Enlightened, PG-13 (Chapter Seven Up!)

[NoirGrimoir]

Title: Enlightened
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Genre: Romance, Angst, Humor
Series: None
Summery: After returning from Lightsbridge, determined to start her own business working as an ordinary mage, romance is the last thing on Tris's mind. Unfortunately, her siblings don't seem to understand that.
Author's Notes: This story takes place four years after The Will of the Empress and Melting Stones. To give you some perspective, our mage quartet are now twenty-two. Evvy is eighteen and Glaki is about twelve or thereabouts. Any other information needed will be addressed in the story. It is Tris/OC(s? You'll have to see), but there's also a side of Briar/Evvy, Daja/OC as well as appearances by Sandry, Glaki, Niko, Rosethorn, Lark and others. Also, the post of the first chapter was getting really long, so I cut it in half. I'll post the other half in a day or two.


Part One of Chapter One

The short and somewhat plump Trisana Chandler stepped out of Number 6 Cheeseman Street into the morning chill, feeling both nervous and determined. Her sharp, stormy blue-gray eyes gazed out from behind brass spectacles, analyzing the busy morning street with her long, straight nose high in the air, giving the impression that the young woman was ready to plow through any obstacle that might present itself. Winds carrying morning conversations from the market and colorful visions of fisherman at the harbor bombarded her but she ignored them as best she could and Tris was well-practiced. She hadn't any worries any longer that she would go mad or suffer from unrelenting headaches because of that particular power—she had a pair of Living Metal spectacles made by her Smith-mage sister, Daja, that would block the magic out if the images ever became too much for her to bear.

Standing for a moment in the bright spring sunlight wearing a fawn-brown dress over a white shift (both made by her own thread-mage foster-sister Sandry) and sensible shoes, she wore her academic mage-kit at her side in a pack. Her ambient mage Lady Kit of Hannalof was her coppery-red hair, done up in intricate braids coiled and pinned to her scalp in magical patterns to keep the forces stored within them under control. Fully prepared for a magical working, Tris's stature implied that she had readied herself for anything the world could throw at her this morning and thus she had every intention of encountering life head on.

At the age of twenty-two, she had finally returned to her shared home with her siblings after a four year absence attending Lightsbridge University and earning a license to practice ordinary mage, but after only a week of enjoying the love of her family and being fussed over, she was already sick of it and ready for work. Her whole reason for going to Lightsbridge to begin with (aside from learning, which was one of her favorite activities) was to finally be able to make a proper living and not be a burden to her siblings. She knew Sandry, Daja and Briar wouldn't have seen it that way at all, but she couldn't help feeling that way, and now she would never have to. Tris was ready to support herself; to make her own way in the world independently.

Just yesterday she had picked up the new sign for the house from a carpenter down the street. She'd hung it herself in the same place as the previous one that afternoon with a sense of pride and accomplishment. It advertised not just her new business, but her sister Daja's forge and her brother Briar's shakkans and services as a green mage. The former sign was years old and hadn't listed Briar at all, so the new sign was much needed and very well received by her family. Briar had been holding off on ordering a new one for years, mostly because he kept forgetting, despite the fact that new, interested buyers sometimes had a difficult time finding the place, even when he'd given them the address and instructions to look for the big garden and not to be confused by the sign for Kisubo Smithy out front.

Also yesterday, she had went to a printing house and ordered a stack of pamphlets, advertising her skills and services, as well as her various qualifications and accomplishments, to be printed up so that she could distribute them this morning to the businesses in the area and begin bringing in revenue. The owner of the printing house had been on site and offered her a job immediately, spelling the building and printing presses against the works, including break-in, fire, injury or breakage and dust. If she was the sort of person that became giddy she might have been at that moment, but instead she was very pleased and relieved that her business had started off so well. Being an entrepreneur had it's risks and as a merchant's daughter, Tris was well aware of all of them, but she was very glad that her risks seemed to be paying off so very soon.

"Hey, Coppercurls! What are you doing out-and-about so early?" a familiar voice called to her from the garden on her right.

Her much-loved foster brother Briar was sitting on a bench in a shirt of undyed cotton and dark-green trousers that he had probably just thrown on a few minutes ago, drinking some of his special morning tea to help wake him up. Tris suspected his black hair would be a mess if he didn't keep it very short for precisely that reason. Despite the morning-drowsiness apparent in his droopy eye-lids, his grey-green eyes twinkled with mischief and his smile was warm.

"Please, Briar. Some people like to get a head start on their day, not trundle around in bed all the morning," Tris said with false haughtiness, adjusting her spectacles on her nose superiorly as she looked at her foster brother. She was mostly teasing, despite the fact that she probably looked perfectly serious, but she knew Briar was used to her dry sense of humor and wouldn't take offense when it wasn't meant. Sometimes he didn't even take offense when it was meant which was sometimes a relief and other times just vexing.

Besides, Tris thought, We both know he is up at dawn most mornings, weeding his garden and pruning his shakkans. And I wouldn't be surprised if Daja was at her forge right now and Sandry running around the Duke's citadel helping her uncle. All four of us tend to make early days of it. There never seems to be enough time to do everything one wants to do as it is.

"Hey, I'm awake, aren't I?" Briar said defensively. "And I'm up early just as often as anyone is, I just need a little help now and then." The green mage toasted her with his cup of tea. "So what would you be doing this fine morning, Mistress Lightsbridge-graduate?" he asked her cheekily, referring to her newly acquired status.

"I'm for the printing house to spell their warehouse and pick up my pamphlets," she informed him. "And then I'm off to Spicer Street and Cobbler's and Potter's Lane and then the docks, handing them out to all the shops and guildhalls. I want as many people aware of my new business as possible."

Briar chuckled. "It'd be hard for them not to be. You know most of the crafts people and shop keepers in Summersea and they know you, since you hang around watching them work and asking questions all the time. They were asking about when you'd come back the whole while you've been gone." Briar adjusted his expression and posture to what Tris recognized as an impression of one of her more colorful acquaintances on Potter's Lane. 'Where's the mage-girl with the glass dragon?'" Briar said, making his voice rough and deep. "When's she gettin' back? Oh, she's gettin' licensed, ye say? Well I wunner if she ken do sumfin' about the rats we been getting' in 'ere. The blighters be gettin' in mah storage shed an' eatin' all mah grain fer the cart horses!'"

Tris frowned at her brother and waved an unamused hand at him in a 'brushing off' gesture. "Master Rooklin did not say that."

"He did, too. May the gods strike me if I lie," Briar said with genial earnestness.

"Well, then perhaps I'll have another job by tonight," she said mostly to appease him. She wasn't at all as confident as Briar that these business owners and craftspeople even remembered her as soon as she was out of their hair. Doubtless they were much too busy to care about why a chubby red-head had stopped coming around and bothering them with questions about throwing a pot on a wheel or which kinds of fish were in season.

"If that's all you have to say, then I'm off," Tris said. "I'm leaving Chime here this morning so be wary of your mage Lady Kit of Hannalof. You know how she likes to get into things she's not supposed to."

Briar winced. He remembered the last time they left Chime unattended for a few minutes. Shredded herbs all over the ground and an unrepentant little glass dragon staring up innocently at the three housemates, as if wondering if they wanted to join the fun as well, was the result.

About to set off down the street, Briar called after her, "Hey, Tris, would you pick up a few things for me while you're out, if you have the time?"

A line appeared between her brows and Tris sighed exasperatedly. "Oh, I suppose so," she agreed grudgingly. Briar dictated a small list and she committed the items to memory before finally leaving the house and setting off to the printers.

Briar watched his sister as she disappeared around a street corner and confirmed that his magical tie with her was stretching as she moved farther away, before he jumped up from the bench to dash into the house, calling, "Daja! She's gone! And Sandry, you and your men-at-arms can stop hiding in the stable now so her breezes don't brush by you. Let's hurry up and get to scheming before Tris takes a look and realizes you aren't in the citadel like you're supposed to be. I gave her some extra things to do, but you know how she is—our Tris doesn't dilly-dally."

---

The printing press warehouse where Tris's pamphlets had been ordered and produced was a large wooden building with three floors. When Tris had gone there yesterday to place an order, it had been noisy and buzzing with activity, filled with apprentices arranging the upraised metal blocks of letters called 'sorts' into mirrored words and sentences, one at a time, while others melted down chipped blocks and cast new ones out of molten lead. Masters and journeymen worked in assembly-line fashion, applying ink to the metal surfaces of the finished page blocks with ink-bowls, arranging paper on the side called the frisket and pulling on the levers with a loud thunk to stamp the ink on the page, leaving beautiful, crisp, clear letters and then doing it all over again at speeds that made Tris's head spin.

But now the warehouse was quiet as Tris arrived at her destination in front of the building with her academic mage Lady Kit of Hannalof in hand, ready for work. Stepping inside the building's main entrance, she found the proprietor at a desk, going through what were probably accounts. He was a tall, lean man past middle-age, with short dirty-blond hair and an impeccable mustache streaked with white who went by the name of Printmaster Ockley.

"Good morning, Master Ockley," Tris told the man in what she hoped was a calm, professional manner. She didn't always make good impressions on people, mostly because she didn't particularly like most people, but she had been making a habit of at least trying to control the tone of her voice so she didn't sound so very curt all of the time. She didn't want to scare off her first customer, and besides, she had liked the man yesterday. He seemed sober, intelligent, and efficient, and he'd answered all her questions about printing, pleased that someone was taking an interest in his craft.

She had warned the man yesterday when he had inquired about her business and they had set about working out a time and payment, that no one was to come in or out of the building while she set the spells and that, as a matter of fact, it was best if no one was inside at all at the time. This being so, he'd wisely decided that he'd give his people the morning off so she could perform her work.

"Ah, Mistress Chandler," he said around his large mustache in a voice like a puffing chimney. He immediately set aside his paperwork and stepped forward to shake her hand in greeting. "Glad you could come out so early, I appre—"

Just then a lean blond streak came flying in the door to huff and puff just inside the warehouse. "I'm here! I'm here!" the young woman said, gasping for breath with her hands on her knees as if she'd ran halfway across the city. "Reisha, please don't tell Printmaster Ockley I was late or Master Lampblack will—oh." The woman had finally looked up and realized that Tris, and the Printmaster Ockley she was so wary of, were staring at her, neither looking particularly happy at her sudden interruption.

"Cow dung," she cursed to herself miserably, realizing she was in trouble.

"Indeed," the Printmaster said, his mustached face set in a frown as he crossed his arms and gazed down at her unhappily.

Getting a good look at the girl, Tris saw that she was a few years younger than herself and her siblings, probably seventeen or so years old. Her hair was a messy dark-blond that fell just passed her shoulders in fly-away wisps and her face was moon-round with a wide mouth and big, light-blue eyes. Her skin was pale and freckled, and her five-seven frame was narrow-shouldered, small-chested, lean and gawky. She also blazed the silver of a mage in Tris's sight.

Oh dear, Tris thought to herself miserably, is this another student I'm going to have to deal with? I've found that I rather like teaching, but I haven't the time right now, I've only just started my business! Well, at least Briar, Daja and Sandry are here to help me this time, if that is the case. And Winding Circle isn't but a few hours ride away. Rosethorn and Lark only have two student's at the moment, I know—Glaki and a boy who I don't know terribly well— so they would probably be able to help me if I truly needed it.

"Calyra?" Ockley spoke, his tone displeased beyond measure.

The girl, Calyra, winced. "Yes?" she asked nervously.

"You remember the note your mage-teacher sent with you the last time I told him you'd been late?" Tris nearly fell over in relief. The girl already had a teacher; that was a load off her mind. Briefly, Tris wondered what the girl's magic was and why she was working in a printing house while being taught magic at the same time by a separate person. Granted there were any number of legitimate situations that could result in this arrangement but Tris, being a naturally curious sort of person, couldn't help but wonder none the less.

Calyra was clearly thinking something much different than Tris upon hearing Master Ockley's words. She hung her head in shame and recited, " 'It seems my student has developed quite a habit of tardiness. If you should find this persists, feel free to torture her inventively.'" Sighing, she mumbled, "And then the 'torture' is crossed-out and there's a caret inserting the word 'discipline' above it."

Master Ockley's mouth quirked a bit at the edges, then gave a sharp nod. "And so I will. This afternoon you're to demonstrate to the apprentices how to change the leather covers of the ink-bowls and then you're assigned to testing them on terminology of the printing-press parts. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Printmaster Ockley," she said in miserable resignation. Tris really didn't know what changing the covers of ink-bowls entailed, but she did know that teaching apprentices was generally considered the least worthwhile and most tedious of activities for journeyman and masters of crafts alike. Even for Tris, who didn't mind teaching so much, she knew that some children and many older people could really make it a pain. Case-in-point, the first week or so of teaching Keth.

The Printmaster made a grunt of satisfaction at Calyra's chastened state before making a 'shoo' gesture with his hands. "Right, now scat while Mistress Chandler spells the building and come back this afternoon."

"Wait, what?" the girl says upon looking up, her big eyes widened in confusion. Taking in her surroundings as if for the first time, her eyes fell on Tris, (who was trying very hard to keep a blank, professionally aloof expression on her face), and the empty warehouse behind her. "Hey, there's no one here! But you said I was late, how can I be late if no one else is here?" she complained to the Printmaster.

"No, you said you were late," Ockley corrected her, "And you would have been, too, if not for the fact that the Printing House is closed this morning so that this mage can do her work without anyone being underfoot."

"But then why am I being punished?" she asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"Because obviously you either weren't paying attention yesterday when I made the announcement, or you left early without permission, not to mention that you were late yesterday as well and tried to hide it," the man explained unsympathetically.

Even though it wasn't any of her business, Tris nodded from next to him in agreement. Punctuality was very important, as was paying attention to one's teachers and superiors. In some matters it could be life-or-death, and all mages needed to learn the lesson well. Tris in fact had learned the hard way by trying to stop the tides as a student even after Niko had expressly told her not to. She was aware to this day that her disobedience could have lead to her death. Teachers tended to give good information if you paid attention to them.

Calyra blushed with embarrassment and coughed into her hand.

"Now let's leave Mistress Chandler to her work," Ockley said and started to step out before Calyra spoke up again eagerly.

"Oh! Can I watch?" she said turning to Tris, nearly startling the weather-witch that she was being addressed. "Please? I won't be any trouble, I swear!"

Printmaster Ockley frowned. "Mistress Chandler doesn't need you pestering her," he said.

"I won't pester, I'll just watch!" Calyra pleaded. "I'll be quiet as a mouse. She won't even know I'm here!"

Tris frowned. While it was true that people being in or around the building didn't matter to the process of casting the spells she would be laying, crossing the threshold between the inside and outside of the building could really make it go hay-wire or not cast properly, as well as be distracting for the mage. One person who stayed inside with her probably wouldn't be a big problem, but Tris was still hesitant.

"Unless you can see magic, there won't be much to watch," she warned the younger girl. "Even then, it isn't something altogether spectacular." Not like throwing lightning around or calling rain, Tris thought wryly.

"I know, but I just want to watch anyway. Please? I will be perfectly still and quiet," she said.

"I suppose so, if Master Ockley agrees, but don't interrupt me," Tris conceded to the young woman, wearing her most stern expression. Ockley was as dubious as Tris was on the matter, but the hopeful look the girl had in her eyes must have been too much for the Printmaster, and he said it was alright and gave Tris express instructions that if Calyra did anything to hinder her, the mage was to send the girl directly to him in the office.

A few minutes later found Tris walking the perimeter of the building with Calyra following along behind her, as quiet as she'd promised to be, while Tris breathed in meditation rhythm, whispering words and directing her power into the magical signs she was drawing with a glass wand from her mage Lady Kit of Hannalof. The symbols hung in the air, glittering in her sight. After establishing the boundaries of her spell, she went back inside and lit a wand of incense and burned special herbs as she wrote more signs in the smoke, chaining the gestures into a spell that would dissuade burglars or vandalism. She did the same on all the floors, and then sealed the spell before beginning back on first floor with the next spell, this one against injury and accidents.

She drew from her mage Lady Kit of Hannalof a polished pink Rhodonite sphere that glowed in her sight, it's ability to grant assuredness and efficiency enhanced by the spell laid on it for Tris by her brother's former-student Evvy, an ambient stone mage who was training to be a Living Circle Earth Dedicate. She wrote more symbols in the air with the stone in her hand and over all of the printing-presses, taking out more stones to repeat the process and infuse more qualities into the spell. Tris only vaguely noticed, so concentrated as she was on her work, that the girl who had pleaded so enthusiastically to watch was sitting cross-legged on the ground with her eyes closed all the while.

Sealing that spell after going all through the building with it, she took out a pre-made piece of special paper with her spell already written on it, and burned it, letting the ashes scatter in the air. That would ward against dust and any contaminants in the air. Finally she drew a flask of water and herbs that she had also prepared in advance and dipped her finger in it, using that to write symbols on the walls, protecting against fire consuming the building. When she was finished, she spoke the words for sealing and then let out a breath of accomplishment at her work. The whole building blazed in her magic sight.

From the floor, Calyra groaned as she stood up, stretching out legs which were no doubt stiff from being in the same position for so long.

"I told you it would be boring," Tris said in a monotone voice, pushing up her spectacles with one finger.

"I didn't feel anything," she said disappointedly. "My teacher's magic and mine overlap some, so I can feel with my magic how he does some things. He told me that if I could feel how a mage does a magic working, than there was a pretty good chance that I had the ability to do it, too. But I couldn't tell how you were doing anything, just sort of feel a buzz from all the power, so I guess I can't do this sort of thing."

"Well, that is true of ambient magic," Tris said, quickly falling into 'teacher mode.' "But if you have any kind of magic, than you can perform academic magics to some extent. The difference is that ambient mages work through things that are found in everyday life, using crafts like carpentry and plants and metal-working to shape their spells and effects. Academic magic on the other hand relies on symbols, gestures and tools to direct the spell. You're an ambient mage, I take it?" Tris asked the girl.

Ambient magic was much rarer than academic magic, so ordinarily she wouldn't assume a person had the one instead of the other, but an academic mage would already have known that information. Besides, they were standing in a printing house—that was to say, a building for the purpose of performing a craft—what were the odds she wasn't a mage whose power had something to do with printing?

"Yes, I am," she nodded in fascination and surprise. "With things that have to do with paper and paper-like materials that you print or write on. Like paper-making and printing, and folding-craft."

Hmm, that's one I haven't come across very often, Tris thought. In fact, the closest she thought she'd come was an incredibly old man, Master Yosef Oakgall, the Chief Librarian at Lightsbridge University, a man who was considered a Great Mage and who's magic allowed him to access the information stored in the books in the library instantly using his mind, as well as call books to his hands from high shelves, (a very simple, but handy skill, especially since the man's bones had seemed as brittle as chalk, he was that ancient). The man was so very busy, as well as gruff, grouchy and difficult to approach, that she hadn't been able to ask much about what sort of things ambient book magic could do, if indeed that was what it was.

A paper mage was something she hadn't any experience with, though her siblings might, but probably they were fairly rare. Among ambient mages, some magics were more common than others. Tris's lightning magic for instance was extremely rare, while Evvy's stone magic was the most common form of ambient magic there was. Sandry's thread magic was somewhat common, Daja's smith magery somewhat rare and Briar's plant magic about in the middle.

Of course, that was just kinds of magic. Strength in that magic, no matter what kind it was, was another matter altogether and Tris and her foster siblings were extremely powerful, making them the rarest of the rare, as far as most people were concerned. Really, only their teachers rivaled them in their respective fields, and as far as Tris knew, she was one of the only lightning mages on the continent alongside her former-student Keth, in Namorn.

Tris pushed up her spectacles. "Well then, provided you have the power, than you could do what I did, after training. For the most part it isn't a matter of feeling how to do it, since the signs are directing the energy and not the mage herself. I went to Lightbridge for years to learn how to do this sort of thing." What she didn't say was that it had taken her only four years, which was practically unheard of, even for someone who had gotten to skip a great deal of the lower division classes because much of her former teaching carried over.

"Hmm, I see," Calyra said, nodding in thought. After a moment, she smiled. "It's nice actually having someone tell me things straight off again. My teacher used to do that, but now when I ask questions he asks me weird questions back or talks in parables. He says they are exercises in critical-thinking, to help me figure out the answer myself, but I tend to think he's just messing with my head." She made an irritated face.

Tris smirked at the complaint. There were a few times in the past when Niko had made her think like that. Mostly he was straight forward, but occasionally he could dance around saying something so frustratingly that it made her want to pull out her red hair by the roots.

Well, as curious as Tris was on the subject of what a paper mage might be able to do, she still had many things to get done today. If she ever wanted to question the girl, Tris knew where to find her.

Leaving the printing house, she informed Master Ockley that she was finished placing the spells on the building. He thanked her profusely, telling her she had done the job twice as fast as the mage he'd hired the previous time. He promised to recommend her to all of his acquaintances and then he presented her with a bag of coins and the pamphlets she'd ordered in a large stack tied with twine, every page printed with crisp, perfect black lettering on the thick, durable pale blue paper she'd chosen.

She said her goodbyes and thank-yous to the man and the mage-student as the workers started arriving for the afternoon shift. Ravenous and proud, Tris decided that she had definitely earned her midday meal today.

---

"They did what?" Sandry and Briar shouted in outrage simultaneously.

The two siblings were in the common room with their foster sister Daja. Sitting in chairs around the breakfast table facing the garden window, all three were on their third cup of Briar's tea blend, brewed by Daja when she'd seen they were about to run out of the first batch. Her men-at-arms talking and lounging outside with Chime to entertain them, Sandry sat on Daja's right in her noble finery—a simple but stylish riding dress of a wine-burgundy with mauve embroidery on the neckline and cuffs, her brown hair pined up in a deceptively complicated bun and covered by a matching veil. Her ears were adorned by understated garnet drops.

Daja herself had her black braids tied back and had on a plain, utilitarian brown pair of trousers and a shirt of undyed cloth with dark brown leather vest, as she planned on working out in the forge later, but right now she had more important things to do.

