Three Maids Moving

Time spun quickly after the announcement, disjointed and full of bright sounds and noises. After the announcement, Derush had the servants bring out the best Nipa wines, even better than the sea grape one they’d served with the meal. Conversation picked up again, only burnished with joy and celebration rather than anticipation now. Terr and Minoki spoke to her, but for the life of her, Morgana couldn’t bring herself to remember what they said. Or, even what she said in response, for she knew she must have responded adequately to avoid Lady Kamora’s wrath.

Regardless, seemingly in an instant, Morgana found herself being led into her father’s study. Derush and Lord Namino walked ahead, while Minoki strode smoothly by her side.

Unlike the rest of the house, Derush’s study contained walls of dark brown wood, dyed intentionally dark by the application of sepia, the ink from cuttlefish. The far wall held a myriad of glass windows, woven into the branches of the mangrove tree to create a glimmering mosaic of glass and wood. Meanwhile, bookshelves covered the walls, filled with books, scrolls, carefully organized documents, and even a few souvenirs from different areas of the world. Morgana’s personal favorite had always been the painted clay model of a lotus from Bimini, the Greater Lotus Cove.

As she stepped further into the study, she didn’t spare even a glance for any of the usual nick-knacks.

On this night she had no time for curiosity.

Instead, she found her eyes glued to the golden-scripted contract already laid out on the sepia-dyed desk. Written on parchment, the golden letters glittered ominously from where they scrawled across the page.

“This contract states that Morgana and Minoki will be engaged for a two year period before their wedding, allowing Morgana to come of age at eighteen. During that time, Morgana is not to entertain any other courtships nor participate in any romantic or questionable activities with other elves. As part of the dowry, the Trishka Trading Company will alot Elni Kora an ownership of thirty percent of the Trishka Trading Company. For a bride price, Elni Kora will introduce the Trishka Trading Company to Noble clients and endorse Triska Trading Company’s products to the Noble peerage.” Morgana sucked in a breath. Thirty percent? That amounted to a huge percentage of ownership. Derush himself only held sixty percent to give away in the first place.

He was trading away their family’s majority share just for a chance at gaining some noble clients! No wonder he hadn’t looked entirely triumphant earlier, he’d done something that would have Grandmother Kamora harking on him for years!

“Now, all that’s left to handle for the engagement is the actual signing of the contract. The contract needs a signature from both of you with a heartpulse imprint. Then, your engagement will be bound by our families’ Heartlotus, a bond unbreakable to all but the Greater Lotus.” The warmth in Lord Namino’s tone barely touched the icy dread weighing in Morgana’s stomach. A HeartBond was a contract or promise enforced by a family’s heart tree. It created a physical tether to the object of the promise, be it a person, place, or item. Left undone, a HeartBound would pull relentlessly on the elf, binding him or her to the promise they made until they either lost their mind or fulfilled the binding.

Once the contract held two signatures, Morgana’s life would be over. There would be nothing left for her.

“Now, I’ve already prepared the Rueth Ink. It’s time to make this official.” Lord Namino stepped to the side, raising a golden quill for one of them to take. The quill glittered with an inner light and the tip of the feather dissolved into motes of light as Namino held it out.

Thankfully, Morgana didn’t have to step forward. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to, to be honest.

Minoki stepped forward. His broad back filled Morgana’s vision as he bent over the desk to sign the contract. Light flared briefly from in front of him, casting odd shadows around the room.

Then it was over.

Minoki stepped back.

He rubbed his right wrist as he turned and smiled brightly at her. Morgana spotted a streak of reddened flesh under his fingers.

It was her turn.

She swallowed, smiling nervously as stepped forward. She picked up the quill from where it had been left on the desk. It felt light in her hand. Somehow, she had thought it would be heavier. The contract before her blurred before her eyes, but she could still make out the line next to Minoki’s signature that waited for her name.

She took a deep breath. Reaching inside, Morgana tugged at the golden light spooled in her core, pulling at it, nudging it, fluttering about it as it grew from a flicker to a steady flame.

The Rueth Ink Quill lit up in her hand, a steady strand of golden light unspooling from the tip of the feather. The strand twirled around her wrist. She placed the quill to the parchment.

It burned. The loop of gold drew tight around her wrist, digging into her skin in a ring of painful heat. Morgana’s eyes watered but she grit her teeth.

