Chapter One

Though the crystal ceiling showed a sun already high above the earth, Tia Charlidan fought to stifle a yawn as she stood stiffly, resisting the temptation to lean against the side of the ornately carved doorframe. For one thing, the gold scrollwork running up the side looked fragile, and for another, it would never do for a mere Initiate laze while attending a session of the Council. Doing her best to keep her heavy eyelids open, she managed to focus on what the current speaker was saying.

A short man, Torvin Seril was altogether unnoticeable, and his history on the Council had done little to make him more so. At the moment, he was standing in front of his chair at the round table, ponderously going over a movement for three of the Initiates to be promoted to Artificer.

“Elin Dorsa has also proved his talent at basic construction, and though some question his ability to create second tier artifacts, he has passed all basic tests of proficiency.” Torvin paused for a brief moment. “On the other hand, his test on the creation of second level artifacts was a failure at best, though it is true that he attempted one of the most difficult pieces which demonstrates spirit if not caution… ”

Tia swallowed another yawn. Some novices whispered excitedly about what it would be like to attend a Council, and as such, she had arrived prepared for standing at the spiritual if not physical heart of the city. Hoping for fiery speeches and impassioned debate, no less. Hah. In truth, she had been standing in the same spot for nearly five hours, and the most exciting thing that had happened was when one of the Councilors disagreed with the others, sparking a long, dry debate over the proper care of the mulching beds. Fortunately, in just another hour, the Council would be done, and she could get some sleep before her morning classes. In theory. Perhaps she should get some of the work on her current artifact done before one of the teachers asked to see her progress, though it would do her no good if she fell asleep during a lecture…

Deep in drowsy thought, Tia didn’t notice one of the Councilors waving towards her until the initiate standing next to her gave her a sharp elbow in the ribs. Snapped out of her reverie, she stepped hastily over to the waving woman, hoping the other initiates missed the redness spreading in her cheeks. Interrupting half way through Tia’s deep curtsy, the Councilor leaned towards her and pressed a folded sheet of paper into her hands. By the feel of it, Tia could tell it was sealed shut.

“This is to go straight to the study of Sylana Arastrial, Initiate, with no delay. Do you understand?”

Wide eyed, all Tia could do was nod. While a council meeting might not be what

it was rumored, to actually visit the ‘Alar was, as far as she knew, unprecedented among the Initiates.

“May I withdraw, Councilor Malana?” she asked, proud of her steady voice. With a flapping motion of her hand, Malana dismissed her, already focusing on the matter at hand.

Constructed like a great bowl, the city of Seto’alar was filled with twisting and turning passages, some of which ran across the outside of the city, only stone and glass between a traveler and the outside air, and the long fall to the ground. It was in one of these passages that Tia found herself in now, though her destination was near the heart of the city. As she passed quickly through the hall, she paused to look out one of the huge glass windows set into the stone.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window— a tall, slender girl with bright green eyes, and neck length, curly black hair— and hurriedly tried to make herself more presentable for the ‘Alar.

Heavy snow drifted down past the thick glass, and frost rimmed the outer edge, yet the hallway was warm as ever, the work of the alchemists who had built the city so long ago. She never tired of the breathtaking view, looking over the land hundreds of feet below. One day, she would visit it, after she became a full Alchemist. Some of the other initiates claimed that they had seen the people moving so far away, but most agreed with Tia that the city floated too high off the ground to see much of anything. And besides, who would, or could, climb the Snowteeth mountains, above which Seto’alar hovers? Perhaps…

Jerking, she realized she had drifted off again. And when she had such an important job to do, as well! Whispering the vilest word she had heard Enin Lenard ever use, she sprinted to make up for lost time.

The core of Seto’alar was a different world from the rest of the city. Tia had been there once before, to the room where novices were raised to Initiate, and had only expected to travel there again twice, for her raising to Artificer, and then, she hoped, to Alchemist. The first time she had been there, she had been amazed by the utter quiet and the dimly lit halls made of real wood, not stone. The second time, she was no less awed. The halls seemed to have an air of history to them, as if every ‘Alar who had ruled the city still walked silently down their length, watching the few who traveled into their home. She shivered. It was not an entirely comfortable feeling.

