Water closed over my head, flooding my world, drowning out other sights and sounds.

But not all my senses. Not my Empathy. The undine, strangely for a creature trying to kill me, still felt victimized and full of suffering. Her attack on me seemed the grief-stricken smashing of a convenient nearby object, venting some of her negative feelings but possibly leaving her as bitter and broken in the aftermath.

Still, understanding her motives weren't truly malicious hardly availed me here. Shock had kept me from panicking or really reacting until now -- I was out of my depth, literally and otherwise -- but I soon realized of course I needed to breathe. And couldn't.

I didn't know what I could do, either. Surrounded by water, in the undine's home turf, I was entirely at her dubious mercy. I opened my mouth to beg and clamped it shut too late; the gargled, muffled noise I'd made wasn't intelligible even with [Intermediate Universal Translation].

Bubbles escaped upward. My precious air! Dismayed, I forgot myself and inhaled... which was the worst possible course of action. With the first lungful of water, all rational thought fled.

I began to struggle blindly and madly in earnest. Flailing, choking, exactly as I knew I shouldn't.

This crucible of agony continued for some interminable time.

But then the strangest thing happened. It was like my weakened body gave up, and with that release an eerie calmness descended. The pain became replaced with patient waiting. I understood this was it, I was actually going to die here. Rather than feeling afraid or bothered, I was more incredulous I would drown in a relatively shallow and insignificant river from a common undine. I'd expected to be more emotional over my impending doom -- I knew logically I did not wish to die -- but in this last moment, I felt only disbelieving and uncaring, a weird admixture of two common refrains: 'I cannot believe this is happening to me. But oh well.'

My limbs felt too heavy to move. My eyes were closed. I floated, unresisting, carried by the current...

Then suddenly I burst through the surface -- I'd no idea I was so close until the breakthrough moment! -- and gasped in air. Oh, sweet, sweet air! I heaved in giant breaths unquestioningly, coughing and gulping even as relief flooded my veins...

Just as I was yanked under again. The undine's soft titters floated to my ears as over open air. She... she was playing with me. I hadn't been rescued at all, and for that matter, I now realized we'd traveled so far downstream I could barely feel my frantic friends. Even Blake couldn't keep up, or possibly he had trouble tracking our underwater passage.

I supposed I should've felt more frightened or skipped straight back to panic at this point. But I had grown up on the shores of Orinavia. Some of my earliest, fondest memories involved swimming or reading by the water. I'd enjoyed diving deep, holding my breath before resurfacing. It was totally illogical, since the undine could drown me all the same -- I nearly had drowned already -- but my mind kept sending me conflicting signals, associating water with comfort and nostalgia rather than pure horror.

Moreover, I could sense my attacker's lack of genuine hostility towards me. She was even feeling slightly better, or at least better distracted, which made me less unhappy in turn. Gah, her water-boosted charm must still be affecting me through my Empathy.

No, it was good I wasn't panicking again, right? Overall, I was battered and disoriented, but physically, aside from the breathing difficulties, this wasn't even as bad as the Book for [Magic Hand].

"Stupid thing! Swim, swim why don't you!"

Also, an undine was speaking to me. Underwater. In a voice nearly as beautiful as her mesmerizing song. Wasn't that kind of amazing? Her musical speech seemed to resonate through the river, leaving a ringing echo like the chiming of crystal. Since all other noise was muted and distorted, hers impressed as all the more pure and clear.

I hadn't known she would sound like that when she wasn't singing. I tried to recall what I did know of undines, but facing the live specimen up close wasn't at all like reciting facts to my annoying first client from dry land. They... enjoyed seeing us struggle, right? Did that mean I should or shouldn't?

No, more importantly, I couldn't count on rescue. I needed some way to save myself. But it was already growing harder to focus, I needed...

She pushed me back to the surface, teasing me with only a quick breath this time before pulling me under. So this was her game: catch and release. Even now, she wasn't particularly interested in me, a cat idly toying with a piece of string. I was glad for it, since it bought me time to think.

