Chapter Five, One Year Later

Dara

The next year was hard on my little group of apprentices, having lost not just one, but two members to unfavorable circumstances. Even Master Thalia was strangely subdued throughout the winter that followed Marcus and Kuri's exit. While I'd heard stories by now of her driving apprentices to tears, and a couple even to resign, even she had never lost two in the same year. The fact that Marcus was the star of the current crop of students and Kuri was competent only made it worse– it was one thing to cull those who couldn't cut it, but this was something else entirely, losing two pupils who seemingly could have succeeded. Both Masters blamed themselves for not seeing the reality behind Marcus' deceptions, as it was fairly simple to look like a prodigy as an apprentice if you were submitting a Journeyman's work!

More inconveniently for the rest of us, the Masters also blamed themselves for Kuri's loss, attributing it to a failure to chaperone their charges closely enough. This sat especially poorly on Kailyn, who was beginning to fill out her figure beautifully and pouted for months on end at being deprived of a suitable audience. Kuri and Marcus would have found a way, she argued, even with the supervision. For the first time I could remember, this earned her far more than a simple tap on the wrist from Master Thalia's birch rod. In fact, it turned out to be fairly late into the night when Kailyn came back up to the dormitory, with bandaged knees from a night spent keeping vigil in front of Formate's shrine.

Still, as the flowers bloomed and the weather warmed, we all began to feel it quite keenly. I'd like to think it bonded us closer together, but we squabbled just as much as usual, the only difference being the fact that most of it centered on the summer we were missing, and the fact that everyone in the whole City, clearly, must be enjoying themselves even more since we couldn't join them. Irrational, of course, but that was the way of it.

Early August brought a letter from Kuri, who had given birth to a son named Alexander, after her father. The Namer, surprisingly enough, divined Alexander as a Landwright, which we thought would nearly guarantee Kuri finding a wed-match with a farmer. So long, of course, as she could find one who didn't mind an educated wife. Did such a thing exist in the country, we wondered? (Which led a Journeyman from the far province of Volante to laugh uproariously at our Estrelline-centered elitism.)

By the time the summer of my fifteenth birthday drew to a close, the pressure was in earnest. The year had produced no potential apprentices found suitable to take Marcus and Kuri's places, and Guildmaster Runion expected all the more from the remaining five of us because of it. In addition, Vorthas was due to take his Journeyman's trials this year, almost definitely ensuring the loss of another apprentice by the end of the year– although this time to far more auspicious circumstances, since there was little doubt in anyone's mind that Vorthas would not only pass, but that he, at least, would have earned the title.

As the months grew colder, both Masters kept us in a fevered frenzy of effort, leaving us little time to be idle and even less time away from the Guildhall. Our regular weekly visits to Market (chaperoned, of course) were limited now to every other weekend, and a spell of cold, rainy weather left us unable to even manage that much. Despite the awful things that Marcus had done, we all felt the pain of his loss on those nights, for he'd always been there to step into the middle of fights with a song, or lift us out of the doldrums with a witty tale. I would have welcomed Vorthas' sarcasm by this point, but even that was a shadow of its former self as he was spending most of his time preparing for his new career. There was also the fact that, although he'd never admit it, he'd lost his edge to an enormous degree when his sparring partner was expelled.

All of it together made Cantalen's company, when we were able to find time for it, absolutely invaluable. She had also grown quite a bit in skill over the last year, and was being called upon to assist in the preparation of a couple of the Guild's more expansive map contracts. One excited her so much that she made a point of bringing me in just to see it.

"Dara, you have to see what we're working on, it's the most amazing thing," she said one morning as I was out gathering root vegetables in the garden.

"We've been commissioned by a Lady of the Vola to make a map of Meleket!"

I just looked at her with astonishment. "I didn't even know anyone had ever mapped lower Meleket! Well, at least, not anyone since before the Longan Empire fell."

"They haven't, that's the amazing thing! We're only working on the outer edges, the part we already know. Two of our Masters are going with Lady Di Santi and her entourage to bring back sketches of the rest. Come on, I'll show you!"

