Expect nothing; live frugally on surprise.
~Alice Walker
I awaken slowly, what must be hours later, and immediately start coughing again. I notice, through a haze of dizziness, that I’m lying on a tiled mosaic path, in some sort of garden, and that birds are singing, and sweet smells are in the air. I double up until the spasms pass, then gasp weakly for breath, as tired as though I’d run ten miles from the wild hunt. After a moment, I realize I’m staring at the hem of a white robe, and roll over on my back to view the rest of this person.
He is very tall (I mentally grumble at my own shortness), and slim. Reminds me of a ferret or weasel or some other long, skinny, sneaky forest creature. I then reprimand myself for letting my bad mood influence my opinions. He looks to have Elvish blood in him, his ears being slightly canted, and his eyes... “You’re the old man from Beryl!” I gasp out in shock, and immediately set off into another round of coughing. A faint rustle of robes, and he’s kneeling beside me, all worry and solicitous concern.
“Oh, Light, I think that does was a bit too stiff. Are you well, girl?” He reaches out a hand to steady me and help me up. I promptly flinch away and aim a hard kick. He dodges with surprising speed and frowns at me. His face seems surprisingly young, for a voice sounding so...educated...so old.
“Oh, shut up!” I snarl, dragging myself up, with the aid of a marble bench. He looks vaguely shocked at that; I suppose not many people tell him outright to close his mouth. “Who are you?” I demand, with another cough. “Where am I? And more importantly, why the hell did you kidnap me and bring me here?”
His expression turns slightly hurt. “You needn’t sound so offended over it. This a great oppotunity, and--”
“Like hell it is!” I snap, my tone filled with disbelief. “Opportunity? You damn well assaulted me to get me here! Why? Dammit, I want some answers, not some spiel about how grateful I should be!”
He frowns unhappily. “Really, I thought you’d be happy to be here. Haven’t you ever heard of New Thuban?”
I throw myself down on the bench and cough a few more times, fixing an angry glare on him. “No. I ain’t from around here, anyhow.”
“I’ve realized that,” he replies dryly. “I am Ultimus Thubanus Morkellion--”
“That’s quite a mouthful,” I mutter, then grudgingly silence myself under that dark blue gaze.
“Sage of New Thuban, a city famed throughout this worlds-realm. And I brought you here because you are a shapeshifter and clearly possess other magic. Therefore, I am offering you an apprenticeship.”
“Hell, no!” I rejoin, leaping to my feet. “I’m not apprenticing myself to nobody, not for anything! I happen to cherish what little freedom I have, and you are not going to take that away from me! I ain’t swearing myself into any service to anyone.” I snort derisively, then falter upon meeting his eyes.
“If you’re quite finished?” he asks delicately, then proceeds when I sit down again, albeit rather sullenly. “If you had let me continue, Rois Melinor--”
“How do you know my name?” I interrupt. “Damn, how much about me do you know? I’m feeling less secure every minute here!”
His calm remains unruffled. “I took some time to find out who you were,” he replies calmly. “Now, let’s try this again. If you had let me continue, Miss, I would have been able to tell you that without apprenticing yourself to someone for magical training, then you will lose control of your abilities or will be unable to make use of them. And, judging by the way you looked when you walked into Beryl five days ago, you certainly hadn’t been making good use of your talents.”
“I’d only just found out about them,” I mutter sulkily. He nods slightly, acknowledging my point.
“I was unsure as to that,” he admits. “But it only shows that you are very raw in your talents, and could certainly use a bit of training. Agreed?” I nod slowly, grudgingly, and he continues. “Very well. I am glad we are seeing eye to eye.” I stifle another derisive snort. Eye to eye indeed! “And you are a shapeshifter, correct?” I nod again, just as unwillingly as before. “Then, you see, we can help you here,” he says earnestly. “To control both your magic and your shapeshifting, you see.” I nod again, cursing myself as a gullible fool, but I can’t help wanting to believe him. “So,” he eyes me hopefully, “will you stay?”
“I’ll think about it,” I mumble, hoping that will put him off. No such luck.
“Then will you at least stay the night to consider?” he asks. I draw breath to refuse as he adds, “I know you were planning to leave Beryl today anyway.”
I let out the breath, slowly, forced to consider that point. After a long moment, I slowly nod.
He looks annoyingly pleased. “Excellent! Just this way now, Rois, and...”
I follow with a shrug and a sigh, unable to help but think, Gods, Rois, what are you getting yourself into now?