Abruptly, the hall ended in a single wooden door, topped by a spray of moonstones, the personal symbol of the current ‘Alar. Tia sighed in relief. She had not been sure she could find the office, though all Initiates were required to know where the most important parts of Seto’alar could be found. She must have come by a different way to be raised.

Hesitantly, she approached the door, unsure of herself now that she had reached her goal. Slowly, she reached out a hand to knock, and then barely avoided jumping back as the door swung open of it’s own accord, and a tall woman stepped out. Tia started a deep curtsy, then hurriedly changed to one slightly shorter as she realized the woman before her was not Sylana Arastrial. Hoping the other woman had not caught her slip, she spoke immediately.

“Excuse me, Alchemist, but I must deliver this to the ‘Alar. Councilor… The other woman cut in as if Tia had not spoken. Not quite beautiful, she had a sense of sharp power to her that made Tia quiet as soon as the woman opened her mouth.

“The ‘Alar is busy right now…” she glanced at the small pendant hung around Tia’s neck- “… Initiate.” I’m sure she will see you later.”

“I was sent by a councilor,” Tia said without thinking. “She personally told me to…”

“Are you arguing with me, child?” asked the other woman, sounding truly curious to know the answer.

“No, Alchemist,” Tia responded meekly. Initiates did not argue with Alchemists. No matter what. But still… “Councilor Malana said that I was to—”

“Enough! You will go back to the Councilor and tell her that Sylana is to busy to deal with your message. She can receive it tomorrow. ”

Tia felt a flush rising in her cheeks, but the woman’s tone made it dangerously clear that a third protest would not be acceptable. Forcing her hands to relax their grip on her skirts, she curtsied again and turned back the way she came.

Guiltily, Tia tried focus on the class before of her. She had returned to the Council, only to find that it had ended early, before she could tell Malana that her note had not been delivered. Worse, as soon as she reached the chamber, she had realized she was nearly late for class and had to run off before she could tell even a single Alchemist. She could only imagine what penance she would be given for such a serious misdemeanor. Somehow she guessed that the woman who had blocked her way would not come to her defense.

Forcing thoughts of months— years— of kitchen duty from her head, she scribbled with her quill on the paper before her, taking notes on the broach the teacher held before him.

“Now, each of you will make a similar item by the end of class. It should be done sooner for the stronger of you, so when you finish, you may work on your other project.” The class was being taught by an Artificer, one rank above Initiate and one below full Alchemist, but to Tia, he seemed the very font of wisdom and knowledge- the same way, she reflected, that the novices most likely saw her. Smiling at that thought, she picked up the metal broach the teacher had provided and focused on it in a way that was by now second nature to her.

Hopefully, when she was done, the little garnet set into the pin would give a steady stream of light for a few moments. She could make it last longer, or even turn on and off at will, but to do so would take far longer then she had in this class.

Closing her eyes, she felt the structure of the garnet with her fingers— touching it seemed to make the process easier, for her, though everyone had their own quirks when working— and twisted it, forcing it to change to what she wished. At first, the little gem resisted, stubbornly trying to hold on to its natural form, but after a moment, she felt it give way, opened her eyes, and sighed in relief, seeing the broach glow with a flickering light. It did not always work so well— once, she had singed of most of her eyebrows trying to create a coat that would give of heat for her astronomy classes on top of the city—but she was confident her control was improving.

Looking around the classroom, she saw that most of the other’s were still focused on their broaches, deep in a trance. By her guess, only about fifteen minutes had past. Once, it would have taken her hours, and she was no longer disoriented by the odd distortion of time, as she once had been.

Rising from the wooden desk at which she sat, she walked confidently to the front of the room and showed the broach to the teacher— Allin, she thought his name was. He gave the work a quick glance and nodded curtly. Tia placed the faltering light in a pile on his desk- a pile, she was proud to note, that had only two other pins in it- one student, and the teachers own. Wondering who the others was, she looked around the classroom, but several others had just finished, now standing in line to present their work. Sighing in frustration, she took her seat again. Second place was not so bad, she supposed. And it’s not supposed to be a competition! Still, she did hate losing.