The smith mage had just finished recounting the tale Tris had told her four years ago in Namorn after Rizu had declined to come with her lover to Emelan. Daja had been in a state, crying and angry with the world for taking away the first true romance of her life, snapping at everyone and being a right bitch. Tris had started a fight with her after the crazy-man they'd been looking after, Zhegorz, had taken something Daja had said in grief personally and sequestered himself in a closet. They'd screamed at each other and thrown insults until Tris had finally realized what the real issue was—that Daja had been left by someone she'd loved. Even if it had only been for just a summer, it had hurt and Tris had seen that. She'd been uncharacteristically sympathetic but also put the matter in perspective for Daja. After that, she'd told her foster sister her own problems finding love; about being cruelly teased and having honey thrown at her when it had been found out that she'd liked a boy.

Daja had remembered Tris's story of shame and embarrassment and kept it locked in her memory, untold, as she thought her friend and sister would have preferred. She hadn't divulged the tale to either of their other foster-siblings and Tris had seemed to appreciate that.

It was only in the last few years that Daja had begun to think that hiding Tris's story might be a mistake.

Yes, Tris could be short-tempered, exacting, harsh, suspicious and had a tendency to speak her mind in situations where diplomacy might get her farther, but she was also caring, patient with children and animals, honest, responsible, loyal and fiercely intelligent. Sure, you had to scratch away the patina surface a bit, but underneath that was a truly wonderful person, like bright, shiny copper. Daja couldn't see how other people seemed to miss that. Outside of romance, Daja liked men just fine. Some of her favorite people, her teachers Niko and Frostpine, as well as Duke Vedris and her brother Briar, were male. She knew there were good ones out there, so how come none of them ever seemed to find Tris? It just didn't seem fair.

And Tris actually seemed to be resigned to that! She just accepted that she would be alone for the rest of her life. That there just wasn't anyone out there who could like her outside of her immediate friends. The girl had been in Lightsbridge for four years and that whole time she had buried herself in her studies without even looking at a male. She'd had opportunities to at least consider a few boys, but she hadn't even tried. Tris was giving up before she even started, and at this rate Daja was afraid she'd give up on love all together. The smith mage had found love once, for a summer, and now she'd found love again in a wonderful woman, Yosleen Morrowell—Ah, Yosleen! she mused, then shook off the drunken affects that thinking of her lover brought on. But anyway, if Daja could find love, then surely it was possible for everyone.

Briar and Sandry hadn't been quite so lucky, but they'd had friends and short-term lovers. They'd had fun. They'd experienced someone desire them and them alone at least for a night. And they were still looking, if only casually, content to wait until the right person showed up. Tris had found no one to hold her even for the short term; she hadn't even looked. And now that she was back from Lightsbridge she still hadn't any interest in finding romance. She'd said herself that it was a foregone conclusion that she would fail, one night when Daja had mentioned the possibility. The Trader-girl couldn't stand her saati being alone anymore, feeling unlovable. Something had to be done.

And so, she'd recruited Sandry and Briar.

And I'm still not really sure if it was a good idea or a bad one, Daja thought after telling Tris's secret to her two friends, But with all three of us pitching in, we're bound to come up with something to help the situation.

"Ooh! If I ever get my hands on them…I will make life very unpleasant for them," Sandry declared through gritted teeth, her hands clenching her plush leather riding gloves, cornflower-blue eyes flashing with righteous anger.

"Lakik's blessing on all of them!" Briar hollered in a similar vain. Daja thought he might have spat on the floor if it wouldn't have meant more work for their housemaid. "I wish I knew curses. I'd whip up a curse that would chase 'em clear across the continent!"

"I can't believe she never told us, her sister and brother! She's been acting all this time as if everything was wonderful—or, well, normal, at least—but then she's had that kind of experience? It's no wonder she won't so much as glance at any men when I point them out to her!" Sandry said, crossing her arms with a scowl. "All she sees are a bunch of devilish boys trying to hurt her."

"I suppose it's a good thing those boys aren't here," Briar said, taking a calming breath. "Your uncle would have to send the harriers to haul meoff to justice, Sandry, 'cause those boys would be dead."

"Piffle," Sandry said, her nose up in the air, her back straight as she spoke in her most self-assured, haughty 'noble' voice. "That's of no consequence. I'm sure Uncle would pardon you from the crime. They would deserve it, after all."

"Listen, you two, you're missing the point," Daja said. "Those boys hurting her isn't even the worst part. She believes all the stuff they've been saying to her and she expects to be alone forever! She's not even letting herself like anyone because she doesn't think they could ever like her back! At this rate she'll never find love."

"This is so terrible. How could we have ever let this happen?" Sandry said to her friends once the information had sunken in.

"Well, it's hardly our fault we were all separated, traveling with our teachers for four years, and then she'd only been back a few months before she was off again to University. Even if she wouldn't take offense to it, we can't be with her all the time. Besides, she can protect herself," Briar said, even though he didn't like it any better than his other foster-siblings.

"Oh, I know," Sandry admitted, biting the nail of her thumb. "I just feel so awful about it all!"

"So you tell us this story, Trader-girl, now what? What do you think we should do?" Briar asked Daja. He and Sandry both looked ready to defend their sister's right to find love and follow whatever brilliant plan Daja must have to do so.

"Well, uh," she stuttered and leaned back in her chair, not feeling at all confident. "I was kind of hoping one of you might have an idea?"

All three of them deflated a bit, realizing that of course it wouldn't be that easy; nothing in life ever was, and love even less so. They all dropped their contemplative eyes down to the wood grains in the table as they racked their brains for an idea.

"You think we ought to talk about it with her? Explain that we think she's making a big mistake?" Sandry proposed hesitantly.

Briar rolled his eyes."The direct approach? With Coppercurls? Try again, Sandry."

"Tris just gets angry and stubborn and boards everything up if you go at her head-on about something she doesn't like," Daja said, tapping her lips with a finger as she considered the puzzle. "We've got to find a sideways approach. Find a way to gentle her into the idea."

And of course who did they know who could gentle people into things like none other? It didn't take a magical bond for them to know what each other was thinking in this case, just a lifetime of shared experiences and a deep knowledge and familiarity with each other. Their eyes met for a moment, the exact same person on their minds, before they all shook their heads, realizing the same problem.

"I'm sure Lark would help us, but I don't know if Tris would like it if we told anyone else her secrets." Daja spoke aloud what they were all thinking. "And we'd have to cook up some excuse for her to actually go down to Winding Circle or visa versa and have Lark get her alone." Besides, Daja thought, It would be cowardly to make Lark take all the risk while we sat safe and sound at a distance from Tris's temper. Though I don't suppose Rosethorn would let her blow up too badly on Lark.

"But we can keep it in our back pockets," Briar said with a slight, conspiratorial smile. "Maybe as an adjunct to our plan."

Daja smirked. "You mean the plan we don't have yet?"

"Shush," Briar said with a frown.

Sandry suddenly stood up, her most mulish, determined expression displayed on her face as she pointed a finger directly into the air as if she was about to make some universe-wide proclamation that would bring winds to bear and mountains to their knees.

"Alright then, if Tris won't look for someone herself, then it is up to us to do it for her!" she declared.

Daja and Briar blinked up at their sister dubiously.

"What are you talking about, you crazy noble?" Briar asked with a raised eyebrow and a wry expression.

Sandry blew air out of her button-nose, looking like an angry bull, then she raised her chin, bringing all of her authority as Duke Vedris's niece into her voice. "We will find someone for our dear sister," she clarified. "That is what I'm talking about. Then we parade them in front of her until she falls madly in love—or at least lust—and then send them at each other!" She clapped her hands excitedly, a huge grin taking over her face at the very thought of the situation she described.

Briar stared at Sandry a moment before turning to Daja. "Did you check the label on that tea before you made it Daj'?" he asked his sister. "I think there was something funny in it."

For her part, Daja just shrugged with a thoughtful look on her face. "It said Morning-Pick-Me-Up Tea, but someone must have messed with it."

Sandry made a sound of disgust and crossed her arms irritably as she pouted and sat back down in her chair. "I'm serious," she said. "What better way to prove to Tris that love is out there, than to find it for her?"

"Sure, except that she refuses to even consider the idea of love," Daja pointed out.

Sandry rolled her eyes and batted a hand at her friend's excuse. "Oh please, since when have intentions had anything to do with feelings? If we find someone perfect enough, then it won't matter: Tris will fold up like a limp rag!"

"Well, that's all well and good, Mistress Nobility," Briar said, "but where are you going to find this 'perfect' person for Tris? It isn't as if we can just go to market and pick up someone to set in front of her."

All three siblings stifled laughs at the image of them picking up some faceless person at a shop, setting them in Tris's room like a coat rack and having her walk up the stairs this afternoon to find him there waiting for her. The look on her face would be hilarious to see. Of course, the shouting, the wind and the lightning afterwards wouldn't be. It might almost have been worth it, though, if such a thing were possible.

Daja nodded in agreement, setting the previous thought aside. "We all love Tris, but we also know she's not the easiest to get along with, either. If the person doesn't reciprocate her feelings, than she'll just get hurt again. She has a hard time warming up to people as it is."

"Besides, I can't even picture the kind of person that Tris would fall 'madly in love' with," Briar said wryly, rested his chin in his hand. "They'd have to be coated in lightning and rain for her to even look at them."

"Well, not necessarily. They could be coated in any interesting subject. We all know how she likes learning," Daja suggested with a grin.

"Wasn't she interested in clock-making recently, Daj'?" Briar remembered with a smirk. "You could take a few clocks apart and fuse the metal wheels and cogs to the person with your magic. She'd look then."

"Or we could just open up a bunch of books and Sandry can make their clothes stitch the spines into them." Daja said with a chuckle. "She'd tolerate them at least long enough to read all the books."

Sandry sighed and shook her head at the green mage and smith mage exasperatedly. "Come on, you two. Help me think of someone who she might like!" she pleaded.

"What does she like, anyway? Seriously, I mean. Like, what kind of person would she want?" Briar wondered aloud.

"A boy," Daja clarified. "She told me she has no interest in girls."

"Well, that narrows it down some. Not much, but some," Sandry said, trying to sift through the faces of everyone she knew to come up with an adequate suitor for her sister and friend.

"And they'd have to be smart," their foster-brother said while tapping his chin in consideration. "She can't stand stupid people, you know she can't. She chews 'em up whole and spits 'em back out."

The young noblewoman nodded her head in complete agreement. "Yes, that goes without saying."

Daja itched the side of her face, also thinking on the problem. "Probably someone older that her," she realized. "Even more so than us, she tends to get along with older people. Or more mature people, at the very least."

"And she hates it when people look at her funny, so they've got to be used to powerful magics," Briar reminded everyone.

"So a mage then, I guess?" Daja suggested.

"Or someone used to big magic. A mage might be competitive. We all hate when people think they have to try to prove they're better than us just because we're considered prodigies and got our medallions at thirteen," Briar added, remembering all those times when people their age and even older would grow jealous and shun them for having superior abilities at such a young age, thinking they must have cheated somehow or were hording their techniques to keep others from reaching their level. It wasn't a pleasant feeling at all, especially considering it was all rubbish. Tris, as the most spectacular of the four, had dealt with it to an even more advanced degree, and they all knew she was the most easily hurt out of them, despite her armor of cynicism.

"But a magic-less person might be nervous around her," Sandry pointed out with equal consideration, remembering similar instances of injustice against their sister. "Tris is the most flashy of us. It would probably take another mage to accept miniature lightning sprouting from her hair without being afraid." She shrugged, wearing a slightly wry smile as she said, "But mage or not, they need to be very brave."

"Well, yeah. They'd have to be practically fearless to get near Tris in the mornings, magic or no," Briar said with an amused smile at the thought. "She always looks like she's about to hack at you with her nose until you're just a few bits of gravel that she can sweep up with a broom." They all shared a laugh at the thought.

"And on top of all that, being interesting will really help," Daja added to the conversation once the giggles had dissipated. "So, well-traveled? Scholarly? Someone who can tell her things she doesn't know and keep her entertained."

"Oh-oh! And they can't be a slob!" Briar interjected as soon as the idea came into his mind. "It took us a year to find a housemaid and cook she was satisfied with. They have to be perfectly organized and hygienic. Not a speck of dust anywhere in their bedroom. Tris would be really impressed by that." He nodded to himself, proud at this observation.

Daja shot her brother a sly grin. "Expecting her to wind up cloistered in someone's bedroom so soon?"

He shrugged shamelessly. "Well, finding someone like this will probably take a lot of effort, so yeah, she'd better take advantage of it, or I'll be really hurt." He fake-pouted for a moment before continuing, "Besides, having some 'fun' might take out some of that burr in her saddle that she's been carrying around since we met her."

"Don't expect miracles, Briar," Daja told him. "It's sex, not a personality replacement."

"Yeah…besides, Tris wouldn't be Tris if she wasn't at least a little crabby," the green mage admitted.

"Right, so what do we have so far?" Sandry interrupted and began ticking points off onto her fingers. "A male who is smart and interesting, who can handle her odd magic, and isn't afraid of her sharp remarks, who is older than her and very clean. Now, who do we know that meets our criteria? And who hasn't been any of our teachers," she added hastily. "Or our students."

All three of them retreated to their own minds as they meditated on this question.

After a few minutes of mutual silence, Briar frowned. "I'm sure there has to be someone. It's just…none are coming to me right now."

"Me neither," Daja followed in a similar vein.

"Nor me," Sandy admitted dejectedly.

They all sighed.

"Well, how about we just keep an eye out for a few days, thinking on the idea?" Daja suggested for lack of any other solution presenting itself. "And if we think of someone who would make a good match, we'll suggest them at our next meeting. That sound good?"

"I guess so," Briar agreed. "I'm sure someone's name is going to pop into my head in the middle of the night now and ruin my sleep."

"Walking around and coming into contact with various people is bound to trigger something," Sandry said with a nod.

"All right then," Daja nodded with satisfaction. "Now, when Tris comes home, all we talked about was the recent increase of the exchange rate of Lairanese silver, right?"

"Right!" her siblings said together.

[NoirGrimoir]

Part Two of Chapter One

After buying food from a vender and eating it while walking, enjoying every crumb after all the energy-sapping spell work she'd conducted, Tris set about spreading her flyers. She window-shopped in various stores she was familiar with, reacquainting herself with old friends and handing out her pamphlets to the shop-owners, some of whom were even kind enough to promise to spread the word, and hung the pamphlets in the windows to be seen by all who passed by. With such great advertising, Tris was beginning to feel unusually optimistic and now she was certain that business would be booming in a week or two. She had the best credentials and charged reasonable prices, who wouldn't be interested?

While making her rounds, Tris stopped to pick up a few plant ingredients for medicine which weren't common enough that it was economical for Briar to grow them himself and which weren't exotic enough that he had to if he wanted a reliable supply and some money on the side. They had been amongst the things asked for by her foster-brother, along with a few other odds and ends.

Passing by a familiar new-and-used book store, Tris stopped to look at it longingly. She was busy and she knew that if she walked in, she would inevitably spend more time than she meant to inside. She loved books with a passion, and what was more, she was in need of something to read as she'd finished a book lent to her by Duke Vedris just the night before.

I shouldn't, Tris told herself, even though in the back of her mind she kept thinking that, especially after the work she'd done today, she not only deserved a good book, but had the funds to afford one.

In the end she couldn't help herself. It would only take a moment: she'd chat with the store owner and give him her pamphlet, then buy the first book that caught her eye. She would only be a little while. A half hour at most.

Tris's hands itched as she forced herself to pass by the table covered in piles of books in front of the store, being watched by a young woman about thirteen years old, who she knew was the youngest daughter of the owner, Master Nelsin. Tris smiled at her and the girl smiled back, saying, "Welcome!" but gave no sign that she recognized Tris at all. This, she supposed, wasn't surprising since the shop-girl would have been only nine at the time and usually sitting at a desk in the corner practicing her letters, oblivious to anyone else around.

Stepping into the bookstore, Tris took a deep breath, reveling in the smell of paper, parchment and leather from new and old books alike. Looking around at the shelves and tables with books, stacks of paper and writing paraphernalia occupying every available surface, she felt almost giddy. There was no doubt that many new things had come in since she'd been in the shop, things she'd never read before. Tris was bound to find a new and interesting read here, not to mention that Master Nelsin was quite adept at recommending books to his customers. She'd never gone wrong purchasing something he'd suggested to her.

"Well, if it isn't Trisana!" Tris heard, and she turned to see the owner himself: an older man, rather short, stoat and decidedly mole-like, his close-cropped greying hair covering his head in a light fuzz, his squinting light blue eyes behind glasses even thicker than her own and wearing the clothing of a scholar, ink stains on his fingers and all.

Walking towards her, he stopped to grab her hand in his larger pudgy one and pumped it heartily. "I haven't seen you in a few years! Your friends told me you went to study at Lightsbridge," he said jovially.

"Yes, it's true," she admitted with a nervous smile and adjusted her glasses, pushing them up the bridge of her long nose with one finger.

She was embarrassed, but also charmed, that the man had thought about her despite the fact that he had used her much-disliked full first name. She hadn't known she'd left any kind of impression on the man. She hadn't even realized he'd known her full name to begin with; she'd always introduced herself as Tris, and he usually just addressed her as 'dear.'

"But I'm back now. And I'm starting my own business," she explained.

"Wonderful! Good for you, dear, good for you!" the man said with genuine happiness that made her smile widen all the more for it's warmth, even though the expression usually wasn't her forte.

It was then that she noticed the man just behind him who the shop owner had obviously been speaking to when she entered.

"Did I interrupt something?" Tris asked hesitantly, feeling a bit self-conscious of the fact that Master Nelsin had just snubbed someone to greet her of all people. The man usually didn't make a habit of doing that sort of thing to his patrons.

Master Nelsin blinked in surprise. "Oh! Heinzenrich, so sorry!" he said, turning to the other man. Speaking to Tris, he patted a hand on her shoulder and kindly said, "Browse around a bit, take your time, dear. We'll talk in a moment after I finish this up, yes? Good!" then turned to the man and the two began to haggle in what Tris realized was a situation where Master Nelsin was buying a large stack of used books from the fellow.

On occasion Tris liked to watch the back and forth of two people trying to get the best deal, but right now she was more interested in the countless volumes of literature around her and she ignored their discourse in favor of looking at books. Sweeping over the titles, she skipped over the ones she'd already read (which were a surprisingly large amount of them) and pulled out the few that caught her fancy, opening them up to read the first few pages and decide whether it was something she would enjoy, completely forgetting about her resolution to grab the first likely book she saw, pay for it and leave quickly.

By the time she'd made it half way around the shop she had a few hopefuls. Inspired by her trip to the printers, she'd picked up Making the Mark: A History of the Evolution of Writing and it's Contributions to the Present, and with that, she had leaped to add Tales of the Painted Desert: A Compilation of Translated Folklore of the Cehrokoe Tribe of the Western Continent as the native people of that region were of particular interest to her, partly because it was a subject she knew virtually nothing about and she felt the need to remedy that. Aside from those two however, she was having a problem deciding between a book that appeared to be about the flora and fauna of tropical rainforests all over the world and another on the history of a no longer existing empire across the Pebbled Sea to the south called Jyptica.

She held the two books in front of her, willing them to speak to her and tell her which to buy. Not surprisingly, no disembodied voices popped into her head with commandments concerning which to purchase. She sighed her frustration.

I almost wish Chime were here, Tris thought wryly. She'd accidentally scratch up a leather binding or tear a page or two and I wouldn't have to make the decision myself—I'd be forced to pay for whichever one she happened to damage. The will of the Gods indeed, she snuffed.

"—quite rare, and in perfect condition, I can't believe you would want to sell them," penetrated Master Nelsin's voice into her frustrated brain. Unexpectedly, Tris found herself eavesdropping as he was haggling with the stranger across the room.

"Yes," came voice of the other man, a little deep and tinged with an innate tone of misery that some people had even when they were splendidly happy. "But it's been made clear to me that owning seven copies of Lucierne's Divided Minds is a bit excessive, and so I've finally allowed myself to part with three of them, along with a few other extra copies of books I own."

Tris frowned slightly as she found herself listening in. The exceptionally crisp, preciseness of the pronunciation, along with a hint of something foreign and curiously unfamiliar to Tris in the man's manner of speaking told her two things.

Firstly, it told her that she was listening to someone whose original language wasn't the Imperial Kuchali that all the countries between Namorn and Tharios, which were formerly part of the Kurchal Empire, spoke. The accent also wasn't Namornese, though she thought it might be related.

Secondly, the person was likely highly educated, or at least taught the language by someone who was. Tris had found that most people—her former teachers Niko and Dedicate Crane included—who spent a great amount of time involving themselves in the serious academic circles of universities seemed to adopt a concise and exacting way of saying and using words that, through the effort of trying to eliminate the accenting or muddying of the language, became it's own distinct and easily recognizable dialect.

Truthfully, upon her return from Lightsbridge, Tris had been teased a bit by her siblings for acquiring a flavoring of said dialect in her own manner. But if Tris's speech had been tinged, this man's had been soaked, and only the odd not-Namornese language echoing in his vowel-sounds and diphthongs hinted he had ever spoken otherwise.

"But this version is in the original Qalish," Master Nelsin argued passionately to the other man. "It's not exactly an antique, but they don't publish these anymore, either!"

There was a melancholic sigh. "Yes, I know," said the patron, his tone edged in frustration. "I keep telling myself I'm going to brush the dust off my Qalish and write a new translation—Bowen's version is so inaccurate and lacking in poetic skill it's a wonder anyone takes it seriously—but I'm already doing the same thing for The Epinoa Cycle and Pancreon's A Dark Shade on Humanity and I'm already being harangued by Edeleia to translate Dalion Flintstrike's expedition journals, which he wrote partly in Namornese, partly in Norsringian and partly in an obscure runic alphabet in Old Nurwign for some exceedingly bizarre reason. I'm pretty sure he was a bit touched in the head, because even I'm not that eccentric. So really, I just don't have the time. If I ever come to a point when I'm not translating something else then I know people who can get me another copy."

