3:29 The wake-up encounter.

"Would it be alright if I just go 'round your table while you're out?  You won't even notice I was here- except for the missing cobwebs and dust."

Hai Shui stopped his forward lurch for a few moments, listening to the careful tenor voice as it sliced through the hungover haze of his morning.  The young man- young to him, anyway- had decided to stand close enough for a flagon to be thrown at him, but too far to be actually punched, which the grey haired Shou had not chalked up to fear, which would have put uncertainty in the voice, a tightness in the body and a trembling in the aura, but instead to some strange form of respect.

Without saying anything, the broad-shouldered old man continued on his shuffling way, and the dark haired Human male gripped the battered broom in his hands a bit more tightly.

"Just the cobwebs and dust, you have my word."

Just as Shui ambled all the way out of the tavern's unremarkable wooden back door, its twin at the front swung wide, allowing a flash of flesh to zoom inside.

"Kullie!  Hey!  Hey, Kuhloch!" the sweeper hollered.

The little curly-haired boy who'd darted inside as though he were running from a ferocious animal stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of his full first name, but didn't turn around to face the man who'd spoken to him.  Even without the benefit of knowing the child very well, the speaker was not convinced that this current behavior was normal.

"Afternoon, Kullie."

The misty blue eyed boy turned around slowly, as though he were stuck in a spell.  By the time his gaze had finally met the rich brown eyes of the man who'd addressed him, that man had laid the rickety broom to one side and crossed his arms over his chest.  The former Purple Dragon watched the little lad fold his lips over his teeth and glance around from side to side.

"Afternoon, Raffie," the boy said cautiously.

"Uh huh, sure," Rafa said under his breath.  "If somebody hit you or made fun of you..."

Kullie shook his head quickly and violently, sending all his messy brown hair flying above his head for a few seconds.

"Alright, then, what's the problem?" Rafa asked lightly, a relieved laugh not far from his voice.

"Umm... 'member when ya said ya usedta pick pockets when you was my age?"

"Kullie," the man groaned, becoming concerned again.  "Your mother'll kill me!"

"Only if dat mage I nicked money from du'unt get me first!" Kullie hissed fearfully as he gripped the wood banister and leaned forward slightly.  It was the closest the child was going to get at whispering from half-way up the stairs to the lodgers' floor.  "I was gonna just drop it, only she looked right at me- only it wasn't a she, it was a he, and he was ugly.  I screamed in his face and ran!"

The man sighed deeply.  "That's not right to say, Kuhloch.  And you'll have to give the money back to he- um- him."

"I can't, Ser Unessmus, I can't, please, ya gotta bu'lieve me!" the little boy whimpered, tears springing at once to his eyes.  "When he looked at me!  His eyes- it was like- like a wraith, or a ghost- a demon!- or something evil like that!  I thought I'd die on'a spot!"

Genuinely surprised at this reaction, Rafa unfolded his arms and took a few steps toward the bottom of the staircase.  "Well, he's gotta get his gold back, so how're we gonna do it?"

No sooner had the words been said than the boy rushed down from the stairs and shoved the heavy purse into the former soldier's gut.

"Take it, take it!" he cried, nearly hysterical.  "I don'wan' it!  Take it and I swear, I'll neva do't again, I swear, I swear!"

"Okay, okay, Kullie, okay," Rafa replied quietly, allowing the accidental gut punch to bring him to one knee.  He moved his left hand to receive the gold as his right rested on the boy's shoulder to ensure he wouldn't simply dart back off.  "I'll find the guy and give it back; tell him it was a misunderstanding, that you were just trying something out, and that you're really a good boy.  And you'll have to tell your mother, but I promise, she'll be angrier at me than she'll be at you."

Kullie, whose faded blue eyes had welled up with tears, could only nod.

"Oh, c'mon, Kul, it'll be fine," Rafa encouraged, turning the boy around as he stood up.  "She'll be disappointed in you, but probably a bit proud too, that you learn things so quickly.  Go get her, and we'll sit down and talk about it tog-"

"There he is!" came a cry from the front door.

