Chapter 3

For the first time in weeks Lorraine awoke to the ringing of a clock. Sunlight was just barely creeping over the edge of the horizon, and for a moment she was back in her home, the Granayan sun falling through her towering stain glass windows. She wasn’t sure if she was sad or relieved to find that she wasn’t. Maybe a little of both.

She slipped out of the sheets, her body still longing to be curled up like another pillow on her bed. She carefully spread out her braided hair, picked up the brush the house staff had provided, and began to work her way through it. Parting it down the middle, her hands stopped.

She raced to waterproof bag she had placed under her bed the previous nigh and dumped the contents out on the floor. Spread out before her were the only relics of her previous life. She began to sift through them. It was only a moment before she found what she was looking for, a tiny glass bottle that had been a gift from her friend, Jancee.

At the age of thirteen Lorraine had been kidnapped by a group of men that had been hired by her Granayan uncle and a few of his cohorts. Luck had been on her side, however, and a group of migratory traders, the Dalaneens, had rescued her. For four months she had lived amongst them, practically adopted by their clan. It was there that she had learned the basics of medicine, and later had been initiated into the clan as an adult. For three years she had hidden the physical marks that the Dalaneens had given her behind a magical seal, afraid of the questions people would ask upon seeing the six colored strands in their crown princess’ hair. But that didn’t matter anymore. And her time with the Dalaneens had been real, authentic, so why shouldn’t she show her true colors?

Before she could worry about the consequences, she opened the bottle, and spread the spicy oil over her hands. She rubbed the contents through her hair. Within seconds the oil had evaporated and six highlights showed clearly. They were her colors, her fingerprints among Dalaneens. The sky just after the sun set, the green of her eyes, a dirty gold, a dazzling orange, a moonlight blue, and finally the bright magenta of a seashell. She had never been able to visit the seer to figure out what they meant but somehow they all felt right.

She threw on a pale green dress that Jerie had brought her, and smiled when she turned around and looked in the mirror. There would be questions, she knew there would be questions, but at least she didn’t feel like crawling back under her covers anymore.

At least that was what Lorraine thought until she stepped off the chaise and into her first class. She stood there awkwardly, biting her lip and as her fellow classmates, people of all ages sat intimately around the stone tables, discussing homework, gossiping, even gambling. A teenage boy with oiled black hair kept watch down the hallway for the approach of a teacher.

“Lora.” Lorraine turned in the direction of her name. There, in a group of people flipping through textbooks sat Agatha waving invitingly at her. Lorraine smiled at the med-student and walked over. The teacher walked in just as she sat down.

Lorraine could tell that the woman was a teacher not from her plain outfit, but from the way that the class responded to her presence. A moment earlier the room had been boiling over with energy and now it was as quiet and organized as the stone walls that surrounded it.

“Good-mourning class. Take out your assignments from Yesterday,” she said emptying the contents of her cashmere bag on the desk in the front of the room. Papers spilled over the stone surface and almost slid off onto the floor.

“Oh I almost forgot.” The teacher pushed back her flaming red hair. It was wavy and spread out in all directions like a bunch of flailing tentacles. “We have new student today. Lora I’m Ms. Klinstein, and this is Herbal Sudies 5. Please come up to the front of the class and introduce yourself.” Lorraine sighed. Why were public speeches always worse before a group of twenty than a group of five thousand?

“Hello my name is Lora Murale. I’m from Granay, and I’m sixteen-years-old.” She started to walk back to her seat when Ms. Klinstein stopped her.

“Um Lora?”

“Yes?”

“What is your experience in the field.”

“Oh. I spent a few months under the instruction of a Dalaneen medicine man, and have since been doing my own research.” Did reading count as research? She hoped so.

“That’s what I thought.” Lorraine was opening her mouth to question how, when Ms. Klinstein pointed towards her brown locks. “Your highlights.” Only twenty minutes and already she had forgotten.

“Ok class, today we are going over herbs to treat menstrual cramps. Don’t give me that face Feilo. If you want to be doctor you’re going to have to deal with it sooner or latter. Now who can tell me a common tea used to treat the pains of bleeding? Treydin,” she said shinning her pen over a middle-aged man with olive skin. He shuffled through his notes for a second.