Tris frowned to herself as she kept her head down, pretending to be looking through the pages of one of her books as she pulled a bit of air through the room so she could hear the conversation better. She didn't recognize any of those titles, but she found herself becoming interested. She loved books and found languages to be fascinating even though she wasn't any kind of linguist herself, she was however a bit proud of fluently speaking both Namornese and Tharian, in addition to her Imperial. Listening in to a discussion combining the two was a treat she couldn't tear herself away from, she would just have to make sure she continued to do so discretely.

Tris heard Master Nelsin scratch his head. "Well, if you are sure…," he told the man unconfidently.

"You musn't try to talk me back out of it," the man warned. "My apprentice would be sorely disappointed. She just spent two months getting me to agree to just this. I have whole shelves of tomes that she insists are equally wasteful of space."

Master Nelsin snorted. "Oh, youngsters these days! They just don't understand the value of the written word."

Tris narrowed her eyes at her page. Then what am I, she thought, a goose?

"Lucierne's Divided Minds is a masterpiece," the bookstore owner continued fervently. "One could never own enough copies! And so is Verid's The Gods' Many Hands and Bagua's Of Earth and Man. I might just keep these myself…," he threatened.

"You are welcome to—I would know they were given the respect they deserve. They aren't particularly valuable copies, so it isn't as if I'm losing a great deal of money on the sale. Even so, it really is hard to part with them, Divided Minds especially, but I already have a one-of-a-kind Qalish copy which was personally owned by Lucierne's contemporary, Marius Drakogni, with his personal commentary written in the margins. And between the other three I have the major translations: a Namornese translation by Harkram—which is wonderful—an illuminated version translated by Abbot Klaussen into Norsringian, and a really old Imperial translation by Garner that really ought to be used instead of Bowen's because, not only is it more accurate, but it actually tries to keep the verse more or less intact. So that being said, these are just weighing me down."

Tris frowned to herself. Okay now that just sounded like he was showing off.

"I actually had to buy a new shelf last week because I hadn't room for all my books," the stranger added, "but then I realized I hadn't room for the new shelf either—and I don't know how that got by me—I already had so many. It was at that point that I began to consider that amidst my apprentice's bellyaching there might actually be a valid argument."

Master Nelsin chuckled at the tale. "Well in that case you do seem to be quite covered. Still, it's a pity, but your loss is my gain!" he responded excitedly. There was a jingling of coins and Tris knew the transaction had been made. "Trisana, dear!" she heard the shopkeeper call her, and she whipped around, wondering if she'd been caught.

"Come have a look at these!" the old man beckoned merrily as she eyed him with wariness. "No doubt one of them will interest a learned girl such as yourself," he said.

She hesitated for a moment but did end up walking up to the table where Master Nelsin and his companion were standing with a serious looking stack of books. After eying them hungrily, Tris took this opportunity to examine the man she'd been eavesdropping on.

He was a little younger than she'd expected, but still a good bit older than herself; perhaps twenty-eight or twenty-nine; she didn't think she'd go so far as to say thirty. His build was middling-tall, thin and willowy underneath his well-made but austere grey clothes that, if anything, were even more scholarly-looking than Master Nelsin's, especially with the stark black over-robe that looked utilitarian and even clerical in cut. Light freckles stood out against his very pale skin which made her wonder if he wasn't Namornese after all. His hooded eyes reminded her of nothing so much as a sea-hawk and he had almost girlishly long lashes over dark dusky-blue irises. His very straight nose almost rivaled hers for severity and he had a longish face that was a bit too plain to outright be called handsome, though she supposed 'very pleasant' fit him quite well. Topping it all off was his straight, darkest-auburn hair that was, either due to intent or neglect, starting to grow out from his previous shorter hair style and transitioning into something that might be called medium-length.

Tris noted that he had dark circles under his eyes that were probably due to fatigue, considering that he seemed reasonably healthy otherwise. And the combination of his clothes, expression and posture also exuded a dour soberness that could have impressed some of the more ascetic Air Dedicates she knew. She vaguely wondered how someone under thirty managed to seem like an old man, but then remembered her student Keth joking about her being an old lady when she was fourteen and Tris realized almost-thirty wasn't nearly so unlikely a time as barely-a-teenager was to develop an elderly disposition.

Oh, and another thing—he blazed silver in her magical sight. And quite strongly as well, though after a certain point of brightness it was almost impossible to distinguish a moderately powerful mage from a Great Mage, so it was hard to say exactly how powerful he was, and there was always more to magic than raw strength, skill was really the biggest factor. But his possession of magic meant that if he found out about who she was, then he was that much more likely to be jealous and cruel, just as all the others had been. A critical persona and magical power wasn't exactly a combination that tended to get along well with her.

Tris tried not to frown and give herself away as she thought, Great, how come whenever I meet someone new and interesting to speak to they're never the sort of person that still would want to once they knew the truth about me? The weather mage was aware that she was exaggerating a bit, but still. It never seemed quite fair.

Well, there goes my good mood, Tris thought. I'll just keep the details to myself and hopefully Master Nelsin will too, and maybe he'll leave before I have to put up with a snubbing. This man seemed to be the type that could make her life a misery.

She eyed him distrustfully but the man just gave her a polite smile that didn't appear to hold any negativity, even if it was only distantly friendly. Neither did it brighten up his appearance in any way. She supposed that must be a special talent of his.

You wouldn't be smiling so civil-like if you knew who I was, Tris thought uncharitably. Vaguely, she considered that he must be a student from one of the universities other than Lightsbridge, otherwise he'd have already called her out as she was quite well known there. Oh, but he'd mentioned an apprentice, hadn't he? A relatively new mage, then.

"Look at this one, m'dear—Meraissa Thistle's essays on sovereignty and government. You haven't read it have you? No? Wonderful! Now, you could appreciate this," Master Nelsin said enthusiastically, handing her one of the books from the stack.

She immediately directed her attention to it, considering it was being thrust at her so unceremoniously. Setting down her former considerations, she took it in her hands. Leafing through it, she wasn't altogether surprised that it did look interesting indeed, considering it was recommended by Master Nelsin. She was even able to forgive that it had been previously owned by the stoic mage next to her.

"Oh! And Sogahrdt's Felerose. Delightful book," he said and passed it to her, forcing her to put down the other one.

Taking it, she frowned upon perusing what was inside. "This is fiction. A romance," she said, narrowing her eyes behind her spectacles, her voice colored by disgust. "You know I can't abide that frippery, Master Nelsin. Tales of adolescent drama bore me to tears." Or to violence at the idiots being written about, Tris thought. Or the fool who wrote it to begin with.

"Felerose? 'Adolescent drama'?" said the man who'd previously owned the books they were discussing, his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise and mild amusement at her description. "I don't believe I've ever heard so poignant a criticism—that book is rather highly regarded by the literature community as a masterpiece of political satire."

Tris looked at the book in her hand dubiously, wondering if the 'literature community' had been smoking something of questionable legality when reading the thing. She didn't even have to, to know it was barely tolerable mush.

"Ack! By the gods, where are my manners today!" Master Nelsin exclaimed. "Trisana, dear, this is Heinzenrich. He started loitering around the shop recently, quite a knowledgeable fellow. Haven't found a book worth reading that he hasn't read yet, but I'm still trying. Heinzenrich, Trisana here has been coming to my shop since she was neigh on ten or eleven years old! She's quite accomplished herself. Her thoughts on Cyclida are extremely insightful. Opened my mind to it like nothing else!"

Tris blushed faintly at the praise and the odd introduction he'd given of her. Trust Master Nelsin to introduce people with a description of how well-read they were as opposed to where they were from or their occupations, something more normal, she thought wryly.

The man, Heinzenrich, who she was now a hundred percent certain was foreign because he had a name that certainly did not come from Emelan, held out his hand to her politely. She took it and shook it, feeling a little odd. "It's just Tris," she said while doing so.

"Just 'Tris'? But 'Trisana' has such history attached to it," he said, actually looking a bit disappointed. "It comes from Haidheltic, the root-language of Namornese. It's a variance of the name 'Trizanya,' meaning 'thrice-wise.' There have been queens, empresses and high priestesses with the name or some variation of it."

"Really?" she said surprised, for a moment not disliking the name her neglectful parents had given her quite so much. "I hadn't realized that." Now that she thought of it, there had been a Namornese empress long ago named Trizanya, and a Queen of Olart had shared her own name.

"Heinz is fine for me, however. My name is a bit long to justify using on a regular basis, despite Master Nelsin's insistence on doing so," he told her matter-of-factly and Tris was secretly grateful because 'Heinzenrich' was kind of a mouthful.

She was, however, a little confused that he hadn't mentioned his last name, which would have doubtless been a mage-name. A lot of the mages she'd known, especially at Lightsbridge, tended to throw their mage-name around as much as possible among each other as well as non-mages, showing off. Of course, she hadn't given him her last name, either, but there was a certain stigma associated with her name that she didn't like to follow her. She didn't really know why this Heinz wouldn't give her his, but she supposed she was happy he hadn't, considering she would then have had to name herself as Trisana Chandler, out of politeness, and there were few mages who didn't know her name these days.

"But as I was saying," he said, "Felerose isn't really a romance at all. It's more like a commentary on the Namornese empirical system using allegory. Think of Felerose as the Namornese nobility and Marranque as the Emporer or Empress and you should understand the parallels."

"No, I don't think so," she told the fellow, trying not to sound as rude about the rejection as her feelings warranted. Tris really didn't want to read this book. She hated romantic fiction. Stories about fantasy people having silly relationships and running around crying about things that hadn't happened, didn't exist, and wouldn't have been such a big problem even if they had—-she couldn't stand them. That being so, this Felerose certainly wasn't the sort of thing she found interesting. And on top of that, Tris was still a bit biased against anything about Namorn, considering how terrible her visit had been four years ago. The two sour feelings combined to make it all but a forgone conclusion that she would not willingly spend her money on this thing.

"Well, that's too bad," he said, sounding more thoughtful than offended. "It can be a lovely read, even disregarding the extra angle."

"Agreed. Though a bit depressing at the end, I must say," Master Nelsin added with a nod.

"Well, most things involving Namorn are a bit depressing at the end, not just their books," Heinz said with a sardonic droll. Trisana couldn't help but flash a quick smile at the statement: it was certainly the truth as far as her experiences went.

Despite her declination of Felerose, by the time Master Nelsin and Heinz were done shoving books at her, she had a stack of eight; way more than she could possibly justify buying at one time. And on top of that, she was worse off than before she'd been called over—now she had eight books she had to choose from instead of three!

Oh, this is so difficult, she thought irritably, narrowing her spectacled eyes at the pile of volumes in front of her. She wished she could buy all of them, but her budget couldn't quite stand up to eight books, not to mention she wouldn't have enough pocket money on her to pay for all of them and the rest of the things she had to buy today. Once her business was up and running she'd have cash to spare for the occasional indulgence such as this, but right now she was really watching herself. Two was all she'd allow herself, maybe three.

Looking over her choices, she decided she could live without the book on rainforests; she'd read some like it before, and this one didn't seem different enough to be worth her while compared to the rest. Similarly she decided to discard a book on Haidheltac and another on the gods of Kurchal—as interesting as the subject was, she'd read, and even owned, other books on the subject and if she could only pay for two or three of these, she wanted something new. Looking at the remaining five, she was still wavering, unable to decide.

"Having a hard time?" she heard, and looked up from her contemplation to find Heinz watching her intense scrutiny of the remaining manuscripts like a curious bird might watch a human from a tree branch. After giving his two biks on the books suggested to her by Master Nelsin, he had gone off to make his own rounds in the shop, seeming to be quite familiar with what was there and what was new. He now had two large books under his arm, one whose binding was almost disintegrating and another that looked fresh off the press. She was slightly insulted at the fact that he seemed to think she needed this man and his 'literature community's opinions when it came to books. Tris would read what she liked, not what some collection of old fuddies thought people ought to like.

"Not really," she lied to him and went back to her books, trying to make a decision fast; the weather mage still had things to do today and she had already spent way too much of the day in here. At this rate she wouldn't have time tonight to start reading her selections at all, because she'd be out until late just running her errands.

He approached her anyway, and Tris had to reassess her thoughts concerning his height—she'd figured he was about as tall as Briar, but seeing him now, he towered over short frame even more than her brother did. That, along with something of a slight hitch to his posture as if his back bothered him from working bent over a desk for long hours, made him more like just over six feet than Briar's five foot nine inches. Frankly, it made her feel like he was looking down on her more than just literally.

Heinz seemed to be considering something before he came to a decision and said. "If I might venture my humble opinion…."

Humble my butt, she thought acerbically. She got the impression that he was something of a know-it-all, what with chatting with Master Nelsin and throwing out titles and authors so casually and showing off his books; she was beginning to find him quite trying.

"I highly suggest this one," the man said, surprising her by pointing at the book on Cehrokoe Myths; she'd have thought he would point to one of the books previously owned by him. "Wonderful read," he went on, "not only are the Cehrokoe tribes-people's myths just fascinating in themselves, Reija Sicklemoon is a masterful translator and writer, as well as providing very insightful commentary." Sighing mournfully, he added, "It's quite terrible that she'll never write anything else, I rather enjoy all of her work. Her essays are quite marvelous as well."

Tris blinked. "Never write anything else? What do you mean?" she asked, curious despite herself.

Heinz looked a little uncomfortable for a moment, as if he found it difficult to discuss the subject. Lowering his voice and leaning in for no reason that Tris could tell other than apprehension about the topic, he whispered to her, "It's rather terrible, really. She died on the western continent about a year ago. Survived the black bog fever, but apparently the tribe she was living with and studying at the time—I believe in was the Sinoe, not entirely certain of that, however; there are literally hundreds of different tribes, no two the same—was attacked by an enemy tribe and she was killed." He shook his head pityingly. "That's the worst luck; only about one in three survive the fever without treatment, you know, and believe me, it's a horrible experience even when you do manage to. As bad as the Thrashing Sickness, I would expect."

Tris wasn't familiar with either of those diseases but having seen the effects of plague before, she could imagine how horrible one could be. Being ill far from home in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by people who were not your own would be awful, even if one survived.

"You see, there aren't a lot of our healers or temples in the new world, and unless you're personally known to, and allied with, a particular tribe, they're generally more apt to kill you on sight rather than help you, not that I blame them," Heinz continued as Tris listened, fascinated. "Us easterners keep trying to conquer them left and right; naturally they're hostile towards all of us. And they generally can't tell the difference between Anderran conquistadors, eastern pirates, Living-Circle missionaries and Lightsbridge expedition teams, the first two of which would gladly slash them up and steal all they have, but the others would much rather exchange information and resources to the benefit of all concerned."

He sighed gravely. "I don't really see that changing any time soon, either. There's a great deal of turmoil going on over there, even in the mostly-settled regions. I suppose it's not that surprising that she died as she did, though it is tragic. But she did manage to print this book, even working so far away as she was. It's very difficult to get anything published from overseas. It's truly enchanting, as I said. I have a few favorite tales in here. The one about Rokoa All-Born is my favorite, I must say. He had ten mouths and ten eyes. Everything a particular mouth said or eye saw was lies and illusions unless one combined them, and then it was always the absolute truth. According to Sicklemoon, the tale is a representation of how people have different perspectives, all of which taken together provide the purest representation of reality."

Tris had to grudgingly agree that that did sound incredible. Well, the man might be a bit of a show-off, however unaware of it, but he seemed to know his stuff, so she supposed that was forgivable. Maybe he just really liked books. Maybe. She was still skeptical.

Okay, that's it, I'm definitely getting this one, Tris decided, setting the book aside. Frowning at the remaining four, she sucked up her pride for a moment, eyeing the dark-haired foreigner dubiously before asking, "What's your opinion on these other four?"

Heinz was quite happy to give her a brief commentary on each of the books, many of which were previously owned by him, and give her a general impression of what to expect, which helped her figure out which were perhaps not to her taste, as well as give her an idea of how likely the books were to still be in the shop when she next came. She ended up adding the first book Mr. Nelsin had handed her to her chosen pile which, if Heinz was to be believed, was not only interesting and informative, but had quite a cynical, humorous authoress that could keep anyone entertained, no matter the subject. She was having so much difficulty deciding on a third and final book that she just chose to do without; two were enough for Tris to read for now.

"If I end up hating these books, I know who to blame," Tris joked, as she made her final decision. Well, mostly it was a joke.

"You won't hate them," Heinz said in a tone that verged on the smug, nodding at his own words, sounding completely confident of his statement. Overconfident, she would say.

Tris frowned at him, not liking the sound of anyone who she'd only just met making assumptions about her. Especially this mage of unknown origins whose personality seemed to practically embody the archetype of her most spiteful peers. "And if your wrong?" she couldn't help saying, mostly just to be contradictory.

"I'm never wrong when it comes to books," he stated with extreme severity, a hand on his chest and prideful air to his voice, as if they were talking about something much more grievous than the possibility of being mistaken about someone's literature preference. He seemed to find the very idea that he might be wrong to be simply impossible.

Tris frowned. Everyone was wrong sometimes.

"We'll see, I suppose," she told him skeptically. She wasn't so much skeptical of the books as she was of the person recommending them. She didn't entirely trust anyone's opinion but her own when it came to literature; not since Sandry shoved a sappy romance at her and wouldn't let Tris put it down until she'd undergone the tortuous experience of reading the entire thing. And then Sandry had the gall to squeal about it afterward. Ugh.

Heinz narrowed his eyes at her measuringly. "How about this," he said finally, and Tris was immediately on her guard. "If you don't like them, tell Master Nelsin and he'll arrange for me to pay for two replacement books of your choice. That is fair, yes?"

"W-what?" Tris stuttered, taken aback by this sudden development. She eyed him suspiciously. "Why would you do that?"

"My proficiency in the choice of literature has been challenged," he explained with all seriousness, holding up a finger as if lecturing her. "All challenges must be met with the appropriate response."

Tris raised a contemptuous eyebrow. "Where in the world could a bet like that be the appropriate response to a challenge?"

"A dark, cold speck of nowhere in the far north called the Norsringr Republic, as my apprentice would say," he answered, cocking his head as if reminiscing about his homeland. "She found it quite abysmal when I dragged her up there for a visit. I'm told most everyone else on the continent finds it equally atrocious a place to travel. I suppose it's all the snow and the lack of sunlight for three months out of the year, but that's just a working theory; haven't done any research on it."

Tris rolled her eyes at the man's humor, which seemed to run towards witticisms rather then her own preference for the dry delivery. She'd heard of the Norsringr Republic, of course, and knew where it was—on the north-eastern coast of the Sith, nestled against the northern border of the Normanese Empire, to whom they were allied and practically annexed. She'd never been there and she'd only met a few people who had. They exported a lot of fur, whale bone, whale oil, and mined silver there, but she didn't know much else. If rumor was to be believed, most of it's residents were a bit mad. But then people said the same thing about the Emelanese.

Tris snorted. "If such a ridiculous thing is considered 'the appropriate response' to this situation where you are from, than all Norsringians must be fools. I've never heard of anyone making such a bet over something so small," she said unkindly.

"Fools?" he repeated, apparently not the least bit insulted, which frankly annoyed her. "Not really, it's a result of necessity, you see, that we take every challenge or bet that anyone happens to offer. In Norsringr we really haven't anything better to do than gamble when we aren't falling off cliffs, getting caught in blizzards and drinking ourselves into a stupor with the strongest liquor north of the Emerald Ocean. Or reading, musn't forget reading. But as I haven't had the opportunity to befoul myself in any of the other activities mentioned in quite some time and I am not currently reading, than it's really no surprise that we're having this conversation."

Was I supposed to laugh at that? Tris thought sarcastically. She scowled, her stormy-grey eyes glaring into his smoky-blue ones. "You're teasing me," she suddenly realized. Tris did not like to be teased, least of all by astringent, snooty mages who thought they were the experts on all-things-existing. It felt so much like he was talking down to her. She hated that.

"Only a little," he admitted unrepentantly and she felt like smacking him.

"I don't like to be teased," she spat, adjusting her spectacles as she narrowed her eyes at him.

He shrugged. "I don't like my opinion on books to be distrusted," Heinz responded airily. "And so I've presented you with my terms: Two replacement books, if you should find my suggestions to have been unhelpful. However, if you do end up liking them, then I get to chose a book for you, and you have to read it." The finger he pointed at her, as if to drive the point home, was downright mocking. "I'll pay for it, though, of course," he hurriedly added.

"That's ridiculous," she responded immediately, a crease between her brows as she pushed her spectacles higher up on the bridge of her nose.

Books aren't exactly cheap, Tris thought, does he seriously intend to go through with this, considering that he'll have to pay money even if he wins? That's crazy. As a merchant and businesswoman she couldn't possibly see the justification in throwing about coin so flippantly. Nothing about his appearance seemed to indicate that he was rich. Certainly not poor, but as Briar would say, he didn't dress like a bag, either. Maybe he just spent all his money on books and didn't have the time to care about fashion? He seemed to have enough of them to account for such thinking, if the hefty stack he'd sold Master Nelsin was only a small fraction of them.

"It's far from ridiculous to me," he assured her, and he did seem serious about it, even if she couldn't imagine why.

"Well, if you're so determined to throw away money over nothing, then I suppose I'll oblige you." What did she have to lose, really? They would probably—hopefully—never even see each other again, and he'd forget about it within a day, realizing it was all ludicrous.

"Splendid," Heinz said, with a small smile that still managed to be triumphant despite the blandness of his appearance. He held out his hand and she only paused a moment to sigh with annoyance before taking it. They shook hands, sealing the deal. "Now, enjoy your books and look forward to reading what I've chosen for you," he said, and headed out the door before she could do more than frown at him.

"Bit of an odd fellow, but he is interesting," Master Nelsin said from his desk, heartily chuckling at the entire affair.

"That's one way of putting it, I suppose," Tris said dryly.

[wordy]

I love how descriptive this is, plus a paper mage sounds so interesting! ♥ Can't wait for the next bit!

[PeroxidePirate]

This is really interesting! I can't wait to learn more about Calyra, and Heinz is fascinating, too. I love the way you write Tris, and I'm really impressed by the level of detail in your writing.

[NoirGrimoir]

Thanks guys! It means a lot to me that you guys took the time to read it, and it means more that you think it's interesting. I hope you'll stay tuned!

[NoirGrimoir]

I decided people might prefer if I split the chapters up a bit more.

