“Unsheath the sword, would you lad? Can’t be too careful you see, and you have held the sword already.” Rall did as he was asked, laying the naked blade back down on the bench. Were his eyes deceiving him, or was it a bit more polished now?

“Come on, Arron, we’re not out of danger yet!” Corana led Arron out the long pier to the very end of the docks, as guards began streaming through the streets and alleyways toward them.

“Whatever you’re going to do, make it quick, I don’t think they plan on capturing us!” Arron faced the incoming horde, ready to buy her time if necessary. He saw out of the corner of his eye as she flipped the coin she showed him in her workroom into the water, eyes closed as if making a wish. Then he nearly dropped his sword in surprise, as a small boat simply appeared in the water without warning or fanfare. At the bow stood a gaunt man, his blue-tinged skin hanging loosely off his bones. He looked soaked, his ratty robes dripping river water and his lifeless hair shining with it.

“As you have called, so have I come.” his voice even sounded wet somehow. “The fare is paid, your passage secured. Step into my vessel and speak your destination.”

Corana took hold of Arron’s arm and stepped into the boat, drawing him with her. “T’isstai, to the center of the lake at the source of Tessarill River.” A loud roar of rage distracted her for a moment as the battered Woric appeared from a dark alley leading into the docks, followed closely by a contingent of the guard.

“STOP, you venomous elf-skinned harpy! I will flay you in strips and salt your pus-ridden wounds for what you have done to me!” He screamed was he waved his hands in erratic motions.

The guard around Woric jumped back nervously as cascading wisps of energy began to bleed from his fingers. “I’ll burn you, you hear! I’ll turn your flesh to ash, and bone to coal!”

Woric slowly paced forward, with every step the power in his hands grew stronger and more chaotic. He lifted a hand shining with coruscating sparks to point almost lazily at Corana and the boat.

Turning towards the river spirit Corana screamed frantically, “GO!” The gaunt ferryman met her gaze with a doleful one, river water pouring from his eyes like tears, but without the usual accompanying emotion.

Arron had oddest sense of falling as the water receded around the boat, and for a moment he thought the river was running dry. Then a moment later he felt himself being shoved backwards against the hull by some powerful invisible force as a swell two men high hit the small boat launching it forward.

He struggled to keep his seat rather than be flung out the back like a child’s doll made of rags and straw in a high wind. Arron struggled against the force of acceleration to turn towards where Woric stood only to see a a brightly shining star floating above the whole of the pier. It launched into the water where the boat had been only moments before. A great explosion of steam and fury filled the air in its wake, obscuring the dock from view.

“Whew, I guess he doesn’t like me any more. I sure hope he enjoys that very hot steam bath he created for himself and his men.” Corana shook her head with a quirky sort of a grin, while Arron fought sickening horror at the realization how close he truly came to death.

“Three days,” the spirit spoke interrupting both Arron’s and Corana’s thoughts, “to Lake Tessarill.” Gazing unblinking into Corana’s eyes the spirit continued, “Be warned mortal, you walk into path of the gods.” It took a moment for Corana’s mind to comprehend the strange note in the spirit’s words. Then she realized this was the first time the spirit had ever offered her a warning. Not once before had it uttered such a thing, in the ten years she had dealt with it.

“I thank you for the warning, T'isstai, but I have little choice.” The River god simply nodded disinterestedly at her reply.

Arron drew breath to question the god further but a quick elbow to the ribs from Corana stopped him cold. “Do not pester the god, unless you wish us to swim the way.”

“So, three days then... I guess you were right to gather plenty of supplies.” Arron watched the water flow by the side of the boat at dizzying speed for several moments until he felt lightheaded. Corana pulled him away from the side when she saw his attention on the river.

“Don’t watch the waters pass, it can be hypnotic and I don’t want you falling in. At the speed we are travelling you might not survive.” Arron nodded as he wiggled closer to the center of the boat, drawing himself very close to Corana. The boat was not large, travel would by necessity be close quarters.

“Corana... I was thinking, about how we snuck into your tower.” She turned from watching the trees flow by to offer him that quirky smile.

“Thinking you’d like to try it some more, now that we’re alone and have plenty of free time?” she placed a hand on his, hers soft and delicate compared to his calluses of hard work and sword training.

