An iridescent realm floated above the washing basin, minute bubbles shifting through a variegated spectrum of colors. As Alyce submerged a tunic into those waters, an echoing splash drew her eye to the giggling boy next to her. Ryles, the baron’s son and sole heir to his House, dunked his hands into the basin and sloshing about. A perfect imitation to Alyce's efforts.

  A slow smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. At the endearing age of five, Ryles had yet to understand the line between servant and lord. His far too easy going father had allowed his son to befriend the manor’s maids, in hopes the women would share even a sliver of maternal kindness with the boy. And wholeheartedly did they share, doting, teaching, playing, even entertaining his childish likes and antics.

  A pair of hands clapped over her shoulders, startling Alyce from the laundry.

  "Have you seen the guests?" Bea asked, rocking Alyce’s weight to and fro.

  Between each sway, Alyce retorted back. “Is that where you were? Spying on the visitors while I was alone here, doing the laundry?”

  “Bad Bea,” Ryles chided with all the dignity of a five year old.

  Bea pouted, hoisting her skirts before settling on her haunches. “Oh, but I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  She rummaged within the frothy waters and lugged out a waterlogged child's tunic. “You should have seen their clothes!” Bea continued on while scrubbing the article between her hands. “Such fine fabrics, luxurious wool and silk. And they wore such lavish material for traveling garb! Goodness, how wealthy could they be?”

  Alyce gave Bea a sidelong glance. Mage or not, there was no chance she overlooked the well dressed boy. From the short encounter, Alyce had thought the boy of decent face, not handsome, brawny, or tall, but in a clean and proper way. Judging from the way Bea’s lips lifted, her cornflower blue eyes glimmering with intrigue, Alyce knew Bea thought the same.

  “Don’t you go causing trouble for us. Besides, aren't you —." Alyce spied Ryles watching them with earnest curiously. “Friends with the smith's boy?”

  Bea gave her usual mischievous smile. “A girl can have more than one friend. And besides, we have an understanding.” She pounded the tunic against a batting board and began to knead the soap out of it. “Would you like to take a gander at the visitors, young Master Ryles?”

  The boy stretched his arms upward and feigned a yawn, teasing a grin from Alyce.

  “They have a pony. A gray one,” Bea wheedled.

  Ryles' eyes grew wide at the singular word 'pony' and he squealed with delight. “I want to see!”

  “Ah! So all I needed was choice words,” Bea crowed triumphantly as she bounced on to her feet. “Let’s go see that pony!”

  “You will not be shirking your duties, Bea."

  The stern voice sent the excitable maid back on her haunches to attend the washing board and basin. From the direction of the outer fields, Haddie marched toward them. Her astute eyes recognized the boy in their company and she gave the young lord a curtsy before regarding the maids. “Alyce, the baron has guests. I'll need you to bring refreshments to his study.”

  Alyce instantly shoved the breeches she had been laundering back into the sudsy waters. “Oh but Bea is better at selecting sweets, no?”

  “That’s right, I can do it!”

  “Bea’s too nosy for her own good,” Haddie answered, raising an apprehensive brow. “And you wouldn't dare flirt with our lord's guests.”

  A tug on her sleeve turned Haddie's attention to Ryles, standing by her elbow. “Bea said they have nice clothes and a pony.”

  “They are noble mages from the Blue Sanctus, Master Ryles," Haddie said, choosing to glare at Bea, who was innocently humming away.

  “Nobles? Like father?”

  The query was innocent in question. Having never left Neburh, Ryles had minimal interactions with those considered nobility. The ones he had met were relatives, lower nobles akin to the status of merchant houses. He did not know that Sancti mages, even the ones who were not born nobles, easily outranked country barons.

  Haddie knelt down to reach the boy's height. “You'll need to act properly with them then, just like with your visiting aunts and uncles. Show the Sanctus mages the best of your House's manners. Which is why Alyce, with her wonderful mannerism, should hurry along and provide them refreshments.”

  As if the mages were present, Ryles lifted his chin high. “Bring them honey cakes, Alyce,” he insisted.

  Alyce smiled at the boy’s attempt to act the lordling. “Of course.”

  Haddie’s honey tea cakes were one of Ryles’ favorite desserts and the most visually impressive sweet they could bake. These rose shaped cakes had always garnered attention and brought on conversation.

  And if these mages were proper nobles, Alyce thought as she bade farewell. They would hardly glance at the maid delivering the tea and cakes.

  Baron Connall. The governing lord for the Is'et territory. His taste in furnishing seemed both behind the times and unsophisticated rustic. The hunting scenes on the upholstery greatly contrasted the plain white walls and ceiling, with its exposed wooden beams. The light ash wood bookshelves looked peculiar next to the oddly shaped writing desk, its legs carved into the shape of a beast's limbs and paws. Built into the walnut top were two large drawers, the handles were in the shape of feline heads.

  Atrocious, Kytes decided uneasily, while he inspected the fireplace. Its mantle and header were thankfully lacking in further cat shaped designs, displaying only a standard fire rune engraved into its side.

