very reassuring to know."

    She couldn''t keep a smirk from her lips for long. "Okay, so how does this work?"

    "Move your foot so that your boot is touching this stone. That''s it. Okay, now it''s just the same, in principle, as any other cast. Your body will try to draw mana from moss, and if you''re not holding any, you''ll try to find moss near to you."

    "I''ll try to find? How will I do that?"

    "Imagine a ghostly arm reaching out of you, searching for nearby moss that it can hold in its hand. It''ll be instinctual. Go on, have a go now. Set the stick alight."

    Aelia pointed her hand at the branch and imagined she was holding moss as she normally would in her other hand, going as far as to ball it up into a fist. Then, she cast the spell.

    But nothing happened, of course. Perhaps a slight tingle, but nothing more than that. About what she''d expected.

    "When you''re ready," Coric said.

    Aelia wasn''t sure if he was joking. "I just tried to cast."

    "Oh. Well try again. Concentrate harder. You know where the moss is, so it should be easy."

    Easy for you, maybe. Not easy for someone with no formal training.

    "Remember," he continued, "to imagine that extra arm reaching down to it and holding it. Close your eyes again -- see if that helps."

    She did try again, squeezing her eyes tight. Visualizing the moss scattered on the stone next to her. And again, a tingle. Perhaps slightly more of one than before.

    "Did... anything happen?" she asked, opening her eyes.

    "No," Coric said, examining the moss. He ran a finger over the moist green plant, feeling for a trace-heat, Aelia suspected. He looked disappointed and Aelia felt like she''d let him down. Coric expected great things from her, and in a way she expected greatness of herself, too. But not this fast. Not this great.

    "Sorry," she said.

    "No. Don''t be. It''s months too early for you to be doing this, really. Like I said, you''ve already come a long way. So please don''t be sorry. I just thought... Well, it doesn''t really matter. I think that''s probably enough for today, anyway."

    Coric walked away towards the remaining sticks that stuck into the ground.

    The pang of guilt inside Aelia became something close to a bubble of anger. She looked at the little pile of moss and said beaneath her breath, "You are to burn, understand me? I''m the mage and you''re the mana. So you are going to do what I want."

    She closed her eyes and imagined the fire burning from out her hand. Then, she recited the spell in her head. Nothing. Nothing except that slight vibration that ran down both her arms.

    She attempted to cast the spell again and again.

    And each time she did, the bubble of anger seemed to swell. Engulfing more of her body. More of her emotions.

    Something was changing. She could feel a heat swelling in her belly. Could imagine a hand reaching out of her.

    Only... the hand was withered. The skin wrinkled and thin over the bone.

    A deep fright ran through her and the shiver became something else.

    The bubble popped.

    A wave of something exploded from her and threw her to the ground.

    "Aelia!" said, Coric. She could hear him approach, but couldn''t see. She was surrounded in a thick cloud of choking smoke.

    "Aelia, are you okay?"

    There was a gust of wind, and she realized it must have been a spell cast by Coric.

    The smoke whirled away behind her.

    And there she was, left sitting in a circle of wilted wildflowers. For a few feet in every direction, all plants --and even the grass itself -- were gray and dead.

    Worst of all, the stick wedged into the ground in front of her was burning. Alight with a pitch-black flame.

    The moss hadn''t even been burned. It had been scattered from the stone over the dead flowers, but it was still unused.

    "Aelia?" said Coric. His face was pale. Scared, even. "What did you do?"

 Chapter 21: Academy Matters

    Although Rhodes was still bustling and still reeked of spit-roasted pig mingled with the sewage that ran not far beneath the streets,the city seemed almost empty to Aelia, as she rode with Coric over cobblestone, her arms lazily clasped around his waist.

    And although it was still ear-numbingon the streets from the roars of the shopkeeps and tavern owners trying to lure passerby''s into their establishments, the air seemed somewhat hushed.

    Peoplethroughout Rhodes had signed up to join the force heading west, wanting to do their part (and to receive their fair pay for doing so). The missing populace was only a drop in the pond of the city''s population, but it was still noticeable to Aelia.

    Riding through the streets today was like walking into a room and noticing that something was out of place, but not being able to put your finger on what had exactly had been moved and where it had been moved to. A shop closed here, perhaps, or maybe fewer patrons staggering outside a tavern, there.

    Or was that just how Aelia felt? A hazy anxiety that looked for something to blame. Something that wasn''t inside of her.

    Aelia hadn''t burned the wildflowers to death. They''d wilted, not cooked. But she''d killed them all the same. And it was in taking theirenergy -- their lives --that the black flame that had come into existence, steadily blazing on that branch, until Coric had finally put it out.

    Aelia had told him she didn''t know what had happened. She''d tried using the moss. Reached out for it with her spirit as her eyes were closed tight.

