THE SHERIFF OF HNUT / CH. 10: LAKIINA

Oops: Historical/political update, from initial contact report

We've arrived in a very difficult part of history. Also, we're not really talking to the right people, in terms of political forces. Three generations ago, the monarch, Polithanapoli, or Queen Poli, semi-abdicated and instigated rule by parliament in an effort to curb some of the excesses and trends that she observed.

She'd seen that the nobles were so busy killing one another in feud and counter-feud that they'd lost all sense of proportion, and that some drastic revisions were needed. So she wrote a book to convince people where things were going wrong and instigated fairly sweeping reforms on the back of the wave of revulsion her book stirred up.

She then charged parliament with continuing her reforms with the aim of eventually outlawing all forms of duelling as a way of settling disputes. Then, retaining only the right to make constitutional amendments and call for new elections, stepped down.

Things worked well for a generation, but last generation the ruling part of government tried to ban duelling. They didn't really have the majority in parliament, but as putting an end to duelling had been Polithanapoli's purpose in setting up parliament in the first place a lot of those who thought it was too early to change the law abstained rather than voted against it. There were 30% for, 20% against, and 50% abstentions, but rather than thinking about what that meant, the government pushed ahead with the changes. There was widespread rebellion against the law, and the local law officers — sheriffs — were frequently attacked if they tried to enforce it. Out of this chaos, a new force arose: the princes.

The princes, high nobles who'd lost various powers under Polithanapoli's reforms, started flexing their muscles and wielding their clubs. They imposed something akin to martial law, declared that Polithanapoli had been overly influenced by a certain friend of hers, and that the government had passed an illegal law, invalidating itself. A 'companion volume' to Polithanapoli's book was published, which basically argued that the horror story she had predicted wasn't so bad, and a few deaths were better than the chaos of lawlessness, and that anyway, to uphold any form of justice there needed to be a monopoly of power in a few hands. Having concentrated power in that way it was illogical to limit their powers, and it was entirely the responsibility of the rulers to choose if they used their powers to bring about justice or control of the populace, but the wise ruler would ensure that both happened. This brought about the rule of princes we have today, basically a form of warlordism. Parliament still exists, but the princes only acknowledge its authority if they want to.

"Not knowing much of this, and by asking 'who can help us talk to the person commanding all these soldiers?' we gained permission from a couple of warlords to be here, but entirely bypassed parliament, who we should have taken our request to, if we'd known to look for the formal government. We've thus weakened that institution in the eyes of the populace even further, and really sown confusion amongst the godly. A brave young female, granddaughter to Keldithanapoli's friend, took it on herself to explain this to us.

To do this, she came at night, bringing with her another thought-hearer, named Saleth, to act as her interpreter (also with yellow feathers, except she had dyed hers orange - is this yellow feathers thing a pattern?). She explained that the interpreter we'd been using had a bad reputation.

Mags checked for thought-stealers, and sure enough, our old interpreter was one, whereas the two people who'd come visiting were true believers.

There aren't many true believers who are thought-hearers, we are told, because 'the marriage is illegal' and 'often they are killed soon after birth.' Our new friend was born in a remote village and escaped, partly because she was small for her age; something about famine when she was young.

There is so much we don't understand. But Anisilakiina — whose feathers were red — said it would be very dangerous for either of them to meet either Rina, our thought-stealing interpreter, or anyone else from the courts of the princes. We've arranged to have another meeting with her, in an isolated village, and maybe some others. Mags also explained about the gift meaning that she can contact Saleth from anywhere.

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KELDI'S STUDY, COLLEGE OF WIZARDRY. BROTHERDAY, 1ST OF WINTER

“Ah, Sithinilakiina, come in. Did you have a good break in Hnut?”

“I did, thank you. Not just seeing Dirak safely in love, though that was really nice to see. I think he thought that we might get married one day, but the idea never appealed to me, so I'm glad he's got it firmly out of his skull if it was ever there.”

“And?”