“Um… Dong quai, Peony root, Rehmannia, and licorice.”

“Good, now how much more Dong quai should be used than the other ingredients?”

Agatha leaned over and whispered in Lorraine’s ear. Beads of sweat began to appear on Treydin’s hairless head. “She likes to try and confuse us. She claims that if we can’t think in a classroom, we won’t be able to think in the field.” Lorraine smiled; Ms. Klinstein was beginning to remind her of Journey Gratchen, the Dalaneen’s cynical old medicine woman.

“They’re all equal, Mam,” said Treydin, sighing with relief when his teacher nodded.

“Now Alyson, tell me another herb used to ease menstrual syndromes.” Lorraine hadn’t even noticed that the raven-haired Baroness was in the room.

“Ipecac.”

“Very good. If, that is, you want the woman to throw up her uterus. Ipecac is an emetic.” Lorraine watched, fascinated as the colors of Alyson’s changed at least three times within a matter of seconds. “Come on people,” continued Ms. Klinstein, “you’re here to study. Now can someone please tell me an herb commonly used to relieve menstrual cramps?” A few people tentatively raised their hands including Agatha, but Ms. Klinstein disregarded them. “New girl.”

To answer, or not to answer. Lorraine had just wanted to seep into the cracks of the Library, but she could tell that wouldn't happen if she bested Lady Alyson. Suddenly the Baroness sneered at her and she felt the answer slipping out between her teeth before she could even think. “Cramp Bark.”

“Good, now can someone tell me how to make a tea using Cramp Bark?” The room seemed to comeback to life. Someone nudged her arm, and Lorraine turned around to find Agatha smiling at her. “Good job,” she mouthed. Lorraine smiled back.

After another hour of taking notes and discussing the merits of various concoctions, the class ended. Lorraine packed up the cloth bag that Dugg had brought her and left the room, Agatha and a boy named Pilan at her side. Just as the three of them were about to enter the chaise Alyson and two young aristocratic twins rushed pass them and order the doors to shut. “Sorry, noble privilege you know,” she laughed as the doors slid closed.

“She’s such a witch,” said Pilan. “You know she shouldn’t even be here anymore, not with her grades. But Daddy donated a new wing to the library.” Lorraine bit back a laugh. She wondered what the dark-haired Baroness would say if she knew the truth.

The next class was Surgical Thesis 2. As Agatha and her friends were fifth year students Lorraine entered the classroom alone. It was larger than the previous room, with long gleaming tables that she later found out were used for dissection. Once again the students were occupied by leisurely conversation. She took a seat at the back of the room by an unaccompanied girl.

She turned to introduce herself, but her neighbor didn’t look up from the large book she was reading. Lorraine tried to catch a glimpse of the pages as a conversation starter, but strawberry brown hair acted like a canopy around the blue binding. The girl’s hands were pale and her knuckles seemed to pop out of her skin as she grasped the binding.

The teacher walked into the class a few minutes later. He was at least a head shorter than Lorraine, chubby, with a few fluffs of black at the back of his head. When he opened his leather sack the files he took out were neatly ordered by color. He then introduced himself as Mr. Malmud, and had Lorraine go through a similar introduction process as the one she had went through in Herbal Studies.

The politics that Agatha and Rand had warned her about truly became apparent when Mr. Malmud took roll call. While Ms. Klinstein had simply used first names, Mr. Malmud used titles. For the most part the aristocrats were pretty obvious from their jeweled ears and beaded clothes. Lorraine, however, was quite surprised why then quiet girl next to her raised her hand to Lady Aliceya Arthgallo.

It wasn’t until the girl sighed, “So I guess you’ve met my sister,” that Lorraine realized that she had been starring at Aliceya whilst her mouth brushed against the floor. She quickly turned around ashamed and spent the next thirty minutes of Surgical Thesis in silence, except to answer the questions Mr. Malmud asked of her. And being since she was a commoner, the questions were always absurdly hard.

As they were walking out of class Lorraine rushed up to her table partner. “Look, I’m sorry about gawking at you like that.” For a second Aliceya just looked at her, judging. As the girl’s eyes traveled over her, Lorraine was worried that she was either going to lash out, or more likely, say nothing at all.