My eyes widened and I followed along gladly when she grabbed my hand and made for her Guild's back door. It was a most extraordinary thing, I knew that much even with my limited knowledge of history and geography. Meleket was a land out of legend, with its central river cutting a swathe of green through an otherwise arid desert. The land had once been a thriving empire of its own, with huge temples to a multitude of strange gods depicted in gold and jewels, and bearing the attributes of beasts. Its reign had been cut short by the military might of Alba Longina at its height, one of the great Emperors of which had been held in famous stories to have cut down the Meleketan leader, the Nysse, in the center of its largest city– installing a Longan military governorship which was both brutal and starkly efficient.

But it was not to last. Alba Longina was eventually undermined from within, as its Emperors and warrior priests increasingly came to disregard the counsel of the oracles of Sophia, goddess of wisdom, for the counsel of Jovah, god of thunder and war. When the legions embarked on what Sophia's oracles considered an ill-fated war with neighboring Duros, they withdrew to the port city of Sapientia, warning that the Emperor was sealing the Empire's doom. History shows that the oracles had the right of it, for Duros buckled but did not fall, and the military loss presaged an era of rising taxes and spreading disease. Within a generation, the greatest empire the world had ever known splintered into pieces. The city-states that resulted went to war against each other, and the Exalted of the Empire, the noblemen, philosophers, scholars, musicians and artists packed up and departed, looking for new shores upon which to spread their influence and ideas.

The first hospitable place they found, of course, was across the sea and over the mountains to the west, a land of people with five castes attributed to the five divine children of Aes, the Mother and Father of All, genderless and infinite, but oft-referred to by the people as a goddess. Creative fusion between the people of Aes and the fleeing luminaries of Alba Longina gave birth to Aethilia, and our city of Estrelline was its most glorious result. Of Alba Longina itself, only a few city-states weathered the tides of war, disease, and famine. Civitas Sapientia, with the cathedral of the oracles of Sophia perched on a spire near the harbor of its capital city, had long been the most prosperous among them.

Of the ancient land of Meleket, much was speculated but little was known. The Longans adored their forms but never truly understood their culture, and that was transmitted wholesale to we Aethilines along with our well-known appreciation for Longan art and philosophy. Exotic and highly-stylized, Meleketan-influenced styles of adornment and architecture were easy to find in Estrelline, but the land itself lie in ruin, lost to time and shrouded in mystery. Its outer edges and port cities were overrun by Duros, but in our time, none had penetrated further into an inner core said to be overrun with dangerous barbarian tribes. It was, therefore, a truly astonishing thing that someone– a Noblewoman, no less– was willing to brave the hazards and take a team deep into Meleket, determined to probe its secrets.

"Does the Lady have a large team?" I asked as Cantalen led the way through the kitchens and out into the Guild proper.

"Large enough, considering that the rest of the Vola thinks she's mad to even attempt this." Cantalen responded.

The Vola, named after the Longan word volo, "to mean," were a loose circle of Nobles fascinated by the study of philosophy. Aping Longan schools of old, they were said to gather in the sumptuous salons of the City's wealthiest and most famous, and recline upon long couches whilst arguing the meaning of life. People of my family's level in society considered them idle and ridiculous, at the same time succumbing to a deep curiosity and an unspoken envy of them.

Certainly, though, the Gentle folk of the Vola were known for reading, thinking, and debate, not exotic travel. Especially not to somewhere as potentially dangerous as Meleket. It was, after all, one thing to hire a team of intrepid explorers, it was quite another to do the thing oneself.

I speculated as much to Cantalen as we entered one of the preparation rooms.

"Quite right you are, Lady Di Santi is considered a bit of an eccentric by her peers, although we certainly appreciate her well enough," said a man standing by the map table, in what could only be described as a deeply bemused voice.

Cantalen, I noticed, promptly blushed to the roots of her golden hair. "Master, I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone would mind if I brought a friend..."

The man, tall and slender with grey hair pulled sharply back from a widow's peak, looked at me sharply, but with a slight twinkle to his eye. "I certainly don't mind, unless your young friend here is prone to giving away trade secrets."

It was my turn to color. "Certainly not! I would never even dream of it!"

Cantalen, suddenly getting a hold of herself, looked between the two of us and smoothly interceded. "I apologize again, Master. Please allow me to introduce Dara Trader, apprenticed to the Guild of Scribes."

I sketched a properly respectful Guildsman's bow. "And this is my training Master, Piers Mapwright."