My Skills all seemed quite useless for escape, but finally I remembered I wasn't completely empty-handed. Coming from Helulo, I was still wearing my exercise clothes, which I'd bought purely for functionality rather than fashion. In particular, they contained pockets. Snugly secured pockets so as to avoid jostling items when running, jumping, or climbing. And in these pockets I carried my three Scrolls.

Including a teleportation Scroll! But no, I didn't think I could cast that one blind while moving, or drifting, or whatever was happening in the all-enveloping water. On the other hand... Keeping my motions slow and deliberate, I withdrew the Scroll from my right pocket. With painstaking care, pouring my mana into the runic arrays I'd Scribed not that long ago, I cast: "Mana Barrier."

The used Scroll crumbled to particles in my hand. To my relief, mana streamed in front of me, presumably forming a bluish rectangular pane, though I couldn't tell in this greater blueness, and then I found myself paddling hurriedly while angling it so that the current pushed me up against its solid surface rather than sweeping me away from possible salvation.

My sudden, jerky movements caused the undine to drift closer attentively, but she seemed more curious to see what I would try than looking to stop me. I yearned to head straight for the surface, but that would only tempt her to drag me right back under. Instead, I used the barrier to push me horizontally to the riverbank and then along its slope, like dragging a spoonful of stew up the side of a bowl. I kept my movements careful and controlled rather than forceful and hurried, trying not to provoke the undine's baser instincts.

A notification chimed as my head finally emerged. For the first time in my life, I ignored it in favor of breathing in deep and monitoring the undine, my heart pounding hard as I continued simulating calmness. She merely seemed bored and dispirited. She wasn't following! I kept my movements oh-so-slow, uninteresting, lethargic even, regaining my feet and tottering unsteadily away.

None of my book-learnt precautions saved me. I felt it, the moment her blackening mood abruptly shifted outward again, but there was nothing I could do. The wave engulfed me as effectively as my Entangling Vines had overtaken that training golem and pulled me as inexorably back, back into my aqueous coffin.

I hit the water with an impact that hurt, mentally even more than physically. As I lay there, stunned and despairing, the undine came right up to me and said, "Hmph, are you even trying? What a useless little thing you are."

She was clearly speaking to herself, not anticipating any response. But I was desperate at this point, grabbing onto any sign or hope of civilized behavior. I thought of how I'd piggybacked off Duni's telepathic projections, how I'd spoken to King Rat on nonhuman frequencies, and I opened my mouth -- ignored the air bubbles escaping -- and said: "Um, sorry?"

She startled, and bolstered, I continued, "I want to do better, really. It's only that you are so much stronger. Also I'm tired. Could we perhaps take a break?"

She drifted closer still, watching me with condescending interest as though I were an entertaining pet showing a clever new trick. "How are you waterspeaking?"

After exerting myself, I was too busy struggling with lack of air to respond, and she impatiently pushed me back to the surface. Then, before I could gulp down more than a single breath, she dragged me under and away in a forceful current like when she'd first taken me. Lost, dizzy, I felt as if she were spinning me in blind circles through a three-dimensional maze, judging our progress mostly by how rapidly we gained distance from my friends.

When we stopped and resurfaced, it took me several long, shaky breaths to realize I still couldn't see. Judging from the undine's careless curiosity, she didn't have that problem, and I asked: "Do you mind if I create a light?"

"Go on," she spoke dismissively.

"Light." Under the glowing orb, I saw a rocky ledge nearby protruding from a moss-slick wall and swam over to clamber onto it. The hard surface pressed against my aches and bruises, but I slumped gratefully onto the resting spot anyway before looking around. In the dim illumination, the undine in her filmy dress seemed entirely shaded in darker blues. My light shone off her and especially the midnight pools of her eyes oddly, as through water of varying, occasionally shifting depths, but didn't reach the far walls or ceiling. "Where are we?" Some sort of cave?