She didn’t have a choice. It had never been her choice.

Bearing the pain, Morgana carefully scratched out her name in cursive. Once the pen lifted from the page, the entire document lit up in bright light.

She squeezed her eyes shut until it faded, stepping back shakily. The pain ebbed from her wrist. Looking down, she stared at the dark brown vine wrapped around her wrist. Running her thumb over it, she couldn’t feel a difference between the marked skin and her normal pale skin. It still burned weakly at her touch though.

A hand settled on her shoulder. Looking up, Morgana met Minoki’s green eyes. Even now, their depths proved unfathomable to her.

“I’m looking forward to getting to know you better. I know this is a bit sudden, but I promise I’ll be a good husband. And I’ll prove it by being an excellent fiance.” Minoki said. “I’ll be in town a few more days before I’m called back to the capital, so would you perhaps care to partake in dinner with me one night? I’m well acquainted with a wonderful restaurant in the upper cove. It boasts a gorgeous view of the water market, especially in the evening.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Derush answered for Morgana. His eyes darted over at her nervously, and Morgana wondered what sore of expression she was making that he thought it best she not speak. “You two can see each other as much as possible until you return to Bimini. And then you can write letters to one another. It’ll be an excellent chance to become better acquainted.”

Well, her expression probably wasn’t overt, given Lord Namino hadn’t taken offense. Derush just had experience with her opening her mouth in front of important guests. Still... she smoothed her face into a smile.

“I’d be delighted to.” Morgana demurred. At this point, any misconduct would only worsen her position. The Heartbond was secure, it didn’t matter how much either of them actually wanted to marry each other by the end of the engagement period.

Unless the imperial family intervened, they were stuck with one another.

**~*~**

After a few more minutes of pleasantries, Morgana was released to return to her chambers. Walking the treeborne hallways back, it felt as if ages had passed since she had traversed them in the other direction this afternoon.

So much had happened tonight. It still didn’t feel real.

Yet, the ache around her right wrist told her that this was very real. Morgana Trishka was engaged.

Engaged.

To a man she’d only known for a few hours.

A Noble from a Noble family. Who traveled and conducted trade deals. Who’d been to Sandcastle, Bimini, and so many other places.

Who was a noble and as such used Greater Magycs. Who lived in a noble manor of a treehome, with a massively powerful HeartLotus, and more riches and power than anyone living in Laitiai Cove.

She shook her head, causing the trinkets adorning her temple to jingle loudly in the corridor. She needed time to think about this. Rattling it around in her brain only served to make her light headed.

“Lady Morgana,” An elveen’s voice pulled Morgana out of her own head. “Your presence has been requested by Lady Kamora. Please allow me to show you to her parlor.” Looking up, Morgana spotted one of Kamora’s prima maids. The aged elveen’s silver-spotted hair marked her as one of Lady Kamora’s oldest and most capable maids. The elveen had likely been serving Grandmother Kamora since Kamora was Morgana’s current age.

“Lady Kamora wants to see me?” Morgana echoed. Reflexive dread peters back into Morgana’s shocked psyche. Had she done something wrong at the dinner? She’d been on her almost-best behavior!

“Yes, she’s asked you to meet her in her parlor. Will you follow me please?” The maid asked. Irritation had crept into her voice, though her placid face gave nothing away.

Morgana nodded. Tutting, the maid turned and led Morgana down a familiar hallway. Morgana trotted after her. For a few halls, Morgana didn’t pay much attention to where they were going. She’d been to Lady Kamora’s rooms dozens of times before and had certainly walked by them often enough to feel at ease traversing the Hometree’s halls.

It wasn’t until she found herself going down a cramped interior staircase that she realized the maid wasn’t leading her to Kamora’s parlor as she’d said.

“I thought we were going to Lady Kamora’s parlor?” Morgana asked.

“And now so will anyone who was listening.” The maid answered. “I’m taking you to Lady Kamora, but she’s had a different venue set up for your arrival. This way please,” Stopping at the bottom of the long flight of stairs, the maid opened a small servant’s door partially hidden behind a decorative wall hanging. Swallowing, Morgana stepped through.

On the other side, a tiny, hidden inlet met her eyes. Hidden by virtue of a winding path through both roots and an abscess into the Hometree’s trunk, this tiny harbor held three small skiffs in its darkened confines. Glow bug lanterns provided a tiny bit of light to illuminate the form of Lady Kamora waiting by the water’s edge. Above her, the trunk of the Hometree curled in on itself, keeping the lantern’s light from being visible to anyone on the upper floors.

