The city of Sarakkhis was a fine place to be, perhaps more at that time of year than any other. For while it was but the very beginning of September, autumn had come to the countryside, and the oaks and maples of the North Woods were sprinkled with red and gold. The vast farmlands to the south and west of the city were burgeoning with the abundant harvest, for Yavanna had been generous that year. The salt mines to the southwest were quiet, as the salt merchants celebrated another successful summer season. The city itself was bustling with activity, and the vast array of peoples scurried around one another in preparation for the great autumn feast to come, getting ready for the long, dark winter that would soon arrive. The wharves on the Eastern Sea were as an ant colony, as shipping merchants scrambled madly for the last few weeks of navigable waters. The Dwarven settlement, marked by the low stone buildings, was hard at its work, turning out works both practical and beautiful of wrought iron and steel, anticipating the marketing boom that always preceded the coming of cold weather. The Gnomish enclave to the north was busy amassing a wild assortment of trinkets, for the Yule was but four months ahead, and their toys and inventions would come in great demand. Men of all sizes and races milled about the city, most of them merchants in search of profit, many more of them like the Elves, artisans of every discipline, and entertainers of all sorts. There was a general feeling of excitement in the air, and no-one seemed immune to its intoxicating effects, from the indentured workers on the city's outskirts, to the nobility on the western edge of town, to the denizens of the very Citadel itself, Prince Kheldar and his family and servants. Even those on the grounds of the famed Academy seemed effected, as the apprentice mages, and even some of the wizards themselves spoke excitedly of the feasting and festivities to come.

But Fiona could not let herself surrender to the common mood, try as she might, though the autumn was one of her favorite times of the year. She had made her way to her favorite places around the Academy, but none of them seemed to help. The beautiful artwork on display at the museum seemed not so enchanting to her as they normally did; none of the books in the library caught her interest, not even the new treatise which Hoeven had donated just this past week, a cookbook full of recipes from across the country, many of which Fiona had been searching for since she first heard of them many years ago; not even an hour of rehearsal with the Academy choir, which normally brought her joy and spiritual peace, could mollify her, and she had left the Grand Hall in an irritated depression. She had wrapped her cloak about herself and had gone out onto the grounds again, meandering about aimlessly as she lost herself in her thoughts.

In the end, her feet took her to one of her favorite spots on the grounds, a high tower on the eastern edge of the Academy which overlooked the cliffs at the edge of the Sea, a place often used for magical experiments under the open sky. The magically locked door swung open at her touch, and the interior lights came on automatically as she entered, glowing blue and yellow, casting light upon the single staircase which wound its way to the roof. A few moments of climbing brought Fiona to the trapdoor in the ceiling, and with a heave she swung it open, letting it fall back into place after she attained the parapets. Then she strode quickly to the eastern edge of the roof, robes swishing with her movements, and took her place at the battlements, gazing out to sea.

Fiona was tall for a woman, nearly the height of a man; she had warm brown hair, and deep eyes of chestnut brown that highlighted a pretty face. She was given to wearing blue, especially dark shades of midnight and sapphire. Today proved true to form, as she wore a fine linen robe of her own making, expertly tailored and blue as the evening sky. Over that she wore an embroidered cloak with a deeply cowled hood, draped loosely about her shoulders and fastened by a silver brooch which had been her graduation gift from her master, Baldric. On her feet were a pair of soft deerskin boots, made for her by Xenia's uncle Roan. She had indeed been such a sight as to draw the eye of many a potential suitor, even in her early teens, when she was under the watchful eye of her father; but she had yet to marry, even now that she was in her twenty-second year. And, at least for the moment, she meant to keep it that way.

Fiona watched the waves lap against the base of the cliffs for a while, and the solitude began to bring a calming effect over her, and she finally began to relax. When she had set out from the Academy to seek her own fortune at the beginning of the year, she had anticipated (not without some distaste) the possibility of occasional setbacks, but failure to this extent had never entered her mind, and it bothered her terribly. Was it her fault that it had happened? Surely not, she thought. Delmar had been acting rashly at best. Fiona's suggestion had been that they take what they had and leave well enough alone, but he would have none of it. And look what it cost him. But still, she could not help but feel distantly responsible, and that festered at the back of her mind. It had irritated her all the previous week, disrupting her studies; it had so distracted her yesterday that she had had a difficult time listening to Madelyne's girlish babbling, so much so that Fiona had actually been worried for a few moments as to whether or not she was being respectful of her young friend. Fiona never liked the prospect of being directly responsible for other people or their actions, and this had been understood at the very beginning, back in January when the seven of them had first gathered outside the Academy grounds, before marching into the Northern Woods under Xenia's direction. But still, her sense of honor drove Fiona to worry herself over the outcome of recent events, even though matters were well beyond her control. Her only solace was in the fact that none of it had been her idea, and that the group had agreed from the outset that none was responsible for the others, should worse come to worse. Yet still that provided little if any comfort.

