AN: Apologies for how long this took. The original chapter was going to me MUCH longer, but I got hung up on the latter half. I know some people have been complaining about the lack of "happening", so I was trying to plow through to the good stuff. Learning where to split a chapter is surprisingly difficult. I'd wanted four parts to the arc, now it looks like it'll be five.

Summer had hit Karmanapura like a troll's club, and life in the city slowed. It was too hot to rush anywhere, and everyone sought an excuse to huddle indoors in the cool shade of their houses. The humidity made the air heavy like a blanket, and even the most dark-skinned native had to worry about sunburn. If there was a positive side, it was the farmers' predictions of a bountiful crop at the end of it all… although they were so tired and miserable from working the fields that even they found it difficult to smile at the prospect.

Rahn was probably one of the few not annoyed by the heat wave. He hardly needed much excuse to take it easy, especially when it meant he could stay inside with his tablets and calculations for company. Hot weather usually meant hot tempers, but so few had the energy to misbehave that he wasn't needed at the citadel near as much as he'd feared. A happy surprise, and one that meant all his free time could be devoted to his arithmancy. Years of work had suddenly made giant strides, and he was giddy at how close he was at a breakthrough.

Mallika had accused him of "jumping into the deep end" when it came to the magical science. A rather odd turn of phrase, and perhaps badly translated, but easy enough to understand… and he supposed it was was a fair way of describing it. Almost as soon as he'd grasped the principles he'd begun studying the spells he'd already known, breaking them down into their component pieces and seeing their commonalities. He'd spent a year in a kind of perpetual wonder, awed all over again by the magics he'd used for nearly his entire life without once suspecting the structure they'd contained within.

Within spells there was arithmancy. Within arithmancy there were runes. And within runes there was intent. Just like a spoken word embodied a concept, a rune expressed a purpose! A sentence arranged your words so that you could express yourself without sounding like you'd suffered a head injury… arithmancy did the same with runes to express magic. Children learned language by hearing the adults speak around them, figuring out the words, at first merely repeating them and then slowly, clumsily using them in other contexts. So too did Rahn take apart the spells he knew, extracting the runes that formed them, and then figuring out how to put them together into a spell that would do something never done before.

It was like digging beautiful shells out of sand. He discovered runes no one had suspected existed before, and then Mallika knocked him for a loop by suggesting that perhaps those runes hadn't existed before.

"You're saying that I… created those runes? Just by looking for them?" he'd questioned incredulously.

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting," the witch replied dryly. The two had been sitting on the roof of her house at sunset, the place where she often taught magic to Rahji. It had still been winter, and the oppressive heat hadn't yet arrived to drive them all into the shade. She was carefully using a copper knife to carve a piece of wood into something that would eventually be a wand; Catanya had warned her against using magical means to shape the wood, since the old wandmistress believed it could make the resulting wand unpredictable.

She shook the piece of wood - a piece of juniper, Rahn thought - at him. "Think of it this way: who spoke the first word? And to whom? What were they trying to say? Did that word have a meaning before it was spoken, and what meaning could it possibly have had to someone who had never heard it before?"

Rahn paused, mouth open. He thought about it, and thought about it. He thought about it so much that it made his head hurt.

He loved questions that made his head hurt!

Despite any expectations someone might have because of her identity, Mallika wasn't brilliant… not really. Rahn quickly leapfrogged her when it came to theory, and she was the first to admit it. She wasn't stupid, not in the least, but he could tell that she was a person inclined toward practicality and application. Theory was not her strength. That was why she'd come to him.

It was hard to keep in mind when faced with her apparent youthfulness, but Rahn eventually realized that her strength was her experience. Mallika was the elder huddled beneath blankets telling stories of days gone by to the children… amused and tolerant of the antics of the youngsters around them, because they'd seen and heard it all before. Answers were ready for anyone who would simply ask. She was like his clay tablets: a store of knowledge for those who came after.

Her stories were lost with her memories. The writing was wearing off the tablets, lost to time. Rahn thought that was a terrible tragedy. Fortunately, thanks to the knowledge she'd already passed on to him, he was a small step closer to helping preserve them.

"There is no somatic component!" he crowed to her. The two sat on either side of his low table, hiding from the heat of the day in the dimness of the kitchen of his home.

Linen cloth had been hung over the windows that bordered the room near the ceiling, letting just enough light to seep in to let them read the array of tablets Rahn had stacked on top of the table. The tablets had a faint feel of magic, thanks to the durability and privacy spells cast upon them.

It was mid-morning, and the children had wandered off to the market together while the adults sat to discuss magic. Although perhaps it was coming time to stop referring to them as children, he thought wistfully. Rahji had reached fifteen years old just that season, and Ayati was very nearly a young woman - something that at one time he'd despaired at ever seeing. The women and men slept in separate houses, but they spent so much time together they might as well have been considered a single family.

He shook his head, pushing aside the distraction. He tapped a tablet with a finger. "Half a year I've been trying to figure out why I wasn't getting the right wand-motions to make this work, until I became so frustrated that I just ignored them. Then it all came together! You hold the wand perfectly still! In fact, I'm not certain you even need the wand at all, though it doesn't hurt. All you need is eye contact."

Mallika looked over the tablets, gently touching each one in turn. She gave him a sideways glance, amused by his enthusiasm. "This is very impressive, Rahn. Have you determined the incantation?"

"No," he admitted sheepishly, "that's where I'm stuck now. I've tried all the techniques you've shown, and the answer has eluded me." He held a finger aloft triumphantly. "But that's not a problem! I've got an idea of how to get the incantation without needing to calculate it."

"Really?" Her look was sceptical. "How?"

"You're going to tell me, of course."

He could see her going through what he'd said, translating and re-translating the words in her head as she usually did when something knocked her for a loop. Finally all she could say was, "What?"

"Mallika, all of this is simply me trying to reproduce a spell you've already encountered, remember? You may not remember the particulars, but you must have heard the incantation."

"And all of this comes from my being unable to remember such things! Rahn, I merely said it was possible, nothing more. How can we know that you have made the same spell?"

"We don't, but we don't know I haven't, either. Haven't you followed the concepts you've taught me to their conclusion? If magic is all will and desire, than what's the incantation other than-than a noise we attach to the spell?"

She was staring at him as if he'd gone mad, but it wasn't the right time to enjoy it. "What's the Kemetic word for water?" he asked suddenly, pointing at her wooden cup.

She frowned. "Nwy."

"Nwy. Water. Two words for the same thing, and you know both. And do you need to know the word for it to drink it? Mallika, I've seen you cast without incanting at all! And don't get me started on when you do so without a wand-"

She waved a hand. "Anyone can do these things."

"I believe you," he said emphatically, "but my point is that you're experienced enough to make magic happen without the- the crutch of words and motions the way the rest of us are still learning to do without. Do you believe my arithmancy is correct?"

Her eyes roamed over his tablets, over the endless symbols and calculations they'd spent the morning reviewing. "Yes," she answered finally.

"Then you're most of the way there," he declared, grinning as he leaned one elbow on the table. "In your head there is a word, one that you don't know you know. But it means all this!" He waved his hand over the tablets. "When you speak it, I'll learn what it is, and it will mean all this to me as well! Just like nwy had no meaning to me until you said it to me."

Mallika rubbed her temples. "You are saying that I will be able to make the spell work even without the incantation. And because you have no existing notion of what that should be, whatever I come up with will become the proper incantation as far as you are concerned, and so it will work for you."

"Exactly!" He nodded, pleased. "See? You understand."

"You make my head hurt."

"I have a feeling you may return the favour." He sat straight and gestured at himself. "Come, give it a try."

"What? Now?"

"Of course! You know the spell, there's no more preparations we can make. If we leave it too long you'll start to overanalyze it and maybe doubt yourself. Cast the spell, and don't think about the how, just the effect. Let your instincts guide you."

She'd picked up her wand from where it sat on the table, but held it uncertainly. She looked nervous, and Rahn couldn't recall ever seeing that particular expression on his friend before. "Rahn, do you think-..."

"Don't think, do." She recognized the words easily enough - she'd said them to his son many a time, and her lips twisted in wry amusement. "Trust me. And trust yourself. I do."