She blinked in surprise. She hadn’t been aware this was here. From the way the abscess curled into the trunk of the hometree, the little inlet would be invisible to the outside world. It certainly wasn’t very visible hidden behind a hidden servant’s door on the inside.

“Well, are you just going to stand there like a gaping cod or are you going to come greet your grandmother?” Lady Kamora’s sharp voice drew Morgana’s attention back to the present. She walked forward slowly and stopped a little ways away from the edge of the water. She had no idea why her grandmother wanted to meet with her here, but she wasn’t stupid. ‘An inlet with boats would likely soon be an inlet with use’ was a common Mirkwater saying for a reason.

“Good eve, Grandmother,” Morgana said as she dipped down into a curtsy and formed synshi with her hands.

“Good evening, Morgana,” Kamora returned her greeting. “Now, come here. We have much to do and little time to do it in.” Morgana swallowed nervously, but stepped forward regardless. Lady Kamora probably wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, if only because that would be hurting a potentially useful family member. She’d already made sure Morgana had food, clothing, and education for all of her life; it would be a waste to throw it all away now.

“You won’t be marrying that Elni Kora boy.” Kamora snapped. Once Morgana came in range, the aged elveen snatched her arms and positioned them straight out, looking over her grandchild with a considering gaze. “I refuse to abide by such idiocy. Half our shares for a few namedrops and a second son? My fool son has done it this time! I knew letting the nursemaid raise him for so long was a mistake. That elveen was always too soft!” Finishing whatever she was looking for, Kamora nodded.

“Strip,” She commanded.

“P-pardon?” Morgana asked, shocked.

“I said strip, what are you? Deaf as well as daft now?” Morgana reflexively clutched at her fine over robes. She, of course, was wearing her prima and bio-skin underneath, but to be told to strip down to those layers in a technically-outside inlet? No matter how hidden it was, she didn’t want to strip down outside!

“B-but we’re outside?”

“And? Get on with it, girl. We don’t have all night!” Lady Kamora folded her arms, delivering to Morgana a particularly irritated fold of her eyebrows.

Reeling, Morgana slowly began to disrobe. In her peripheral vision, two maids appeared with stools and a mirror. As she pulled off the outer layer of sheer silk, a third maid stepped up to carefully fold and stow in a DragonBoone jar. The jar was made using dragonfly sheddings, turning it into a bony, red tinted jar with golden Magyc inscribed around the neck of it.

Despite the jar being the size of Morgana’s fist, the outer layer slipped inside easily. Looking at the jar, Morgana thought she might have seen a tiny speck of silky-looking dust float down to the bottom.

“Now, it’s a good thing you’re so tall. It’ll make this much easier to get away with.” Kamora’s voice drew Morgana’s attention back to her present situation and away from the exorbitantly expensive DragonBoone jar.

Get away with? Just what was Grandmother Kamora planning?

“Grandmother, I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re talking about. The engagement is ironclad.” Morgana shoved her wrist forward, displaying her still-sensitive HeartBond. The brown vine looked even darker in the weak light of the glow bug lanterns. “I’m Heartbound. There’s no way for me to avoid marriage now.”

“Do you really think me so unobservant as to miss that? No, the reason we’re doing this in this way is because you’re Heartbound, child. Goodness, but it would be much easier to avoid if they’d merely gone with a formal, written contract. Those can be burned.”

“You have a way to get around the Heartbond? How?” Morgana’s heart leapt, beating a fast rhythm in her chest. Her vision narrowed down to Grandmother Kamora’s face even as the third maid tugged on her to remove another layer of silk.

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“By appealing to a higher power of course.”

“To the king?! But how? We’re only a middle class merchant family in an outer cove. He’ll never grant us an audience! And, nothing illegal has been done either. This was a mutually agreed contract!” Morgana shook her head back and forth as she spoke. Honestly, she didn’t want to be engaged, but she also didn’t want to get into a confrontation with nobles that she’d lose.

“Hmmph. Shows what you know. The king isn’t the only source of the Greater Lotus’s power. The Greater Lotus’s power is what safekeeps all of Mirkwater. If it was restrained to only those of royal blood, Mirkwater never would have been able to rise up from the Mother Water.”

