"Stop with the haggling, Gelko. We both know I'm leaving here with that blade at no more than three-hundred kwen."

"Milady, this blade was forged from true Galoran germerhon by the infamous smiths of Selmerdina. It is the only one of its kind in all the five major kingdoms of the three reaches..."

"You said something like that last I was here." Teshkah complained, a scowl forming as she tried to remember. "Ah yes!" she exclaimed, her pretty face lighting up with laughter at the memory. "You said that," she paused to laugh a little, "with enough force, this blade," she pulled half a blade from its sheath, "could cut right through even one of sister Sherona's stone fighters –Ha! What a joke! It snapped like a twig and she laughed at me; it was supposed to be my best effort too. At least I made her laugh. She never laughs."

Gelko the merchant cackled along. He was a spry old man, smallish with deep facial lines and a jovial manner that made him seem likeable. His shop was located at the heart of the Shelangri market, the biggest market on Heres. The market was a trade monster. Anyone could buy and sell in the Shelangri market; anything and anyone could be bought and sold in the Shelangri market; anyone, and anything could be lost, and...or found, in the Shelangri market. Deuran, the capital city of Tenauris, boasted the largest economy in the world thanks to the Shelangri market. It was rowdy and loud, as markets tend to be, but despite the noise, it was also a place of whispers where word traveled faster than beasts and boats, or never traveled at all. One did not survive here by being nice, and Gelko thrived.

"That was unfortunate, milady, but this is different. Just look at it! The stone alone is priceless –that rare shade of deep blue– and the blade... have you ever seen such white? Milady this is nothing like the last one..."

"You're saying this one would cut through and not break?" she asked, squinting at the little man. Teshkah unbelted the snapped blade –sheathe and all– and let it drop to a wooden crate at her feet. A pair of arm-guards caught her attention as her eyes wandered Gelko's wares. She could tell by the cost note beneath them that the pair cost fifty kwen.

"You know better than I that this is a piercing weapon, milady, not a cutting one. I shall make you my best offer in light of the last...exaggeration." He said that last part with a coy smile. "I shall give you this blade for four hundred and fifty kwen –no more, no less– and should you at a later date be less than satisfied with it, then you could trade it in for any other blade of your choice in my shop – I believe this is fair."

"Hmm..." Teshkah pondered, pouting and fingering her chin. "Even those?" she pointed to the floor at the back of the shop with a smirk on her fair face, one eyebrow raised. "What? You thought I didn't know about those? So?" she pressed, leaning forward, down and closer to the smaller tan man. Close enough to his head of thinning black hair to smell the stench of sweat underneath that of polished germerhon and perfume made from the wild tasic flower, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Of course, milady." Gelko said, a stiff smile crossing his lips. "For you, anything." He knew from her raiment that she was a Tenauri priestess of the fourth order. He just hadn't anticipated that she would be able to sense the material of the two blades hidden in the pit beneath floorboards at the back of the shop. Last time she came in plain clothes, so he had assumed she was merely one of the temple's voluntary retainers training with sister Sherona of the first order to become a windspeaker. No loss; four hundred and fifty kwen is more than I would have got for a dark blade anyway, he thought as he raised his eyes to meet hers, and deepened his smile.

"Very well, here you go." She tossed him a pouch that clinked and chinkled as he caught it. "That's five hundred kwen. I'll be taking these matching arm-guards too." The leather arm-guards were adorned on the outer forearm part with thin metal plates that were as much protective as they were decorative, and of the same white as the blade she had just obtained, encrusted with a blue stone of the same shade as that of the stone set into the guard of the blade's hilt. So, abandoning the destroyed blade, she slid the newer longer pointy one into its sheathe that now hung on her left hip. She fancied the arm-guards just as much as the blade and thought, not bad for one hundred kwen a piece, as she slipped them on, each middle finger through a corresponding hoop, a perfect fit. She turned around and left, cheerfully skipping in the direction of Deuran's grand temple.

Gelko was a man of trade. He had obtained that white blade from a Ramakhine boy at the cost of a bed and a hot meal, just the day before; he was immensely pleased when a priestess showed up at his shop with her heart set on that blade. The Tenauri priestesses were known for their eccentric tastes, and deep pockets. It was the one privilege allowed them by the High Reishen, priestess of the zeroth order, and queen of Tenauris.

Upon reaching the temple grounds, Teshkah noticed a boy walking the garden terrace and trailing a finger along the balustrade. He could not have marked any more than ten years. His clothes were notably Ramakhine – a loose-fitting long grey shirt and tight-fitting dark brown trousers that flowed into high-necked, brown, flat-soled boots. The contrast of the boy against the terrace projected an image of loneliness and deep sadness in the fading daylight. The Deuran temple was a massive, domed, white structure. Its estate comfortably included the queen's residence as well as residences and facilities necessary for the training of several hundred priestesses and retainers. Teshkah was almost sure as to why the little boy was there, pacing. She walked the white, paved terrace floors which were just wide enough for two walking side by side, to where he was headed and sat herself down on the stone parapet blocking the path of his trailing finger, four balusters away. At first, he had stopped pacing and simply stood there awkwardly disturbed by the intrusion. But then, just before he turned around to silently continue trailing in the opposite direction, and putting some distance between them, "Your sister?" Teshkah asked aloud to the boy's hearing.

