The dawn sun shines through the barred window directly onto Salaya's face. She's up in a trice, scarcely touching the floor with her tiptoes so as not to wake the others. Ariel and Eje sleep in corners on mattresses of bound straw. Eje complained last night about the poor quality of the beds, but Salaya stopped listening to her at some point.

Salaya is fully dressed and slipping out the door in no time. She splashes water on her face from the aqueduct down the hall and rinses her mouth out. Bag in hand, tune in throat, she springs up the stairs to greet the servants already up and fixing the morning meal. She especially enjoys talking to Melmal, an elderly darling who reminds Salaya of her own mother. However on this morning, her mind is too occupied to stay long, and she leaves accepting only a fresh berry pastry and flask of cider. Wandering outside, she walks along the edge of the training field watching for imprints. There is no more time for humming. At one point she lies on the ground where someone else fell, the impact breaking the grass. She missed daybreak, but at least she can watch the sun rising through the clouds, its rays warming the castle walls, shining in through the narrow windows – that one there must be Team Twenty-Four's. The birds call as they pass away, seeking their fortunes further out from civilisation, and she follows them for a time, back along that wooded path to where the culmination of her mental and physical prowess crumbled in a single dark moment. She sits by the water on a rock, chewing soft pastry and sipping cider as kingfishers dip in and out of the glassy river chasing silver morsels.

Again Salaya rolls up her sleeve to check her arm. But just like every previous time she checked, the arm is intact with not so much as a scar to mark where the orc struck. Last night when she looked up at Brant bearing down on her, she could have sworn she instead saw that orc shaman with the clawed amulet around his neck. Now she can't get the picture out of her mind. The possibility that the orc's amulet was somehow connected to the negation amulets they wore last night hasn't passed her, and wiping the crumbs from her shirt, she reaches into her bag and fishes around, settling on a book about applications of warding. She skims it, taking the occasional note, but there's nothing promising beyond what's taught to children about natural warding and the ways in which it can be fortified. Natural warding can only absorb. It can't deflect magic like a shield deflects a blow. A newer book categorizing all known instances of orc ability also shows nothing. Orcs have no magical ability and little to no capacity for natural warding, even less than animals or some plants. Perhaps it was the amulet itself that stopped her. But she's never heard of such an enchantment, and good enchanters are hard to find. It's hard enough to imagine a person enchanting such an amulet, but an orc is inconceivable. If only she were back at Three Peaks, or any large city, she could consult a library, but in a town her resources are limited. Her best chance is to ask around. Salaya jumps to her feet. And if nobody at the castle knows, she could always write to Trofeia and ask her to look into it. She nearly runs back on the same worn trail full of broken branches and snapped ferns. She doesn't even think to check her arm until she's back at the castle reading the listings.

The sundial in the courtyard tells her she has plenty of time before breakfast, but there's a good chance others are already up. She climbs flight after flight of stone stairs, each floor ladened with different coloured pennants. Green for the scouts, red and green for guards, blue for teachers. Finally she's at the top, looking out over battlements. No, one more floor. This must be up the spire. The staircase winds up and around until she's dizzy, then more dizzy when she looks out a window, and then she's at the top. A single door greets her. A paper pinned lopsided to a door reading 'Dolmion, Mage Guild Representative'. She knocks twice. “Enter.” says a voice from within.

Salaya's interactions with officials from the Mage Guild have been few. The instructors, like the one who gave her group its aptitude test, always seem ordinary enough. But there's a rumour saying that in order to climb to the top, a mage must be eccentric. Not merely hard-working, but willing to see the world not just for what it is, but for what it will become. They call it 'creativity', but others tend to call it strangeness. Submissions of problems to the Mage Guild council are often rejected with a letter inviting the petitioner to 'have your descendants resubmit in one hundred years'. The King Himself, it is said, once asked the guild council for advice on dealing with a drought and was told the matter was of no importance as it wouldn't last more than five years.

The office inside is sparse. The floor is uncarpeted and strewn with papers. A stout mage sits at a desk, all the books and memos and letters stacked precariously on one side, the other reserved for an entire ham pie and a bottle. He puts down his fork with a clatter and gives Salaya a pleasant bellow as she bows. “Well now then, young miss, what's the meaning of interrupting a poor man's meal?”