He bowed lightly back, precisely the proper depth of a Master to an apprentice. He had an almost aristocratic air to him, just the sort of thing that Master Thalia would always aspire to but always fall far short of achieving. I made a mental note to ask Cantalen what she knew of his background, because, as always, I was far more curious than need be.

"Charmed, Miss Trader. Soon to be Miss Scrivner, I would imagine?"

"Next year, if all goes well," I added hurriedly.

"It will," he said with conviction. "My best apprentice would choose nothing less in a companion."

At that, Cantalen and I both blushed, and quickly discovered an absorbing interest in the map.

I Which was, right away, perfectly absorbing. Aethilia and the bottom curve of Civitas Sapientia ran along the top, and the Sea of Baladura fell away in a beautiful range of blues below. A wind rose decorated with a sea serpent was cleverly wrought to the side of the sea, which Cantalen proudly exclaimed was her work. To the right side of the sea lay the rangeless lands of Duros, detailed only as much as one would need to skim past and let one's attention settle where it was meant: the only-partially-completed land of Meleket, glowing like a golden jewel in the center of the lands to the South.

The Nathali river made a long, sinuous curve of greenish-blue through the land, and only the port city of Aktasethi and a couple of smaller inland towns along the Nathali were truly detailed. A small herd of camels and a hint of sand-buried buildings were lightly sketched in below, underscoring the alien mystery of the place. The work done by the Masters was fully evident, the map was not only a navigable document but a brilliant work of art. But the contributions of my friend, pointed out not only by Cantalen but by her justifiably-proud teacher, were almost equally good. Judging by this, I could easily see her taking her Master's test in no more than two years after she passed her Journeyman's trials.

"It's brilliant," I said truthfully, beaming with pride in my friend.

"Ah, but wait until it is finished," said Master Piers, smiling back.

"When does Lady Di Santi and her team leave?"

"Next week," he answered.

"And no, I don't know how long the excursion might take," he added, perfectly anticipating my next question. "Years, certainly. The only question being how many. Some in the Vola may think Violetta di Santi has lost her wits, but I find her unaccountably brave to take this on. I can only wish I had the vigor of youth so that I could join her."

I nodded in agreement, noting in passing the ease with which he dropped his patron's Noble title. Curiosity reigned, both about the legendary Meleket and about Cantalen's mysterious Master.

As Cantalen led me back out, I saw how her cheeks still flamed.

"Do you like him?" I asked, amused.

She turned a very horrified face in my direction. "Not that way, are you crazy? It's just... he's very choosy which apprentices he lets touch commissioned work. I was really surprised he decided to let me work on this, since this map is really important to the Guild."

"He has a very striking air about him, especially compared to Thalia and Vandry. Did he come from a family of Cartographers?"

She shook her head. "No, it's really odd, actually. I'm surprised I never told you before! Master Piers is from a Noble family, can you believe?"

I smiled to myself, pleased that I'd called it right. Although Cantalen was right, it was odd. Nobles were considered Starborn by default, it was a very rare thing for one to be born out-of-caste, although the same laws applied to them when it did happen. The child's contract would need to be sold into a proper craft, although of course the Nobility preferred the more lovely, less necessary crafts. Piers certainly could have become a Goldsmith or a higher-end entertainer had the family wished, it was perhaps a credit to them that they chose what was in my view a much more interesting field.

I said part of what I thought. "I'm surprised they chose Cartography, there are certainly fields more beloved of the Nobility, for a child born a Shaper."

"It was, I heard, more what he wanted. Of course, he's the fourth son, so it really didn't matter quite so much."

I nodded. That explained part of the mystery, as Piers would be unlikely to inherit anytime in the future. Still, it was fascinating to have someone so high-born teaching my best friend, and I made a note to myself to mention meeting him the next time Kailyn went on about being born into a family of Jewelsmiths!

~~*~~

That autumn also saw the cold, overcast morning when Vorthos was due to sit his Journeyman's trials. His success was widely considered a surety, but he was still extremely nervous during breakfast that morning, and I noticed the hand holding his cup of juice was trembling slightly.

Kailyn, ever looking for something to amuse her, called him on it. "Vorthos, you ought to put down that cup, lest you get tomato juice all over us! Honestly, what could you possibly be worried about, everyone says you're the best in the Guild now."