"Somewhere we won't be disturbed." She smiled as though she'd pulled one over on me. She had a lovely smile, but I couldn't help noticing her pearly white teeth were subtly sharper than a human's.

I swallowed, ignoring the burn in my throat. "Hello," I said. "I'm Rowena Loress. Or just Rena."

"Never mind that. How can you waterspeak? Are you not human?"

"I have a Skill, [Intermediate Universal Translation]," I said, wondering now her curiosity was satisfied if she'd promptly resume drowning me. But despite her affected aloofness, the diversion of conversation appeared to improve and stabilize her mood. I chose to continue pretending at social niceties: "May I ask your name?" Even lesser water nymphs had them, right?

She drew herself up, the motion causing water to cascade off her. "I am Nailla of Deep Blue."

"Na-eh-la?" I repeated. "Um, nice to meet you." She laughed, a musically mocking sound. "Well, except for the almost-drowning," I allowed.

"Perhaps you have a death wish? That would explain much."

"I do want to live," I protested, "But I know I can't win against you in the water." Or on land, realistically.

"No" -- she smiled again -- "But I might let you go if you impress me."

I hesitated. That sounded like one of those story quests, which... I couldn't possibly... but the thought did give me an idea. "What if I offer you entertainment in another way?"

"You aren't my type."

I frowned at the instant dismissal. "How do you know? You haven't heard one of my stories yet."

"Stories?" She threw back her head and laughed, her form rippling in time with the musical sound. "Silly thing, this isn't a fairytale. Think you to spin a satisfying yarn until your friends find us? Weave and entangle me in weeds of deceit? Move me with the poetry of your words until I am compelled to let you go?" She tossed her hair. "You will fail."

"Ah, then... what if I listen to your story instead?" I offered and asked what I burned to know: "Such as what happened to the other undines?"

Her amusement evaporated. She looked at me with darkly swirling eyes, her form coiling dangerously, and said, "You would remind me of that right now?"

I shrunk back but asked: "Was it humans?"

"Who else would set such a cowardly trap?" I could tell she was torn between airing her grievances and withholding, less from caution than embarrassment.

"Do you know which humans?"

"Landlubbers." I stared at her, and she challenged, "Why, can you tell us undines apart?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "But... did you know the humans before? Or how'd they know to set a trap? Perhaps you, um, nearly drowned one of them?"

"Oh deities, this is our first time here! We heard delightful stories and decided to journey around the world ourselves. But how typical, blaming the tricks of a mischievous few on us all. As though every undine and lesser nymph is the same!"

"You mean like treating all humans as the same?" I couldn't resist pointing out. "Blaming and hating us all for what befell your sisters?"

"What else should I do?" she challenged. "Wail and beat my breast? Compose a sad song? Chase my tail in circles?"

I glanced down in surprise, confirming she indeed had a tail -- so much for my keen powers of observation -- before refocusing on her so-beautiful, blue-hued face. "You could return home."

"Ah," she said, "So that is your goal."

"No, I just mean... I envy you have a home you can return to."

"Appealing to my pity? You truly know nothing of us!"

At the moment, speaking to her did feel like paddling against a current. "I am happy to learn."

"Then know this," she said, "I will not give up on my sisters."

I stared. "Um, I thought they were…"

"They're alive." My obvious surprise seemed to satisfy her, as she continued: "The humans baited us with awful music, then when we rightly mocked them, the seeming cowards overturned their wagon and fled. So many pretty, shiny trinkets spilled out, lures for the unwary. We competed to leave the water first and tumbled carelessly into their trap. Ah, my sorry sisters... Fools."

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

She spoke scornfully, but on the last word, her gaze and aura softened. Staring at her, it was easy to tell how dearly she loved her sisters. My heart twisted; her tale cast her situation in a very different light. Somebody simply removing dangerous undines to protect the populace wouldn't bother trapping them alive. This suggested some other intention, though I couldn't imagine what.