Chapter Two


In the end, Tris came away with her two books feeling almost as if she'd stolen them, Master Nelsin had let them go so cheaply. She hadn't even been allowed to protest; it was a gift, he'd said, welcoming her back to Summersea. Holding the two books in her hand after Master Nelsin had given them back to her, wrapped up in brown paper, she tried not to feel like a charity case and just accept the thoughtful deed without guilt.

So she'd taken them, mentally remarking to herself that this was probably the first time she had ever bought books hoping not to like them, if for no other reason than to prove to Heinz that he wasn't as all-knowing as he seemed to think he was. Then Tris set about making up for all the lost time spent debating with herself in the book store by finishing her errands in record speed, spreading her flyers, catching up with old friends, picking up mage-supplies and the things on Briar's list. Just as the shadows were starting to get long and her feet began to hurt from being on them all day since early morning, she stepped onto Cheeseman Street and gave a friendly wave to the neighbor before passing through the front door of the house, her books and afternoon's shopping tucked in her academic mage-kit, the strap slung across her chest and pouch riding her rip. She didn't even have to send a bit of power down the line of communication between her and her siblings before they were on her.

We're at the back of the house, in the parlor, Daja said in her mind as she shut the door behind her, Sandry's here too, she arrived while you were out.

Strange, I didn't sense her traveling from the castle… Tris thought back, confused, as she confirmed with their bond that yes, indeed Sandry was in the house. While pondering this, Tris showed Daja with her mind that she intended to safely stow away her mage-supplies before she forgot. Their maid knew not to mess with their mage kits, lest she run afoul of something dangerous, but it was just a good habit to put things away. And there were such things as accidents; she'd just as well be sure they weren't as a result of negligence on her part.

You were probably just busy, out doing magic and running around the city, Daja's mind-voice told her easily, but there was an edge to it that Tris found just a little too easy.

Really now, Tris responded, starting to become suspicious as she climbed the stairs of their house and set her bag down inside her room, taking out the books and Briar's things, placing the former on her desk because her shelves were pretty full; she'd have to root around to find a place for them later. The latter she put in Briar's room then stepped down the stairs and walked through the kitchen to get to the parlor.

As soon as her siblings saw her, Sandry sang out, "Welcome home, sister-dear!" as Daja said aloud, "Hey, Tris!"

Such a cheerful greeting immediately put her guard up. Certainly they were always happy to see her—well, usually happy to see her—but this was a bit much.

"There you are, Coppercurls. I thought we might have to send the cavalry out after you, you've been gone all day!" her brother Briar called out, wearing a lopsided grin and sounding a bit more normal than her other two friends. But then he was a former-thief, experienced in misdirection and trickery; given her experience with the young man, Tris just wasn't convinced by his performance.

She walked into the parlor cautiously and frowned down her long nose as she took in the sight before her—Briar was seated at the table in the middle of the intimately-sized room, sipping his special blend of tea, while Sandry and Daja sat across from him. It was a perfectly normal, appropriate setting for her to walk into except for one thing: they were positively brimming with mischief. Not a good sign.

Tris narrowed her storm-grey eyes at them behind her brass spectacles. "What have you three been up to?" she demanded immediately, glaring at her siblings over the rims of her glasses as Chime flew in from her perch on the window sill, her voice ringing out like pure crystal. The little glass dragon crooned at her as she settled on Tris's shoulder and burrowed into her braids of hair. Idly, the weather witch reached a hand up to pet her head and was rewarded with Chime's purr.

"Why do we have to have been up to something?" Daja asked quizzically as she sipped on a cup of what Tris recognized as a new exotic drink she'd been brewing lately called 'coffee'. Her Smith-mage sister was looking so innocent that Tris knew it had to be an act. Those three were always up to something when they got together without their 'sensible' sister around to bludgeon them into behaving, and obviously the three had arranged to be together without her knowing about it, which simply couldn't mean good things for her. Leastwise, that was what Tris's experience told her.

"Well, how about you?" Briar countered. "Gone at least an hour longer than you'd said you'd be yesterday. What were you doing, eh, Tris?"

Tris snuffed with outrage; just the very thought of what had transpired earlier made her mad enough to throw off sparks. "It's hardly my fault my schedule was derailed," she snapped uncharitably. "Some stiff-nosed academic was prowling the book store and thought it would be a novel idea to tell me what I should buy. When I expressed my doubts about his qualifications to do so, he went and made a big deal about it. It's hardly as if I'm trying to have some clandestine meeting behind someone's back like you three obviously are," she accused.

Sandry gasped in righteous anger. "What!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and striding up straight to Tris. For an instant Tris thought she had gone a bit too far with her accusations, but as Sandry approached she fling up her arms and hugged her shorter sibling around the shoulders as she leaned down, then lead her to the table liking a doting mother.

"My poor sister," she doted sympathetically as for some reason Tris allowed herself to be pulled along and pushed down into a chair. "Come here and have some tea and tell us all about it. We'll get him back for you!" Sandry promised as she poured Tris's favorite tea blend into a fine china cup.

For Tris's part, she was extremely confused by this sudden display of affection. She was being treated like a little child or favorite pet, and not entirely certain she liked it. "Okay…," she said carefully, her brow creased, wondering who had kidnapped Sandry and replaced her with a double. Sandry was always kind, but this was just sappy.

What did you two do to her while I was away? Tris thought to her other siblings, but she only received a jaunty Nothing irreversible, from Briar and the mental image of exasperated head shaking from Daja along with the thought, Just don't ask.

Sandry, having heard it all, just glared at them and scoffed at the treatment. That's better, Tris thought to her with a smirk.

"We are not meeting behind your back," Daja denied, then changed the subject before Tris could bring it back up. "So what's this about a stiff-nosed academic?" Daja wondered. Sandry might have been taking Tris's little tiff to be something serious because she'd just been awakened to how badly people had treated their sister in the past, but Daja knew the difference between something that had genuinely hurt her friend and when Tris was just complaining to be complaining. This seemed like it belonged in the latter category. If it had really upset their friend so much, than they'd have felt it through the connection, shielding or not. Tris always had a bit of trouble hiding her temper. The wind might stay calm, the skies blue and the air free of hail or lightning, but she'd still let you know how much you'd made her angry, that was just a fact.

"Yeah, let's hear it. This ought to be good," Briair said with an impish grin as his foster-sister's expense. He knew Tris probably better than even his other two sisters did, and he was with Daja on this one.

And besides, Tris is the best of us at dealing with supposed 'stiff-nosed academics,' Briar thought, I'd like to hear just how thoroughly she mowed this fellow down. It's bound to be entertaining.

Tris, seeing how quickly her siblings were to ignore her suggestion that they were hiding something from her, pushed up her glasses. Definitely up to something, she thought to herself, but decided to ignore it for now.

"It's nothing, really," Tris said dismissively, not so much downplaying the experience as correcting her earlier exaggeration. Compared to some of her other experiences the incident was barely worth mentioning. "I'd rather not go into it."

"Ah, come on Coppercurls, give us a tale," Briar goaded.

"Was he cruel to you, Tris?" Sandry demanded to know with fire in her eyes. "I'll never forgive him if he was, I'll march down there and drag him out to face judgment for hurting my sister."

"Cruel?" Tris repeated, raising an eyebrow at the word. The rest she ignored; as if she needed them to protect her. "Certainly not, just a bit irritating."

"Stop being all suspenseful and just tell us what happened," Daja commanded.

Tris bristled in indignation upon their insistence, but she obliged them anyways, speaking in an offended clip. "I walked into Master Nelsin's bookshop—the one on Leather Street, across from the square there where we always used to sell goods from the temple with Lark and Rosethorn—and he was there with a stack of books, selling them. And he went on and on, talking to Master Nelsin, as if he were trying to show off just how 'knowledgeable' he was."

"Eavesdropping again were we, Tris?" Briar teased.

She turned up her long nose unrepentantly and ignored her foster-brother. "Anyway, then Master Nelsin calls me over to show me some of the books and Heinz—he was introduced as Heinzen-something, but he said to call him Heinz—tries to convince me to take home some soppy romance book," she rolled her eyes, "which was absolutely ridiculous."

Sandry frowned. She liked romances. Daja and Briar just laughed because they knew exactly how Tris felt about them.

Tris continued, "After that, I'm quietly trying to decide what I'm going to purchase and he sticks his neb," using a street-word she'd learned from Briar, "where it was neither wanted, nor needed, and starts describing every one to me. As if I couldn't have made a choice on my own. I held in my temper and listened, and I was almost not hating him when I somewhat jokingly said, 'If I don't like the books, I know who to blame,' and he just snaps and becomes all offended for no good reason."

"That jerk!" Sandry gaped with a splayed hand to her chest, completely forgetting about the tea cup in her other hand.

"Exactly," Tris said definitively and took another drink of her tea as Daja and Briar exchanged looks that weren't flattering to her.

"I sense some exaggeration in your story, sis," Briar warned her. They might call her 'sensible Tris,' and she was more often than not brutally honest, but when she decided to hate someone she tended to blow every little flaw of theirs into epic proportions.

"That's absolutely how it went, no exaggeration," Tris assured her foster brother with a curt nod for herself. "And he had the nerve to tease me a bit as well and make some bet with me. You know I hate to be teased. He talked down to me like I was some child or something who didn't know what they were talking about." From her shoulder, Chime crooned her support to Tris, even though she hadn't even been there. Tris appreciated the glass dragon's encouragement anyway, and demonstrated it by rubbing the ridge above her eyes. It was her favorite place to be petted.

"Ouch," Daja said. Tris could be a bit snippy, but she generally didn't hate people for no good reason either, and this situation sounded all too familiar to her—people talking down to them because they were young. They took one glance at their youth and assumed they didn't know what they were talking about, never mind that they'd each been at their crafts since they were kids, and had nearly ten years experience—as much or more than most adults. They weren't just kids, they were veterans. It was getting a bit better, now that they were older and didn't seem quite so out of place, but it was still hard to get the recognition and acceptance they'd earned through hard work.

"Was he some crotchety old geezer?" Daja asked. The fellow certainly sounded like it if Tris was to be believed.

Tris took another drink of her tea. "Not really," she said, thinking back. "He looked about twenty-eight, twenty-nine, if I'm anyone to guess. He did have an old-man mentality, though. As if he were lecturing me." She hated being lectured to, especially by people who weren't qualified to have an opinion. Although Heinz had actually seemed to know his stuff; he just spouted it where it wasn't required.

"Well, at least he wasn't a mage," Sandry said, patting Tris's hand sympathetically while nodding.

Tris squirmed slightly in her seat. "He was a mage, actually—of course, just my luck. But he didn't mention it, surprisingly, and neither of us used surnames; I only knew because I saw his magic."

"Maybe he doesn't know he has it?" Briar pointed out.

Tris frowned, thinking. Oh Gods, wouldn't it be terrible if I had to teach him? One teacher older than me is enough, thank you all the same. I'd rather have someone who respects me from day one, to whom I don't have to prove I'm worth listening to. Children are much better, they don't have the misconceptions adults do, their minds are open.

"He mentioned having an apprentice," she suddenly remembered, feeling relieved. If he had an apprentice, than he must know or how could he teach it?

Her foster brother wasn't convinced. He knew how mages, especially the once who thought they were 'educated' mages, acted; they made it their business to make sure everyone around them knew their profession. Mages were a vain lot. "Maybe it wasn't a mage apprentice, maybe it for was some other craft. Did you hear him say what it was in particular?"

"No, now that I think of it, I just assumed," Tris conceded. Pausing for a second, she thought nervously, wondering if maybe Briar was right and she'd just passed over a mage who didn't know his power, but then she replayed their interaction in her mind and had to shake her head.

"Either way, the magic was too bright and organized," she told her brother. "It's very unlikely he doesn't know he's a mage; there was deliberate maintenance of his power. And he sounded like he was educated at a university; probably not Lightsbridge because he'd have recognized me—he couldn't have graduated that long ago, considering his age and the average graduation age—but maybe Truthston or one of the universities in Capchen. They check for magic there, even if he didn't go to one to learn it to begin with. He'd have found out then, even if it was ambient. They've been quite thorough with catching it since Niko published that academic paper about us."

"Well, if you say so, I believe you. You're the best of us at seeing magic," Daja admitted with a shrug.

"Okay, fine, but what was this about a bet earlier?" Briar asked curiously. Hey, he was born on the streets, bets were his bread and butter. He could hardly resist a gamble, much less hearing about an interesting one.

Tris snorted. She didn't approve of bets in general, and felt the same about this one in particular. "If I didn't like my books, he'd pay to replace them," she explained to Briar. "And if I liked them he got to choose one for me to read, though he'd pay for it. Ridiculous, of course. Who in their right mind would use money that way? It's a waste."

"That is odd," Sandry commented, a stumped look on her face.

Suddenly Briar laughed. His sisters all turned to look at him as if he'd lost his mind. After a moment he regained his composure and said, "Okay, Tris, I see what's going on and you've got this all wrong—this so called 'horrible person' was just flirting with you. Madly flirting."

Tris's eyebrows snapped together and she huffed, hackles rising like an offended cat. How could Briar joke about something like that? "Briar, don't insult me," she snapped. "I might not get flirted with, but I've seen you do it often enough—I know what flirting looks like and he wasn't doing it, least of all with me. Who would flirt with me?"

Briar rolled his eyes as his co-conspirators in the plan-to-find-Tris-a-lover scheme seemed to consider his alternative explanation. "Come on Coppercurls, don't sell yourself short. He probably saw you sneaking peaks at him and thought you were interested, then he heard you rattling on about books and thought, 'ooh, a smart girl' and then just wanted to show off for you. I mean, not everyone can be as smooth as me, but then you are a tough one to get, Tris."

Tris glared. "Briar."

"What?" the green mage asked innocently with raised eyebrows.

"He wasn't flirting," she insisted.

Briar frowned at the absolute certainty in her voice. "Well, how do you know?"

"I just know, okay?" the lightning mage snapped spitefully, her mouth in a taught line. She shook her head. "But it doesn't matter, I just hope I don't run into him again. Once was enough."

"Alright, if you say so," Briar gave up with a frown, but he still held on to the believe that Tris had this guy all wrong. He knew how a lad's head worked, and teasing was one of the sure signs to tell when a man was interested, if not as a lover than at least as a friend. Hmm, maybe the fellow was worth looking into? "What did you say this mage-that-you-hate's name was again?" he asked her with casual easiness as if he was just curious and not in the least up to something.

"He just said to call him Heinz," Tris shrugged, wishing they'd just change the subject. "His full name was longish, and I was unfamiliar with it so it's hard to remember." Was it Heinzrich? Or Heinzerek? Neither of those sounds quite right. "And I didn't hear his surname or mage name," she said dismissively, then eyed her three siblings with suspicion "But enough of that. What were you three talking about before I walked in?"

Said siblings glanced at each other and then immediately looked back at Tris, saying in unison, "The recent increase of the exchange rate of Lairanese silver."

Tris was unconvinced.

---

An hour more of visiting, some spell-work and potion preparation, dinner, and then some meditation time later, found Tris in her room, reading by candlelight before bedtime. She was already dressed in nightclothes and reading in bed by her nightstand with one book in her hand and the other on the table next to her bed.

She'd opened up Tales of the Painted Desert, the book containing the myths of a native tribe across the ocean in the new world, and found herself completely entranced. It was every bit as good as Heinz had promised her, but she still chose to believe it was her own good taste in picking it up to start with that was really at work here. She refused to believe that he just had some way of pegging her into a category and knowing what she would like. It was a matter of pride at this point.

Some time later, having finished the first few myths and their commentaries, she managed to temporarily set aside that book to peruse Meraissa Thistle's Essays on Sovereignty and Government, hoping against all hope that they weren't in the least bit entertaining, but once again she'd found herself having difficulty putting it down.

The authoress went through the histories of various governments and monarchs of different countries in great depth and with complete clarity, some of those she focused on being so ancient Tris had barely heard of them. The voice of her writing was seeped in sarcasm and humor, making light-hearted fun at the faults in various ways of governing a country and the blunders of their sovereigns. The foreword, which was written after the book's first publication by a well-known historian, explained Thistle's works to be pioneering, as the authoress was writing in a time when it was a death-sentence to publish anything that made one's monarch look bad, and the woman had gotten around that by making the read so clever, witty and interesting that those who were being spoken about took it more as a joke while the learned-set found it's information to be startling and insightful.

Tris rather thought she liked this Meraissa Thistle.

She was, however, very embarrassed to find that Heinz had gotten her two-for-two, though she told herself that Master Nelsin had recommended it first even if the book had come directly from the foreigner's possession before that.

No matter, she told herself as she marked her place and closed the book. She'd probably never see him again anyway.

And with that thought, she blew out the candle and went to bed.

[Kit]

There is so much to love about this. The details are gorgeous, and Tris's voice is very consistent (would Sandry use the word 'jerk', though? it was a bit jarring, which is an incredibly petty complaint to have of these chapters, I'm aware.) How anyone can NOT briefly swoon for a man who flirts through etymology is beyond me, and I love his smugness and her exasperation. Caythra was also wonderful, and I'd love to see more of her. Can't wait to read more of this!

[NoirGrimoir]

I know what you mean about the 'jerk', I'm just kind of at a loss for insults from the emelan-verse. Don't know why I can't remember any, they just don't want to stick in my head. Suggestions for replacement words would be appreciated. Thank you for reading and praising it's good parts! There is more Calyra to come as well. ^^

[NoirGrimoir]

Chapter Three

The next morning Tris stayed in to accept any house calls by people responding to her fliers. That very day she was ecstatic to receive a number of customers looking to purchase charms, potions and discuss prices for custom spell work. She gave each patron special attention, addressing them in a professional, business-like manner and receiving a great deal of patronage because of that. She was almost giddy how much she made that very day alone. Mage-work was even more profitable than she'd thought, not to mention that all of these people were coming to know her as the corner-witch who performed normal, if exceptionally good, magic and wasn't in the least bit to be feared, unless one happened to prick her temper. In which case one probably deserved whatever they had coming. Finally the stigma of being Trisana Chandler, mage of extraordinary abilities from a young age and a person to be resented and feared, might begin to lift from her reputation.

After a quick luncheon shared with Daja and Briar, who had received customers of their own and worked on various projects, Tris realized that she'd done so well, selling some of her more popular charms, tonics and potions, that she needed to make more and she was out of ingredients for them.

Readying herself for a shopping trip, Tris thought to her two housemates, I'm taking a quick trip to the specialty mage-shop a few streets away, I need some more raw materials for spells and such.

From Daja, she caught a vision of the black woman working at her forge, molten brass glowing from a crucible as she prepared to lever the liquid metal into a mold. The smith-mage paused in her work to think back to her friend, her mental voice teasing, Okay, don't run into anymore mages on this trip, will you? I don't know if my ears can take anymore of your complaining, if you do.

Tris refused to dignify that statement with a response.

Hey, she heard from Briar as she received a vision of him trying to wire a cedar shakkan into the informal upright-style. She said 'trying' because he was having to fend off Chime, who kept batting playfully at his hands with a glass claw every time he began to make a winding motion around the miniature tree's branches with the wire. Take this thing with you, I can't get any work done!

Fine, Tris mentally sighed, as if the request was such a trial for her. In actuality she'd planned on it anyway, and seeing the glass dragon thoroughly annoying her brother had been a treat.

The redhead put her fingers in her mouth and blew a piercing whistle that could be heard all the way upstairs in Briar's room. "Chime, I'm going out!" she called, making as if to leave.

From upstairs she heard the crystalline notes of her exotic friend as the little dragon came winging downstairs frantically, as if to say, "Wait, don't leave without me!"

The glass creature landed on Tris's shoulder as the redhead was just about to reach for the door. Burrowing into Tris's braids, the dragon gave an indignant squawk like shattering glass and clicked her beak-like muzzle, scolding her mistress for acting as if she might have left to have fun in town without taking Chime. The redhead smiled and rubbed Chime's eye ridges, reassuring her that Tris had just been kidding.

Exiting number 6 Cheeseman Street, Tris's red-gold eyelashes fluttered closed as she enjoyed the sun on her face as her breezes played at the fabric of her skirts and tugged at her cascade of braids. Pieces of conversation wafted passed her ears and a kaleidoscope of colors danced across her vision. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she caught the faintest scent of moist air amongst the usual city smells.

I guess the nice weather we've been having is about to come to an end, Tris thought. They'd had a cool summer, thus far. Sunny and warm, but not uncomfortable. Her weather-witch senses were telling her that the monsoon season was about to start, bring hot, muggy weather and rain and thunderstorms along with it.

She smiled. Tris loved the rain.

I'll check the area for storm-systems when I get back, she promised herself and set off down the street with a basket in hand, Chime arcing her graceful neck to look at everything as they passed, trilling a commentary of chinks and chimes whenever they came upon something vaguely interesting.

Tris wasn't even a block away from her house when she ran into something unexpected. Or rather someone unexpected. Luckily, it wasn't Heinz.

"Mistress Mage! Good afternoon, it's good to see you again!" Calyra, the girl from the printing house, called out excitedly, waving spastically to Tris from across the road. The lightning-mage had the sudden, creeping desire to duck behind a nearby horse, but suppressed it and instead put on her best public smile, which admittedly wasn't very good but at least she'd tried. The blond cut through the traffic of bodies, carts and horses, dodging a trampling to approach the weather-witch, who had to stop herself from flinching every time the student-mage narrowly escaped death.

Chime made an inquiring sound and tilted her head at the girl as she made her way through the crowd.

"I met her yesterday when I was spelling the Printing House," Tris whispered in explanation to her companion who rode on her shoulder. "She's a student paper-mage."

Chime made a sound in response, for all the world as if she'd understood.

Finally the girl came to a stop on Tris's side of the street within easy conversing distance, sighing in relief at her survival. The redhead scowled at her, pushing her glasses further up on her long, formidable nose. "You realize you could have gotten yourself killed, pulling a stunt like that," Tris scolded as her heart-rate began to calm.

"I didn't want you to get away," Calyra defended herself with a shrug. Tris wondered if people often ran away from her when she called out to them from across a street.

Chime made a skeptical chink noise, and the girl gasped, noticing the magical creature for the first time.