“Well, no, I mean yes, I... I wanted to know if it meant anything, or if you were just playing the part. I didn’t want to assume anything.” He looked down at her small hand on his, then back up to her eyes.

“Oh Arron, I am sorry for teasing you so. You are very handsome, and I did get carried away with things. Believe it or not, the life of a sorceress can become lonely, and maybe given the opportunity I went a little further than necessary. But I don’t regret it. Do you?” Her smile had changed; gone was the uneven smirk she seemed to enjoy so much and in its place stood an honest, gentle smile.

“I really don’t. Believe it or not, I haven’t really had much experience in that area. Many of the guards, well by the stories they tell you’d wonder why Gaerbron wasn’t overflowing with children. But I never really found someone I wanted to court, and I don’t want to just chase the conquest, do you understand?” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly as he bared his soul.

“I do. You’re a good man, Arron, and I’ve been a woman long enough to know how valuable that is. And you’re a damn good kisser, too! I mean it, you took my breath away. But you know who I am, who I must be. I have done and will do things you will not approve of, to protect my people. I have to wonder if I would even be worthy of the kind of good man I have seen that you are.” She dropped her gaze to inspect the soaked planks of the boat at her feet.

He gently lifted her chin with his fingertips to catch her gaze again. “No, Corana, it was wrong of me to judge you for your actions. I apologize for that. Your loyalty to Gaerbron is inspiring, and it is not my place to call you to task for doing what is best for everyone. Will you forgive me for that?”

Her lips were her only answer, crushed desperately against his own. For long moments they held each other as the wind and water rushed by, uncaring of the danger or the wonder. When they parted, breath ragged and needing, Arron caught a glimpse of the boatman. His cold unfeeling gaze rested squarely on the pair. Suddenly cold, Arron pulled away a bit. Corana looked hurt for the briefest of moments, before she too noticed T’isstai’s attention and that lopsided smile returned.

“One must wonder if a river god is interested in affairs of the heart, or if only cold water flows in his veins.”

---

Jaron stood his post at the gates of Lussax, watching the expanse of road winding lazily northward as the sun slowly sank to the horizon in the west. Few people travelled the northern road since the Empire closed off its borders, there just wasn’t much to the north except trees and beasts. The imperial capitol drank from the very same river as Lussax, at the mouth where it met the ocean, but the passage was wide enough that trade continued unhindered by imperial interests.

None of which mattered much to Jaron, as he stood his post. Everyone knew it was a punishment post for guards caught sleeping on duty, and Jaron was determined to earn his way back to real work. The boredom might kill him otherwise.

He only rested his eyes for a moment. The sun hadn’t even moved in the sky when he opened them again. But a dark line filled the road at the edges of his vision, appearing as if by magic from the wooded road. He collected the spyglass from its case, carefully set it on the mount and peered through it.

The Imperial standard flew white as snow above a line of perfectly groomed horsemen. White tunic-clad soldiers and dignitaries flowed forth in an orderly procession, at the head of what might be a small army.

“C-Captain!” he shouted with a stutter as he staggered past the door, “Captain!, come up here quick, the Empire is invading!”

---

Rall slumped further into the hot bath so that only his nose and eyes peeked over the surface of the water. Spying the back of Greta in her own copper tub, this was heaven. A hot bath to soothe a week’s worth of aches and pains, a pretty girl just a few feet away, and good food! The memory of the candied pork he had just eaten still made his mouth water.

“So are you planning on soaking the whole day?” Greta giggle from her own bath. “I’m sure you look like a shriveled prune by now.”

“Hey, it’s not often a simple apprentice gets a hot bath to relax in. Especially given my old master.” Rall grinned as he splashed a little hot water her direction, “Besides, I don’t see you climbing out to get dressed.”

“I’ll get out soon enough...” Greta said with a pause, “Well maybe in an hour, the water feels soooo good!” After several minutes, Greta turned around in her tub, resting her arms on the side with a questioning look.

“Rana... Why did you decide to pretend to be a girl? Surely there were other ways you could have disguised yourself. I don’t know any boys who would choose to do that.” Rall made a face, he didn’t really want to think about it too much himself, but now the idea was in his head and he couldn’t stop wondering himself.

