Chapter Two

Dara

My unusual entry to the Guild had its benefits, chief among them the chance to put away my things and have a few moments to acclimate before I would be tossed into the commotion of chores, lessons, and finding my place within the hierarchy of apprentices. The latter, I quickly discovered, came first.

The girls' dormitory was spare, with unadorned wooden walls and a low timber ceiling. There were two beds on each side of the room, each with a chest at the foot of the bed to put possessions in and a table by the bed to hold a candle and toiletries.

I noticed there was also a tall wardrobe by one bed, currently being tidied by a tall girl with golden-blonde hair hanging down to her waist. She was thin as a reed, and yet utterly ungraceful in her movements. Even though she was the only one currently in the room, it still took her several moments to notice she was no longer alone.

"And you'd be the last apprentice for the year, right?" she said, barely sparing a glance in my direction.

I nodded. "Yes, I was just sworn in."

She stopped and looked at me. "You took the Oath already? But... but there was no ceremony!"

Ah, so my entry was as unusual as Mother and Guilliam imagined, then. "No, Master Vandry took me straight to the Guildmaster."

She shook her head. "Oh. Vandry. Yes, that would explain things. One can see why he teaches. After all, it's not as if he'd be easily hired."

Yes, he was absent-minded, I wanted to say, but one doesn't become a Master without some evidence of talent. But one look at her told me that saying anything of the sort was futile. I was already beginning to earnestly dislike this girl, and we hadn't even truly met yet.

I knelt, opened my chest and started laying in my things. I could see that there wouldn't be room for everything my mother sent with me. Which did make me wonder about that wardrobe.

I stood, crossed the room, and introduced myself properly to her.

"Trader? What does your family trade in?" She asked, by way of reply.

"Cloth. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she lied. "My name is Kailyn. Kailyn Jewelsmith."

She emphasized the last bit, as if I couldn't tell on my own that a jeweler's daughter outranked the child of a cloth merchant. Not that it would matter much to her success as a scribe, although judging from the wardrobe, she'd already managed to force the guild to make some concessions.

I suddenly wished I were the child of a Peer, just to see how the girl would react.

Still... I looked from my chest to the wardrobe. It couldn't hurt to ask, could it?

Kailyn watched my eyes and broke into a calculated grin. "No, I'm afraid not. I mean, if I did, I'd have to let *everyone* share it. Besides..." she broke off long enough to open the doors, "as you can see, it's already quite full."

Which it was. Apprentices had uniforms, and set hours. I couldn't imagine where she was going to find time to wear even a quarter of all that frippery. Yet even then, there was a part of me that pitied her. Money could buy her an apprentice's contract, but there was no guarantee she would succeed at it. Fate had birthed her out of her family's caste and into the unknown, the least she could do was bring a wardrobe full of armor.

I resolved, right then, to send half of the things Mother had packed back, with a note saying I wouldn't need it. I only hoped she would understand why.

~~*~~

I was soon to discover that I was one of seven apprentices for the year, three male and four female. I was first set sharpening quills with one of the other girls, this one lacking both the haughtiness and fashion-forwardness of a Kailyn Jewelsmith. Her skin was nearly as pale as mine and her hair as poker-straight, but she was a bit shorter than I, with pale brown hair, deep blue eyes, and a certain rounded pudginess to her cheeks. I also noticed that her hands were already deeply stained with ink.

She caught me looking at them and smiled, with an assurance I could only envy. "I'm Kuri Scrivner," she said, glancing at the ink-stains, "I've been at this quite a long time."

I caught the droll tone and smiled. "Since you were born, I'd imagine."

"However did you guess that?" she returned, with a perfectly straight face.

At that, we both started laughing loud enough for Master Vandry to look over in disapproval and shush us.

We bent over our task with the proper respect after that, but that didn't stop Kuri from whispering at me the first chance she got.

"Master Vandry is somewhat eccentric, but he's really very good. Our other Master, Thalia-- you'll meet her later-- she criticizes him for his penmanship. Openly, no less!" she broke off, scandalized.