"Is, is that…?" The girl trailed dumbly, her blue eyes wide as Chime moved from her perching position behind Tris's hair, creeping out along her shoulder. The creature struck a careless pose that made the sunlight fall on her just-so, illuminating the little dragon from within as the lightning inside her glittered.

"A glass dragon? Yes. It is," Tris said dryly. "Or she is, rather." The creature chimed in Tris's ear with agreement.

Calyra continued to look upon Chime with wonder, her hands wrapped around each other, as if she wanted to reach out and touch her but didn't quite dare.

And another admirer is born, Tris thought wryly. "You want to pet her?" Tris asked when it became obvious that if she didn't offer the girl would probably still be staring at Chime an hour from now, having never spoken another word to Tris.

The student mage's eyes lit up, eyeing Chime with longing. "Oh, could I? She'd let me?"

Tris chuckled as she gathered the dragon from her shoulder to hold out for Calyra to handle. "Let you? Once you start, she'd probably bite you if you stopped."

Chime gave an annoyed whistle as if to say she wouldn't do anything like that, but the dragon forgot all about it as Tris demonstrated how to rub between her eye ridges, causing her to hum with pleasure, making occasional crooning noises and rubbing her head against Tris's hand affectionately. Calyra was enchanted.

After a few moments, the mage said, "Here, your turn," and rather unceremoniously dumped the glass animal in Calyra's arms. Girl and dragon stared at each other, but within an instant Calyra had worked up the courage to follow Tris's example and Chime launched into her thrumming, echoing purr without hesitation. Calyra giggled.

"What's her name?" Calyra asked as she watched with delight as Chime situated herself on the student mage's shoulder and went about her version of preening, "Where'd she come from? Are there more?"

"Her name is Chime, she was created by chance when an ambient glass- and lightning-mage had a magical accident, and as far as I know she's the only one," Tris answered.

Calyra treated this response with awe and told Chime, "Ah! You're such a pretty, pretty thing. I want one…," she said mournfully. After this her words descended into barely understandable baby-talk as she told Chime how wonderful she was. Chime just tilted her head at Calyra inquiringly and crooned, which set the girl off into a fit of giggles.

Tris didn't mind letting Chime have all the attention, but after a few moments of being ignored she grew impatient and sighed, drawling, "Did you have something to say to me, or did you just stop me to try and seduce my glass dragon away from me with compliments?"

The girl stopped petting Chime, turning beet-red as she let out a self-deprecating cough of embarrassment. The glass dragon glided from the girls shoulder to alight back onto Tris's, making a happy sound like a tinkling wind chime in the breeze.

Calyra gave an apologetic smile and bowed her head, pressing her hands together and holding them in front of her at eye level. It was a surprising gesture to Tris, who knew it to be one of humility and pleading forgiveness in some foreign countries, but not anywhere Calyra was likely to hail from, with her features. "I'm sorry, Mistress mage—ah, what was your name again? Sorry!"

"It's Tris," the redhead said, determined not to mention her last name. Calyra was a mage-student, and an ambient one at that. It was unlikely she hadn't at least heard of her exploits. Tris wasn't sure if she approved of this enthusiastic, flaky girl, but she'd like to keep their interaction free of the scorn she'd received from others in the past, if nothing else.

Calyra nodded, saying, "Right, Mistress Tris."

"No, just Tris," she corrected the girl with a frustrated sigh. Was it really so difficult to just say 'Tris' when speaking informally? Honestly, people everywhere seemed to find it impossible not to tag on some honorific or use her full first name at least.

"Alright, just Tris then," the said with a shrug and a smile. "I wanted to tell you if I saw you that Printmaster Ockley was very impressed with your spells on the building," the girl informed her warmly. "Last night someone knocked over an oil lamp and it burned all night, but this morning the wood was barely even singed. Those were some fireproofing spells!"

"Glad to have been of service. I'd hate for something to have happened to the printing house," Tris said in her best appreciative-but-aloof merchant's voice. Secretly she was very touched by the praise and happy her spells were able to combat a possible very bad situation. And she'd really liked the printing house when she'd visited, with it's passionate craftspeople, pleasant bustle and the comforting smells of ink and paper. The thought of it burning down was a sad one.

"Oh, yes," Calyra agreed with a hasty nod before making a pout face. "Though honestly I'd have liked the break," she confided. "Printmaster Ockley is pushing me through an accelerated apprenticeship because my master isn't sure how long we're going to stay here, and the schedule is running me ragged!" She sighed, then brightened, "but what are you doing right now? It's my midday meal hour, do you want to find a stand and eat together? It's really great, being able to talk with someone about my mage-training! We've only been here for a few weeks and I haven't had the time to make friends outside the printing house, I'm dying for conversation!"

Chime, sensing the excitement, gave a few enthusiastic trills in favor of this idea, but Tris had to decline the sudden invitation. She'd already eaten midday and wasn't hungry again yet, and even if she had been, the lingering memories of boys making oink noises at her took her appetite away. Tris was surprised though, and grateful. Young people weren't always so keen on getting to know her, not mean exactly, but they usually had other friends they preferred to hang around.

"Sorry, but I've already eaten, and I really just came out to get some supplies," she answered. Tris intended to get more work done, making charms and potions, once she returned home, so she'd prefer to get that shopping done sooner rather than later.

The resulting expression of disappointment on Calyra's face tugged at her heart and Tris found herself remembering what it had been like growing up with few friends. Chime made some unhappy ringing sounds and nibbled at Tris's ear with her beak-like snout. Well, what can I say to that? Tris thought wryly.

"—but I'll sit with you somewhere while you eat. I'm not in a hurry," the weather-witch amended, trying not sigh. There goes my afternoon, she thought.

Calyra smiled and Tris was immediately tugged along behind the taller girl towards a stall not too far away. I'm becoming too nice, Tris told herself as she internally groaned. No one is going to respect me anymore, if I keep this up. I wonder if I'll ever make it to the Mage-supplies shop?

A few minutes later, they were sitting on a bench near a public fountain, Calyra speaking in between wolfing down her recently bought food, which Chime kept inching towards curiously while simultaneously pretending to have no interest. Tris commented intermittently as she learned more than she really ever cared to know about Calyra. It wasn't exactly uninteresting, though.

"Why do you refer to your teacher as 'master'?" Tris asked as she shot a disapproving glare at Chime, who was craning his head towards Calyra's midday. "When I was a student I simply called them my teacher, or said their name—and don't let Chime have any of that, she can't digest most organic food."

"Really? What does she eat then?" Calyra asked as she pulled her food away from Chime who shot an annoyed look at Tris for interfering.

"A mixture of sand, natron and seashells, mostly. Also antimony and magnesium and ingredients for coloring glass," Tris answered as she scooped up Chime so that she couldn't make another go at Calyra's food. The redhead reached into her mage's kit and pulled out a small cone of said minerals for just such an occasion. "Here, Chime, eat this and leave Calyra alone, she has to get back to the printing house soon and she doesn't need to fend you off while she tries to eat her meal."

She poured some of the cone's contents on the bench and reluctantly Chime wandered over to it and daintily began to nibble at the pile with only a longing glance or two back at the cooked and seasoned cubes of meat on a skewer that Calyra was chewing on. The student mage watched for a moment in awe before Tris piped up, "Calyra, the question—answer it, if you please?"

"Oh, right," Calyra said. "Well, I come from a family of Carpenter mages in Olart. Even everyone who wasn't a mage was a carpenter, so I'm just used to the teacher being a craft-master, you know?" She smiled wryly. "No one really knew what to do with me back then—I didn't even know what to do with me—so I was apprenticed to my Aunt Yizbeth with my other cousins, whittling buttons and learning elementary carpentry, but I wasn't very good at it. And all my brothers, every single one, was a Carpenter mage. I felt so left out. It was such a relief when my Master found that I was a paper-mage."

"And how did that come about, meeting your Teacher?" Tris asked interestedly, recalling her own experience at Stone Circle Temple when Niko first saw her magic after her anger had summoned lightning to strike a tree outside. She'd been so lucky Niko had been there on that day so precisely. If he hadn't been, her life would be so much different now, assuming she hadn't killed herself in a magical accident. "And how'd he find out you were a mage, does he see magic?" she wondered. That was how she'd discovered it in various people in the past, but seeing magic was a rare gift.

"See? Magic? No, nothing like that," Calyra answered, apparently finding the concept of 'seeing' magic a strange one. "My family was having a problem with the former owner of our building. My grandfather had signed a contract for it a year before, and then the old owner's son showed up, saying the contract was invalid. He'd got into debt gambling, and wanted back-payments on the building we'd 'stolen' and ownership of it so he could sell it again to pay off what he owed." she said disgustedly. "My grandfather hired my master to examine our documents and see if they were authentic—you know, make sure it was drawn up when we said it was, that the signatures were actually signed by the people who's names were there, and not faked. His testimony proved our case in the courts.

"So at the time, I was being nosey and peeking into the study," she continued, "where my grandfather was getting the contract out of our safe and spreading it out on the big desk so my master could look at it. There were a bunch of books in the way and my master picked them up to put them somewhere else but there was no where else, unless he wanted to put them on the floor." Calyra shrugged. "My grandfather wouldn't have cared, but my master would have had a panic attack if he ever saw someone leave a book on the floor, he's weird like that," she confided and Tris smirked at the image of a grown man freaking out over a book on the floor.

"Anyway," the paper-mage said, "he saw me spying and called me over to hand the books off to. I took them from him and he gave me a weird look—he'd just felt how the books reacted to me. I didn't really notice, though, once pages have words on them they aren't so interested in me, not like they are with my master. Books always feel so fusty and arrogant. They've got things to say and they don't really care what you think or want from them. And they do everything in their own time. My master says I'm just impatient."

"I see," Tris said, fascinated. Sandry described different types of thread that way, each type—silk, cotton, wool—having it's own temperament. Daja did too, with iron being solid and stubborn, and gold being friendly and excitable. To Briar each of his shakkans had it's own personality. Tris felt the natural world in a similar way as well, her breezes being a playful lot, ready to tug at skirts or fill sails.

Calyra's eyes widened. "You do?" she asked hopefully. "Whenever I tell people that they look at me like I'm crazy."

Realizing she'd slipped up, Tris hastened to say, "I have, ah, experience, with ambient mages," which was true, as far as things went. She wanted Calyra to think she was just an ordinary academic mage, not the infamous Trisana Chandler, destroyer of pirate fleets at the ripe old age of twelve.

Chime made an incredulous noise at this remark, halfway finished with her meal, and Tris gave her a sharp look and thought shush, you, don't give me away, at her. Chime pretended not to see it and kept nibbling her glass makings.

The paper mage however seemed to accept this. "Oh!" she said, appeased, and then went on with her story. "Well, after he felt the regular old books react to me, he took them back and then handed me one of his books—that was the only time he ever let me hold it, it's this book bound in weird white leather that has some kind of magic in it—and I nearly dropped it. It felt really, I don't know, heavy, like it held the weight of the ages inside, and it vibrated. I think I turned green, but I don't remember because I nearly passed out, my Master had to take it back from me right quick." Calyra shrugged. "After that the rest is history, I've been traveling with my Master ever since."

"Interesting," she said, finding herself grow curious about that white book her teacher had given her to hold. By the way Calyra had talked about it, the girl didn't seem to know much, however, so there didn't seem any point asking. "Do you travel a lot with your master, then?" Tris asked instead.

"Oh yes, my master is always traveling," Calyra answered after swallowing the last bite of meat from her skewer. Chime eyed the stick mournfully. The Paper mage squinted her eyes in thought for a moment before adding, "Now that I think about it, I don't believe we've been in the same place for more than a season since he found my magic."

Tris raised an eyebrow. Traveling so much didn't seem conducive to a proper education. Briar and Rosethorn managed with Evvy, though, Tris realized, and now she's one of the best stone mages Winding Circle has, though she still has a lot to learn. I managed with Glaki, too, and now she's happy at the temple school. Still, it wasn't easy.

"That must be difficult," Tris said, reflecting on her years as a child being shunted from place to place, never really having one she could call home. It had been even worse in her case because none of her families had wanted her and they made no effort to hide that. She hadn't had any friends, either.

"Sometimes it's a little lonely, or I get homesick, but I'm used to it by now," Calyra shrugged. "I always make a friend or two, and there's my master, as well. And I get lots of letters from my family, I can even feel them in the paper. And I've noticed that if he thinks I'm getting sulky then my master gives me more stuff to do and then I'm too busy to even remember to be sad." She gave Tris a wry smile.

Tris nodded approval upon hearing this. Calyra's mage-master sounded like her own teachers in that respect. Some students weren't so lucky, to have teachers who cared for their physical and emotion well-being beyond the bare minimum.

"What's your master do, exactly, to need to travel so much, anyway?" Tris wondered, her curiosity growing.

"Well, lots of things," Calyra said after taking a quick drink from a cup of juice she'd purchased. "My master's magic is a little different then mine, his is with books and written or drawn things, usually on paper, but sometime on other things. There's not much to do with writing or books that he can't do. He does a lot of research for people, translates books and scrolls, and identifies counterfeit documents for the authorities and private parties, like he did for my grandfather. He authenticates ancient texts, too, and writes novels and essays—that sort of thing. Sometimes he even decrypts written codes!"

Calyra continued, eyes bright, "Right now he's trying to restore this big old codex for a temple. Half the pages are unreadable from fire damage and aging. I guess part of the temple burned down at some point with the book in it, but it's irreplaceable so they've kept it all this time, even damaged as it is. When I come home in the afternoons lately, I always find him bent over this huge magnifying glass, using teeny pairs of tweezers to pick up little specks of parchment and fit each piece together like a jigsaw puzzle, using magic to fuse them back together, page by page. And the tome is over a thousand pages long. He says he'll start teaching me to do it soon," she grinned with excitement.

Chime let out a few crystalline sounds, reacting to Calyra's happiness, having finished her meal. Tris smirked as she thought, Well, Calyra might complain about her teacher's methods but she obviously respects him if that worshiping look in her eye counts for anything.

Calyra let her wide smile subside into an ordinary friendly one. "But anyways, I guess he could do that all in one place if he wanted to. And he could always become a librarian or a historian for one of these rich people." She shrugged, frowning slightly in realization. "I don't know, I suppose he just likes to travel."

"I know some people like that," Tris remarked with a sigh, leaning back to look up at the clouds. Her teacher Niko was one such wandering spirit. When she'd first been found by him and taken to Winding Circle, the question had been asked about whether Niko was a dedicate. The questioned person had laughed and replied that Niko wasn't a dedicate but a mage, as shiftless as the wind, and nothing could tie him down. This had proved true over the years, even thought he'd put in a great effort to be there to teach her as often as possible. Even now he was away in Karang and not due back for a week or two at the least.

Not me, Tris thought, I like having a home I can go back to every evening that I can call my own. Well, mine and my sibs.

All this talk of teachers was making her recall her own years as a student, all the things Niko, Lark, Rosethorn, Frostpine and Crane had done for her. Not everyone was like them, she knew. She couldn't thank them enough and Tris doubted she'd ever be able to repay them, not in a million years.

Well, one day I'll have to do the same for someone else, Tris thought to herself.

At this moment Chime let out a belch and glowing orange fire blossomed from her snout. Calyra gasped at the unexpected spectacle and moments later a citrine flame of glass dropped into Tris's waiting hand, still hot.

"Ah! It's so pretty! Wow!" Calyra exclaimed as she looked at the shimmering bit of glass.

"Here," Tris offered, drawing the rest of the heat out of it with her magic so it would be safe to touch.

"Oh, I couldn't! Don't you want it?"

Tris pulled out a cobalt blue flame on a silver chain that Keth had made for her years ago, showing it to her. "I have tons of them, she leaves them everywhere she goes, just about."

After marveling at the necklace, Calyra was still reluctant to accept the orange flame even though she so obviously adored it. Finally Tris just pressed it into her hand and refused to take it back. The glass dragon chimed like her namesake and landed on Calyra's shoulder, assuring her it was alright to accept the gift. Looking at the little globule of orange glass, Calyra said, "Hey, I'll make you something!"

Reaching into the bag that she'd been carrying with her—what Tris assumed to be her mage-kit—Calyra pulled out a sheaf of the most beautiful paper Tris had ever seen, large, crisp and perfectly square with marbled patterns in bright colors. They also glowed faintly silver in Tris's sight with magic. Tris's eyebrows raised as she eyed a sheet of blue, striped with swirls of gold.

Calyra grinned at her companion's interest. "I made this paper myself," she said. "It rejects any creases I don't make on purpose, and it won't burn, rip, soil, warp, run or degrade if it gets wet. It's pretty much indestructible," she stated proudly with a nod at her own words.

Tris was impressed. Calyra's paper had as many safeguards on it that Sandry's clothes did. "What about the marbling pattern? It's beautiful."

"Oh, that," she shrugged. "It's pretty easy, actually. You get a tray of water and add a special kind of ink that floats on the surface. Then you make designs in it and lay the paper on top and it absorbs the paint. It's fun, too, though I can't make the ink do anything really impressive. So far I haven't shown much ability in manipulating it, not like my master. I don't think I ever will, but my master says being negative will only obstruct the development of my talents."

"He's right, you know," Tris confirmed. Niko had a similar philosophy and it might have been one of the reasons why she and her siblings abilities were so broad and powerful: because they hadn't known that that shouldn't have been able to do something, it had made it possible for them to do it. Magic was about discipline in one's craft, but also about confidence in one's self.

Calyra made a dubious expression but didn't argue with her. Instead she set about making creases in a large piece of paper of the top of the stack—the very same Tris had been eyeing—her movements deft, quick and precise. Chime watched on, her head tilted with interest as Calyra's hands flew, folding and unfolding the paper. Tris could hear her breathing in meditation rhythm, though her magic stayed neatly inside of her, not escaping from her skin. Calyra might still be a student, but she had a firm foundation, Tris realized with approval. Probably all she needed was practice and instruction in the advanced areas of her craft.

As Tris watched, the folded shapes in the paper began to take on the form of a splayed wing. Another joined it, and then a sharp, knobby head was added with a graceful neck, a long tail and finally the talons. When it was finished, the figure was an intricate and delicate paper miniature of Chime caught in flight, with a marbled pattern of gold, blue and white, the paper dragon much smaller than the large square sheet it had started out as.

Chime eyed her smaller, paper twin, making a hum like vibrating crystal as she examined it from all sides, creeping in closer.

Calyra held it out, balanced upright on her hand as Tris looked at it with appreciation and awe. The paper mage grinned and made a few flicking motions with her finger on the other hand, and a spark of her magic leapt to the dragon and it took to the air, jerkily flapping on a breeze to land in Tris's hand where the magic left it and the dragon lay still.

"Sorry it doesn't do anything on its own," Calyra said apologetically. "I'm not very good at that yet, but at least it shouldn't get damaged without a certain degree of effort."

"Thank you, it's wonderful," Tris said honestly, looking over her gift with delight. It was beautiful. She loved crafts that made pretty things out of something as common as iron or thread or paper. She was jealous of that power, magic or no. Tris had always wished her abilities ran to something of that nature other than what she had.

But if wishes were fishes there'd be no room in the ocean for water, Tris thought with a wry smirk. For whatever reason, the quote had been in Rosethorn's voice.

"Now, if you think this is impressive," Calyra said, "once in Jihan—it's this city in the desert between Yanjing and Chammur—my master and I got caught in a siege of the city by this tribe of desert raiders, and so we were stuck inside without a way to contact the people we were traveling with. So my master made this huge paper eagle, like ten times as big as that dragon, and wrote a letter on it, explaining what was going on. And then the paper eagle flew off all on it's own to find the addressee as if it were a homing pigeon or something, and the caravan boss actually got it! And then on top of that, she wrote a return letter on the back of the paper, and it folded itself up and flew back to us. It was amazing."

"Impressive," Tris granted her, imagining the scenario. It seemed paper-folding had more applications than just making a pretty figurine. She was intrigued.

A book mage, Tris thought, rethinking over this concept and all the things that seemed to entail. It would be fascinating to meet one. She always liked to hear about new forms of ambient magic, her own experiences having thrown her in with a lot of obscure variations thereof. She had never had the opportunity to hear much about this particular sort of magic.

Other people might think working with books and paper sounded tedious, fusty and unexciting, but it sounded like quite an interesting field of study to her. She felt a bit envious. Not only could a book mage be surrounded by books all day, but they apparently earned quite a good living, if all those jobs Calyra listed were anything to go by.

I'll bet no one ever asks them to do war magic, either, Tris thought wryly.

"I've never met a book mage before, or really heard much about them. They're rare, I suppose," she said, pushing her spectacles up her nose. Probably not as rare as lightning mages, though. I can't imagine anyone dying from handling a book, she thought ironically.

"Yes, I guess there aren't many of them, are there?" Calyra said as if just realizing this fact. "The only other page mages I've met besides my master are Dedicate Beech at the Crescent Temple in Canaal and my Master's teacher, Master Oakgall, at Lightsbridge, although I think my Master mentioned there being someone in Yanjing he met once who had it. They invented paper in Yanjing, you know. Papercraft, too. I'd like to go there one day and study with masters…." She made a wistful expression before sighing and shaking her head, "But I'm studying with someone who studied under them, so it's the next best thing. And who knows? Maybe I'll get to travel there with my master."

Tris's eyes widened slightly at the mention of Master Oakgall, and now she asked, "Your Master's teacher was Master Oakgall?"

Calyra blinked at her, surprised by the reaction. "Oh yes, for—eleven years was it? Not sure exactly. Anyways, I met Master Oakgall a time or two." She frowned. "I don't know how my master survived. He's a grouchy old man who has to have everything just so, but they get on well so I suppose he's different when you get to know him."

That agreed with Tris's approximation of the man. She wondered what kind of person Calyra's teacher was to get inside the old mage's shell. "I've met a book mage after all then," Tris confided. "Master Oakgall was the chief librarian, historian and curator for Lightsbridge when I was going there, and presumably he still is. What did you say your Master's name was?"

Calyra raised an eyebrow. "Oh, didn't I say? It's Master Lampblack."