  His nose delighted in discovering sweet, earthy tones within the fireplace, a curiosity as fire made by runes were smokeless and therefore scentless. Without realizing. Kytes leaned closer, his mind painting wordy descriptors he read long ago. This was a fire made by hand, its vigor nurtured by firewood, not spell work.

  “I am most fortunate to have employed people, who can do things the old way."

  Kytes blinked several times, before tearing his eyes away from the fire. Setting a tall herding stick by the door, a homely looking man regarded the boy with a smile. Baron Connall did not don typical aristocratic garb but instead wore weathered but durable clothes. A vest over a long tunic, sturdy trousers and muddy boots, the man looked as if he had just returned from herding sheep. His receding hair was hidden by his fine woolen cap, but Kytes still spied a generous amount of dull copper hair poking out from the sides.

  The man's naturally downturned eyes were kind and any movement at his mouth formed great craters around the edges. He had a sparse beard and a wide nose, both which added to Baron Connall’s pastoral aesthetic. In this room of gaudy furnishing, he looked severely out of place.

  “I fear I have kept you waiting for much too long, that your teacher had thought to come fetch me. My apologies, Esphyr Kytes,” Connall continued, looking back at Hollis. who was meticulously checking the underside of her boots.

  The mage woman's eyes flitted upward, her lips dipping into a grimace. "I found Baron Connall in the field with his sheep, a hound, and a gaggle of villagers. A lord, who allows an audience in the middle of a pasture. If the capital knew of this, imagine the dismay and uproar.”

  “They hadn't deigned to check on me yet and thus, I will continue to govern as I see fit,” the baron responded pleasantly. “My priority is to my people and they are displeased with, yet again, broken runes.”

  Kytes couldn’t stop himself from being helpful. “Runes?”

  “Yes. The hearth runes we use in the manor and the communal ones in the castle town.” The baron cast a meaningful look at the fireplace before acknowledging the mage boy. “Esphyr Kytes. Your teacher tells me that you have a resonance with fire and can do runic magic. Perhaps I can ask you about service contracts pertaining to fire runes?”

  Doing his best to ignore the disapproving glare Hollis wore, the young mage straightened his back, his pride in his education apparent. “I can read and draft contracts, my lord. As well as create binding clauses that ensure the contract remains true until the work is completed.”

  “Then you can detect if there is no binding clause in effect.”

  Kytes frowned. “Why would a contract be without the spell?”

  Connall grunted and brought out a sheaf of orderly documents from behind his desk. "Just like my home, the fire runes in the town have expired, much sooner than I expected. It has been less than six months since I ordered them renewed by the closest Chapel."

  The documents handed to Kytes were, by all accounts, parchments. Recorded words with long dried ink. The detailing of the date, the Chapel that sent them, and the amount paid. The further he went through the pages, the notes began to become nonspecific. The number of runes, their locations, how long each rune would last. Then his eyes rested on the servicing mage's name and the binding rune scrawled at the end. Like the hearth, he could not detect even a fragment of spell work within these verbacious contract.

  Every mage in the realm was associated with a Sanctus or Chapel. The most talented and esteemed mages would become Sanctus mages and be paid handsomely for serving the king and wealthy. While the vast majority of magic users would either become merchants, who sold simple talismans, or continue to work for a Chapel.

  If an individual remained with a Chapel, their responsibilities would cover educating local mage children, or traveling to nearby towns, providing blessings or renewing old runes. Such tasks still provided a generous livelihood for Chapel mages, enough that they could live comfortably. And the amount of power used to renew runes, for the minimum of three years, was hardly draining.

  Was the mage incapable or —

  Suspicion gnawed at him as Kytes read the documents over again. Neburh was fairly secluded and a cumbersome journey for outside Chapels. Therefore the baron could only rely on the county's own Chapel, located at its western borders, to replenish these runes. And should there be disputes between Chapel and governing House... who would pay mind to a lowly baron?

  “It is as you see it, Esphyr Kytes.”

  The young Sanctus mage looked up. Connall was not blind to the truth of the situation, nor was he seeking an explanation.

  “I do not expect the Blue Sanctus would care to hear about a dispute between an agricultural barony and a local Chapel, but perhaps, if you might deliver the letter back to your superiors, they might convince a different Chapel to send a mage to fulfill the rest of the contract.”

  How long would that take? Kytes frantically began to calculate an estimated time. Their own investigation here would take at least a week, then there was the journey back, and even upon delivery, the Sanctus would need more time to look into the matter.

  But he was here. A fire mage. And already at Neburh.

  “Perhaps I may be of assistance,” Kytes began to say.

  “I thank you for the offer, but I cannot afford a Sanctus mage's service. Hence why I rely on the local Chapel.” Though having made his point, Connall still offered Kytes a kind smile. “But if there was a favor you could do for me, perhaps once I draft a letter, please share it with your superiors. That would be enough. My people and I can manage for a while longer.”

