The sound of waves, beating against the rocks below, came softly through the thick green glass. Jemeryl paused for a moment and stared through the window, scrunching her eyes half-shut against the brilliant sunshine outside. The sea was dotted with boats as far as the horizon; small fishing craft, trailing their nets, and the larger cargo ships, laden with merchandise, slicing through the waves. A seagull, rising on the updraft created by the cliffs, steadied for a moment then soared away.

The School of Herbalism stood on high cliffs to the west of town. Another headland rose on the far side of the bay, several miles distant. The rocks around its base formed a jagged fringe in the surf. Its top was crowned with a lighthouse - a thin dark finger, pointing up at the cloudless morning sky. On the coast between the school and the lighthouse lay the wide estuary of the river Dhaliki. The bank nearest the school was lined with the red-tiled roofs and whitewashed walls of Ekranos. A soft smile lifted the corners of Jemeryl's lips. Somewhere in the town was Tevi, working for the port authorities.

"Hey. Stop gawking out the window and give me a hand - or is something happening out there?"

The voice recalled Jemeryl to her surroundings. She turned away from the window and smiled apologetically at the speaker, while her eyes adjusted to the subdued light of the hospital ward. Jemeryl's study partner, Vine, was sitting a few feet away by the cot of one of the patients. The expression of eager curiosity on Vine's face caused Jemeryl a flicker of amusement. Vine was renown for a fanatical love of gossip, and was equally effective in both the gathering and spreading of rumours. Her superiors could only wish that she would devote a fraction of the enthusiasm to her work as junior sorcerer in the school.

"No, you're not missing anything at all. My mind was just wandering."

Vine's face fell slightly. She shrugged and held out the bloody bandage she had just removed. "Oh well. Throw this away and get some clean water. We need to wash the bite."

Somewhat gingerly, Jemeryl took the soiled linen. She dropped it in one of the containers at the end of the ward, while trying hard to avoid seeing or smelling the other unsavoury contents of the bin - and the combined aura was definitely best ignored. There was a stone sink nearby. She rinsed her hands before filling a shallow bowl and returning to the patient. A few drops of antiseptic turned the water purple, then Vine dipped a cloth in the solution and began to wash the patient's wound.

The man in the cot moaned faintly, in a semiconscious stupor. He was a porter who had been bitten by a rat that was hiding between sacks of grain on the quay. The wound had become infected and the porter was carried to the school, running a high fever and delirious. The bite was now an ugly ring of black and purple. Jemeryl's stomach lurched at the sight of the dark scabs, stark against the swollen, bloodless skin. She busied herself by taking another cloth and wiping the patient's face. A fine row of sweat stood in beads along the man's upper lip. His eyes were glassy and unfocused.

"The bite is clean. No sign of any more pus." Vine noted cheerfully.

Jemeryl clenched her teeth. She hated working in the hospital. Sunshine flooded through the high windows but for Jemeryl the rooms held a murkiness the light could not pierce.

Herbalism and medicine had always been her least favourite magical discipline, and the addition of genuine patients had not improved her liking. It was hard to believe that any sorcerer would willingly chose this work, when there were so many other fields of magic to explore, yet many did. Jemeryl tried to take comfort from knowing she was lucky not to have been sent to the school before, as part of her general training. It was a fate that had befallen several of her fellow apprentices from Lyremouth. At least her present stay in Ekranos did not need to be a long one.

The porter gave another rasping moan. Lank hair clung to the sweat on his brow. He seemed to be making failed attempts to swallow. The sound twanged a chord of concern for Jemeryl. She stared into the man's face.

"Something's not right. His aura is more distorted than you'd expect." Jemeryl said uncertainly.

Vine chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Maybe."

"Should we ask Neame to take look at him?"

"It might be an idea."

"I'll find her." Jemeryl hurried off in search of Neame.

The hospital was a large collection of buildings on the eastern side of the school, laid out with trees and scented bushes. It would take a long time to search them all. Fortunately Neame was not far away. Jemeryl found her in an adjacent ward, deep in conversation with a senior witch at the foot of a cot containing a gaunt, elderly patient.