“I'm so sorry, sir.” says Salaya. “I didn't meant to interrupt anything. I'll come back in time.”

“Nonsense, nonsense.” chides the mage, his voice echoing off the bare walls. “Twas only a jest. My wife says I should be interrupted as often as possible while eating.” He gives her a broad wink. “Now, what's the cause of this?”

“Well, you see, sir-”

“Dolmion, please.”

“Well, you see, Dolmion, I'm Salaya, a new colour mage. I have a little question about, well, I'm not exactly sure how to phrase it. What do you know about deflecting magic?”

“Deflecting magic?” Dolmion raises an eyebrow and pulls his hand away from the bottle. “Can you elaborate?” Salaya tells him about her fight with the orc shaman, though leaving out how nervous she felt and the difficulty she had sleeping. When she finishes, Dolmion leans back in his chair. “Salaya,” he says after several moments of staring at the ceiling, “I myself have fought orcs on more than a few occasions, and I know people who have fought them on many more. I have never heard of what you described to me, but perhaps I can give you an explanation. When in battle, people tend to miss things. It's perfectly normal for even veterans; missiles are flying about, yells, the scream of magic, and so on. Then after the battle, the mind focuses on one thing that it may be remembering fully, but most likely it isn't. It fills in the gaps with whatever seems plausible, and becomes cast iron memory. There's one theory I heard that after witnessing violence, a mind that isn't accustomed to that sort of nastiness becomes traumatised and invents alternatives to what happened in order to cope. An orc has no capacity for magic and thus could never deflect a fire spell, even if it were possible to, which I doubt. What seems most likely to me is that you missed or your spell was insufficient, and your mind has decided, quite reasonably I should say, that something else went wrong. That's not a slight on you, mind. Nobody can go into battle and come out unscathed either physically or mentally.”

“Is that...are you really sure about it?” asks Salaya, her stomach clenching.

Dolmion shrugs. “I suppose it's also possible that we're facing some sort of new breed of orc that is magically proficient in ways we haven't yet seen.” He chuckles. “But that's not an option we should consider without a few more reports.” Darkness closes in on Salaya.

“I want to apologise, alright?” says Eje. “I really thought we'd win last night and I got frustrated when we didn't. It was more bad luck than anything, and I shouldn't have yelled at you two.” Ariel looks over her mug of tea in surprise. She didn't expect Eje to be the sort to admit wrongdoing, but then, she's only known her for about a day.

“It's fine.” says Salaya. She barely looks up.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I understand why you wouldn't want me to lead the group, but let's not decide on anything rashly. I really just want to do well, that's all, and I'm not used to working on a team. But I'll get better. I promise you that.” Eje stands up off the bench. “There's a meeting soon. I'll look into it.”

Ariel watches Eje leave for a few seconds then turns back to Salaya. “Are you sure you're ok?” she asks. “You haven't eaten anything.”

“Don't worry. I scrounged up some food before breakfast.” Salaya gives her a reassuring smile. “I don't think I'd be ok with Eje leading the team though.”

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“Me neither.” Ariel agrees. “She makes me uneasy. Like she's in it for herself first.”

“You should be team leader, Ariel.”

“What?” Ariel can't believe what she's hearing. “How could I be the leader? I don't know anything about, well, leading.”

“That's why you're a good choice.” says Salaya. “You have no fanciful notions, no unreasonable expectations. I watched you last night. You kept your head and did the right thing every time.” Ariel looks at the ground, unsure of how to respond. “Just think about it, ok? You won't have to be a commander of anything. Just a few quick directions when we need them. You're clearly smart; I think you'd excel with a little practice.”

There's something deeply exciting about directing people and coming up with plans. But at the same time, the thought of being responsible for a missions success or failure terrifies her. That must be at least partially why Eje was so angry last night: the plan was hers, the decision to wait her own, the initiative was taken by her. She couldn't help but feel responsible for their loss and vented her anger on them. “I promise you one thing. I'll never blame you guys, only support you when things go wrong.”

“Speaking of which, Ariel, have you ever been in a real battle before?”

“No.”