  "It will take more than a little while," Kytes tried explaining patiently. "You needn’t pay the Sanctus, my lord. It is my own willingness.”

  “You truly are a kind lad, but it is a matter of principle, Esphyr Kytes. The Chapel was dishonest and did not fulfill their part of their contract. It is my duty to notify the Blue Sanctus. If I take your offer, the Sanctus would think this resolved, and the Chapel will not know what they have done wrong.” Connall nodded at Hollis, who had come to stand by her student. “You will agree, Esphyr Hollis?”

  “As painful as it is to admit it, yes. That is the proper way of doing things. Although…” The woman gave Kytes a wink, provoking him to regard her back with his own serious scrutiny. Hollis had a way of finding loopholes. “An interesting thing happened on our way up here, my lord.”

  Soft shushing footsteps were heard scurrying into the study and to Kytes’ left, a plate of teacakes was set on the table. The baron murmured his thanks before turning his attention back to Hollis.

  “Interesting?”

  “Yes. On our way through the orchards, our poor pony was overcome by thirst and had refused to take another step. Luckily for us, a young woman, dressed just like your maid here, happened to pass us by and so kindly offered our mare water.”

  A glass clacked far too loudly against the tabletop and Kytes looked at the individual next to him. Auburn hair, blue gray eyes, keen facial features. Feigning unfamiliarity, Kytes turned away to inspect the ceiling.

  “As mages, we honor the act of good deeds done for us." Hollis leaned over the plate, taking great effort to select a cake.

  “Esphyr Hollis, I’m afraid giving water to a horse does not surmount to a rune's renewal.” The baron gestured at an empty spot on his desk. “You may leave the water pitcher here, Alyce.”

  “Is it not? For Kytes and I both tried wheedling the pony to walk, and she still would not obey the will of two Sanctus mages. But like magic, the pony dutifully accompanied us here after being given water.” Hollis slid a cup underneath the pitcher and helped herself to a generous amount of water. "I heard your villagers lamenting about ineffective runes and Kytes saw the Chapel's contract. As mages, it is deeply frustrating to be perceived so poorly. So allow us make things right, that we might remedy the perception your people have…of our kind."

  Connall frowned at the suggestion then looked at his maid, shifting uncomfortably between his two guests.

  As a child, Alyce was quite beloved by his late wife. A willing girl who learned quickly and became a trusted and reliable servant. She remained capable even on the occasions when the manor's runes ceased to function properly and most likely, the one summoned to start the fire in this very room.

  He sighed. A hardworking servant with more tasks now because of this inconvenience.

  “Alyce, how many fires have you started by hand today?”

  Kytes startled, looking toward the still bowed girl. “By hand?”

  The baron smiled upon hearing the genuine surprise in the Sanctus mage’s voice. “Yes, she is quite skilled with the archaic ways of doing things. Laundering, drying clothes, starting fires, everything we would believe inconvenient and she has never complained. Alyce?”

  Raising a brow, Kytes shot a curious look at the maid. Besides fear, had she taken offense that he could use magic to perform many of her duties?

  “Seven, my lord,” Alyce answered without noticing Kytes’ regard. “The kitchen, baths, study, and bedrooms.”

  “More work for you when there is much to be done.” He waved a hand toward Kytes. “I retract my previous statement, I would be grateful for your assistance. If you would only supply the fire runes with the amount that was unfulfilled, that would be enough. No more than that.” He looked back at the maid. “Alyce, you are quite familiar with the location of our runes. Please accompany him to the castle town tomorrow so he can renew the communal runes.”

  The young woman yanked her head up, mouth agape as if she wished to protest.

  “The townsfolk and the girls will be relieved to know their runes will be working sooner than expected,” Connall reminded Alyce gently.

  Her mouth latched closed and she sunk into a curtsy. “Yes, my lord,” she relented then meekly excused herself.

  “Alyce has always been a bit wary of magic,” Connall told his guests once the door shut closed. “Like many residents in Is'et, we only interact with mages from the local Chapel.”

  Hollis swirled the water against the walls of her cup. “Beside the Chapel closest to your borders, how often do you interact with the villages outside of Neburh?”

  The baron frowned at the sudden shift in topic. "I have thought it curious why Sanctus mages would suddenly visit my home.” His eyes darted between the two before him. “It's been years since my own personal interaction with them, but to my knowledge, the outer farms trade for lumber with the little village of Scaidun during the cooler seasons.”

  Kytes recalled seeing distant singular housing when they crossed Is'et's borders. He sighed deeply. Sooner or later, those farmers will wonder what happened to their seasonal trading partner. Scaidun, the village he had bound days ago, was a closer neighbor than the castle town.

  Connall braced his hands on the table. “Has something happened?”

  “You might wish to send a message to those residents. Request them not to approach Scaidun for the time being,” Hollis responded gravely. "The people there are no more. Their rotted bodies have been cremated, but their souls are --- still there."