Kullie fled Rafa's grasp immediately, bolting for the kitchen door behind the bar as though he were made of lightning.  Rafa, sensing the reason for this sudden departure, stood up and prepared to face the strange man whose face alone caused the boy to run for his life.

Except the man, whose hooded facial features were delicate to the point of being bird-boned, was accompanied by a half-Elf archer, a husky Human swordsman, and a trembling Drow cleric.  The swordsman seemed prepared to barrel behind the bar and into the kitchen after Kullie, but Rafa made sure to move just enough to get in his way.

"Hey, he's just a child," the former Purple Dragon said calmly with upraised hands.  The purse hung from his right- not as heavy as it had felt when it met his stomach, but still weighty enough to indicate that a good amount of coin was within.  "A good boy, usually.  He was only trying out a trick I taught him, and-"

"So you're the mastermind," the swordsman said mockingly.  His stance relaxed slightly, but not enough to convince his hearer that he wouldn't continue his double time march into the kitchen if left unchecked.

"Gets a little kid to move through the market, doing his work," the half-Elf snorted.  "That takes a real coward, mister, a real coward."

Rafa looked from the rag tag group's obvious leader to the archer with an absolutely blank glare for a second, prompting the cleric to move forward just a few weak steps.

"Hang on, sir; I'm sorry- Dan, you might want to, um, you know, hear him all the way out," the shy-voiced Drow began quietly.  "I mean, there's no one-"

"I saw- we all saw- that boy run off to the kitchen, and there's Percy's purse right there in that coward's filthy little hand," Dan shot back aggressively.  "And he just said himself that he taught the child how to cut purses like that!"

"Yes, but that doesn't indicate that I intended him to go work the market," Rafa finally managed.  "You've jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"That's right," the Drow encouraged with a glimmer of actual happiness.  "I believe this man is reasonable; he seems to mean us no harm.  So Percy should just-"

"Didn't she do this last time, right before that Minotaur whacked Percival with that greatclub so hard that it took her more than half the fight to keep him from dying outright?" the half-Elf complained, crossing her arms as she shifted her weight so that she could assume a posture that screamed a tougher attitude than Rafa could imagine her truly backing up.

"Yeah, I- okay, look, Kim, I can't be the party leader if you're going to question my authority all the time," Dan groaned, looking back at the cleric with pursed lips and glowering eyes.  The Drow, in return, shot a look of absolute annoyance back toward the archer, whose pleased half-smirk was unmistakable.

"Okay, it's not my business what your problem with each other is, but I have every intention to give you your gold, ser," Rafa soothed, holding both hands up where everyone could see them as he moved toward a table between them.  "Here's the purse right here- here, on the table, okay?  You can just take it back, and be on your way."

"Well, I guess I-" Percy began, moving toward the table upon which Rafa had dropped the purse.

"Would you GET BACK, Percival?" the archer cried at once, snatching the mage by the back of his robes and pulling him toward herself.  The slender thing gagged and sputtered at once, clutching his neck and glaring at the archer.  For a moment, Rafa thought he'd had a pint too many the night before, because he knew he saw a sickly green glow grace the mage's face- right around his eye sockets.

"Number one," the half-Elf reasoned, "that 'Come and get it' crap is a trick.  That's how that Gnome lured us right into his buddies last week- you don't remember that?  Number two- and I know you've never been in an adventuring group before, so just know that this is how it is- magic people stay in the back, no questions.  It's for your safety."

"Actually, I've seen-" Rafa broke off and sighed miserably, putting both hands over his face.  "Never mind.  I get that you don't trust me.  I picked up a few street rat tricks as a boy, and I know that sounds suspicious.  But honestly, all I did with this child was share a few tricks from the old days.  Poof- the next day, he's out to try it all, prove me right or wrong.  Turns out, may Tymora protect him, that he's a natural.  But he's not really a thief, he's scared out of his mind to apologize in person, and I said I'd do it.  So he gave me the purse and ran off; that's what you just saw."

"Dan, listen to me; he's telling the truth," the Drow repeated meaningfully.  "I don't sense any wicked intent.  He's not shifty or twitchy.  All his body language is comfortable- like he knows us, even."