"But wait until you see his illuminations!" she added. "They're absolutely brilliant. Would that I'll ever learn to do as well."

"Yours are lovely, Kuri. Quit punishing yourself. You'll leave Master Thalia with nothing to do!" interrupted a sly, but confident voice.

I looked over at the speaker, and immediately felt the blood rush to my face. The boy was absolutely stunning. I judged him to be perhaps two or three years older than both Kuri and I, since he had the full body of a man grown. He also had reddish-brown hair that gleamed in the light, and green eyes that sparkled.

"Oh, nonsense! Everyone knows yours are the envy of us all, Marcus!" Kuri tittered nervously.

I glanced at her and noticed that my cheeks weren't the only ones to be red as a brand. Her eyes were wide, and it seemed she'd already forgotten I was there.

The boy she'd called Marcus hadn't failed to notice, though. He smiled to me and gave me a gallant bow. "Marcus Fletcher, at your service."

Kuri had gone very still, watching us. At twelve, I was horribly unsophisticated about romance, but I knew enough to realize I was making a friend in Kuri, and that she clearly had designs on him.

I nodded back and quickly introduced myself. Then, I realized something else. "Fletch-making is a Shaper skill, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. My father wanted something a bit better for his second son."

Did I miss my guess, or was there some bitterness behind that?

"Marcus is the eldest of the apprentices," Kuri cut in. "He takes his journeyman tests in two years. His work is the best the Masters have seen in some time, Master Vandry says!"

To his credit, he blushed. "Kuri is a generous girl."

He picked up our basket of sharpened quills, and leaned in closer. "There's a bard from the Civitas playing in the pub this weekend. I hope you'll both come."

He winked, and walked away.

I looked at Kuri. "The pub? How in the world are we supposed to go there? That's off-limits, I'm sure!"

"For us, yes. But he'll find a way for us to sneak out, he always does."

Which worried me, but I chose not to press it. It was worth taking some risks to fit in, wasn't it?

She sighed. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"

I nodded carefully. "He is. He reminds me a lot of Mydry, my brother. Makes me miss home."

"Oh! Gosh, yes, it's your first day here, after all. It's tough at first."

Sympathy and relief, and probably more of the latter. From then on, Kuri and I became steadfast friends.

~~*~~

Dinner was a fairly involved affair, which involved all of the apprentices being drafted as extra help for the cook. We set the places, helped slice vegetables and stir the pots, and brought food to the Masters and the Journeymen– some of whom were resident, but most were visiting. Their dining hall was grand, with beautiful, small colored-glass panels like my mind had imagined for the Guild. (I learned that this was also the place where visiting Nobility would be received in honor.)

After the Masters and Journeymen dined, then and only then would we be permitted to ladle food in our own bowls and sit around the long table in one corner of the kitchen. There, I finally met the remaining apprentices.

The girls sat on one side, with Kailyn claiming both the best bowl and pride of place in the center. Kuri sat next to her on one side, and I pulled up a stool at the end. On Kailyn's other side was the fourth girl, Dorcas Farmer, with wide eyes, a pug-like nose, and a very sturdy build. She looked as though she could easily lift the table and all of us with very little effort, and yet for all her strength, she seemed surprisingly delicate. She pushed her food around and kept looking nervously at Kailyn out of the corner of her eye.

One of the boys spent most of the meal watching Dorcas, something I found interesting since she didn't look up from her bowl enough to even realize he was there, let alone that he was paying such close attention to her. His name was Francis, probably the most well-born of all of us, as his father was Namer-caste, a Judge. He was a short, chubby boy, with a very red face and burnished-gold ringlets too short to be contained in a queue. Kailyn ignored him, which told me she valued the common standards of beauty even more highly than she valued pure wealth and status.

The other boy, sitting to the other side of Marcus, was such a direct contrast to Francis that I had to lift my napkin to cover a smile. In the hands of a sculptor, they would make quite marvelous bookends!