  The baron shut his eyes, prominent wrinkles grew at his brows. "The Threnody.” The two words hung in the air before the man opened his eyes again. “Scaidun was not under my protection, but had they needed assistance —”

  Kytes looked away, riddled with guilt. He had assumed a baron would at least be conceited enough to act as most nobles do. But here was a man with outdated and gaudy, but still functional furnishing. His staff served the simplest cakes that would have been considered rustic at Thalhurst’s tea houses. Any luxury he could have procured for himself, Connall saved for his own territory's coffers. And the man still wondered if he could have helped others not under his jurisdiction?

  It is sheer luck then that Neburh had remained untouched by a Threnody, Kytes thought. Baron Connall could not afford paying a mage to protect his people, much less pay for powerful new runes, legal or illicit.

  Hollis was turning the cup in her hands, as if entranced by the water within. After a moment, she poured water into the remaining two cups and offered them to Connall and Kytes. “Precautionary actions should be considered, my lord. And with luck, never needed. After all, Neburh has stayed safe for so long, has it not?"

  Connall sighed while taking a sip from his vessel. "A Threnody had been sung at my doorstep. What funds do I have to prevent a plague such as this? It is only a matter of time, Esphyr Hollis."

  Kytes lifted the cup, taking precaution to analyze the water within. When the charmed cuff on his ear did not warm, he knew it was safe to drink. Although…

  He glanced at Hollis, who was readjusting her spectacles. But underneath her hand, she hid a smile. Curious as to what his teacher discovered, Kytes willingly took a sip.

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  The water that ran through the holy Sancti and wealthier cities were considered the most pure. Even the water in most of the nation’s villages were spelled to prevent contamination and diseases. But this —

  Within seconds, he was staring down at an empty cup. He had drained it so quickly, partly because of thirst, and partly because the fire within him clamored for it. His flames had greedily devoured it, kindled a mote brighter by the water’s blessing.

  He set the cup down, silently shushing his powers to settle as he pondered over the circumstance. A rural agricultural county in the middle of nowhere had water more pure, more invigorating, than that of the Thalhurst, the western holy city?

  "And yet it has not gone through it," Hollis said, giving her student a knowing smile. "As if being warded off by your county's orchards and lush hills.”

  Several large pots clattered noisily across the worktable, startling Alyce from her meticulously organized piles of plump elderberries and rotund sloe berries. Since late summer, every night the maids of House Is'et busied themselves with making fruit preserves, pickling vegetables, and curing meat. The preserved food would then be safely stored away in the cellar, ready for autumn's end and winter's frigid arrival, when fresh produce would be precious to find and the preserved vittles would be essential for flavoring blander fare.

  "You're so lucky," Bea huffed, heaving herself over the bench and sidling into Alyce's shoulder. “What I would give to walk about with a handsome mage and not have to attend to the same old chores.”

  Alyce playfully shoved the dramatic maid. “Trade with me then?”

  “Absolutely!”

  “Absolutely not.” Wagging a ladle swathed in sticky sugar at them, Haddie glowered over a boiling pot of hot elderberry jam. Her dark hair was pulled under a linen head cloth, her forehead dripping with sweat from toiling over the steaming preserves. “We need the fire runes renewed as soon as possible, and you, Bea, would most certainly try to delay the poor boy.”

  Bea sniffed indignantly. “I would never!"

  Haddie made a rude sound before impatiently pointing her ladle at the deposited pots on the table. “There’s nothing to gain from tangling with a mage.” She looked down her long nose to propel Bea onto the next step, mashing the berries in the cooking vessels. “Mages like him, they want favors in exchange for the magic he provides. Titles, rapport, introductions to wealthier nobles, marriage partners, anything to further their influence.”

  “Suppose that would be troubling.” Bea sighed loudly. “I don’t have anything like that.”

  Alyce giggled but her convivial faded when she noticed Haddie staring over the jam.

  Making a face, Alyce replied stiffly. “Don't Haddie. I'm only guiding him to where the runes are. I'm not silly enough to muss with a mage, 'specially not him.” She began scooping handfuls of sloe into an empty pot. “I thought mages chanted spells and what not, but he cut marks onto his hand. Deep scratches!”

  Haddie raised a contemplative hand to her chin. “And he is the one renewing our runes? But he's so young." The older girl frowned and dropped her hand. "A runic mage, I mean. If that's what the lad is, then he's a rare breed.”

  “Runic mage?” Alyce’s attention wandered briefly to the fireplace. The term runic applied to sorcerers, who had the ability to write spells like the hearth rune. “How much is it for a mage like that to renew runes if he's not making them?"

  Haddie held up one finger. “A normal renewal would take one gold per rune. A runic mage —” She lifted two additional fingers.

  Three gold per rune? Alyce scoffed in surprise. Just renewing the manor runes alone was more than what she made in five years.

  “Then there are the Sanctus runic mages. More powerful than the ordinary ones we have. The nobles have those mages costing ten gold per rune.”

  Alyce sputtered. “Ten gold!? But he told Baron Connall that he didn't want payment."