“And the kids' Longnight play yesterday was sweet, and the village meeting afterwards about the school eventually chose version three with some tweaks, and went on until almost dawn but people said it didn't matter because of Yalinth's snow, which is what everyone was calling it. She asked me to tell Ranth that God gave her lots and lots of snow, far more than she asked for because God is generous, and she made a snowman who she called SnowRanth and then because SnowRanth wouldn't turn round she zapped him with snowballs. So she hopes that real Ranth does turn round to God, because SnowRanth didn't look so good after he'd been zapped, even though she tried to put him back together.”

“So getting zapped isn't necessarily fatal?”

“Apparently not.”

“I wonder where she picked that word up from. It doesn't seem like a word anyone would use to a six year old.”

“No. I watched her 'zapping' SnowRanth, actually. She didn't throw the snowball properly, not like she did at me. It reminded me more like she was miming shooting with a over-long pea-shooter, and she said 'Zap, you're not dangerous any more, shark'”

“Dangerous shark?” Keldi said.

“Yes. They're a sort of big fish aren't they? Where on the planet did she learn about them?”

“Contact. Someone has been in contact with her. That's the only thought I've got.”

“You think an alien would get in contact with her and tell her about zapping sharks?”

“'Only the dangerous ones.' It's one of the laws of the sea-humans. Bedtime stories for the young warrior female.”

“Warrior female?”

“The sea-human females are warriors. They were fast, not as fast as a Zerker, but fast, and strong. Very strong, their home-planet's gravity is three times ours. They could probably leap a single-story house if they tried. We don't tell all of this to students, we like to emphasize that they were friendly, love peace, and on a mission from God, and so on, but they weren't confused by what was going on in a duel, just sad that we had the same problem they'd left behind. And of course they wouldn't know what progress we'd made in the last century. So what better than a war-like story for a war-like daughter of a noble family?”

“Inherent bellicosity. I've heard of it.”

“But not lived it.”

“As Mummy said, 'we don't do that.'”

“No. Well done to your mummy, daughter of an unwarlike noble family.”

“I thought...”

“Oh, Sithinilakiina, I've really failed with you. I'm sorry. I'm Keldithanapoli, and I don't know if that means anything at all to you.”

“Mummy said, 'Keldithanapoli is a teacher at the school, no one understands us better than her.' And then she said that if someone was nasty to me, if they called me a coward or anything like that, I should go to you, and tell you my name, and you would help me. But Dirak was around, acting like my big brother, and no one picked a fight with me at all. I thought I was part Zerker, then this happened, and I thought, oh yes, mummy was noble, I'm part noble too. But she'd died long before that.”

“Sithinilakiina, you are not part noble, You are full noble, but of a different nobility, and I need to write a letter to parliament about you.”

“You do? Why?”

“I assume you're planning to marry someone, sometime?”

“Urm, yes.”

“I'm going to say, 'Dear parliament, know this, treasure this, remember this. The great tragedy at Reqiq was not total. I have met Sithinilakiina, royal daughter of royal Ranthilakiina of the house of Zalakiina, whose forebears were deposed by my ancestress's house. As with all her ancestresses, Sithinilakiina was green when young and I have seen her transition to most noble red feathers as befits her peace-loving clan. Should my family line die out or be unable to find a noble husband, hers is unsullied and undamaged by the stupidity and greed of my forebears. As decreed in the laws of parliament, the right to the throne should pass to her line, unless she or one of her daughters is foolish enough to marry into nobility and so lose the green that turns to red.' Don't ever marry a red, dear, you might lose your daughter or grand-daughter the right to the throne. You're too smart to marry for muscles anyway, marry for wisdom and Godliness. That's always been your ancestress's success. Even orange is risky, but you can marry the son of a yellow, that's fine, or any other colour, but the green son of a green would be best.”

“I don't understand, aren't greens the least noble colour?”