Vorthos Cartwright was so thin, his apprentice's robe hung on him like a shroud. His arms and legs were long and gawky, yet his long fingers were supple and he ate with unusual grace. His hair was a sort of musty charcoal color, almost the same as my own, and tied back neatly with a leather thong. I might have found him compelling, were it not for his expression– his mouth was twisted in a near-constant sneer, leaving little doubt that he found reason to view the rest of us as lesser beings. With one, rather predictable, exception. Kailyn.

That evening's dinner was to set the pattern for the time to come. Marcus was our entertainer, the one loved by all for his ability to find something to make us laugh, and to tell the latest anecdotes gleaned from places to which I would be afraid to ever venture. My comment to Kuri this morning was spot-on after all, Marcus was very much like Mydry.

When Marcus wasn't spinning a tale, Kailyn held court with her fashionable drawl, letting us know everything the Truly Important People considered worth doing and wearing, and detailing precisely what was wrong with the city.

Francis, bless him, was the only one willing to ever dare to disagree with or even question Kailyn's opinions. Which she usually ignored with a tight, angry smile. She may look down on him for his appearance, but she feared his status too much to argue with him.

Vorthos, on the other hand, clearly feared no one. He made it clear, to all who could possibly wonder, that he really did know everything. He was a repository of facts both fantastic and mundane, all of which he was more than willing to share with us, especially if it could correct the wrong assumptions offered by one of the rest of us. (Although the occasional amused grin on Marcus' face made me wonder if what Vorthos didn't know, he simply made up.)

Very often the night would degenerate into a debate between Vorthos and Francis, with Kailyn looking bored, and Kuri tossing in the odd comment, only to be battered back by Vorthos. I tried to keep out of it, and Dorcas looked at her stew. If it went on long enough, someone would prevail on Marcus to rescue us with a tale or a song.

Eventually, Cook would toss us out so the kitchen could be cleaned, and we would be left to finish up the day's chores before retiring for bed.

The first night was hell. I lay in my bed and wept into the pillow, trying not to wake the others with my sniffling. None of the others stirred, but when I woke in the morning, there was a warm cloth on my bedside table, smelling faintly of herbs. No one spoke of it, but Dorcas smiled at me shyly as we went down to breakfast.

By the time the week was up, it was much better. I'd found a rhythm in the chores, and was already learning the rudiments of proper writing. Beak-nosed, hawk-faced Master Thalia instructed us in the morning, and she was a stern taskmistress; utterly unafraid to strike us with a birch rod if we were lazy, insolent, or merely slow. The latter was a frequent occurrence, as Master Thalia focused on the precision of our penmanship, and was unforgiving in her demands. Several of the apprentices despised her for it, but while I was deathly afraid of her and her "correcting stick," I never stopped trying to match the precision she expected. After all, the clients we would have someday would expect no less.

Afternoons were far less tense, as we were watched over by Master Vandry. Vandry would often set us to doing chores as he worked on his own pieces, which, if we were daring and fortunate enough to contrive a peek at, were invariably as beautiful as Kuri told me they would be. Not only did he have a mastery of stroke, his illuminations blazed with gilding and brilliant color. Birds no larger than the length of an eyelash darted from behind his curves, and whole orchards bloomed around letter-stems. I think I first began to understand what mastery really meant when I saw Vandry's work. In a small square, around the black shape of a letter, he would conjure a world.

But while he created it, he would be lost in it. He didn't care who worked with whom, so long as the work was done. Kuri and I would invariably pair, Marcus would flit between us and Kailyn, and Francis, Dorcas, and Vorthos worked alone. Sometimes the days were full of gaiety– thanks, always, to Marcus. Vorthos would bend over his work and glare until we were quiet, and Francis would make surreptitious glaces toward Dorcas.

Some afternoons Vandry would sit with us and show us the beginnings of the rapidly fading art of illumination, something he said no printer could ever truly replace. In truth, those were my favorite times, for although I was already learning to love the simple joy of shaping letters, an illuminator had a tremendous range of creativity. Master Thalia pronounced by attempts at illumination "fanciful," but Vandry would nod and smile, finally bestowing his whole attention on me, if only for a brief moment.