“Well I have. Just one though, right before I arrived at Lakeview. Our convoy went to rescue a village from orc raiders.”

“So you got to fight orcs? What was that like?”

“Thrilling, but also frightening. Can you keep a secret?” Ariel nods. “Look at this.” Salaya rolls up her left sleeve and bares her upper arm. “Do you see any scars?” Ariel examines the smooth skin dotted with little pale hairs, the slight curvature of the bicep, the blue veins around the crook of the elbow.

“No, your arm looks normal.”

“It should be, but I keep seeing the scars. During that battle, I got hit. Twice. A massive orc with a knife. I shielded myself, but that's only so effective. The scars have healed over nice and clean, but I can't stop feeling them. Then I look at my arm and they're both there, sometimes bleeding again. I blink, my eyes focus, and they're gone. My arm is clear, but my mind isn't. I like to be happy, Ariel, but it isn't always easy.”

“Is it getting worse?”

“Too early to say.”

“Well,” Ariel wracks her brain, “I do know of a trick that can calm the mind. It might help you get over this.”

“What is it?”

“It's a sort of mental magic, but anyone can do it. Just focus on a single object. Stare at it with all your might.” Salaya looks down at her spoon. “Now call on your magical energy. Bring it up but don't shape it or release it. Just let it run through you as you stare at the object. If that doesn't work you can close your eyes and just imagine it, but you need to focus only on that one thing.”

Salaya closes her eyes. After several seconds, she asks “Then what?”

“That's it. Just hold that focus and don't think about anything else. I like to do it for five minutes or so before bed every night. Ten minutes if I'm troubled by something, and by the time I'm finished, I won't be.” Salaya kneads her temples but keeps her eyes shut.

“Alright,” says Eje, popping up behind them, “the meeting will start soon. What are talking about?”

“Nothing.” says Salaya, opening hers. “Just trying to relax, but it isn't working. How do you focus when the magic is so loud, Ariel?”

“Er, it just happens, I guess.” says Ariel. “That's never been a problem for me.”

“Well if it isn't Miss Ariel.” Ariel looks around before finding the source of the voice. It's someone bushy and beaming. Knives in rough belts. Then she remembers.

“Ridgeway?”

“Ah, you've remembered me. How flattering. And who are these two lovely maidens? Is this your team? My name is Ridgeway. I'm a friend of Ariel's.” He bows.

“I didn't you had mercenary friends.” says Salaya.

“I was about to give her a tour of the place,” explains Ridgeway, “but we didn't have the time.”

“Well we don't have the time now either.” says Eje. “We need to get going. We don't want to be late for this.”

“Come on, what's the rush?” says Ridgeway. “I know how those meetings go. You give praise to the king, you tell some inspirational stories. Pshaw! It's all for show. My friends and I can tell you some real stories about hunting orcs in the badlands. One time we found a camp of nearly fifty of them. Just me and three of my friends had to track and pick them off, one by one. They didn't even notice it at first, the dumb brutes. But every morning they'd wake up and their numbers'd be lower and lower. Even an orc will eventually notice when its flanks are becoming more exposed. The key–”

“Not now, later.” insists Eje. “We're going to be selecting missions, and I think I hear them starting now.” She grabs Ariel and Salaya by each arm and pulls them out of their seats and away. “You can tell her later.” Ridgeway waves as Ariel hurries to keep up with Eje's pace.

“Come on, Eje.” says Salaya. “That wasn't nice, especially to Ariel's friend. He was telling us something interesting about orc hunting.”

“He was just bragging.” says Eje, not letting go of their arms. “I should have pulled you away sooner.”

“He's not really my friend, Salaya.” says Ariel, secretly relieved at having an excuse to leave. “I just met him the other day and he wanted to give me a tour.”

“I'll bet he did.” says Eje, her pace quickening. “I don't trust mercenaries in general, especially the ones who stare so much. And if I were half as pretty as you, Ariel, I'd trust them even less. They care about themselves only. Just avoid him next time.” Ariel's head spins from this, but she allows Eje to pull them into the courtyard where everyone is gathering.

“Is that Ebin?” asks Salaya. “Hey, Ebin! What are you doing here? And with Brogan and Annya?”