"That... sounds... sort of reasonable," Percy nodded, slowly pushing an arm against the archer so that she would let him go.  As she did, his hood slid back just slightly, and Rafa noted that his strangely radiant sea blue-green eyes were ringed with a brilliant orange tinge.  While they themselves couldn't be described as particularly demonic, they were sunken under ashen skin, as though he'd had a long, not completely successful fight against some wasting plague.  Scars, long and thick, ran rings around his eye sockets and burrowed back into whatever skin and hair were hidden under his hood- all in all, it seemed enough to scare the daylight out of a Human child.

"Because he's telling the truth," Kim piped up, looking from the half-Elf to their Human leader cautiously.  "I mean, he explained... that the boy was just trying... and he probably won't do it again-"

"Sure Kim," the archer scoffed, planting her hands on her narrow hips.  "Sure.  Just like that Minotaur just wanted to be understood, the Dwarf let Dan get alcohol poisoning by accident, and the wolves were really only attacking us out of fear."

The tone of the half-Elf grated on Rafa's nerves for a few moments before he heard the back door open and shut.  He, however, was not the only person that the archer had irritated.

"Merri, and I told you this at the time too, that Minotaur was deaf, the Dwarf was just trying to be friendly, and we made camp right next to the wolves' den!" Kim exclaimed, her deep crimson eyes flashing.  "I can't help you get around situations like that if you just contradict everything I say!"

"There's your gold, Percy; I have to get this corner swept," Rafa stated, moving to pick up the broom as he fought to keep himself from laughing.  "You ask me, sounds like you ought to listen to your cleric more often."

"And if you ask me, you're a cowardly thief," Dan retorted, hand on the hilt of his sword.  "A lying one, too."

"Oh my goddess," the Drow sighed under her breath, closing her eyes momentarily.

"Hold on a moment, Dan; think this through," Rafa began, finishing his cross to the broom and taking hold of it.  "I don't know what's gotten into your archer, but the man whose purse it is is satisfied to have it, and your counselor isn't sensing any danger from me."

"Except you're not giving the purse to us," the half-Elf cawed insistently.  "You're telling one of our two glass cannons to step forward, away from the protection of the obvious skirmisher and fighter, to get it.  We already know our mage is a weak-willed coward, and our 'counselor' hasn't been right even once."

"Why do I ever even open my mouth?" Kim huffed, throwing up her hands.

"With all due respect to you and your companions, Merri, that's absolutely ridiculous," Rafa argued, turning to begin sweeping as though the conversation were over.  "Who ever heard of a mage with low will and a cleric with no ability to sense motives?  Next, you'll tell me you all agreed to be led by some barbarian who couldn't read."

"Would you listen to that, Kim?" Dan asked, looking over his shoulder at the Drow, who rolled her eyes.  "Doesn't that sound like an insult to you?  Merri's right; it's practically stupid to listen to anything he says."

"Frankly, listening to your archer instead of your cleric in polite, diplomatic situations isn't doing anyone any favors," Rafa sighed wearily, moving a chair to sweep at the fragile web beneath it.  "Again, it's not my place to know how you all relate to each other, but Kim is clearly the woman of letters, and very likely trained to be more perceptive than the rest of you."

"You think I'm going to stand here and listen to a criminal try to reason with us?" the archer hissed back, drawing her bow as  she spoke.  "Give me one good reason not to put an arrow through your skull, you craven puppetmaster!"

"In addition to the fact that your stance is so dreadful that I doubt you could hit a cathedral's wall?"  Rafa laughed indulgently, not bothering to consider the threat for what it was.  "I'm much more likely to hand you your polished backside, to be honest.  I've seen more blood than any of you have, guaranteed.  And not a whole lot of it mine."

"A proud murderer, too!" Dan crowed, drawing his sword.  "He grows more virtuous with every word, doesn't he, Kim?"

"Is he always this perceptive?" Rafa sighed, casting a weary glance at Kim, who had plopped her face into both hands.

As the man that led the party began to literally growl, Percy sighed resignedly.  In a few moments, the scars that wound their ways menacingly around his eyes began to glow an eerie, acid green.

"What the- are you well?  What is that?" Rafa asked, stopping his motion to confirm that what he'd seen was in fact what was happening.