Lampblack. That sounded very familiar, Tris realized, and after another moment's pondering the name, she realized that was because she'd heard it mentioned in conjunction with Master Oakgall's, most notably a few times by her own teachers, though beyond that she couldn't remember much else except that Lampblack, like Oakgall, was considered by many to be a Great Mage, much like her own teachers and to an extent even her siblings and herself. Tris didn't think she was wise enough to be considered as such, but she supposed her abilities qualified her in others' eyes. It was hard to argue with the power of a hurricane wind she'd just tied up into her braid like a ribbon. If people wanted to label her a Great Mage, it was tough to dissuade them.

At Tris's thoughtful look, Calyra asked, "Do you want to meet him?" which piqued Tris's interest but then Calyra made a face, seeming to have changed her mind, "Oh, but he was on errands today, he's probably not at the house right now." She suddenly frowned, "He better have brought his cane. He didn't yesterday. I'm not a nurse maid, I shouldn't have to scold an adult to take care of himself!"

Chime gave a shing in agreement and Calyra chuckled, rubbing her between the eye ridges as Tris smirked. She sounded like Briar did when he was complaining to his siblings about the way Rosethorn pushed herself even after living through a stroke that had almost killed her. Had killed her, actually.

Calyra eyed the sun in the sky and gasped, "Oh no! I'm going to be late! Printmaster Ockley will kill me, and then after that Master Lampblack will kill me even deader!" She leapt up, and Chime was forced to flap off her shoulder onto Tris's, making offended hisses as the paper mage hurriedly gathered her things. "Thank you for talking with me. Here—," she handed Tris a business pamphlet from her bag, much like the one's that Tris and other businesses used to advertise, containing service information and an address for inquiry. "That's got my address on it, come see me in the afternoon someday if you like. I'll introduce my master to you. Bye!" And then she tore off down the road, nearly crashing into a fruit stall in an effort to escape the Printmaster and her teacher's wrath.

Not really having time to say a proper goodbye back, Tris only held up a hand dumbly as the blond disappeared around the corner, the pamphlet held loosely in the other.

[NoirGrimoir]

Non-explicit Femslash warnings for this chapter.

Chapter Four

After a good morning in the forge, working on commissions, Daja decided she was suitably far enough along in her projects that she deserved a reward, and what better reward could there be than dropping in on her lady-love for a surprise visit?

Daja smiled as she washed up and put on one of her nicer sets of day clothes, which looked good without making it obvious she was trying to do so.

I'll bring her flowers, Daja decided, Daffodils, those are her favorite.

Telling Briar and the servants where she was going, Daja took a horse and set a course through the city that would wind near a fresh flowers seller that she knew to have good prices, and end at the Merchant's Guild where her beloved Yosleen worked as an appraiser. With a reminiscing sigh, Daja thought fondly of how she and Yosleen had met.

Daja had been having trouble selling a metal piece and the thing was taking up too much room in storage, so she'd decided to register it to the Merchants Guild and have them either buy it immediately if they had a possible buyer in mind, or put it up in one of their auctions for a portion of the earnings, with a small fee. Daja had been waiting in line to see a representative when she'd been almost literally struck by the sight of a woman carefully examining jewelry through a jewelers loupe—a small, tube-like magnifying glass used for looking at tiny details.

The woman was about her age, petite and marvelously curved, with a full bosom and thin waist. Her hair was a gleaming flaxen blond that flowed down her back in large, silken coils. Her hazel eyes were an antique gold, edged in leaf-green and her skin and facial features were flawless except for a dark freckle just under one eye that only seemed to enhance her beauty. Daja stared at her, mesmerized, until the woman finally pulled away from the loupe and shook her head apologetically at the man who had been waiting next to her, his product rejected.

Now, even after her experience of love in Namorn with Rizu, Daja had never believed in love at first sight. She'd thought it started with 'like' and then came onto a person gradually, Daja didn't know it could hit you like a brick to the head while standing in a crowded Merchant's guild front desk. It was amazing, wondrous and terrifying, like coming to an epiphany. But despite it's breathtaking wonder, it's complete suddenness left her with fears, the most crucial of which was whether the woman was a nisamohi, and if she wasn't, if she could be persuaded to change her mind.

So Daja had sweated in line, wondering what she was going to do, how she ought to make her move, all the while stealing glances at the woman and deciding she was more and more perfect with every look. Finally it was Daja's turn with the appraiser and even though she'd known it was coming, it felt too soon.

Daja stared at the woman. The woman stared back. The both of them eyed each other, shy and uncomfortable.

Finally Daja blurted out, "I wanted to sell this—," at the same time as the woman stammered, "How can I help you—."

They paused and stared at each other again, Daja's eyes widened as the woman made the cutest, coy tucking of her head, chewing on her lip. The Trader stuttered, saying, "I-I'm Daja Kisubo," and the woman hastily answered her with, "Yosleen Morrowell."

Then Yosleen smiled brilliantly and Daja nearly melted right there. And then of course there was nothing for it but to use one of those silly pick-up lines she'd heard Briar pull, which made Yosleen laugh and that was all it took for them to fall in love with each other.

Daja sighed happily, as she reminisced and thought more on her wonderful smith only wished her siblings could find a love as wonderful as hers. Her saati Sandry was the kind of lovable, happy person that everyone liked. She could make friends anywhere but she still had trouble finding that one deep love, sifting for it in the crowd of would-be lovers who only wanted her money or power. Or who maybe even wanted her for herself, but weren't the type to settle down in any permanent way and stand with Sandry in her endeavor to assist her uncle and his heir in governing the country. Her plan now seemed to be to let love find her, like all her romance novels suggested would happen if you just kept your heart open while continuing with your daily life. Daja thought that was a pretty good plan. And unlike Tris, Daja believed in the wisdom of romance novels. Experiencing a love-at-first-sight miracle did that to a girl. Hopefully Sandry's patience would pay off, but Daja couldn't help but wish it would pay off sooner rather than later.

Briar…well, Briar had been a little strange since coming back from Namorn. He still joked and flirted, but when it came down to it he wasn't near the player he'd been while on the trip. Some time during that visit he'd realized he wanted something deeper and that, while he wasn't hurting anyone with his more than occasional dalliances, his energies could be used for something more important until he found the one that was really worth his time. He'd seemed to have a more than friendly interest in an older woman who owned the same flower shop that Daja was headed for, but while the woman seemed to like him well enough and found his jokes sweat and amusing, Mistress Madlina had made it clear to Briar that he was too young a pup for her and she didn't have any plans to start a relationship with anyone any time soon. Briar had been a little disappointed for a few days, but he'd perked up later on and admitted that maybe it was for the best.

And then there was Tris. Tris who, as snappy and crabby as she could be, was loyal to the bone and had so much to give but only found hurt and rejection around every corner. Tris seemed to think it was because she was ugly or fat but Daja couldn't see it. The smith mage didn't make a habit of checking out her siblings—in fact, Daja found it a little nauseating if she thought about it too seriously—but speaking purely from an objective stand point, she didn't think Tris was as deficient in the looks department as she seemed to think.

Tris had a good complexion, a proud, angularly-face and a sharp nose which she seemed to despise but which Daja thought made her look dignified and even elegant. Maybe she wasn't a traditional beauty, but she had something all her own. Her coppery hair, too, was a rich, beautiful color and all the effort her sister went into making sure it stayed glossy and smooth in her unconventional but interestingly exotic and appealing hairstyle instead of frizzing, did not go to waste. And her eyes were a changeable grey-blue that always seemed to have hidden depths one could drown in. And while Tris was a bit on the plump side, she wasn't the pig she seemed to think she was, she just had 'added cushion,' as she'd heard a man call it once when admiring a woman of greater weight than Tris. Plenty of people didn't mind it, and some maybe even preferred it. Plus, Tris's bosom was full indeed, especially compared to her height, which was probably the reason an extra few pounds seemed like more on her to begin with. Daja thought her mind would probably shatter if she thought about it too much, but she could admit that someone with breasts Tris's size ought to have no trouble getting a man.

Ah! Brain cracking! Okay, she was done thinking about that. Objectifying her sibling was a disturbing business. It was just gross to think about a sister that way, or a brother for that matter, she didn't want to think of any of her friends like that.

But anyway, Tris was not ugly, not even remotely. Daja couldn't see how there could be no male out there who was attracted to Tris's particular brand of loveliness, even as acquired a taste as that flavor might be. She'd been thinking hard since the meeting the day before about who she could try to hook up with her friend, but for some reason it was really difficult.

Hmm, I'll ask what Yosleen thinks, Daja decided. Maybe she'll know someone.

So Daja stopped and picked up a bouquet of sunny daffodils—white with bright yellow trumpets—and while she was at it, she also purchased a very fine crystal vase to put them in at a price she couldn't pass up, which Yosleen would definitely appreciate, as a merchant's guild appraiser. Making her way to the large guild hall, Daja checked with the front desk to make sure Yosleen was indeed there, and wasn't busy with a client—it wasn't a walk-in day, but sometimes people made appointments—and then strutted into the office, leaning her trader's staff against the wall like she owned the place.

Yosleen was sitting at her desk, small but sufficient for her needs, and reading from a stack of forms or records, her gold tresses framing her face which was deep in concentration upon her work. When Daja opened the door, her lover looked up and beamed in a way that made Daja's breath catch. Yosleen leapt to her feet, and the two women embraced around the bouquet and vase Daja held, catching each other in a smoldering kiss that would have made an onlooker think they hadn't seen each other for weeks instead of just a day or so.

When they finally let each other go, Yosleen seemed to notice the flowers for the first time and her smile made it clear she adored them, her thank-you a redundant exercise. Yosleen made a show of fussing over them, placing the vase in the perfect position on her desk before turning back to Daja.

"I missed you," the blond said with a soft smile, threading her arms around Daja's waist.

Daja grinned in return. "Missed you, too."

"So what's been happening in Daja's world the last two days?" she asked.

"Well, the first meeting of the secret cabal to find Tris a man held session in our parlor yesterday while she was out on business," Daja said with a quirk of her lips. She had spoken with Yosleen a little on her wishes that her siblings could have the same luck in love she did, and Daja had given Yosleen a brief accounting of her fears when it came to her redheaded sister, but she had kept most of the details to herself. She trusted Yosleen, and her siblings accepted her in Daja's life, and even liked her, but she felt Tris would prefer that Daja keep the majority of the story of her love-troubles within the family. Yosleen knew Tris had been made fun of in the past and had closed herself off, but anything beyond that the woman had to deduce herself. Still, she'd been privy to Daja's plans to get her siblings together to discuss the matter and had been a great sounding-board for Daja when she'd been debating whether to do so. Yosleen was all for it.

Yosleen laughed at Daja's phrasing. "Knowing Tris, I'll bet she's on to you already. I always get the feeling she knows everything you three are up to."

Daja shrugged. "She might suspect we're up to something but beyond that I'd bet a silver astrel she doesn't have a clue."

"So is it going well, your secret plot?" she asked interestedly, leaning back against the edge of her desk in a way that displayed her curves to excellent advantage.

Daja had to stop herself from drooling. Pay attention, Daj', she told herself. You can't jump your girlfriend in a public building no matter how delicious she looks. Blinking and shaking her head to get back in the game, Daja noticed as Yosleen smiled as if she knew exactly what her posture was doing to the smith mage.

"Well, I told my sibs and they agreed with me, so yes, it's going well," Daja explained, "but we've sort of hit a snag. You see, we were trying to think of a man who we thought might like her, and she him, so we could subtly have them meet, but we were having trouble coming up with names and decided to consider it for a few days and present them at the next meeting."

Yosleen screwed up her pretty face in thought. "Hmm. You know her much better then I do, of course. What type of person would she like? She always seems very, oh, focused. Business-like, even for a merchant. I can't really imagine her simply having fun with someone."

Daja winced because that was exactly the reason she was so worried about Tris. "I know what you mean. Briar, Sandry and I came up with a criteria, though." Checking them off with her fingers, Daja listed, "A male who is mature, smart, interesting, kind and easy-going, brave and clean."

Yosleen raised an eyebrow. "Clean?"

Daja shrugged. "Tris is finicky about that sort of thing."

Chuckling, Yosleen said, "Alright. That doesn't seem too restrictive."

The smith gave her a dubious look in return. "Well, you know it's not so hard finding someone Tris would like as finding someone willing to get over their prejudices to give her a shot. I love her, but she doesn't make it easy for people."

"True," Yosleen said, eying the ceiling dreamily as if reliving memories. "I wasn't sure about her at first, but once you get to know her she is…nice. I was intimidated a little, by the intense relationship you three had, but she took me aside and explained it for me, assured me that while they were very important to you, I could still be important too, just important in a different way that wasn't any less precious because of that. And that it was good for you to have people outside your circle—it kept you four from closing off from the world."

Daja's eyes widened in surprise. "She did that?" And at Yosleen's kind smile, the trader girl whispered, "I hadn't known…."

Thank you, Tris, Daja thought, You're the best saati anyone could ask for. Daja would have communicated it through their bond then and there, but she didn't want to give away her matchmaking scheme too prematurely. One day, though, she'd tell Tris just how much she appreciated what she'd done.

"Do you know anything about her physical preferences?" Yosleen asked, drawing her back to the present problem.

Thinking about it, Daja realized she had no idea what kind of person Tris thought was appealing. She didn't talk about it much, and Daja hadn't been there to see what the two boys she'd crushed on in the past had looked like. "I don't really know," she had to admit. "Though as long as they aren't painful to look at, I would think looks wouldn't matter much to her if she liked their personality." After a moment, Daja realized this was probably right. Tris wasn't so much concerned about people's looks as their minds and actions. "So do you know anyone who fits that criteria?"

Yosleen tapped her lips with her finger in concentration which distracted Daja for a moment but she wrangled her mind out of the gutter as Yosleen smiled wryly and said, "This is surprisingly difficult."

Daja laughed. "I know."

Suddenly her eyes widened and she snapped her fingers with a quick point at Daja. "I just remembered someone—Oh, I can't believe I didn't think to introduce them myself at some point!"

"What, who?" Daja demanded to know, excitedly. "Do I know him?"

"Know of him maybe, but met him, I don't think so," Yosleen said, shaking her head. "The person I am thinking of is Daeved Starmer."

Daja frowned, that name was familiar. "From the Starmer merchant family?" The Starmer House were merchants and successful ones, trading in spices, herbs and medicines from the far east and, most recently, exotic goods from the lands across the Endless Ocean. Already rich, the new products, many of which they alone traded, had made them even richer. Furthermore, they were very well respected business people, and had never had scandal attached to their name.

Nodding, Yosleen continued with an edge of pride at having such a wonderful idea, "I've talked to him quite a bit. He's the middle son of the head of the family, about twenty-six, a very serious, mature sort of fellow. He's very nice, though, and exceptionally polite. Even if he and Tris didn't hit it off, I can't imagine he'd be anything but kind to her about it, nor let anyone else be."

Daja thought this over. A merchant was an interesting proposal and seemed somewhat appropriate since Tris herself had been born into a merchant family—she understood how they worked and the mindset involved. "That's promising, but is he smart? Brave? Interesting? He'd have to be able to cope with her magic and temper."

Yosleen smiled eagerly. "He was the one who proposed to his family to expand their trading to the new lands across the sea, even went there himself for a few months at a time, hiking through rainforests for new goods and people to trade with. He's seen all sorts of strange people and places, and hadn't batted an eye at one of them. Anyone who has done all that can be considered smart, brave and interesting, don't you think? Both of his brothers are infamous for fighting like cats and dogs too, I heard. Daeved was the one to mediate, which rather speaks for his ability to deal with a temper, I think."

A slow grin began to form on Daja's face as she processed all of this. "Yeah, you're right. You paint such a good picture, even I'm interested." When Yosleen frowned at the joke, Daja chuckled and planted a kiss on her cheek. "I just kidding, you're the only one for me, love."

"I better be," Yosleen professed with feigned irritation.

Getting back to the point, Daja said, "This is a great idea, Yos'. I don't want to recommend him until I've met him for myself, though." While the man sounded great on paper, it was impossible to really get an idea of a person until one met him. And while Yosleen had good intentions, it was true that Daja knew her sister much better than she did and would be more likely to maybe spot who her sister might find appealing, or see something that might be a clue that the two wouldn't be compatible.

Yosleen flashed her a devious smile. "I'm supposed to go over to the Starmer's storage warehouse this evening and examine a shipment of jewelry from the western lands across the sea. Daeved will be there, so what do you say, want to come?"

Daja raised an eyebrow, surprised at the proposition. "I don't think the Starmers would want little ol' me dropping in on them, nosing about and asking questions. Neither would the guild, for that matter."

And here Yosleen's eyes sparkled with mischief. "What are you talking about? You're just a smith mage I brought along, my special consultant for rare metalwork. And what the merchant guild doesn't know won't hurt them."

A huge grin split Daja's face and she stepped in to Yosleen to wrap her arms around the shorter woman's waist and pull her in for a kiss. "I like the way you think, love."

[Kit]

I have to admit, the image of Daja has romance-reading matchmaker isn't one I'd considered before ("Brain cracking!" indeed), but I like it. I like it a lot, and there is a shy joy to this chapter that just makes me grin. The precious chapter is just wonderful--I'm re-reading Shatterglass right now and your Tris is indistinguishable from the voice in those books...except for those times, perhaps, when yours is even better. The magic origami was a wonderful touch. Cannot wait for more!

[Sara]

I really liked this. I think you have captured Tris' personality very well. Looking forward to the next chapters!

[NoirGrimoir]

Chapter Five

Finally finishing up working on his shakkans, now that Chime was out of his way, Briar realized he still had more things to do today and he wasn't exactly looking forward to an exhausting few hours of weeding his garden at high noon and decided to put it off till the evening. This caused Briar to reflect upon his childhood days, spent toiling away in Rosethorn's garden at Discipline, and he saw the benefits of having a student that he could foist weeding onto as his teacher had. That Rosethorn was a clever one. But then, he'd always known that.

But putting that aside, Briar was now at loose ends. And he couldn't stop thinking about what he'd heard from Tris the other day before regarding the mysterious 'Heinz'. The more Briar thought about it, the more he was certain was that the stranger had been flirting, or at least teasing in a way that could develop into fondness quite easily. And he was starting to think that Tris's complaining had more to do with subconsciously recognizing a personality quite similar to her own and balking at the perceived invasion of her niche, then a genuine dislike. Briar was certain that if the two got to know each other, Tris would realize her mistake. Yes, they were a lot of assumptions to make based on so little information, secondhand at that, but Briar trusted his gut feelings. They'd gotten him out of more situations than he could count, and he wasn't about to disregard them now. This, added to the fact that he was seriously having trouble producing any other candidates, led Briar to decide that he ought to investigate further into this person.

So after Daja left to see Yosleen and Briar had finished his pruning, he freshened up and left the house in the capable hands of the cook and housekeeper, setting off towards that bookshop Tris had visited, thinking it the best place to start. Master Nelsin could know more about him, from what he'd gleaned from Tris's story, and might even be able to shed light on the interaction between his sister and the man the day before.

Approaching the shop with his hands in his pockets, whistling a tune, Briar gave the owner's daughter a nod before walking in and the girl ducked her head in a blush. Stepping inside, Master Nelsin looked up from stacking books and smiled jovially, coming over to give the boy a big hug which the former thief returned. "Briar! Good to see you, lad! You haven't been in the shop in a month."

Briar gave the scholarly looking older man an apologetic smile. He was a much more avid reader than Sandry or Daja and came into this book store quite often, sometimes together with Tris, who'd been the one to teach him to read in the first place and gave him a love for it. "Tris came back from school and had a bunch of books for me to borrow, sorry."

"Oh-ho, I see!" Master Nelsin laughed understandingly. "Well, then what can I help you with? We just got a new shipment in the other day and a fellow came in to sell me a great stack of excellent used titles in perfect condition, so we have a great selection of new things to peruse, they are on the shelf over there."

Briar nodded his thanks for the information. "I'll definitely take a look, Master Nelsin. I wanted to ask you though, you saw my sister in here yesterday, right?"

"Oh yes," the man informed him, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "She came in, I was very happy to see her after all this time. Quite the sweet girl, Trisana, and smart, too."

Briar smirked at hearing Tris called 'sweet', but he supposed books were one of those things that could draw it out of her. "Well, when she came home yesterday she was talking about some fellow she'd met in here. 'Heinz' was his short-name?"

"You must mean Heinzenrich," the man said in immediate recognition. "He started coming into the shop a month or so ago. Comes quite regularly. He's an excellent conversationalist, and the only one I've ever met beside myself who has actually read Skargirad's The Wolves Are Crying. Excellent book. Hard to find a good translation, though."

Briar felt his lips spread excitedly. This was getting better and better the more he heard. "Maybe I'll read it the next time you get one in," he offered.

Master Nelsin's eyebrows rose at this wonderful suggestion. "You'll love it," he promised Briar.

"So this Heinz fellow, what else can you tell me about him?" the green mage asked.

At this Master Nelsin aimed a questioning blue eye at Briar. "Why do you ask, lad?" he inquired cautiously. He was a nice man who'd known Briar for years, and the mage had given Master Nelsin no reason not to trust him, quite the contrary, but he could see how randomly showing up to question the shop keeper about another one of his customers could leave him with questions.

Briar considered what he ought to tell the man and decided just to go with the truth. Besides, it couldn't hurt to have more friends in on the scheme, and Briar, Sandy and Daja needed all the help they could get to match up Tris with a suitor.

Looking around to make sure there was no one in the vicinity who might overhear, Briar leaned in and Master Nelsin did the same, sensing that this would be a matter both interesting and private. "You see, my sisters and I are trying to find someone for Tris, if you catch my meaning. I heard her yakking all afternoon about this Heinz fellow and the weird bet-on she had with him—"

"Oh yes, I overheard that," Master Nelsin chuckled, remembering the event with amusement.

"—and I got to thinking," Briar continued, finding this encouraging, "That despite all her complaining about him, they seemed to have gotten on pretty well, and I caught a hint of flirting in her description of his actions. So I was just wondering if you could give me some more information on the fellow."