“Let me tell you a story. There used to be two peoples, separated by the mountains, and two languages. In the language of the north, epoli meant princess, and thanapoli meant queen, and of the people of the north there were oranges and there were blues, the oranges were stronger and the blues faster and smarter, and sometimes there were yellows, if a blue male married an orange. Most of the rest of the language has gone, though people still call their daughters princess. In the language of the south, the word for queen was Lakiina, which over time became queen, And in the south, there were greens, almost exclusively greens, except that the queen turned to red. And the peoples met and the greedy oranges of the north desired the good land of the south and they knew that the greens of the south honoured red over all colours, and the oranges bred, generation by generation, becoming redder and redder, and the oranges were no longer important, they were cast out of the breeding experiment. And as well as breeding for colour they bred for strength and for aggression. And that is what the nobles were. And eventually the new-reds of the North came and caused confusion among the greens by there being so many reds, and they conquered the south, and threw your ancestress out. But they continued to breed for strength and aggression; and stupidity came with it, mostly. And then Polithanapoli realised the stupidity of the duels, and sought to reform, and she convinced people, with the help of her good friend Zalakiina, and they agreed, that if Zalakiina's daughters ever lost the green that turns to red, they had lost who they were, and the laws already said that no queen should marry a non-noble, so that stayed. And thus parliament was formed, and the two queens knew that there was no way that Zalakiina's daughter could rule this bunch of reds, but also that also she would do a better job if allowed, if she would only be respected.

Then when parliament was formed and the queen's throne was empty, the princes came and caused their chaos, and the aliens came and the chaos of the princes ended and the rule of parliament restored, and always since it has been that the heir of Polithanapoli seeks the advice of the heir of Zalakiina. The heir to the empty throne has a few rights, to remind parliament what their job is, to call for elections, to dismiss someone who has acted with no honour, or if necessary, to re-write the laws that govern parliament. If I and my daughter die, those rights become yours and your daughters' — any of your daughters who are born green and turn red, that is. In the old days the queen only had one daughter, but there is no such law for you. And I need you to get to know my daughter, because she needs awise head to listen to, just as I had your mother when I was young. I'm so sorry for your loss, I was studying wizardry, and learned that your mother had gone to live in Reqiq and married, but I never met your father.”

“You really knew my mummy?”

“Not as well as you know Saneth, but far better than you know Lenepoli.”

“And... really, I should pick myself a wise and clever and godly man whose grandmothers were both green?”

“That would be the ideal. Got any in mind?”

“I'm not sure I know many. We seem lacking in the greens and over-abundant in yellows and purples in the city, at least the last few years. I expect that's good news for the dye industry.”

“Almost certainly. It certainly makes it hard if you want to choose someone for their genetics. By the way, you'll learn a lot about having big clutches if you want them from Lenepoli, but there's something she ought to know before she's too liberal in telling people: it is not at all common for the couple to do everything right but end up without a single fertilised egg if they're from different sides of the mountain.”

“I'd... wondered why we weren't up to our necks in hatchlings in the city.”

“Well, the other reason is that if people are impatient or just enjoying married life, there's no need to dance at all. It's easier to dance in a village. Or in a mansion like this one where there's that little patio that students learn to fly in. Have you noticed that no windows overlook it and there's a lock on both sides of the door?”

“Ah! No, I hadn't. I'm a bit young to learn this aren't I?”

“Not by the look of your feathers, not by much at all. Don't feel you need to go by Dirak and Lenepoli's example. Blues mature the latest of all colours, and greens the earliest.”

“It would be so much easier if there was something I could look for in a guy.”

“Did you like the way I told my story? With the beginning at the beginning and hardly any jumping forward and backwards?”

“Yes Absolutely. I didn't need to keep reorganising bits of it in my mind.”

“Your mother always preferred things like that. It felt really odd for me to do it that way, but I thought you might like it. To keep Dirak happy I'd have started by saying I've got a story about how the reds became

red and ended up as nobles over the greens who before then had their own

nobility, a long time before Queen Poli.”

“Yuck!”

“You'll hear people saying that someone is really slow at getting to the point, or doesn't tell you why you should be listening, and so on. Listen for that, and translate it. What you should understand is that the person hates jumping around in a story as much as you do.”

“I used to get marked down in essay writing all the time for that.”

“You probably would be by me too. Sorry. Expectations. The tyranny of the oranges and blues.”

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“I've got an idea... There are a couple of green apprentices, and I've seen them always starting at the bottom of the marks list on essays. Can I set them the challenge of not doing fancy flash-backs? I'd love to see what it does to marks.”

“In history, in essay writing, or say in building a radio?”

“Well, oohh, what about getting them to write detailed instructions to a rather advanced twelve year old green how to make a radio to listen to the news?”

