The cool evening wind blew in from the endless desert, and the silks billowed between the tall pillars of the palace. She stepped quietly toward the wide basin, and waited as the servants undressed her. Dipping a toe into the water, she found that it was warm and fragrant, and slowly she lowered herself into the large stone bath.

The servants followed her into the bath, which triggered a faint self-consciousness in the back of her mind at the impropriety, but she found herself raising her arms towards them to allow them to scrub her clean of the strange markings that covered her hands and arms. One marking did not leave her skin. A spiralling, twisted mark on her shoulder. Strange. She did have a birthmark like that, but it wasn’t on her shoulder. This was a dream.

Lysette sat bolt upright in her bed, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Another strange dream. At least it wasn’t one of the scary ones, but as a Thracian she did feel embarrassed to have dreamt about other people taking off her clothes. It was strange though, her birthmark being in the wrong place. Well, dreams aren’t supposed to make sense, she thought to herself, and snuggled back down under her blankets. It was almost time for breakfast but she didn’t quite feel like she could face the day yet.

It was the first day of the fair celebrations, and Lysette had begun to dread her attendance to the event. When she had told Nora that she would be going, her friend’s face had dropped.

“Oh? But what were you going to wear? You surely can’t be going in that old thing?” Nora had said, with a pained look at Lysette’s skirt, which was much loved and had been carefully mended and patched in more than one place.

“No, no… I’ve got another skirt for when I go to the Temple. I’ll be wearing that.” Lysette groaned as she remembered the look of disbelief of her friend’s face.

“You can’t wear that! It’s terribly ugly! You’ll be a laughing stock!” Then, an idea seemed to have dawned on her, and she had gone to her cupboard, and pulled out a full, blue wool skirt, with a ruffle around the hem and a panel of pretty floral embroidery on the front. “Here. This is the one I wore last year. You’ll wear this. It should fit you, though it might be a bit loose. Don’t worry about giving it back, blue’s not my colour. Don’t know what I was thinking. Don’t expect me to spend any time with you at the fair if you arrive looking like an urchin.”

The skirt was now draped over her chair, mocking her with its extravagance. Nora discarded something so valuable without a second thought. Lysette, on the other hand, didn’t have the luxury of being choosy over the colour or style of her clothes. Her clothes were second or third-hand, or had been gifted to her. Still, even though she felt she had been demeaned, Lysette still felt obliged to be thankful to Nora that she wouldn’t look too out of place at the fair.

Lysette groaned and rolled out of bed. Her mind was set on torturing her with the thought of her inadequacies, and laying in bed would not help to distract her from that. Looking in her small mirror, she saw that her thick dark hair had become an unruly tangle during the night. She took her brush and combs and, sitting cross-legged on her bed, tackled the process of detangling her wild locks.

She tied her hair back into its usual bun, and frowned at her reflection. She had never been a vain girl. She did like to be tidy, and well put together, even if she did only wear hand-me-down clothing that showed signs of wear and repair. She was clean, at least. But she was ugly. Her hair was so dark, and her skin was darker than anyone else’s in Ardenne. Even her eyes were a strange colour. And then there was that repulsive birthmark. She had always hated it, and covered it as best she could by wearing high-collared blouses, even though Nora told her they were old-fashioned.

It was a crooked, twisted shape, that swirled out from a central point. The skin of the mark was pinkish brown, as though she had been burned. She couldn’t even hide it well as it was quite large, and reached upwards, up the side of her neck towards her left ear.

Lysette put on her pockets and her petticoats, picked out her best blouse; crisp white linen with simple red embroidery she had worked on in the evenings, and then put on the skirt Nora had given her. It was much fuller than she was used to, and she delighted in twirling to see how the skirt streamed out around her. The decoration on the skirt was a bit too much, but it was nice to wear something so fancy for once. She decided to still tie on her apron over it, as it would be such a shame if it got ruined. She slipped into her shoes and headed into the kitchen to make a start on breakfast.