She blinked. Her lips pursed, and she hesitated a moment. Then she lifted her wand to point it at him. He didn't even blink. "Legilimens!"

It was night, a surprisingly cold evening for the summer. Torches struggled to provide enough light as two men laboured around a prostrate woman. A copper tang was in the air, and the woman groaned with pain and heaving breaths.

Rahn kneeled beside his wife, murmuring quiet encouragement. He was exhausted, but he knew his discomfort was nothing compared to Sumati's, so he ignored the complaints of his knees and back. He couldn't help a wince, though, as she squeezed his hand - he was certain the gods granted women the strength of ten men during childbirth, and he was pondering doing a proper study on the matter later.

A wordless groan of agony leaked between clenched teeth. Tears ran down her cheeks and her forehead was soaked in sweat. She was near the edge, having laboured all day in agony, her husband beside her. Sakah was present as well, and for all that the man was nearly thirty years Rahn's senior he never once flagged as he helped try to cajole the newest member of Rahn's family into the torchlight.

"One more push, Sumati," Sakah encouraged. "One more, we're almost done."

Rahn saw the irritation in his wife's eyes at the use of the word 'we', but she grit her teeth and pushed all the same. He moved to help support her as she leaned into the push, catching her as she fell backwards, chest heaving as she struggled for breath.

"I see the head! One more! Just one-" Sumati pushed again, and her growl became a moan of agony. "I've got it! That's it!"

The young woman collapsed back against her husband, so exhausted that she nearly passed out. Rahn gently laid her back against the mattress as he moved back to help Sakah. There was a choked gurgle and then a healthy cry filled the room, the wailing protest of a new human being exposed to the world for the first time.

"Is it-..." She didn't have the strength to finish the question.

"It's a boy, Sumati," Rahn said.

He carefully cleaned the squalling child while Sakah cut the umbilical cord with a bone knife. The screams gradually gave way to confused whimpering as the boy was wrapped in warm linens. He paused for a moment, marvelling at the being who was just drawing his first breaths, tiny arms and legs struggling against the swaddling as he experimented with movement.

For a long moment Rahn could only stare. My son. Sakah had said there was nothing like that first moment holding your child, and now he knew what the older man had meant.

"It's a boy," he repeated, leaning down to set the child down on Sumati's chest. She was tired… tired and in pain, but she still found the strength to lift a hand to caress the baby's head.

"A boy," she rasped. "Rahji," she added. Rahn nodded. He'd wanted to name the boy after his grandfather, but he owed Sumati's father a great deal and she got first pick.

"Rahji," she cooed, stroking the boy's crown. Rahn leaned down to mirror the motion as he toweled the the sweat off his wife's head.

A light tap from Sakah drew his attention. The older man gestured quietly from where he kneeled between Sumati's legs, trying to undo some of the damage wrought by such a long and difficult childbirth. Rahn quietly followed. His heart leapt into his throat the sight of the blood, at the hemorrhaging that would not stop. His wand jumped into his hand and he began casting, trying not incant too loudly, to not let his clever wife know just how frightened he was…

"So, when are you going to start trying to find little Rahji a wife?" he asked with false cheer in between spells.

"Trying?" she replied tiredly. Her eyes began to droop. "I've already got her... all picked out. Little… Little Ayati…" Her eyes slowly shut, the hand that rested on Rahji's head slipping off to flop onto the mattress.

"Sumati? Sumati!"

And the blood… there was too much blood. Rahn gave up casting quietly, his wand whipping through the air, the two strongest wizards in Karmanapura casting spells of healing and protection. Rahji began to cry as he lay on his mother's bosom, knowing instinctively that something was wrong-

Rahn flinched with a feeling like being startled awake. He was still kneeling at the table, Mallika across from him. The shadows were still where he remembered them; no time had passed, and it was only his shivering and the clench of his heart that reminded him that anything had happened at all. Mallika was pale, paler than he'd ever seen her, her expression stricken. Her wand was held clenched in her hand, pointed toward the ceiling.

"I…" She swallowed. "I am sorry. I didn't intend to call up such a memory-"

He held up a hand, forestalling the apology. "I know. It wasn't your fault. It was-... is a powerful memory, and one never far from my thoughts. I should have expected it." Mallika opened her mouth to apologize again, but he gestured. "Don't. I'm not harmed, Mallika. I think about that night every day, you just happened to be there for it this time."

"She was very beautiful," Mallika said quietly after a moment.

"She was. Although she would be very angry that I showed her to you in such a state… all through her pregnancy she complained about feeling tired and ugly. I learned to walk quietly and never come home without a gift." He smiled softly, caught up in happier memories. "When we figure this out, I'll show you our wedding day. She'd be much more pleased with that."

They were silent for a long moment as she allowed him time to salve the old, irritated wound. He blinked and shook his head. "So… `legilimens'," he said lightly, changing the subject. "Is that Kemetic? It doesn't sound like it. I'm going to give you some credit and not assume it's gibberish."

"How kind," she said with dry - if forced - sarcasm. She gave it a moment's thought. "No, it isn't Kemetic. I am… not sure what language it is. It is a word, and it sounds much like so many other spells…"

"See? I was right: the secret was right there in your head," he pointed out smugly. Mallika went along with it, rolling her eyes in a way that one would expect more from Ayati.

She sat straighter, squaring her shoulders. "You have your incantation, and you know your spell. We know it works. Cast it on me."

Rahn wasn't surprised that she'd want to blaze ahead, so he didn't argue. He glanced over his tablets one last time and raised his wand. She didn't tense as he pointed his wand at her, and he appreciated what a demonstration of trust that was.

He fixed the intent of the spell in his mind. "Legilimens!"

The sun blazed overhead. They stood on the bank of a river, broad and blue, flowing by at a leisurely pace. The ground was a mix of clay and sand… pebbled with small round stones and lined with short reeds that were vibrantly green, as tall and narrow palm trees stretched above them, their leaves providing meagre shade from the bright light.

He stood on the bank of the river, his linen hood pulled up over his head to shield him from the burning rays. A breeze pulled lightly at the white robes, and he absentmindedly smoothed the cloth down over his breasts. His attention was fixed on his student, Khereuf, as the young man stood facing the river, his staff held high.

The water surged into the air, thrust upward by magic, curling down and around itself like a huge, glittering ribbon. At the motion of the staff it curled itself into a bow, then balled up into a sphere floating a man's height above the river. The young man kept his head carefully shaven, and Rahn could see sweat beading at the back of his neck that had nothing to do with the heat. A muttered incantation and the sphere of water froze into a solid ball of ice.

Since Khereuf was facing away, Rahn allowed himself a small smile. The boy was talented, no doubt about it… when he made a mistake it was always because he was trying too hard, nervous under the gaze of the `Great Wadjet'. The students that Rahn took on to teach personally always ended up either becoming pompous about it (sometimes necessitating a harsh smackdown) or nervous nearly to the point of terror. Khereuf definitely tended toward the latter.

The boy spoke a word and the sphere of ice transfigured. Rahn raised an eyebrow at the result: Khereuf had transfigured the ice into polished marble, a ball of stone the height of a man hovering above the river. An impressive transfiguration, for certain… but the boy's levitation charms had always been somewhat lacking, and he probably hadn't figured on how heavy a five-foot-wide ball of rock would be-

Khereuf squeaked through clenched teeth, his staff waving as he tried to shore up the charm. But the ball had already slipped, and once that amount of mass got moving-

The splash was like a wall of water surging up onto the banks. Khereuf was instantly soaked and nearly knocked off his feet. Rahn, knowing what would happen, twitched his own staff to cast a wordless shielding charm, letting the water split and wash around him. The backwash flowed around his feet, carrying clay and silt back to the river, but he ignored it - the cool water was actually rather pleasant around his toes.

He could see the exact moment when Khereuf realized. He fought down a girlish giggle as the young man turned, his eyes wide with fright at the certainty that he'd find his teacher soaked and wrathful. His jaw dropped at seeing him standing there perfectly dry even though the ground around him was soggy. Rahn kept his face passive, only raising an eyebrow. The young man slumped, letting out a breath of both relief and dire embarrassment.

Rahn's high alto voice spoke alien words, though he knew what was being said: asking Khereuf if he understood what he'd done wrong. The young man sheepishly responded in the affirmative, rubbing his head and gesturing with his staff at the sphere where it lay in the river covered entirely by the flowing water. Rahn spoke again, the tone of a patient teacher.