“I... I don’t know. I’ve always been small and kind of well... soft? And the soldiers used to always tease me about it. They kept saying I was Arron’s girlfriend and stupid things like that. Not that Arron ever let it bother him, except he always kind of protected me, you know? Like the big brother I never had. And when I was trying to think of ways to get away from my master, it just sort of occurred to me that I could do it. I don’t think he believed I could do it, but he went and bought me a dress anyway.”

“Wow. He must really care about you.” Greta’s eyes looked distant for a moment. “I remember him trying to convince Father you were being abused and needed help. He really did seem desperate to get you out safely. I guess if I had a little brother or sister I might be the same way.”

“To be honest, if someone told me a month ago I was going to be wearing a dress and bathing with a girl, I would have thought them mad. It’s almost like it should bother me, but it doesn’t. I don’t know why.”

Greta grinned saucily at him, “Well, it’d work even better if you had breasts. Most girls our age do, you know.”

Rall accidentally inhaled a mouthful of water and came up sputtering, his face bright red. Greta giggled madly at his discomfort, so Rall decided to even the score.

“What if I did? What if they were bigger than yours! You’d be jealous then, wouldn’t you!” He cupped his hands in front of his chest as if carrying a pair of grapefruit, then turned his cupped hands and splashed more water at her. Greta laughed along with him, but he couldn’t help imagining.

“Umm, Rana...” What if he did have breasts? No one would question his disguise then.... And he couldn’t help admitting that he did like breasts. “Rana, you’re doing it again!” Granted, generally on other people, but... “RANA!”

The shout broke him out of his reverie, and followed Greta’s incredulous gaze downward...

“First’s ashes, what did I do?” he yelped.

“It looks like you grew breasts!” Greta retorted “Is this another of those illusions, like you’ve been using to hide the scales?” Rall tentatively, almost fearfully reached up out of the water to poke one. It was solid. Well, as solid as soft fleshy bits generally tend to be.

“Ummm, no...” Rall could hear the tremble of fear in his voice, and he couldn’t seem to make it go away. Before he knew it Greta was out of her tub and holding him comfortingly, talking in a calm, quiet voice.

“It’ll be alright. This will help your disguise, and if you made it happen you can make it go away I’m sure. Just calm down, you’ve gone as white as a sheet.” Her voice was very soothing and was holding him so protectively, so in moments he calmed down. He looked down at them again, they seemed so big but he was pretty sure they were still smaller than Greta’s. He cupped them again, then poked at them, a curious expression on his face.

“Aren’t they supposed to be sensitive? I mean, it’s like holding a waterskin.” he questioned as he poked at his breast again.

Greta looked at him oddly for a second, then reached down and pinched his nipple hard.

“Hey, what are you... huh, that didn’t hurt. What weird kind of transformation is this anyway?” As he said it, the breasts popped, a flash of heat and steam washing over his face. The steam was hot, but not uncomfortably so.

“Rana, I think you need to see somebody about learning what you’re doing today. You’re going to hurt yourself casting spells all willy-nilly like this!”

Rall shook his head, “I’m really not trying to! Spells don’t work like this, well, they’re not supposed to. Normally you need a formula and a source of power to do anything! I can tell you right now, I know as much about incantation as I do about blacksmithing, and I surely don’t know how to tap my own power. That takes years and years to learn!”

Greta didn’t seem all that convinced, “Well what do you call all this then?” she gestured at Rall.

Raking his fingers through his hair Rall thought it over a bit. “I don’t know, but it breaks all the rules, so that alone is reason enough to seek advice I guess.”

“Okay, come on then, let’s get up and go. I’m out now, so you can get out too.”

Rall climbed out of the tub regretfully, looking longingly at the still-hot water as he wiped himself dry with cloths provided by the bathhouse. He dressed quickly, but still Greta managed to be ready several minutes before him, and she led the way out and into the streets of Lussax.

“I’ve never been to the mage’s guild district, but I know where it is. I’ll lead you there, but you might have to do something to show them we have a purpose there. Most of the guilds don’t allow visitors.” Rall nodded as he followed her, hoping they wouldn’t just be turned away.

The streets again confused Rall, so he tried not to pay too close attention. Instead he focused on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping Greta in sight, and before he knew it they had arrived.