“Oh, well don’t you look lovely, Little Duck?” Granny cooed as she shuffled into the kitchen, lured by the scent of bacon. “This is nice, waking up and you’re already making breakfast! Should I get used to this?”

“I got up early, Granny. Sorry if I woke you up. I made bacon and eggs; it’ll be ready in a moment if you’d like some.”

“Are you excited for the fair today? I’ve heard they are holding a contest for who’s got the largest vegetables. If we had any marrows ready yet, I’d take one, but they’re not ripe. Pity. At least there’ll be music and good food though, hmm?” Granny said.

Lysette scooped the breakfasts onto two plates and sprinkled some mellowwort on top for the flavour. Setting one plate down in front of Granny, she said, “Well, I am looking forward to the food… and it will be good to see everyone from the village. Do you think anyone will come up from Rannell too?”

“Ohh, I’m not sure about that. I think a lot of them are still unwell with that sickness. I heard they aren’t even having their own fair this year. Hmmm, suppose it didn’t seem right, what with the deaths and all.” Granny crumpled her face for a moment in worry, then shook her head and began shovelling bacon into her mouth. “Let’s not think about that just now, though. Today is for celebrating, eh, my Duckling?”

It may have been a day for music and dancing, but she still had work to do around the house before she could join the festivities. So, Lysette wrapped herself in a shawl and tied on her hat, taking a bowl of grains with her outside to feed the hens. The sun was still young in the sky, and though the days were beginning to get shorter, there was still a spring dampness in the air.

Lysette clucked her tongue at the chickens to get their attention. This wasn’t like them; they would usually come squawking and flapping each morning when their feed was brought out. She couldn’t even see the cockerel, who would be the first to come to her usually.

“Benedict? Henrietta? Queenie?” Lysette called out to the chickens, opening the little door to the coop. “Lucy? Polly?” As she opened it up, she was met with a waft of the smell of decay. She dropped the bowl of grain and could faintly hear it clatter to the ground. Someone was screaming but she couldn’t focus on that sound. All she saw was her poor chickens. All dead. They were all dead. How could this happen? She suddenly realised that the screaming was her own, and she turned abruptly to vomit her fried breakfast into the bushes.

“Are you all right, Ducky?” Granny called out through the window. “I heard screaming. Are you hurt? Lyssie?”

“The chickens…” Lysette said weakly, wiping her mouth. “They’re all dead. Th-they must have been sick or something.”

“Oh no, really? All of them? Come inside and I’ll make you some tea. It must have been a nasty shock; you loved those hens. Come inside, we’ll sort out cleaning the coop out and bury them tomorrow. We certainly can’t eat them if they were sick.” Granny said, waving at her to come back inside.

The tea Granny had pushed into Lysette’s hands steamed invitingly, its aromatic warmth surrounding and comforting her. She couldn’t understand it. How could they have all died? Animals died, sickness happened, but all of them at once? It was unthinkable. Was this an omen? A sign of some ill-fated events to come?

“Granny, I’m afraid… For this to happen… It’s not normal. Is this a sign from Diole? Are we being punished for something?” Lysette’s eyes stung as she struggled to hold back her tears. But what good would come of crying about it? Tears wouldn’t bring back her chickens.

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“Don’t be silly, poppet. I’d bet my best hat that it has something to do with those people in Rannell who’ve gotten sick. I’ll have to visit tomorrow and ask if they’ve had problems with livestock as well. Now, you had better drink all that up, and I’ll make you some toast, seeing as how you lost your breakfast.” Granny said, giving Lysette’s shoulder a little squeeze.

“Thanks Granny. I’ll try not to worry about it today, I don’t want to ruin the fair for anyone by being sad about my silly chickens.”

“Who said you can’t be sad, hmm? You be sad about it if you need to be. Do you still want to go to the fair?” Granny asked.

“Yes, I think so… It’ll take my mind off of it, and I did get dressed up nicely after all, it’d be a shame not to go.” Lysette replied, setting down her empty cup on the kitchen table, and smoothing out her apron over her skirt.