While waiting politely, Jemeryl studied the senior sorcerer, who was both head of the hospital wing and deputy to the principal. In Jemeryl's mind, just about the only good thing to the hospital was the chance to watch Neame at work. In the days since she had arrived, Jemeryl had acquired a great respect for the woman - even though Neame was one of the main suspects.

Lips pursed, Neame was listening to her assistant. Her forehead was puckered in a distracted frown. She was a plump woman in her mid-fifties, with peppered grey hair twisted in an untidy braid at the back of her neck. Much of it had escaped and the wispy loose strands were tucked carelessly behind her ears. Her clothes gave the impression they were following her around purely out of habit. Her face would have been very ordinary, were it not marked by intelligence and determination. Her manner would have been brusque, were it not underlain by a deep sense of compassion. Jemeryl knew it was an emotional response, but she could not help hoping that Neame was innocent.

Eventually the deputy nodded and murmured something quietly. The witch disappeared through a side door. Neame pushed the hair back from her eyes.

"What is it?" Neame asked, noticing Jemeryl for the first time.

"Please ma'am. I wonder if you could come and take a look at one of the patients."

"Of course."

Neame followed Jemeryl back through the wards. At the sight of their approach, Vine vacated the stool, allowing the senior sorcerer to take her place. The condition of the patient had not changed. Neame studied him intently, her fingertips just touching his forehead.

She sighed and glanced back at the two younger sorcerers. "The rat was diseased. Not surprising. A healthy rat would have run away when it heard the dock workers."

Neame picked up a small slate from the nearby table. She chalked a hasty note, underlining the last line, before passing it over to Jemeryl. "We need different medication. Go to dispensary and ask Orrago for this." She hesitated. "Have you met Orrago yet?"

"No ma'am."

Neame looked at Vine. "You'd better go as well and introduce them. I'll take care of things here."

"Yes ma'am."

The air outside smelt clean. The bushes that lined the path were alive with the sounds of insects and the rustle of leaves. Black dots of seagulls wove through the updrafts against a brilliant blue sky. Jemeryl took a deep breath and ran both hands through her hair, as if trying to brush away the aura of sickness that filled the hospital wards. She glanced at the other young sorcerer.

Vine's expression was untroubled. She was shorter than Jemeryl by half a head, with a mat of straight black hair framing a round, good-natured face. She had a small, flat nose and a large, white smile. A guttural burr of an accent betrayed her origins, far outside the Protectorate. Jemeryl had learned that Vine was a nickname, short for 'The Grapevine'. Her real name was never used, mainly because it was extremely long and impossibly short on vowels.

"I don't know how you can be so cheerful in the hospital." Her tone held more emotion than Jemeryl had intended.

Vine shrugged. "You get used to it. You've only been here ten days. I've had fourteen years."

"Fourteen years!"

"Fifteen come summer."

"You must have been very young when you arrived."

"I was. I'm from a tiny tribe, way down south in the rain forest. I don't think they'd ever had a sorcerer born there before. My family didn't know how to deal with me, but they'd heard of the Coven. They got river traders to bring me here, in exchange for..." Vine's nose wrinkled. "something or the other - probably intoxicating. I was dumped in Ekranos, not knowing a word of the language. I think I caused a bit of commotion on the quay - you know what a seven-year-old sorcerer can be like. Fortunately, no one got seriously hurt. They coaxed me up to the school and I've been here ever since."

"You weren't sent on to Lyremouth?"

"I went there to take my oath and stayed a few months, but I came back as soon as I could."

"Why?" Jemeryl's voice betrayed her incredulity.

"My gift is best suited to herbalism. I think it's the influence of the rain forest. I like plants."

"The plants are all right. It's the hospital I find a strain."

"I can tell you aren't happy, but it really does get a lot easier with time."

"Maybe." Jemeryl sighed. "I'm just glad I've got a free afternoon, so I can put some distance between me and the wards."

"You're lucky. I've got to work with Tapley and his precious ravens."

"It can't be worse than the hospital."

"It is, believe me, it is." Vine groaned for effect. "But what are you doing this afternoon? I heard you're going into town. Do you have any plans?"

"I'm meeting someone." Jemeryl said cautiously, knowing that anything told to Vine would be circulating the entire school by sunset.

"Known them long?"

"We met on the boat from Lyremouth." Jemeryl tried to sound nonchalant.

"Are they a... good friend?"