“Don’t worry if I saw someone like me with a sister like Alyson, then I’d probably stare too.” She tried to make her voice indifferent but didn’t quite succeed. Lorraine grimaced, trying to think of something but Lady Aliceya was already out the door and half way down the hall.

Lorraine couldn’t believe it was already lunch hour, but the bells chimed out eleven and she found herself following the masses down the hallways to a large mess hall where she hadn’t yet eaten.

Lunch seemed a little more structured that the other meals that she had enjoyed at the Library. Instead of there being a table the length of the room filled with choices all of the students were served a meat and mushroom wrap with an orange. Lorraine was surprised to find Agatha attached to the hand that supplied her with a plate. Normally she would have been reassured by the older girl’s smile, but at the moment could only wonder about where she would sit while the cook was on duty.

Luckily, however, Pilan spotted her and waved. She sat down next to the tall bark-skinned med-student. The tables in the lunch hall, unlike the others Lorraine had seen, were about as high as a person’s shins and instead of having chairs placed at each side, pillows surrounded it.

Introductions were quickly made and their conversation just as swiftly returned to. Most of the people at her table looked to be at least five or six years older than her. So, being slightly intimidated, Lorraine focused on listening to the manifesto they were creating and not letting the goopy filling of her pita slip out all over.

Lunch ended and, with the help of directions she had gotten from a shriveled old med student that Pilan had introduced her to, she proceeded to Immunology 2. It was on the other side of the building from the rest of her classes, but besides that and the atmosphere it seemed pretty much the same as her other classes. Lorraine was just beginning to relax when Aliceya walked into the room. The girl stared spider bites at her for a moment before turning away and taking a seat as far away from her as possible.

Lorraine knew that she hadn’t done anything horribly wrong, just let her mouth hang open a little too far. But who wouldn’t feel guilty with such practiced dejected eyes and droopy lips glancing towards her for an entire hour.

Things weren’t improved by the fact that Lady Aliceya just happened to have Rehabilitation and Therapy with her as well, or that when Lorraine finally spread her texts out on her bed at four she realized that she had a total of one-hundred and twenty pages to read and two tests to study for. Leaning back against her plump pillows she sighed and got down to work.

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A few hours later Lorraine walked out of the chaise and into the country’s religious heart. Since Lancove had extended its international relations thirty years ago it had been in dire need of people to help smooth over cultural differences with diplomats. Lorraine would help to make sure that when the Library priests created a temple or some kind of amusement for an embassy they wouldn’t accidentally offend. The country was still embarrassed over an incident, two years ago, where they had served the Cabrycian minister rabbit, a sacred animal in his country. Lorraine found herself both slightly amused and amazed that her years of lessons in foreign traditions had done her any good.

The chaise doors fell open, revealing the first marble room she had seen while in Lancove. Blue candelabras illuminated walls draped in crimson and gold velvet. Life-size murals were painted where the plush material didn’t touch. A woman stepped out of the shadows. She wore a blue robe with gold tassels and a matching veil that reached around her face and tied in the back of her hairless head.

The preistess stepped forward and bowed. For a second Lorraine just stood there before remembering to bow in return. Why were her reactions so slow and awkward? They used to seem automatic. It was almost like her senses were suffering through some kind of aftershock.

The woman beckoned forward, and Lorraine followed. She was almost relieved when she realized that the intimidating priestess either wasn’t going to speak or couldn’t. When they reached the giant stone doors at the end of the room, the woman opened them with a key she had hidden on a string around her waist. She then bowed and waved Lorraine on.

Inside stood another priestess with dark skin and hair that blended into the shadows. She grabbed a torch off of the wall and bowed. This time Lorraine was a little more prepared so they were off quicker.

The hallway seemed to stretch out into eternity. It was a shame that it was dimly lit, because she could tell, even in the dim light, that they were extravagantly decorated. Lorraine watched as ancient battles, engraved in gold, came to life on the crimson walls as the flame flickered by. The ceiling was painted in squares with tassels hanging down from their centers; their shadows dashing away from the light.

