Imtha and Fenn looked out at the ship in the distance. It was getting steadily smaller as it moved away from Imperia and into the open sea. The docks in south harbour were buzzing with work. One ship was away while others were still moving cargo and crew back and forth between shore and hold. A tired and green orc came up beside them.

“Won’t be back a merry while. Might as well make space. Still work doing.”

Fenn took a deep breath. “Well, Ayana is off. Back to Tall Tower I guess.”

Imtha wiped away a tear. “I’m happy for her but I’m afraid for her. She’s not used to being isolated.”

Fenn took Imtha’s hand and did her best to be reassuring. “I’m sure we’ll see her again. A year today we’ll all be done our tours and sharing stories over tea. In the meantime, let’s get home.”

The walk from north harbour back to the Coven tower was over an hour. Imtha and Fenn shared gossip and jokes happily while they passed the Admiralty building, then the park at the centre of Imperia, the Heart, and eventually made it back to the tower. In the midst of the usual traffic of the main entrance, Master Joran’Teek had been waiting and approached them immediately.

“I take it Ayana is off well,” he said and carried on without giving time for a response, “Fenn, you’ve been summoned. High Master Ceron’Mascosius has called for you to meet him personally upon your return. I’m to take you up to his study.”

Fenn and Imtha froze.

Damnit. This can’t be good. What did I do?

“Uhh…” Imtha said slowly, “I’ll catch up with you later. Maybe fill me in after the dusk ritual? Good luck Fenn.”

Fenn was still processing the invitation as Imtha was off immediately.

I didn’t think Master Ceron even knew my name. Well, I guess he must know. Everyone knows. But why me? Why now?

“Master Joran,” Fenn said, “why am I summoned? High Master Ceron’Macosius doesn’t normally call on anyone but the other high masters.”

“I was not informed, Fenn. I was just instructed to bring you. And he’s waiting for you. Let’s be off.”

Fenn and Joran’Teek travelled in silence up the main staircase. One floor, then another, then another. Fenn passed the trainee dormitories, the study rooms, the library, the testing rooms, and then the masters residences. There were almost no stairs left to climb. They arrived at the fifteenth floor. There was nothing above them but the tower bells.

The high masters’ floor isn’t even labelled. Everyone just knows whose room is whose I guess.

Joran’Teek pushed a door open and Fenn followed. Another pair of doorways and they arrived at High Master Ceron’s study. A rug near the centre of the room had a fireplace on one side and a half circle of deeply padded chairs placed around it. The high master was already seated in one of the chairs and waved both of them forward.

High Master Ceron was shorter than typical for Alloci, nearly as short as Fenn. His skin had a greenish reddish tone. His grey hair sat underneath horns that seemed almost perfectly average.

He cuts his hair short like a city-born.

The high master’s cloak looked to be older than he was. It was deeply faded and showed numerous tears and patches that were keeping it all together. The runes were few but deeply elaborate, multiple layers of intricate detail circling around

Hells, that is a massive fire rune. If the sun ever goes out he could probably restart it. I’ve never seen half of these runes on the students or even the masters.

High Master Ceron waved a hand gently and low tables with tea slid up beside their chairs.

I didn’t even catch him reach for dust. These old masters are quicker than I give them credit.

His voice was unexpectedly cheerful. “You’ve made quite a stir, Fenn’Taeram.”

I’m sorry? You’re welcome? What are we doing here?

He continued, “I’ve just received a letter to inquire about your comments to the commodore last week. It is now on a pile of letters asking those same questions. All the tea rooms and coffee houses of high society in Imperia are retelling the story over and over. And a few write to me to ask if the version they’ve gossiped about is actually the truth.”

Stolen story; please report.

Fenn swallowed. “Apologies, high master. My choice of words was poor.”

“Poor?” he laughed, “that commodore is an asshole and everyone knows it. The city is enraptured that an alloci of all people ruined his day. Half the city is toasting you.”

“Oh,” Fenn said. She could feel her whole body relax and was quickly too aware of how much tension she was carrying.

Master Ceron took a sip of tea and then leaned in towards Fenn. “Your choice of words has afforded us an opportunity. Everyone is repeating the joke about forsaking your vows and going to that gala that Baron Closa is hosting. And now Baron Closa has written to me to insist that you attend. He feels your presence will be the height of wit.”

All of Fenn’s tension began to come back. “It’s a good joke but acolytes don’t attend those functions.”

“That’s precisely our opportunity. He wants you there as an acolyte. Cloak, runes, dust, all of it. You’ve just opened up a door that was always closed to us and now all you have to do is walk through it.”

