When Pyre stepped into the classroom for the first time, it was Summer. He had missed Spring entirely. During the long hours in the infirmary his prayer life had deepened. The knowledge had come to him that he was where he belonged. Upon his return to his classes his marks improved. It seemed he might have some brains after all. It was good to be back among the living, to walk and mingle and converse with his fellow apprentices. Life would be utterly perfect except for one large thing. The thing he could not escape and must be able to accomplish if he were to remain in the city. He had to pass his Transferrance exam and if he failed he prayed he died. Every time he thought of facing that fire again he broke out in a panicked sweat.

On the evening before his second attempt at Transferrance, Pyre made his way across the Common. He needed quiet, he needed peace to focus on his Transference incantation. The Dormitory was too noisy for him to study. He headed for the quiet of the Dining Hall. When he entered the Dining Hall, Jerue was seated at the head table. The older man smiled at him. "Evening Pyre. Come here to study?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Nervous about tomorrow."

Pyre could not deny this, nor could he say it. He nodded his head.

Jerue stood and came to him. He said, "Don't worry. You will do fine. You will not make the same mistake twice." Jerue rolled up his left sleeve. Burn scars covered the arm. He gave Pyre a knowing look.

"YOU?"

"Yes, me. Even I bobbled a Transferrance in my early days."

This comforted Pyre. "Thank you for telling me Sir."

Jerue placed his hand on his shoulder. "I will keep you in my prayers tonight. You will succeed tomorrow. I have no doubt. I must be getting back to my rooms. Good night Pyre." When Jerue removed his hand from Pyre's shoulder, Pyre's fear left him.

"Night Sir." Pyre watched Jerue walk away from him. The older man moved with such grace and power. He passed through the Dining Hall doors. Pyre glanced from the doors to Jerue's picture on the wall. Tonight it didn't frighten him. Instead it encouraged him. Jerue had not let his failures hold him back and neither would he. He settled himself onto a bench near the hearth. A low fire burned in it to keep out the damp. He opened his Book of Rituals. With his scarred finger he traced the letters of the Transferrance Incantation. As his finger slid across the page his mouth formed each word.

A strange hissing sound erupted from the hearth. Pyre looked up. Standing in a cloud of steam was Zog. Pyre jumped to his feet. Zog smiled. "Hello friend." Pyre could not speak. Zog laughed and came to him. For a few moments, he studied Pyre's scarred face. His eyes grew serious. "You have endured a lot."

Pyre found his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help."

This was a first. "What kind of help?"

Zog lowered his voice and said, "I need to cross over. Surely you have heard some rumor of a weakness in the wall. Studied some ritual."

"Are you crazy? No one is allowed to cross over."

"Allowed?" Zog laughed. "I'm not asking anyone's permission. You owe me this much."

Though Pyre didn't speak his question, Zog answered, "Yes, owe. You little twit. Can't you see you were just the tool Jerue used to keep me out."

This angered Pyre. He was in the city by Divine order. He said, "I was called."

Zog laughed again. "You are as delusional as I was. I thought I could redeem my family's honor. I thought one day I could attain the position of Head Councilman. How stupid of me." Zog glanced down at the Book of Rituals on the table. His voice grew hard as he asked, "Will you help me?"

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"I can't even manage to properly Transfer myself much less penetrate the Council Wall." Pyre saw Zog's eyes reading the open book. Pyre slammed it shut and said, "Even if I could, I wouldn't tell you."

Zog's eyes narrowed when he looked up at Pyre. He leaned across the table almost touching Pyre's nose with his. He said, "I should have expected as much. If Jerue could fool me, surely he could fool the likes of you."

These words stung. He was lower than Zog, always lower than Zog in Zog's estimation. Anger flared out of Pyre. "Am I so stupid?"

"Look at you. Nearly got yourself killed even with instruction in Transferrance, while I got here without the help of any holy man. And I will get out of this damned realm with or without your help."

"What about your family? Who will care for Fand?"

"Ah, Fand still haunting you?"

Pyre did not rise to the taunt. He remained very still as he studied his old friend. So, this was who the noble Zog had become.

A strange bitter smile twisted Zog's features. Softly he asked, "Has your mother not written to you of Fand's betrothal?"

