I sat down in geography class, and took the seat right next to Rabert Frantlin as usual. "Morning," I said.

  "Ah yes, a new day has definitely-"

  "No," I said. "It is morning. It could even be a good morning. I have greeted you in a conventional manner."

  He looked sly. "I see, we certainly are re-"

  I held up a hand to cut him off. "We do a lot of euphemisms. But sometimes I definitely need to be able to talk to you like a person, Rabert."

  He paused, eyes down, like he was trying to figure out if this was allowed. "Morning," he said after a minute.

  "Good. Now, again, thank you for the help you've given me so far. And I look forward to learning more as we go forward. But the last twenty-four hours has been rather trying and I don't want to worry about saying the wrong thing to you."

  "I heard you had... an event," he said with difficulty.

  I nodded to encourage him. "Yes. It was not serious, but it did get my temper up. I'm going to try to resolve it myself. I had assumed it was because of our... mutual acquaintances," I said, reluctant to refer specifically to the Byeview Boys. Well shit, now I'm talking in circles about things. "But my best leads turned up conclusive dead ends, and all the most likely answers now are that this was entirely unrelated to our cooperation."

  He nodded, following me a little better now that I was shrouding somewhat. "I understand and I am glad that your pointed difficulties have not been a reflection of our association," he said. "But you remain committed to resolving this situation on your own?"

  "For the time being," I said, more carefully. "I don't want anyone to overzealously offer what they perceive to be help right now. And... how to put this?... I do want to demonstrate that I'm not going to fall over and lean on you whenever something inconveniences me. I do need to be independent and self-sufficient to a degree. Not, however, to a destructive degree. I think that I need to demonstrate that I can handle some problems on my own, but also need to demonstrate that I have the sense to approach you with a request if I do need help."

  He paused, rubbing his chin with the crook of thumb and forefinger, nodding as he did. It was a surprisingly complicated gesture. "I see. You don't want to be treated like a child folded under our umbrella. Both to prove your value, but also to prove your leadership. Initiative and discernment both."

  "And, not insignificantly, to reduce my burden on your resources," I said.

  He laughed. "Hardly a burden! But I do see the various points you have raised here."

  "One thing that my brother taught me, quite accidentally," I said, "was that helping someone effectively, always starts with knowing the right questions to ask. Assumptions can turn effort into interference without us ever noticing."

  Rabert gave me an appraising look. "Hmm. That's... a fascinating way to look at it. And very well-considered. But for your consideration?..."

  "Yes?"

  "Sometimes offering help is not about reaching best outcomes," Frantlin said with a wide, winning smile. "Sometimes helping and meddling is about reminding someone whether they are big or small."

  Oh, a veiled threat. Now we're back in familiar territory.

  Let me try my hand at this. "And, generally, someone might need to be just the right size, to make a good fit in a particular position," I hazarded.

  He winced. "Maybe leave that to me. It sounds dirty when you try it."

  "Dammit."

  Well, what a morning. I started out with all this energy to find the assassins and get answers, I had plans and agendas and all. But the only living relative, friend, business associate or friendly acquaintance that any of them had in Hearstcliff, was a single cousin that would have killed the boy off himself if he'd been able.

  At least there's lunch. It was some sort of casserole with tomato sauce, thin-sliced sausages, melty cheese and cavatappi pasta. Surprisingly good stuff. I was digging in when the rest of the posse showed up. "You're always eating before us," Elica complained.

  "If you had my powers you'd never be more than arm's reach from a snack," I retorted.

  "I'd never move," Vancy said with a dreamy wistful sigh.

  "Let's talk about weekends," I said. "It's noon on Twoday, not too early to start planning. Vancy, I was hoping that we could indulge in a picnic lunch. Somewhere far away from music."

  Vancy giggled. "Music specifically? I would welcome the suggestion based on wanting somewhere quiet to eat, certainly... but music seems a strange point to stick at." She waved a hand vaguely around, somewhat towards the center of the dining hall.

  After all, this is a cafeteria full of teenagers in the middle of the school day. The noise level was pretty rowdy, there were thousands of us in an enclosed space. The walls are brickwork, the floor is tiled, the ceiling is glass-topped behind a network of wooden rafters. If you tune it out so you can't hear distinct voices, it sounds like you're standing near a waterfall, almost nothing in here absorbs sound at all. It is all suffused with that sourceless glow that permeates Skyside Hearstcliff, and most of the visual impression was a tumult of bodies pressing past each other through the aisleways and walkways, people trying to get from one side to the other, tables or serving lines or tray returns or snack tables. The largest segment of colors were a blur of blue and gray but it was hardly a consistent show there, just a dominant theme against which all the riotous colors of fashion would stand starkly.

  Not that I can talk smack about colors, when I came back from my manhunt for Anolm Hardted I exchanged my imposing black outfit for a vibrant egg-yolk-yellow sleeveless gown with royal-blue sash, shoes and gloves. It's not just a strong complement to my skin and hair, it's also a close match to my eyes.