Finally, the first week was over. We were permitted to go to market and listen to players or speakers in the central square, if our chores were done, but we were expected in bed by nightfall.

Marcus, of course, had other plans.

Everyone got ready for bed, as usual, and that confused me. I quietly sidled up to Kuri's bed, and whispered to her in the dark.

"What's happening? I thought we were going out?"

She looked around nervously. "We are. Didn't you hide clothes under your sheets?"

"Hide... what? No! Kuri, you didn't tell me to do that!"

She groaned. "I forgot. I'm sorry. See if you can sneak them out of your trunk. But be careful, Master Thalia probably isn't asleep yet."

Kailyn sat up in bed and looked over. "Hush, you ninnies!" she hissed. "I am going out, and I'm not going to stand for you fools stopping me. Now, Be. Quiet."

Kuri stiffened and just shook her head at me, before pulling the blankets over her head. I slunk away to my bed, caught between trying to sneak out a presentable outfit without being caught and just forgetting the whole thing. If Kuri was really my friend, wouldn't she tell me all about this?

Besides, Master Thalia not only looked like a bird, she slept like one too. The slightest movements woke her, probably why she was chosen as our teacher and chaperone in the first place. The boys were lucky to have Vandry, he likely slept like a rock.

I froze by the bed for what seemed like an eternity before deciding that whatever the girls were doing, I really didn't want to miss it. Thankfully, the hinges on my chest were kept well oiled, and I had one other advantage– I'd grown up handling cloth. I didn't have to see my garments to choose them. I was also blessed that most of my clothing was made of the odd bits of cloth that my parents got on discount. I had no multiple copies of the same outfit in different colors, unlike Kailyn, who seemed to have a rainbow of choices of each gown.

Finally, picking something that was sturdy and wouldn't wrinkle, I shoved it and my undergarments beneath my sheets and waited. After about half an hour, Kailyn carefully rose from her bed and crept toward the door. She was not only the lightest apprentice, but she clearly had practice, since not even a single floorboard creaked under her weight.

She opened the door quietly and left, returning after only a couple of minutes. "All right," she whispered loudly, "it's all clear. Dorcas, you took care of Master Thalia, right?"

Dorcas sat up and nodded. "Chamomile and scullcap. Not as good as valerian, but she'd really taste that."

Dorcas drugged a Master? True, Thalia seemed to single out Dorcas for punishment and criticism, but still. I found myself wishing someone would pull her out of Kailyn's orbit. What Kailyn didn't find worth befriending, she controlled.

Still, it was with considerable excitement that I changed into my clothes, brushed out my hair, and gathered in the center of the room with the other girls. We had to wait a bit for Kailyn, who not only wore fine clothes, but stopped to add makeup– something generally not permitted to girls our age. For about the thousandth time, I was jealous of her while trying very hard not to be.

Kailyn led us out of the room and over to the boys' dormitory, where the door opened soundlessly as we approached. Marcus, Vorthas, and Francis were waiting by the window, and Marcus was securing a knotted rope to the post that divided the room.

He held the rope to Vorthas, who took it and vanished over the side of the windowsill. Marcus followed right after him.

"Good grief," I whispered to Kuri, "we have to climb down a rope?"

She nodded, eyes alight with anticipation. "Yes, isn't it wonderful?"

I frowned. "Yeah, wonderful. I don't think my shoes were meant for rope-climbing, Kuri."

"Dara, where's your sense of adventure? You're such a spoilsport!"

I stood gaping at her as she took the rope from Marcus and headed out the window.

Kailyn and Dorcas followed, and I again debated the wisdom of this whole thing. Especially since my one friend didn't seem to want me to go.

Francis nudged me and handed me the rope. "She's not talking straight. All she can see is Marcus. Besides, the rope isn't that hard. I mean, if I can do it, I'm sure you can too."