I sensed a bit of jealousy in that remark, and I guessed that Vorthos did too, considering how he scowled at her.

"That would be because I treat this art as something important, Kailyn dear. But then, you might not understand that. See, I see Shaping letters as something more than a tool to amuse myself with and fulfill my obligations to Aes before I go scrambling back to Mummy to be married off to the first Landed piece of rubbish who'll have me!" he said viciously.

"Vorthos!" Francis said sharply, scandalized.

"Vorthos, you scrawny little git, you take that back! I am certainly not marrying a piece of rubbish! I will have a good man!" Kailyn cried, practically stamping her feet in rage.

Vorthos, to everyone's surprise, merely burst out laughing. "You are a piece of work, Kailyn. I guess it didn't occur to you to dispute the first bits, just the part about your future husband."

She looked around wildly as he spoke, obviously trying to recall what it was he had said before he insulted her family's matchmaking skills. Suddenly, her face bloomed a brilliant purple as it slowly sunk in that she'd just put her marital prospects over the Guild, in front of a roomful of apprentices.

"Vorthos, someday you will pay for that!" She said, before turning on her heel and stomping out of the room.

The amusement on Vorthos' face faded to a very chilly grin. "Oh, I don't think so, dear girl. I don't think so at all."

Dorcas looked over at me, and I glanced back, sharing her palpable discomfort. "Well, I do wish you luck today, Vorthos" I said primly, before finding a way to escape the room.

The day passed without all the nervous giggling and attempts to walk by the examination room that had characterized Marcus' trials. For one thing, we'd all been burned once, I think there was too much lingering memory of what happened to Marcus for us to be as confident about Vorthos, even though there was no indication in his work that we shouldn't be. The other difference was that Vorthos, witty as he could be at times, was just not as well liked as Marcus had been.

It was odd, the Masters seemed more distracted and jittery than any of us were. The teaching schedules were reversed due to the testing, with Master Vandry sitting with us in the morning and Master Thalia in the afternoon. What was most unusual was Master Vandry completely abandoning us to work on our sketches at one point, toward the middle of the afternoon. While our instructors sometimes worked on their own pieces whilst we were working, I'd never seen one up and leave the room– especially not since they began taking extra care at their chaperoning.

Francis, Dorcas, Kailyn and I looked at each other almost simultaneously.

"What do you think is happening?" Kailyn asked first, having recovered from being embarrassed this morning and seeming quite eager for something new to happen.

"I have no idea. I hope it's not something bad..." Francis said worriedly.

"You don't think he failed, do you?" Kailyn interjected, with an almost gleeful expression.

"Kailyn, you said that last time. Don't be such a jinx. Besides, I'm sure Vorthos is doing just fine." I said irritably.

Kailyn huffed and looked back at her work.

"Then where's Master Vandry," Dorcas asked, the only one still not willing to let go of something curious.

I grinned at her, suddenly feeling the need to get away from Kailyn and play along. "I don't know, but I'll go find out!"

"Be careful!" Francis called.

I tried to be. I carefully tiptoed out of the room and sidled along the wall to the door to the front hall, which I cracked with the tip of my finger.

Master Vandry and Guildmaster Runion were standing in the main hall, talking to a white-haired man I'd never seen before, dressed in an extremely distinguished maroon-and-gold coat, stark white breeches, and a spun-silk cloak that glimmered in the sunlight filtering through the windowpanes.

Master Vandry was holding a leatherbound folio, and sitting on top was a piece of parchment bearing an illuminated "M" that I recognized as being one of Vorthos' pieces. The stranger took the page from Vandry, and looked at it very carefully. I watched Guildmaster Runion, and he seemed a bit nervous, but more anticipatory than troubled, if I had to guess.

Suddenly, the strange man turned, looking right toward the door where I was hiding. I gasped, as much from the sight of him as from the possibility of being discovered. He was older, which I had already discerned from the shock of snowy hair pulled into a short queue, but his face seemed strangely smooth for his age. His eyes were the most arresting feature, and at that, less their color than the active intelligence behind them. He reminded me of Narakos Cassianos in the way he seemed to crackle with suppressed power, but where every inch of Cassianos was calculated to awe and intimidate, this man had a far more subtle effect– though it was every bit as strong.

He looked straight at me for a moment, his gaze seeming to bore right through the door. I gulped and held my breath, afraid to move.