    But she''d found something else to grab hold of. To drain.

    The black fire wasn''t a spell Coric had ever seen before and it had made him more than uncomfortable.

    It hadn''t embued Aelia with a good feeling, either. Worry, mostly. Although a tiny part of her was impressed. Wow, Aelia. Look what you did! That''s something no one else here could do.

    Had that dark flame been within her all her life, waiting to come out? If so, how had it gotten inside of her?

    Coric had decided they needed to meet with Leena, his tutor, immediately.

    "Have you even told her about me?" she''d asked.

    "I was going to wait until I was certain you''d impress her. I mean, I''m fairly certain you will, but..."

    "Why would she see me today? A non-student she''s never heard of."

    "For me, I hope. Because I need advice, Aelia. And if not for me... When she hears what you did, I think she''ll need to see you. Because, well, no one can do what you did back there. No one in the Academy, at least. Not that I know of. You didn''t use moss at all."

    "Did I steal the life from those plants to cast that spell?"

    He sighed. "I don''t know, and that''s why we need to speak to Leena. I think, in a way, we all steal life to cast. All the Kingdoms that use magic. The Necromancer and his warlocks cast using ground-up bone. They take life and whittle it down to its most fundamental essence. And in a way, we take the life from moss. It''s not so different from flowers."

    Aelia agreed that flowers and moss were similar. But Gods, it was the fact she''d wilted them -- stolen their life -- instead of burning it for fuel, that bothered her.

    Theywere silent for most of the journey after that. Only occasionally did Coric try to break the tension."How''s Samuel''s reticular?" he''d asked at one point.

    "He''s given up on it," Aelia had replied, gloomily. She didn''t need reminding of that right now.

    "Oh. That''s a shame -- I thought it had some real potential."

    "I found out that he''salready had a proposal for it rejected by the Engineers. And... I don''t know." She''d almost told Coric about Samuel''s monetary issues, but decided that she didn''t have the stomach for gossiping. "He wants to concentrate onhis shop-- his watches."

    Coric had nodded. "Smart man. That''s what puts bread on the table."

    "Yes. But... it''s sad because that means putting a passion of his to bed. You know? If he''d just waited until you''d enchanted it..."

    Coric waited a while before he said, "I think it''s for the best, Aelia. The kingdom won''t have money to sink into improvements in its infrastructure if it''s heading into war. And besides, the enchantment I had in mind was... Well, I would have needed permission to perform it. And seeing as it''s not been done on clockwork before, as far as I know, I think it''s likely that even if I''d gotten permission, it wouldn''t have worked anyway."

    "Then why did you get his hopes up?" she snapped. "You encouraged his dream and made him believe it could be a reality."

    "I wasn''t thinking. Sorry. But it''s all worked out anyway."

    "You were showing off," she said bitterly. "Trying to impress him. Or me. Had you heard me come in?"

    Coric ignored her and said, "I think this is all for the best. He''s good at what he does, and that''s watches."

    That annoyed Aelia. Why was everyone giving up so easily? "Timepieces," she''d said.

    But the anger soon fell away the silent anxiety reclaimed her.

    Eventually, the Academy loomed into sight on the edge of the hill, high above the city. The sun had retreated sometime after Aelia had lit the dark flame and gray clouds now dusted theglass roof.

    They left Coric''s horse in along stable -- as long as a row of streets, Aelia thought. The stable had been mostly empty, as many of the regular horses were owned by seniors or teachers who had joined the march west.

    The building Coric took Aelia to next was almost as big as the Academy itself; a vast red-brick structure on the far side ofthe Academy, hidden behind a jutting peak. Coric told her it was where the professors resided, as well as some of the seniors who''d been granted residency.

    Coric took her up a flight of stairs -- a single flight, and yet when she''d looked out of a window on the corridor they''d come out on, she saw they were at least four stories high. Another day, she''d have been open-mouth amazed. But today, she barely mustered a smile.

    Coric knocked twice on a grainy wooden door at the end of the corridor, paused, then knocked once more.

    "Come in," came amelodicvoice.

    "Should I wait here?" Aelia asked.

    "I''m sure she''ll want to meet you sooner or later. Might as well be sooner."

    The room they walked into was a grand chamber with dark wood-paneled walls The ceiling was far higher than it had been in the corridor. A huge, gilded candelabra hung down half-way to the floor in the center of the room, with five thick white candles burning inside of it. Dozens of bookshelves were pressed against the walls in a disordered fashion, and Aelia half-thought they''d stumbled into the Academy library.

    But then she saw the professor.

    Leena''s hair was black and braided and as beautiful as her smile was wide. She wore a light-grey dress that floated down to her sandaled feet.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    "Good afternoon, Coric," she said, in a voice like honey. "How pleasant to find my favorite student drop in on me unexpected. And what''s this?" She looked at Aelia, her eyes running up and down her. "You''ve brought me something?"