Morgana blinked dumbly, confused as to what her elder was hinting at. Kamora snapped her wrinkled hands in front of her face.

“Contracts, child. Contracts. How else would the Greater Heart Lotus’s strength flow out to the Four Lesser Lotus’s and then to the Noble Lotuses? Or safekeep each cove and Hometree? Each HeartLotus bud comes from the Greater Lotus, given by contract to each Home in return for loyalty. But that’s not the power you’ll need to appeal to. It’s too diluted to break your Heartbond. No, you’ll need a more direct root of power to break the hold of our Hometree’s HeartLotus.” Kamora explained. Meanwhile, Morgana felt a tiny seed of hope take root in her. Could this be real? Was there actually a way out of marrying Minoki? Hypothetically, overwriting a HeartBond with a stronger one would work, but that required a stronger one being available to her.

“What do I need to do?” Morgana asked, straightening and pulling off her last over robe. It went quietly into the DragonBoone jar.

“You’ll need to sign a contract with the king that precludes and overwrites your contract with the Elni Kora family. As a commoner, there are very few direct contracts of service that you have access to. Of those, the number that don’t have prerequisites such as specialized skills or have a thorough background check number a paltry amount. If it’s discovered that you’re using an imperial contract to weasel out of an agreement you made, you’ll be punished to the full extent of the law.” Understanding bloomed. Suddenly, Kamora’s words didn’t just bring excitement, but also began to make sense. Of course, a Heartbond can’t be straight up broken, but it can be overwritten by a more powerful one.

“So, which contract do I need to use then? Will I be a maid in the palace or something?” She could handle that. She’d been trained in etiquette since she could walk, surely she’d be able to serve some tea?

“No. Even serving as a maid in the palace requires a full background check and more than a couple decent recommendations. No, in Mirkwater there’s only one type of contract that is open to all elves indiscriminately of background or documentation; the military service contracts.”

“The military?” That draws her up short. The contract Lady Kamora wanted her to use... was the military service contract?

“Yes, child. So long as an elf is of age, the military will accept you regardless of standing or background.”

“But elveen aren’t allowed in the military.” She objected dumbly.

“And that is why you will not be dressed like a elveen. You are already tall and without any of your mother’s curves. A haircut, new clothes, and an application of your lesser magyk will allow you to effectively slide under anyone’s notice.”

“But that’s illegal!” Highly, highly illegal. Perhaps even more illegal than using a king’s contract to get out of a HeartBond.

“And so is overwriting a HeartBond. But tell me, which is worse for you? A lifelong bond you will never be able to get out of, or a few years spent in the military running mounted drills during peacetime?” Morgana swallowed, considering. Once she was married, it would be over. She’d never be able to choose anything different, because HeartBound marriages were for forever.

One hand, Lady Kamora was right. Morgana didn’t want to get married. She didn’t want to get to know Minoki. She wanted to be left alone.

But on the other hand, overwriting a HeartBond wasn’t a small criminal offense. It was a felony. She could face serious consequences for this if she was caught. More, for impersonating an imperial soldier and falsifying her identity as an elf rather than elveen.

But only if she was caught. And Morgana excelled at not getting caught.

“How long would I be in the military?” She asked impulsively, heart truly racing now.

“The standard soldier serves for a year and a half, but you’ll need longer than that to overwrite your Heart Bond. Since the wedding is set for two years from now, you’d need to enlist in the Salamander Corp. Though mounted, they serve for three years at a time. It’d be long enough to outlast your HeartBond and being a mounted unit, they receive different marching orders than the ground soldiers after training.”

Three years. She’d have to pretend to be an elf for three years. Could she do it? As Grandmother Kamora had said, she didn’t exactly have much in the way of curves, she was unusually tall for an elveen, and her own unique lesser magyk was unusually suited for something like this.

Another question rose unbidden in her mind.

Could she afford not to do it?

The thought of marriage sent a burst of fear through her brain. She didn’t want to get married. She’d never been that close to someone before and truthfully never wanted to be. To bare herself, not just physically but emotionally to another person felt like running down Laitai’s busy water market without even a bio suit on. Morgana dreaded it. The intimacy of it was something she didn’t feel ready for at sixteen and she doubted she’d be ready for it at eighteen.