Master Nelsin seemed to think about this question seriously. "Hm, well, I'm not sure that I approve of you and your siblings going behind you sister's back with this, but I do admit the girl is too serious for her own good. She ought to enjoy life more, do the sorts of things young people do, so…" he hesitated then finally said, "Alright, I'll tell you what I know."

Briar grinned and clapped the shopkeeper on the back. "Good man!"

"I don't know about flirting but here is what happened yesterday—," Master Nelsin said and went on to give a more in-depth and objective account than Tris had on the matter as Briar listened carefully for more proof of his suspicions. Master Nelsin's story enlightened Briar a great deal as to what exactly had happened, as Tris had skimmed over it, leaving out the intervening details that made this Heinz seem much less rude and boastful than Tris had seemed to think he was, but unfortunately it didn't necessarily reinforce his thought that the man was in any way interested in her. It didn't exactly disprove it though, either, and that bet was still just weird.

"Master Heinzenrich—I'm afraid that I don't know his surname, he never gave it to me and I never asked—," Master Nelsin divulged after he'd finished telling about the incident, "is a very well-traveled and well-read foreigner, from the Norsringr Republic, I believe, but he was educated at one of the Southern Universities, I understand, though it was some time ago. I am aware that he is a mage and has an apprentice; I see her in here very occasionally. Nice girl, a little scatter-witted though at times. I was initially a bit surprised to hear all this, as the man is only twenty-nine, and thought for a time he may have dropped out of the curriculum early and been something of a charlatan in taking an apprentice, but I soon came to realize the man has an exceptional memory for texts. It doesn't surprise me that he might have graduated early, and the thought of him dropping out of anything and lying about it is inconceivable—I know a liar when I see one, and Heinzenrich gives one the impression of being a trustworthy individual."

Trustworthy, that's good to know, Briar thought. He didn't want some shyster hanging around his foster-sister.

"He mentioned once that he was brought up in an Ermetichi Monastery, which I found rather explained a lot about him," Master Nelsin continued. "And from what I can deduce, his work seems to be mostly as a scholar, researcher, historian and textual translator. Quite a man after my own heart, in that respect. And he seems to have a great deal of knowledge concerning the new lands across the Endless. He didn't explicitly say so, but I suspect he's been there. He also seems to have some kind of illness and keeps late nights, probably working. Some days I see him in here with a cane. Beyond this, though, I can't claim to know much about the man, other than that he has excellent taste in books and a love for them as fanatical as mine," the man told Briar apologetically.

"No, thank you, that's a big help," Briar said, mulling this all over and finding it fascinating. And if he was interested then there was a good bet that Tris would be—her attention could be captured by just about anything, she was that much of a sponge for new information. "What can you tell me about his personality and his looks?" he asked.

Master Nelsin considered. "He's pale-skinned, like a Namornese, some freckles, with dark hair, tinted reddish. Eye-color I forget, I'm afraid. Fairly tall, though," Master Nelsin held a hand level over the ground, quiet a few inches over Briar's head. "I never noticed any kind of limp, so I'm not sure what the cane does for him. His looks, I'm not one to judge, but he is a pleasant enough looking lad to me, though admittedly a bit dour in countenance at times. I think it's mostly the result of his illness, whatever it is, and his scholarly tendencies, as he seems an upbeat enough fellow whenever I speak with him."

"As far as his personality goes, I can say that he is generally polite and well-mannered, though I've heard some odd things from him occasionally. Seems to have a good head on his shoulders, quite down to earth, not conceited like some of these smart boys can get. Loves to talk about books, gets a bit caught up, actually, we talked for hours one afternoon without realizing it and his apprentice came in here and scolded him for worrying her. He seems to have a good relationship with his apprentice—she respects him but isn't afraid of the man, rather looks up to him, I think. He's not above jokes, either, and I've heard some rather witty things from him. One thing that rather surprised me about him, once I realized it, is that he's not the complete academic type I come across so often. The ones who are geniuses but practically live in their own little scholastic world, a bit cut off from practical events. No, he's rather like you and Trisana are, my boy—he's got a lot of real-life experience, though you might not realize it upon first glance."

By this point, Briar was nodding excitedly with every word. "Excellent. So what do you think? How were they when you introduced them?"

Master Nelsin laughed. "Oh, it was rather like watching two strange cats meet, except one of them didn't realize they were a cat."

Having some experience with cats after living with Evvy, who adored them and had at one point owned a dozen of the critters, Briar had a good idea of what the shopkeeper was trying to communicate. "He was friendly enough but she didn't like him, eh?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Master Nelsin corrected him with an amused shake of the head. "Rather I'd say she was intrigued but unready to be convinced."

Briar snickered. That had described what he'd picked up from Tris's story yesterday perfectly.

"Heinzenrich was a bit odd yesterday, I did realize," Master Nelsin mused. "He doesn't interfere with customers, allowing me to do any advising, but he gave Trisana some advice. This however, I attribute to the fact that I had made a point of introducing them—I knew they could have a lot to talk about—and Heinzenrich had just sold me a large number of books, which Tris was looking through, so he had a certain validity in disseminating to her some information about them. Also he made that bet, which was rather out of character in some ways. Honestly, I'd thought the man immune to insult—for instance, a rather quarrelsome fellow of the political-bent, always spouting about the government and starting big arguments with my customers, came in the other day when he was also here. The quarrelsome man tried his best to draw Heinzenrich into a row, but the fellow just seemed to think it was all good entertainment."

Briar frowned, knowing exactly which man Master Nelsin was talking about. Daja had had to hold him back from rushing up and strangling the fellow before. And he seemed to pop up everywhere, didn't the man have a job? He had some serious respect for anyone who could stand the guy for more than five minutes without resorting to homicide. Anyone who could do that probably wouldn't get offended over a little remark like the one Tris had made, even if his sister's digs just had that little extra bit of bite to them. "Really? So why do you think he did that?" Briar asked the shopkeeper.

Master Nelsin made a hesitant expression. "This may sound odd, but I think he just really wanted her to read a particular book that he realized she ordinarily wouldn't, especially as she seemed to distrust his judgment, and thought this was a good way of getting her to do it."

The green mage's eyebrows raised up to his hairline. "What? Just for her to read a book?"

"His idea of books is much like mine—probably the reason I like him so much—I'd give books away if I could afford to, but this is a business so I charge money. When a person comes into my shop and falls in love with a novel they can't afford, however, or I sense I have just the thing to change their disposition around and lift their spirits, I do so," Master Nelsin said. "I believe his motivations are similar."

"So he did it for the love of literature then?" Briar asked dubiously. "Huh, well that puts a wedge in my plans," he realized. "I was sure I had something there."

"Forgive me for saying so, lad," Master Nelsin told Briar amusedly, "but I hardly think what you pick up from hearing a secondhand conversation can be a very reliable source to base theories on."

"But you didn't hear how she was going on about him, Master Nelsin," the green mage explained. "My Coppercurls doesn't let anyone get under her skin like that for no good reason. There's the beginnings of something there for her, I know it."

"Maybe so—you know her better than I," Master Nelsin admitted, then leaned in and pinned Briar with a very hard, serious stare that the former thief had never seen on the man before, "But I wouldn't get your hopes up about it Briar. Truthfully, I hardly know this man, and I've noticed how wary Trisana is around mages. It's why I didn't introduce her as such to the fellow. He seems well enough on the surface, but in different situations, well, people can be different then we think. Trisana has been closing up more and more over the years with strangers, especially males, and from what I've seen just here in my shop, and I don't think she can afford to have a bad experience if you go through with this little scheme of yours."

Briar listened to all this, giving it the respect it deserved as good council coming from a man that genuinely liked and cared for his sister. Taking it all in and mulling it over, Briar gave the shop keeper a big smile, his heart warmed that his sister had found such an unexpected, stalwart friend and protector in the older man. It was also good to know that it wasn't just all in Briar, Sandry and Daja's heads—Tris really was closing off to people, becoming more wary. She was well enough in business situations and with her friends, but when it came to new people in a social setting, the girl was on her guard all the time, unwilling to let anyone in.

"Thanks, I'll keep it in mind," Briar said with a nod of acknowledgment, showing with his eyes how much he appreciated all this. Then he grinned mischievously, "But it wouldn't hurt for me to meet the fellow and see if he's good enough for my sister—well, no one could really be good enough, but, you know, as good as one is likely to find anywhere."

Master Nelsin laughed, shaking his head. "Well, I know Trisana is safe in your hands. You are a good brother to her, Master Moss."

Briar stabbed a thumb at himself smugly, wearing a smirk. "She really ought to appreciate me more. All the girls do is rag on me, when I'm the one making sure they don't walk off cliffs while they go off dilly-dallying, looking up at the clouds," he told the man loftily. "So, where can I find this mage? I'll think up some shifty way to make his acquaintance and get to know him myself before I let him get anywhere near my sib."

Master Nelsin found this plan very amusing, and said, "I'm afraid I don't know his residence, and while he comes into the shop often, it isn't on a regular schedule." Briar gave the shopkeeper a disappointed face as he frowned, tapping a finger to his mouth in thought, trying to figure out how to find the person. "I do, however," Briar perked up as Master Nelsin spoke, "Still have a number of the books he sold me. Some of them looked to be personally annotated. You might find some clues in them, if you take a look."

Briar agreed that this was a good idea and a moment later found the green mage sorting through those books while Master Nelsin helped another customer. He had a thought that maybe one of the tomes might have some kind of identification, like: This book belongs to Heinzenrich so-and-so, if found please return to the address blah-blah. Or at the very least a note saying something like: For my friend Heinzenrich so-and-so, which would at least give Briar a last name to work with. Checking the most obvious places for such an inscription, such as right inside the covers or the first and last pages of the books, Briar found them to be frustratingly empty.

"Hmm," he hummed, as he leafed through the pages of one book, finding them to be crisp and clean of any handwriting, or even so much as a smudge of dirt or bent page-corner, even though the publishing date of the book placed it as nearly fifteen years old. Picking up another volume, this one a thick leather-bound beast in equally pristine condition, Briar whistled.

"Wow," the green mage said with astonishment as he flipped through the pages of the book. While thick and over-large, the pages were not completely taken up by printed text, but had extra-wide margins which were completely filled with tiny, but completely legible annotations that went all the way from cover to cover, with the occasional word underlined in the text or arrow drawn from a notation to a specific passage. Further perusal of the margins on other pages showed diagrams and little drawings which Briar found himself impressed by. Eyeing the title page again, he found the book to be about ancient farming techniques, of all things.

"Alright," he murmured dubiously, wondering vaguely why someone would own this kind of book—who wasn't Tris, of course, and therefore interested about everything, no matter how useless. Briar could see how someone like himself, a garden mage, might want to know about farming in long ago times, but a regular mage, especially an academic one as this fellow almost surely was, would usually want nothing to do with it, mostly because it wasn't glorious enough. There just weren't many mages with the kind of interest in plants as Dedicate Crane or Rosethorn. That this Heinz had owned something like this wasn't actually a bad thing, though.

Taking the time to skim the notes, Briar found himself further surprised. The annotator—which Briar would assume was Heinzenrich—seemed to be very familiar with the subject, as well as with many other books on the same topic. He made comparisons of certain passages to other authors' views and discoveries, mentioning recent academic papers and journals published, or wrote his own observations, occasionally going off on various anecdotes relating personal experiences in the midst of cultures and places that Briar had never heard of. In some places he wrote one word commentaries next to sentences like Interesting, or Unlikely, or Accuracy? At one point that made Briar smile, the commentator had drawn an arrow to a box sketched around a few paragraphs of text and written Obviously doesn't know what he's talking about, underlining it three times.

But that wasn't all. The annotator was hyperaware of grammar and occasionally rewrote the sentences into forms that made more sense, crossing out words or correcting errors made during the printing process. Some words had the definitions written in the margins. There were also criticisms and, more rarely, praises of the writing style and word choice. The rest of the marginalia seemed to be a compilation of anything and everything the man could relate to what was written, including facts about other cultures, history, various other works, writers and scholars, and some things that seemed to have been pulled out of thin air with no obvious ties to the text. After reading five pages of the book and its accompanying notes, Briars was finding himself more interested by what was written in the margins than the actual manuscript.

Closing the book, Briar hummed as he considered. After a moment, he looked up for Master Nelsin, holding the heavy volume over his head. "How much for this one?"

[Milla]

Nice, you updated! I see Briar is on the case.

[NoirGrimoir]

Notes: I love writing Sandry and together Erdo. I'm really warming up to the idea of pairing them. ^^


Chapter Six

Sandry sat in the office that she, her uncle, and Baron Erdogun fer Baigh, her uncle’s Seneschal, used for running the country. She was in the midst of working through the stack of documents that pertained to the keeping of His Grace’s household, signing, denying or otherwise doing whatever each document required of her, when she sighed for about the fiftieth time. Erdogun knew--he’d been counting.

“Lady Sandraline,” the Baron interjected unhappily, slapping down his pen onto the stack of reports he’d been trying to get through for the last half hour. “Please enlighten us as to what you’ve been brooding over all morning or I swear I’m going to go crazy with all this sighing.”

Sandry blushed, now feeling embarrassed that she’d so annoyed Erdogun; the stitch witch hadn’t even realized she’d been sighing, she’d been so caught up between doing her work while thinking about the state her most sensible sister was in, and how to go about remedying it. Even dedicating herself to going over every acquaintance she could think of the night before hadn’t revealed anyone half good enough for Tris, even just for a round of casual dates. Everyone was just either too stupid, too immature, or too afraid of her. Most of Sandry’s acquaintances already knew Tris, at least peripherally, and most everyone in Summersea knew about the four young mages who’d been involved in every major event taking place in the city, from earthquakes and pirate attacks to a plague. It was hard to find someone who didn’t carry the stigma--even harder than Sandry had thought it would be.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t notice I was doing it,” she apologized to the two men. “I’m just very concerned about something Briar, Daja and I discussed yesterday.”

Duke Vedris and Baron Erdogun exchanged looks over their paperwork. They knew the four mages, though very close, still occasionally fought, and when that happened Sandry, the most tender-hearted of the four, was usually the one who felt it the worst, even if she wasn’t the one involved in the fighting. A spat between her siblings could leave her depressed for as long as the rift continued. When that happened the Duke got worried and Baron Erdogun usually ended up with more work.

“What happened, my dear?” the Duke asked concernedly over steepled hands resting on the desk in front of him.

Sandry wrinkled her button-like nose in thought, wondering if she should really say, but upon further consideration, she realized that her uncle had known Tris as long as she had, and nearly as well. He respected her a great deal and the two even shared reading material. He would want to know what was going on with Sandry’s adopted family for their own sakes, not just Sandry’s. And while Baron Erdogun didn’t have as much interest, he could keep a secret, and had also struck up a kind of friendship with the weather mage, as odd as that might seem--the two shared a great deal in common, as far as personalities, and they generally had similar view points. He also valued Tris’s political opinion and would sometimes ask Sandry to mention certain issues with the red-head when she visited next so Sandry could report back with the information. The two men could be excellent co-conspirators in the three mages’ plans.

Making up her mind, Sandry began to speak. “Oh nothing happened, we all just talked about how we’re worried for Tris and decided to actually do something about it.” Sandry then explained to them all what Daja had told her siblings and about the things she’d noticed about her sister, and then talked about their plans to find her a potential romantic interest. “And so,” she concluded, “I’ve been trying to think all evening and morning about who might fit with her and I’m having a wretched time of it. No one seems quite right.”

Looking at the two older men for their reactions, the Duke had a large smile across his face that he was trying to hid behind a hand and Erdogun managed to keep a straight face for about five seconds before he burst out laughing, nearly falling out of his chair.

“I‘m serious,” Sandry pleaded, eyeing Erdogun in particular with irritation; her uncle could smile at her like she was a naive child, but she‘d be damned if she‘d let anyone else do it. “Tris needs someone and urgently. We need to find her love before it’s too late!”

“Because you’ve done so well finding it for yourself,” the Baron criticized with rolled eyes once his laughing had quelled. He flapped a hand at Sandry dismissively. “Leave her alone--it‘ll happen when it happens, and good luck to the poor sod.”

Sandry scowled, turning up her noble nose at him. He could be just a little more sympathetic, not that she ought to have expected it. Erdogun could be as scathing as Tris. Worse, even.

“Sandraline, dear,” the Duke said kindly, gaining Sandry’s attention immediately. “I believe what Erdo is trying to say, is that while you and your friends have good intentions, you can’t rush these things. She’ll find love in her own good time, as will you.”

Sandry returned the Duke’s smile, feeling somewhat comforted, both for Tris and herself. She had felt a bit discouraged the past couple years as the months went by and she hadn’t been able to meet anyone who could make her heart race or her eyes go soft. Sometimes she feared she’d never find love and maybe, just a little, her fears for Tris had been a reflection of those she herself carried.

“I appreciate what you are saying, Uncle,” Sandry told the Duke. “We aren’t looking to have Tris married by next fall or anything, we just want her to have a positive romantic experience to prove to her it’s possible. If the two decide they just want to be friends after a few outings, then that’s alright. At this point, Briar, Daja and I are afraid that special someone might come along and Tris would be too afraid to do anything about it, so assured that it could never work out.”

Vedris pondered this. He could see Sandry’s point. Erdo broke in after tapping is chin in consideration, “Now that I think about, I’d thought she was a bit sweet on that lad Alzander--turned beet-red whenever the fellow stepped foot in the same room with her. Never made any moves toward him, though. I‘d thought that a bit odd at the time.”

Sandry sat straighter in her chair, excited by this revelation. “Alzander? His Grace’s Secretary’s son, Alzander Roberka?”

Erdogun nodded. “The boy that’s been taking over for Midos occasionally for the last couple years--more often now that his arthritis is really getting bad. He’s a good secretary, we may have to hint to old Midos that it’s time for him to retire soon and give his son the job permanently.”

“That might be a good idea,” the Duke agreed.

Sandry’s mind raced. That ‘boy’, Alzander Roberka, was actually twenty-four, and had always been the picture of courtesy and kindness to Sandry, her siblings, or indeed anyone she’d ever seen him interact with. The man was very diligent and good at his job, not prone to the sorts of rashness that boys their age seemed to get into, no, he was mature and took things seriously. Tris had only ever had positive things to say about the young man and since Erdogun had brought it up, she too realized that Tris had acted uncharacteristically shyly around the man whenever they’d crossed paths. Sandry had always liked him, though not for herself; he was a little too dry, a bit like a young version of her cousin Ambros in Namorn, but then Tris had always got along with that type of person and liked Ambros, dryness and all. He might just be good enough for her sister.

Now, this is a very promising development, Sandry told herself, But what does he think about Tris? I ought to find that out before I do anything else.

Actually, she was pretty sure she’d seen him at old Midos’s desk earlier before she’d come in…

“Oh, just go talk to the boy already so we can get some actual work done!” Erdogun demanded, throwing up his hands in defeat after guessing what Sandry was thinking by that mischievous look on her face. The Baron and Sandry had often plotted behind the Duke’s back, arranging ways to make sure he didn’t overwork himself, he knew exactly what such a look meant and he actually felt a bit sorry, both for Tris and Alzander. The two wouldn’t know what hit them.

Sandry huffed indignantly, but rose from her seat, back straight as a rod, chin high in the air as she floated out of the room with all the dignity she could summon. As she left, His Grace chuckled warmly and Erdogun shook his head, muttering, “Women and their damned matchmaking…”

Sandry called back, “I heard that!” before exiting the room.

[Kris11]

I don't usually enjoy matchmaking stories, but I am really enjoying this! You write all of the characters so well that, along with the quality of the writing in general, it feels like I'm reading canon. You made the story believable and completely entertaining and I can't wait for you to post again!

[NoirGrimoir]

^Thank you very much, that means a lot to me! Hope you enjoy this chapter!


Chapter Seven

Chime made scolding noises, presumably in response to Calyra's abrupt exit, while Tris eyed the pamphlet in her hands. The weather witch was still sitting where the paper mage had left her to dash back to the printing house at top speed.

Examining the paper, she found it advertised the services of Master Lampblack—translation, authentification, document and book restorations and appraisal, custom calligraphy and inks, and other magical services. Also mentioned was Calyra Karpander herself—paper crafts, custom stationary, fine printing papers and other magic services. Times were listed when they were available for walk-in consultations, the prices being negotiable. The address was for Hawthorn Road, a good part of town, if a little older than Cheeseman Street and crowded with more foot traffic. It wasn't that far away.

Tris did fancy the idea of meeting a book mage and learning about the magic that could go into something as incredible as a piece of writing. Just as her friend Daja could forge a gold chain, link by link, and come out with something beautiful that noble ladies would scramble to drape around their necks, so a writer put together a piece of work, word by word, sentence by sentence, filling pages that, once you read them, filled your mind with visions of far away places, new ideas, or reawakened one to the world around oneself.

It was it's own kind of magic, no less incredible for being so humbly contained within a front and back cover that could fit on a shelf. It didn't sparkle or glow, not on the outside. It was only when you opened it up, looked inside, familiarized yourself with the contents, reading it cover to cover, did you come to fully understand the beauty of it, the appeal. Tris loved beautiful things, and just as good as something that could attract the eye, maybe even better, was how a thing could attract the mind, transport it, even transform it, elevate it into something higher, if only for a brief moment. Books had that power; she'd never known anything else on earth that could claim the same.

It's on the way to the mage's supply shop, she realized. Even if he isn't there, I could take a peak in…Tris frowned behind her brass glasses and shook her head to clear it. And risk looking like a thief or stalker, peering in through the window of a house belonging to someone who was conveniently not around? she scolded herself, The Provost's Guard would probably shoo me off anyway.

She set off down the road towards her former goal, determined not to be sidetracked anymore. Calyra was nice, but she didn't know what Tris's full powers were, she just thought of the redhead as an accomplished academic mage, not the prodigy Trisana Chandler who wielded unmatched power over earth, water, air and lightning. Surely she'd turn jealous and resentful if she knew—well, maybe not, she seemed a good sort, but in Calyra's case Tris suspected she would probably become discouraged in her own magic, feeling she could never match up. The girl had already seemed as if she was disappointed in herself for not being further along in her studies, Tris didn't want to make it worse. It would probably be better not to get too close to her. This of course meant she should stay away from her master, too.