  The room is perpetually loud, raucous, energetic and disordered, and the few times it has gone quiet and watchful has always been because I was making a scene in here.

  And then through a parting of the human crowds popped an opening and Yheta came strolling through, waving to the four of us.

  I found that I just did not want to discuss my recent activities with Yheta. The javelin, the investigations, the break-ins, the maneuverings... I was tired from doing them, and I did not want to exhaust myself further by discussing them. So when he hustled over with a worried face and clipping legs, I waved him to stand down, deflecting questions. "Nah, I'm fine, rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated," I said. "Now then: is anyone going to have an objection if I bring Enefiat Trazom with us to County Tarcelle? I think he needs to get out some, but if it's going to be stressful I can make other arrangements."

  Vancy stared like I'd offered to bring the king with us. "Enef- how? How do you know Enefiat Trazom well enough to invite him to- to- to my town?"

  Yheta cut in before I answered. "Oh, the Harigolds always throw the best parties. Trazom performed there a few times that I recall. Meadowtam's celebration culture is second only to Hearster, but you'd never know it. Capitol folk think the province parties are just a bunch of hay festivals and church potlucks, but the society pages there are only barely behind the top tiers of Hearstcliff's galas. Trazom probably spent a quarter of his touring schedule in Meadowtam. He's not very accessible during formal concerts but if he's performing at a private party he's pretty easy to get to know."

  "You got to know him!?" Vancy said with another choked-off squeak.

  "Girl, drink water, you're scaring me," Elica said. "I'm star-struck too but you're going to fall over."

  Vancy started drinking water and regulating her breathing. Yheta sat with his hands folded over his knee enjoying the waves of commotion my question had raised.

  "Guys, he's a good musician but he's still a human being! He's enrolled in our school! He's right over there for g-"

  "Don't point!" Elica and Vancy and Larianne and Rinnie all hissed at the same time.

  Yheta shot me a mischievous grin. "You should wave him over, he should hear this."

  Vancy slapped at his knee. "No! Behave!"

  This nation only has one actual celebrity. The original story for the game only needed one. So Enefiat Tazom is Elvis, the Beatles, Liszt, Brad and Timothee all rolled together. And he's listed as one of my twelve love interests. So, I'm probably the luckiest woman in the whole world, if we're keeping track. Anyway, what that means is that the entire kingdom's culture of celebrity exists entirely in one person, and he goes to my school. It kind of skews the perspectives a little.

  Odds are that Vancy and Elica have a much more balanced and realistic view of this than I do.

  We did not wave him over, but I did get the blessing to bring him along, even with the understanding that he was not going to be asked to play or perform and that he was really just trying to socialize away from his music.... at least until it's time for the Auditioneer's Hall event.

  So, Vancy had ninety-six hours to get her breathing under control and her nerves soothed before she got to spend the day with him shopping for perfumes, seeing the sights, and having a picnic lunch.

  Yheta leaned in close to me. "She's going to be a nervous wreck. This is the best week of her life." He smirked, and I laughed back. I held up for a high-five, and he took a second to remember this custom before he smacked my palm with his.

  I sat back on the same steel throne I had conjured at breakfast. "I just wish I could get some kind of progress. Or at least a lack-of-progress communication."

  There were plenty of students in sorcery class. And most of them needed more than a few minutes worth of instruction per day. I occasionally got reports from Magister Cheresa Braux that she was still working on getting me answers for my unique condition, and my unique needs, but most of that was in the form of doing a ton of book research after hours. As far as in-class instruction went, I needed nothing at all. My gestures and forms were some of the best around, I could execute my spells with a speed, grace, efficiency and confidence that few of my fellow sorcerers could boast.

  And what that means is that I spend an hour a day just sort of fiddling about with my magic and not actually learning or training at all. We're only seven instruction days into this year and I'm already burning with impatience. This is supposed to be the best training that anyone can get, this is Hearstcliff Academy! And everyone knows this is the absolute peak.

  I understand that sorcerers are treated as being the unwanted stepchildren of the magic community but it is unfathomable that our class is this unhelpful!

  Kimothy shrugged and volleyed a truly impressive amount of sarcasm at me. "Yeah it sure is inconvenient that your entirely-unique, never-before-seen magical phenomena has not been resolved in a week after just an hour per day. You only interact with the least-understood branch of magic in a way that nobody else has ever heard of before, tipping all the scales and breaking all the rules. That should make it easier to give you not only a theory-based explanation for what's going on here, but also practical guidance on how to overcome the last few limitations that you do still suffer from. There's no chance that all the bizarre and unprecedented hogwash that you represent is going to be hard for anyone to figure out after merely a week, especially while also dealing with all the normal problems of people learning to use magic."

  "Oh shush," I said back.

  It's not really a big secret why wizardry and sigilry are so much higher regarded than sorcery. Sigil-work can sit in a place indefinitely and do a job, it is easy to commodify and works with extremely well-defined rules. Wizardry is vast and powerful and can be used for everything from controlling the weather to the earth itself, up to and including just setting a city-sized region on fire. The wizards are the ones that safeguard agriculture, shipping trade, warfare, disaster prevention, and border defense.