For a pudgy thirteen year old, Francis had wisdom beyond his years. I grinned at him and grabbed the rope.

Really, it wasn't that bad, since we were only one story up. My smooth-bottomed shoes slipped on the rope a couple of times, and I tried in vain not to look down as the ground swayed under my feet, but my feet touched bottom in no time at all, and Marcus actually hugged me when I landed.

I tried not to let that affect me, since Kuri was glaring daggers at me, but I couldn't help it. Marcus had that effect on people– girls, boys, our teachers, everyone. I felt lighter than air as I watched Francis climb down the rope. I stayed to make sure he landed safely, and we rushed to catch up with the others.

Our destination was a pub called The Pink Duck, a place Marcus clearly knew well. A dozen people made a point of coming over to just to see him as he walked in. The men– some his age, some a lot older– slapped him on the back, and several women came over to coo a hello in his ear.

One of them also noticed us, and made a point of asking "So, who are your friends?"

"To-be Master Scribes of Her Majesty's Court," Marcus said with a flourish, introducing each of us in turn.

A couple of the younger men applauded, and one tried to pinch me on the bum. I yelped, and both Kailyn and Kuri snickered.

Fine, then, to hell with them. I grabbed Francis and went to find a table. I tried to talk to him, but it was hard to hear over the noise, so eventually I just gave up and started watching the room.

The Duck had a fairly young clientele, I could identify several as older apprentices in other guilds, and a few as Journeymen. But there were seedier characters aplenty, gaming with the guildsmen on the rough, wooden tables. Tavern wenches with trays of ale jockeyed for position around overly made-up women with flounces and frills as both tried to get close to the tables.

Francis looked over and blushed as he asked me if this was my first pub, but thankfully (thanks to Mydry, actually!) I was able to say no. Last year I was allowed to go on caravan with my father and my brother, since it was the last chance I'd have before I joined the Guild, and Mydry made sure that while I was sheltered, I wasn't left completely naive.

Eventually, the rest of the group found their way to the table, and Marcus had even bought me a mug of ale. Kuri smiled at me as she sat down, and leaned over to ask me if I was having a good time.

What, after you've snubbed me all night? I wanted to ask, but just kept my mouth shut and nodded. It seemed that she and Kailyn had gotten into a competition to see who could flirt with Marcus more, so for the moment I supposed I was considered safe again.

A group of players started up in the middle of the room, and everyone started to clap and cheer. They were good, especially the tall, nimble man who danced while he played the flute, and in no time my feet were tapping and my head nodding, and the whole stupid fight forgotten.

The ale was sour, but warmed me from head to toe; and when a handsome, blond, well-muscled baker's apprentice grabbed me by the arm and whisked me into the center of the dancers, I didn't resist. Learning to dance was something else for which I had Mydry to thank, and I used that knowledge for all it was worth keeping up with him.

As we whirled by my table, I couldn't help but grin at the jealous look on Kailyn's face and the amused expression on Vorthos. For once I'd actually been noticed for something other than being the cautious one, and I loved every single second of it.

I danced with Karl (we traded names between the first and second set) for a good hour before we finally bowed to each other and I sank exhausted and exhilarated into my seat. I was just about to prod Francis to ask Dorcas to dance when the door of the tavern slammed open and four very dour-looking members of the City Watch stomped in.

The players looked over and just kept playing, for it was hardly unusual for the Watch to come into a tavern looking for one scofflaw or another, although the number was a bit strange.

When the guards spoke to the tavern owner and he pounded a mallet on the bar and yelled for attention, I knew this was something a bit more serious.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I please have your attention. Something dreadful has happened, and the watch needs to address the room."

The gruff-looking man sounded more formal than he probably ever had before, and our little group looked at each other with concern.

The leader of the Watch took the center of the room, where the players had been standing. "Thank you for your attention. There was an attack on Her Majesty's barge this evening. No, Queen Rociel was not aboard," he said quickly, as the room broke out in astonished gasps. "But Prince Serio has been kidnapped."