  "Maybe he's here because the Chapel messed up the contract with the hearth runes," Bea said hopefully. "Maybe he'll do things proper."

  With lips closed, Alyce made a doubtful noise. "Sanctus mages in a barony, just because a contract is off?"

  "I think they are searching for something." Haddie's ladle clanked against the rim of the pot as she set it down.

  Bea scoffed. "Like what? Didn't you say most mages want titles, wives, influence? We might have some pretty girls, but that's it."

  "I also said they travel on the king's behalf," Haddie retorted back. "Finding answers to something he wants to know. Making sure his vassal is not doing anything he doesn't like. That nothing fishy is going on in Neburh."

  What serious unlawful acts could there be? Alyce wrinkled her forehead as she struggled to imagine them. The castle town's population was too small, clannish in fact, for stealing and battery to be a common occurrence. And even when she had heard of them, either because of impetuous jealousy or drunken influence, the community had always been quick to deliver consequence upon the individual. Of course, there were the less savory activities, nightly roaming and drinking that the younger folks, like Bea, enjoyed but surely the king didn't care about that.

  As for Is'et's governance --- Alyce shook her head. "The baron's too honest of a man to have made the king angry. We have sheep herders and orchardists. Simple commoners that look after livestock and trees. And with the way things are, we might not be wealthy but everyone survives all the seasons. The baron's been good at making sure that everyone's comfortable and content, besides the little upset at runes."

  "Runes!" Bea dropped her mashing spoon. "They are here for illicit runes?”

  Alyce clamped her hands over Bea' mouth while Haddie shushed the blonde maid with a hiss. "Are you mad, girl?" Haddie whispered fiercely. "We have Sanctus mages in the manor and you mention those!?"

  Every citizen in Maresai knew illicit runes were banned and how ten years ago, the great eastern territory of Is'vior, the birthplace of said runes, fell to disarray because of them. The affluent duchy, with their distinguished researchers and mages, had created reimagined sigils that would greatly improve livelihoods. But after months of the discovery, the dukedom's capital collapsed into a Threnody and their folly spilled into its own domain, destroying Is'vior's cities and cursing much of its population with the madness ode. It was an illness that would cause the afflicted to lose sanity, to wail and scream while their bodies contort in pain. And any listener, whether helpful bystander or wary observer, would succumb to the same fate. There was not end to it once the Threnody began, it would spread even after people's deaths, haunting the living through dreams, inviting them to sing.

  Within weeks, other Threnodies began and flourished across Maresai, until finally the Blue Sanctus learned how to bound the malady in place with their runic fire mages. Neburh was fortunate that it was only the news which reached them. And the king's decree.

  No matter what benefits those sigils might provide, the practice and usage of illicit runes was prohibited. And should it be discovered in any province, the reigning lord would be fined, the wrongdoer severely punished, and the populace under observation by the Riddarar, the militaristic force that was the Green Sanctus.

  Someone knocked against the half opened kitchen door and the girls sprang to their feet. They had left it ajar to allow the air to circulate as they worked and hadn't considered visitors would come to the scullery. Without a second thought, Alyce threw her weight against the door, slamming it shut with a bang.

  She was gasping for breath before she realized what she had done, how guilty their actions looked. Twisting around, she sought consolation from the other two maids, but to her consternation, found them gaping back, equally speechless.

  Realizing the error she delivered, Alyce sighed and forced herself to open the door by a crack.

  With his hand still half raised, Esphyr Kytes stood in front of the door, greeting her with an unamused look to answer her sheepish one.

  “Esphyr,” Alyce acknowledged him loudly. “I'm sorry about that, but this is where the servants work. What brings you here?”

  If the mage was trying to smile back, he was failing spectacularly, only managing to conjure an grimace. “I would like to speak to you about tomorrow, Colleen,” he told her, politely using the phrase for a young woman. “Since you will be showing me where the communal runes are.”

  “Ah --.” Alyce looked back and jerked her chin down to ease the two girls behind her. “But it’s hot in the kitchen though, with the boiling and preserves going. Shall we step out to somewhere cooler?”

  The boy's eyes flicked in the direction of the kitchen, its occupants still concealed by Alyce and the door. Finally he nodded, taking a step back so she could slide into the hallway.

  If Esphyr Kytes had heard their gossip, he made no mention of it as she escorted him out to the manor's courtyard. It was a fairly open space, public enough for two strangers to hold a conversation and still close enough to the scullery. Should he confront her about illicit runes, Alyce was sure her cries would summon at the least the other two maids.

  However, the mage remained strangely quiet and when Alyce finally dared to look back, she saw that his attention was elsewhere. The evening had turned the outdoors pitch black, but the candles lit from within the side church had set the lower half of stained glass mural aglow, pulling colorful prisms into the dark square.

  The glass reminds me of the streets back in the cities. Rainbows dancing across walls and paved walkways. But what they don't have is true quiet and dark. Baroness Síle once told her during their late night walks. Natural darkness, untouched by mankind's magic.

