"Go away!" snapped Maerin, unconsciously blowing a curly blonde strand out of her face. Leaning back in her awkward perch, she attempted to swat the shaggy black dog. The mutt's head reeled back, escaping all but her fingertips as they brushed their intended mark. The honey haired girl righted herself on the log bench and sent a glare over her shoulder at the dog. Batting large pleading eyes, it's persistent nose went back to the cloth covered bowl resting in her lap. Making a disgusted sound in the back of her throat, she swung a leg over the bench intending to kick it's shaggy midsection. The dog easily sidestepped her clumsy kick and resumed begging.

With another growl of agitation, the girl turned to the aged man browsing at the fish rack. She urgently waved her arms at him, trying to get his attention, "Excuse me, is this your dog?"

Turning to the tiny angry voice, the man peered at the mutt and shook his head, "No, doesn't appear to be. You waiting for someone?"

"Yes, I am," answered Maerin as she hugged the cloth covered bowl closer to her stomach. Reminded of her cause, the girl hardly noticed a sandy haired boy, a few years older than she, grab the collar of the black dog and drag it away while muttering angrily.

Before returning to browse the fish racks, the old man warned, "Be careful. The last thing you want is to be picked up off the street by some stranger. Don't forget to mind your purse, pick pockets will see those fancy clothes of yours and think your wallet's too heavy."

The blonde girl looked down at her attire with a puzzled frown. Fancy clothes? She wore a burgundy traveling dress with pale lace along the cuffs and collar. She owned much more expensive dresses back home. Surely, no one considered this one fancy. It was even dirty and ragged along the hem from her long travels. Giving up on the man's comment, she went back to watching the streets leading to the harbor from her place in front of the fish market. The market itself was packed with wooden stalls adorned with different colored awnings and racks upon racks of fish. By the smell, the girl doubted the freshness of some of the fish.

Sitting in the warm sun, she felt the exhaustion of the past few days overcome her. She could still faintly feel an ache in her legs from all the walking. Lowering her head, her eyelids grew heavy while she waited. With her nose coming closer to the bowl, her head jerked back up from the scent within, halting her doze. Her indigo eyes made a quick sweep over the crowd. Tapping her foot impatiently, she released an agitated sigh, wondering if her escort was ever going to arrive.

To her surprise, a firm hand wrapped around her arm, hoisting her off the bench before she could protest. The youth didn't bother glancing at the offender before hollering with panic, "Let me go, let me go! Help!"

The elderly man, who had warned her of such occurrences, darted his eyes toward the kidnapper and grimaced. He would be a fool to attempt anything on that individual.

"Maerin! Hush! What do you think you're doing?" came a disciplining female voice.

Maerin's stunned face turned up toward the woman who had begun hulling her off. The woman wore a white and black narrow skirted dress with impossibly elaborate silver jewelry. Her black hair was worn in an ornate bun and her intense violet eyes shone with disapproval. A long stern face, frowned down at her. Maerin, almost not believing her eyes, stammered, "Bere?"

"Address me as Mistress Nilyave, like is proper. Why is the heir of Somin wandering the streets of Multien?" Bere snapped, not caring that the girl was likely to succeed her mother's throne.

"I have to meet the contact for the white necromancers. Besides, this is my uncle's kingdom. It's not that dangerous," informed the girl, attempting to return to her post in front of the fish market.

The black haired woman shook her head and scowled while yanking Maerin back to her side. Bere hissed, "You fool girl. I am the contact for the white necromancers!"

"But...but you're my uncle's advisor."

"Indeed, and many other things as well! I didn't think your mother kept Ora around for nothing! I would think her Hall advisor would teach you something of our ways."

Maerin noticed that the moving mass of people on the streets veered widely around Bere, giving her plenty of space that wasn't necessarily needed. The advisor was not physically impressive or intimidating to look upon, but the river of constantly moving people wouldn't dare to accidentally shove a white necromancer.

"You will be seeing the King in a moment," said Bere, interrupting the young heir's thoughts and the words hit her hard. Any focus on the milling crowd, slipped away. She was caught by slight panic at the notion that her family would most certainly return her home.

"No! Uncle will send me back! I don't want to be Queen or heir or any of that! Ora said I could be a white necromancer. I have to go to the Hall," protested the runaway as she pointed a slim finger to the Firpen Island out beyond the harbor. On the island was the Losiandian Learning Hall, one of few schools that taught in the ways of magic.

Bere could understand the girl's hesitancy towards her station. Considering the situation with her mother, Corleen Alsol, and her now deceased father, Mlow Liser. The Matriarch's marriage to Liser had been an unfortunate mistake. No one would have thought the noble man would be so greedy as to try overthrowing his own wife. But then again, this was Corleen's third husband. Despite being a fine Queen and excellent tactician, she had a terrible choice in lovers. But because of all this, the citizens of Somin had no taste for anything to do with Mlow Liser, including his only child.