Vine was on the trail of gossip. Fortunately the dispensary was at hand, curtailing the conversation before Jemeryl was pushed for an answer.

As they reached the door Vine came to an abrupt halt and looked at Jemeryl hesitantly. "You've not met Orrago yet?"

"No."

"You may find her a bit surprising - nothing to worry about." Vine added quickly. "It's just she's very old and her wits are going. She used to be principal, but she had to resign. A great shame. She looks after the dispensary now - sort of. She's not really up to the job. You'll see what I mean."

Vine tapped softly on the oak door. "I wouldn't want to wake her if she's asleep." she explained, but an elderly voice called out indistinctly.

An obstacle prevented the door from opening fully, and Vine had to slip sideways through the gap. Jemeryl followed dubiously. She came to a halt just inside the room and stared around in bewilderment.

A sweet, acrid smell pervaded everywhere. Mounds of dried vegetable matter littered every horizontal surface, stacked between precariously balanced bottles. Several opened crates stood in the centre of the room, their contents as yet unpacked. It had been one of these blocking the door.

Vine was making her way towards a high-backed armchair, positioned in the sunlight beside a tall window. She beckoned to Jemeryl to follow. It required great care not to dislodge anything, but Jemeryl managed to squeeze passed the overflowing ledges, and eventually was able to face the chair's occupant.

An old woman sat wrapped in a thick woollen blanket. Wispy strands of white hair made a halo in the sunlight. Her face was deeply lined, as was the sunken skin between the protruding knuckles on her hands. Pale eyes blinked uncertainly. Yet, Jemeryl could sense the remnants of great power. In her day, Orrago had been one of the Coven's foremost sorcerers.

Vine spoke slowly and distinctly. "Excuse me ma'am. I've come to collect some things and want to introduce you to Jemeryl. She's been sent here to study herbalism."

The watery eyes examined Jemeryl thoughtfully. "You're like... what's her name... young Iralin." A frown crossed the lined face. "I haven't seen her for a while. Ask her to pop in and see me."

Jemeryl opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. As the ancient face smiled benignly in her direction she finally said, "I think you're confused, ma'am. Iralin is a senior sorcerer at Lyremouth. She was my tutor."

"Oh no, she's a young thing, here to brush up her herbalism."

Vine spoke softly. "No ma'am. Jemeryl is right. It's a long time since Iralin was here."

Orrago's gaze drifted away, a pained expression crossed her face. She tapped her hand on the arm of the chair. "Maybe, maybe. People are getting to be like that."

Vine stepped into the silence, "Neame has given us a list of drugs she needs." She held out the slate but Orrago bushed it aside.

"Let Frog see to it." Orrago's voice rose to a high-pitched waver. "Frog, come and be useful."

There was scrabbling from behind a pile of books, and a large speckled toad hopped down from where it had been basking, unnoticed, in the sun. It crossed the floor in a strange waddling walk, and then leapt onto the elderly sorcerer's lap to examine the slate.

"Frog will sort it out. I want to rest." Orrago declared. Her eyes closed and she snuggled back into her chair.

With obvious affection, Vine leaned down and tucked the blanket around the ancient sorcerer. Orrago's features relaxed. Her hand reached out and squeezed Vine's, before falling back to her lap.

The two young sorcerers manoeuvred their way to the other end of the dispensary, where Frog was by now almost completely buried under a pile of papers. Only its webbed feet were visible, splaying out behind. A period of scrabbling followed, before it re-emerged, dragging a vial of yellow liquid. Jemeryl watched as it lurched across the desk and again disappeared from sight - this time squirming into a half-open drawer.

"Why does Orrago call him Frog? Surely she knows it's a toad?" Jemeryl asked.

Before answering, Vine glanced down the dispensary. From Orrago's chair came the soft rasping of snores. "It's a joke of hers. She's aware she calls everyone the wrong name. She gets confused - she'll probably call you Iralin next time you meet. She called him Frog because she didn't see why a small amphibian should be the only one in the school she addresses correctly."

A succession of dull bumps and a forlorn croak were heard inside the drawer. Frog crawled onto the bench with its mouth holding a small bag, which it then laid beside the vial. Next, Frog headed towards a large box, half-shoved under a bench. While they waited for its return Vine took a leather-bound book from a shelf by the door and demonstrated how to enter items in the dispensary record. It was not long before Frog's task was complete. It regarded them with moist, bulging eyes for a moment, then croaked a mournful good-bye, and bounded to the ground. It waddled back to its spot in the sun.