Morgana’s wish to get away from this problem made her decision process recklessly simple, as she found herself opening her mouth without further thought.

“Alright, I’ll do it.” Morgana didn’t know what all she’d be doing or how she’d be doing it, but she knew certainly wasn’t just going to back down and passively marry Minoki. The thought of turning around and heading back to her room, complacent in the choices that had been made for her after hearing Lady Kamora’s offer ran anathema to almost every fiber of her being.

“Of course you will. I’ll not have my foolish son ruining our family’s trading company for want of being accepted in noble society. Now sit down. We need to get rid of that hair.” At the end of Lady Kamora’s statement, Morgana felt the edge of a stool bump into the backs of her knees. Looking behind her, Morgana spotted the Prima maid from earlier pushing a flower-shaped stool with one hand and holding a pair of sharp shears in the other.

Morgana swallowed.

Cut her hair? Abstractly Morgana knew that this would be necessary to pass as an elf, but her hair was one of the things she had left that allowed her to feel closer to her mother. She’d always looked into the mirror and seen her mother’s roiling, silvery locks. To cut it felt... wrong.

Yet... Morgana couldn’t deny the necessity of it. To cut off the HeartBond on her wrist she would need to cut off the reminder of her mother as well.

Doubt struck at her again. What would her mother think of this? Morgana imagined her mother for a moment, before she pushed it away. If Mother were here, she wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.

Morgana sat down on the stool. Across from her, Lady Kamora had sat down on her own stool, brought for comfort due to her aging limbs.

Snip, snip! The maid started cutting away at teenelveen’s locks. Long, thick curls fluttering down to the pier below.

“Now, you’ll leave here dressed as a fishmonger from one of the other southern provinces, Mondai Cove. Their main exports are fish and Nipa products. You come from a poor family, hence trying to enlist in order to send your salary back home for your younger siblings and cousins. You’ll need to say your true age of sixteen to enlist, but they’ll likely believe you’re lying due to how thin you are. Regardless, they’ll let you enlist anyway. The staff in charge of enlistment are told to keep the numbers up, even during peacetime and most commoners make more than enough money during peacetime to consider enlisting.” Lady Kamora brought out a few sheets of parchment, skimming them and then reciting the information aloud. Meanwhile, Morgana continued to watch strips of white, well-cared for hair fall to the ground.

“Now, you’ll need a proper name to enlist, not the name your mother gave you. That said, it’ll be easier to get used to something you already respond to, so using a similar name is best. Therefore, you’ll be Morr of Mondai Cove while as an enlisted elf. No one will think to double check any of it so long as you keep your head down and do neither exceptionally well nor exceptionally poorly; I have no doubt you won’t be able to beat out the elves given their greater upper body strength and offensive magyks, but I do need to stress that you must not be expelled from the corp until after the date of your HeartBond’s end.”

“I’ll let you fill in the rest of your backstory. As I said, no one is going to head out to Mondai Cove to check if some backwater commoner is who he says he is unless you do something to make them question it. Now, let me have a look at you.” Kamora’s gnarled fingers snapped out to grip Morgana’s chin, turning her this way and that for inspection.

“It’s too clean and too long. A backwater, country bumpkin won’t have the extra coin for a professional hair cut nor would he care to keep it long. Make it rough and lopsided, like he did it himself.” Kamora ordered.

“Yes, milady,” the prima maid murmured before returning to her task. After a few moments, she finished up.

“Much better. Now you look like a backwater nobody.” Kamora’s voice warmed despite the teenelveen feeling as if she should be insulted.

Morgana turned to look into the still water beside her, blinky into its murky image. She couldn’t tell apart tiny details in her reflection, but she easily espied how one side of her white locks had been cut shorter than the other. She winced. Lady Kamora clearly hadn’t actually spent time amongst the backwater, country bumpkins. The common elves may not want to pay any coin for a haircut, but usually the friend, neighbor, or family member handling the cut would do a better job than this. Morgana knew Grandmother Kamora wasn’t trying to make her stick out like a sore thumb, but it sure felt like it with this haircut.

I’ll find time to trim it later. Morgana promised herself.

“Now, get dressed. These were purchased from our late night delivery elf, but they’ll do for you with a little hemming.” One of the other maids, this one younger with a mole under one eye, held out a set of brown robes. The scent of fish invaded Morgana’s nose, telling her that these robes had most definitely been purchased off a working fishmonger that very evening.