"I'm spellscarred," Percy replied, irked.  "Happened during my magic training, which I do have, thank you so very much."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the former Purple Dragon said, stunned.  "About the spellscarring, I mean, not your training- I've only heard of the Plaguelands.  Didn't have to serve there myself, but- I hear that- when the plague gets you- that it's difficult to survive.  And that even if you do, it's terribly painful."

"It is," Percy admitted in a tone so low that Rafa wasn't sure he was meant to hear it.

"Percy, your purse is... and that man... he's got a broom... to answer all of you," Kim piped up, having picked up her head momentarily.  "Please, let's just talk this over..."

"That thief just insulted and threatened us all, Kim," the archer replied, pulling an arrow from her quiver.  "We should teach him a lesson."

"What lesson?  Percival, are you gone insane?" Kim dared, moving to stand in front of the mage.  "Are we going to teach him not to bother talking to anybody who's an outsider?  Are we going to teach him to fight first and ask questions of the cadavers?  Because this is really not helping the whole 'mages and foreigners are dangerous' feel that I get from this place!"

"We can't just leave Merri and Dan," Percy replied in a raspy, otherworldly tone that sounded like a demon with a serious head cold.  "If nothing else, we have to at least make mistakes together."

Hai Shui moved up the hallway at his own natural pace, curious to see precisely how the young whelp intended to fend off at least three attackers at once.  Since it hadn't taken him long to make his water outside and no one had taken care to be quiet, he'd heard the matter from the beginning to its end, and had known that it would come to blows some time ago.  Meanwhile, the tavern owner, blissfully unaware of the brewing fight in her place of business, finally managed to manhandle her son out of the kitchen.

"Hang on, Deryn," Rafa called, having taken a stronger hold of the broom.  "I'm about to take out the trash."

At this, Dan moved forward to swing at Rafa with his one handed sword.  Rafa expertly parried the strike with the broom, then pushed the younger male back a step.

"That all you got?" the dark haired former soldier taunted.  "You're all so inexperienced, it's pathetic."

"What's goin' on in 'ere?" the tavern owner demanded immediately, letting go of her squirming son's shoulder.  "I bring Kullie out to apologize for a mistake and I find a fight?"

"Oh, here's pathetic for you!" Dan roared, coming at Rafa again. Rafa popped Dan in the face with the broom handle, then smacked the center of his broad back with the broom's other end, which caused Dan to stumble into a table, and snapped the cleaning end of the broom right off.

"What?" came Karri's cry from upstairs.  The healthy woman hustled out of the upstairs rooms and halfway down the stairs before Hai Shui, who'd merely stuck his head out of the hallway, stopped her progress with a mere look.

Kim, frustrated, deserted the scene immediately without another word.  Percy, distracted by her departure, managed to completely miss Rafa with the bolt of magical energy that he'd pooled between his fingertips.  Merri shot with all confidence that she would get Rafa's shoulder, but buried an arrow into the wall on the left side of Hai Shui instead.  The old Shou raised an eyebrow at her.

Deryn kept Kullie from running back into the kitchen again, bodily lifting him up and sitting him on top of the bar so that he could witness what he'd inadvertently caused.  Dan, who'd managed to steady himself on his feet, tried to lunge at Rafa.  The former soldier dodged most of the blow, but did manage to catch a shallow slice to his upper arm.  Using the broom like a quarterstaff- since it essentially had become one- Rafa got as low as he could and smacked the fighter's knees.  Percy managed to connect with a fire spell, engulfing Rafa's other arm in a weak blaze that was easily put out with a single tiger roll.  Since the roll put him out of the way of Merri's drawn arrow, yet another iron-headed projectile buried itself into the wood of the establishment- this time, the floor just in front of Hai Shui's feet.  The old male tried not to be too amused with her obvious lack of skill, but found himself chuckling anyway.

Rolling one more time to ensure that the fire was completely out and to get to a more advantageous position, Rafa kipped up and popped the archer- first slamming the broom handle into her left shoulder, which forced her to drop her bow, then splintering the make-shift weapon as he brought it back across her face.  Percy, who was absolutely rattled by the sudden advance as well as the merciless attack, accidentally hit Hai Shui with a bolt of pure magic energy.