“Yes? Do you children have business with the guild of magic?” A neatly-dressed man with a long slender sword at his waist stopped them. Rall looked at Greta for a moment with a smirk then back towards the guard. Lifting his hand above his head he slowly pictured a roaring camp fire and the waves of heat that radiated from it. With in a single heartbeat a blast of fire raced shining into the sky. Rall was horrified, he hadn’t really even expected his little illusion trick to do anything at all, much less create real fire!

The guard stumbled and fell backwards, landing with a thump. He scrambled backwards on hands and feet like a crab for a moment before turning and jumping to his feet. Rall held up his hands placatingly.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, it was just supposed to be a spark!” The guard had drawn his sword and was holding it in front of himself shakily.

“A spark... A spark!” he shouted, “By the First, girl, you nearly set the district on fire!” Rall could hear the sounds of footsteps and shouting approaching fast.

“What in the nine hells is going on out here, is the city under attack?” A woman in fine clothes ran up to the guard, a ball of something glowing threateningly in her hand.

“This girl seems to need help. She says that gout of fire was supposed to be a spark!” The guard seemed very relieved to have the woman there to back him up. She turned to look at Rall and Greta with narrowed eyes.

“What is your business here? Don’t try anything, I can burn you to ash where you stand if you so much as wave a finger. Speak quickly!”

“Y-yes, Ma’am! It’s my fault... I mean, I didn’t mean to... I, it just happened...” Every word Rall knew tried to tumble out of his mouth at once, whatever that woman was holding looked really scary.

“Ma’am, I can explain.” Greta spoke up, clearly afraid as well but in better control of herself. “See, my friend here has been using magic, but she doesn’t know how.” She paused for a moment to gauge the woman’s reaction. When the woman didn’t react at all, she continued, “I thought I should bring her here to ask for help. I didn’t expect her to make a big fire like that, but that’s the very problem. I’m worried she’s going to hurt herself.”

The woman lowered her hand slightly, but that ball of energy did not go away. “What you just did is very dangerous. You must not do that again, or I will deal with you harshly.” She eyed Rall accusingly, “What you just described is patently impossible, clearly you know nothing of the ways of magic. Stand still and I shall find out the truth of the matter.” She waved with her free hand, a complex series of gestures coupled with some words mumbled under her breath that Rall couldn’t quite catch.

Standing firm Greta spoke up again, “It’s the truth, she has a sword as well!” She stopped speaking however, as a circle inscribed with formulaic symbols drew itself in the ground around the two. They both watched as it quickly formed, then the woman spoke up again.

“Now. Are you a demon? Don’t think to deceive me, that circle will trap a demon as long as I wish, and I can do many terrible things to you before sending you back to the hells.”

Rall gaped at her in shock. “I’m no demon!” Rall cried out, the accusation angered him almost beyond words. Staring down the woman Rall stepped forward past the glowing circle pointing an angry finger at her. She held up that ball of energy as if she might throw it, but he was too angry to care.

“I didn’t ask for this, I never even wanted to be an apprentice! Now this sword is changing me, and I’m making illusions and fire and other things without any real spells” Shoving up next the woman only inch away from her face his. “And if you’re going to kill me you might as well do it because I’m going to end up killing myself accidentally anyway unless someone teaches me!” The woman looked surprised by the tirade, but lowered her ball again.

“I believe you. If you were a demon, stepping past that circle would have incinerated you. You in there, step out too. I want to be sure of the both of you.” Greta obediently stepped out as well, and the woman nodded. The ball of chaotic energy swirling in her hand winked out as if it had never existed.

“So, a sword you say? Very well then, let’s see it. Leave it sheathed, the guard might get jumpy if you bare live steel around the woman who pays his salary.” Rall nodded and fumbled under his skirts for the sheath’s belt ties. The guard looked away a little bit, but the woman just smirked.

Rall drew the sword from under his skirt and held it up for her to see. The woman give the blade a quick inspection, gesturing for him to slip it out of the sheath a few inches. Rall noted that the woman didn’t seem all that impressed with the rusty junk weapon, nor willing to touch it. “Well come along then, let see what your ahhh... sword is all about then.”

The woman led Greta and Rall through the magic district, a rather unimpressive sight to Rall who viewed it as a poor substitute to the grandeur of Gaerbron. But what did catch his attention was the response from the street goers.