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With a heavy shaky sigh, he turned his back to the balustrade and let himself slide down to sit on the pavement beside her feet. He then covered his face with both palms and said, "My everything," as the sobs finally broke free from his childish lips.

Only girls touched by the goddess may become priestesses and serve in her temples. Teshkah wasn't originally from Tenauris. She was born on a farm in the kingdom of Lisora as an only child to a farmer and his wife. She had been sailed to Tenauris from the third reach, a week before her thirteenth marker, a day after she suddenly screamed and collapsed in the fields.

She remembered it all too well – being pulled into the birxx, the too many voices, the fear, the lonely path, the token upon the pedestal at Ramak's altar – she still dreamed it some nights.

The priestesses had taught her that when a girl touched by the goddess reaches her age of assumption, the divine energy built up within her begins to resonate with the fundamental rules. Whenever and wherever that happens, the girl's soul is immediately pulled into the birxx, the marble of unreality, to protect her mind from the madness the voices bring. This however, leaves her body a vulnerable unconscious lump. In Teshkah's case, she had remained unconscious for a month. Her parents had been encouraged to return to Lisora after several days spent anticipating her recovery in the temple. The goddess did not discriminate. Any girl child anywhere could be touched. It was known throughout Heres, and some even prayed for it. By the time Teshkah had recovered, there was no one familiar to soothe her tired soul. That however, was the least of her concerns given the things she saw and then knew, about things normal people knew nothing about, neither could they comprehend.

*****

"Sisters," called Sherona, "word upon the wind is that the first secret has been moved, taken from Galoran lands by the Sukkra." Sister Sherona was one of the older priestesses. She had recently marked her sixty-eighth, and had a comfortable sophisticated manner about her that still managed to appear strict all the time. "He also took from them something they value even more, their future, the heir to Galora, along with several other newborns." She paused to give her words time to produce meaning in the minds of her sisters. "As was to be expected, the people of Galora are already at war. We all know what this means. What do we do?"

All the priestesses of the first and second order in the capital had received a summons from the queen. They had convened, not at the temple, but at her residence, in the Hall Without Windows.

"The pact binds the five kingdoms," Sherona continued, "ideally, all remaining kingdoms would band together to overrun Selmerdina. However, he took hostages, and having obtained a second secret, may not even be on the second reach anymore."

"ihtewowh shiewoier sdhie eieryerhn saoixcn sokcniok eiryknd geiowq k dfh eioq oie."

"mk o ioei iowhc knkal keowi nmelw o ieyht la oiei oieuyoij aoiealm."

"jeio iowuwa eiowu fowiz...not a concern for us." Deurah said, a soft plea in her voice. She also was of the first order, but in the rule of mind. "The Ascension requires all five secrets and we have one he will never obtain even if he manages to obtain all four of the others. This is not our war...not like the last one."

"Even so, the trust has been broken. We shall not ignore this. Sister Tasifa of the first order shall go," the queen said. "She shall observe and report. Sister Tasifa, you leave for Selmerdina tomorrow. Sering la Tenauris."

"Sering la Demur Reishen," chorused all the priestesses in the hall, in perfect unison.

Teshkah had been eavesdropping just outside the door. She had not yet mastered the wind aspect, so she had had to struggle to maintain the channel, but she had heard enough. She was about to turn and sneak back out of the queen's residence when she caught a shadowy movement in the corner of her eye. In panic, she turned around sharply and was immediately confused. Darkness in the form of a man had promptly placed a hand over her mouth and she felt cold germerhon flash across her neck. She tried to speak but instead felt pain and heat flow freely where just a moment before she had felt cold. Her hands reflexively moved to her neck where they met a deep sticky gash. The solid hand of darkness tightened over her mouth and its other hand began repeatedly stabbing her midriff in quick succession, leaving flowing pain and heat in the wake of each stab. Her eyes widened in horror as she realized she was dying. By the goddess, if I'm going to die, I would at least know who killed her, she thought. Reaching out to her attacker's face hoping to unmask the fiend, she tried to claw at its face, albeit, surprisingly weakly. Her slippery fingers simply slid off the dark form as its hand over her mouth escorted her bleeding body to the floor, its dark hollow eyes never breaking contact with hers.

Teshkah's eyes abruptly snapped open and she discovered she was in her room, soaked in a bed of her own sweat, her heart racing. A dream. A dream. A dream. She heaved a deep sigh and simply continued to lie there hoping her heart would win or lose the race at some point. It didn't.