Once they were outside again, Jemeryl asked, "How long has Orrago been like that?"

"She retired as principal six years ago, but her mind had been going for some time before that. Most of us hoped Neame would take over as principal - she was deputy to Orrago, but Bramell got the post."

"Why not Neame?" Jemeryl asked, surprised.

Vine merely shrugged by way of answer.

Back in the ward, Neame had been busy with the patient. Already he was more alert. His eyes followed her every move - in fact all the conscious patients were watching from their cots. Jemeryl knew Neame was trusted and admired by everyone who worked in the hospital. In the patients, Neame inspired a devotion that could only be called love. Jemeryl could understand the reaction. Neame was able, by her mere presence, to lighten the oppressive atmosphere of the wards.

At Neame's direction, Jemeryl and Vine supported the patient while he drank the contents of a tumbler. Once he was back, lying on the cot, Neame turned to the two younger sorcerers. She picked up the vial of liquid, and embarked on a lesson.

"You see how the effervescence fades off through the shadow-axis." She indicated a strand of the fifth dimension.

"Yes, ma'am." Vine nodded quickly.

Jemeryl was less certain.

"This is what we need to de-skew the synthesis with the other two components. Watch how their auras combine."

The porter closed his eyes and relaxed, drifting off to sleep as the drugs took effect.

Midday was approaching by the time the porter's treatment was finished. While Neame worked, the squares of light falling through the window had edged across the floor. They now lay as thin bars of dazzling silver on the windowsill. Someone had opened the door at the end of the ward to allow a breeze to circulate. The sound of waves and birds drifted down the long room. The porter was sleeping peacefully. The skin around the bite was still swollen and raw, but the bloodless sheen was gone and his breathing was soft and even.

"Did you follow the final stages?" Neame asked.

Vine nodded enthusiastically.

Jemeryl's face held a puzzled frown. "I saw how you tied things together in the fifth dimension, but I'm not sure I'd be able to do it myself."

Neame smiled at Jemeryl kindly. "I wouldn't expect you to. It needs a lot of practice. But you saw why I was doing it?"

"Most of it made sense. Perhaps if I read up on it..." Jemeryl trailed off optimistically.

"You must take the time to make sure you understand. Someday people's lives may depend on your knowing what to do. Books are no substitute for experience."

"Yes, ma'am." Jemeryl sighed, deflated. Whatever else, experience was not in short supply at the hospital. Her lack of enthusiasm must have shown.

Neame patted her on the arm. "Don't worry. We've done enough for now. If you tidy the things away..." she said, indicating Vine "You, Jemeryl, can take a message to Bramell. Tell him I won't be able to go to the meeting this afternoon. I'd like to stay with this patient. The next few hours might be crucial." Neame nodded in dismissal, but then added, "Oh... and can you see the cook and have my lunch sent over?"

"Yes ma'am."

At the exit, Jemeryl paused and looked back. Neame was standing at the foot of the bed, making ineffectual attempts to poke stray wisps of hair into place. At the same time her eyes were fixed on the porter and her astral projection was soothing the tangled strands in his aura, like a parent wiping the forehead of a sleeping child. The morning's work had been long and complex; Jemeryl was tired from just watching. It was amazing Neame could still see straight, yet her attention was given to the sick man. This was what the patients sensed - the depth of her commitment.

If Neame's compassion is felt so keenly by the ungifted, is it surprising the villagers were able to spot my own disinterest? The thought was an uncomfortable jab to Jemeryl's conscience. She left quickly and set off to deliver Neame messages. The sun was warm on her face and the breeze carried the scent of fragrant plants, however her mood took longer than usual to pick up after leaving the ward.

The primary route through the hospital complex terminated at a small courtyard, just inside the main gates. Several other paths converged on this cobbled area, including an imposing archway that opened onto the central square of the school. All of the most important buildings were situated here. Jemeryl paused in the shadow of the arch and considered the view. The main square itself was a wide grassy area, colonnaded by stumpy fruit trees. On the far side rose the white stone walls of the library, three stories high. To the north, a long low building housed the senior sorcerers' residence. The other two sides were filled with an assortment of academic and administration facilities, including Jemeryl's destination, the principal's chambers.