Finally, they reached another set of doors. Two stone mermaids gripped the handles. They were so life-like that, for a moment, Lorraine expected them to move. The priestess bowed and began to walk back to her post. Lorraine waited until she was once again in darkness before pressing against the carved rock.

Sunlight swept in through the glass walls and down the hallway. She wouldn’t have been so surprised if she hadn’t just seen the sun set. Exotic birds cawed as they flew around the lush paradise of green. Fruits, trees, and flowers grew in the naturally heated room. A marble path led around peacefully rushing waterfalls. The only thing missing in the greenhouse was a guide.

Lorraine set out hesitantly down the path. The flowers, bright from soaking up the sun’s rays, seemed to reach out and greet her. The farther she walked, however, the more overgrown the vegetation seemed to become, until she was in a dank place where only a few glimpses of sun trickled down to reveal her way.

A few vines pulled back on their own accord to let her through an archway. She stepped though and into a room made out of plants. A man robed brilliantly in gold and red sat behind a desk, combing through sheets of paper with a disgruntled look on his face.

He looked up at her as the vines slithered back into place. For a second his pointy face remained still. Then his feint lips broke into a smile of recognition. “So you’re the foreign customs girl.” Lorraine nodded. “I’m Valgte Apice, and, for the most part I’ll be the Valgte that you report to. Here, come have a seat,” he said moving a chair out for her with a wave of his hand. Valgte was the Lancovian title for a high priest.

Lorraine complied as she studied him. He wore a plain robe, but the material gleamed of money in the candlelight. His face was his most intriguing aspect, constructed of thin angular lines. But at the same time there was something about his peacock feather eyes that rounded out his appearance.

“So how did you come to know about foreign religions?” he asked, shuffling through his papers, and breaking eye contact with her. Lorraine blinked.

“My father was a religious scholar, and I helped him with much of the more tedious tasks or research that needed an organizing touch.”

“Did he publish any books? Maybe I’ve read one of them.” His voice was a low baritone. Lorraine was pleased to find that she liked listening to him. This priest possessed power so obvious he didn’t feel the need to flash it around. Even his voice was subtle, confident.

“He never published. He always had a book in progress, but you probably know what scholars are like. Their brains usually work too fast for paper to contain.” Valgte Apice chuckled, his ring-covered hand toying with his goatee.

“So has anyone informed you about what your job will be?”

“The letter that the shrine sent me said that I would help prepare church services for diplomats, but besides that I have no idea.”

“That’s right. Although, as you know, we have an excessive amount of books here that still doesn’t make up for first hand experience. I take it that your father met with people from foreign countries.”

Lorraine smiled. At least this question she could answer truthfully. “All the time.” For a second Valgte Apice studied her, but just as quickly looked away. His eyes didn’t move from her face, but their gazes were no longer locked.

“There’s only one more thing I need to ask you. You aren’t devoted to a particular God or Goddess, because the work you do here could get in the way of your vows.”

“No.” Although many people dedicated themselves to a single Deity, as the crown princess she hadn’t been able to. She could not risk alienating any of her subjects.

“Good. Then let’s begin with your first task. Prince Kristoff and Princess Martaje of Antia are coming here for the marriage of their youngest daughter. Although we do know a lot about Antian customs—” Lorraine could sense that there was something more to the priest’s tone than she could decipher. “—We haven’t had a marriage between our country in a long time and this needs to be perfect. This marriage could single handedly open up trade negotiations between us.” Lorraine nodded.

“The wedding is to be celebrated in a month and the Baron took it upon himself to make all the arrangements, which means it’s our job.” His slim lips twisted into an ironic smile. “In just over two weeks we have a meeting set up with the Baron’s family so I’ll need a complete list of the ceremonies and the necessary items. If you need anything just ask, but that about sums everything up. The pink stones will lead you to our collection of Antian etiquette books.” Lorraine nodded and left through makeshift doorway, the vines having once again moved aside for her.