“If he sold you these, what did he go home in?” Morgana asked, leaning back and pinching her nose at the smell. What, had he gutted the fish before delivering them too?

“His underclothes of course. We weren’t just going to give him a nice set of clothes. People would ask questions.” And people won’t ask him why he went home half naked? Though to be fair, he could always just swim through the underwater funnels to head home. Elves who did that stripped down to their bio-suit to reduce drag. When an elf arrived at his destination, he’d quickly pull his breeches and robes back on from the mogi pouch and be on his way.

That said, if the elf had been here for a delivery, he’d likely been traveling by boat in order to carry a heavy load easily. Morgana eyed the three little skiffs in the hidden harbor. Had he left his boat here for her to take or had he just piloted his watercraft home in his underthings?

She wasn’t sure of which option she felt more bothered by, though both felt pretty ludicrous.

“Come now, dress yourself. The moon is going to leave you behind if you keep staring at the water like an ill-begotten ninny.” Lady Kamora’s voice pulled Morgana from her hypothesis and back to the stinky garments in front of her.

Well. Nothing for it. She’d already shorn her hair and there was no disguising that if she chose to back out now. Besides... she’d probably grow long used to the stench by the time she made it to Bimini.

Grimacing, Morgana reached for the set of breaches and started pulling them on. As expected, they fit a little loosely, with a few inches to spare at the waistband. One of the maids, the third one with the overly long, thin fingers swooped in to start bringing in the seam, expertly gathering it unobtrusively. The other maid pulled out a tan tunic that she forced over Morgana’s head. The cloying scent of fish almost made Morgana jerk away, but somehow she wormed her way up into the tunic. Pulling her head through the hole, Morgana breathed out in relief upon seeing only a jerkin and belt remained of the set. Thank goodness commoners wore less layers!

The maid finished sewing the pants and moved onto Morgana’s new fish-tunic, as that too had far too much give along the shoulders and sides. Despite it being of good length, Morgana just couldn’t compare in upper body mass to a male. The jerkin didn’t need any adjusting, as it was meant to be worn loosely, but they did have to put a few new holes in the belt and cut a few thumb-spans off the end of it, just so it wouldn’t hang down ridiculously.

“Perfect. Now, activate your lesser magyk so I can see what the end result is.” Nerves lit up on Morgana’s insides at Kamora’s command. Morgana’s magyk came from her mother and thus didn’t match anyone else’s lesser magyk. Thus, most of her skill at it came from relentlessly trying out new things rather than having someone teach her. There were times she figured out something new, yes, but there were also times her magyk messed up spectacularly, since Morgana had never had anyone to teach her how to use it. Even now, using it for something basic, Morgana had to use it very carefully to avoid making a mistake.

Reaching inside for her golden pool of power, Morgana gathered strings of it into her metaphorical hands. Then, she wove the strings into reality.

“Nothing to see here.” She whispered. “Just another elf going about his business like all of the other elves. He’s just a little skinny, he’ll fill out soon enough. His hair color must be from some kind of dye, you know how teenelves are these days. Sons of fishmongers especially. Who wants to be stinky all the time? Why, I bet he’s enlisting so that he can be a career soldier, get away from all that stinky fish. He’ll buff up and snag a pretty elveen if you just give him a chance. Then he’ll send money home to his poor younger siblings and cousins. It’ll be fine. He’s just another elf. Nothing to worry about. You’ve got other things to do...” And on it went. With each sentence Morgana whispered into her lesser magyk, another layer of slightly hazy air formed around her in her reflection. The haze was visible only to Morgana and only if she peered into a reflective surface. It didn’t impede her normal vision.

The same could not be said of how others perceived her, however. Before the maids’ eyes, Morgana was sure she transformed with each layered sentence she uttered. Her shoulders broadened, her face sharpened, and her waist lost what little feminine curve it had. Where before there had been a young girl with shorn hair, the maids soon saw a young fishmonger’s son, running away to enlist and earn a fortune for himself. Perhaps even to earn himself an elveen’s favor with his boyish charm.

Regardless, the more detail she added to her magyk the more ‘real’ the image became. Ideally, she’d continue adding details for a while, but her nerves and her nearly-shot mental facilities only gave her so much. After a moment of trying to find anything else to add and burning up her limited supply of mana, Morgana released her hold on the golden threads. The web twirled and caught on the edges of her figure, anchoring in place with just the tiniest, almost unnoticeable stream of power.