There was one solitary clerk, a young witch, in the scriptorium outside Bramell's office, supervising the work of three animated quill pens.

"Is Bramell in his office?" Jemeryl asked.

"Of course." The witch glanced over his shoulder before continuing, "You didn't think he'd be off looking at potions or something, did you?"

"I must admit I didn't bother searching the hospital before I came here."

"Wise. The only thing he'll happily doctor are the accounts. That's why they're so healthy."

It was a variant on a joke Jemeryl had already heard - much of the graffiti in the junior washroom was concerned with Bramell's lack of interest in herbalism. Whatever his talents as a sorcerer might be, the man had the heart and mind of a bureaucrat.

The principal looked up from the neatly arranged papers on his desk when Jemeryl entered. He regarded her with steady blue eyes. The first impression he gave was of confidence and efficiency; middle-age and authority added strength to his natural good looks. The second impression was of inflexibility and aloofness. Even sitting, he gave the impression of looking down his nose. Jemeryl made an effort not to fidget; something in Bramell's manner always made her feel like a misplaced child.

"What is it?" Bramell's voice matched his appearance, firm and well-balanced.

"Excuse me sir. I have a message from Neame. She won't be able to attend the meeting after lunch, as she has to monitor a patient. She sends her apologies."

The news clearly annoyed Bramell. His lips drew together into a tight line, but he held back any comments - it would not be proper to criticise a senior sorcerer in Jemeryl's presence.

"Would you like me to take a reply, sir?"

"No. You may go." It was a blunt dismissal, leaving Jemeryl in no doubt as to her junior status.

Once outside again, she continued on her way around the main square. Jemeryl weighed up the idea of Bramell as the renegade sorcerer. She knew Bramell was generally respected but not admired. He ran the school with firm efficiency, based on scrupulous attention to rules, but he lacked vision. Despite appearances, Jemeryl suspected that he possessed no real inner strength. Jemeryl could not picture Bramell being the one to take Lorimal's chalice; he lacked both the courage and the imagination.

An onslaught of noise shattered Jemeryl's deliberation as a group of apprentices burst from a nearby doorway. Shouting and laughing, the young witches and sorcerers streamed passed, jostling among themselves in a more or less good-natured way. Jemeryl followed in a more sedate fashion, as befitting one wearing a sorcerer's black amulet. The training of healers was one of the most important functions of the school - Jemeryl just wished it could be accomplished at a lower volume. She was certain her classmates in Lyremouth had not been so loud.

The apprentices were soon out of sight, heading towards their dormitories. The barrack-like blocks were set as far from the main square as was possible while remaining on site. School accommodation was granted strictly according to rank. Apprentices and servants lived in dormitories, while witches were two or three to a room. As a sorcerer, Jemeryl had her own bedroom, although she shared a study with Vine. The seniors got whole suites to themselves. It gave them plenty of space to carry out forbidden research. Jemeryl frowned as she considered the situation. It would all be a lot easier if she could simply search the seniors' quarters.

A short walk through interlinked courtyards brought Jemeryl to the refectory. Through the open doors, she could see long rows of tables laid ready for the midday meal. Servants paced the hall, laying out the baskets of bread. The adjacent kitchen doors were also open, allowing cool air to enter, and sound and smells to leave. From twenty yards away, Jemeryl caught the aroma of roasting meat and heard the cook bellow.

"You girl! Stop playing with the swedes or I'll take the meat-clever to you!"

The threats continued unabated until the moment the cook caught sight of Jemeryl. Abruptly his manner changed, mid-sentence, to one of self-abasement, complete with cringing posture and sickly smile.

"Good morning ma'am. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Neame would like her dinner over in the hospital." Jemeryl said, pleasantly.

"Of course, ma'am. It would be a pleasure. Was there anything specific she wanted?"

"No. I think she'll be quite happy with whatever's going."

"Thank you, ma'am. That's very, very kind of you."

The cook's transformation was startling - to put it mildly. Jemeryl wondered if he had once yelled at a sorcerer and was keen never to make the same mistake again. She would have to ask Vine. In the meantime the grovelling performance had her struggling to keep a straight face, particularly since, over his shoulder, see could see a teenage girl juggling with three large swedes, to the admiration of her friends.