It wasn’t until she felt the doorway close behind her that she realized that there weren’t any pink stones. She bit her lip, hating to appear inept on her first day, and had started to turn around when the stone beneath her glowed an unmistakable shade of pink. She took a step away from the Valgte’s hide-a-way, and sure enough the next stone glowed as well. Following the path through the tranquil greenhouse she reached what appeared to be a wall, but when she placed her foot on the final step, flowers spread to the side revealing a wooden door. She entered cautiously.

The room was small compared to most of the collections in the Library. A fading gas lamp flickered on the side of the room, revealing candles sprinkled with dust. Grabbing one of the fire sticks set conveniently out on a knee high table she proceeded to light them all until the room was encased in a steady, comforting light.

Stepping up to the far wall on a stool she began to look through the books and realized, as she looked at the covers, that the Valgte had sent her to a room of Antian diaries. The collection was probably the largest of its kind in the world.

Pulling down the first four books she laid them on the coffee table in front of a moth eaten beige sofa. As she stretched out on top of it, a large green book in hand, she realized that there was a butt print in the cushion beside her. It was indented into the sofa so firmly that Lorraine couldn’t help but wonder what other, apparently large, person would be in need of researching the Antians with such religiousness. Shrugging, she sat down to work.

It only took four pages for her to realize that the first book would be of no use. It was the diary of a particularly bellicose Viscount, whose descriptions did not go far beyond battle strategy, and crop rotation. The next one wasn’t much better, a courtesan’s record of all her conquests. Not someone who would have been invited to a royal wedding ceremony.

But the third one, written by a lady whose thoughts never went beyond lace and flowers and the five daughters she had her heart set on marrying off, seemed to be exactly what she was looking for. Settling down into a crevice between the settee’s arm and cushion she began to take note of all the little things Lady Calina had filled her life with

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Although Lorraine had become completely lost after work the night before, and thus hadn’t returned to her room until long after the night bells had rung, she found waking up the next morning a much easier task than it had been just the day before. Within fifteen minutes after she had risen she was hurrying off to the mess hall for a quick breakfast before she had to rush to complete as much homework as she could before her first class started.

For the first time since she had arrived at the library the mess hall was practically empty. In fact the only familiar person in the room was Lady Aliceya. Lorraine of course avoided her like the plague and went to sit on the outdoor terrace with her books. It was still early enough in the day that she could sit outside without being bombarded by heat. Lazily she spread herself out at one tables and proceeded to sift through the homework that had been assigned the day before.

She had become so engrossed in her work that she hadn’t heard the day bell and thus had to run to get to her first class. By some miracle she had actually ended up directly at the classroom without having to stop and ask for directions. She plopped down in a seat at the center of the room and took a few deep breaths before looking around classroom. For some reason the majority of the students in this classroom seemed older than the ones in her other classes had. In fact the only one who seemed even remotely her age was Aliceya who, of course, was huddled alone in a corner with a book.

Child Medicine was tolerable. That was the only word that Lorraine could think of to describe it. The teacher was an old woman bordering on senility, who, although had a great deal of knowledge on her subject, was beginning to lose the ability to link her thoughts together. At least she was nice. She also assigned the least amount of homework out of all of the teachers that Lorraine had had so far.

Next there was Lord Lloyd and the Art of Diagnosis. She was a bit worried when she found out that he was a Granayan Noble, but her fears of discovery were put to rest as soon as she heard him speak. His accent and mannerisms were distinctly Lancovian. She later found out that he had grown up in Lancove and that his Granayan title was simply that, a title not tied to land or money, just handed down by his father.

Her favorite class by far that day was rehabilitation. The teacher, a young woman named Ms. Basmah, had brought in various birds with broken wings and they had spent the class trying to mend them. It seemed that birds were constantly flying into all the various windows at the Library. Luckily Lorraine had been paired up with another student who possessed ample amounts of magical ability so they were done healing their Shrike long before the allotted period of time.

When the gong rang for the end of class, Lorraine headed off to the library. She sat down by Agatha who didn’t work Tuesdays. It was a rather brief affair since they had decided it would be fun to go up to one of the balconies and release her bird. It was rather odd talking with people her age. For months she had been surrounded by monks and priestesses and even before then on the few odd occasions when she had been placed in a room with people her own age they had stared at her, as if waiting for her to say something profound, and then nodded zealously when she asked them to pass the butter.