A hiss interrupted his words. Khereuf nearly jumped, but Rahn raised a slender hand and firmly told him to be still, having seen what his student did not: a cobra, its hood flared, slithering angrily from out of the reeds. The snake had been slapped about by the wave of water and was angry, hissing at the nearest living being.

Khereuf glanced over his shoulder and turned white; he nearly bolted, which would have surely startled the snake into attacking, but Rahn snapped sharply for the boy to stay still. He stepped forward in slow, measured steps, and he lifted his staff, pointing the end at the creature. He did not cast - instead he waved the end left and right in a looping pattern, back and forth. The cobra was entranced by the motion, its hisses grew louder but its attention was fixed to the moving piece of wood, following it as it moved back and forth.

He told Khereuf to move away slowly. The frightened boy did and gasped as the cobra turned back to him before he'd taken even two steps. Rahn spat a rebuke - not for Khereuf, but for the snake, rapping the clay with the staff to draw its attention back. Khereuf managed not to dart away, but his relief was obvious as he got out of the snake's striking range.

The teacher continued to wave his staff; the cobra was still enraged, and it made short strikes at the tip. He changed his tone, cooing at the animal; he felt no fear as he stepped closer. He heard Khereuf speak worried words behind him, but ignored him. He even knelt down, speaking calming words to the cobra, slowing the motion of his staff. The hisses quieted; the snake ceased its threatening rocking back and forth.

Rahn smiled.

The snake struck.

Fangs did not meet flesh. Rahn's hand darted out, catching the cobra by the head even as it lunged. Khereuf cried out in surprise, and even the snake seemed shocked - it wrapped its coils around Rahn's slender, pale arm, struggling against his grip. Rahn stood, annoyed at the creature's behaviour. He even jabbed his staff into the clay so that he'd have his other hand free to bop the snake on the nose with a scolding finger.

He pulled the coils from his arm, gripping the snake's head and tail to toss the creature into the river with a splash. The cobra swam away as quick as it could, humiliated. Rahn snorted quietly - he'd offered the thing a chance to retreat with some dignity.

Then he turned and saw the way Khereuf was looking at him: eyes wide, his mouth open in awe. Rahn barely resisted a sigh. No doubt the tale would be all over Inbu-Hedj by the next morning - another `great feat' by the legendary witch. He'd given up even trying to contain the rumours, and was far too old to bother trying to counter them by being silly or `approachable'. Let them say what they want.

And, as was happening more and more lately, he couldn't help but feel like this situation was familiar-

Rahn blinked, landing back in the here and now. Across the table Mallika flinched as the link between them snapped. His mouth was dry; he reached across to steal her cup of water, and she didn't object.

"It worked," he rasped after draining the cup.

"It did." She was rubbing her temples, but her voice wasn't pained… instead, she sounded wondrous.

"It was...strange. I saw everything from your perspective. I felt like I was you. Not your thoughts, but… the memory of thought, maybe?"

"It was the same for me when I looked in your mind. Your emotions were very strong… but that is understandable."

"How long ago was that?" he asked curiously.

She thought for a moment. "Khereuf's son is taking my place in Kemet while I am here. So it was… almost sixty years ago, I think."

Elation streamed though Rahn's body as he realized she'd shown him a memory from before his own birth. Thanks to her, he'd been able to gaze back in time! "Mallika…" His voice was rough again. "We did it!"

"`We'?" she echoed skeptically, although he could hear the pleasure in her voice. "You did all the work, Rahn."

He couldn't help but grin. "I was inspired by you. I may have seen your memories, but I think I understand how Khereuf felt." She rolled her eyes again at the praise. He paused, even as his mind was racing, thinking of just how best to use this amazing new spell. "You spoke to that snake… did you understand it? Like with the phoenix?"

She shook her head, her braid swinging back and forth. "No. I was merely trying to calm it. But… sometimes I feel a kinship with them, like I should be able to understand them." She shrugged. "Perhaps it is magic I have forgotten."

"Well, hopefully we've made a large step toward helping you with that today. Do you know why that particular memory decided to show itself?"

She gave him a rueful smile. "Your memory made me think of Rahji, and Rahji makes me think of my other students. He and Khereuf would get along well, I think."

"He seemed eager to leave this afternoon even though he didn't have lessons with you. What is he up to?"

Mallika huffed, amused. "Knowing Rahji, he is someplace trying to entertain Ayati with magic."

Rahji was carrying a fish.

He and Ayati were wandering around the market square. The noon sun blazed overhead, and nearly all the merchants had set up large awnings over their stalls, propping up the dark linens or leathers with long sticks. The entire square smelled of smoke and sweat and dust, and the few customers willing to brave the heat darted from shade to shade, buying their items quickly and quickly retreating back to the alleys of the city so they could get home. Rahji envied them even as he pitied the merchants. The market was quiet, lacking as it was the normal crowds doing commerce, and it scarcely seemed worth the vendors' time to set up their stalls at all.

"Oh, look Rahji! Cardamom!" Ayati happily bounced over to the next merchant, an elderly woman kneeling on a mat surrounded by pots and cloth bags full of spices and seeds.

He fought down a sigh as he trailed after her, a few of the merchants around him (particularly the men) giving him amused and knowing looks. He'd underestimated how much Ayati loved shopping; she flounced from stall to stall, not just picking through the wares on offer but chatting up the merchants as well. She seemed to know everyone, asking about their families and their health, and as the day wore on he could feel the feather-light charm he'd cast on the fish wearing off. Now his arms hurt where he held the basket, and his shoulder ached from the awkward way he had to carry the fish so it didn't rub its scales against his skin; its slimy fish tongue tickled his fingers where he held it by the gaping mouth.

It wasn't a small fish. Ayati had been thrilled when they'd found it at the fishmonger, caught from the river that morning… it was big enough to feed all four of them generously, and she'd picked up some spices and fruit to go with it. He'd questioned the need to buy it so soon… couldn't it wait until they were done at the market before picking it up? She'd rolled her eyes at him, saying that there was no chance that such a fine fish would still be there when they came back. The fishmonger had smiled at that and given her a good bargain.

Now Rahji was stuck carrying it all, because of course he wasn't going to have Ayati carrying it herself! Not such a hardship, he thought - he'd cast a charm on both it and the basket he also carried for her in his other arm. Ayati loved seeing him work his magic, especially in such a practical manner, and Rahji had felt his chest puff with pride. He'd thought his spell would easily last until they got home, and now a voice in his head - sounding suspiciously like Mallika - was clucking its tongue at him for his silly optimism.

At least he could cower in the shade while Ayati shopped. Of everyone in the entire market square, she was the least affected by the heat; she was often chilled, needing to dress warmer than everyone else, and blazing hot days were practically made for her. Rahji tried not to think about what that meant, remembering days just a few years before when she was always cold and sick. The heat made tempers run hot, but Ayati was a happy, cooling presence as she made her way from stall to stall. She could quell an argument just by wandering near. All Karmanapura adored her, and no matter how frustrated a man or woman was, whether they'd just suffered a bad deal or damaged merchandise, they smiled when the young woman came by.

And she was becoming a woman, he was finding himself noticing more and more. She would always be slender and small - Rahji had himself enjoyed a growth spurt over the past year, and now she barely topped his chin - but she was starting to show the curves of womanhood. Her bright yellow sari no longer rested as snug against her chest as it once did, and there was a flare to her hips that hadn't been there a year before.

Rahji, caught in the throes of puberty, always felt bad when he noticed.

"Rahji?"

He blinked, realizing he'd been daydreaming. "Yes! Sorry, what?"

"I was just asking if you were getting tired," Ayati said. She hefted a chunk of ginger root. "I was going to put this in the basket."

"More?" he asked, not quite keeping all the astonishment out of his voice, hurrying to add "Sure, sure, that's fine." He hesitated, then sighed. "Just… I need to renew my charm. Can you give me a moment?"

"Of course! I really appreciate your help, I don't mean to drag you around."

"No, it's fine, I'm glad to help. I just need a moment."