"So what do I do now?" she mused, her clear alto voice becoming mute and distant in the roaring of the sea. And at once the answer came to her: "Start over." She began pacing around the perimeter of the parapets, staring out over the vast countryside. After several circuits, she came to a stop at the western edge of the tower, and, after a moment of searching, found the place where it had all truly begun, nestled in among the other mansions that surrounded the Citadel: Faraday Manor. It was there that Fiona had spent the first thirteen years of her life, the only child of a wealthy salt merchant and his wife. She had been a model daughter, skilled in her letters and clever with words as well as deft with a needle and thread, and a marvel in the kitchen. But her sharp mind had been a hindrance as well as a boon to her, for she was an introvert of a child; and with the passing of her mother into insanity and death, she became all the more withdrawn. She spent less and less time with her cousins as the months went by, and she spent more and more time sneaking about the house, ducking in and out of shadows, hiding among the tapestries, imagining herself to be invisible as she spied on her father and the servants. Fiona had a vivid imagination, instilled in her by her mother Marianna at an early age. Fiona had been very close to her mother, and had spent many hours listening to her tales of her own childhood in Brundel. Marianna had been an adventurous young lass given to flights of fancy, and had spent many days with her brother in exploring that city and the Northmarch Mountains which immediately surrounded them. She was a talented storyteller, lavishing her tales with such details and intricacies that Fiona was ever held rapt by them, and they instilled in the young child a grand sense of adventure and wanderlust. The Manor was a large and complex building, and it proved an excellent setting for Fiona's imagined adventures. One day it would become an ancient ruin for her discovery and exploration; the next, it was a decrepit crypt inhabited by fell beings and horrid ghosts. More than once did Fiona frighten or surprise the servants with a sudden dart behind furniture as they entered a room, or with the incantations of some imagined spell.

As Fi grew older, the adventures would move to the outdoors, as she took to exploring the vast city of Sarakkhis, and the adventures became more real. When she was nine, the Corsairs of Hydrandim launched an attack on the cities of the east coast of Andiria, hitting Ouluska and the Sapphire Coast before moving northward to Sarakkhis. Fiona had snuck out of the Manor against the wishes of her father, and had watched the battle from behind a collection of moored dinghies near the north end of the bay. It was then that something truly astounding had happened. A short, ugly man in filthy green robes walked calmly out to the seashore just north of her, and began to chant and gesticulate. He gestured emphatically at the Corsair fleet, and suddenly a ray of light knifed out to touch one of the ships -- and the ship vanished, dropping its crew into the Bay! The man chanted again, and suddenly two of the ships rose into the air, hung there for a few moments, and then dropped onto a third which was unfortunate enough to wander beneath them; the three were annihilated, and their crews killed. As if that weren't enough, the man began to hurl purplish balls of light at the remaining ships, with each ball detonating brightly upon impact. Few Corsairs survived the blasts. Soon enough, these attacks, along with the resistance put up by the city militia, drove the looters away, and the robed man walked away as calmly as he had approached. Young as she was, Fiona realized at once that this man must be a wizard. She had never seen a wizard before, but remembered their description from her mother's stories and from the rumors that circulated among the servants. Well! The rumors had been true, and then some. Fiona wondered to herself what it must be like to wield such power, and that set off whole new rounds of imagined adventures.

"Ah, Beldin," she mused quietly, as she glided to the eastern edge of the tower, and gazed down upon a certain wharf just outside the southern wall of the Academy. "How much you impressed me back then you'll never know. It may have helped earn you a competitor someday."

But Fiona knew that the incident had only been a little push to help along the ideas that Marianna had planted in Fi's heart so long ago, and had been one of many minor incidents that would eventually lead her to join the Academy. Her mother had indeed been the major moving and motivating force in her life, and it was truly to her that Fiona could attribute her current success. Fiona reached into her pocket, and took from it a small leather wallet. She unwrapped it, and drew forth from it a lone piece of paper, which she unfolded. It was a random sheet torn from one of her mother's illuminated texts, and in Marianna's handwriting along the outer margin of one page were written three lines:

"You have been given a great gift," Marianna had said, "and that is your mind. You are the smartest six-year-old girl in this city, I assure you, and some day you may be smarter than anyone else in the city. As you grow, you will see just how rare and precious this gift is. Most people have weak minds. They are little better than cattle, and poorer company. You must have a strong mind, because the strong are the masters, while the weak become servants. You won't realize exactly what I mean for many years, but some day you will see the truth of it. Here." She had torn the page from a book and written the lines. "Keep this, and read it from time to time. It is the most important thing you can remember. But listen -- the master is a Man, and the servant is a Man; there cannot be one without the other. You are going to be a master, and your servants will be other Men. Learning about people is not like learning how to read; some are harder to learn out, some easier. The more you know about people, the stronger you become. I didn't realize this fully for many years, and when I did, it was too late. You must be different. You will be better than I am. You will be the best. Some men are happy as servants, but it is not a life that you will like. Keep the page, and soon you will realize just what I mean."

Those words remained etched in Fiona's mind ever since, and served as a driving force in her life. Perfectionism had been the norm with Fiona over her years, and it continued to be so. Her skill in cooking was a direct result of a desire to be better than all her aunts and cousins in that area, as was her ability with needle and thread. Fiona was ever driven to perform at what she considered to be nothing short of optimally, and while this often resulted in great success for her (she had been called to audience with Princess Romana herself after the Marquesa Grenville wowed the ladies at a court ball when she appeared in a stunning gown that Fiona had made herself), it could and did prove to be a hindrance at times -- indeed, she well knew that her training in the arts of song were far from extensive, and this had nearly prevented her from joining the Academy choir, and it was while she was in the choir that she had first met and befriended Madelyne and Vernon. But perhaps it was this drive and determination that had impressed Baldric so long ago, so that he did not shoo her off the Academy grounds at their first meeting, but rather took her under his wing and became as an uncle to her in the years before her enrollment, before actively sponsoring her in her education.