  Sigils can empower a business or a family or a settlement or a customer. Wizardry benefits societies and cities. Sorcery is magic tricks and some surprising tactics. Sometimes a sorcerer with an affinity for brick or stone or wood will try to get a job in construction or mining only to put dozens of people out of work, or a water-bender will curve a river to harvest fish and piss off the local hatcheries and anglers.

  It's always going to be a lower priority to bolster sorcery training, because sorcery is really only important to sorcerers.

  Unique anomalous sorcerers more so. Kimothy was pointing the fact that just having one accredited magister trying to find out what makes my situation such an exception to the rules is already so far from the norm that I should be grateful for this small consideration. But "grateful for small considerations" is not really the way my path leads. I need every advantage I can get, and I need them soon!

  "Bah. Whatever. Kimothy, I could use your help, over at the range. Accompany me?"

  We left the academic instruction area, the small area for the safer and most well-regulated abilities. If we're going to do anything really dramatic we're supposed to take it over to the firing range, bring a partner, stay behind the yellow line, and only aim downrange at designated targets. I flew over there by lifting the steel chair I was in and flying that, Kimothy turned himself into a thick fog and roiled over in that direction with uncanny speed, then reformed himself right next to me.

  I was reshaping the throne into a more solid barrier, chest-high, reinforced, and buttressed to hold it up against force, as well as adding more steel to bulk it up. Kimothy watched for a minute. "What is it you need me for?"

  "In a moment I'm going to create an attack form over at the far end of the range," I said. "Next to Target 2. I want you to fill up the area with fog and harden it as an extra layer of defense. I'm trying a new variation of an existing idea."

  "Give me a signal when you're starting," he said, and started flooding the area with his mists. They swelled and banked and stilled at his order, obedient to his whims. I could not get even a 5% affinity for fog, it just eluded me every time.

  "Step one," I said, and conjured void. The far end of the range, just a few feet from Target 2, a disturbance formed in the air. The wind howled in towards it, and the lights in that area seemed to dim. The whipping wind picked up dust and the warped channels in the air could be seen, spiraling sharply around my whirlpooling singularity.

  "Do it," I said to Kimothy. "Step two!" And then I formed a thick steel shell around the singularity, a hollow orb an inch thick with a radius of a couple feet, and released the void a moment later.

  BLAAAANG

  What I've learned is that when I release my matter-compressing voids, they normally returned all the displaced matter instantaneously with an energetic burst. This time the normal concussive shockwaves of that release were added to a metallic overtone as steel burst like a balloon, stretching thin before shredding away and sundering apart, flinging ragged jagged metal edges in front of the expanding blast wave of exploding air. The eardrum-assaulting airburst was almost muffled by Kimothy's stifling fog bank, but the vibration in the ground let us know that considerable force had been imparted. When I put a metal shell around the explosion I formed a fragmentation grenade.

  "Okay, release now," I said to Kimothy, and he dispelled his fog. Steel fragments embedded in that misty barrier dropped to the ground.

  The wooden target was entirely erased, sawn off shin-high to a couple of splintery stumps. The damage at the far end of the range was hard to estimate from back here.

  "Whatcha doing?" said a nosy sorceress, flying up to us from behind, shoving her head in between me and Kimothy.

  "New attack form," I said. "Adding a fragmentation layer to my implosion-explosions."

  "Nifty," she said, and drifted forward, floating through the destroyed target area.

  Kimothy and I followed her, coasting down along the concrete-floored shooting range. Normally there's sawdust spread around, but today that was burned to ashes before my black-hole attack had a chance to obliterate it.

  "Hey, Kimothy," I called out. "How hard is that fog of yours anyway?"

  "Against this kind of damage, probably equivalent to softwood or ice," he said. "Not oak, maybe ash."

  I stared down, measuring with my eyes. "So, this piece of steel here penetrated the equivalent of twelve feet of ash wood?"

  "No, only six feet," he said, staring down. "I couldn't maintain the fog within six feet of your focal point, the wind shredded it. But, six feet of ash wood? That's...."

  The sorceress looked over from a wall. "There's a lot of this stuff embedded in the walls, too. Targets One and Three both took lethal damage."

  "Lethal?" I asked skeptically. Those targets were neither very close by. I was not sure they'd have that much damage.

  "Yeah," she said. "Look at how sharp these cuts are. If this was flesh and not pine, it would cut bone-deep. And these smaller bits are embedded deeply enough I think they'd penetrate most armors."

  I walked over and took a look- yeah, that would slice until it hit something hard. It looked like the steel had deformed outward, stretching thin until it could not sustain, and so the fragments that flew out were all as paper-thin as could be. So steel-hard, razor-edged, high-velocity projectiles were devastating to soft materials and not too gentle on stone, oak and concrete. If I ever released this in an unshielded populated area I would be a complete monster.

  "Good," I said, and started dispelling the steel shard-weapons. At this rate, I would soon be as dangerous as the weakest of wizards.