Tris sighed resignedly. She'd gained a lot of things living her double-life at Lightsbridge, but many things still eluded her. She couldn't let people get too close or her illusion of mediocrity would crumble. Tris would trade being hated for being liked, or at least given a chance, any day, but her close friends other than her foster family were few and far between and they'd have to stay that way if she wanted to retain that acceptance.

Coming to the busy intersection of Hawthorn Road and Cherry Street, Tris had completely meant to choose Cherry Street, walking west, but by the time she realized what she was doing, she was already halfway down Hawthorn and swiftly closing in on the address of the pamphlet. Chime made an inquisitive noise as she realized they were deviating from one of their usual paths and began to look around interestedly from between Tris's braids.

I'll just take a peek, just a quick one, Tris allowed herself, reaching up to stroke the glass dragon.

She came to a stop in front of Number 11 Hawthorn Road and eyed her surroundings cautiously, trying to remain as inconspicuous as a plump, bespectacled redhead could possibly be standing in the middle of the street, peering intently at a house upon which she had no business doing so. Chime followed suit, and made a crystalline whistle that Tris swore sounded impressed.

"Yes," she agreed aloud.

Even if Tris hadn't known the house number, she would have known which one on the street belonged to the mage because it blazed in her magical sight with protections and wards. The thing was a fortress of magic power, more than discouraging everything from burglary, breakage and fire, to dust, grime and sun-bleaching.

She knew people who would kill to have something that good cast on their homes. Tris thought that she could duplicate it in terms of power, but she wasn't sure if she had the know-how to do warding this advanced. They only taught that sort of thing at Lightsbridge in the upper-division shielding classes, which she hadn't taken. Her specialization hadn't been on advanced protection spells.

The house itself was on a decent plot, larger than that which Tris and her siblings had, and the ground floor took advantage of that (and the lack of a forge) by having a sprawling ground floor, probably surrounding a courtyard, though the third row of windows suggested that floor wasn't as extensive as the one belonging to her house. One end had a mysterious cylindrical attachment topped by a domed cupola and lined with windows all down the facade, but the glare from the sky made it impossible to see inside. Surrounding the plot were tall stucco walls interrupted by iron fencing, the space between the bars too thin for even a small child to fit through, with orange and lemon trees along it, adding a pleasing scent to the air. Other shrubs and flowers were planted around the building to provide shade, privacy and ornamentation. They looked healthy and well-trimmed but not quite as nice as something Briar could have done. There was no one in the house, Tris's ability to see magic proved that. No bright crucible of power belonging to a Great Mage glowed in there, it was just a building.

A building that probably houses hundreds of books, Tris's imagination told her. For a moment she could see it in her mind's eye—that curious cylindrical offshoot encircled by shelves spanning all three floors, and every one crammed with books…it was a glorious sight.

Wouldn't that be something, Tris thought with wonder, then smirked self-deprecatingly at her own daydreams. There was no reason to think that end was a personal library. It was just as likely a house shrine or any other thing. Besides, she wasn't getting in there any time soon.

Suddenly Chime launched into the air from her shoulder and flew to the other side of the fence, chirping playfully as she performed acrobatics.

Tris blanched. "Get back here you silly creature!" she scolded. "That's trespassing, you know better than that!"

The dragon made an annoyed sound but returned to Tris obediently, which the mage rewarded with a rub of her eye ridges. "I know you just wanted to stretch your wings, but some people are peculiar," she reminded the dragon, "You can't be too careful if you want to avoid trouble."

After another moment to imagine the treasure trove of reading material that must be somewhere inside the house, Tris forced herself to let go of the iron bars she'd been pressing herself into and start towards an alleyway that she knew cut through to Cherry Street and the supply shop she'd been trying to get to all afternoon. She was a little disappointed that she didn't see anything worth while, but Tris had to ask herself what she'd actually expected to find. Lightning didn't exactly strike her house at all hours even while she wasn't there, it was only natural that it was just a building, no matter who lived there.

Turning the corner as she exited the alley onto Cherry Street she was busy estimating the time she'd lost already today, and trying to arrive at an estimation of when she'd return home, when something flew past her head, whipping up her braids. She barely had time to register it as a magpie before Chime let out an ear-splitting screech like shattered glass and gave chase to the bird.

"Chime, get back here!" she called after the dragon angrily, hiking her skirts and dashing after them, but the two winged creatures were fast, zipping down the street and around a corner with Tris barely keeping up.

Tris cursed the dragon in every language she knew. Chime despised the tricky magpies and their cousins, crows, probably because the birds were so quick to taunt her. Ordinarily Tris would let the dragon have her fun, confident she would return in her own time and give Tris some peace while she was gone, but they had a rule, and the glass dragon knew it—there would be no such displays in public, especially not in busy streets near ground level. There were plenty of people around who might want to steal the one-of-a-kind magic-made animal if they saw her flying about with no obvious owner or protector. Others might try to harm her if she made a nuisance of herself by shrieking, whether they realized she was a special creature or not. It just wasn't safe for her and it had caused no end of trouble for Tris in the past, hence the rule.

I'm going to hang that dragon by the tail from a well! Tris promised, borrowing one of Rosethorn's favorite threats as she weaved in between foot traffic on the street, sending winds after the thing to keep pace and let her know where Chime was even if she got away. Her efforts were made more difficult as people stopped right in front of her, wondering at the hullabaloo going on above their heads. She tripped into quite a few gawkers and had to make hasty apologies before continuing after her companion. Loud caw!s and sharp chink!s continued to rent the air as Tris tried to catch up but still found herself falling behind as she caused her own ruckus by calling after the dragon and running into people in her hurry to convince Chime to stop fooling around and come back.

Unfortunately the two were getting away and she knew it, even as she developed a cramp in her side and her breathing became labored. Up ahead, the magpie and it's pursuer disappeared behind a corner and it took some time for her to do the same, and she feared, even as she reached the end of the last building, that she'd lost Chime and would have to wait for her to come back on her own—plenty of time for someone to try and net or cage her, or just throw a bucket at her in hopes of shutting her up.

She skidded around the corner so fast she would have fallen over if she hadn't been paying close attention to what her feet were doing. This however, meant she wasn't looking at what was right in front of her and the weather witch ended up barreling face-first into something so hard she bounced off with a cry of surprise and pain.

Her arms flailed and her spectacles were jarred askew on her nose as she staggered backwards into the ground and finally landed on her hip in a heap of skirts, unable to slap the earth quite as she'd been taught because of the odd angle. Her hands, which had instinctively reached out to catch her, were scraped raw from loose gravel scattered over the road, and her left wrist throbbed painfully and might be sprained. Tris's nose was a bit sore as well from where the nose pieces of her glasses had been smashed against her face, and her lungs felt like they were on fire after all the running, her legs a quivering mess. She sat there on the ground a moment where she had fallen, catching her breath and listening to the pounding of blood in her ears, so loud she could barely hear anything else.

I ran into someone, Tris realized belatedly, analyzing her memory of the impact and the sounds of the wind being knocked out of a person, scuffling as they tried to regain balance, and the clatter of things falling over when they were unable to. Her cheeks, once colored by exertion were now red with mortification, guilt and shame.

In the past when others had picked on her or she found herself in the wrong, she'd used anger as a defense mechanism and it was still her first instinct. Tris's temper boiled to the surface, and she wondered spitefully why someone would be so stupid to stand just on the other side of a corner like that where anyone could walk into them, but she realized from experience that this was her anger talking, and this was no one's fault but her own for being so careless.

Quickly the mage regained control, breathing meditatively to suppress the telltale miniature lightnings that sprouted from her eyes and hair whenever she became enraged. I'm going to have to apologize for this, aren't I? Tris thought. I hate apologizing.

"Gods, you practically flew head first into the ground! Are you alright, down there?" Someone asked. At first she thought they might be talking to her, but as Tris sat up stiffly and fumbled to right her glasses, she realized the voice was speaking to someone else.

There was a groan and then a dismissive response of, "Yes, yes," followed by the rustling of clothes and pressing against the ground as if the fellow were trying to sit up. Not a second later and there was a thump as he hurriedly lay himself back on the ground and said, "Oh. No, actually. I think I'll lie here a minute more before attempting to right myself," with a strain-filled voice.

"Vertigo?" the questioner supplied.

"Quite," the victim said morosely.

You've got to be kidding me, Tris thought with a scowl, recognizing her victim's voice. Sitting up, her world was a blurry mess of fuzzed-out color as she readjusted her spectacles attempting to bring the world into focus again. Hurriedly she blinked until her sight seemed to be working properly and looked up, only to find some complete stranger invading her field of view.

He was rather short for a man, perhaps about Niko's height or an inch shorter, she could tell that by the way he didn't have to fold himself in half so she wouldn't break her neck looking up at him. He was rather handsome with long, wavy dark blond hair tied away from his face and a short beard circling his mouth, looking to be in his mid-thirties. His clothes were well-made and understatedly stylish.

"And you there, Mistress, are you mad?" the man indignantly, brows furrowed expressively. His voice had a very enthusiastic ring to it, as if whatever he said would carry that extra bit of drama. "What were you thinking dashing around a blind corner like that?"

I was thinking no one would be dumb enough to stand directly on the other side of it where anyone could just walk into them by accident, she thought cuttingly, but immediately felt horrible and held her tongue. This was her fault, not this man's, she could admit that much. And oh, Gods, everyone who saw me, she realized, the idea horrifying her. She hated to look the fool, to be the one in the didn't matter that she didn't know anyone on the street, they'd all seen her shameful spill and assault on a bystander, no matter how unintentional. No doubt they were judging her, thinking the same things she would in their stead, that she was rude and inconsiderate for being so careless. She couldn't imagine the outrage she'd feel if the same had happened to her.

"I'm sorry, very sorry," she assured the man, resisting the urge to curl up in a corner and die.

I need to get out of here, Tris thought, trying to stand up on her ankle, which hurt a bit but seemed to hold her up well enough when she managed to right herself in a fluster of skirts. Especially if the man on the ground behind her accuser was who she really hoped he wasn't.

"Geo, are you speaking with what hit me?" the drawl voice piped up behind the man.

"Quite right I am, Heinz," the blond man answered. It was spoken in the sort of exasperated humor that one uses with one's close friends. "Now be quiet and lay there like a proper invalid while I handle the girl," he commanded.

Heinz—because it just would be Heinz—sat up slowly from the ground against his friend's command, rubbing one knee as if perhaps it had underwent a similar experience as Tris's wrist and ankle. The man looked much as he had the day before, in clothing that was well-made and of good fabric, but more serviceable then anything else. His starkly black over robe was of the kind they wore in northern countries and made him appear melancholic and drab. She couldn't be sure if he'd had the bag, a large, worn leather thing with a strap that crossed his chest, but as she suspected it was his mage kit, it blazing silver as it did, she assumed he probably had even if she hadn't noticed it.

"You mean it wasn't an elephant?" he asked, frowning confusedly at thin air. The words were spoken groggily as if he weren't entirely aware of what was happening around him. Assuming he wasn't faking it for some reason, Tris must have really knocked him around in their accidental collision. She almost felt bad about that. The operable word being almost.

"No, a diminutive redhead," the other man corrected and offered Heinz, who seemed determined to stand no matter what his blond friend suggested, a hand up to his feet.

Tris responded with a glare, watching the man test his footing and brush the street dust from laying on the ground from his clothing. Not only was she compared to an elephant but now she was some kind of midget?

Sensing her temper rising, the mage had to tell herself to take a breath. It doesn't matter, Tris, she thought to herself, just apologize and leave. Just spit out a hasty "I'm sorry," bob one of your infamously terrible curtsies, and scamper as far away as you possibly can before your face surpasses your hair for being the reddest thing on her head and maybe start spitting lightning and biting people's heads off. Just say you're sorry and you'll be done, that's all anyone can ask of you.

Ready to initiate this plan, Tris opened her mouth to speak but before a sound came out Heinz finally looked up from dusting himself off to see his accoster and unfortunately he recognized her immediately.

"Oh, it's Mistress Trisana," he said in a mild, cheerful voice that shattered something in Tris's brain, so bizarrely incongruous was it to the situation, "I should have known."

Tris scowled without even thinking. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

Heinz made an inquiring face as if it should have been obvious to her. "Well, you are a redhead."

She blinked. Tris didn't even know what to say to that. Instead of trying to figure out the snarl that must have been Heinz's thought process, she addressed another issue. "And I prefer to just be called Tris. I believe I told you already," she spat through gritted teeth, even though Tris knew she really ought to be getting on with that apology. But what could she say? Heinz just really brought the vinegar out in her.

"Did you?" he said, irises at the corners of his eyes as if consulting his memory. After a moment he shook his head, dismissing the issue. "Have you read the books yet?" he said, changing the subject.

"No!" she snapped indignantly, crossing her arms as she glared at him. "I do have other responsibilities, you know. I haven't time to complete two books in one day," the mage said waspishly before pushing her glasses up with a jab of one finger. The effect was to imply that obviously he didn't know anything even approaching responsibility, if he had the nerve to ask such a question.

"Oh, yes, of course. Couldn't possibly have had the time yet," he agreed, apparently unconcerned by the implied insult imbedded within the outburst. "But do tell me the moment you do."

Tris ground her teeth angrily. She really could not believe this. "You're the one who came up with that ridiculous arrangement," she spat uncharitably. "I had nothing to do with the matter, so what makes you think I have any intention of even reading those books?"

"What?" he raised his eyebrows in innocent confusion. "Who buys books they have no intention of reading? That would be quite peculiar of you." He said this as if she was somehow the strange one here when it was clearly the other way around.

Smoke was practically coming out of her nostrils.

"Heinz! Introduce me to your friend, won't you?" the other man suddenly interjected a little too enthusiastically, almost physically stepping in between them as he drew forward. No doubt his intention was to stop Tris from committing assault on the other mage.

"Oh, certainly," Heinz said apologetically. "Geoffrey, I was introduced to Mistress Trisana just yesterday by Master Nelsin. She is a frequent patron of his. Trisana, this is Geoffrey Crato, Master Cartographer, surveyor, and owner of this establishment behind us."

She was about to object to once again being called 'Trisana' after just asking him not to (obviously this was intended harassment!), but the man, Geoffrey, gave her a sweeping bow over her hand and kissed the air above it. Tris's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she watched him perform the deed, forcing herself not to yank her hand from his out of sheer surprise.

"Pleased to meet you, Mistress. A friend of Heinz is a friend of mine," he said sincerely, and bizarrely it felt respectful rather than sarcastic or sleazy. Tris starred down her long nose at him for a moment, uncertain what she ought to say. People didn't do this to her. To Sandry, yes, but not to her. Even completely polite people rarely treated her like a 'maiden' rather then just a stranger who happened to be female.

Eventually she grudgingly said, "Pleased to meet you," not at all certain she was. Retrospectively she wished she'd thought to say something more insulting, but she'd been caught off guard and for some reason her mind immediately supplied her mouth with something polite. Or maybe not, it wasn't this man's fault his friend was an ass. Not a second later it occurred to Tris to wonder that she was suddenly seen as Heinz's friend when she didn't even like him.

As Tris was turning this around in her head, the situation abruptly morphed from a confrontation to a friendly interaction before her eyes as Heinz turned to Geoffrey and conversationally said, "Trisana just returned from studying at Lightsbridge, or so she said yesterday to Master Nelsin."

Geoffrey raised his eyebrows excitedly as he regarded her, rising from her hand. "Did you really?"

Tris narrowed her eyes in suspicion—what was going on here?—but nodded reluctantly to the question, mostly because she couldn't think of anything else to do.

Geoffrey exclaimed, "How wonderful! I studied there—not magic, I'm no mage—but surveying." He rubbed his goateed chin thoughtfully. "A complicated business, surveying. Is Master Earthspike still teaching Geology? I used to hate his classes, he was so exacting, but nowadays I look back on those lectures fondly, even though they were constantly interrupted by 'Crato! Pay attention!'"

Geoffrey laughed at this reminiscence and Tris found herself inwardly smirking as she pictured Master Earthspike, a strict, solid, middle-aged man, stopping mid-sentence in a lecture to thunder just that at a younger version of the man before her, slumped over a desk. She'd seen it happen often enough to her fellow classmates.

"Yes, I had a few of his classes," Tris admitted guardedly, pushing her spectacles up her nose even though they didn't need it. She was utterly bewildered at the speed with which she'd suddenly been drawn into a conversation with someone she didn't even know, practically against her will. It made her feel nervous. Even people who didn't know who she was usually took one look at her sharp expression, plump figure and unfriendly gaze and decided they'd rather talk with someone else. Not to mention she could have injured this man's friend and wasn't exactly acting respectfully about it.

Tris regarded Heinz, certain there must be some kind of subterfuge going on here, though for what purpose she did not know. No one ever wanted to talk to her, and they especially wouldn't after what just happened. Heinz, however, remained as annoyingly impenetrable as ever, his neutrally gloomy expression could be anything from a cunning facade to the truth. She instinctively leaned toward the former, but admitted she had no evidence other than a gut feeling to prove it.

I am so confused, she thought.

"What did you think of him?" Geoffrey asked with seeming genuine interest.

"I liked him," she answered Geoffrey slowly as she kept an eye on the other mage. "He knew what he was talking about, and he treated all the students fairly."

"That he did, that he did," Geoffrey nodded agreement. "Those were good times, yelling and all. And there was a lot of yelling, from Master Earthspike, at least." The man brought a finger to his chin as he got a thoughtful look in his eyes and said, "It feels somehow that all the teachers did a great deal of yelling at me, actually….am I remembering that correctly, Heinz?"

"I really couldn't say."

"Oh, right," Geoffrey said. "I was already working in the geology department. We didn't even know each other then. Besides, you were taking all those language classes. You wouldn't catch me dead in one of those!"

A pulse of realization swept through Tris's nerves. She rounded on Heinz, propping her fists on her hips. "Wait a minute, you went to Lightsbridge?" she glared up at him through her brass spectacles. "Why didn't you say so yesterday when you found out I had?" Tris vehemently demanded.

Heinz looked confused. "Should I have?"

Tris narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes!" she snapped, barely aware of what she was saying, just feeling a slight panic coming on.

She hardly even knew why she was angry, she just felt, well, betrayed somehow. She'd been operating under the assumption that Heinz had gone to some other University then her own and now she found out he might have been walking the halls the same time she'd been there? Gods, Tris mentally shuddered, I could have traipsed right past him going to class at any point back then, and everyone there basically knows my identity now. I'm on more dangerous ground then I thought.

"You always seem to have outraged people following you, Heinz," remarked Geoffrey, thoughtfully. "It must have something to do with your social skills."

"Eh? What's wrong with them?" Heinz asked innocently.

His friend shrugged. "Well, I'm sure I don't know, but when redheaded spitfires run over you and start firing off accusations, it gets a fellow to wondering what you've done to warrant it from her."

"I haven't done anything that I'm aware of," was Heinz's response.

"You can't be serious!" Tris interjected, her fists snapping to her hips and she glared balefully from behind her glasses. "If you haven't done anything then what do you call yesterday's little fiasco?"

"Fiasco? I'm certain I have no idea what you mean," he told her, but leaned in as if interested to hear what kind of story she was about to come up with. It pissed her off.

"That bet! After you practically stalked me in the bookstore, acting like a know-it-all whenever I pulled out a book, you got all offended when I expressed my doubts and then made that ridiculous offer to pay for my books if I didn't like them but force me to read one of your choice if I did!"

"What? Really, Heinz, again?" Geoffrey asked his friend with a disapprovingly raised brow. Ha! So he was a serial bookstore stalker, was he? She ought to have suspected he was a multiple offender, a know-it-all like him could be nothing else.

Heinz appeared quite taken aback at her passionately negative feelings. As if he didn't already know how she felt! He seemed to be a pretty good liar in her estimation. "Well, it sounds quite horrible when you put it that way…" he admitted. He appeared shameless in the face of his companion's frown, merely surprised at her interpretation of events.

"Yes, it was, and it's put me in a bad mood ever since," she snapped.

"We can see that," Geoffrey deadpanned. By the way he was looking at her, he didn't seem to have a high opinion of the weather mage anymore, despite the fact that he seemed to be sympathetic to her claims of harassment. Fine, Tris didn't care, she didn't need people to like her she just needed them to get out of her way.

"Then I must apologize," Heinz said and bobbed his head in a short but respectful approximation of a bow.

This drew Tris back a moment. She'd expected him to get angry and start a shouting contest with her. An argument was something she could win. An apology was, well, somehow it was a real disappointment. "Good," she finally said, her sharp nose in the air.

"I meant no disrespect, Mistress."

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't. And for the last time, it's Tris!"

"Tris, yes, of course," he said too agreeably.

She narrowed an eye at him, pushing her brass glasses up her nose with a jerk. "So you'll drop this silly bet business?"

"Oh, hmm…" Heinz trailed off in consideration, appearing very reluctant. She really couldn't imagine why. She was saving him money and hassle. Tris really couldn't imagine what brought him to make such an overture in the first place.

"Well?" Tris demanded, her arms crossed in front of her as she tapped her toe expectantly.

"If you really don't want to read anything I suggest to you, then I suppose I can't force the issue," he said, sounding very disappointed. Tris rolled her eyes. That was as close to a retraction as she would probably get.

"Excellent," she snapped. "I'm glad that's settled. I'll be going now," she said, about to storm off leaving the two men to whatever they'd been doing before she interrupted them so unceremoniously. She stalked two steps before remembering something. "Oh, and I apologize for running into you, it was very rude of me," she bit out, bent into a jerky curtsy, before turning on her heels and strutting off down the street as fast as she could.

As she turned another corner in a fury one of the breezes that followed her like a trained dog caught the beginning of their renewed conversation.

"Jeez, touchy lady," remarked Geo's disembodied voice.

"Do you know? She professed to hating Romances yesterday. I was quite looking forward to her expression when the book I chose for her turned out to be one," Heinz's voice chimed in mournfully.

Geoffrey's laughter rang clear as a bell along the wind's path. "You're a masochist," the other man informed him.

Tris scowled and batted the conversation away. Bastard, he would have chosen a romance novel. She felt a sense of deja vu when she thought to herself that she didn't want anything to do with that Heinz ever again.

[Hopeless]

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