  Alyce’s inhaled sharply. She was sure Síle had missed it, her life in the city. And how sad the baroness must have been, to trade her lavish life for one in an agricultural county.

  “Colleen Alyce, I believe this is yours.”

  She thrust away from her thoughts, bringing herself to look at the hand Kytes held out. In his palm was a flat speckled stone with a glowing engraved rune. It looked terribly similar if not identical to the same warming stone she had dropped.

  “The power within the rune had long faded so I granted it anew.”

  The earlier conversation about coin and runic mages poured into mind and Alyce willed herself to speak respectfully. “Esphyr Kytes. I can't take this. You are a runic mage and I haven't got enough coin to afford that kind of magic.”

  A crevice dug between his brows. “I'm not asking for payment. This is yours," he insisted. “You dropped it when you were assisting us, I am returning it to you.”

  “Esphyr Kytes.” She repeated. “It is cheaper for me to purchase a new warming stone than to have a runic mage renew an old one.”

  His eyes narrowed at the mention of runic. “And again, I am not expecting anything. This renewal was a simple task, it posed no difficulty for me."

  He tried to offer the stone again, but Alyce's feet brought her under the church's prismatic windows. The textured ruby glass that belonged to a certain nymph washed the mage in crimson. On any other occasion, she would have found this ironic, considering that the hue was that of a fire spirit.

  Unlike Alyce, Kytes did not take notice of the convenient lighting. “Why is it that the people here are so disinclined to accept aid?”

  “It is a matter of principle.”

  “Principle?” He echoed, flat and unfeeling.

  “Mages create spells. And you make them for great nobles and kings. It is they who can pay you for your time and talents. But I am a maid, who works for a lower baron. There is nothing I can pay you with,” she responded firmly. “It is as my lord says, ‘providing water for a pony is not the same as providing magic to a rune —.”

  “Have you ever considered I was only trying to be nice?” he sharply interjected. "Mouse made a mess of your dress, I had meant to dry it. You dropped your stone and since it wasn’t working, I decided to fix it. I had no other agenda. Why is it that everyone assumes that I want something more?”

  Whatever etiquette lessons the Blue Sanctus had poured into his education, it was becoming lost in his frustration.

  "Magic is to help people and there are some that are so — simple, that any mage can accomplish them! Why does it matter if I am a runic mage? I am not writing a spell, only renewing an old one, like — filling a cup with water. It is so elementary that even a novice can do it!"

  He jerked his head to the side, breathing harshly as he bolted shut his mouth. It was unbecoming of him to have unearthed his personal grievances to a stranger. Had any Sanctus mage, or even Hollis, heard his rant, they would have reprimanded him.

  “Simple for you.”

  He glanced at the maid cast in azure luminance. Oddly enough, she did not seem frightened or appalled. Instead she looked fixedly at him, contemplating but with a tinge of curiosity.

  “The simple spells you do for not even a copper coin," Alyce told him. "Is what a normal Chapel mage would have charged for a single silver.”

  “I suppose even if I was to put a price to those simple spells, they would still cost much less than a silver.” His eyes dropped to her clasped hands. "Do you charge your lord when he asks you to make fire?"

  Shaking her head, Alyce answered. "He pays me to look after his home and family. Making a fire by hand with flint and steel is just one of my personal interests that comes into play when necessary. It’s not the same as magic.”

  "But isn't it?"

  She blinked at him, unsure why his eyes glimmered with excitement.

  "Fire in its most natural state is a reaction, not an element. It's a combination of air, heat, and a fuel source, like earth. What I have, what many fire mages have, is different from what you can create. I was bestowed a sacred core from the fire nymphs at birth, but you..." There was admiration in the way Kytes looked at her as if he had discovered something extraordinary. "You create it by melding it nature."

  Alyce scoffed. "Surely you can do the same --."

  "No, not like you." His utterance was an envious whisper. "I've read about it in books, and seen similar things done with blades, but never tried it myself. As children, we're taught the most efficient ways to create fire; drawing it from within, borrowing the Lampades’ flames. The most convenient source at hand. So no, I've never been taught."

  Alyce’s eyes widened. Though she knew about magic's convenience, she had never wondered if the mages knew how to work without their gifts. Apparently not. But why not? What if the mage ran out of magic? She wanted to ask. Could you run out? Her own brows furrowed when she noticed the shadow under Kytes’ eyes, turning her unspoken questions into a heap.

  He is tired, and I suppose I do want that stone back. Alyce decided, scuffing a patten against her opposite ankle to keep warm. It is late autumn and the weather will only grown colder with Samhain fast approaching. It'll be foolish if I don't have a warming stone at hand and who knows when I might find a merchant mage to buy a new one.

  She straightened her back and cleared her throat. "The heating stone, could I...trade you knowledge for it?"

  A single brow arched and Kytes tilted his head to a shoulder. "Oh?"

  "I can teach you how to make fire the archaic way," Alyce proposed. "Perhaps while we're out visiting the expired runes tomorrow."

