Madam Jaffer stood at the front of the auditorium and raised her hand. “Attention, please. Today we will discuss field assignments for the semester.” She consulted a paper. “As you are undoubtedly aware, these tasks vary from year to year. Some are more complex than others. But all,” she looked out over the assembly, “are important. We do not send students out on make-work projects.”

  She turned the paper over. “You will receive your individual assignments over the next week. Many of you will form groups. The reasons will become clear as you review your mission; some demand the collaboration of multiple Mages.”

  “Finally,” she turned to a white-haired elf who sat on the podium to her right, “we are trialing a partnership this year with our colleagues in the Elven Academy. Mage Aenwyn is a renowned seer who will help develop one or more of our assignments this year. What form they will take is to be determined.”

  “I remind all of you that you must have a Blade before embarking on a task. No exceptions.” She stared at the group. “Questions?”

  Of course there were. I tuned out most of the queries, which were largely inane and repetitive. I nudged Aelyn, who was nodding off in his seat.

  “Any problem with getting away?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Already cleared at the Residence and the Academy.” He yawned. “Perhaps they’ll send us to Sha’Na’Lyona.”

  “I wish.”

  We exited the auditorium in a gaggle of students, and I headed for my next lecture on scrying. As approached the classroom a tall, exquisitely dressed man moved to intercept me. He was around 60 years of age, greying at the temples, and had not a strand of hair out of place.

  “Lady Circe?”

  “Yes?”

  “I am Master Reyn, barrister at law.”

  Oh, Goddess. Were cockroaches universal as well?

  “And?”

  “I represent a Master Kohl. He would like to discuss a matter of mutual interest and asks if you would attend him this evening.”

  “What matter, specifically?”

  “He prefers to introduce that himself.” If a theranaq could smile, it would resemble Master Reyn.

  “Tell him I would be delighted. Will Yellowset suit?”

  “Perfect. And Lady Circe—the invitation specifies you alone.”

  “I attend with my Blade, or not at all.”

  His smile changed not one iota.

  “Of course.” He handed me an envelope of heavy vellum. “Good day.”

  He departed and I opened the letter. The invitation was for both me and a companion.

  “Aelyn,” I said, “this is an embarrassing question, but what is the next Elven holiday, and when?”

  “Don’t feel bad. The only reason I can keep the festivals straight is because I had to attend each one. The family, you understand. The next is in a tenday: Sha’noch. It is an early fall feast, which celebrates—” he frowned and wrinkled his nose, which I found absolutely endearing, “some odd type of root vegetable.”

  “Perfect,” I said. “Sha’noch…Sha’noch…”

  He raised his eyebrows.

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  We walked from our house, which took about a trek. I wore a light gold skirt and green blouse that I had found in a little store off one of the plazas near the Academy. Aelyn’s hair clip held a central swath of my tresses, and the rest hung free. The streets were slowly quieting from their frenetic daytime pace. From time to time, I could see the shadowy forms of elves pacing us ahead and to the sides.

  “He’ll push,” I said. “Push until he meets resistance, and then he’ll seek another avenue.”

  “And why are we attending, then? The advantage is all his.”

  “That is precisely what I hope he thinks.”

  We turned onto the wide avenue that led to Kohl’s villa. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an elf slip up a tree so quickly that I might have imagined it.

  “Please,” I said, “on your best behaviour. No holes in people or things.”

  Aelyn grunted, and I squeezed his arm.

  “Thank you, my love.”

  An obsequious servant escorted us from gate to door. He swung the portal open and announced us.

  “Mage Lady Circe and her Blade Lord Aelyn.”

  The entrance hall was empty. The servant bowed and made to close the door.

  “Darling,” I said, “there’s no one here. Shall we explore the gardens?”

  Aelyn nodded and reached for my hand. A man appeared from the back of the hall. He was of average height but built so solidly that he appeared to be a solid cylinder. The sleeves of his jacket bulged, suggesting fat laid on muscle. His face was flat and expressionless, and his eyes lacked any warmth.