He set the basket down and transferred the fish to his other hand so he could pull out his wand from a little sleeve tied around his waist. A quick tap of the fish and suddenly the weight was bearable again, and he repeated the gesture on the basket. For a moment he pondered just levitating both, but he'd have to concentrate constantly, and that'd be tiring.

"What were you thinking about?" she asked curiously as he put away his wand.

Rahji was glad the sun and his colouring hid his blush. "Oh, uh… just magic and my lessons."

"Oh! That's good," she replied, smiling brightly. "But Mallika said you didn't have to worry about lessons today, remember. You should relax and enjoy yourself."

He snorted. "She said I didn't have lessons today. That doesn't mean she doesn't expect me to practice."

Ayati giggled. "She does push you, doesn't she? Well, you are practicing, and if she asks I'll say so."

"Thanks. I don't particularly want to be turned into a monkey again." He grinned ruefully as she laughed.

Rahji had learned early on not to anger his new teacher, no matter how critical she could be, or how often she pushed him to his limits. Mallika was stern; she was strict. The tiniest bit of sloppiness in a wand movement couldn't escape her gimlet eye - she found flaws in spells Rahji had thought he'd mastered. The first season's worth of lessons with her were indescribably frustrating, as he felt like he was losing ground instead of gaining. One afternoon he'd become convinced that she was setting him up to fail, and made the mistake of losing his temper and yelling at her. He'd spent the rest of the evening forced into the shape of a macaque, the witch saying if he was going to screech he might as well have the right form for it.

His father thought it was hilarious. Ayati thought he was adorable and insisted on cuddling him, which made it both better and worse! Nonetheless, he'd learned to keep his tongue from getting away from him. And as much as it irritated him, there was no denying that his spellcasting had improved by leaps and bounds under her tutelage… something he hadn't truly appreciated until he'd seen another young godstouched practicing some transfigurations down by the river. It'd taken all his will to not stomp over and correct the boy's flailing wand.

Ayati bent over, tucking the ginger root into the basket as it sat on the ground, then plucked out a small copper knife that was visibly worn along the blade. "I'm going to visit the smith," she said, and though Rahji didn't groan his expression must have given something away. "You stay here and have a rest in the shade. I'll be right back."

"I can help-" he began to protest.

"I'm just buying a knife, Rahji, I can manage that much on my own." She wasn't angry, but her tone made it clear that she wasn't going to put up with much more coddling.

Rahji sighed and nodded, and she smiled as he retreated to a pleasant square of shade near the wall cast by a large cart, the ox that pulled it drowsing nearby as the humans bustled around it. Turning, she skipped off to the smith, who was such a feature in the market that his stall was actually bracketed by brick walls, with a small fire pit in the back so he could smelt his metals. A wooden table was set in front with a number of copper items laid out for purchase - spoons, knives, and beaten copper plates, along with carved bone handles waiting to be fit with blades.

The smith, a middle-aged man who had been working metal, wood, and bone for as long as Rahji had been alive, was probably the only person as unbothered by the heat as Ayati, and he smiled as she approached. Before long they were both fussing over her old knife, deciding whether it would be better to replace the blade or the entire thing. Rahji smiled as he saw the older man laugh - Ayati spread good moods everywhere she went.

The wall behind him was still warm, but Rahji was able to ignore it as he squatted down and leaned back against it. He took out his wand and fiddled with it, pondering his feather-light charm and what he could do to make it last longer. Even after four years of tutelage by both Sakah and Mallika, there was much he had to learn.

He was very curious about what his father and Mallika had wanted to speak about. He knew his father was working on something… something that was apparently related to helping the witch. Rahji had been told that she had problems with her memories, but he didn't quite understand - she wasn't that old, so how much could she be forgetting? She never seemed hesitant when she was teaching him, and she had magical knowledge that was even greater than Master Sakah's… so her memory couldn't be that bad!

Whatever it was it had excited his father, and Rahji knew his father was always happy when working and helping, and he'd been very excited over the past year and a half. He'd mentioned that she'd taught him a new way to make spells, one that was much safer than simply guessing or trying to force magic to do something for you; he also hinted that Mallika would soon be teaching Rahji these methods, and the young man couldn't wait.

Rahji glanced up at the sound of Ayati's voice and immediately frowned - she'd bought her knife and had been walking back to him when she'd been interrupted by a young man, slightly older than Rahji. She was happily showing them the new knife, but he could see the forced nature of her smiles, and he definitely didn't like the way the taller boy was resting his hand on the small of her back. He was standing and walking toward them before he realized it, leaving the basket and fish lying in the shade. His wand was in his hand, but palmed in a reverse grip, hidden - Mallika had shown him how quickly it could be flipped about.

Father had complained bitterly about some of the attention the young girl was receiving since Sakah had died. Rahji's former master had been one of the wealthier of Karmanapura's citizens, and Ayati had inherited it all… now some men had thought to obtain that wealth for themselves, either by trying to arrange a marriage with their sons, or by offering to "take the orphan in." And that was still better than the old men who thought to marry her themselves! Fortunately (or unfortunately, for them) all such proposals ended up going through Mallika, who did not welcome them in any shape or form, no matter how politely phrased. She could be rather liberal with her use of curses to drive off the greedy suitors.

Rahji didn't know if this boy had such mercenary goals, but he didn't care.

"Ayati?" he questioned as he neared. Both looked up as he did - the boy frowned briefly, but Ayati smiled in a way that seemed relieved.

"Rahji!" she said lightly. "I was just coming back to you when I met Kantaki here."

He saw the young man frown again, looking at him more critically… as competition, rather than just an interloper. "Kantaki, apprentice to Master Abhu," he corrected. "And you are the First's son?"

He nodded; he found himself amused rather than annoyed at the way the slightly taller boy was trying to stare down his nose at him. "Yes, and apprentice to Mistress Mallika."

Kantaki raised an eyebrow. "The outlander witch?"

"I don't know how `outlander' she is, considering she owns a house here and has lived here for years… but yes, the same."

"Does she actually know any useful magic?"

"She knows many spells. She'd tell you that how useful a spell is depends on who's doing the casting."

Kantaki gave him a puzzled look which he ignored, instead turning to Ayati. "Shall we carry your things back home?"

"Oh, yes." She turned to the other boy. "Glad to have met you, Kantaki, but I want to get home and get our supper started."

"What? You mean it's true?" Kantaki sounded appalled.

Ayati frowned. "What's true?"

"You live with the outlander, don't you?"

"Her name is Mallika, and yes, I do. Everyone knows that."

"And you cook for her!"

"Yes. What are you getting at?"

"You're her servant, then," Kantaki sneered.

Ayati's eyes went wide with incredulity. "That's… how in the name of the gods do you figure that? We live together, and we both contribute. She's like… she's like an aunt! Do you think of your relatives as servants?"

The older boy waved a hand dismissively. "You can't be related to a foreigner. She's using you."

"I give to her, and she gives to me!"

"You shouldn't have to give to her… you're the granddaughter of Master Sakah! If you marry well, you'd have servants of your own, so you'd have an easy life. You shouldn't have to cook, or waste your time in the market."

It went without saying who's family he thought she should marry into, and Rahji grit his teeth. He held his tongue, though… partly because he couldn't help but agree with Kantaki somewhat. Ayati did deserve an easy life… one that didn't run the risk of drawing her illness back any sooner than they could avoid.

However, he also knew - from experience - just what Ayati thought of such arrangements. She was fuming, which was such an unusual sight that Rahji could only marvel. "I do what I can, because I can!"

"Is that what she taught you?" Kantaki shook his head, and he even seemed sad. "My father said the Council should have challenged the First on his choice. The outlander's taught you all sorts of strange things."

"That's my Master you're talking about," Rahji growled.

Kantaki raised an eyebrow. "Of course. The one who says the usefulness of spells depends on the person casting them. I wonder… does she say that because she believes it, or just to make you feel better?"

Rahji bared his teeth, but Ayati laid a hand on his arm, forestalling anything he might have said or done. "If you don't like the way Mallika teaches Rahji or takes care of me, feel free to visit and discuss it with her," she said airily. "In fact, bring your father along if he's that concerned. For the moment Rahji and I will take our strange ideas and go home. Come on, Rahji."

He couldn't help but grin; she'd all but invited the other boy to come kick a dragon, and judging from the way Kantaki's face coloured he knew it. She turned and started to walk away. Kantaki made to follow, but Rahji stepped into his path, glaring at him. Kantaki glared right back from his slight height advantage.