It was in the April of her eleventh year that Fiona first stood on the northern tip of the cape and let her gaze fall upon the odd collection of buildings directly across the Bay from her, and wondered how she could have missed such a sight for so long. She couldn't quite say why the place was so immediately magnetic to her, but in later years she realized that it was because of the odd construction of the buildings themselves: many were abnormally large, or tall, and most, though obviously of fine make, were uncharacteristically unornamented, and there appeared to be the top of a pyramid in the midst of them.

Straightaway she found the location, a large plot surrounded by a wall and fence of iron and stone twelve feet high. In the center of the west face was a gate, wide open. Seeing no resistance she passed in. The complex was a clean, well-maintained area, with many blocky buildings and stone-paved lanes between them. Directly to the left was a guards' barracks; two men paced before the building but said nothing to her as she passed. Ahead, gardens and lawns were scattered along the walkways. Few people were to be seen, and the occasional passerby was most often dressed in sumptuous robes and carried one or more books. Fiona drew several curious glances, but was not spoken to. The main lane from the western gate led to a central complex of buildings, including one that looked somehow more welcoming than the others at the western edge. She approached cautiously, hesitated at the door, and entered.

The smell intoxicated her instantly. Books, hundreds of them! Leatherbound, scrolls in bone or metal cases, stacks of thick parchment-like paper between wooden plates on which were carved intricate designs; all manner of written material. There were tables in the middle of the chamber and alcoves along the walls, but no one else was present. Fiona approached a rack of bound tomes in awe. She craned her neck to read the inscriptions on the spines but was unable to recognize some of the characters. Many of the books were labeled with titles she could read, and she browsed from shelf to shelf until she found one that caught her attention. As she drifted into the narrative, she didn't notice a man emerge from a door across the room. Fiona was so startled by his voice that she nearly dropped the book.

"For what are you looking? Perhaps I can help in your search."

Fiona had panicked momentarily. Was she forbidden to come into this place? Her mind raced but she made no reply, looking alarmed and unsure.

The man reached slowly for the book. "But of course, you can't read. Let me take that; why don't you go on outside..."

That smacked of an insult! Fiona pulled the book toward her and burst out, "Yes, I can read. I probably read better than you do."

The man raised his eyebrows and smiled his lurking smile. "In that case, you can tell me what you were reading about, eh?"

Fiona opened the book. "I didn't understand it. I mean, some of the books in here are weird, and I can't even read what they say. I can read this one, but I don't know what it's about. See?" and she began to read from the page:

"The army of Vecna laid siege to Hornburg in the year SA1603, beginning the assault upon the northwestern reaches of the kingdom and the trade routes which supplied Colden from that direction." She faced the man defiantly. "That's what it says. I bet you can't read, and so you wouldn't know anyway." The man introduced himself then as Baldric, and quickly demonstrated to Fiona's satisfaction that he indeed could read. At once questions had begun pouring from Fiona's lips.

"Aunt Winnie says that this is the year 581, but 1603 is much bigger than that. How can that stuff have happened? Why does that year start with letters? I never knew it was that way. Who was Vecna? He doesn't sound like a very nice person. I'll bet most people didn't like him, even his parents. Colden is the place where Arialantha lives, right?"

Baldric fenced off her assault with his hands, waving them in protest. "One at a time, please!" His smile was very broad indeed. Baldric had taken an obvious interest in Fiona that day, and spent half an hour answering her questions and generally baiting her to want to read more, especially about history. The trap was expertly laid; Fiona brought a natural inquisitiveness and desire to learn into it. She was hooked at once, and spent two days there each week, reading and studying. She learned a great many things about the kingdom and the wide world that surrounded it, most notably the fact that the world was much older than she had at first believed. There had been three great, long Ages before the current one, and historical texts bore dates prefixed by FA, SA, or TA for the first, second, and third ages, while the fourth and current age was denoted without prefixes, or by NA for "New Age" when greater clarity was required. In this and all things did Baldric prove to be an excellent guide and mentor. He made himself available for an hour on each of those days when Fiona visited the Academy, answering her questions, egging on her desire to learn, and teaching her the rudiments of several skills, including calligraphy and some basic Elvish, both of which she took to quite well. A wonderful relationship soon developed between the two, and soon Fiona began to love and respect the old man even more than she did her father at times. Two more years passed, during which time Fiona came to learn more and more about the Academy itself. Also during that time, her relationship with her father deteriorated further and further, until finally, when he announced that he was going to leave Sarakkhis for Colden on a religious mission for his newly-found faith in the sun-god Indra, and that he had arranged a marriage for Fiona, things finally came to a head, and, sobbing, she had fled to the Academy grounds to take refuge with Baldric. Jacob, the youth her age whom her father had chosen as her husband, was a nice enough fellow, and would have made an excellent heir to her father's interests in the salt trade; but Fiona had not understood her father's reasoning, and in any event she was not even thirteen years old yet -- marriage was the furthest thing from her mind at that point, and she was lost in confusion.