“That you did, my dear! You look as pretty as a cornflower in that skirt, it was very nice of that Nelly to give you it to wear. She’s a nice girl.”

“Her name’s Nora, and Granny, you and I both know that cornflowers are weeds.” Lysette chuckled.

“And very useful weeds they are too! Good for constipation and cramps, fever, liver problems. Yes, I think that’s an appropriate comparison. A very pretty and useful weed you are, my Duckling!” Granny winked, and Lysette couldn’t help but giggle at her,

“Good for constipation and cramps? Thanks, I think I needed a laugh. Not sure I like being compared to a diuretic though. I hope I don’t have that effect on people.” Lysette wrinkled her nose jokingly.

At around midday, Lysette had recovered enough from her shock to venture out to the fair. She took with her a little basket of bread and cheese to share, and, linking arms with Granny, they took the winding path through the woods down to Ardenne.

_______________________________________________________________

“Can you believe it, Lathan? She’s singled you out for greatness, and she even said she thinks I’ll be important somehow, too. Me!” Ethan chattered, wide-eyed and gasping to keep up with Lathan as they walked to the stream.

“I can’t believe any of it, Eth. If I hadn’t started having these powers, I would have thought this whole thing was a dream. I can’t believe we’re going to go to the capital! It’s so far away…” Lathan said, “I bet it’s going to be dangerous. Old Corrin once told me that there are traitors all over, and they’ve started gathering armies.”

“Yes, but we’ll be alright, won’t we? We’ve got a Goddess with us. Not to mention all of her Channeler servants, and you’re magic now too!” Ethan stuck his thumbs in his belt and smiled. “That still sounds so strange to me. You’ve got magic powers. My little brother is a Channeler. Weird!”

“Oi, I’m not any weirder than you are!” Lathan stuck out his tongue, and, arriving at the stream, he stripped off his shirt and britches and jumped into the water with a huge splash. A couple of seconds later, he was joined by his skinny brother, who scooped a handful of water and threw it at his face with a laugh. “Oh, is that a challenge?” Lathan laughed, and playfully returned the splash with one of his own.

The brothers returned hours later to the camp, wet and flushed from their swim. One of the Goddess’s attendants, whose name Lathan could not place, motioned to them towards a tent.

“You both are to be taught now. Your tutor is waiting. In there.” She said, “You are late.”

“Our tutor? But we know our letters! We don’t need lessons.” Lathan said, annoyed that it seemed they were assumed to be idiots just because they were commoners.

“Nevertheless, your tutor is waiting. They will be the judge of your skill.” Dismissively, she ushered the boys through the flap of the tent, and got back to her own tasks.

The tent was filled with sumptuous furnishings and at the centre of the plush surroundings was a low table with incense burning in a dish on it. Two cushions were on the floor next to the table, and on the other side of it was a thin, white haired elderly man. He sat on a small mountain of cushions and was so still that Lathan would have almost thought that the man had dropped dead, if it wasn’t for the occasional twitch of his long white moustache when he exhaled.

The brothers exchanged confused looks for a moment. Were they supposed to sit at the table? Should they wake the man up? Maybe they should come back later when the man was well rested? A questioning look from Ethan, who only shrugged in return.

“Are you just going to stand there or can we begin the lesson?” The old man said, and Ethan almost took a step backwards in surprise.

“Ah! Um. Sorry. We thought you were sleeping and we weren’t sure…” Lathan trailed off. Something about the old man unnerved him, possibly the fact that he kept his eyes closed while addressing them. He took a seat on one of the cushions by the table, and Ethan joined him, taking the cushion to his left.

“I was not… Sleeping.” The withered old man spoke. The boys waited patiently for him to elaborate, and looked at each other in confusion. Several minutes later, he continued, “I was meditating.”

The strange old man’s moustache waved as he took a few long breaths, and then slowly blinked his crinkly eyes open. They were almost white with cataracts. Lathan thought the man was surely blind.