"Okay, come on, let's work together!" Dan hollered bravely, finally managing to get to his feet.  "We can do this-"

Hai Shui took a few moments to poke at his body to check for damage.  Finding a single singe mark over his right shoulder, he nodded and took precisely three direct steps to Dan.

"I bet your ears ring, don't they?  Don't they?!" Rafa hollered at Merri, who winced and ducked in response.  "Get out of here before I actually start breaking you, you manipulative, untalented, gnawed-off bit of bitch!"

"Oh my god," Karri whispered with her hands over her mouth, somehow shocked and pleased at the same time.

As Merri scrambled her way through the door, Hai Shui dealt Dan a backhand so solid that the man turned completely around before collapsing to the floor again.

"Idiot tax," the Shou pronounced gravely.

Rafa turned around, shocked to hear the old man's voice, just as Percy decided that enough was too much.  The mage tore past the former Purple Dragon to escape through the door, leaving Dan completely alone.

"I dunno if we oughta apologize or not," Deryn admitted, looking up at Kullie, whose face had gone so white that the mother became concerned that he would soon faint.

"Rafa, you're- you're bleeding," Karri noted, descending the rest of the stairs to come and have a closer look at the wound.  The man himself cast the briefest of glances at it before refocusing his gaze on the floored fighter.

"Don't cross by him," he said sternly.  The words were largely unnecessary- Rafa's tone alone stayed Karri's feet.

"Gold for damages," Hai Shui noted as he shuffled to his table and sat down.  Not more than a second later, his head was down on the table as though he'd never gotten up in the first place.

Dan made a move as though he would disagree, but Rafa, quickly moving to loom over him, knelt down and placed his right hand loosely around Dan's neck.

"I just fought with a broom.  Pick up that miserable witch's bow and get out of here, and I might reconsider using your sword."

The threat, although whispered, was incredibly effective.  The moment that Rafa moved away, Dan clambered up, grabbed the dropped weapon, and ran without much more composure than his archer.

"Anybody tell you that you're almost better at intimidation than you are at actual conversation?" Karri snickered with a trace of nervously pleased energy lacing her voice.  Rafa lifted his eyes to her, and she was surprised to see a phantom sadness there.  Not fully understanding why she was so inclined herself, she finished descending the stairs and picked her way through the pieces of broom to get to him.

Kullie, meanwhile, was mortified.  "What if they come back?" he asked in a near-frantic, paper-thin voice.

"That's a fresh adventuring party, Kullie; I've seen their like before.  Trust me, they won't come back," Rafa sighed as he began to pick up the pieces of broom that were now all over the tavern.  "They'll likely scrap amongst themselves, try to get some meaning out of it, maybe even get it, if they keep that Drow girl around.  Eventually, some old fart in a tavern'll tell them to hunt some family relic in some cave or forgotten temple somewhere.  Or maybe they'll go to a sacred place where the Drow can hear the word of her goddess clearly- anything like that would do them good as a group; they need clean, simple experience.  Especially Dan.  Man spun like a top- and thank you for that, Master Shui."

"Rafa, hold still so that I can-" Karri began, genuinely concerned about the still-bleeding slice in the man's arm.

Hai Shui lifted his head and fixed the former Purple Dragon with a penetrating stare.  Rafa, who'd turned to look at what Karri was doing, noticed it at once, and looked straight back at the old Shou.  The older man's weighty, overwhelmingly judgmental gaze, which was well known for withering most other males, instead straightened Rafa's back, squared his shoulders, and put an energy in the deep brown eyes that had hitherto been noticeably absent.

There he is, Shui thought with a frowning nod.  Now, to get him to stay that way.

"Thank you, Ser Rafa," Kullie managed.  "I'm sorry I put ya ta fightin' for me."

Something in the boy's words- perhaps their tone, or what he'd actually said, struck the former Purple Dragon as visibly as an arrow or a ranged spell.  The old Shou watched a look, somewhere between longing and despair, take Rafa's gaze past his own and off into some memory or vision that likely wouldn't be shared.  At least not with some old man.