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Lorraine shifted back and forth nervously as she waited for the tutor to arrive. For the first time since she had arrived in Lancove she was cold, standing in that large stone room. The long metal tables barren walls suddenly seemed too sterile now that the classroom wasn’t filled with students.

After what seemed like an eternity the door swung open and in entered a plump woman with fading blond hair. The woman didn’t seem to notice her, however, tucked away in the corner, and bustled towards the desk at the front of the room. Sighing loudly she dropped her bag down on a chair. Finally she looked up.

“You must be Lora,” she said, smiling at her. Lorraine sighed with relief, at least the teacher appeared decently nice. “I’m Ms. Lailay. I must admit I’m rather curious to meet you. Usually they don’t assign personal tutors, but from what Dr. Jorrell said your magical skills and your Herbal knowledge are definitely not on the same level.” Lorraine felt herself blush.

“Ok,” said Ms. Lailay as she finished shuffling her through her documents. “Well we’d better get started then.” Suddenly she stopped and slowly looked around the room. “Well this won’t do.” Then with a wave of her hand the large barren classroom was suddenly transformed into something not unlike the interior of Journey Gratchen’s hut. Spices hung from the ceiling and various gems and pots all but covered the wooden walls.

Ms. Lailay pulled down a rather large box from the new shelf and set on the desk. She motioned for Lorraine to come forward as she took out a set of quartz stones and set them down strategically over the polished surface. “Ok, put your hand in the middle of the circle and focus your power.” Lorraine followed the instructions and within a matter of seconds the stones began to pulse. She looked up at the teacher nervously.

“Hmmm. Just as I had suspected. Although the educational council is full of rather brilliant people they never take the time and do things right. See how all of these stones are glowing white,” she said, pointing at them with a pencil. Lorraine nodded. “But this one, it’s a feint yellow.”

“Ok?” Half replied, half asked Lorraine, not really sure what the old woman was going on about.

“That little glimmer of yellow, that’s the kink, the reason that you’re gift pulses instead of flashes. It seems that you are in possession of two gifts, one small and one of undistinguishable proportions, for the moment at least. You see the smaller gift has attached itself to the larger one, thus preventing it from reaching its full potential.”

“Wait, you just figured all of that out, from that?” said Lorraine motioning to the now dim stone circle. The woman nodded.

“I knew what I was looking for, and I dare say that you’ve never had a magical reading before.”

“But I have.” The woman stopped and looked at her for a second.

“Well that is odd. The mage must of missed it, or he could have not possessed much talent.”

“Yeah maybe that’s it.” Except Lorraine knew for a fact that it wasn’t.

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Lorraine was greeted by a surprise when she finally reached Apice’s office the next day and the vines pulled back. The study had transformed into a small ballroom. It was well lit with red candles and royal clue silks cascaded down the now stone walls. People walked to and fro, exchanging tidbits of information, dressed in official looking robes. For a moment she stayed in the doorway and mentally retraced her steps.

Taking a breath she entered the glittering room. Pushing herself through a crowd of diamond-covered women, she tried not to draw attention to herself, or trip over the servants that offered trays of cheese.

“Lora,” cried a familiar voice. Lorraine turned to find the tall, slender, Valgte summoning her with his hand. “I’m sorry. I had completely forgotten that we were to go over your progress tonight.”

“That’s ok,” she replied, finally making it to his side. For a second it was silent as it appeared the Valgte was mentally weighing something.

“Lora, may I introduce you to my companions? These are Valgte’s Segnam and Abdall.” The two men coolly nodded their heads at her but she could tell that they were doing it only out of respect for her employer. One was a towering man who looked like he would blend into shadows. The other one was extremely short with an unpleasantly bald head. “And this is Ansel Kaniz daughter of Valgte Kaniz.” At least the woman smiled. And this, he said turning to his companions, “is one of my assistants, Lora Murale. She attends the college.”

“Really, Valgte, where else would she attend?” asked the priest’s daughter. Her tone wasn’t nearly as sarcastic as her words, in fact it was quite flirtatious. Lorraine attempted to swallow snort.