No, I didn't want to imagine. Even the best-case scenario involved effective enslavement, undines serving as pretty fountain showpieces in some rich person's parlor.

Of course I sympathized. Of course she was upset. But that didn't mean I would let her drown me. More to the point, I was starting to shiver.

Now I had steady seating and could see, I should be able to escape with my teleportation Scroll. This knowledge fueled my courage for one final plea: "Please let me go. I am not responsible for what happened to your sisters, and hurting me won't help bring them back."

Her eyes fixed on me appraisingly. I could feel her emotions hardening again, so I was surprised when she said, "Perhaps I will. You are not much more than a morsel, anyway."

I stared at her. "You eat people?"

She stared back. "You waste good meat?" Seeing my appalled expression, she laughed. "What a curious human you are! You do know your people eat mine on occasion as well?"

"No!" I gasped.

She laughed and laughed. But as I was hoping she'd been joking, she shook her head and said, "Such a sheltered little pearl. What a pleasure to pry open your oyster's shell first."

Considering I knew oysters were considered a delectable delicacy, I did not appreciate this analogy. But then she reached out and smiled at me, showing all her lovely sharp teeth. "Come then, take my hand, little one. And I will return you to the surface."

Her expression mocked me: Do you trust me? I didn't, and even sensing her feelings, I could not guess what she would do next.

But it wasn't in me to deny that outstretched hand, not after her soul-baring story. I placed mine in hers, surprised to note our similarities: our delicate fingers, trimmed nails, and smooth skin, the one pale and other blue-toned. She also looked at our hands in some surprise and then seemed a little pleased and rueful both.

"This is why we're warned not to talk with our food," she said, sighing, before once more engulfing me in her smothering embrace.

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All in all, I had mixed feelings over my meeting with the undine. I was honestly glad for the experience but also sorry to have so worried my friends. I was sympathetic to the undine's plight but also concerned she remained a clear and present danger. I was ecstatic to have gained [Mana Barrier]. But also, I was miserable.

It'd been easy to ignore my bodily woes in the adrenaline-fueled moment, and even after, I'd stoically borne my difficulties to reassure my friends. But the next morning I regretted everything. I ached all over and more than ever. I told myself I'd probably be feeling twice as awful and also sick as a dog if not for Senior Rubrik's stocked potions, but still, I'd never been in so much pain in my life! Physical pain.

That was it, I decided I wasn't leaving my bed until it stopped hurting.

This resolution lasted until I finished my book. Then I had nothing to do but lay there, torn over my choices.

My friends had wanted to report the attack on me right away and see the undine killed, captured, or at least driven off, which should be simple now she was alone. When I'd protested, they'd stared at me and Blake had said it: "Are you crazy? Even crazier than your normal crazy?"

"She let me go!"

"Great, so she's not only a man-killer, she's fickle too."

Ultimately, my logical argument... all right, my emotional pleas carried the day. Which meant if Nailla attacked anybody again, that would be on me.

But of course she was lashing out, lacking any other form of redress. Her reasons didn't excuse her actions, but they did make me hesitate to let adventurers dispose of her like any common monster. She could've killed me and hadn't; that had to count for something, right?

Finally, I forced myself to hobble through the Scholar's Quarters to our Guildhall -- it was an arduous and harrowing journey, all right -- where I sought out my truest and trustiest lighthouse in any storm. Then forgetting all about my own suffering, I sunk deep into my chosen book.

As described in Nymphs, Naiads, and Nereids: Spirits of the Water, undines and other water spirits were unusual creatures possessing a rather unique life cycle. They could theoretically live forever, but with increasing age so too the increasing instinct for change, reset upon each evolution, until in their highest evolution forms they naturally and voluntarily returned to the water, which appeared from the outside as a simultaneous melting and evaporating. This self-dissolution could take place at any stage, including as a lesser water nymph, and always resulted in a new nymph forming nearby. (An involuntary dissolution, typically where the water spirit was slain, produced no new nymph or none in the vicinity.)