After a moments rest, Tia reached for the project she had been struggling with for almost four months now, a darkwood hoop filled with interweaving strands of golden wire, darker where she had already worked it. She had done that pattern by hand, and it had taken her almost a month to, but the result was a fine pattern as complex, perhaps, as coarse lace. A second level artifact, or at least it would be, with another month of work. When finished, it would bend light at will around the one who held it, making her invisible, or so she hoped. It was probably the most difficult artifact made by any of the Initiates hoping to become Artificer soon, except for Elin Dorsa, who had tried firebeads and burned of most of his hair, set his clothes on fire, and burned down nine rooms in the Initiate quarter, the fool. If she could pull it off, she almost certainly would become Artificer. She fingered the pendant around her neck, wondering what it would be like to add a silver ring to the lead of Novice and bronze of Initiate. If not— well, she had three tries before she stayed Initiate forever, same as for novices testing for raising. Artificers got one try to become full Alchemists, and the test for alchemist was not only the creation of some powerful item but something else, too, that no one, whether they had passed or failed, talked about. She had shoveled snow of the top of the astronomy tower for three months, just for asking. Novices whispered about it, sometimes, but were punished nearly as hard, if heard.

Clearing her mind again, Tia lightly touched an unfinished strand of gold. This time, it wasn’t so much a twist she used as a push and a pull and a slide, all mixed into one and all in opposite directions. Sweat sprang onto her face even as she focused on the wire. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she opened her eyes. One entire wire had turned dark. Tia breathed out slowly. That was the most she had ever completed in one class. Exultant, she wrapped the ring back in it’s linen covering, just in time to leave for her next class, astronomy on the roof.

Shaking snow from her coat, Tia left the astronomy class shivering. If her heated cloak had worked, she wouldn’t have to put of with the bone- chilling cold— though in truth, the penalty for creating an artifact unsupervised included confiscation among the labor, not to mention a switching at the Counselor of Initiates hands. Not that that had stopped her or any of the other Initiates she knew. Novices tended to still be to scared of their power to use it without coaxing, whereas Artificers were to concerned that their test for Alchemist might include good behavior to put a toe out of line.

Abruptly, her thoughts returned to her failed mission for the Councilor. She really was tired, to forget that. The question is, who do I want to displease less, the woman at the ‘Alar’s office, or the Councilor? She was not afraid of either of them— of course not!— but she didn’t want to make a councilor angry, and the other woman had been… impressive. Still, the decision was easy. Even if she is an Alchemist, no one has any business telling a Councilor what she cannot do, decided Tia. Quickly silencing the voice that told her she would do anything to see the ‘Alar, and another that said she wanted to prove the arrogant woman wrong, she checked that she really did still have the note in her pocket, then set of for the Alar’s office, the thrill of an adventure filling her. She had an hour before her next class, and that would be plenty of time.

Tia paused before the door into the ‘Alar’s office for the second time in one day. Nervously, she slipped her project from her pocket and stroked the golden wires. With a deep thrum, the wires pulsed with light and disappeared. Tia let out a long sigh. It had worked. Carefully, she opened the door a crack and peeked through. The woman who had stopped her earlier was sitting on a chair in what looked like a waiting room, with a pair of padded benches and glowglobes, on the walls, watching a small pendant shaped like a cross on a chain suspended from her fingers. She looked bored. As Tia watched, the pendant swung so that the longer part of the cross pointed to where she stood.

Hurriedly, she closed the door and pressed up against the side the hall, heart in her throat. The penalties for using an artifact unsupervised were higher then for creating one, and she had no confidence the device would last long at all. With the matrix of wire unfinished, the whole thing could collapse at any time. The door swung open, and the woman stepped out, chain still clasped in one hand. Peering down the corridor, she sighed and strode down the hallway.

“Someone was here,” she muttered, “but why would they leave? Unless it’s that fool girl again, lost her nerve at the last moment…” Tia almost spoke up angrily, but caught herself at the last moment, and watched as the woman disappeared around the corner. Hopefully she would look for long enough for Tia to deliver her letter. Then the ‘Alar could explain. That would show her. Slipping through the door, left open, Tia entered the room.