  For a moment, she worried that her suggestion might enrage him. Some nobles took offense easily, even to offerings that had no malicious intent. Connall's aunt was such an individual and whenever she visited the manor, the elderly woman would smother Ryles with affection and suffocate the maids with oppressive regard.

  An eager smile dissipated her worries. “You would be willing to teach me?" Kytes asked.

  "I don't see why not.”

  Kytes brightened, reaching forward and dropped the warming stone into her hand. "You have no idea how much I would appreciate it. I promise to be the most diligent student you have ever had."

  Alyce nearly dropped it, delicious warmth fleeting up her arm. She did not recall it ever feeling this warm before nor the rune shining so bright.

  Was a flint and steel lesson worth such a spell? It's renewed but far more than it had been in the past! Alyce couldn’t decide, but she had come to suspect that Kytes had a poor concept of what his powers meant for those who could not afford it in coin.

  She closed her fingers over the stone. "It's only fire, it's simple. You needn't make it sound more than it is."

  "Simple for you."

  Alyce looked up in time to catch the twinkle in his eyes, his mouth crinkling at the corners.

  So he had some play in him, she realized, pulling her hand back. "Well, shall we meet tomorrow morning then?"

  He bowed, not deeply enough to be mocking, but at an angle that remained genuinely respectful. “Until then.” Kytes took a side step to leave before he hesitated. "About earlier, I think I might have startled you and the other two maids whilst you were in conversation. I thought perhaps you wouldn't hear my knock above the noises in the kitchen but -- apparently you could. Do tell them that I apologize and to you as well."

  Alyce managed to coax a reassuring smile on to her face while she waved away his concern. "I shall let them know. Thank you, Esphyr Kytes."

  She waited until the mage returned to the manor before her body eased into a sigh. At least it did not seem he had heard Bea's remark or their conversation.

  Ruby glimmered at the edge of her vision and she angled her head to look at the stained glass mural. It was truly beautiful, but Alyce had always found it more haunting than alluring at night. Especially the two fire nymphs with garnet eyes.

  "I suppose he's polite enough, this follower of yours," she murmured, her eyes hovered to the torch the Lampades carried. "I really hope he's here just for the contract and nothing more."

  As if the nymphs of fire heard her, she thought the stone in her hand grew warmer. Her fingers shrank back, startled by the shocking pulse, but when she brought it up for closer inspection, the talisman's rune remained unremarkable. It was after all, a simple warming stone.

  Setting his traveling packs by the door, Kytes sighed with relief the moment he entered his quarters. After weeks of sleeping outdoors, he was grateful for a fresh bed, a sturdy roof above, and at fine last, respite. Not that he despised sleeping under the stars, but for once, he liked not having to worry about warding his camp from unsavory characters and therefore trapping himself inside his own spell work for hours or finding insects have climbed into his sleeping roll.

  The room was made ready long ago, the fire reduced but the temperature warm and inviting. He could make out the shape of a sizable bed, a rustic wardrobe and desk, and in the corner, a screen which presumably hid the bath behind it. The room's singular window shared a view of the stables, where the Sanctus pony, Mouse, was housed. It comforted him a little, seeing the structure. Kytes had felt a pang when he left Mouse to the manor's stable hand. She would undoubetdly be treated very well, her mane groomed far better than his own sloppy attempts and given heartier oats and treats. But the pony had been and embarassingly enough, his talking companion for the last year, not his guardian or teacher, but his soundboard when he needed a less judgmental ear.

  He exhaled into upturned hands, suppressing the desire to make his home in the stables and whirled about to inspect the fireplace. The pleasant scent of wood smoke drew him closer and he puzzled at the clearly engraved rune near the hearth. A quick look-over and a firm palm pressed against the engraving, he was certain it was empty of power. Runes stored not only magic but also traces of a sorcerer's power and an exceptional mage could extract details, motivations and a glimpse of a memory, just from a speck. Not that he had skills of that calibur, but Kytes had always enjoyed probing runes to learn about the heart of each mage, who renewed a rune. However, a long empty rune remembered nothing and Kytes found nothing but the thundering sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

  Steady rhythmic heels clicked down the hallway and stopped outside his still opened door.

  Hollis sighed, leaning her weight against the door frame. “Hardly six months and expired runes, with no binding clause to keep the contract valid? They must really thought no one would bother to check.” She peered into the room and saw her student paying rapt attention to the hearth rune. “You do not mean to renew that tonight.”

  “Only checking the runes’ condition before tomorrow,” Kytes answered. Looking past her, he spotted the wavering orange glow on the opposite side of the hallway and lurched to his feet.

  “You might fool most, but not me, student of mine. Thyis and I both know what you're up to,” Hollis called, watching her student amble into her room. “The maid's warming stone is a small spell compared to a hearth’s and I only agreed to let you renew the runes after you rest. Do not— ,”

  Hollis' warning was abruptly cut short as a loud crackle erupted from her fireplace. The fire upon the hearth had been swallowed by a blue and white smokeless flame and the natural one hissed as it melded into the one born from a mage's will. Searing white rippled and snapped along the warring surface until finally the hovering orb turned orange and, besides the occasional pop, quieted above the now abandoned charred firewood.