Some believed the same essential water spirit returned, simply without their former looks, abilities, memories, or evolutions: a beautiful blank slate. Regardless, other water spirits treated them as an entirely new entity with no relation to their progenitor.

Also strangely, unlike most species evolutions, water spirits did not experience straightforward upgrades. Each evolution became more specialized, meaning also more limited, and the fact evolved forms were significantly more powerful was in part because of their greater age and experience. Some water spirits embraced these changes, despite the drawbacks, while others chose self-dissolution rather than accept them.

Lesser water nymphs, for example, had no true gender or even a fixed form, alternating between humanoid and non-humanoid freely. This was a bit confusing because people normally referred to any monster as 'it' regardless of gender, but water spirits with their famed feminine beauty were among the exceptions. Incidentally, water was seen as a traditionally female element -- some cultures still preferred all-female sailors -- in part because water spirits largely preferred evolving into female humanoid forms. (I'd only ever seen brief mentions of the male potamoi or tritons and read their respective chapters with interest here.)

As an undine, Nailla had five known evolutions. She could become a shapeshifting nixie, a versatile trickster but relatively weak; or a siren, specializing in her music and charm; or, fully embracing her potential as a water elemental, a freshwater naiad, seawater nereid, or traveling oceanid, known to wander even into the Underworld.

Instead of evolving, she could also undergo a rarer transition, such as into the more solitary and malevolent rusalka. I chose to believe she wouldn't and wondered how she would evolve, since she was clearly on the cusp. Apparently it hadn't been my imagination she'd appeared green-blue in the sunlight and deep-blue in the cave, as such natural camouflage, the undine gradually blending in with her surrounding waters, was a sign of strong shapeshifting potential. But Nailla also possessed immense charm, or at least I thought so, albeit I was especially susceptible. Finally, a comparison of her demonstrated abilities with the book's description suggested she was at least above average at water-shaping. It seemed no coincidence she alone of the undines had survived the trap set for them.

The thought made me shiver a little; underwater, a swarm of undines could become a Platinum-Ranked threat, and even on land they could overpower Gold-Rankers. I tried to imagine Nailla attacking with true malice and urgency, and most crucially, with her sisters to support and coordinate with her. One misstep and those pretty teeth could sink into a fleshy neck, those delicate fingers could rip and tear, and all the while those lovely voices could fog the mind. Whoever had targeted a whole school of them must be capable and confident indeed.

Frowning, I pursued this thought. The undine was classified as a monster, which made whatever had happened to the others not only legal but arguably laudable. And she'd all but admitted she drowned people and ate them. That made her a monster, didn't it? So what if she was also a thinking, feeling being... a witty conversationalist... a lonely, frightened sapient.

The book noted most water spirits, including undines, were highly social creatures. They could thus be domesticated, raised from formation to guard lakes, pools, and moats. Indeed, a whole chapter was dedicated to modern and historical uses for them; I'd lost my appetite at the mention of culinary recipes originating from island nations.

To the undines, didn't we seem the monsters? Had Nailla only let me go because I seemed too hapless to be monstrous? I buried my face in my arms and groaned. Despite my seeming naïveté, I did understand Nailla was no friend of humans generally or me particularly. It felt stupid to try helping her. It felt wrong not to try.

Which was worse, to be stupid or wrong?

The book didn't contain any of the real answers I sought, but it had helped me contextualize and reformulate my questions. And I realized I did see Nailla as someone worth saving. Maybe she was a monster and aggressor too, but she wasn't like King Rat or Duni's other minions. She was her own person and couldn't be respawned.

The same could be said for Duni itself. Enough time had passed I could affirmatively state I wasn't in its thrall. And I thought I finally could rationalize my conflicted feelings.

At first I'd merely been curious to meet a dungeon that wasn't Hellsfell, as though that might help exorcise traumatic memories. Then I discovered the supposedly newborn dungeon wasn't mindless. Yet nobody else seemed to think this made all the difference, and I wasn't referring to its potential threat level.