"Fine. Run home," he snapped, "Master Sakah's heir, kept as an outlander pet."

"You watch your mouth," Rahji hissed, getting into the larger boy's face.

Kantaki looked surprised for a moment, then grinned maliciously. A voice in the back of Rahji's head (which sounded remarkably like Mallika) pointed out that he'd just exposed a very useful sore spot to the other boy, who now was looking to save face… preferably by making Rahji lose his. But it was too late to pretend he hadn't reacted. "That's right, the outlander is your Master, isn't she? Is that her plan, then? To have both Sakah's and the First's heir under her roof?"

He leered at Ayati. "Or maybe she's just planning to sell you to him-"

Ayati drew in a furious breath, but whatever she was about to say was lost as Rahji's vision turned red. His wand spun in his palm and was pointed in a blink. "Expulso!"

Kantaki reeled back like he'd been kicked in the chest, though he couldn't have been really hurt - it was a Banishing charm, not a Bludgeoning hex, and it wasn't like Rahji could cast one as strongly as Mallika. But the other boy wasn't interested in little details like that, pulling his own wand with a snarl. "Locomotor mortis!"

"Rahji!" Ayati cried with alarm, and around them the muggle merchants were also crying out at the sudden use of magic.

"Protego!" Kantaki's counterspell bounced off Rahji's shield and disappeared into the sky. The other boy looked shocked - shield spells were rare and hard to master, yet Mallika had made a point of teaching it to him early on. "Accio feet!" The taller boy's feet were wrenched out from under him. He landed on the ground with a thud, the breath knocked from his chest.

People around him were shouting, ducking behind cover or simply running away. Rahji was distracted long enough for Kantaki to heave in a breath and spit it back out in a disarming charm that sizzled past Rahji's ear. He answered with a growled "Immobulus!" that splashed against the ground as the older boy rolled to his feet.

"Diffindo!" Again Rahji's shield popped into being, deflecting the cutter away where it sheared through a pole holding up a tarp providing shade. There was a crash as the entire thing fell down on the merchant's wares, but Rahji didn't even hear it - the world had shrunk to just himself and his opponent.

"Expelliarmus!" The white bolt crashed into Kantaki's chest, knocking him away from his wand hard enough that he was hurled off his feet again, smashed backwards into a collection of reed baskets owned by a merchant who had wisely run away. His wand flipped toward Rahji, who easily plucked it from the air. The market was suddenly cast into silence, the shouting of the fleeing people lost in the roaring of his ears.

I won! The thrill of battle was still racing up and down his spine. He looked at Kantaki, struggling to stand in the pile of crushed baskets, and he was briefly tempted to knock the boy down again… just because he could! The other boy's eyes were wide with shock, and Rahji couldn't help but give him a feral grin. How's that for useful magic, you cretinous pig!

The silence was broken as four city guards stormed into the market square. "Stand where you are! No more magic!"

Rahji turned towards them, the grin still on his face and a wand in each hand, high on righteousness and victory. The smile evaporated as he realized the spears the guards held were aimed at him. "W-what?"

The guard-captain stepped forward, his spear at the ready and his mouth a dark line beneath his closely trimmed beard. "Surrender the wands."

"Y-you don't understand, I-"

"I said hand over your wands!"

Rahji obeyed, flipping both wands grip-first and giving them over to the guard with a shaking hand. Arresting godstouched was rare, but the guards were always near to violence when it happened… well aware of how much damage a witch or wizard could do with a mere word. Their spears were held high, ready to be thrown; he shook with fear as he realized that this was no apprentice duel… they were prepared to skewer him. Only once the wands had been taken did they relax, letting the stone tips of their spears point toward the cloudless sky.

A pair went to take hold of Kantaki, helping him to his feet. The other boy wrenched himself out of their grip, which only served to make them angry with him as they grabbed him and dragged him back. "He attacked me!"

His triumph was gone, and now Rahji felt only fear. "No, I-"

"Shut up, both of you!" the guard-captain snapped. The man looked at each of them, quelling them with a hostile gaze. "I don't care. You're both going to the Pit, and the First will sort you out later." The captain took hold of Rahji by the arm.

Rahji felt the colour draining from his face. His father… he was arrested, and was going to be judged by his own father. And Mistress Mallika! And… Ayati! He twisted, craning his neck to see if she was all right.

She was, standing near to one of the walls around the square. Her face was pale and her hands were clutched to her chest, and for a brief terrifying moment he was afraid her sickness had returned. But her eyes were wide and fixed on his, and she shook her head. He didn't see pain in her face… only disappointment...

"Oh, Rahji," she groaned.

The jail of Karmanapura was a large pit surrounded by walls, open to the sky, with a single set of stairs leading to the entrance guarded by a pair of bulky guards armed with spears and copper daggers. It was where lawbreakers were kept - drunks, thieves, and brawlers - until such time as the First or his designated deputy could judge them. Most of the citizens simply called it "the Pit".

Although Rahji's wand had been confiscated right away, it wasn't until he was ordered into the Pit that he felt like someone had poured icy water down the back of his neck. He walked down the stairs as if there were tigers waiting to eat him at the bottom; one of the guards gave him a pitying look, but they were men of duty and the most he could hope for was that they'd intervene if any of the other prisoners thought to attack him.

And there were other prisoners, men who were quietly waiting for their own judgement; they sat or squatted by the walls, looking sullen and hostile. One man was stretched out along the ground, his eye swollen and purpled; while he could have simply been asleep, Rahji's imagination was running rampant and he wondered if the other prisoners had beaten the man unconscious. Worse, Kantaki was in the pit with him, too; the other boy gave the First's son murderous looks, and though he didn't have a wand, Rahji was intimately aware that the larger boy could easily extract revenge through more mundane means.

He found a bare section of wall as far as he could manage from any of the others, squatting down with his back against it. Though the hot sun shone down on him directly, he continued to shiver. The pit had a simple dirt floor, and a few grasses struggled to grow in the shady area, reaching upward only to be stomped on by the feet of drunk or angry men. He stared at the puny plants, trying not to notice the eyes that regarded him with curiosity or resentment.

He didn't know how long he waited there… every heartbeat felt like a day. It couldn't have been long, as the sun had barely moved in the sky when he heard his name called. It was with relief and dread that he looked up, seeing his father standing at the top of the stairs, bracketed by the wary guards; the First's face seemed carved from stone, and never in his life had Rahji given his father reason to look at him like he was… until that moment. Rahji meekly climbed the stairs, ignoring the sneering looks he received from the other incarcerated men who'd recognized the First. At the top of the stair he timidly met his father's gaze. Rahn looked back, his arms crossed.

"Come." The First spun and walked away. Rahji's heart plummeted into his feet - his father only spoke in short, clipped sentences when he was too angry to do otherwise.

It was a relief to be out of the Pit, back into the streets where at least there was an occasional breeze to freshen the air despite the heat. Rahji couldn't enjoy it, desperate as he was to stay close as his father stormed through the city back to their home. When they arrived Rahn didn't even pause; he went straight through the house and into the courtyard, and his son could only follow.

His father stopped and turned so suddenly that Rahji flinched. "Guess where I'm supposed to be right now. Go on, take a guess."

It wasn't the opening Rahji had expected. "Uh… t-talking with Mistress Mallika?"

"No," Rahn snapped. "I'm supposed to be at the Citadel. Standing in judgement. Of what, you might ask? Of a man who was arrested for brawling down at the wharf. A man who was sitting across from you in the Pit!" Rahji winced, but his father ignored it. "Instead, as I'm walking to the Citadel the guard captain stops me to tell me that my own son is in that same pit! Dueling in the market, Rahji! What were you thinking?"

He opened his mouth to try to answer, but his father didn't stop. "Do you know why people come to Karmanapura, Rahji? Because they know this is a city of laws! Of fairness! We are not the barbarian tribes of the east! The people here know that the muggles won't be treated any worse than the godstouched, the wealthy won't have more rights than the poor… and that the son of the First won't be punished any more lightly than the fisherman from the wharf!"