Valgte Apice just laughed in his normal, calculated, manner, and lightly kissed the lady’s hand. Finally he turned back to Lorraine. “Ms. Murale will tomorrow be an ok time to meet?”

“That would be fine.” He was dismissing her from the room. Cotton just didn’t mix well with silk.

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The next week passed not quickly or slowly but in a universe of its own. Maybe it was the change of scenery or the all inclusive atmosphere of the Library, but more and more she found herself focusing on mundane things like homework or what to wear. Of course it was then, when she had forgotten, that her memories would hit her the hardest, slamming into her unsuspecting brain like a bag of bricks.

Her association with the Ishaqs greatly diminished, but she did attend a few meals with them like she had promised, listening to and laughing over the twin’s latest debacle. Although she followed around Agatha and her friends when she had free time there was very little of that, her teachers obviously preferring to keep their students busy. In fact Lorraine had been attending classes for just about a week and a half when Agatha decided to speak to her about that particular subject.

A knock in the doorway caused Lorraine to look up from where she had an amalgam of various texts spread out on the coffee table in her little diary room. The older girl was standing hesitantly in the doorway, obviously waiting for permission to enter. Lorraine waved her in.

“Wow it looks like you’ve burrowed yourself in here for the duration of sand season. You need to get out, have some fun, live a little before you have to settle down and earn a living.” The second part was said with a slightly mischievous smile. Agatha had her hair pulled up and was wearing some pastel cosmetics that she didn’t usually bother with during the school day.

Lorraine sighed, snapping a book shut. “I’d love to, but as you can see if I want to survive my first semester there’s a lot I need to get done.”

“Sheesh,” exhaled Agatha, pityingly, scooting aside a few spare sheets of paper and sitting down next to Loraine. “Doesn’t your study group help you with any of this?”

“Study group?”

Suddenly Agatha groaned and slapped her hands to her face. “You mean I didn’t tell you?” she asked, peeking guiltily between her fingers. “I just figured that you already knew about them, since you’re literate and all. I’ve never even heard of a preliminary education institution that didn’t have them.”

“I had tutors.”

“I know, and you told me. I just didn’t put two and two together.” She groaned once again and collapsed back on the pile of uneven school supplies. “You know I could probably still help you get into one if you wanted.”

“That’d be great.”

“Good, now that we’ve actually found room for a life in your schedule I can get back to my original purpose. You are coming out with us tonight. You need a break unless your brain’s going to explode. No kidding, it happened a couple of years ago.” Lorraine laughed. She liked the way that Agatha and a few of the other kids made her do that. She had lived too long as a stranger.

As the two stood up Lorraine remembered another question that she had for the ashen-haired med student. “Oh by the way, how did you find me?” Agatha chuckled, an off-key crackly sound.

“I’ll tell you what I tell Lady Alyson when she is being particularly annoying.” She then turned to her friend and then flipping her hands before her face and sticking out her teeth like a chipmunk she uttered wickedly, “Library servants know all and see all.” Then returning back to normal, “And what we don’t someone else does, it’s very convenient. You forget Rand operates the chaises. He’s seen you come down here practically every day for the past week.”

“Oh.”

“Lora, you of course know Merry and Duvua. These are Harmony and Augusta,” she said indicating the owner with her hand as she said her name. “Girls, this is Lora.”

They were in a crowded pub, sitting at a table and trying to hear each other over fast and festive music that appeared manageable under the dull thundering of voices. The wood that made up the tavern had long ago absorbed the scents of sweat, liquor, and plebian perfume, and was beginning to turn musty in turn. But even if the effect was that the establishment seemed a bit smaller it also felt a bit more comfortable.

She looked over the girls that Lorraine had introduced her to. Duvua had the most hair Lorraine had ever seen. It surrounded her head like a nicely groomed fluff of brown and blond. She was tiny, and her skin, light brown like dry dirt, clung to her bones. Merry, who was sitting next to Duvua, was much darker in comparison. If it hadn’t been for the whites of her eyes Lorraine would have sworn she was made entirely out of chocolate. Her hair was fine and long like the rest of her. Augusta was albino who made up for her lack of looks with an almost constant smile. And Harmony was a buxom red head with exotic coloring, whose lips always seemed to be twitching into mischievously. Agatha signaled for some drinks to be brought over for them.