The room went crazy. People gasped, yelled, prayed to the Gods, even accused the Guard of incompetence before the leader shouted for silence. Prince Serio was the youngest child of our Queen, and only five years old. He looked like a little angel, and was much beloved of the people.

"The attackers came in numbers, and used fire to burn the barge. Many guard, and the Royal Nanny were slain. The vile kidnappers were wearing black, but several of them were said to have a red cloth masking their face. We are all searching for them now, and we ask that if any of you saw anything, report it to us immediately."

He paused for effect. "And we are also instituting an immediate curfew of the city. If you don't have information, you are to return to your homes at once to clear the streets for the search."

Dead silence. Then, complete cacophony. Chairs scraped, feet scrambled, and a few people already more than half into their cups protested. That simply got them cracked across the knee by one of the Guard and hauled bodily to the door.

Vorthos pounded the table with his mug. "We need to leave, now. They'll be waking the guild with this news, and they will find two empty dorms unless we make quick work of it."

Marcus nodded and jumped to his feet. "I know a back way."

Vorthos snickered. "Yes, I rather thought you might."

With that, we swept out the back door with a tide of others who also knew Marcus's not-so-secret exit. The streets were alive with people, some panicking but most held in check by the nearly omnipresent Guard.

Marcus waited until the Guardsman closest to us was looking the other way, then darted down a back alley that eventually connected up with the back of the guildhall. Vorthos fetched the rope, and the girls shimmied up first. With fear of being caught and sent home in disgrace replacing fear of the rope, getting back up went a lot quicker than going down had.

Kailyn rushed to the door and put her ear to it, then nodded quickly to us. Our teachers had not yet been roused. Thank Aes, the Guard thought to empty the taverns before spreading the word.

We were undressed and in our beds mere moments before we heard a commotion outside the door, and Master Thalia's voice raised in disagreement. "They've been in bed all night, Master Runion. I see no need to disrupt their sleep, it will only serve to render them inefficient at their chores."

We all heard the Guildmaster's deep resounding bass raised to answer her. "Thalia, there will be no chores. Not tomorrow, perhaps not until he's either returned to Her Majesty, or found. To do otherwise makes mock of this city's mourning."

With that, the door opened and light flooded in.

~~*~~

It would be a week and a half before the city would finally hear what really happened to little Prince Serio. Until then, the city virtually shut down. Business ground to a halt, and chores and lessons were suspended indefinitely at the Guild. People in the city took to wearing black, even though there was no formal declaration that Serio was dead, and that was easy enough for us to ape, since our normal apprentice's robes were black.

Still, the mood was grim, both inside and outside the Guild. Every day that dragged on, ending with the Guard returning empty-handed, made people more and more certain that the little Prince was with Aes. The Prince's plight subdued both my fellow apprentices and my teachers. Vandry seemed more alert, Thalia a shade (though only a shade) less snappish and critical, Kailyn less preening, and even Vorthos' customary sneer was diminished, if only in degree.

Kuri sought me out two days after the kidnapping.

"Dara, I was a shrew on Pub Night, I'm so sorry!"

"That's okay, really, it was nothing," I lied.

She smiled. "I'm so glad you can forgive me, I'm really, really sorry. I didn't think of how it was your first night and you weren't used to everything we do. Friends?"

"Friends." I smiled and let her hug me.

I saw Vorthos watching us out of the corner of my eye, and he just shook his head and smiled in that superior, sneering way. For once, though, I didn't take offense at it. He saw what I saw. He didn't believe her either.

Yet it was hard to stay angry. I needed a friend, and in truth, it was bloody awkward having all this tension with the closest thing to one that I had– especially during such a tense time for our city and our nation. But I'd taken Kuri's measure, and while she was a fun, happy-go-lucky person and a good ally to have under Master Thalia's eagle eye, there was about as much depth to her as a piece of parchment.

I shouldn't have been disappointed by that, but I was.