Baldric's presence had exerted an immediate calming effect on Fiona, and her sobs became infrequent as she tried to explain her distress. Baldric had been subtly pushing for nearly a year now, trying to entice Fiona to enroll, going so far as to enlist the help of Delsenora, a fellow wizard and an old friend of his, trying to persuade Fiona through the words of another woman. But Fiona had resisted, and only now did she tell him that she'd wanted to join the Academy for many months now, but hadn't asked Lord Faraday for fear that he'd refuse her. But now he planned to leave town, and she was faced with the prospect of marrying someone she hardly knew, or being left alone in the streets of the city. Surely Jacob was a nice enough young man, and he showed promise as an able businessman, but.... After many questions and much soothing speech, Baldric managed to puzzle out what he believed was the entire situation. He explained his observances to Fiona, trying to interpret why things were the way they were. He was careful not to make her father seem the villain, saying that Lord Faraday probably believed that it would be best for her to marry, and that although he and Fiona had never quite understood one another, he was trying his best to look out for her own well-being before he left for good. Finally, when all was settled and Fiona had calmed completely, Baldric asked, "Well, child, what are you going to do?"

Fiona restrained the sobs that tried to erupt afresh and looked past him into the central atrium of the library. She thought for a minute. "I want to join the Academy. I don't care if I have to work for eight years to pay my way. I've wanted to be a mage for a long time. You'll be proud of me, Baldric, I promise." Fiona smiled, feeling better for having said the words; she wiped at her damp cheeks and said, "You're happy for me, aren't you, Baldric?"

A hug seemed in order, and Baldric had never been one to refuse a hug to a young woman who wanted one. Fiona, feeling much happier and vastly relieved, began to look forward to her new life at the Academy. A scant few months later, after a long screening process and many aptitude tests, Fiona was admitted under Baldric's sponsorship, and began her training at the Academy, graduating seven years later as a specialist in the school of Illusion. She had expected it to take much longer, as an education at the Academy was vastly expensive, and was usually paid for by the Academy hiring the student out to a wealthy noble as an indentured servant for as many as five or six years; but in the discussions that Baldric had had with her father in which he told Lord Faraday of Fiona's intentions, her father had passed on to Fiona through Baldric a goodly sum of money which was to be used as spending money for Fiona, and as a partial payment of tuition. Lord Faraday had sold all his interests in the salt trade to Jacob's father, and had left town without saying good-bye. Fiona had not seen him in nearly eight years.

Fiona sighed. She was never really given to reminiscing, but recent events and decisions led her to do otherwise just this once. She stayed at the parapets, gazing down at the Academy grounds below her, running through her mind as much of her apprenticeship as would come, recalling events both pleasant and not, picking out the places on the campus where this or that event occurred, trying to remember exactly when they happened, and why. A smile found its way to her lips as a salty breeze wafted up from the sea below, sending her hair wisping across her face and about her shoulders.

Just then there came a thumping noise from the floor, and Fiona whirled about to see what was the matter. "Fi? You up there?" It was a man's voice, and Fiona recognized it at once.

"Vernon?" She hurried to the trap door in the roof and opened it. Standing there on the ladder below her was a young man her own age, simple of look and dress, with nondescript brown hair and brown eyes. When he saw her, he smiled broadly, and pulled himself up to the roof.

"Hiya, Fi," he said. "I'm back."

"Vernon!" Fiona flew into his arms, and they caught each other in a warm embrace, and planted kisses on one another's cheeks.

"Sorry I couldn't come up with anything more dramatic to say," he said, and he made his way to the eastern end of the parapets, overlooking the sea. "But you know I'm not so skilled with words as you are. How've you been, Fi? Wow! You look fantastic. This past year has been more than kind to you."

"Now, now," she half-chided, as she glided across the roof to take her place next to him, just outside elbow room to his right. "There you go again. I've warned you about carelessly throwing about compliments. Flattery will get you nowhere with me."

"Compliments? I'm merely stating the dreadfully obvious. Besides, last I knew, you were a woman, and women love compliments -- especially the pretty ones." He grinned impishly and breathed in deeply through his nose. "Ahh, the smell of the sea. I'd forgotten how much I'd missed it. It's been a long time since I've even been back in Sarakkhis, much longer since we've been up here."

Fiona could not help but smile back. "How'd you know where to find me?"

"C'mon, Fi, I may have just spent the summer back home in Arendia, but that doesn't mean that I've forgotten all about my best friend. Baldric told me that you were not exactly in bright spirits, and so I knew you'd be here. Do you want to talk about it?"

The smile left Fiona's face, as she turned to stare out at the sea again. "No, not really," she breathed.

"Bad news?"

"No."

"Bad luck?"

"In a way."

"Lose someone in your adventuring party?"

"I said I'd rather not talk about it."

Vernon looked over at her, and the furrows in his brow mirrored her own. "You gonna be okay?" He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah." She moved in closer to him, and allowed him to hold her closer, one arm draped around her shoulder. There they stood for several minutes before she spoke again. "How were things at home?"

"Hm? Oh, fine," he said, his face lightening again. "Blight seems to have passed, and Mom and Dad are doing fine now. Harvest was really good this year -- no problems this winter. I can finally get going on with my career as a wandering wizard. All I need to do is latch on with some party, and I'm off. Thought I'd spend some time around the Academy for a while, at least through the Harvest Festival. I haven't seen you or Maddie for a while, and if I'm not imposing, I'd like to hang around with you two for a bit."

"Have you seen Maddie yet?"

"No. Is she around? I heard she's due to graduate soon."

"Yeah, I just spent much of yesterday with her. She's due to graduate in December, but you know her. It'll probably be at least April before she's finished. You know how she is."