On the far side of the room lay a single doorway, partially opened, and Tia stepped quickly towards it, trying not to make to much noise. From beyond the door came the sound of a man’s voice.

“… So really, Sylana, you see you have no choice. You will do as I say, or you will pay…” Tia stopped listening, amazed. Nobody spoke to the ‘Alar like that, not even a Council member. Nobody called her by her first name, either. A woman’s voice, weak but with an underlying edge of steel, came back. “You can search until you bones are dust, and you won’t lay your dirty little fingers on—” a muffled scream echoed out of the door. Shocked, Tia looked inside. A man stood with his back to the door, a long crystal rod filled with pulsing red held in his left hand. And sitting in front of him was Sylana Arastrial, tightly bound to the chair she was sitting on. As she watched, the man reached out and gently stroked the ’Alar’s cheek with the rod— and she screamed again, loud enough to hurt Tia ears if it had not been for the gag tied across her mouth. Even as she watched, the man loosened the gag.

“Do you want to tell me now?” he asked conversationally. “It will be almost two more days before they begin to wonder why you have not appeared. Mera outside is making sure of that. You are busy, with a long diplomatic problem with Caldian again. Something about the price of gold we have bought from the mines in the Snowteeth. Two day to tell me, or not too, as you choose. Choose well.” The ‘Alar snarled at him.

“What you want is the one thing I’ll never give you, you fool. You cannot set foot there, and I will not tell you how. The Council will wonder where I am sooner then you think, and you will be—” sighing elaborately, the man replaced the gag, leaned the crystal rod across her legs, and turned to begin shuffling through the paper’s on her desk, apparently undisturbed by the raw screams echoing from behind him.

Tia felt like she might faint. Someone was torturing the ‘Alar, and she had no idea what to do. She had never heard of something like this happening. If the ‘Alar had been committing treason, perhaps…

And then three things happened all at once. The Alar’s eyes closed for a brief moment, and golden light shimmered around the ropes holding her. Tia gasped, recognizing the signs of alchemy being used. And the man turned, face disbelieving, then horrified, as he jumped back just in time to avoid being singed by the inferno that consumed the crystal rod, the chair, and the ‘Alar. Tia felt the heat play on her face, but amazingly, the floor did not catch fire, nor did the walls. It felt nice to finally be warm.

She opened her eyes, surprised to find she had closed them, and noticed the man was staring wide eyed at her. Why was that? She stared stupidly back. Suddenly, her senses came back to her in a rush, and she realized that her artifact had finally stopped working.

For a second, they stared at each other, and then with a strangled scream, Tia turned and half fell, half ran into the waiting room. A blue bolt of crackling lightning flashed over her shoulder as she flung open the door and scrambled out of the room. Sobbing with fear, she shoved past the startled woman returning to the office and scrambled down the hall, a rain of arching lightning blowing holes in the walls behind her. As she threw herself around a corner, a steady stream of fist sized fireballs joined the bolts.

With no destination in mind, she fled down the maze like halls of the Inner City, listening to the shouts behind her. Suddenly something seized her by her shoulder. Frantically she tried to twist away, but the man held her tight.

“Calm down, girl. What’s chasing you?,” he asked in a calm voice, full of power and assurance. Suddenly Tia recognized the sword and shield insignia on the mans collar, symbol of the watchkeepers of Seto’alar. Gasping in relief, she pulled away, trying to warn him. “Someone- I don’t know- chasing me, please…” He shook his head.

“Calm down, I said. You’re safe now, whatever has you scared. If I let you go, will you run?” She shook her head, and he released his grip just in time for her to miss the massive ball of fire that took off most of his head and shoulders. Screaming again, she fled down the stone hallway, the woman- Mera, he said- close behind her.