He shook a finger at the boy. "But for some `fairness' isn't enough. I am watched constantly, Rahji! There are those who would argue that simply pulling you from the Pit first is evidence of my bias, when all I was concerned about was that the men in there with you might realize who you are… and try to harm you because of it!"

Rahji shivered again at hearing his own fear spoken out loud. Rahn sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I was just-" Rahji rasped. He paused, finding his voice. "I was just protecting Ayati."

"Was Ayati hurt? Threatened? Harmed in any way?"

"N-no…"

"Then you weren't protecting her. That's just an excuse."

Rahji exploded. "But he was talking about her like… like she was a cow! Like she was a pet Mallika was keeping, to be sold to us later!"

"And this was enough to attack him?"

"Was I supposed to just let him talk about her like that?"

"Yes," Rahn said flatly. Rahji's jaw dropped. "It isn't your place to get angry on Ayati's behalf! I believe you when you say the boy was acting abominably, but you should have come to me… or to Mallika. Your duel in the middle of the market put the innocent people there in danger." He pointed again, and his voice turned hard. "Remember this when you claim you were protecting Ayati: she was standing right there as you flung spells! What would have happened if she'd been hit accidentally? And when you were done, she had to carry her belongings home by herself, even as she was worrying about you! Was that protecting her?"

Rahji couldn't have felt worse if his father had simply beaten him. He hung his head, close to tears.

Rahn sighed. His hands were tugging at his beard, alternating between scratching at it and smoothing it out. "Do you deny dueling in the marketplace?"

The sudden formal tone made Rahji start, as he realized what was happening. "No," he answered miserably.

"Do you deny having started the fight?"

"No."

"Then I must find you guilty, Rahji. You don't deny it, and there were too many witnesses even if you did."

He nodded, his head still hung, unable to meet his father's eyes.

"I'm going back to the Citadel, to stand in judgment of that man I told you of before. If I find him guilty - and unless he comes up with an amazing excuse, I will - then whatever punishment he receives will be yours as well. Do you understand?" Rahn reached out and squeezed his son's shoulder. "I can't go easier on you than anyone else, but I'll won't be any harder on you either… whatever accusations I face be damned."

Rahji nodded again, his shame mingling with his gratitude. "I'm sorry, Father."

"Don't be sorry, be better. You can't undo what's been done, but you can learn from it. Any mistake can be forgiven, if you do your best to make them right… and sometimes that means accepting your punishment without excuses." His father no longer looked so angry… merely rueful.

He lifted his chin. "I will," he promised, his voice only shaking a little. "I'll make it right."

Rahn gave him a smile, a real one. "Good. Now, to start, you're going to stay inside until I get home. And you're not getting your wand back until all of this is done, and you're going to have to explain that to Mallika." Clapping him on the arm, Rahn turned and headed back into the house.

"W-wait!" Rahji cried after a moment of shocked silence. Suddenly he wasn't feeling quite so relieved! "I… I have to tell Mistress Mallika?"

Rahn's answer echoed cheerfully from inside the house, "Yup!"

Mallika watched quietly as Ayati doled out their evening meal onto the wooden plates sitting on the low table. The girl was silent as she did, barely focusing on the task, her eyes focused not on the pot that held the fish stew but on something miles away. The two ate alone - Rahji was confined to his home except for lessons and his punishment, and Rahn was hardly going to come without him. It was disappointing for them all, but she understood the necessity.

Honestly, she'd expected something like the day's events for a long while. Rahji was extremely protective of Ayati, and while she might only be fifteen, the girl was well on the way to becoming a comely young woman. Even ignoring her inherited wealth, it was inevitable that she would start to attract male attention purely on her own merits… and that attention would rub the young wizard the wrong way. At least Ayati's own description of the events seemed to imply that he'd been more protective than possessive during the whole thing… still, it was something to keep an eye on.

Rahji's practical magic lessons would have to be put on hold for the moment, until he'd regained his wand. It wouldn't be a problem, as she'd been meaning to start teaching the boy runes and arithmancy, and there was always potion brewing to keep him occupied.

It'd been funny when she'd visited him to speak to him - the boy had been near terrified, clearly expecting her to curse him into a puddle. (Had she been encouraging such fear? She'd been trying not to…) Granted, the magical community in Karmanapura believed the actions of the student reflected on the master, and Mallika had taken it upon herself to compensate the merchants for the damage the duel had done in the market. His worry had some merit.

He'd been so surprised when all she'd asked him was if he'd won the fight that it'd taken all her willpower not to laugh. As far as she was concerned he'd used his magic well, which was her responsibility as his teacher. What he'd failed to use was his head, and she made sure he knew it. He didn't deny it, didn't make excuses… that was good. Mistakes built character, but only if they were acknowledged. When it came down to it, she couldn't claim that she would have acted better, either. Even as Mallika, people insulting her to her face faced consequences - though perhaps she would have been a bit smarter about when and where to deliver them.

Still, the story would spread about how Rahji had soundly thrashed a wizard nearly two summers older than himself. If he met his punishment with his chin held high, the boy would gain respect, for both his power and his integrity. It would make it easier for him in the future.

It wouldn't do to tell such things to Rahn. He was a good man, a man who sought and usually found the best in others. He was… naive, in a way, despite his position in the city. She didn't think less of him for it… in fact, she was envious. She felt like she'd been more innocent once, and her deepest hope was that he'd help her remember how to be like that again. Such cynical calculation would disappoint him, and for all that he was hundreds of years her junior, she desperately wanted to avoid disappointing him. She'd told him more about herself than anyone should could remember, yet she always held back the harshest of her experiences, the lessons purchased with her own blood and that of innocents around her. She didn't want to tell him of enemies spared who came back later with knives from behind, or of slaves freed who would slit the throats of their former masters' children.

She may have taken a new name, but Wadjet was always in the back of her mind, reminding her that more damage could be done with an open hand than a closed fist.

"Is something wrong? Does it taste okay?"

Ayati's worried question jolted Mallika from her thoughts, and she'd realized she'd sighed while thinking. "No, no, it tastes delicious," she said, taking another mouthful. It really did; if there was something Mallika was happy about during her journey, it was the opportunity to be exposed to new food and spices.

Ayati seemed to barely hear the answer, pushing chunks of fish and vegetables around her plate with her wooden spoon. "What's wrong?" Mallika prompted.

The young woman was surprised to have the question turned around on her. She hesitated, but Mallika was patient and let her find the words. "I think Rahji likes me."

"Of course he does."

Ayati huffed. "No, he likes me likes me."

Mallika hid a grin behind a mouthful of stew. "As I said… of course he does."

"But what do I do?" Ayati cried.

"`Do'?" She echoed. "You're fifteen. You're far too young for any `do'."

Ayati folded her arms, her expression sullen. "There are girls my age getting married, even having babies."

The older woman scowled. The ages some girls married had always bothered her… some were promised away almost the moment they began their menses, and it never failed to bother the ancient witch. They seemed far too young, and it couldn't be just because everyone was far too young compared to her! "What is your point? Would you rush into a man's arms because he has interest, because some girls your age do so? Because you believe you have some deadline you have not yet met?"

Ayati was quiet for a moment. "I do have a deadline."

Mallika blinked, setting down her spoon. "Just because you know your life may be shorter than others doesn't mean you should rush into anything you're not ready for."

"That's the opposite of what I want to do!" the girl declared. "This isn't about getting married or not getting married!"

"Then what is it about?"

"Rahji likes me. And… I like him. But I'm still sick, and I'm not going to be around forever, or even a long time. And when it happens…" The shutters were closed against the sun, and in the dim light her dark eyes glittered. "I can tell Rahn still misses Mistress Sumati. It still hurts him. I don't want to hurt Rahji like that."

"You're worried about Rahji being widowed before you've even shared a kiss?" Mallika asked incredulously. She paused, frowning. "You haven't, right?"

The girl rolled her eyes, though she blushed furiously. "No!"

"Then why are you borrowing trouble from the future?"

"Because there is no future!" Ayati snapped. "All of my time is borrowed! I'm not going to die an old woman, and how is it fair to him if being with me means that shadow over his life, always? And I can't give Rahji a son, like Sumati did for Rahn. Rahji doesn't realize how much Rahn needs him, but I can tell. His son is proof that his wife existed, that she loved him! But me, when I'm gone there'll be nothing left, just the hurt, and I don't want to do… to do that…"

Mallika jumped to her feet as the girl went pale, wobbling as she kneeled on the mat, nearly tipping over into her food. She darted around the table and caught her before she did, kneeling beside her and holding her steady. "Easy… easy, Ayati. Calm yourself. Breathe deeply, slowly..."