    Coric bowed his head slightly. "This is my friend, Aelia. Aelia, this is Professor Amelton."

    "Leena," Leena said.

    "Pleased to meet you," Aelia replied. She had expected her nerves to increase upon meeting a professor of the Academy -- especially the professor she hoped would grant her a recommendation. But she didn''t feel nervous at all now. Perhaps it was the gentle yellowglow from the candles above, but Aelia thought a warmthradiated from the lady.

    Leena held out a hand and Aeila took it without thinking, holding for just a second, before Leena slipped it away.

    "You''re very unusual," she said, cocking her head. "Very."

    "I get that a lot," Aelia said, running an embarrassed hand through her hair. "My grandmother''s hair was just as bright. Until she woke up one morning and it had all turned white."

    "No," Leena said, with a chuckle. "Or not just your beautiful locks, Aelia."

    Aelia wanted to say, not as beautiful as your hair, but managed to stop herself. The lady, her voice, everything about her was a warmth that wrapped around you and made you shiver with hot content.

    Leena held her tongue between her teeth, then retracted it saying, "You taste different to my other students. That''s what I mean."

    That''s what she meant? That Aelia tasted strange. It sounded rather bizarre and vague to Aelia. "Is... is that a good thing?"

    "Hmm, I don''t know, yet. Different flavors when cooking can be good, at least compared to bland. But too many flavors, or one flavor overwhelmingly strong, and..." She raised her eyebrows. "Well, that can ruin a good dish, can''t it?" Then Leena turned to Coric. "I am grateful you did, but why, dear Master Coric, have you brought this pretty young lady to me?"

    Aelia heard Coric swallow nervously. "I was always going to bring her to you, ma''am."

    Leena frowned, but only for a second. Then she looked again at Aelia. "Ah. You''re gifted, that is why. But you''re not yet a student, and Coric, as sweet as he is, thinks that he can help you get into the Academy by bringing you to me."

    "All my life," Aelia said, "I''ve dreamed of studying magic here. I have an old book from my grandfather that I''ve read a million times, even though it only contains threespells, and I''ve learned how to cast them all by myself. I collected my own moss and--"

    Leena held a hand up to silence her. "Coric said he was always going to bring you here, to me. Then what he is also saying is there''s a second reason for bringing you here today."

    Aelia noted how perceptive Leena was and decided she needed to be careful with her wording, let alone her words.

    "I''ve been training her," said Coric.

    Leena''s lips turned to a straight hard line. "You know it''s against the rules for a student to teach outside of the Academy."

    "She''s incredible," Coric said. "Much more adept than I was when I started learning. And she figures things out a whole lot faster, too."

    Aelia blushed, thrilled to hear Coric say those things to someone other than her -- it somehow made them more real. But she could tell Coirc was nervous, the way his fingers were entwined in a fidgeting ball.

    "She needs proper training and only the Academy can give her that. She needs a referral."

    Leena stroked her chin. "That missed the question I asked. Why have you brought her to me today, Coric?" Her voice was a little colder than the warmth that she hadbreathedover Aelia.

    Coric struggled to find the words, his mouth open but empty.

    "We were practicing today," Aelia said, stepping in. "In the fields north of the wall where I live. And I cast a spell that I''ve not yet learned and that Coric hadn''t heard of before."

    Leena''s eyebrows raised again. "Oh? And what did the spell do?"

    "It lit a black fire that burned on a tree branch."

    She saw in her peripherals Coric grimacing.

    "And... How did you cast this black flame? Tell Leena all about it."

    Aelia shrugged. "We were working on casting fire without me holding any moss -- casting remotely. Something I''ve not yet managed to do before. So, I closed my eyes, as Coric suggested, and imagined reaching out of my body and finding the moss lying next to me. Then, when I opened my eyes, the moss was still there, but the ground around me had died."

    "That... is very peculiar," Leena said. The warmth in the room had almost turned to an ice-cold chill.

    Coric took one of the dead, wilted flowers from out of his pocket. It was almost black now, and its petals had all fallen away. "The flowers in a wide circle around her turned to this," Coric said.

    Leena took the flower. A little of the stem crumbledas if it was ancient androtten. Leena looked from the flower to Aelia, giving her only the ghost of a smile. Then she said, "Coric and I must have a word alone, Aelia." She nodded at Coric, "Come, we''ll talk in the parlor. Aelia, wait for us here. Don''t leave yet, please."

    Aelia watched as the two walked across the room, then turned into another door at the end. Aelia realized she''d been holding her breath, although she wasn''t sure for how long for. She let it all out in one big huff.

    She could hear their muffled voices, Coric''s a little louder, from the room beyond. But she couldn''t make out their words.