“They’re staring at us!” he softly whispered to Greta. Leaning into Rall shoulder she replied playfully, “No, I think they are staring at you, miss young sorceress.”

“It’s unnerving.” he grumbled back.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t shoot fireballs into the sky then.”

With one last turn they where both led into a small stone brick building. The building looked like it had seen better days. The wooden door hung crookedly off its hinges, and much of the mortar around the stone bricks was crumbling away. The painted sign above the door had much of the wording bleached and weather away by the elements, but Rall could still barely make out the name “Martello’s Trinkets, Curios and Antiques.”

Propping open the door carefully the woman waved them in. “Well then, go in. If you wish to know about you sword, Martello’s the man that can tell you.”

Before leaving the woman smiled, “A fair warning to you, Martello is quite old. He has become a bit of an eccentric in his advanced years; he’s a very sweet old man, but a tad touched.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. We haven’t even introduced ourselves... I’m Greta and this is Rana. We both appreciate your help.” Rall nodded meekly next to Greta as she thanked the woman.

“I am Seris, Sorceress of the third order, Peacekeeper of the district. If you need anything else, feel free to ask for me, just don’t try any more wild spells. I’d really hate to have to harm children.” So saying, Seris turned and left them at the door.

As Rall walked into the shop his eyes were greeted by a room filled to the brim with junk of every imagining. Swords, armour, books and scrolls, racks filled with spices and herbs that Rall could only partially identify, and he was no stranger to obscure components. And all of it was scattered about without any sign of rhyme or reason.

“About time, about time” come a scratchy grating voice, the kind one might expect to hear from a shrivelled up old scholar. Rall turned to look for the source of the voice and was greeted by said shrivelly old scholar in person. “Have you my cheese?” he questioned Rall plaintively “Hmmmm no it seems not, no one brings me my cheese anymore... such good cheese too.”

“Umm, no sir. I... we came to see what you could tell us about a sword...” Rall began, uncertain whether the old man would understand what he was saying at all.

“A sword you say? Why I have several swords right here! This one is perfect for slicing cheese. You know, if there were any here to slice.” He seemed to slump back in his stool a bit rubbing his bald head as if trying to straighten out hair that had long since left him.

“No sir,” Greta chimed in, “We mean this sword, it seems to be changing my friend and Lady Seris said you would be able to help”

“Oh Seris, a fine girl she is, always picking flowers to show me. She’ll grow up to be a fine sorceress one day.” Rall gave Greta a questioning look but before either could say a word Martello had jumped to his feet with surprising ease and agility. “A sword you say, well bring it here. The faster I give you your answers the faster you give me my cheese. Fine cheese it will be!” he proclaimed loudly. Rall stepped forward and offered the sheathed sword, and Martello gestured for him to place it on the a nearby work bench.

Martello wandered about his shop collecting powders and vials like a madman. It was a possibility that did not escape Rall’s thoughts for even a moment. “Yes this, and this... Ohh we need some of this, won’t be able to tell the matrix without duskweed!” he shouted with a glee.

By the time he had collected everything he needed, the bench had become nearly as littered as his shop. Clearly he didn’t pay heed to any sort of organizational system, but he seemed to know where everything was at least.

“Unsheath the sword, would you lad? Can’t be too careful you see, and you have held the sword already.” Rall did as he was asked, laying the naked blade back down on the bench. Were his eyes deceiving him, or was it a bit more polished now?

Licking the back end of a leathery bat wing, Martello stared at the sword. “Oh, interesting... interesting. Imperial design, second dynasty perhaps... No first, most definitely first. Built to last, they were, but this girl’s seen better days.” Rall idly toyed with his smooth shiny stones as he listened.

“But a history lesson was not why you came to me girl, yes. It’s the magic that you want to know about, yes.” Popping open a vial of red liquid he quickly dabbed a finger and began to scribble a circle of characters expertly around the sword. “Aged lamb’s blood, best medium for incantations, and it tastes great to boot.” so saying he licked the remaining blood from his fingers. Rall swallowed his rising bile at the sight, and Greta turned an interesting shade of pale green.