“My granddaughter has asked me to tutor you. She doesn’t ask much of me, due to my age…” A few long moments passed, “But perhaps due to my age and wisdom, she chose me for this.”

“Your granddaughter?” Ethan asked, and the boys waited a few more long minutes before they received their answer. The tent slowly filled with the smoke from the incense, and as the boys breathed it in, the aroma surrounded them like a comforting blanket.

“Her Radiance, Enalla the Gentle. She’s my granddaughter.” Another pause, and Lathan was about to ask a question, when the old man continued, “She was always my favourite, but don’t tell my other grandchildren that. They are already envious enough of her for her Ascension.”

Lathan shifted his position on the pillow to be more comfortable, and rubbed his nose, which was becoming itchy from the smoke.

“My name is Nikomedes. Among this travelling party I am the most powerful Mystic here… Other than my granddaughter, of course.” He continued, “You are Lathan, and Ethan, the young Channelers that will be joining us on our journey back to Paliathese, yes? I will be teaching you all of the things it is expected that you should know before we arrive.”

Ethan said, “Forgive me for correcting you Sir, but I’m not a Channeler, just Lathan. Um. But I would be honoured to learn anything you teach us.”

“Yes, yes.” The ancient Mystic waved his hands dismissively, “First, I should teach you a little about the correct conducts and comportments, for they are central to life in the Paliathese. You will get nowhere if you are seen as brash and low class.”

Lathan frowned at the suggestion that they might have bad manners, but remained silent, and after another long pause, Nikomedes cleared his throat and continued, “Once you have learned enough of the correct postures and behaviours, I will teach you of the Power.” The old man closed his eyes again for a full minute and Lathan’s mind began to wander.

“You will, of course, be learning from Master Dremos how to use your Channeler Power. That I cannot teach you. But I will teach you what is known of how and why it works in the first place.” He coughed again, and wiped his mouth with a square of white cloth. “Then, when you’ve got the general idea with that, we will begin on History and Geography. Hopefully by then we will be getting close to the city. Once we arrive you will want to visit the Great Library, and read up on subjects of particular interest to you.”

Nikomedes clapped his long thin hands together, and a servant entered the tent with her eyes lowered. “Yes, Great One?”

“You will be my eyes today, my dear. We will be acting out various situations, and I need to know that not only the tone of voice used and words spoken are correct, but also the body language and all of that. Don’t be afraid to be brutal, we must correct any mistakes. Watch them like a hawk.” The elderly Mystic said, “Come, sit beside me.”

“Of course, Great One.” The servant said, and knelt on the ground beside the ancient man, raising her head to watch the two boys.

“Won’t she be uncomfortable like that? Can’t she have a pillow?” Lathan said. Nikomedes sighed, and shook his head, and the servant’s eyes widened.

“One of the things you will need to learn is that there is a hierarchy in Paliathese that must be abided by everyone. Some people are considered much more important than others. You are the guests of a Goddess. I am a relative of a Goddess. So you see, we have a measure of importance. This is a servant.” He gestured to the servant, “She is, I am sure, a lovely girl. But important, she is not. She knows her place in this world. She sits on the ground, and she is happy to be allowed to sit in our presence and be useful to us.”

“Well, I still don’t think it’s fair that she is uncomfortable, and I don’t think I’m any more important than she is. Can I give her my cushion?” Lathan said, frowning.

“This servant thanks the young Channeler, but the ground is very comfortable to her. It will be her pleasure to kneel here.” The servant spoke, not looking Lathan or Ethan in the eye directly.

“You see? She is quite happy where she is. When you are in Paliathese, you will see that there are great differences between the amount of power and importance people have. It is crucial that you know your own place, and do not attempt to put yourself above or below where you belong.” Nikomedes motioned to the servant to refill the incense dish, “If you were to get this wrong, you could embarrass Her Radiance. So you see, this is imperative. Let us begin.”