"To who?"

Bitterly Zog said, "Gregor Zwart."

Gregor Zwart! How could pig-eyed Gregor Zwart be her true love?

Zog placed his hand on Pyre's shoulder. "You should go to her. She'd have you now, no doubt."

"Would she? She didn't want me whole, do you honestly think she would want me scarred?"

"She's not the same. She's changed."

Pyre studied his friend. "We all have."

Anger flashed in Zog's eyes. "Doesn't it bother you that that pig's hands will be on her? That pig will plant his seed in her?"

Pyre felt sick. "Doesn't it bother you?"

"Of course it does, but I have not been able to get her to break the betrothal. A date has been set. Upon Fand's insistence the wedding will take place at the Ruhe Inn in three weeks."

What? Pyre had planned to take her there. He knew she longed to see the country where her mother had been raised. It was something he dreamed of sharing with her...and she was going to share it with Gregor Zwart! This was wrong, so very wrong! With a measured voice he said, "You must stop it."

"Don't you think I have tried? She won't listen. She thinks Gregor is her destiny. Destiny, bah, there is no such thing, there are only choices, and we must each make our own." Zog let go of Pyre's shoulder. "Think about what I said. Its still not too late." He returned to the fireplace, mumbled a phrase and tossed a small vial of liquid into the fire. The vial broke, a tiny puff of steam enveloped Zog, he vanished and the fire put itself out.

Where had Zog learned this bootleg magic? Pyre stared at the now dead fire. What was he going to do? He had zero faith in his ability to sway Fand's heart or her mind. If only the Keeper would intervene. He glanced at the ceiling and murmured, "Please show me what to do. Please save her from herself." When he looked back down, he noticed his Book of Rituals had disappeared. Damn Zog, he had added theft to his list of sins.

*

Pyre stood before the flames of the Transferrance fire. He could not breathe. Last night he had not slept. His mind had chased from one scenario to another as he tried to figure out how to save Fand from a bad marriage. The dawn had come slowly. At breakfast his food choked him. Now, his stomach felt raw and his mind was a blank. He could not do this thing. It would be best if he went home. His mother would never forgive him if he got himself killed and he would be of no use to Fand. His fellow Apprentices were assembled around him. Their anxiety or anticipation flickered in their eyes. Which ever way it went, they expected a show. Pyre closed his eyes and began to pray, "Have mercy upon me. Have mercy, I can not think."

He heard the holy water pour onto the fire and sizzle. The words came to his lips and he said them. He felt his body slip into the dark void. And then in spite of his fear he felt, the Keeper's presence. It was as if he were caught up and delivered to the other side. When he opened his eyes he was standing in the Inner Sanctum. The shrouded walls had been laid bare. He was alone. The place smelled of incense. Shafts of light pushed through the skylight. Before him, on the walls was the history of the Council in vivid detail. His eyes moved from panel to panel until they locked on the portrait of a man. The man looked exactly like Zog. In his hands was Jerim's relic. Pyre read the word Beidenueng on its circular surface. At the man's side was a pregnant girl. The girl looked like Fand. What? Whose child did she carry? And the man, who was the man? In an instant Pyre knew, this was Petran Schon, Zog's uncle. The next image was of Petran being executed. Zog might come to such a fate if he did not stop his dabbling in the supernatural.

Outside the heavy doors, Pyre heard footsteps. The curtains shot around the room covering the mural. Jerue, Appoccca and his fellow apprentices entered. Jerue said, "I see you were successful. I prayed you would be. Never underestimate the power of prayer." He began to applaud and the others did too.

Embarrassed, Pyre said, "Thank you."

Jerue smiled at him. It was almost a smile of tenderness. "Now that Pyre has completed his first unassisted Transferrance, the class will proceed with languages. Off with you." He strode out of the Inner Sanctum. The others Apprentices followed behind him.

Unsure of his legs, Pyre did not move because he shaking. Appocca remained with him. He said, "I have something for you." He pulled a copy of The Book of Rituals from his robe and handed it to Pyre.

"What? How?"

"I know about your visitor last night. There is no need for you to be punished because your friend is a thief."

"Thank you Sir."

"Your welcome. Now go along. You don't want to be late."