“Now for a little bit of magic” he said with a wink. With lighting fast movements, his hands and fingers shifted through a complex dance of patterns then abruptly stopped. Both Rall and Greta waited but nothing seemed to happen. Even Martello seem for a moment to be stunned but it soon passed as his eye widen open. “Oh yes I forgot” with a odd gagging sound Rall watched in horror as the old man cough up a glob of phlegm the likes of which Rall had never seen before into the palm of his hand.

By this point Greta had turned towards a suspiciously well-placed bucket and was emptying her stomach. “Oh thank you girl, I have been meaning to stock up!”

Closing his hand around the glob he went through is hand motion routine once again. With one last shake he opened his hand, releasing a shower of yellow light onto the sword.

“There we go. Worked like a charm! Or more like a divination. Dear, if you’re done with that please cover it, I don’t want it to spoil. Now let’s see here.”

Rall gasped as the sword began to glow, a warm fiery yellow over the surface of the blade and hilt. “Now look at that” the old wizard whistled as fine traces of yellow lights spread across the sword. “Do you know what this is my girls?” Rall and the still-recovering Greta simply shook their heads. “Me either!” he said with a laugh.

Turning about, the old man rummaged through a shelf and retrieved a round glass lens. Carefully he lowed the glass over a section of the sword and invited both Rall and Greta to look.

What Rall saw seemed impossible; magnified in the curved glass appeared an assortment of at least a thousand runes. This made up only a small section of the uncountable lines which criss-crossed over the sword.

“It’s an incantation of sorts.” he said with a whisper of awe. “Impossibly complex, and old. So very old. Even older than me! I could spend years studying this inscription and not discover its full purpose... but I can tell a little bit already. This isn’t a sword at all.”

Rall gave the old wizard a confused look, “If it’s not a sword then what is it?”

With a quiet giggle the old man turned towards Rall. “Why it’s a seal of course. It’s been tampered with, too.” He pointed out an odd disruption in the lines to Rall and Greta. Rall had taken it for a crack in the metal, but it was in fact a scratch across the runes. “Someone pried it open you see, here and there. I suppose to drain out its power.”

“I think I know who did that. But why is it changing me? Why am I suddenly casting spells without even knowing how to do it?” the comforting feel of the smooth stones in his hand helped him relax as thoughts of the fireball that might have gotten them both killed raced through his head.

“You have become bound to it, my guess. Have you the mage sight boy? There’s a trick to it, you have to look past what you’re looking at. No matter, I do and I can see plain as day that it’s feeding off of you.” Rall flinched away from the sword.

“It’s feeding on me? What should I do? Is it going to kill me?”

Shaking his head as if amused by a small childs antics “Oh dear no my girl, that could never happen. It takes what you give, nothing more, nothing less”

Scratching his chin he continued, “As for what you should do, I would say nothing. The seal will not last much longer. Too much power has been stripped from it. I would give it a year or less before the whole thing dies. Then you’ll have nothing but a pile of rust.”

“What about me? It changed me, will I change back?”

“Oh no dear child. Were you not listening? You’re linked to it. I imagine when it dies so will you. Quite unpleasant. You say it changed you? How? You look fine to me. The scales are a nice touch. Can I have them when you die or molt?”

“Die...?” Rall whispered as he stared at the sword. The world around him seem to fade away in stillness.

“How do we fix it?” Greta yelled, desperate for her friend’s life.

“I have no idea!” the strange old man offered with a guileless smile, “But let me know if you figure it out. It’ll be easy enough to tell, the rusty bits will get shiny. See, the rust is where the metal was consumed to replace the magical energy. Quite ingenious. You see rust is really slowly burning metal, so the sealed being is burning up its prison to stay alive. Once the prison is gone... poof!” Martello waved his hands as if to wave away smoke.

Just then the door opened and a smallish boy of perhaps twelve stepped inside, toting a heavy-looking package. “Master Martello, sir! I’ve brought you your groceries! I made sure to get that cheese you like so much!”

Martello looked to the newcomer oddly. “Cheese? Never touch the stuff. Gives me frightful blockage you see.” He looked at Greta and Rall as if surprised by their presence. “Hey, you children get out of my store now, off with you! And take your rusty knife with you, I only buy real antiques, not junk! Go on now!”

Almost before either could protest at all Rall and Greta were herded out of the store. The grocery boy offered them a shrug as they passed him, but said nothing.