"What is it?" Guildmaster Runion asked, distracted by his companion's sudden shift in attention.

"Oh, it's nothing," the man said, in a smooth, mellifluous voice. "Do carry on."

I took my time walking back to the workroom, and when I finally arrived, Kailyn turned an impatient eye in my direction.

"Well? What happened? Formate knows you kept us waiting long enough!"

"Oh, nothing, really. I just saw Master Vandry talking with Guildmaster Runion."

I'd kept my voice carefully even, and Kailyn frowned and went back to her work. Only Francis seemed to catch on that I was holding back, but he blessedly chose not to ask me about it. The curious thing was, I had no idea why it was so important to me not to tell the others about the strange visitor. I just had an overwhelming need to keep it for myself, as if some of the mystery would be lost if I told anyone about it.

The day passed far more quickly than the fateful day in which Marcus had taken his trials, and the sun was barely set before both Masters came into the workroom to announce that Vorthos had passed, and we were all invited to the conclusion of the ceremony in which he signed the contract of a new Journeyman and accepted his new name.

The remaining four of us gathered outside the main hall, as the beginning of the ceremony where Vorthos' old contract was destroyed and he made a proper Guildsman's oath was private, reserved to Vorthos and his family. Just as next year, with the gods' blessing, I would be gathered with my own family in that very spot.

I was so intent on thinking about it that I didn't notice we had company until I heard Kailyn's simpering voice, "Well come to our Guild, stranger. I am Kailyn Jewelsmith, leading apprentice of my class. May I have your name?"

Leading apprentice! Why that little...

"Berenta of the Loom, at your service," said a soft voice, amused.

I turned to see a tall, fragile-looking blonde in a nubby silk gown of a stunning deep plum. Her face was too plain to be fashionably attractive, but she had a look of contentment about her. A sigil of Tessura the Weaver, wrought in gold, hung about her rather reed-like neck.

"I'm honored," gushed a genuinely surprised Kailyn. Even a lifetime of fraternizing with the wealthy hadn't brought her into contact with a genuine Mage, as practitioners of the higher art of the Weaver were known as "of the loom" to distinguish them from those who wove cloth.

Francis and I were both bold enough to introduce ourselves as well, but Dorcas hung back, red-faced, until I introduced her.

Berenta, for her part, was gracious and charming. It was odd, but there was something naggingly familiar about her.

"Begging your pardon, milady," I said cautiously, "but may I ask what brings you to our fair Guild?"

And why you're standing in the hallway with the apprentices instead of inside with the Guildmaster, I added to myself.

"You certainly may, and I'm not a Lady," she replied. "I was taught a trade, the same as you, and the same as my dear cousin."

I caught the twinkle in her eye as she watched the pieces fall together for me. "Your cousin is Vorthos!"

"Very good, Dara Trader. He's the first Shaper born into our family, as well."

"So that's how Vorthos always knows so much about Mages!" Francis said with considerable satisfaction.

"But why in the deuce are you waiting out here?" I asked, finally putting words to my still-unanswered question.

"As a family member, I cannot bias the Judgement," she said formally.

"Judgement?" Kailyn and I both echoed, just as the doors opened and we were beckoned inside.

My eyes immediately noticed how nervous Vorthos looked, even though I saw the new contract upon the Guildmaster's desk, fully signed. I also noticed that there was another person in the room with Guildmaster Runion, Masters Thalia and Vandry, and a group of tall, thin people that bore a striking resemblance to Vorthos. The strange man from earlier was standing to the Guildmaster's side, and Vorthos was staring at him with an intensity unusual even for him.

"Welcome, apprentices!" Guildmaster Runion said expansively, with no hint of the jitteriness that seemed to plague his new Journeyman.

"At this point, we would normally open a bottle of wine to salute the newest Scrivner, but I'm afraid there will be a change of ceremony this evening."

Vorthos clutched the fabric of the apprentice's robe he still wore, and closed his eyes.

"I am afraid Vorthos Cartwright will not be released from service as an apprentice after all, although I am pleased and honored to declare his indenture of apprenticeship with this Guild at a satisfactory end."

We looked at Guildmaster Runion in confusion. He was released from his contract, but not his apprenticeship? That didn't make any sense!

