."
She nodded. "It's worth a try, don't you think?"
Suliya blurted, "The penalties—"
Carey gave her a startled look—not as if he'd forgotten her, but as if he were surprised anyone thought the penalties mattered with the stakes at hand. "I'll deal with the penalties," he said. "Klia, if you're sure you're all right, get a start on cleaning up this mess. Suliya will help you. And Dayna . . . you were there when Jess was first changed. I want to know what to expect." He gestured at the back of the hall—no doubt meaning his small office off the job room.
"She didn't have language at first." Dayna kept pace with him, almost two strides to his one. "She learned damned fast, though."
Suliya, standing in a waning storm of wood shavings at the end of a long day, opened her mouth to ask if someone else might not help clean up the mess Klia had made, although a small inner voice reminded her that they were all tired, all overworked.
But it occurred to her that this was where things would be happening. Maybe not right away, maybe not even tonight—she had no idea of the preparations needed for what they planned. Even so, sooner or later, this stable would turn into the nexus of action . . . would maybe even provide the crucial information that allowed the new Council to understand what had happened to the old.
Suliya intended to be part of it.
Chapter 9
N ot far from Anfeald the City, on one of the abrupt rocky hills thrusting so boldly from the soil, snow melts off the south side and becomes firmly entrenched in the crannies of the north side—until late in the day, when the hill . . . shimmers. Dissolves. Turns to a flat puddle of stone.
The astonished deer sunning itself on the southern hump of the hill gives a startled bleat and leaps for safety.
Not soon enough.
Jess stood outside Arlen's rooms, ignoring the morning bustle from the dispatch desk inside the apprentice room; there were few messages coming through now, but they'd become harder to retrieve, requiring Natt and a backup dispatcher to be on hand at all times. The last several, for all the trouble they'd taken, had been little more than "stay calm, no further developments, couriers on the way" notes.
The couriers, upon arrival, brought large quantities of family messages traveling from precinct to precinct across Camolen, and a few crucial bits of information—which of the wizards were being chosen to fill the new Secondary Council, which services were considered nonessential, an update of known checkspells now temporarily suspended—but nothing that Jess really wanted to hear. What had happened to the Council . Or even better, it's all a terrible mistake, everyone's fine. Rather than admit she still hoped for that last, it was easier to pretend she didn't care about any of it.
But she cared about Jaime, who waved her in to the sitting room where Jess was promptly accosted by the young male calico cat. It jumped to the arm of a chair to paw the air and demand attention, and she absently scratched her way down its back as she eyed Jaime, who sat on the couch lined up against the window. With circles under her eyes and an entirely uncharacteristic jittery presence, Jaime looked years older in just the few days since they'd seen each other.
But she gave Jess a wry smile at the assessment she obviously knew she'd gotten, and passed a hand over her hair. "The good thing about this cut," she said, "is that no one can tell when you haven't styled it."
"You were asleep when I got here last night. Carey said you were sick."
Jaime rubbed the bump on her once-broken nose, the one she'd acquired not long after meeting Jess . . . and not long before meeting Arlen. "I'm okay in the mornings," she said. "It's the strangest thing . . . the last two evenings . . ." She let out a gusty breath and shook her head. "I'd say it was a migraine of the worst order, except I've never had them. It comes on, it lasts the evening, and it goes away. By then I'm not good for
She nodded. "It's worth a try, don't you think?"
Suliya blurted, "The penalties—"
Carey gave her a startled look—not as if he'd forgotten her, but as if he were surprised anyone thought the penalties mattered with the stakes at hand. "I'll deal with the penalties," he said. "Klia, if you're sure you're all right, get a start on cleaning up this mess. Suliya will help you. And Dayna . . . you were there when Jess was first changed. I want to know what to expect." He gestured at the back of the hall—no doubt meaning his small office off the job room.
"She didn't have language at first." Dayna kept pace with him, almost two strides to his one. "She learned damned fast, though."
Suliya, standing in a waning storm of wood shavings at the end of a long day, opened her mouth to ask if someone else might not help clean up the mess Klia had made, although a small inner voice reminded her that they were all tired, all overworked.
But it occurred to her that this was where things would be happening. Maybe not right away, maybe not even tonight—she had no idea of the preparations needed for what they planned. Even so, sooner or later, this stable would turn into the nexus of action . . . would maybe even provide the crucial information that allowed the new Council to understand what had happened to the old.
Suliya intended to be part of it.
Chapter 9
N ot far from Anfeald the City, on one of the abrupt rocky hills thrusting so boldly from the soil, snow melts off the south side and becomes firmly entrenched in the crannies of the north side—until late in the day, when the hill . . . shimmers. Dissolves. Turns to a flat puddle of stone.
The astonished deer sunning itself on the southern hump of the hill gives a startled bleat and leaps for safety.
Not soon enough.
Jess stood outside Arlen's rooms, ignoring the morning bustle from the dispatch desk inside the apprentice room; there were few messages coming through now, but they'd become harder to retrieve, requiring Natt and a backup dispatcher to be on hand at all times. The last several, for all the trouble they'd taken, had been little more than "stay calm, no further developments, couriers on the way" notes.
The couriers, upon arrival, brought large quantities of family messages traveling from precinct to precinct across Camolen, and a few crucial bits of information—which of the wizards were being chosen to fill the new Secondary Council, which services were considered nonessential, an update of known checkspells now temporarily suspended—but nothing that Jess really wanted to hear. What had happened to the Council . Or even better, it's all a terrible mistake, everyone's fine. Rather than admit she still hoped for that last, it was easier to pretend she didn't care about any of it.
But she cared about Jaime, who waved her in to the sitting room where Jess was promptly accosted by the young male calico cat. It jumped to the arm of a chair to paw the air and demand attention, and she absently scratched her way down its back as she eyed Jaime, who sat on the couch lined up against the window. With circles under her eyes and an entirely uncharacteristic jittery presence, Jaime looked years older in just the few days since they'd seen each other.
But she gave Jess a wry smile at the assessment she obviously knew she'd gotten, and passed a hand over her hair. "The good thing about this cut," she said, "is that no one can tell when you haven't styled it."
"You were asleep when I got here last night. Carey said you were sick."
Jaime rubbed the bump on her once-broken nose, the one she'd acquired not long after meeting Jess . . . and not long before meeting Arlen. "I'm okay in the mornings," she said. "It's the strangest thing . . . the last two evenings . . ." She let out a gusty breath and shook her head. "I'd say it was a migraine of the worst order, except I've never had them. It comes on, it lasts the evening, and it goes away. By then I'm not good for
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