“Well, that was not very helpful. Don’t worry Rana, we’ll figure something out.” Together they trudged back toward the market district. Rall couldn’t stop hearing the word “die” and it must have shown in his face because Greta paused for a moment to hug him.

“Really, Rana, don’t take any of that too seriously. The old man was clearly out of his mind. Besides, I’ve seen that sword a lot, and if anything its condition is getting better. Just take care of it, and you’ll be fine, okay?” Rall nodded uncertainly, but he did feel a little bit better. The sword DID look much better than when the blacksmith first gave it to him.

As they passed the entrance to the district of magic, the guard offered them a glare, and seemed glad to see them off. Then a somewhat high-pitched and soft voice Rall didn’t recognize called out.

“Miss Greta! Miss umm, Rana? I thought I’d lost you! That rude guard wouldn’t let me into the Mage District to find you! Why did you leave me behind at the baths?” Greta turned to face the bodyguard Fion had assigned them.

“Sometimes girls like a little privacy, Aric. You know that. You found me more quickly than last time I was in town, you’re getting better at it!” Aric frowned at her.

“Miss, I wish you wouldn’t do that. Maybe it’s a game to you, but Master Fion will dock me a week’s pay if he finds I failed to watch over you!” Rall looked from Greta to Aric, he hadn’t even noticed the bodyguard missing as they left the bathhouse.

“Don’t worry, Aric, you know I’ll vouch for you. You did find us after all! And here we are, safe and sound. Now we’d like to visit the market district and do some shopping. I promise we won’t run away from you again.” Aric nodded, accepting her word, and the three continued toward the vendors, Rall lost in thought and Aric trailing behind as Greta guided them toward the clothiers.

---

Greta giggled as she pulled Rana over to a street vendor’s cart lined with dresses and jewelery “Rana, look at this one!” She tried her hardest to get Rana’s attention, but the poor girl... boy... was obviously still scared. She was hardly even looking at all the pretty clothes. But Greta was determined to get her mind off of what the disgusting old man told them.

“Come on, at least look. I think this one would really bring out your eyes. You could even match it up with some jewelry!” Well, at least that got her attention. Rana looked up at her and inspected the brass and pewter wares arranged on the cart. She actually picked up several of them and held them up to inspect them.

“Ah, I see you have an eye for fine jewelry, young miss! Can I interest you in some sapphires? They’ll sparkle wonderfully against your fair skin.” The saleswoman offered, holding up a delicate chain with a blue stone setting.

Greta watch amused as Rana eyes widened and locked on the swaying gem. “Pretty...” she heard Rana mumble as she fumbled forward only to slip a half a foot away from her target. Her legs seemed to get all tangled up in each other and she nearly fell face first on the dirty cobblestones, but Greta caught her by the arm.

“Are you alright, Rana?” She helped the smaller girl straighten her skirt and realized it was the sword that tripped her. “You should be more careful. Come on, let’s go look at more clothes, Master Fion didn’t loan me enough to buy nice jewelry this time.”

Rana pouted at her a little bit, but she did seem in much better spirits. They looked at a few more dresses and Greta chose three that she liked, two for herself and one for Rana. It was her money after all.

Just then there was a commotion across the street. The crowd surged toward the street, pushing several people into the path of a team of horses, but they all scrambled back to safety just in time. Greta sighed in relief, she’d seen a man trampled in the streets once and it was not pleasant.

She paid for the dresses and accepted the neatly folded and tied packages wrapped in paper, then turned to ask Aric to carry them, just in time to see a man bump into Rana.

“Ow! Watch where you’re going old man, you jabbed me!” Greta turned to look as Rana winced in pain, clearly the thief that bumped into her was not only a lout, but heavy handed as well! She saw Aric try to grab the man and let him do the protecting while she checked to be sure Rana was okay.

“You’d better check your things, there are a lot of thieves who still try the bumping into you trick.” Rana nodded and went digging in her skirts for that handful of pretty stones she cared so much about. While she was busy counting them, Greta looked to see if Aric caught the man, but he had disappeared quickly in the throng. She looked up to see the sun hanging low in the sky.

“Okay, I think we’ve had enough excitement for the day, don’t you Rana? Let’s go find ourselves a hot meal and a safe place to sleep, alright? The streets are a bit more dangerous at night, and as brave as Aric is, even he can’t fight off two or three muggers at a time.”