"In addition, I find that I also cannot bestow the name of Scrivner upon him," Runion added, clearly enjoying himself.

"Come now, Runion. There's no need to torment the boy so," said the strange man with the marvelous voice, the bare hint of a smile upon his smooth face.

"Well now, it isn't every day that I have the pleasure of seeing one of my apprentices inducted into the Higher Arts!"

I stared slack-jawed in astonishment, and Vorthos' eyes flew open and he looked wildly between the two men.

"With that, you've let the cat completely out of the bag, my dear Guildmaster. Well done," said the visitor with irony so heavy it lay uncomfortably on the air.

Runion blanched and stepped back, gesturing to the white-haired man to continue.

"Very well," he said, bowing lightly to the room. "I am Varadu Shaper, and as the leader of the Order of Shapers within the Schola of Aethilia, it is my honor and privilege to welcome Vorthos Cartwright, henceforward to be known as Vorthos Shaper, to our ranks."

Vorthos seemed almost petrified, the news seeming to take several moments to sink in. For my part, I was beginning to understand what had been at stake for him all along, that clearly he had longed for this from the very beginning. I felt a swell of pride for him, for even if he had always held the rest of us at arm's length, it was a thrill to see one of us not only achieve our goals, but such astonishing ones at that!

"I am honored to be chosen, Sir. I will not disappoint," Vorthos recovered enough to solemnly intone, bowing so deeply his sleeve brushed the floor.

With that, the room broke into chaos. Vorthos' family gathered around him, congratulating and hugging their son, and we waited our turn behind Guildmaster Runion, Master Thalia, and a beaming Master Vandry to shake the newly-made Vorthos Shaper's hand.

As circumstance placed me last in line, I had the fortunate luxury of noticing a most astonishing thing. Varadu Shaper cut in only briefly, to nod to Vorthos and tell him to present himself at the Schola in three days' time. With that, he quickly shook Guildmaster Runion's hand and eased out of the crowd.

"Mistress Weaver," I heard him say as he nodded in passing to Berenta, finding his way out of the room. I then watched through the still open doors as he brought his hands together in front of his chest, slowly moved them outward, and vanished into thin air.

I was still blinking as I found myself face to face with an elated Vorthos, with more color in his cheeks than I could ever have believed possible.

"Thank you, Dara... what are you looking at?" he asked, perceptive even amidst his high spirits.

"Well... it was the most amazing thing... Lord Varadu, well, he just disappeared! Like that!" I said, snapping my fingers to demonstrate.

He broke out into a completely infectious grin. "Damn all! I wish I had seen it! I've heard about that, it's a very advanced skill. Master Varadu shaped time and space around his body. He can go anywhere he wants with that, it's really quite something!"

I laughed. "No doubt you'll be doing it yourself in no time! Although you'll have to promise to come back and show us."

"You'll have a Master's chain and your own apprentices by then, Dara," he said, with surprising seriousness.

I colored. "Thank you, but really, that's a long way off..."

"I mean it, Dara. Your work is really quite good. Please promise me you won't undermine it by doing something foolishly girlish like marrying and ending your career too soon."

I just blinked at him, a bit alarmed by the sudden stridency in his voice. "I won't, I promise," I said before I even knew what I was saying.

"I don't want to monopolize you, of course," I said quickly, backing away. "Again, congratulations!"

With that, I left him to his happy family and rushed out the door, my cheeks flaming in the cool air. I didn't know Vorthos ever even looked at my work!

But later, well after Vorthos left to stay with his family for the time until he had to report to the Schola, after the long celebratory dinner with our training Masters, after Kailyn and Dorcas and I sat up talking about it until Master Thalia came in and told us to be quiet and go to sleep... I lay in my bed, unable to rest, staring into the darkness and thinking about what Vorthos said. Apprenticeship was a duty to both Aes and our families, and it was a given that once I made Journeyman status, I would work to send money back to my family to make my apprentice's contract worthwhile for them. But for a girl, that was usually the extent of it. I had a good family, I could be expected to marry well.