"Yup. She never could keep her mind on one thing for more than a few seconds at a time. It amazes me that she's even enrolled."

"She can't wait to see you. She yammered on for about half an hour about the fact that you were due back in town some time soon." Fiona gave a knowing grin and shot a sidelong glance at him. "That girl is crazy about you, you know that, don't you?"

Vernon looked obviously uncomfortable. "Uh, um, yeah, I know," he stammered, and Fiona almost had to laugh.

"Oh, don't worry," she chuckled. "You'll have me to protect you. I just opened my second ring this week."

Vernon visibly brightened, and an eyebrow shot up. "Really?" he said. "I hadn't realized that you'd be so successful so quickly. I mean, granted, you were the most promising of the lot of us, but --"

"Now Vernon, there you go again." Fi gave a small laugh, but the distantly worried look had come back to her eyes. Responsibilities, responsibilities.

Vernon was not blind to the subtle change. "What are you going to do next?" he asked carefully.

"Rebuild." Fiona's answer was matter-of-fact, and Vernon could tell that she was merely covering the fact that something dreadful had happened and that she was deeply bothered by it. "I'm supposed to meet Idgie at eight o'clock at some weird restaurant by the wharf. At least I hope it's a restaurant and not one of the dives she's tried to drag us into in the past. We're going to begin our planning tonight. What time is it?"

"The Hall Clock read a quarter of seven when I was passing by a few minutes ago."

"Then I'd better get going. It's a half-hour walk or more from here, and I can't afford a carriage. I blew all my money on training expenses this week." She turned and began to move off toward the trap door.

"Let me walk you there," said Vernon, and he hurried to beat her to the door. She let him lift the trap door and help her down the ladder. "I've got a few extra sovereigns that I can spend. I can maybe buy you a drink."

"I'd like that." She smiled at him, and kissed his cheek. "Vernon, you're an absolute doll. If Maddie ever gets her talons into you, she'll be in for a real treat."

Vernon shuddered. "I hope that doesn't happen. I don't think my ears could take the punishment."

The city streets were generally empty, as the majority of the townsfolk had retired for the night, but the wharves were alive with activity. More than once did Fiona duck behind Vernon and let him glare off unwelcome advances from a drunken sailor. This part of the city was less clean than much of the rest, and Fiona was certainly less than appreciative of the foul air and filth that had to be sidestepped from time to time. "This place is disgusting," she grumbled. "For Idgie's sake, the place better be good."

"I'm sure it will be," said Vernon, and after a pause, he added, "Fi, I've been thinking about what you said you're going to be doing -- rebuilding your group and all. Did you lose all the rest of the party? Who's still in the group?"

"Just me, Idgie, and Xenia." Fiona's tone was businesslike.

"What about the other four? Are they --"

"Yes."

"Tyche's flaming hair. I hadn't realized that it'd been that bad." He paused for a few moments as they continued on through a few side streets and back alleys. "Fi? Uh, I don't know quite how to phrase this, but, um, what kind of people are you looking for to fill the holes in the group?"

"I'm not quite sure yet. That's some of the stuff that Idgie and I are going to talk about. Why?"

"Well, because, uh, well, I was just wondering, if, uh, I might be able to --"

"No, I don't think so." And immediately Fiona realized that she had said it perhaps a bit to sharply, and she stopped and turned to Vernon. He did have an injured expression on his face. "I'm sorry, Vernon, but I really don't think it's a good idea for you to join us. I don't think it would work out well."

"Well, I never realized that you felt that way about my magical skills..."

"No, no, it's not that. I'm sorry." Fiona looked frustrated, and a bit pained. "It's just that -- well, you'd be a distraction."

Vernon cocked an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like much of an apology to me...."

"No, it's just that --" Fiona took his hands in hers and looked him in the eye. "Vernon, I could never adventure with you because I care about you too much. If I were to allow you to join us, and then something were to happen to you, I'd never be able to forgive myself. At this point in our careers, we're just starting out. We're not skilled sorcerers by any means yet, and we just aren't that capable of defeating our enemies through magic or using magic to escape injury and death. I'd never be able to get anything done because I'd be constantly worrying about your safety. I'm sorry, but I just can't help the way I feel. Please understand."

After a second or two, Vernon gave a wide grin. "For thee, fair lady in blue," he said, "I can understand anything." He laughed. "Don't worry about it, Fi. It was only wishful thinking on my part, anyway. It would not exactly be unpleasant to travel with such an attractive collection of women as yourselves!"

"Have you lost your senses? Last I looked, Xenia was more ursine than human."

"You know what I mean. Hey -- isn't that the place?"

Halfway up the next block was a small, simple building with a sign posted above its door which read The Fishy Shoe. Music and laughter and the occasional raucous cheer and colorful curses could be heard coming from its open doorway. "Yes, that's it," said Fiona, and a scowl began to spread across her face. "Idgie seems to be holding true to form."

The entire place was filled with smoke and smelled strongly of salt, half-washed bodies, and spilled ale. The majority of the patrons were men of all sizes, most of them dressed in sailor's garb and peppering their speech with florid curses and outlandish braggadocio. What few women peopled the place did little to make Fiona feel more comfortable. Besides the scullery maids, there were but three other women, all of whose dress placed them in rather illicit professions. Fiona and Vernon used the smokescreen to slip relatively unnoticed into a booth at the far side of the tavern, as far as possible from the noisy activity that surrounded the center tables.