“Perfect! It's something they all know, or should. Go ahead and write down how you'd have liked to be asked that sort of question, and we'll make it an extra credit thing.”

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YEAR 2 APPRENTICES' TEACHING ROOM, FIRST TEACHING SESSION, SISTERDAY, 2ND OF WINTER

“OK everyone, pay attention, you may take notes, This is Sithinilakiina, or Sithini for short, and when she was a cute and fuzzy green twelve year old she joined the accelerated learning program, and like some of you she struggled to write essays that her teachers liked. Now you might see her designing stuff and building stuff. Be aware that the things she designs and builds are very useful and probably very dangerous and when she explains what they do to she needs to simplify a lot or three quarters of the other wizards don't understand.

"Don't touch her stuff! She also likes playing practical jokes on her friends, which have been know to shock, startle, and in one notable case break half the windows in the lab. Over to you, Sithini,”

“I want you to imagine that in about half an hour you will have a slightly scared, green fuzzy twelve year old apprentice coming to the labs for the very first time to build her very first radio. I want you to write down for her the steps she should take in the order she must do them, so that she can feel like a successful apprentice wizard. Participation is optional. If you do well you will get extra marks for essay writing. If you confuse her or do not make her feel she is a success, or you make her feel that you are treating her as a baby, you will not get as many points.

If your instructions could not possibly make a working radio, or will hurt her, you will need to show me you can actually remember how to build a radio or retake the course. If you want to practice that or anything else in the labs, tell me.”

“And if you can write a page by Earthday evening telling the history and/or constitutional importance of Sithini's plumage, you earn extra points in history and/or politics. If you can write that page in strict chronological order, and logical progression you get even more. The clock is ticking, questions can be asked as they occur to you, aloud.”

Two minutes later, someone asked “Does the young student know the terminology?”

“Twelve year old Sithini has never been in a laboratory before, or seen the equipment, or touched a wire, but she has read the relevant theoretical chapters of your textbook on tuned circuits.”

Several people groaned and crossed out what they'd just written. A few minutes later, Sithini looked around the room. Some of them were frantically writing notes, scribbling things down, and their the pages were a mess of arrows and insertions. Some others had made neat bullet points. One boy, who'd vanished a minute after the question had been answered, had quietly returned to the back of the room with the necessary components. Sithini noticed that he was describing them meticulously, and smiled. That was good thinking in her book.

Some of them had finished twenty minutes into the test, and Sithini nodded to Keldi and stepped out of the room. Keldi stood.

“Everyone stop writing, please, you've still got ten minutes, but your student has arrived early because of nerves. So, we'll have a little break, during which I want you, one by one, to either explain to her that you're still finishing the instruction sheet or if you're ready, give her the sheet and any verbal instructions you'd like to give her. I'll time how long you each take, and that comes off your available time, but no more than thirty seconds per person, OK? Those not talking to Sithini and who need their extra ten minutes can have a really quick drink or whatever once they've finished.

The final ten minutes re-starts in ten minutes. People with more writing to do, queue up to make your excuses first. If you're finished, then

please be patient until the others have talked to Sithini, you don't need to come back.”

Outside the class, Sithini sat down, and tried to remember being little and nervous. It was made a lot easier when a big muscular boy stuck his head out of the doorway and said “Sorry, you're early, not ready for you yet.” He ducked back through the door, said “finished,” and then bolted down the corridor in the direction of the toilets.

Sithini made a note. Semi-polite, but intimidating. The next one was a stark contrast. He came out, crouched down and said

“Hello, are you Sithini? I'm really sorry, but you need to wait a bit.

It's my fault, I'm still trying to make sure the instructions for you

aren't confusing. Is that OK?”

“That's OK.” Sithini said.

“I think I heard someone say you had a beautiful full name, could you tell

it to me?”

“Sithinilakiina.” Sithini said, in a little voice.

“That's a lovely, does your mummy's name end in lakiina too?”

“Mummy and daddy died in the landslide,” Sithini said, very sadly.

“Oh, that's horrible! I'm sorry.” Then breaking character he asked

“Really, ma'am? I'm really sorry.”

“I'd only been here a couple of weeks.”

“And they still made you take classes?” he sounded shocked.