Whatever the cause, the cook's personality change did not last a second after Jemeryl's departure. Before she had gone a dozen steps, his voice rose again to its customary roar. "Don't do that to the soup - use a spoon!"

The junior sorcerers' quarters took the form of a long two-story building, in the typical Ekranos fashion of whitewashed plaster and red roof tiles. Access to the rooms on the upper floor, including the study shared by Vine and Jemeryl, was via an open wooden veranda that ran the length of the building.

Jemeryl climbed the stairway at the end and walked along to her doorway. The study inside was not large, although the polished wooden floor and white walls made it seem light and airy. There was a window and two doors that lead to the adjoining bedrooms. Two desks completely filled one wall. The only other furniture was a bookcase and a battered reading chair, piled with faded cushions. A fair amount of rubbish was strewn about - virtually all of it belonged to Vine.

Jemeryl stood and stared vacantly through the window. In a few hours' time, she would be with Tevi. It was their first chance to meet since the day after their arrival in Ekranos, when Tevi had taken contract as a customs officer, ensuring the payment of port taxes and curtailing the smuggling of contraband. Work at the port involved long hours in an erratic shift rota that followed the tides. Meeting would not be possible anything like as often as Jemeryl would have wished, but that afternoon their free time coincided. Tevi's watch was due to finish in the early afternoon and she was not due back on duty until dawn. There would be plenty of time for talk - and other things.

For the first time since leaving the ward, a broad smile spread across Jemeryl's face.

Sunlight filtered down through the open hatch. It formed a bright patch in the middle of the ship's hold, but did not penetrate the distant corners and the mounds of barrels, crates and sacks that were stored there. It took the four customs officers some time to be sure nothing was hidden in the gloomy interior. In fact, it would have taken all day to fully search the hold, but there were other, quicker methods.

While her colleagues made a show of prodding sacks and prising open the occasional crate, Tevi surreptitiously keep her eyes on the ship's mate, noting how he stood, where he looked, and where he avoided looking. It was a truism that while a captain might be unaware of what was happening on the ship, the mate always knew. Even if they weren't directly involved, they would have strong suspicions. Nine times out of ten, their demeanour would betray them - if you knew what to look for. It had already been discovered that Tevi had a talent for it. A nose, as one old hand had put it.

"Is your side clear, Tevi?" one of her colleagues called out.

"Yep, I'm happy." Tevi answered the question that had been meant, rather than the one asked. In her opinion, the ship's mate was feeling guilty about something, but not contraband. It was probably an indiscretion in town, and everyone knew that sailors could be very indiscreet.

The sunlight was dazzling after the gloom of the hold. The sounds of the dock were no longer muted through the heavy wooden hull - the creak of rigging, the shouts of dock workers and the rush of the sea. Everywhere, sailors were busy, making the ship ready for departure. Tevi and the others found the senior customs officer in a patch of calm by the gangplank, talking politely with the ship's captain.

"Fore and aft holds both clear, ma'am." Tevi reported.

"Good. Wait for me on the dock."

"Yes, ma'am."

The four of them sauntered down the gangplank and went to join the small group of mercenaries, assembling on the quay. They were greeted by a teasing shout. "What kept you? We've been waiting ages."

"Some of us like to do a job properly." one of Tevi's colleagues retorted.

"True, some of us do, but that doesn't explain why you took so long."

It was the standard mercenary banter that Tevi remembered from the guildhall at Lyremouth. The disparaging jokes masked a strong team spirit. It was a way of interacting made necessary by the demands of mercenary life. Mercenaries would live together, fight together, risk their lives for each other, then maybe bury someone and move on to the next job. They had to be close, but detached.

The friendly insults continued, frequently drawing laughter, until the senior customs officer joined them on the quay and raised her voice for silence.

"Okay, that's it for today. You've got the rest of the afternoon off, but I expect to see you here at first light tomorrow. And I warn you; hangovers or other self-inflicted injuries will get no sympathy from me. If you can't work, you won't get paid."

The senior officer was also in good humour and smiled at the ritual jeers that greeted her threat. It was all part of the game and had no effect on the high-spirits as the mercenaries debated their plans for the evening on their stroll back to the guildhall.