But the woman- she's got a chance, Shui thought to himself as he put his head back on the table.  She'll wake him yet.

3:28 Water in the stone.

Seyashen had already picked up three different books from the right side of the study's entrance way before Trizelle entered it.  Completely absorbed in the material before him, he leafed through the fourth one for nearly fifteen minutes before noticing her presence.

"Oh- I'm sorry," Seyashen smiled with a touch of embarrassment.  "It... uh... isn't often that I see demonology works..."

"The Stonerows house multiple copies of each of those texts," Trizelle replied with a raised eyebrow.

"...in a private collection," Seyashen finished, letting out a gale of breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Talk," Trizelle admonished, sweeping past him and into her alchemy area.  "Quickly."

Seyashen put the book that he'd been holding back onto the shelf slowly, contemplating his words.  "Are you... familiar... with Abethann Illance?"

"As I am with Semnemac," the court mage muttered as she looked at the shelves above her potion making tools.  Seyashen followed her gaze, but could see nothing of particular interest among the bottles and pots of the various substances.  "Yet, he sends you."

The golden-eyed Tiefling shifted from hoof to hoof for a few minutes in silence before venturing to speak again, and when he did, his tone had withered slightly.

"I'm afraid."

"Of your ability?" Trizelle asked immediately, bringing her line of sight back down until she was staring at the wall immediately in front of her.  "Of the message?  Or of me?"

There was no delicate way to suggest that all three questions could be answered affirmatively, but Seyashen attempted to think of one anyway.

A few moments after this sadly thoughtful pause, the court mage moved out of her study as though she were through speaking to Seyashen.  He blinked at her sharp departure, then followed her.  With a pained, but determined gait, the older woman descended the stone-cut spiral stairs that led to a heavy wood-and-iron door, which she pushed at with some effort.  At first, Seyashen thought he might have to move forward and help her, but before he could get to her side, the door sprung wide, letting the sunshine of the morning flood in upon them both.

"The master necromancy circle," the court mage managed as she made her way through the door and began walking into the open courtyard beyond, "is the closest to the divination circle.  Why?"

Seyashen looked from the strangely familiar, pale-stoned circle to the jet black obsidian one, then shook his head.  "I don't know, Master Ranclyffe."

"It's a common question in my Introduction to Divination class," the Human noted as she paused a few steps away from the two circles of which she spoke.  "So I ask the class, 'Who or what is necromancy's audience, or focus?' "

It took Seyashen a few moments for him to realize that the question was now being posed to him.  While it had been leveled calmly enough, the Tiefling somehow sensed that it was a right of passage to further information and cooperation.

Well, fortunately, I have more than enough necromancy experience.

"The dead," he answered quietly.

"Correct," the court mage retorted sharply.  "Now, who or what is the focus of a divination spell?"

There were a few moments' worth of silence during which Trizelle did not so much as turn around to face the person to whom she was speaking.

Amazing that Semnemac, who speaks to and for the dead, is warmer than the woman who's supposed to speak to the... oh.

"Living things," Seyashen responded as the realization dawned upon him for the first time.  "Almost any living thing, actually."

"And the boundary between those two forms of existence is thin," Trizelle breathed, taking a moment to look up at the clear sky.  "Thin enough that even untaught diviners may feel a strong necromancer's effects."

"Should I apologize?" Seyashen replied, confused.

"Te'valshath knew your childhood rage while yet unborn," the court mage said suddenly, moving around the divination and necromancy circles to a sort of inner courtyard that lay beyond.  "Necromancers, diviners and healers all paid in spades for Illance's indiscretion and disrespect.  His end was well deserved."

"You- you know-" Seyashen began haltingly, stunned by the succinct summary of two separate problems.

"I would hardly be worthy of my post if I didn't," Trizelle noted quietly, stopping to look at the sky again.  "Yet, not every ability is automatically a strength.  It was best for me to suffer Abethann's visions and Te'valshath's misdeeds with the rest of the ignorant populace.  The true sons of the Gates of Death did what had to be done."