Bere was distracted from her thoughts when Maerin spoke up anxiously, "Mistress Nilyave, let me show you."

It was then that she noticed the cloth covered bowl held tightly in the child's hand. The woman risked letting the girl's arm go and watched as Maerin yanked the thick white cloth off the bowl. She suppressed a sharp recoil as the removed cloth let loose a wave of sickly sweet stench. The white necromancer had smelled death before and had no doubts about the status of whatever it was in the bowl. She spied a dead rat within the porcelain. Bere held back the questions rising inside her.

The blonde youth closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. After a moment, she began muttering under her breath. The faint noises she made were reminiscent of a child trying to persuade a stray kitten to come closer. Her eyes moved behind their lids, trying to find something in a world no one else could see. Suddenly, her blue eyes shot open, whatever she had been looking for was found.

The rat twitched once then twice and slowly rolled onto all fours. It shook itself and peered shakily over the rim of the bowl. The rodent moved as if being in it's body for the first time. It's eyes murky and dull from death.

"No! This is not the necromancy you should be doing! The churches will not care who your mother is if they were to ever find out you could do this. No one is to perform the corpse magics," Bere warned urgently and looked around as if church informants were already surrounding them. Of course, they were not but the look on the advisor's grim face lit a spark of unease within the girl that halted any objections.

Bere shook her head in distaste and warned, "I will only do this for you once. You must promise that you will never do it again."

The white necromancer hovered a finger over the rat's forehead, then twitched her finger to the space above it's head. To Maerin, the action was preformed so quickly and nonchalantly that it looked as if Bere merely flicked the air above the small creature. She must have flicked the soul out of the rodent for it's leg's went out from under it. The animal became a limp heap in the porcelain bowl once again.

"Now it is bound from the Sarath. That is the price of black necromancy. Once a soul is back in it's body, it is lost the moment it is released again. To create the living dead is to damn a soul," the necromancer lectured somberly, a spark of excitement hidden under her serious face. Maerin indeed had the potential that could make her a powerful white necromancer. Perhaps, Ora and herself could arrange a compromise with Queen Corleen?

"Where does the lost soul go?" asked Maerin as she swallowed hard. Not fully understanding the implications of her actions, but still feeling a tinge of guilt for them.

"That is a lesson you may be privileged to know one day; but for know, be satisfied with what I've told you. Now, we must see the King. Later, I'd like to discuss with you how you came to learn such a thing," Bere said with a look of half disapproval and half genuine curiosity.

The blue eyed girl flushed with embarrassment and closely trailed Bere's heels as she resumed taking the child away from the fish market. Maerin contemplated running away while the woman's back was turned and heading down to the docks to catch the daily ferry for the island. Then she decided against it since it would only give her a few days before Bere found her. She reluctantly buried the tempting thought.

Most of all, she wanted to avoid explaining anything to Bere Nilyave. Whatever she said, it was likely to get her into trouble. Besides, no one had ever told her raising the dead was against the rules. In fact, the uncomfortable realization came to her that such acts had been encouraged. Perhaps people in Multein were just weird about such things.

Maerin tried to remember her history lessons pertaining to Multein but all she could remember was the war that brought about the succession of her uncle. Her teachers back in Somin would be very disappointed in her, a future queen should know everything. They'd probably blame it on bad blood from her father, she thought sadly. Even though he died when she was too young to remember; the scathing way people talked about her when they thought she wasn't listening, was enough for her to wish anyone had been her father besides Mlow Liser. Having a father of common blood would have been less humiliating than having a father who was a traitor. Somin was very critical concerning such matters.

As she walked, Maerin noticed that the city slowly inclined uphill, with the palace at the tallest crest of the upward sloping hill that was Multien's capital city by the same name. Pine trees seemed to grow anywhere there was room and added color to the drab tones of the surrounding buildings. Maerin could clearly remember the amazing view of the harbor that was offered at the palace. Seeing the palace from deep in the city was another matter. The palace loomed over everything and seemed taller than it really was. The honey haired girl took note of the distance between her location and the massive structure. She suddenly hoped Bere didn't intend to walk the whole way.

Bere turned down a side street, and sitting in front of an inn was a carriage with two horses at the lead. The carriage was of a dark polished wood with the seal of the kingdom of Multien on it's sides. The seal was a silver gauntleted fist within a diamond of royal blue. Maerin sighed with relief at the sight of the carriage, she had walked too much during her past weeks as a runaway. The white necromancer who doubled as an advisor, opened the side door and ushered the girl in. Bere climbed in after her and shut the door as the carriage began to move. She took the rewrapped bowl from the girl and tossed it out the window, then winced at the sound of crashing porcelain. Maerin shook her head at the woman. It was just a bowl.

The Sominian heiress knew she had a lot of explaining to do before she would get the chance to fully rest from her travels.