As the days crawled by, the tension only served to increase. On us, mostly because of our enforced inactivity. After a week, we were longing to get our quills back in ink again. On the guild, because the Queen had begun to issue reward proclamations for the safe return of her son, and while the proclamations were being tended to by printers, some of our best copyists were involved in writing up the fine details, should anyone come forward.

Finally, someone did. Someone must have, at least because halfway through the next week, there was finally a break for the Guard. They found the group of radicals who had engineered the kidnapping, and they made a very startling and saddening discovery. The kidnappers had indeed stolen a beautiful, blue-eyed, blond-haired child from the Royal Barge. They had not, however, kidnapped Prince Serio. Instead, they had only managed to thieve his decoy.

Which could only mean one thing, after all this time of thorough searching and city-wide curfews: the real Prince perished in the barge fire.

To suspect was one thing, to know was something else entirely. I know I cried for the loss of the little Prince, even though I knew as little of him as anyone else. Queen Rociel was a good woman, and a good monarch, and I could only imagine how she grieved to lose her littlest. (Kailyn, of course, insisted she'd not only seen the Prince go by in a parade, but that she'd actually been in the same room with him once. She cried for a day for "her poor little Prince" before Dorcas reminded her that sobbing would give her facial lines. After that, she was stoic as a soldier.)

The Queen's justice was fierce and immediate. The perpetrators that could be found were rounded up, executed by firing squad, and their heads mounted on spikes near the harbor as warning to anyone else who would even think of rising up against the throne. A statue was carved of Serio, and put in place of pride in the public garden nearest the Palace.

The usual crowd of questioners, rabble-rousers, and philosophers drained quickly out of their usual Market Square speaking haunts, and vanished into the streets. Philosophizing and debate, exported by fleeing luminaries of the fallen Longan Empire and a street art increasing in popularity, became permissible only for the Noble classes-- who took to it like ducks to water, gathering for long sessions of scholarly discussion in brightly lit salons across the finest sections of Estrelline.

For my fellow apprentices and I, life slowly drifted back to normal. Lessons were reinstated, and both Masters were unusually attentive as they scrambled to make up for lost time. Marcus' usual ebullience was dampened, since it was quickly obvious that it would be some time before we'd be able to sneak out the back window and attend any more nights at the Pink Duck. Although I suspected he still managed to find his own times to slip out, being far cleverer than the rest of us.

Life was hardest, perhaps, on Dorcas. Her large, farm-roughened hands had some difficulty with the precision drills even in the best of times, and she simply wilted under the pressure that a harried Master Thalia was placing on us now. It was a bright morning about three weeks later when she finally snapped.

"Do that again, Dorcas! Your P's look like malformed twigs!"

Dorcas dipped her quill and blotted it far too hastily. To her horror, a huge drop of ink splashed onto her page, swallowing up the offending letters.

*Smack!* Master Thalia's rod came down hard on Dorcas' wrists. "Clean up that mess you've made! For Formate's sake, child! Why in the world we ever agreed to take the contract of a sloppy, dung-for-brains farming girl I will never understand. Not until the end of my days!"

Dorcas pulled out a rag and started mopping up the page in her usual terrified silence, but Thalia's ranting clearly got to her. Tears started falling onto the page, soaking the already ink-stained paper.

This, of course, only served to enrage Master Thalia further, for if there was anything she despised more than ineptitude, it was any public showing of weakness.

Her hand went to her rod, and I swear, she raised it in slow motion. I barely even remember getting to my feet, but I couldn't abide seeing Dorcas abused any longer!

"Master Thalia, please stop!"

My hand flew to my mouth as soon as the words were out, and I saw the other apprentices staring at me in terrified astonishment. No one had ever stood up to Thalia before, not in anyone's memory.

She turned slowly, very slowly. "WHAT did you say to me, Dara Trader?"

"I... I... said to stop... please. Please stop, Master Thalia." I stammered incoherently.

Her eyes narrowed to a speck. "Yes, yes, that's what I thought I heard you say. But, of course, I wanted to be sure," she added, in mock sweetness.

"And now that I am sure, you may do all of the girls' chores, for the rest of the week, to give you some time to reconsider your ridiculous insubordination!"