How had Vorthos managed to see right through me like that? To read my heart and see something I hadn't even fully realized myself yet? Having someone who understood Shaping well enough to be chosen to study its highest Art tell me my work was quality only served to fuel a desire I buried deep within. Vorthos was right, I didn't want to marry– not before I managed to earn a Master's chain. Being a scribe was more than just writing down words, there was something both mysterious and deeply joyful about seeing the letters form into words under my pen, committing ideas both simple and profound to the page where they would last forever. Someone once said that true immortality lay in the pages of a book, and that was something that resonated with me, probably from the first moments I learned to read and write. Illumination only sweetened the pot for me, being a way to add my own unique touches to the words of others.

I still felt so deeply embarrassed, that someone I had spent the last three years with but barely even knew, not only knew me, but knew me better than I knew my own self. I remembered how he saw through Marcus' deceptions, and his incredibly well-informed commentary the day of the Duel Magical, and found myself wondering if I'd ever see him again.

~~*~~

The wonderful feeling of lightness at having one of our class of apprentices not only pass his trials with flying colors, but be chosen for such a high honor stayed with us for weeks and carried us into the Solstice season like a wave. Even Master Thalia was in high spirits, bestowing compliments with rare abandon, and Master Vandry ended the week's lessons early, bringing in a huge bowl of spiced egg Nog and fruited pastries for us to all enjoy.

But it was Guildmaster Runion who sealed the festive atmosphere, making a point of personally wishing each of us good cheer for the holidays and honoring each of the four of us with a velvet bag containing three shimmering gold ducats for us to spend at Market buying gifts for our families. Which he encouraged us to do by giving us the rest of the week off.

The good fortune of our Guild had been received with pleased surprise by the Cartographers next door, and they were kind enough to allow Cantalen to go to market with Kailyn, Dorcas and I. Dorcas was beside herself with glee, having never had so much money at once, and she rushed from shop to shop in a flurry of indecision about what to buy for each of the members of her large family. Kailyn, thanks be to Aes, was in good enough spirits that she restrained her typical flood of waspish comments and simply used the good taste she was born with to help Dorcas pick out some truly lovely things.

For my part, Cantalen helped me pick out things for all the members of my family. I found a blue woolen scarf in a brilliant shade of blue for Mydry, which matched the color of his eyes as I remembered them. I was so looking forward to seeing him again for the festival!

I also picked out a blown-glass bottle for Mother's perfume, with a thread of pink swirling through the tall stopper, and a box of imported sealing-wax tapers for Father. Which only left Guilliam and his wife, and the new addition to the family. Guilliam and Zella's firstborn son was a month old now and due to be Named, auspiciously, on Solstice Day.

"I don't know what to get for the baby," I said to Cantalen, while we were browsing with the others in a shop devoted to the symbols of the gods plated in brass. "I'd buy him a crib-charm, but I don't really know what caste he'll be. After all, I wasn't born a Weaver, so one never knows..."

"Perhaps a rattle? I'm sure there are some lovely ones," Cantalen said, tactfully steering me for the door. As we left, I noticed a beautiful amulet with Formate's seal carved in sharp relief, and I couldn't help suddenly thinking of Vorthos– although I had enough sense not to mention it to Cantalen. Gods know what she would have made of that!

My young nephew's Naming was something that I did give a lot of thought to, though, perhaps more than gave me comfort. My parents were still good to me when I went home each year for the holidays, although I thought I sensed an increasing distance over the last year as Zella went through her pregnancy. It was odd being the only one born out-of-caste, and while I loved the art I was learning, I still felt the loss keenly enough. It was perhaps cruel to wish Guilliam's son would also be a Shaper, but it lurked unbidden in the back of my mind anyway.

The day itself was auspicious enough, with a fresh blanket of snow lending instant storybook charm to the Traders' Quarter, and a brilliant blue sky overhead with just the right snap of winter chill to it. I'd spent the night before in my old room, and we had all gathered in the drawing room of my father's house that morning to exchange gifts. My parents gave me a beautiful new cloak in a soft, deep brown wool to replace the old one that I'd finally outgrown. Guilliam and Zella bought me a popular new book of poetry by Lord Quillan, Her Majesty's poet. Mydry made a point of returning for the Naming, fresh-faced and still smelling of the sea. His gift was the best of all, a shining new set of nibs for my quill.

My gifts were all received warmly, and my family exclaimed over Guildmaster Runion's generosity with the apprentices this year. Still, there was a certain discomfort over my news that one of my fellow apprentices had been selected to study the Mage's art, with only Mydry honestly wanting to know more. By the time we were bundled up and ready to board the carriage for the trip to the Temple of Nascere, I was feeling genuinely relieved to finally be out of the house.