“What else was I to do? Classes helped fill my day, there was plenty of time for crying afterwards. Questions to help you get an advantage in a history essay wouldn't have helped.”

“Urm, no. Sorry.” he stumbled back through the door, wondering if he'd blown this part of the test. The next few did OK, but the seventh was a girl beginning to grow red feathers, whose face looked stricken. “I can't do this,” she practically wept.

“What, act?”

“No, these sort of instructions, just from my head. I didn't even understand what the test was going to be until you said she'd never seen the components before. I know I'm going to fail. I can write essays, I'm due to get perfect grades, but this... I just can't do it, I can't get everything straight. I need to describe the components to someone who's not seen them? How do I do that?”

“You don't need to take part, It might be worthwhile withdrawing, if your perfect scores are really important to you. But on the other hand, to press on in something you're not good at is quite a brave act, and something you can be proud of. We can't all be good at everything.”

“I can't go back in there. I'll fail.”

“Will you be able to face yourself if you give up, though?”

“No.”

“Let's look at it from another way. Do you like your class-mates?”

“Of course, they're friends.”

“How much? Enough to fail for their sakes? To be part of the crowd of amazed onlookers as they shine? Can you do that for them?”

“To fail to help others?” she asked, confused.

“Just put yourself in their place. Every week they have to force their brains to try and arrange stuff into those parts of an essay and say everything in a different way three times rather than just laying stuff out in the proper order, and yuck, it makes me cold just thinking about the hours I tortured my brain doing that. Now they get a rare chance to shine, and half the class want to drop out because it might ruin their grades. How does that make them feel? Like the system really is stacked against them?”

“You're telling me it's better to encourage them than get perfect grades?”

“What do you think? I think that if you end up bottom of the class on this, then they won't ask you to write them instructions, but might for essays or reports, and you can point smiling ruefully at your grades in this and beg them to help you with instructions.”

“Isn't that cheating?”

“In an exam, yes. In life? In wizardry? It's just plain good sense! Show the staff how good you are at the things you are good at, and how bad you are at the things you're bad at, don't think you need to be the best at everything. Perhaps you can gain pride that way, but isn't that a sin? And friendships? Now they are valuable, and they are more easily lost and harder to win back.”

“But... there must be some advantage to doing better.”

“Well, you get asked to do more things, you find our more fun stuff, you get set harder challenges, and if you're the only one in a difficult job you don't get asked to teach so much, though some people seem to like that. But there is no pay-scale, there is no additional money for those who get the top grade.

Apprentices receive a lesser amount, but once you are a journeyman, all in wizardry receive the same, except for extra people get if they have children to support.”

“My mother expects me to be the best at everything.”

“Be the best at winning friendships then, too. Keldithanapoli will almost certainly enjoy facing her down at your side if she says that's less important than marks.”

“Keldi....Keldithanapoli?”

“Long name isn't it? Almost as many syllables as mine.”

“The Keldithanapoli?”

“Do you think anyone would willingly name a daughter that mouthful?”

“What mouthful?” Keldi asked.

“Sorry, Keldi, I've probably just let the fluffy out of the bag or something, and possibly insulted your family honour, but our student here was having a crisis of values: be brave, participate and get a poor mark and gain friends, or not take part and hurt friends by saying she won't compete if she can't beat them. I said you'd probably enjoy a nice set-to with her mother if she dared suggest that friendships were worth less than grades. Her brain seems to have got stuck in a rut on your name though.”

“See? There's a reason we don't let people like you near the students. I don't know, some people! Trying to give pep talks in the middle of a test? So considerate of one crisis they make everyone wait? Well done, Sithini. What marks would you give her out of ten? Hnah?”

“Nine. She didn't tell me not to be a coward.” Hnah said.

“Did I need to?” Sithini asked.

“No!” Keldi said, “Not unless you want to risk a duel.”

“That's illegal, Keldi, your ancestress said so.”

“Polithanapoli also spoke about innate bellicosity too.” Hnah said.

“Good job I was reminding myself don't use the 'c' word, ten times a second, then, is it?”

“Very good.” Hnah agreed.

“So why do I only get nine?”

“Wasting lesson time,” Hnah said.

“Giving the student sufficient time to reach her own decision,” Sithini replied. “Making friends among the slightly younger population of the college.”