Like Nailla, Duni was different, nonhuman. But so what? Did that mean I shouldn't care? Did that make them less than us? Did they not deserve to live, to be free?

Though I didn't want them free to kill people, either.

I'd never minded the practice of consuming Developing Cores, when I considered the matter at all; those dungeons weren't truly intelligent or no more so than the dumbest cattle. Mature Cores required hard-fought battles to reach and still didn't seem self-aware. Elder Dungeons could take care of themselves -- only one in the world, in Namasia actually, was less than A-Ranked -- and each was responsible for rivers of bloodshed, with the notable exception of Herohall.

But Duni was still innocent and comparatively defenseless. Once it reached Developing, its intelligence should be comparable to a human's. And just when that happened, in the moment it became fully, undeniably sentient and self-aware... it would be destroyed.

Arguably, this was more tragic than an adult human's death, since Duni would just be starting its life; more tragic than a baby's, since it would know exactly what was happening.

And it wouldn't be called murder.

I knew dungeons didn't have a positive track record for goodness, mercy, or non-homicidal tendencies. But Herohall showed it was possible. I couldn't help feeling for Duni because... it was a lost cause regardless. Even if I could convince the Scholars it should be saved and studied, I couldn't convince anybody to directly oppose Grimmark, or rather, Hellsfell. That was a hopeless case if ever there was one.

But I'd turned away from a hopeless case before, and though it had been hopeless, I still ever regretted it. That was why this time I wanted to help Duni as much as I could, even and especially if it was doomed.

Ah, my grandmother had warned me of such perils and pitfalls of Empathy, placing others' feelings above our own interests. No wonder we were distrusted! Had other Empaths aided orcs and trolls escaping into the Underworld? Warned dwarves before the hammer of human greed fell on them? Campaigned for elven rights?

Yet what could I even do? Report Duni's anomaly so it might be destroyed early, suffer less?

...No, I could not bring myself to take such premature and irreversible action. Besides which, Grimmark might simply choose to guard Duni all the more carefully until it attained Developing.

I turned my attention back to my more immediate lost cause. Or was she? Anyway, an offhanded reference to monster sympathizers in my book gave me an idea, and I borrowed a library comm crystal to execute my tentative plan.

Then I had to wait. In the interim, my schedule was awfully packed. This included finally meeting Learned Westwick's mentor, Senior Grace, who was perhaps the oldest-looking person I had ever seen: her face seemed made of more wrinkles than skin, her body was similarly shriveled, and her eyes clouded with cataracts.

Cutting straight to the chase without any casual chat, she dexterously plucked and Scribed free a single rune from my multi-use Scroll-in-progress, after which she drilled me on the same. An hour later, I still couldn't replicate her clean excisions, which she informed me was the very first step, no, not even that.

She wasn't happy with the little free time I had available, stating I was wasting my Scholarly potential on these adventurers and tailor, and she didn't know the half of it. A few busy days later, I left behind my still-unfinished workload to follow the same river in which I'd nearly drowned, searching for the undine that'd nearly drowned me.

----------------------------------------

Feeling reckless, curious, and lonely, Nailla rose right up in greeting, instead of lurking or retreating, though she kept her distance. Her caution wasn't for me: Jeff from Helulo National Park had flown over for this visit.

Poised and erect in the river center, her gauzy dress obscuring her tail, she looked like a living water sculpture. Facing her from the shore, still shirtless and proud, he might've been her bronze-cast complement. The two took each other's measure silently before Jeff said: "Oh! What a beauty!"

But he wasn't looking at her like a man at a woman. No, his appreciation was that of an equine enthusiast beholding a gorgeous unicorn. Nailla tossed her hair and stared haughtily, but I could tell she was pleased. And just like that, they were talking. Jeff offered straight away to look into captured undines under the guise of purchasing one for the park, though he warned he might fail and couldn't do more.