Suddenly, she was brought to a halt as she looked at the stone wall in front of her. Spinning, she could see no way out. And then she realized where she was and let out a low moan. A small portal just large enough to walk through opened out of on the walls, and she dove through just as Mera entered the chamber holding some kind of ruby studded wooden wand ahead of her, gaze sweeping around the room. The imposing woman saw Tia just as she slapped the gold plate on the other side of the door. With a grinding sound, a cover slid over the door and the room lurched into motion.

The room Tia was in was made entirely of wood, and shaped like a long oval. Four windows were place at each side, and a chair sat in front of the largest on one end. Tia was thrown into the chair just as the pod lurched into the air, dropping off the bottom of Seto’alar.

Sobbing in relief, she dropped into the chair as she realized that she was safe. The ship was built to land at the nearest town and from there… and then the enormity of what she had just done hit her.

When she looked at the receding bulk of Seto’alar, her home for sixteen years, it was through a sheen of tears. Teachers had taught her that long ago, the Alchemists had built the city as a refuge from a world that hated them. The world she in which she was now alone.

Yorh signaled the tribe to silence, and the Judgment was upon them. The two warriors faced each other in the tight ring of spears, feeling the long blades each held loosely at their sides. The long, curved blade of the arkash began to project forwards, but then split down the middle, flowing back to place the arm between a pair of steel blades reaching back almost to the warriors elbows. With a weapon in each hand, the warriors advanced to stand roughly in the middle of the ring. Uroah, the more experienced warrior, stood easily, eyes half closed, looking almost bored. In stark contrast, Kelh, the other, tested his footing in the loose desert sand, every muscle tense, eyes locked on his opponent, face already dripping sweat. He would find his death there, that day, or so he thought. But when the other warrior had been found with his women, in his own tent no less, there was little else he could do. The lone figure not dressed in brown desert tans knew better. What was happening today had far greater import than some barbaric ritual.

Despite his odd appearance, the desert- people ignored him completely. One warrior, jostling for a better place to watch from, bumped gently into his black robed form. He opened his mouth to say something, but even as the words began to form his interest died and he turned back to the fight, all memory already gone. The black clothed figure allowed the slightest smile to touch his lips. Savages.

Without warning, the Judgment began. The Uroah slid smoothly towards the other, barely disturbing the sand behind him. With a roar, Kelh charged to meet him. The two figures met in a clash of steel. Arkashi flickered, the long blades flipping forwards, points towards the opponent, then back to defend. Kelh threw slash after vicious slash at his opponent, but they were smoothly deflected down the sides of Uroah's long blades. Finally, Uroah seemed to tire of the game and trapped his opponents weapons together, between his interlocking weapons. Fast as lighting, though slow as mud to the silent observer, he thrust one, two, three kicks into Kelh's belly. With almost contemptuous ease, he bent the younger man over until all four blades were directly behind his neck.

The figure in black smiled in truth, this time. This was what he had been waiting for. He called out two words. “Uroah jen!” It was a bitter smile.

Uroah jerked upright, searching for his wife, dead three weeks, voice in the teeming crowd. It was looking for her friend, Krea, that he had been in this young upstarts tents, but that was forgotten as he looked desperately for the beloved voice. Even after he felt the cold steel of his opponents weapon enter his belly, he looked for his wife in the crowd. Even after he could no longer see anything at all.

Kelh was from another tribe, a traveling warrior searching for fortune. He had been staying with the tribe for two days only, and as he stood triumphant, blades still in Uroah’s flesh, he began to hear a growing noise from the crowd.

None would interfere in a Judgment, the black cloaked man knew. But when the young upstart from another clan beat the tribes best warrior for thirty years, for reasons none could discern, something was wrong. The crowds anger would grow, until Kelh would find himself in the position he had just inflicted. Kelh’s clan would learn, as clans did, and there would be a long talk, goats exchanged, rights to watering holes debated. Except. Yorh, head of the Sharp-blade clan, and Korh, head of the Fast-eagle clan, had hated each other passionately for three years, ever since Korh has been found in a compromising situation with Yorh's younger sister. There would be war. And when the desert- people went to war, a certain town near a certain watering hole would be destroyed. What made it sad was how easy it was. A death to arrange, an affair to inspire, a voice to mock, and yet another obstacle conveniently removed.