“Making friends?” Hnah asked.

“Weren't we? And just for future reference, what do you think of moss?”

Keldi burst out laughing. “Don't you dare, Sithini!”

“Purely out of interest: or what?”

“I'll get Dirak to paint your plumage black.”

“He did that once, well, my head fluff, anyway. I promised him a black hole in his head if he spoke to me again.”

“When was that?”

“Just before he rescued Shashana. It's good to be on chatting terms again. Oh, he forgot to tell you, and I forgot to take notes to remind me: Dirak says Shashana's naturally yellow, and has a little brother and a male cousin on her mother's side you might want to talk to on different subjects.”

“I just need to take the whole family up for a week, don't I?”

“Maybe.”

“Shouldn't we be getting on?” Hnah asked.

“You've not told me to wait yet.”

“Oh, hello, Sithini, I'm afraid I've been told to write a set of instructions on how to do a radio, but really, I'm so totally useless at writing things down like that. I get things all in a muddle and have to re-write it over and over again. Would you mind ever so much if rather than writing it down I sat beside you and told you what you ought to do next?”

“Thank you, that sounds nice. What's your name?” Sithini said in a little voice.

“I'm Hnahyalinth, but everyone calls me Hnah.”

“I know a little girl called Yalinth, is she a relative?”

“Where does she live?”

“A village in the Utt valley called Hnut.”

“Her great-grandmother's called Yanepoli, and as you'd expect all her daughters' names start Ya,” Keldi supplied.

Hnah nodded, “That's my grandmother's name. We're an estranged branch, I guess you'd say. Mum likes city life, married a politician.”

“Family arguments are hard, but can be mended if there's some flexibility, some grasping of opportunities,” Keldi said. “To think on: there will be a second school starting there soon.”

“I've never been there.”

“You are a believer, you are an apprentice. We will be asking believing apprentices and journeymen to consider helping practically, doing such exciting things as measuring and moving things and helping deliveries to end up in the right place, and maybe even digging, but radios and tweakingforcefields too. I am prepared to ask lady Yanepoli of Hnut if she would consider hosting an apprentice girl of good noble blood with whom she has no blood-feud. She will ask about your faith, which I will report on, and she will agree, if nothing else because it's me who's asking, and then she'll ask your name, and I'll tell her it is Hnahyalinth, grand-daughter of Yanepoli of Hnut, which is why I asked personally, but I do not know nor want to enquire why her grand-daughter needed me to find a host family for her.”

“And she'll be very cross with you.”

“I don't think so. But I will ensure she is sitting when I speak your name. Oh, by the way, your cousin Yalinth is firm in her faith and turned six yesterday, and going to have yellow plumage. The corridor really isn't

the place to talk more, and your classmates are waiting, but I just thought I'd better drop that little bit of family news.”

“Yellow? And winterborn?”

“Come to my study later.” Keldi said.

“I will. Thank you, thank you both.”

Stepping into the classroom Keldi said, “Sorry about that little delay, Sithini firmly feels that a something put off for later is a something that might get forgotten. With very good reason, given the speed her brain works at, and how many things she thinks about at once so she's not bored. So, who was next in line?”

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FINAL PERIOD, SISTERDAY.

There was baited breath among the students as Keldi handed the results out.

Hnah got hers first, and gave a whoop of joy. “YES! Listen to this, guys!

'Never get this student to write instructions for real. Someone will kill themselves, I'm just not sure if it will be her or whoever tries to follow them. Minus ten out of ten for causing death by poor instructions, five bonus marks for courage, willingness to take part and five bonus marks for verbal instructions which just about got there in the end.'”

“Why are you so happy?” someone asked, “You've just got the first zero of your life. “.

“I'm not negative and I don't need to retake the radio course!” Hnah said.

“Why death by instructions?” another colleague asked.

“Sithini tried to follow my instructions. I'd told her which draws to take the bits from but got the room turned around in my head. Instead of the earphone case she

ended up with a bottle that said concentrated acid and for wire she ended up with a hundred-metre length of magnesium wire.”

“Coil wire and insert into earphone case.” Sithini said from behind them, “Place metal diaphragm on top — for that we actually ended up with a piece of metal that sealed quite well — screw down lid. 'Is it supposed to make that noise, miss?'