    This wasn''t good. Leena had tried to disguise it, but Aela had seen that the professor had been worried by the flower. Maybe even by themention of the black flame. Aelia put her head in her hands and groaned. Her dream of studying at the Academy seemed to be both one step closer (here she was, speaking to an actual professor!) andat the same time,tens steps further away.

    Minutespassed and the muffled voices continued. She felt nauseous with anxiety, wondering what decision was being made that would decide how her life went from this moment. What details was Coricgiving to Leena?

    Distract yourself, girl, she said. Come on. There are books everywhere. Everywhere! You always wanted to see what a mage''s library was like. Well, now''s your chance.

    She walked up the nearest shelf and ran a finger over a dozen tattered spines of thick leather volumes. History books, mainly. She recognized words in a few of the titles as towns and regions within the Stone God''s kingdom. And one she thought she''d heard of before -- but it was a city within the Augmented Kingdom. Well, Leena''s collection was vast. Perhaps it wasn''t surprising that it covered more than just their own kingdom''s history.

    She moved on to the next bookshelf. A different typeof history book filled it, all related to the history of magic within the Kingdom of the Stone God. On any other day, this shelf would have bewitched her. She''d have taken the first book from off the top row and then sat cross-legged on the floor savoring every page, before moving ontothe next book. But her anxiety kept her moving to another shelf.

    The prime subject matter of the books on this shelf were glyphs and enchantments. Even through her thick-fog of anxiety, her curiosity piqued beyond reason. She picked a book at random and began flicking through the pages. They were filled with sepia faded diagrams of various glyphs, as if the book had been left out in the sun for too long. But it was just their age, most likely. They were all ancient and smelled of vanilla; Aelia buried her head into the open pages and took a deep breath.

    Better than any food.

    She noticed as she drew her face away, the title of the chapter that the book was open on: Steam Extensionary Markings.

    A thought ran through her head. She thumbed over a few more pages until she found an enchantment that had a description she thought might possibly work. One that relied on both a glyph and moss: Aeternum ContinuousMotion.

    She shouldn''t...

    Really shouldn''t...

    Shouldn''t do anything to jeopardize her entrance to the Academy.

    And this would most certainlyjeopardize it if she was caught.

    But... What if Leena didn''t sponsor Aelia''s entry? Then this might be her only chance to have access to the spell.

    Leena and Coric were still talking. She heard their rumbled chatter through the wall.

    Her hands trembled as she carefully tore the page.

    It was the right thing to do. Samuel deserved a little help.

    She tucked the folded paper inside her jacket pocket then returned the book back onto the shelf.

    It was a few minutes later that Coric, his head hanging down like a dog told off, reentered with Leena by his side.

    Leena walked up to Aelia and took her hands in her own, then stared into her eyes.

    "Is everything okay?" Aelia asked.

    Leena''s dark eyes seemed to be searching Aelia.

    The ripped out page of the book weighed very heavy in her pocket.

    "Aelia," Leena said, eventually. "I can''t recommend you to the Academy, not at this time. And I can''t let Coric continue to train you, either. I''m sorry."

    "But--

    "Right now, I don''t know exactly how you did what you did. There is no one born into this kingdom that I know of that can cast magic without moss. It''s more like magic far beyond our kingdom. Coric thought more like the Necromancer''s, but he is wrong."

    "Necromancer!" She shot Coric a glare. "I was born here. You can write to Mother. I''m a child of the Stone Kingdom, through and through. Gods, I don''t know how I cast the black flame, but I do know--"

    "He wasn''t suggesting you''re from another kingdom, and neither am I. I don''t believe you are. But, at the same time, I need to do a little research, Aelia. I need to converse with seniorcolleagues before we talk again." Leena lowered her voice, but said forcefully, "In the meantime, do not tell a soul more aboutthe black fire, Aelia. Others, I think, would be less trusting than I am. Less charitable."

    Aelia''s heart had split in two and she felt fully numb. She hadn''t been accepted. Wasn''t ever going to be. And Coric would stop training her now. She saw her future stretched out gray and empty: every night driving the corpse wagon to the Great Morgue, tipping bodies out into pits.

    "You''re different, Aelia. But until I''m sure in what way that you''re different, you can''t practice magic. You took the life from flowers and used that, it seems, to cast a spell. Imagine there had been a person -- Coric -- standing next to you, instead of the flowers. Imagine you had taken his essence."

    The thought had crossed her mind on the journey here, but she''d snuffed it out like a candle before bed. Now, it filled her vision. Coric lying black and wilted by her feet. The grim fire raging around them.

    "It doesn''t mean you can''t study here," Leena said, her voice a little warmer. "It just means you can''t study here right now. Do you understand?"

    "Yes," she said.

    And she did understand.

    But all the same, she''d be damned if she''d giveup magic completely. In fact, she knew exactly what her next spell would be.