"What do you say we all go to Dano's?" was one suggestion.

"Nah. The Navie has a more..." the speaker paused for a effect, "accommodating clientele. And I feel lucky tonight."

"That's more than I can say for whoever you pick up." someone threw back.

"I've never had any complaints."

"Probably because they all fall asleep from boredom."

Amid the general laughter, one member of the group embarked on an exaggerated and vaguely obscene pantomime. "Who's rocking the boat? (yawn) Tell the captain I feel seasick. (snore)"

Another person turned to Tevi and asked, "What about you. Have you been to the Navie yet?"

Tevi shook her head. "No I haven't, and I'm afraid I can't go with you tonight. I've arranged to see a friend." Her words raised a chorus of whoops.

"That's quick work. Hasn't been in town five minutes."

"Will you be seeing a lot of your friend?"

"Or will you be too horizontal to get a good view?"

Tevi laughed, though she could feel a faint blush rising to her face, "It's someone I met on the journey here."

"So you're not going to deny it's a lover?"

Taking Tevi's abashed expression as a 'yes', one man put his arm around her shoulder and said, "You know, I don't understand it. This person could have someone handsome, charming, sophisticated and witty like me, but instead they've let themself be picked up by you. Why?"

"Perhaps Tevi's friend values critical self-awareness." Someone else answered for her.

There was no letup in the attempted wisecracks as the group continued along the avenue away from the waterfront. They left the wharves and warehouses behind and entered the part of town that serviced the needs of sailors, full of cheap brothels and rowdy taverns - including the infamous Navie, which could fairly be described as either.

Ekranos was a sprawling affair of low buildings and open, tree-lined squares, designed for the hot summers - a lazy town, with the air of an overgrown village. The houses were characterised by whitewashed walls, deep windows and brightly coloured awnings. Only the main roads were paved; the rest were hard packed earth, dusty even after the spring rains. The people were friendly, noisy and relaxed.

The avenue opened onto the old market square; a slow backwater, even by the standards of Ekranos. It was little used for trade since the creation of the new market on the east side of town, many years before. The cobbles were cracked, with a few potholes showing. The buildings looked the worse for age. The fountain in the centre was dry and, judging by the weeds growing in its basin, had been so for some time. However, Ekranos was a wealthy town. The neglect was almost deliberate. The square seemed comfortable rather than derelict; like a well-worn but favourite pair of boots.

On one side stood the mercenary guildhall. Its proud red and gold standard hung motionless in the warm afternoon air. The doors and shutters were open to allow what breeze there was to circulate. The group of young mercenaries dawdled for a while inside the lofty entrance hall, finalising arrangements for the evening. Their laughter echoed in the cool interior. It reached a crescendo when Tevi took her leave.

A barrage of whoops and ribald remarks followed her up the stairway. They made her laugh, despite her doubts as to what Jemeryl might think if she could hear them. She also suspected that her colleagues would not be so free with their innuendoes if they realised they were unwittingly referring to a sorcerer.

Tevi reached the room she shared with two other junior mercenaries. It had a polished wooden floor and three narrow bunks, each with a shelf above the pillow and a large chest at its foot. Everything was clean and functional, although holding little in the way of luxury. A window looked down on one of the dusty side streets. The dull green paint on its half-closed shutters was crazed and flaking from the sun.

Few personal items were on show: a comb on one of the chests, a scabbard propped in one corner, a damp shirt hung by the window to dry. There was also Klara, asleep on the shelf above Tevi's bed, her beak buried in the soft feathers of her breast. She awoke with a soft caw and watched with interest as Tevi pulled a towel from her chest and left the room again, heading for the bathhouse.

Before long Tevi returned. The dirt and tar of the docks were gone. Wet hair was plastered to her head. She was rubbing it vigorously with the driest corner of her towel, when the door opened and one of her roommates entered.

"I've got a present for Klara." he announced brightly, pulling open a small square of tarpaulin to reveal a handful of live worms.

Acting more like an overjoyed child than a hardened warrior, the young man enticed Klara onto his arm then, one at a time, fed his offerings to the grateful magpie.

"You know, the way she looks at you. You'd almost think she could talk." he said, as the last of the worms disappeared.