"I don't see her, do you?" asked Fi.

"Nope," said Vernon, peering about. "She's not here yet. Maybe we can see about getting something to ward off the ill humors in the air. Miss!" He gestured to one of the waitresses, and she immediately wrested herself from the reaching hands of a tottering drunk, and came over to their booth. Fiona was at once struck by something in the way the girl looked. She was tall, even taller than Xenia, and stunningly pretty. Fiona could feel Vernon's eyes all over the girl. She was perhaps a year or two older than Fiona, and like Fi, she had deep, warm brown hair that fell in curling rivulets about her shoulders. She was in fine physical shape, far from the usually flabby or over-voluptuous body that was worn by most barmaids, and her midnight blue eyes shone with both fiery intensity and deep sincerity. Somehow, she just did not seem to fit in. Fiona continued to stare at her curiously.

"Hi, my name's Mandi. My dad owns this place," she said, and once again Fi was aware of an anomaly: the girl's voice was cool and clear, unlike the tobacco-induced growl that served as a typical barmaid's voice, and her tone and bearing suggested a genteel upbringing and a welcoming manner. "Sorry about the mess," she continued, "but with all the ships coming to port for the season, there's an awful lot of -- shall we say --" she leaned close -- "undesirables about. Things are generally more peaceful before six, but after dinner these boys can think of nothing but drink. I'll see to it that they leave you alone. Is there anything I can get you folks?"

Vernon ordered a small ale, while Fiona asked for a glass of wine. The two of them spent much of the next half hour in small talk before Vernon excused himself; he had another appointment, and had to get going. "Are you going to be able to get home all right?" he asked as he drew his cloak about his shoulders.

"Yes, hon, I'm a big girl now. I can take care of myself. Besides, very few people are willing to take their chances with anyone dressed in magical trappings." She got up with him, and gave him a warm kiss on the cheek as he prepared to leave, and he returned the gesture. He then took a few coins from his belt pouch and tossed them on the table, following his usual habit of leaving a large tip. He also handed Fi a few extra coins. She refused to take them at first, but Vernon insisted that they were a mere loan, and then hurried off.

Just as Vernon was about to open the door to leave, it was pulled open from outside, and into the restaurant came a small young woman, practically bounding into the place. She was half a head shorter than Fiona, and slim, with shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was pretty, though not so much so as Fiona or Mandi the waitress, and her looks were impish and elfin, almost boyish. Her clothes were boyish as well, for she wore britches beneath leather armor, dark gloves, and a man's grey cloak with a deep hood. She ever smiled, and her eyes sparkled with laughter. She apologized to Vernon, and then watched him as he left, nodding with approval. Then she gave a laugh and turned, and, immediately spotting Fiona through the dim, smoke-filled room, she moved quickly across the room to join her, easily sidestepping several drunken gropes as she passed. She seemed to be as a gnat, darting in and out among the clumsier, slower creatures that surrounded her, firing a barbed comment or two at more than one of the oafs. She then stepped up on a table and nimbly leapt the last eight feet through the air to land catlike on the seat across from Fiona.

"Hiya, Fi!" she said, grinning wickedly.

"Hello, Idgie," said Fiona. "You never could resist a grand entrance, could you?"

"Tyche's titties, no!" In some ways Idgie was very much like Fiona. Idgie shared very little of her past with her companions, and kept her private life very secret from the others, never discussing her business with anyone. It was well known that she was entangled in the long tentacles of one of the Guilds in the city's underworld, and that she was more than just a little good at lockpicking and trapshooting; but very little else was known about her. She enjoyed speaking in half-riddles, much like Fiona did when trying to be unhelpful while not being rude, and also like Fi she was quick with her hands and moved with a delicate grace and ease. Yet in other ways she was very different. She was a showman, ever drawing attention to herself with outrageous stunts and colorful language, far from Fi's characteristic understatements. She was very fond of practical jokes and open bantering, and was known for being far from conservative when dealing with the menfolk. Yet for all their differences and differences of opinion, the women had become fast friends and trusted companions of one another. Idgie had been the very first recruit when Fiona was assembling the team for the first time back in January, and the two of them had learned to feed off one another's skills when in combat. Indeed, it had only been because the two women had carefully protected one another, hiding behind the vast shadow of Xenia, that they had survived the battle that had taken Delmar and the others. Fiona had developed a great deal of respect for the young girl, seeing in her much of herself, and much of what she might have become if her life had progressed only a little differently.

"Well, what's up?" asked Idgie. She picked up one of the coins from the table and began rolling it across the backs of her knuckles, sticking out her tongue in concentration.

"Hey, that's the tip."

"Not until we leave, it isn't. Besides, I'll put it back."

"I'm not so sure, knowing how you are when money is involved."

"Trust me." Idgie grinned a bit too widely for Fiona's comfort. Then: "Hey, was that your buddy Vernon that just left?"

"Yes. He walked me down."

"He's kinda cute, in his own way. Ever think of trying to reel him in?"

"Really, Idgie!" Actually, there had indeed been a time, when the two of them were much younger, that Fiona had become interested in Vernon in a way that he wasn't ready to accept. That had nearly destroyed their long friendship, so humiliated had she been by her perceived foolishness and the ensuing feelings of rejection. But Vernon had known just how to act in the situation, and handled her ego and her dignity with great care, keeping her at arm's length while being careful not to tread upon her feelings, giving her time to regain her composure while making it obvious that he had no intention of letting the incident get in the way of their friendship. That had strengthened their relationship all the more, and she thus found new ways to love and respect him. But of course she had spoken of the incident to no-one, not even Baldric; and as well over the years she had become an expert at hiding her feelings, so that even though Idgie was an expert at reading faces, Fiona betrayed her no reaction.