'What, you actually did it? Duck!' Kaboom. It was really impressive, for

diluted acid and only this much wire.” Sithini gestured with her fingers.

“I'm not totally suicidal, honest, I'd switched the acids before calling Hnah in. Plus I had a forcefield set up to protect us from debris. But you should have heard the abject terror at the thought I'd really followed her instructions. It was wonderful. We didn't break any windows either, which is always a bonus.”

“Would anyone else like to comment on their marks?” Keldi asked.

“I'd like to say thank you for this test.” said one green girl, “I can't believe I got a ten, I've never had more than five in an essay.”

“Well done,” Sithini said, “I never got better than a four.”

“But... that's a failing mark isn't it?”

“It is in school, yes.” Keldi said. “But no one's going to ask you to leave just because you can't write essays.”

“Or write step-by-step instructions, fortunately.” Hnah said.

“Or pass philosophy exams.” Sithini added.

“Just for protecting people on the street?” someone asked.

“Not any more. You'll hear more about that incident in your next philosophy class, which will be given by our new chair of the council, wizardess Thuna. Journeyman Ranth has asked that he be excused philosophy teaching to concentrate on liaising with an architect from the guild of stonemasons the regarding construction for the new school. Speaking of which, anyone who is a believer and would like the opportunity to escape the winter smoke of the city for some fresh snowy air and village life should know there's going to be an opportunity to volunteer coming up soonish. Non believers are not excluded, but if you're not going to find church, the midweek study and church choir practice as highlights of your social calendar, then it'd make more sense not to be resident there.”

“Are the girls pretty?” someone asked.

“Which ones?” Keldi asked, “The ones still at school, your fellow apprentices, or the ones who are someone's girlfriend, betrothed or wife?”

“And I'll warn any girls that yes there are plenty of unattached, handsome and one might even say desperately lonely males up there,”Sithini said, “but quite a few of them have suffered some mental impairment due, we think, from breathing in copper compounds from smoke during the harvesting of certain high fields.”

“How desperate?” a girl with half-grown blue plumage asked.

“I was there for Earthday night, all day Motherday, had fun singing in the church choir, all day Longnight and stayed for the village meeting which ended at dawn. Had a few hours sleep and was just getting ready to leave when someone asked me if so and so had spoken to me yet, and if he hadn't or the answer had been no then could he register his interest please, assuming I was coming back, I was coming back wasn't I? Then his friend turned up, looking annoyed and asked if I'd consider his interest in getting to know me better, and then a third one ran up and asked what I'd thought of his designs and I said they were very interesting and I almost had a brawl on my hands until I said right now I was far more interested in a snowball fight before I went back to the boring city and started pelting them with snowballs. That turned out to be a mistake because one of them had got a bit angry during the row and obviously had Zerker genetics, and I got him right on the back of his neck. You do not want to try a snowball fight against an angry Zerker. I got covered head to toe in snow and only avoided getting buried by skidding across a two step-deep drift of snow that he got stuck in up to his armpits. By which time we we all laughing and I said yes I was coming back, but I didn't know any of them well enough to make that kind of big decision, and I also said that my mother had raised me to love peace, violence made me sick and if any of them raised a fist against anyone over me then I'd count that as deliberately insulting my dead mother's memory, and spread the word around please.”

“And you meant it?” Hnah asked.

“Of course she did,” Keldi said. “And in case you're wondering, Ranthilakiina's green fluff turned into red plumage just like Sithini's did.”

“Green turned red” whispered one of the girls with green feathers starting to form. “I'd heard...”

“Sometimes what we hear, what we believe, is not true. I never met Ranthilakiina's husband, nor heard her daughter's name. I believed the whole family had died at Reqiq, and I only heard Sithini's full name a few days ago. I knew her, but not at all well, and had wondered why our cleverest member and a green at that would want to dye her feathers red.

"It's not known as a colour that attracts peace-loving suitors. But back to the topic of boys looking for girls, the normal ratio of boys to girls applies, dyes used to be kept for purges and are not popular now, and despite Sithini's experience, I'm told most of them stay in colour. There are a few greens, about half the population are blue, a lot of oranges, some deep reds.”