Given the illusion wouldn’t need to change her coloring or clothes overly much, it wouldn’t need much energy to keep going. That said, the level of detail she’d added wouldn’t stop her from being discovered if she did something really dumb, like undressing in front of people. But, it would stop the casual observer in his tracks, so it should be enough to get through the next few days.

Morgana didn’t let herself think any farther ahead than that. She’d get to Bimini, enlist, and then deal with whatever came after if it meant getting away from here.

“Good. At least your magyk is useful for once.” Compared to the Trishka’s inherited lesser magyk of deciphering an item’s age or components, Morgana’s ability to trick a visual inspection wasn’t very interesting to law-abiding merchants. It would actually be detrimental to their reputation if any of their competitors learned of it, lending strength to the argument that Morgana be kept out of the company’s workings in favor of her younger half brother.

“Now, you’ll need to take the fishmonger’s skiff from Laitai Cove out to Ronja WaterHaven. It should take you till about midday tomorrow. From there, you’ll be able to take a dog-faced snake up to Bimini. It’ll give you a smoother and faster ride than a frog, though it will make a few stops along the way.” The elderly maid approached Morgana again, this time offering up a mogi pouch that jingled with coins at the movement. Morgana took it and reflexively tied it onto her belt. The waterproof pouch left an oily residue on her fingertips, made more evident when she rubbed them together in irritation.

“That pouch will have enough to cover the fare to Bimini and the moon-turn it will take to receive your first wages. Do not lose it.”

“I won’t, Lady Grandmother,” Morgana assured her.

“You’d better not. It’s the only thing you’ll be receiving until after you’ve enlisted. Once you leave here by boat you’ll be on your own: if you’re caught or come back on your own I’ll deny all involvement in this endeavor and you’ll bear the consequences yourself. Do you understand?” Lady Kamora asked in a harried, clipped tone. Stress wrinkled her brow and Morgana considered for the first time why and how Lady Kamora was doing this.

Obviously, Kamora didn’t approve of Derush’s actions and was trying to subvert it in one of the few avenues left available to her. The fact that nearly all of the blame could be neatly sidestepped in favor of it landing on Morgana also wasn’t lost on the elveen.

Yet, for the both of them, the only way to run away from this stupid contract was such subterfuge. Regardless of which way the blame fell, were any other avenues open to Morgana?

She certainly couldn’t see any. And Kamora couldn’t either, if she were putting the reputation of the Trishka Trading Company under fire like this.

For, make no mistake, the company would take a hit to its reputation when Morgana ran away instead of obediently proceeding with the contract. Yet, Kamora was willing to take that hit in order to avoid giving away ownership of the company.

Like Morgana, she too had been pushed into a corner with her own consequences to bear. Even if Morgana succeeded in getting out of the HeartBond, Kamora would still face a hit to the Trishka’s reputation. It was simply that she judged the cost worth the end pay out of keeping company ownership.

“I understand.” Morgana nodded sharply. In the end, she’d be the only one with the possibility of coming out of this unscathed, but only if she succeeded.

“Good. Now, once you enlist, I expect you to write letters to the address I’ve written down in the mogi pouch. It’s a servant’s extended family’s house. They’ll forward the letters to me. You’ll keep me abreast of any changes or issues at least once a moonturn and you’ll do it until the end of your service in three years’ time. At that time, I’ll either send someone to pick you up or have other instructions for your return.” Kamora stated primly. However, the older elveen’s sharp tone did nothing to disguise her intentions.

For Kamora, having Morgana consistently sending her letters would only be a potential liability or a discovery waiting to happen. The only real reason the old crone would have to request this of Morgana would be to check on her well-being. Warmth gathered under Morgana’s fluttering heartbeat.

“Thank you, Grandmother.” Morgana smiled gracefully. Were it appropriate or if she thought she’d get away with it, she might have hugged her grandmother just then.

“Don’t thank me. I’m sending you to bootcamp, child. Bootcamp.” Morgana blinked at the woman’s tone. Was bootcamp really that bad?

“Yes,” Morgana confirmed hesitantly.

“When you return, I suspect you’ll be much easier to wed off.” Lady Kamora said dryly upon seeing Morgana’s confusion.

That... did not clear anything up though?