The Temple was decked in holiday finery, with candles in colored-glass cups sparkling amidst the evergreen boughs and sprigs of brilliant red winter berries. The long stone room was warm from fires burning in both hearths and from the press of bodies come to celebrate the day, and to have their children Named. A quartet of musicians were ensconced on one side of the room, expertly playing the Cantata for Nascere. Laughter and conversation resounded throughout the room around the sweet voice of the viola, punctuated by brief periods of silence as the priests and priestesses went about their task, and cries from the dozens of babies impatiently waiting their turn. The Solstices, both winter and summer, but especially the Winter, were considered especially fortunate days to have a child Named, as they signaled family and abundance.

After a long wait, which my infant nephew bore with surprising grace and his parents with considerably less poise, we were ushered forward. I held back with my parents as Guilliam and Zella presented the boy to a fresh-faced, straight-backed young Priest of Nascere who looked young enough to be doing his first year of ceremonial duty.

Guilliam went first, giving his name to the priest and intoning the formal prayer asking for the Naming blessing to be given.

Zella followed, her usually loud, somewhat braying voice reduced to a hush. "I am Zella Trader, and by the grace of Aes, I ask that my son be Named."

"So shall it be," answered the priest, taking the baby from her with such care that I feared he would trip and drop him before he reached the altar. But no such mishap occurred, and the priest settled the small body on the polished, gleaming wooden table. He closed his eyes, and an acolyte nearby signaled to the musicians to pause in their playing.

The young priest was silent for a moment, and then a joyous song began to swell from his throat and he opened his mouth and let the sound burst forth into the room. He had, like so many called to service under the Namer, an absolutely beautiful voice. He broke off in mid-note and opened his eyes, gazing fondly at the child.

"Samien of Tessura," he said, and Guilliam and Zella breathed a sigh of relief that their firstborn was Named a Weaver, and able to follow the family trade.

"To be Samien Trader, if that is your will."

"It is," Guilliam said proudly.

"So shall it be recorded," the priest said, nodding to another acolyte, who dipped his quill in an inkwell and noted the results on the official certificate that would go home with the proud parents.

"Aes' blessings on Samien and all of his caste and kin," the priest intoned, before looking on to the next anxious family.

The carriage was brought up close to the door, for it had begun to snow lightly, and we all piled inside. My father broke out a bottle of spirits, passing it around to the men and offering back-slapping congratulations to Guilliam.

"Another Trader! What wonderful news, and what an adorable little addition to the family!" my mother added, passing on the whiskey.

I was just about to offer my own congratulations to my newly-Named nephew when Zella spoke.

Zella clutched her son close to her breast, her face still flushed from the ceremony. "I was so relieved! Imagine if he'd been born something else, and I had to lose him!"

"Once is enough of that," Guilliam said tersely, barely glancing in my direction.

My mouth fell open and I just stared at him and then at my parents, feeling wounded to the quick. When they just coughed and uncomfortably changed the subject, speculating on the trade routes that might be available for young Samien when he came of age, I turned away and stared out the carriage window until it stopped in front of the house.

I let the rest go in before me, taking my time shuffling in the snow, suddenly not really caring if I got my boots and cloak wet.

"He didn't mean it the way it sounded, you know," Mydry said softly, coming up beside me. "He couldn't have."

I took one look at his sad face and realized he knew the truth just as well as I did now. "Yes, he did, Mydry. He meant every word of it."

I hitched up my skirts and ran into the house, with Mydry calling after me.

As much time as I'd spent looking forward to being home for the holidays, now all I wanted to do was get back, as soon as I possibly could. The Guild was my home now, it always had been– I just hadn't truly understood it until now.

I started to envy Kailyn, whose family treated her unfortunate birth into another caste as merely a road-bump that must be tolerated until she could be given a good wedding, but then I realized two things. Did they actually see it that way? Or was Kailyn's abrasive manner merely cover for something she could no more change than I could change the way my family saw me? And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I didn't really envy her, or my newborn nephew that was put in the "right" caste.

Vorthos was right. I had my art to keep me warm and give me joy. What else did I need?

Next Chapter ~*~ "The Shaper's Tale" Home