She gathered the girl into her arms, rubbing slow circles on her back, cooing calming words. This was an outburst she hadn't seen coming, and she cursed herself for the lack of foresight. She'd known that Ayati was lucky to have one, maybe two womanly cycles in a year, even though she was old enough and healthy enough that they should have been far more consistent. Nor was the girl ignorant to how terrible it an effort it was to carry a child, an effort her body couldn't endure, phoenix tears or not. By the time Ayati had turned fifteen both Mallika and Rahn had concluded that bearing a child would be difficult if not impossible for her. Ayati had met the news with a kind of hollow disappointment, not sure even how to react. Now it'd finally occurred to her that she may not be the only one to suffer the loss.

She revived quickly, although she clutched at Mallika; her hands were chill where they found her skin under the edge of her robe. The witch held her as she mastered herself, sniffling as tears threatened to fall. After a few moments she nodded her head, and the older woman tentatively loosened her grip, though she didn't let go.

"Has this happened before?" she asked softly.

"No, not… not for years."

"Ayati..."

"I'd tell you!" she huffed, weakly but indignantly. She turned a glare on the witch, one that softened immediately. "I would. I promise." She was quiet for a moment, but she didn't shrug off Mallika's gentle grip. Instead she barked a rasping, bitter laugh. "The gods are laughing at me."

"No… no, they're not," Mallika sighed. "You do yourself no credit, Ayati. You have more worth than your ability to bear children."

"You say that. Catanya says that. Even Vida says that," she replied, and she nearly shook with helpless frustration. "I can't help but notice that everyone who says that to me actually has a choice! Vida and Catanya have their sons, and you can have a child whenever you like-"

"No, I can't," Mallika interrupted sternly, not quite snapping. Ayati was shocked into silence, pulling away to look up at her guardian with wide, glittering eyes. "No. I can't, Ayati."

"But-"

"I know what you're going to say: I'm `young', I'm powerful, I'm healthy," she interrupted again. It was an old wound, one that had scarred over and she could ignore, but she hadn't expected the subject to come up. "That doesn't change the reality. There are no children in my future."

"I… I'm sorry…" Ayati looked near to tears at her own insensitivity.

Mallika sighed and rolled her eyes. "Don't turn this around, I'm supposed to be comforting you. My point is that I'm not any less of a witch, or a woman, because of it. Nor are you. You cheat Rahji, too, if you think he'd think less of you because of it."

"Then…" Ayati looked up at her, large eyes in set into a slender face. "Then you think I should let him like me, even when he'll have to lose me eventually? Lose everything of me? Is that something I can do to him, and still say I care about him?"

The older woman's arms tightened around her briefly; the girl had a talent for unknowingly asking questions that stabbed deeply. Mallika fought down a surprising wave of anger and resentment: had anyone ever asked her if it was fair that they wandered through her life so briefly? Friends, lovers, and even enemies she'd buried… swept away by time even as she stood untouched. They sunk barbed hooks into her soul, but did they spare a thought to what happened when those hooks were removed…-

She shook her head. One did, even if she didn't realize it.

"I don't have an answer for you." The girl was leaning against her; her hand rose to smooth her hair, looking ridiculously pale against the waves of ebony. "The only thing I can say is: you can't make someone not love, you can only turn that love into hate. Are you willing to make Rahji hate you? To hurt him so much that he's relieved when you aren't around?" The way Ayati hunched down, pressing against her bosom, was all the answer she needed. "I didn't think so."

"Then… what do I do?"

"Give them good memories. Good ones to drown out the bad. Ask Rahn… he would never give up what he had with his wife just because of what came after."

Ayati pursed her lips, thinking, then nodded. She hugged the witch, who suffered the embrace quietly, feeling the hooks sink a bit deeper.

The two women held each other quietly for a while until Ayati glanced up. "I'm sorry you can't have children."

Mallika rolled her eyes again. "I said not to turn this around. I'm fine, Ayati… I came to terms with it a long time ago. The only reason I told you is to show that I understand." She sniffed dismissively. "Besides, why would I want a baby? They cry all the time, you can't get any sleep."

"I suppose."

"And they pee on you."

Ayati thought for a moment. "And poop."

"And vomit. Ugh, the smell."

"They break things as soon as they're old enough to grab. Mistress Aryakama has had to fix so many of her baskets."

"And they don't do anything! I've never seen a baby fetch water from the well. So lazy."

"They aren't very good at conversation."

"They chew up your nipples." She paused as Ayati made a sound caught between horror and laughter. "What? It's true!"

"I'm glad to say I don't know," she replied between appalled giggles. She sighed. "You're right, babies are awful."

"I know I'm right," Mallika said airily. "Everyone would save so much time if they just realized this."

"And so humble..."

"First Rahn! First Rahn, please come out!" The shouted words were accompanied with a loud pounding on the door of the house, threatening to knock it inward on its pivot. Rahn jerked upward on his mattress, startled awake. He blinked, the half-moon shockingly bright in the sky.

"Father?" Turning, he saw Rahji's eyes glinting in the dim light from the comfort of his own bed. Above them the stars glittered - the two had decided to sleep on the roof that night, the open night sky offering a welcome reprieve from the humidity and heat. They were hardly the only family to do so - on the surrounding rooftops Rahn could see the dark shapes of slumbering bodies, outlined by the soft silver of the moonlight.

"Go back to sleep, Rahji. I'll find out what this is about," he said softly, labouring to his feet. He grumbled as he threw his drape over his shoulders, not bothering to tie back his hair. He poked his head over the edge of the roof, seeing the guard standing at the front door of the house.

"Enough, Kisema. What is it? What's going on?" The guard-captain startled, his head whipping about to look upward, his fist raised to pound again. He held a torch in his other hand, the light casting his worried face in dancing shadows. Rahn squinted, blinking at the moon which sat low in the sky. "Why are you waking me at this hour? What time is it, anyway?"

"The last part of the late watch, sir," Kisema answered, his voice pitched to be heard but not carry too far. "I apologize for waking you, but we have a… situation. The watch guards have arrested a godstouched."

The last sleepiness was banished from Rahn's mind. He kneeled at the edge of the roof. "Did he or she fight back? Curse them?"

"No, sir," the captain replied, and the relief on his face was entirely understandable. Most of the guard were simple men, charged with enforcing the laws of the city, and nearly all were fine upstanding citizens, loyal and brave. But they were charged with enforcing the law for all, and asking men without magic to confront a potentially lawless wizard was a risk that Rahn feared but couldn't shy from. "The man surrendered without issue. It's what we found in his home that's the problem. It was-... We really need you at the citadel."

The guard's stance and tone told Rahn how serious the situation must be. "I'll be right there."

He stood, turning to his son who was watching and listening curiously. "Rahji, I have to go help with this. Get some sleep… I'll be back as soon as I can. If I'm not back by the time Mallika gets here then please let her know what happened."

"Can I come with you?" Rahji asked.

Rahn shook his head. "Not this time. Get some sleep." The young man looked put out, but nodded; Rahn reached over to ruffle the boy's hair, getting the expected token noise of protest and grinning at it.

Sparing only a moment to fetch his wand, he climbed down and was soon walking beside Kisema toward the citadel. It wasn't a long walk, but it was a silent one, since he didn't want to question the captain about specifics while there might be curious ears in the houses and on the rooftops around them. The air was actually reasonably cool compared to the sweltering heat of the days of late, and Rahn found himself not minding the walk.

The citadel was a quiet silhouette with the moon behind it; the guards had lit the braziers that lined the walkway up to the First's chair as well as the torches on the walls. Both the chair and the path were empty, and on one side there was a large blockish shape, covered in a linen cloth. On the opposite side of the room stood two guards surrounding an indignant older man in a dark red robe. The man was slightly older than the First and rail-thin, thoroughly balding and with a long thin beard that had almost entirely turned steel grey.

Rahn squinted as he approached. "Master Durhmada?"

"First Rahn, about damned time," Durhmada growled. "Would you get this sorted out, please?"