Seyashen nodded, not able to verbally respond immediately.  Trizelle, meanwhile, moved all the way to her teaching area, which sat, unadorned, just beyond her divination circle.  A simple, long wood bench that sat upon two rough-hewn stones, one could have mistaken it for a place where the castle gardens could be viewed and enjoyed.  Seyashen, however, saw what seemed to be two generations of magic practitioners that happily sat around the bench, chatting to each other about theories and lessons as though they were still in class.  There was even a half-Elf, which surprised Seyashen until he realized that she seemed familiar with both generations.

"Thank you," Seyashen managed, as he looked up from the peaceful scene.

Trizelle, who had moved to the other side of the bench to stand with crossed arms and look out at the gardens, simply lifted her left hand to give a single, dismissive wave.

"Master Ranclyffe, your... son-"

"Dresan," Trizelle supplied when Seyashen broke off uncomfortably.

Seyashen blinked a few times, not certain whether he should continue in the manner that he'd prepared to, but quickly decided not to attempt to hide anything from a woman who had been able to divine information from him without even looking at him for the majority of the time that he'd been in her company.

"Do you know, Master Ranclyffe, why I cut off my horns?  I'm sure you noticed them missing."

Master Ranclyffe turned her head halfway over her shoulder without saying anything in response.

"I allowed a Dragonborn clan leader to do it.  He said it would cut off my connection to demons, and I- I didn't really believe it, but I just- let him do it.  I think now that I was just... trying to get rid of angry memories.  And bitterness.  And it didn't work."

"No," the court mage said in a tone so razor sharp that Seyashen felt reproved.  "It wouldn't."

And suddenly, Seyashen caught sight of the slender female who had appeared in the Illance house.  She firmed her lips, clenched her fists, and nodded.

"Then why did you do it?" he asked gently as he stepped toward the older woman.  "Why are you still doing it?  To a living being, no less?"

"Dresan is an adult," Master Ranclyffe spat back acridly.

"You treated him this way since he was a child!" Seyashen demanded.  "Instead of teaching him to respect and control the infernal heritage permitted him by Asmodeus himself, you are teaching him to perpetuate a cycle of emotional abandonment that was instilled in you long ago, in the effort to forget Thultanthar and bury forever all that place did to you.  But what will he do to his own eventual child, who will be, by definition, a Tiefling?  Your distance might give your heart a false peace- and it is just as false as the 'peace' I pretended to have while living a lie among hostile Dragonborn- but you are hurting him.  You are punishing him for the sins of his grandfather."

The woman snorted, then turned her head completely away again.  "I wanted him dead before he was born, Questioner.  That has nothing to do with his grandfather."

"Look me in the face, Master Ranclyffe, and tell me that you aren't handing the pain of your father's disapproval down to your son, and we will all believe you," Seyashen said very quietly.  "I, and Abethann- and your great aunt, Priscilla.  Priscilla has been so upset about this generational curse that you are coldly handing down to the one Ranclyffe child that can least afford to receive it that it took her weeks to calm down enough to relate her message to me.  When I first saw her, in the house of Illance, she wouldn't even tell me who she was.  Priscilla knows your mother's heart is in you- the heart that kept Dresan's secret away from those that would kill him, kept him close enough to watch over, and even in his adulthood, kept his near-criminal partner out of prison by putting her to work for the Council- please, Master Ranclyffe.  You've changed since you went to Shade, it's true, but that hardly sounds like a woman who still wants her only son dead."

"Now, that," Trizelle said as she turned all the way around and crossed her arms over her chest, "took courage indeed."

"Will you go to Suzail, Master?" Seyashen asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

The older woman looked around herself for a few moments, and Seyashen watched a brief look of phantom sadness cross her face.  "One condition."

"I'm listening," Seyashen replied.

"Mimsa is spoiled and needs a firm hand- although Aric is the most magically and mentally capable, he is also a former warlock.  People are still terrified of him.  The Lady Kaionne is an acceptably competent teacher."

"I'll ask her to stand in for your classes," the Tiefling nodded.  "Fear nothing."

"Take your own advice," the Human mage shot back immediately, moving past him without bothering to actually dismiss herself from the conversation properly.

For a few seconds, standing in the courtyard with all the spectral forms that only he could see, Seyashen was again struck silent.