Tevi stopped combing her hair and looked across to where the magpie perched, clutching the well-muscled forearm of her benefactor. He was right. In Klara's bead-like eyes, Tevi also could see a spark of true intelligence burning - which meant Jemeryl was once again in close link with her familiar. The sorcerer was outside the guarding shields of the school, if not already in Ekranos.

Tevi finished buttoning her shirt and walked over to reclaim the magpie. Her roommate studied her spruced-up appearance for the first time.

"You meeting someone?" he asked.

Tevi nodded.

"Don't suppose we'll see you again tonight, then."

"I'm certainly hoping you won't." Tevi threw over her shoulder as she left the room.

Laughter followed her down the hall.

There was a scattering of people around the old market square as Tevi emerged from the guildhall: a group of sailors sprawled on steps in the shade, a noisy group of children played with a ball, a pair of mercenaries were arriving. Tevi waited until all were out of earshot before speaking to Klara, perched on her shoulder.

"Can you give directions?"

"Sure thing sweetheart. Head for the southern approach and take the third turning on your left."

In no more than fifteen minutes, Tevi had reached her destination - the Inn of Singing Birds. It was a modest establishment, located on a square in a quiet part of town, well away from the docks. The unremarkable facade blended in with the other buildings. The shutters on the downstairs windows were closed, but the wide double door was propped open by an old stick on one side and a large stone on the other. Jemeryl had evidently chosen their rendezvous in Ekranos to reduce the risk of meeting anyone they knew; the inn was neither prestigious enough for sorcerers nor lively enough for mercenaries.

Tevi stepped through the door into a long thin room. A row of tables and benches ran up either side. The floor was made up of red and white mosaic tiles and the walls were covered in uneven cream-coloured plaster. In one corner was a polished wooden counter with barrels stacked behind. From what Tevi could judge, the bar was not yet open for business but would be so before long. Tankards were lined up and a waiter was sweeping the floor.

As soon as he saw Tevi, the waiter put his broom aside and came over. "Excuse me. You are the mercenary who has come to met Madam Jemeryl?"

The words were said routinely in the lilting local accent, but Tevi could sense the disapproval. It was something she was starting to get used to. Ordinary people dared not show their resentment of the Coven, but they regarded Tevi as a traitor to her own kind. I must be predestined to have folk disapprove of my choice of lover, she thought, but it's an improvement to the islands - they aren't likely to stone me to death over it.

"Yes, is she about?" was all Tevi said aloud.

"Please, follow me."

The waiter set off at a brisk pace across the tiled floor. A narrow doorway at the rear of the bar led to a inner courtyard. From there, a flight of stairs took them to the upper floor.

"Will you be staying tonight?" The waiter asked.

"Yes."

"But you won't be requiring a separate room?"

"No, thank you." Tevi bit back a less polite reply. She was sure the waiter already knew the answer. He just wanted to make sure Tevi knew that he knew.

They stopped outside a door. "Madam Jemeryl is in here. She is expecting you." The waiter gave a curt nod and trotted back along the corridor.

Irritated by his manner, Tevi pushed open the door without knocking. She had a brief impression of polished floorboards, solid furniture and faded yellow walls. Before she had a chance to fully take stock of her surroundings, Jemeryl launched herself from a nearby chair and threw her arms around the startled mercenary, threatening to knock the pair of them over.

Prompted initially by the need to stop herself from falling, Tevi clung to Jemeryl's shoulders, swaying as she fought to steady her balance. As the risk of imminent collapse retreated, the embrace became more tender. Laughing, Tevi gently pushed Jemeryl away and looked into her eyes.

"You found your way here all right? I asked the staff to show you up when you arrived."

"I gathered that." Tevi frowned. "I don't think the waiter approves of us."

"In what way?"

"As in someone ungifted, like me, forsaking ordinary citizens and becoming a sorcerer's lover."

"Some people have overactive imaginations. He probably thinks I've bewitched you and turned you into a mindless slave who must obey my every whim, no matter how debauched or degrading."

"Better watch out Tevi - I think Jemeryl's starting to get ideas." Klara offered a warning.

Closing her eyes, Jemeryl snuggled back into Tevi's arms. "I've got the ideas already. Come on - let me show you how much I've missed you."
 

Continued in chapter 2.

Return to Main Page