Idgie gave a light, cheerful laugh. "Anyway, what's the scoop?" she asked. "We're supposed to get going on patching the holes in the group."

"Yes. I've been giving that a lot of thought lately. I think we should take an entirely different approach this time around."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's like this." Fi leaned over, and the two began speaking in hushed tones. "First of all, I want to be more careful in the way that we select people. I want it to be clear that I'm the boss, and that I won't tolerate any flack like Delmar was so fond of inflicting."

"Delmar was an asshole," said Idgie. "And a pig. He wasn't like poor Tom, who was a pretty decent guy, once you got by his odd habits."

"That reminds me -- no druid this time either. Tom was way too quirky, and his habits were too disruptive to our operations. In the future, such things can only get worse."

"Agreed. I think it's a good idea. I'll have no problem with you at the helm -- you're best suited for it. And I don't think Xenia will mind either."

"Neither do I. And that reminds me -- we really don't need three fighter-type stick-shakers in the group. Delmar and Oldwin hardly did anything worth talking about, while Xenia can practically lop the limbs off trees with one blow. Besides the obvious fact that we need a priest of some sort to hold down the defense of the group, I think we only need one more sword-swinger, more to protect me and you than to dish out damage."

"Won't that leave us a bit short on the spell-casting end of things?" asked Idgie. "It was my understanding that we really needed more spellcasting ability in the group than just you and one priest. No offense."

"None taken. But things were getting out of hand with seven people all wanting to do different things, and two would-be leaders. I might agree to six, but I'd prefer to keep the group to five if possible. What would be ideal would be if there was an Elven warrior-mage available."

"What about that guy, that Elf you mentioned, from the Academy. What was his name?"

"Karna?"

"Yeah, that's it. What about him?"

"Well..." Fiona raised an eyebrow and spoke carefully. She hated saying negative things about people when they weren't there to defend themselves. "To be perfectly honest, I just don't feel that he has his head screwed on straight. He's rash, impulsive, and highly prone to ramming his foot in his mouth at the least bit of provocation. He is also, if you'll pardon my being so blunt, not exactly a skilled tactician. He has no idea of how to blend his stick-swinging with his spellcasting. Even with what little I know of swordplay, I could give him some very valuable lessons in survival tactics. He also had trouble graduating because of his inability to find creative uses for some basic spells, and that worries me. Besides, quite frankly, I was bothered by the fact that there was so much sexual tension in the group. I think we'd be much more effective as an operation if we were homogeneously female, if only to avoid those problems."

"Whatever you say. Still, he is the only one available, and I don't think either one of us is exactly in the mood to search for another warrior-mage for the next five months. I think we might want to consider letting him in on a trial basis, to see how things go, and decide after that. You did say he was interested in joining us, right?"

Fiona scowled in concentration. "Yes, he is quite anxious to join us, especially now that we've been getting hold of some leads. What's come of that scroll you procured?"

"Found." Idgie patted her vest, just under her left breast. "Got it with me. Keep it right where I can watch it. I'll pull it out later. Nothing yet as to what it could mean. It's quite clearly written in some alphabet that I've never seen before, but nobody at the Guild seems to have any idea what it is. One reason I picked this place to meet is that old Timon who owns this place has a nice, completely private back room where we can discuss things while less in the open. We'll shift there in a few minutes. Did you meet Mandi? She's the old man's only kid. She sometimes helps him out. Ah! There she is." Idgie craned her neck to see the waitress who had waited on Fiona and Vernon earlier. "I'll get her in a few minutes, when we want to talk about that. In the meanwhile, what about our hot-blooded Elven friend...?"

Fiona paused for a few seconds, still thinking, and then said, "Very well. I'll ask him tomorrow when I see him. In the meanwhile, we have to come up with a priest, a female one. And no priestess of Aphrodite, either. I'm not going to adventure with someone who feels that the respectful way for a man to greet her is to do his damnedest to impregnate her."

Just then a shout rang out, and the two women spun about to see that a fracas had erupted in the center of the bar, no doubt the result of one drunk feeling that another had cheated him at cards. The other patrons quickly joined in the melee, cutting off any of the girls' escape routes. Mandi, the bartender and the cook were trying their best to break up the fight, while most of the other employees fled.

"Oo! A fight!" Idgie's impish grin appeared again, and she began fishing for something inside her cloak. "Don't mind if I do."

"Hey, wait, you aren't going to..."

"Relax." Idgie pulled out a pair of heavy brass knuckles. "Ziggy gave me these. I won't do anyone any permanent harm." And off she went, darting in and out among the combatants, delivering the occasional rap with the knuckles, laughing merrily to herself.

Fiona, however, had no desire to get involved. She was not nearly so skilled in hand-to-hand combat as Idgie was, and so her immediate goal was to stay out of the fight. Her way out was clearly blocked, and, after weighing her options, quickly decided upon a course of action.