  “Lady Circe,” he said. “Welcome to my house.”

  “Master Kohl, I presume. My Blade, Lord Aelyn.”

  He nodded. “Krant. Show Lord Aelyn to the sitting room and bring refreshments for him.”

  “I stand with my Mage,” said Aelyn. His voice was neutral.

  Kohl nodded. I began to wonder if he was able to form any expression whatsoever.

  “My office, then.” He turned on his heel and strode into the rear of the house. I ran my hand along a side table as we passed it. The surface was unblemished and shone under a dim light.

  His study was a trite monument to masculinity. The desk was overlarge, of dark wood, and completely empty. Crossed swords decorated one side, bookshelves another, and on the wall behind Kohl was mounted an entire adult daktar, mouth open in a hungry gape. He stared at me in silence. I rested my hands on the arms of the chair and held his gaze.

  “I assume,” he said at length, “that you know why I had you attend?”

  “Rather, we were invited. But enlighten us, please,” I said.

  “I employ the skilled, Lady Circe. Your activities have caught my interest.”

  “I am but a student.”

  “One who defeated a master Mage in a duel two days ago.”

  “One lucky success is meaningless.”

  “Do you gamble, Lady Circe?”

  “Only when I know that I will win.”

  “That is not always easy to predict.”

  He reached into a drawer, pulled out a pair of octahedrons, and shook them in his hand.

  “For instance, what do you think the chance is of rolling a three?”

  “Please be precise. Do you mean either of the dies will show a three, or the sum is three?”

  He blinked. “The latter.”

  “One chance in eighteen.”

  For the first time, his expression changed.

  “How did you know that?

  “I prefer to know the odds before I gamble.”

  He paused. “I find myself lacking a Mage. I would be interested in obtaining your service.”

  “And if I decline?”

  “Ah.” His posture changed fractionally, and I was reminded of a daktar circling just below the surface of a pond. “None of us are alone, do you agree?”

  “We all form a community.”

  “Just so. Fellow students, colleagues who heal, fellow travellers.” His gaze flickered to Aelyn. “Lovers. All valuable in their own way.”

  We sat in silence for a few moments. Then I nodded.

  “You’ve given me a good deal to consider, Master Kohl. Of course, we cannot decide until the feast of Sha’noch next. It is an Elven custom.” I raised an eyebrow. “I assume this meets with your approval?”

  If I had not been watching, I would have missed the fractional hesitation. He nodded and rose.

  “In a tenday.”

  He did not show us out. I leaned against the doorframe of his office to adjust a sandal and then left with Aelyn.

  Aelyn was silent on the way home. I did not see our Elven guards this time. When we closed and locked the door, he finally raised an eyebrow. I motioned him to the sofa and moved a pile of paper on the table to one corner.

  “If left to my own devices,” he said, “I would consider that a waste of a perfectly good evening. But judging from your smile, we accomplished something.”

  I pulled up three spells and placed them in a row.

  “I started scrying classes last tenday,” I said, “and two days ago, Lady Arndt showed me how to link two locations in space together.”

  “I recall. And you have made some progress?”

  “Let’s see.” I activated the first spell.

  “What is that?”

  “Hall table.” I listened but heard nothing. “Let’s try the study.”

  “Pardon?”

  I closed the first spell and activated the second. Kohl’s voice came out clearly.

  “—Shank, or Shock, or something. Some kind of Elven holiday. Find out about it.”

  “Sir.” I recognized the voice of the servant Krant. “Anything else?”

  “When is that spoiled brat coming?”

  “Tomorrow, sir. Just after noon.”

  “I told him to come in the morning.”

  “He appears to have difficulty arising, sir.”

  “He needs a reminder as to who holds his mark.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, off with you.”

  We heard a clink from a glass, and liquid pouring.

  “Fucking Mages.”

  There was no further conversation for the next few minutes, and I deactivated the spell.

  Aelyn sat in silence for a few tocks. Then he shook his head and looked at me. “You know,” he said, “I still can’t remember the name of that root vegetable.”