“High Master, I don’t know if I’m the one to do this. I have the sea trials right away and I’ll be assigned to a ship soon.”

“Not a worry,” the high master replied, “your posting is being delayed. And the baron offered his niece as an escort for you to the gala. He’s even offered to pay for a fresh cloak to be measured and sewn.”

This is literally the life I’m avoiding.

After a long pause and thinking about crying, Fenn spoke up. “I don’t want to do this.”

The high master’s demeanor changed and his smile disappeared. “Fenn, the calendars read that this is the fourth age. What have you been told about the third age?”

We’re doing introductory lessons now?

Fenn spoke flatly. “The age of darkness.”

“That’s what we’re told”, High Master Ceron said. “History is a made up story that the strong enforce on the weak. Humans call it the dark age to make their admiralty look like this is the good age. The second age ended when the Allomir went mad and the dust stopped. And it wasn’t this slow progression of decline and realignment or whatever historians pretend it was. It happened in a day. The Allomir went mad and all the Allomiri who came from that realm to ours died within hours. The dust was gone. And without the dust ships couldn’t skip through the Allomir between ports and had to sail distances again. Communication stopped. Trade stopped. We relied on dust for everything, even as simple as food and crops. There was mass starvation within weeks. And us, the interbred, the Alloci, we all had horns and tails within a generation. They held us all responsible. It wasn’t a dark age for us, it was a massacre. Humans call it the age of darkness. Elven merchants might call it the age of bankruptcy, and the dwarves got to go back under the sea and have an age of privacy. But to us it was the age of massacre. Whole cities were razed. Some scraped by in torment and some fled beyond the wilds to villages like Ascensa. We’ve borne the stain for a thousand generations of a sin we never committed.”

And a pretty princess at a gala will change any of this?

“I’m not half as angry as I may seem, Fenn.” the High Master continued, “You do not have to choose. The opportunity has chosen you. A gala may feel small but it's a step in a larger path of progress. It's the year thirty-three-twelve of the fourth age and in all that time, the number of alloci in the admiralty’s inner circle could be counted on two hands. These are moments when the tide could be turning. The tide moves slowly and then all at once. So you’ll be there. You’ll be charming and beautiful. The Baron’s niece will have a lovely time. And all of our positions will be improved. We’re only delaying your sea trials a few months. You came to the Coven to serve. Do us all this service.”

Fenn dropped her eyes to the floor. “High Master, with respect, you treat me like I’m a pawn in a game you’re playing.”

Ceron’s smile returned. “It is a game, Fenn. Players change but the game does not.”

Fenn stayed in silence and thought about the instructions she’d been given. “One question, high master, if I may?”

“Certainly.”

“You said that my sea trials were being delayed for the gala. But Ayana was already chosen and the delay already happened before I spoke to the commodore. There’s something more going on.”

The high master’s eyes lit up. “Clever girl. Your mother would be proud. There is something greater at work and I was hoping you’d put it together. The gala is an opportunity but this is purpose. Real purpose.”

Fenn took that statement with even greater resignation. “What would my purpose be, High Master?”

High Master Ceron leaned in towards Fenn with a smile, as though he was about to say the most profound truth ever to be uttered. “Jaali.”

The hell? Jaali? What about him?

“I… don’t think I follow.” Fenn replied.

He leaned back and looked into the fire. “Jaali is a generational talent. His mastery of the allomir is nearly unnatural. He’s more gifted than he knows. But he’s also a fool and you’re the only one who seems to get through to him. I don’t like to use terms like ‘chosen one’ but Jaali’s role in everything, and by extension yours, is far greater than either of you can realize. You can give him focus and get him on task. And at sea, you can keep him from getting himself killed with his usual stupidity. Jaali may well be the future of the coven.”

He’s half insane already and whatever isn’t nuts is lazy beyond belief.

“Fenn, there is no greater thing you can do for the Coven or for any of us than to keep Jaali safe and help him reach his potential. We’ll make every accommodation to help you do that. Apart from the passing distraction of the gala, your only concern need be Jaali. If he makes progress then I promise you that we’ll make sure you have everything you need.”

Fenn stayed in silence and thought this all through.

So there’s nothing for me to accomplish. It’s Jaali or nothing.

“But,” Fenn said cautiously, “if Jaali and I are parts of a game, what are we playing towards?”

“All things in time, Fenn. The dusk rituals are nearly upon us. Take some time and focus on the tasks ahead of you. You’re dismissed.”

Master Joran’Teek lead Fenn out of the study and back to the staircase. Fenn didn’t know if she wanted to cry or scream.