"Well, it almost seems a waste to use my first second-ring spell for so ridiculous a reason, but here goes," she mumbled to herself. She closed her eyes, and concentrating, searching her memory for the new second ring of spells, and located within it was a single spell. When she found the spell, she was at once taken by its symphonic overtones, as if by feeling the spell just for a moment she could instantly see the spell in its entirety, from the beginning incantations, to the complex finger gestures involved, to the pressing of the gum arabic and an eyelash under her fingernail, to the last words of the spell which would finally release the magic. It was just as a master musician heard a piece of music: the first few hearings were just preliminary, used exclusively for the learning of the piece; but as the piece became learned more and more, it became more and more the personal property of the musician who knew it, until finally, when the piece was totally committed to memory, it did not occupy a long period of time in the mind, but rather the entire piece was heard in but an instant. The beginning of the piece contained all the information in the entire work, as the first few bars immediately determined what the next few must be, which led to the next lines, and the next, so that even the distant ending could be seen in the very first bars of the piece. And thus, as the magical syllables that the ear could not remember began rolling gently off her tongue, she could see herself performing the entire casting, and with each syllable she heard the entire performance again, until at last the final word was spoken, and the magic was released from her mind, to be forgotten until the next day. Fiona could feel the spell take place at once, and to make sure it had worked, she looked down at her hands, to see if there were anything there. To her great delight she discovered that the spell had indeed worked, and that she was completely invisible.

At once she got up on her seat, and, realizing that she would much rather be able to leap to safety than worry about modesty and propriety, she hiked up her robes to her hips, and watched the action, ready to flee on a moment's notice.

To her great surprise, it was not Idgie who was the best fighter in the group, but Mandi, the barmaid. She easily ducked the clumsy attacks aimed at her by the inebriated patrons, and responded with sharp punches to the face and solar plexus. She was not so quick as Idgie, who was holding her own against a pair of wobbling fat sailors, but her blows were more skillfully aimed, and more often struck home. Fiona watched her in fascination.

Just then there came a cry of sharp pain, and Fiona turned to see a man clutching his face, the victim of a razor slash. His assailant moved in for another blow, and Fiona at once sprang to the downed man's aid, searching her mind for another appropriate spell; but Idgie was quicker, and felled the assailant with a well-aimed blow to the back of the neck, and he fell unconscious. Fi took Idgie by the arm, and the spritely girl nearly leapt out of her skin.

"It's me," said Fiona. "You bind his wounds while I fend off the others.

"Maelduin's hairy testicles, Fi, you scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry." Fiona took up a chair and held it before her defensively. Drunk as they were, the combatants were not willing to fight against a floating, disembodied piece of furniture, and they backed off while Idgie tended to the wounded man on the floor.

The brawl soon ended, as Mandi and the other employees proved to be proficient in ousting the unruly drunks, and the bartender came over to see what had happened. "Face slashed pretty badly," said Idgie. Fiona chose that moment to let down her invisibility, and she dropped her chair. "Fi kept them off me while I bound his wound, but he's gotta be seen by a priest, soon."

The bartender at once turned and bellowed. "Mandragora! You're needed! Pronto!"

The young woman showed up in a moment or two, and closely examined the cut. It was deep, but by no means fatal, though it looked painful and messy and would take a long time to heal, leaving a huge scar. She winced and hissed in air through her teeth, and then began to mumble and gesticulate, moving her hands across and over the wounded man's face. She brought forth a small pendant in the shape of a sword through crossed lightening bolts, and Fiona caught the name of the sky-god Donnor several times as the girl prayed. Suddenly Mandi's hands began to glow a soft blue, and she ran her fingers gently across the wounds. The cuts disappeared at her touch, sealing without scarring while the spilt blood vanished. Presently the man sat up and stared around him, wounds healed completely. The remaining combatants realized then what they were dealing with, and wisely fled.

Fiona and Idgie caught one another's glance, and nodded. Idgie leaned close and whispered, "A priestess of Donnor! Exactly what we needed!"

"Yes, but I don't quite like the fact that we're so lucky. It's too fishy, if you'll pardon the rather poor pun, considering where we are. Did you know that she was a priest?"

"Nope," said Idgie. "Maybe it's just the will of Koh. Lady Fate sometimes works in mysterious ways."

"That's what my dad thought, and it nearly cost my mother her life in childbirth."

"Well, then, just consider it a gift from Tyche, a supreme bit of luck. Will that make it better?"

"Not really," said Fi. "But as they say, you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth either." She moved over to Mandi. "Excuse me, can we have a word with you?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, sure. Come this way." The tall young woman led them to a back room, where Fiona and Idgie quickly outlined their story and their need to find a cleric to join their group. "Are you available for hire?" asked Fiona. "We could really use you."

"In fact, I am," said Mandi. "I think it would be nice to adventure with some girls for a while. I was the only woman in the last group I was in, and the boys constantly fought over me. That's why I left. In fact, it's been just three weeks now that I gave them the boot and came back to help my dad for the holiday, right after my lord Donnor opened the second ring of blessings within my soul."

Fiona glared at Idgie. "I don't like this," she half-growled, half-whispered. "It's too easy."

"Tyche, not Koh," she whispered back, and nudged her ribs. "C'mon! She's a nice enough kid."

"All right. But I still don't feel comfortable." Fiona then turned to Mandragora. "I am Lady Fiona Faraday of the Academy of Magic at Sarakkhis. I believe that you know Idgie already, she is a... a..."

"Troubleshooter."

"Troubleshooter. Mandragora, priestess of Donnor, welcome into our fold."

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