“So what do you study?” asked Harmony, breathing out smoke. In her hand she held a slim and effeminate pink pipe between her crimson red nails. Lorraine tried not to stare but she had never seen anyone with colored nails before.

“Medicine.”

“Gods the whole school’s been taken over by medics. That’s why I quit.” she complained, but Lorraine could tell, even if her face hadn’t moved an inch, that she was joking. She was glad. She somehow felt that Harmony was not a person to make an enemy out of.

“You quit because Professor Abirch threatened to fail you.”

“Oh that reminds me,” said Agatha. “Merry, can Lora join your study group. I just found out that she’s spent the past few weeks without one. You should have seen her this after noon, books stacked up to her neck.”

“Sure. I mean I’ll technically have to ask the guys, but I’m sure they’ll agree.”

“Thanks.” Merry just shook away the gratuitous words and turned toward Lorraine.

“It’s good to finally meet you.”

“You too.”

“Well anyway,” interrupted Augusta. There was in fact another thing that she possessed that contradicted her meek and pallid appearance, a need to constantly have her mouth moving. “Duvua was just telling us about a boy she met next week.”

“Really?” asked Agatha coking an eyebrow. “Handsome?” not was he handsome, simply handsome as if they had come up with a secret code among themselves when talking about the opposite sex.

Merry’s giggle joined the air along with the more burly bellows of the men who sat closer to the bar. “Extremely. He was so sweet. He’s the son of some cloth merchant but fancies himself an expert at poetry, not writing it simply reading it, and he kept on reciting the most charming lines to me…” she trailed off. Harmony simply snorted, grey wisps of smoke protruding through her nose.

“Sounds like nonsense to me.”

“What?” asked Merry, snapping back to reality.

“He obviously memorizes those lines just to use them on women. I doubt he even likes poetry.” Merry proceeded to scowl at her friend.

“How would you know that? You just don’t like him because he’s not an artist.” At those words Harmony smiled. The twisting of her lips was mischievous and so infectious that the offended med student was soon grinning as well.

Agatha turned back to Lorraine and explained. “Harmony only dates artists. She claims that she likes men who have talent but if you’ve seen some of their work I honestly don’t think that what they possess can be called that. We have a theory that she just likes to be painted.” Although the distinct smile on Harmony’s face did not change as a feint tint of embarrassment played on her cheeks.
“I don’t simply go with painters.”

“Oh yes you do and you know it,” interrupted Augusta. “I know what you are going to say there was the Cabrycian. But he was a sculptor which is basically the same thing.”

“Do you remember the one who wouldn’t let her change for an entire week because he said it inspired him—.”

“—And the one who talked nonsense whenever he was excited—”

“—And the one who could only paint when he was eating.” The conversation was moving so fast that Lorraine felt her head spinning. But even if she didn’t understand what they were talking about she was enjoying their company.

“What they mean to say, is that I’ve had a few eccentric men.”

“What we meant to convey is that eccentric, in this case, an understatement.”

“Do you remember—?” Merry was laughing so hard that she couldn’t finish. She pointed a finger at Harmony and it shook up and down along with her body. Lorraine started to wonder how inebriated these women were. “—That guy…The really ugly one with all the pock marks…the one who…”

“Yes, yes I know,” snapped Harmony, but her eyes were anything but resentful. “The one who wanted to paint me in the nude. You bring it up every time that we’re together.”

“He didn’t just want to paint you in the nude. He followed us around for weeks until you finally said you’d pose.”

“How did you ever manage to avoid that appointment?”

“Who said I did?” muttered Harmony, down into her mug. Even if Lorraine couldn’t see her lips she watched her cheeks rise even higher.

“What?”

“Just don’t be surprised if someday you go to cure some rich old lord and I’m on the wall, staring down at you as naked as the day I was born.” Agatha clasped her lips under her teeth as her entire face spread out in some kind of joy not at what Harmony had just admitted but at the freedom of being young and able to hear something so naughty.

Lorraine choked on her ale, and then when she was finally able to breathe again found her self laughing so hard that she almost fell out of her chair.