Ugh. Well, it could be worse, I thought.

"Not only that, my pathetic little girl, but you can weed the garden, replace the kitchen drab for the week, and submit yourself, along with this other poor excuse for an apprentice, for a night spent on your knees. Perhaps Formate will forgive you, because it will be a cold night in winter before I ever do."

I merely stood there and blinked like the fool she accused me of being.

"Go, Trader. Go start in the garden, and take yourself out of my sight. And you, Farmer. Get rid of that sopping square of paper and begin again. You will be here until you get that right, and for your sake, I sincerely hope you do so before the dinner hour begins."

I stayed only long enough to see Dorcas wipe her eyes and scrabble for another sheet of paper before I backed out of the room, and ran the rest of the way to the garden.

~~*~~

I burst through the door into the enclosed courtyard we shared with the Cartographers' Guild next door, and sunk onto a bench, finally letting out my own tears of shame. I couldn't believe I did that, but worse, I couldn't believe she did that! Most of all, how could I possibly show my face in the Guild again, let alone graduate to become a Journeyman?

"Hey now, it can't be that bad!" said a strange, soft voice next to me.

I sniffled, wiped my eyes, and looked over to see a pretty girl in an ink-stained robe holding a basket full of root vegetables. She had honey-colored hair and too-large lips, and she was much taller than me, although she didn't look much older.

She dropped the basket next to me and passed me a cloth.

I wiped my face and apologized profusely for getting her cloth wet.

"It's nothing, really. I'm Cantalen, Cartographer's apprentice. And you are?"

"Dara Trader, apprentice scribe," I said through gulps of air.

She picked up the basket and plopped down on the bench next to me. "Well, it's good to meet you! I don't see anyone from your guild all that often, except for that cheerful red-haired boy."

I smiled in spite of myself. "Marcus. He gets around a lot."

"Yes, I'll say! But enough of that. Why are you crying?"

I just looked at her, and then it all poured out. Homesickness, pub night, us sneaking out, the tension since the Prince died, and what happened just now with Dorcas and Master Thalia. The only thing I held back was the conflicted feelings I had about Kuri. She was still enough of a friend that it felt wrong to be telling a perfect stranger my doubts about her. Even though I obviously wasn't afraid to tell the rest of it to a stranger!

She shuddered. "I've heard tell of Master Thalia. Apparently she's been scaring the daylights out of apprentices for a couple of decades now! I'm sorry you had to go through that, but you know, I think you were a brave girl for standing up to her like you did."

I smiled ruefully. "Brave, or just stupid? I feel stupid."

"Well, you shouldn't. I'm sure it's happened to Master Thalia before, and I'm sure it will happen again. If you're enough of a snit to your students, eventually someone has to stand up to you, don't they?"

"Well, when you put it that way!"

She smiled back, and looked around. "So why are you out here. Just hiding from the rest of them?"

I shook my head. "No, although I wish I could hide! I'm here to weed. Apparently I'm the gardener, and the scullery maid, and just about everything else for the week."

"A lot of work! Why don't I help you with the weeding, and make short work of at least one of those chores?"

Later, I'd feel surprised at how fast the task went, and how much fun I had with it. I liked Kuri, but Cantalen was the first person I really felt I could relate to. Her family were innkeepers, which made them Landwrights. Cantalen, like me, was the first person born out of caste in a large family. She also had a real sense of adventure, that thing everyone kept telling me I lacked.

By the end of the morning, we'd pledged to be friends, and to share adventures. Cantalen's plan was to visit all the places on the maps she helped make. At the time, anything away from the Guild of Scrivners sounded like a fine idea to me!

As I spent the night nearly bleeding from kneeling on the hard stone floor in front of the icon to Formate for so long, I couldn't help reflecting on blessings in disguise. Both Vorthos and Francis had looked at me with newfound respect as I served them dinner that night, and my outspokenness had gained me perhaps my first real friend.

Somehow, it made the chores all that much easier to bear.

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