"Thank you," Nailla said, contriving to look girlish and winsome rather than the lethal predator she was. "I know you'll do your best." As they talked, she drifted constantly closer, and I couldn't help noticing the change in her demeanor. She was smiling and laughing more, her eyes keenly fixed on him, and her voice was so beautiful... when suddenly a light burst forth from Jeff's chest that formed into his familiar, Primrose.

Undine and giant ape faced off for a tense moment before Nailla turned back to Jeff and said, "So you're taken. You should have said."

"My mistake," Jeff agreed easily and resumed extolling the virtues of relocation: "We can keep you fed and hopefully entertained."

"Oh, no," she said, laughing gaily, "I will not be kept."

"I understand," he said, and I could tell he sincerely admired her wildness. "But you can come and go as you please. You should know this river will freeze over in the winter."

"Perhaps it won't this year," she said coyly.

"It's too near Wilton. You shouldn't draw attention to yourself."

"You think here is dangerous to me? The ocean is a hundred times worse without my sisters."

I gasped, but Jeff seemed unsurprised. "Then why not go with him?" I demanded, losing my patience for her smiling refusals. "Or swim the waterways to where it is safer!"

"I do not want to be safe! Or comfortable, or entertained!" As she'd been easygoing with Jeff, so Nailla met my blunt frustration with her own outpouring. "Not so it will be easy to forget and move on... I will not forget my sisters!"

For a moment, instead of the undine, I saw a human girl I'd once known. Then I blinked the image and memory away. And willfully forgot again, as I'd moved on.

"You can't help anyone by endangering yourself," Jeff said. "You're lucky Rena here is so forgiving or you'd already be hunted down."

Nailla went still. "Are you threatening me?"

He gazed steadily back. "I'm warning you of the rules of the land."

"Hmph. I am no fool." The rushing water beneath her began to churn and swirl. "Look for my sisters."

"Wait!" I said impulsively. "Will you let me visit you again?"

"It's a free river," she said and dropped out of sight, leaving only ripples.

----------------------------------------

Alas, such freedom did not extend to my time. After my weeklong absence from teaching, I'd returned to find my classes more popular than ever, as though my sudden unavailability had triggered a swarm of applicants. "Well, yeah," said Marie, the receptionist who'd tested me. "When we explained you were here for quick coin and might stop any moment, everybody suddenly remembered that obscure spell they'd considered learning someday."

Indeed, I received an influx of requests for less standard spells, which was apparently my main draw: students normally had to wait for such spells to be offered as public classes or pay extra for private ones. This was wonderful for my finances, as I was pulling in five silver or more per day, but even with [Intermediate Meditation] I was also spending more time on my classes. My assistant Keith continued vanishing on the hour, and I barely even had the capacity to think of him, busy and burdened as I was.

Nailla might not care whether I visited, but I couldn't help worrying. I felt stretched in too many directions, juggling too many tasks and responsibilities. A few months ago I had only to read whatever struck my fancy. How had I changed this much, so soon, and was it truly for good?

Autumn was ending, the last month of the year fast approaching, so it seemed a fitting time for such introspection. Tomorrow I might see Duni again. Veronica had advised us to spring our request on the Gold-Rankers on duty... but I was hopeful.

Today I still had a class to teach, and I had more than enough excitement. I hoped whoever had just entered the Guildhall would leave me be in peace. Like Georgina in the library, the person triggered an emotional chain reaction, though I sensed... less shock, more fear and awe? And also resentment, envy, appreciation, disgust, interest... Though I was paying wary attention, I did not truly begin feeling alarmed until the odd comer approached my classroom door. Then it opened.

Oh, no. I suddenly remembered why I should have stayed in my library, why attention should be avoided, why neither gold nor expediency should have swayed me, but even so I could not have expected this. Standing before me was a boy wrapped in the finest of silks shimmering with magic, draped from neck to boots and particularly fingers in enchanted jewels each worth a minor fortune, his face painted over in presumably the latest fashion. In other words, he was one of the worst possible encounters, more terrifyingly fraught by far than meeting an undine:

A noble.