  At the same time, Kytes reeled back from the sigil, his footing unsteady. Without a word, Hollis gripped him by the shoulders and steered him toward a chair. It was only after he had taken a few deep breaths and his skin turned less gray that Hollis began to scold him.

  “That was foolish. Has doing big magicks made you full of yourself?”

  She filled an empty cup with water and pressed it into his hands. As he drank, she produced a crinkled wrapping from her side purse. The substance in the parcel was a slab of lumpy pine nuts encrusted within a layer of sugared ginger.

  Using a decent amount of force, Hollis broke off a small piece and gave it to her student. “Eat, now.”

  “I had to renew the runes anyway,” he pointed out, shoving the confection into his mouth. His teeth clacked against what felt like granite and he shuddered at the tooth aching sweetness.

  Hollis rapped her knuckles against his knee. “I expect you to heed my warnings, especially when I am responsible for your wellbeing.”

  Silently, he tackled the hardened sweet. It was only when the sickly sugar had begun to dissolve and he could finally chew through the toffee, albeit very, very slowly, that the weakness began to subside. The Sanctus provided traveling mages the confection and it was a priceless food stuff, only meant to be consumed when magic’s fatigue began to exert its toll on the mage's body. Each crumb, from the encrusted seed to the crystalline sugar, was filled with renewal magic, blessed by culinary mages. In ways beyond Kytes' comprehension, the sweet would keep well for several seasons without spoiling, though the potency of it would dwindle and so larger chunks would need to be consumed.

  “Months of binding ghosts within villages," Hollis continued to reprimand. "As talented as you are, those are high level spells, Kytes, and neither of us have properly slept in weeks. You are tired, both in body and mind. More than I realized. And I should have stopped you from offering aid.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “I was blinded by my own frustration with those Chapel mages and clearly, I have erred. Neburh's runes will wait.”

  Kytes’ eyes flicked up and he hastily swallowed the remaining sweet. “Renewing a hearth rune is simple. A night's respite and I'll be ready,” he argued. “I do not want to lose whatever trust we managed to have built with the baron…”

  “And would fainting on the spot improve his impression of our kind?” Hollis demanded.

  “Then I won't faint. I know my limitation,” her student hurriedly promised. Hollis only stared back, disbelief drawing both eyebrows high. “The people here harbor skepticism about mages, no thanks to that Chapel. But I can improve that perception and I've already made promises for the morrow.”

  “Kytes.”

  “Only the runes that are crucial to the manor’s workings and the communal ones in the castle town," Kytes pressed. "As promised."

  Hollis exhaled deeply, in a manner that Kytes recognized, in a manner he sometimes unintentionally echoed. His teacher was worried for him and though he was grateful for her care, he was no longer the nine year old boy she adopted as a ward. He was older now, a young man even, and the Blue Sanctus would not have allowed him out of Thalhurst if he wasn't capable.

  “Fine.” She handed the remaining confection in its wrapping to him. “Take the remainder with you and eat a small amount should you become weary.”

  He gratefully accepted it and pocketed the sweet. As a child, he would express his thanks with a tight hug but now he politely bowed his head, declined Hollis’ efforts to help him up, and walk out of her quarters.

  “It is difficult to change the minds of others with one good deed, Kytes,” Hollis told him before his door closed. “It was not us who cheated them.”

  “But to others outside mage society, we are one of the same.”

  “And now I wonder how much of your exhaustion comes from self righteousness or pride,” she said pointedly. “It is just how things are. There are good mages but there are more mediocre and lazy ones. And it is the latter two most civilians deal with because of what they can afford. You, my boy, are good but naive to care so much.” Hollis thumped the frame of her door with a fist. “We have more important things to attend to, and it is not renewing wards. Do not overexert yourself just for them. Do only what you are able. Understand?”

  Kytes acknowledged her with another polite bow then closed the door. Finally alone, he unfastened his cloak, its weight suddenly much heavier than it had been the whole day. As he draped it over a chair, his eyes wandered to the red embroidery, which graced the cloak's hems, the indicative symbols that represented the nature of his magic. A runic mage blessed with fire.

  Simpler magicks like renewing fire wards was not a good use of a runic fire mage's energy when any common stock could achieve it.

  He meant to unbutton his shirt's collar next, but the irritability he held under lock snapped. He snarled in frustration, wringing his hands through his hair and begun to pace.

  "It's simple enough and I can do it well. I'll just do what I can," Kytes muttered under his breath. "Then when all this is done and we've returned home, perhaps the Sanctus can look into the Chapel. That'll improve things for the people."

  Esphyr: Mage

  Is'et: the agricultural county located in the far southwest of the nation.

  Thalhurst: Holy city that houses the Blue Sanctus in the West.

  Scaidun: The village that bordered Is'et. Its residents in the midst of a Threnody

  Samhain: the end of autumn, beginning of winter