“Hi Salaya.” A man in chainmail says. “I'm assigned to Annya and her team Eight. Brogan is also here, and this is their third, Arrigos.” Arrigos nods. Annya and Ariel exchange a wave.

“He was our tutor and a leader back at Three Peaks.” Salaya tells Ariel and Eje. “Of course he would end up on a team with Broga and Annya.”

Realisation dawns on Ariel. “I heard there would be four members to a team.” she says. Up in front of a board, teams are listed by merit. Team Twenty-Four is at the bottom with zero merit, while Team Seventeen somehow has nearly ten, along with about a third of the twenty-seven teams, while bold black numbers indicate Team Four and the other winning teams have twenty. But there's something off about the number of teams; Ariel could have sworn there'd be more, but she can't quite remember why.

“We're supposed to get a new member and pick a mission.” says Eje, her voice rasping with annoyance. “The members are predetermined the same way the teams were, but the missions aren't. Because we're late, all the good ones are being taken.” The top nine teams that won have already taken first pick of the options: orc hunts, a caravan guard to Salkrit. Team Seventeen is in the process of wiping a mission off to investigate a ruined village with their newest member, a hunter with a longbow.

“Our team could really use some more range.” remarks Salaya as they get in line for the mission board. Ariel looks at each of them. Eje is a fighter and Salaya's colour magic probably doesn't have much potency beyond about fifty paces. But the thought of a fourth member, someone older and more experienced, worries her. She can already feel a dynamic between her and Salaya keeping Eje somewhat in check. There's no knowing what their new party member will do to upset that.

“These members are already assigned, right?” says Salaya. “I don't want to end up with nobody and then get stuck with some dreary soldier because there weren't enough people to go around.” She looks around. “And more importantly, how did Team Seventeen get partial merit anyway? They didn't do any better than us last night.”

“There's Ranim Harki again.” says Eje. “You want to ask him, Ariel?” Ariel does not, and looks away. But Ranim Harki is headed straight for them, his stooped shoulders pumping to keep up with the woman walking beside him. He waves to them. “Oh gods, he remembers.” moans Eje. “That can't be good.”

“Ah, Team Twenty-Four again.” says Ranim, surveying them with a wink and a smack of his lips. “A disappointing result last night, I must say, especially for our young Muse here. But I believe I've found the solution. Eje, Salaya, You There, this is Octave, one of Bladesbury's best. I've selected her to be your fourth member, and I believe you'll all be pleased with the arrangement.”

“Three promising of the more promising names I've yet to come across. You've outdone yourself, Ranim.” Octave says in a flat contralto. She's tall, almost a head above Ranim's stooped frame, which makes the nods almost imperceptible.

“If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask.” Ranim walks away without a second glance.

“Hello there.” says Salaya, her voice almost musical. “I'm Salaya. This is Ariel, and Eje. It's great to meet you.” Octave nods to each of them with a slight inclination of her head. When she walks, it's with an easy pace, not like Salaya's delicate yet firm steps or Eje who always seems to be creeping up on someone no matter how quickly she's going. Her face could have been carved; she scarcely so much as blinks.

“It's our turn.” says Eje, stepping up the board. If she's unhappy at the team being given a mercenary, she isn't showing it. Each team is labelled on one side and on the other are the available missions, all in black ink shiny with enchantment. “Sorry that this has to be your first mission.” She says to Octave. “If Ariel's mercenary friend, sorry acquaintance, hadn't wasted so much of our time, we'd have better choices than this.” Only three missions are left.

“One of these is an orc hunt.” suggests Ariel. Of all the things she wants to say, this feels the least impactful, but there's no sense bringing up other things now, when there's another team behind them.

“No.” says Eje. “That's to Hillside. Nobody wants to go there, even orcs. I guarantee it's just one or two loners who got lost and showed up by accident. Now that leaves the bandits ambushing travellers or the floods.” They consider the choices for several moments.

“If I can make a suggestion,” says Octave, “dealing with floods and water damage is a bad idea unless one of you happens to be an excellent water mage. And even if one of you is, there's going to be a great deal of manual labour for us all.”

“Let's go with the bandits then?” They agree.