Rigel moved into Oran Tower, sleeping in a small antechamber in the library where the window opened to face the stars. An eager pupil, Rigel was prepared to learn under Flenn's tutelage. But the ancient seer had barely stirred from their divan for half a moon, rousing only occasionally to nibble on fruit and cheese and take small sips of sassafras tea. He attempted to begin his own course of study by selecting books randomly from the library shelves. But many of the volumes were so dull he couldn't pay attention and would soon discard the heavy tomes with their cracked leather bindings and spend hours gazing through Flenn's spyglass where he would count the craters on La Gune's surface with only Raki to keep him company.

Rigel would sometimes count the ancient's seer's breath or check their pulse beneath the thin, translucent skin. Once, in a flash of fear, Rigel was convinced Flenn had expired, but he was able to rouse them with a special potion he had concocted from a text on mixing herbs, all of which were readily available in the tower stock room.

"So, you're an alchemist now, eh?" Flenn Illymium uttered after Rigel managed to pour a spoonful of the potion down their throat.

Rigel was so happy to see his friend awake, he performed a solo dance around the tower, which caused the parched corners of Flenn's mouth to crack into a slanted smile.

As soon as he got Flenn's attention, Rigel explained breathlessly about his assignment, that he wanted to learn everything he could to help Oran fight the Nazeers, that he had put his libertine days behind him, that he wanted to learn magic.

"Easy, my boy," Flenn said, waving their spindly white fingers through the air misted with clouds wafting in from the open balcony. "Hand me a blank parchment and a pen. Be quick about it."

"Yes, master," Rigel said, flying across the room to retrieve the items.

"Now," said Flenn with a whistled breath. "Write this down."

"Ready, master."

"Start with the history of Ardelym beginning with volume one. You'll find it on the second shelf in the third stack. You'll know it by its oxblood binding."

"How many volumes are there?”

"Twenty," Flenn piped.

"Twenty?" Rigel repeated, crestfallen.

"When you've finished carefully reading all twenty volumes, wake me up." Flenn's chin dropped to their chest and within seconds the old mage was snoring through their beard.

Excited to receive some instruction, Rigel lit a fresh candle, perched himself atop Flenn's high stool, laid the heavy volume on the desk, and began to read all about the origins of his home planet. Luckily, the handprinted type was large and easy to read. And there were illustrations as well, beautiful hand-colored etchings. He read of Illym and the Illymium race and of the Thrades, who had been banished to the Jotur forest where they had remained for many Zars.

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"Until now," Rigel thought, turning the page to gaze at a full-colored etching of the man-beast with its scaly skin, sharp claws and teeth. He had heard of the Skaard's plea for Oran's aid in fighting fresh Thrade attacks.

Raki startled Rigel when she took off from her perch with a heavy flap of wings in search of her nightly dinner along the river banks. He sat back on the stool and rubbed his tired eyes.

Scipio had called back the troops, he mused, not knowing that there is a far greater threat in our midst than the Nazeers trying to take possession of Mynimium. If the Thrades conquer Kadaar and seize their ships, what's stopping them from crossing the sea to Oran? After all, they'd only be reclaiming what was originally theirs.

He read on throughout the night and was awakened early the next morning, not by Flenn Illymium or even Raki's caw, but by a servant, a fresh-faced Nazeer of nineteen named Dondi, who arrived at the tower room door with a breakfast tray laden with freshly baked bread, steaming eggs, and sausage.

Rigel usually had to travel down to the main dining hall and fend for himself. He wondered who had arranged for the boy to come to him. He had his answer when the lad dropped a letter beside the tea urn.

"What's this?"

The boy's shy gaze beneath shaggy red hair reminded Rigel of Jabe and his heart fluttered. "Your mail, sir."

Rigel eyed the letter, instantly recognizing the thin, somewhat shaky, hand as his former lover's.

"Wait, please." Turning his back on the boy, Rigel walked to the balcony. Passing Flenn still asleep on the divan, he parted the heavy brocade drapes keeping the wind from ruffling the pages of the library books and stepped outside.

Gripping the letter tightly to keep a cool gust from snatching it away, Rigel read Jabe's message informing him, briefly and somewhat coldly it seemed to Rigel, of his imminent marriage to the farm girl, Tessa.

Rigel was expecting this bit of news, but still, the words stung. Jabe made the right choice, the sensible choice. Everyone in Ardelym knew that something tolerated as youthful folly had severe punishments for adults. Rigel knew his days of caprice were over.

He read the letter again to make sure he absorbed its message, then tore the paper into tiny scraps. Opening his hand to let the wind claim his secret, he wondered bitterly why he couldn't live in a world where it was acceptable for him and Jabe to live together as lovers. Or Tylla and Carmelle for that matter.

Poor Carmelle, he thought, pushing aside the heavy curtain and returning to the now stifling warm tower room.

The boy, Dondi, stood awkwardly by the door while Rigel went to his desk to write a short note of congratulations, hoping he would communicate to Jabe his true feelings, that he still loved him and always would.

As he pressed the drop of red wax with the Oran seal he mused, I suppose someone will be pushing a plump girl in my direction any day now. I'm surprised it hasn't happened already.

Sighing deeply, he turned from his desk and held out the letter to Dondi. "Please deliver this posthaste."

Fingers trembling, Dondi took the letter.

"And when you're finished—" Rigel held the boy's gaze.

"Yes, sir?"

Eyes twinkling, Rigel continued, "Please return to help me bathe and dress."

Dondi's face broke into a wide smile, causing dimples to crease his smooth, plump cheeks. "Right away, sir."