"Y-yes, of course," Rahn replied, confused. "As soon as I'm told what `this' is. Captain?"

The guard-captain gestured, leading the First toward the cube shape. "We were investigating a case of grave robbing, sir," he began, his voice quiet. "A citizen paying their respects spotted someone digging and went to fetch us. We confirmed a grave had been opened."

Rahn frowned. "What was stolen?"

"Only the body, sir. All the offerings were left behind." He glanced back at the irate wizard on the other side of the room. "The citizen gave us enough of a description to suspect Master Durhmada, so we went to his home to question him."

Rahn shook his head. "And I'm guessing you found something, else he and I wouldn't be here."

"Yes." Kisema's voice shook slightly, and Rahn looked at him with concern. They were standing next to the linen-covered object, which was as tall as Rahn's waist and just as wide. The captain grasped the cloth and pulled it away. "We found this."

The object was a cage, made of sturdy wood, bound in leather. Rahn knew it as the kind of cage used to hold dangerous animals, like boars or even tigers. Inside was… a thing. Rahn jumped back in fright as it leapt at the bars, one dessicated arm reaching through to claw at him.

"What in the gods-...!"

It took him a moment to calm his suddenly racing heart, and by then a sick fascination had overcome him. He stepped closer, outside the range of the grasping arm; the captain squawked a protest silenced by Rahn's raised hand.

The First stared, fascinated and horrified: the thing was a man - or had been, once. Now it was shrivelled and shrunken, like a date left in the sun. The eyes that looked back at Rahn with mindless fury were grey and cloudy, the bared teeth stained. He almost expected it to spit or drool, but it was too desiccated, its skin visibly cracking in places. The creature continued to claw and grasp at air, and the First was disturbed to hear the wood itself strain from its unholy strength.

He was trying to think of where such a beast could have been captured when he spotted the jewelry that hung from the thing's limp, shrivelled earlobe. A copper earring, nearly torn loose, coated in blood that had dried and crusted, glinted in the torchlight. A tiny blue bead was embedded in the metal, and Rahn's eyes went wide as he recognized it.

He straightened, pausing for a moment to close his eyes and master his emotions. When he turned his voice was flat, although he was intimately aware of the presence of his wand in its small pocket in his dhoti. "The guards found this… thing… in your home, Master Durhmada?"

The old wizard stood straight. He was nearly bald, and his long, white hair tangled with his long beard at the level of his chin. His eyes were clear despite his age, and he looked back at Rahn with a gaze that showed his annoyance. "Yes, it belongs to me."

"`It'. Care to explain what `it' is?"

"I have not named it… it's part of my experimentation. I'm not yet finished, and I don't feel it necessary to explain my spellwork to anyone."

"You stand accused of grave robbing. You will explain that!"

"By who?" Durhmada demanded, chin thrust forward. "What grave did I rob, and who accuses me?"

Rahn couldn't recall ever being so angry. "I am your accuser, Durhmada! I recognize this man!" He gestured behind him, at the silent cage. "This is Udyaka, a farmer, who came to me complaining of pain in his chest and difficulty breathing. I was able to do little other than ease his pain. I was there when he passed, and now I find him here… lacking his mind, and his body animated by your magics!"

Durhmada's brief astonished look clearly said that he hadn't expected to be caught so plainly. He rallied quickly. "You were not the only one he came to seeking treatment for his illness. He volunteered for my experiments, in hopes that I could cure him. And I have!"

"You call this `cured'?" Rahn asked incredulously, his eyes bulging, gesturing at the crouched, shrivelled shape in the cage.

"Yes! The mindlessness is temporary, a mere side effect, one that I labour to remove with the assistance of Master Udyaka! He came to me, Rahn! He knew you couldn't save him, so it fell to me."

"I doubt he had any idea this is what you were going to do to him!" he replied, still livid. He pressed his hands to his temples, fought down the urge to shout. "What… what were you trying to accomplish with this?" he questioned with forced calm. "And don't tell me you've cured him, Durhmada, because there's nothing left of him in there to be cured!"

"And how do you know that?" the old wizard countered. "He's confused, yes, but it's the confusion of waking from a deep sleep! The deepest sleep! His mind is in there, I merely need to coax it out. Which I could do without you and your men distracting me from my work!" He gestured imperiously. "Death is a poison, Rahn… it must be allowed to progress, flushed through the body, so that the victim emerges from the other side! It is traumatic, I do not deny, but I believe he will be stronger for it… he will have gained an immunity to that which we all fear!"

Durhmada was looking at the warped shape contained in the cage, his eyes glittering with wonder rather than horror. Rahn was appalled, and not just because of what the old wizard had done… but because he actually seemed to believe what he said. He was tempted to sentence him then and there, but the First was a man of reason, a man of evidence. He had his own magics, and means of obtaining evidence. "If there is a mind in that body, then I'll find it. And you'd best pray to the gods that I do."

He turned, lifting his wand as he approached the cage. The creature inside - Rahn refused to think of it as a man - hissed and reached for him fruitlessly through the bars as he pointed his wand at it, staring at its cloudy eyes. "Legilimens!"

Mallika's mind had offered resistance, he realized… and he only knew this because the creature's offered absolutely none. It was like stepping off a stair to a platform that wasn't there; he staggered, very nearly falling into range of the creature's grip, and it was only thanks to the Kisema next to him that he didn't, the big man catching him as he nearly fell to his knees. The creature's mind was blank, devoid of memory… it didn't even remember where it was, or how it had gotten there. Rahn might as well have been trying to grip the mind of a stone. Or a corpse.

"First Rahn?" the captain asked with concern.

He straightened on his feet, wordless nodding at the guard, letting him know he was fine. Physically, at any rate - his anger had returned with a vengeance. "Nothing. There's nothing… no one… in there."

"What?" Durhmada demanded, incredulous. "How can you know that? What was that spell?"

"You're not the only wizard in Karmanapura who can devise new magic, Durhmada," Rahn snapped, only barely resisting the urge to start shouting. "That was my mind-linking spell. A spell that found nothing in this… homunculus to link to!"

"What? How-"

"I'll explain my magic when you explain yours. Tell me what you've done to this man, so that I might undo it. You've perverted the gods' order. How can this man's soul find peace, when his body, his connection to the mortal world, wanders loose at your whim? Tell me how to undo it!"

Durhmada's face paled, but he straightened, squaring his shoulders. "No. I won't let you destroy my work."

"Your work? This isn't work, this is blasphemy! The gods give and take life! Using their gifts to usurp them… this is a mockery of everything we stand for!"

The old wizard's face was as hard as stone in the flickering torchlight, and Rahn saw he was just as unlikely to yield. Fine… if the old man refused to explain his dark magics, Rahn would take the answers he needed! His memories would contain the spellwork, and all the First had to do was look at them. He lifted his wand-

No.

No, what was he doing? He'd created the spell to heal, not to pilfer through other people's memories like a thief through a coin purse! Memory was the most fundamental building block of a person's being, and violating it without permission was as violent and as detestable as any abuse of the flesh. That was a path Rahn would not walk, no matter how expedient a path it may be toward justice. He forced his wand down, trying not to delight in the hints of fear on Durhmada's face; the wizard was not stupid, and he'd figured it what it meant if Rahn really possessed the kind of mind magics he claimed. It made the temptation all the worse, because it was evidence that the man was hiding something.

"Captain," Rahn ground out. "I need you to fetch Mistress Mallika."

It didn't take long for Kisema to fetch the witch. Although Mallika had little desire to stand out, everyone in Karmanapura knew of the temperamental pale witch from the far west, the traveller and sometimes-assistant to both Rahn and the city wandmaker. The captain needed no directions to find her home. When the guard arrived with her in tow, the First was relieved to see that she didn't appear angry at being woken so early… the Kemetic witch still treasured her sleep. She'd clearly simply thrown on her robe and grabbed her wand at the captain's summons - her long, dark hair was in disarray, and she was barefoot instead of wearing her preferred leather thongs.

"First Rahn? You summoned me?" Her tone was respectful and yet politely detached; he could have hugged her for it.

"You call for an outlander to judge me, Rahn?" snapped Durhmada. "Can't you make your own decisions?" Mallika's jaw clenched at the disrespect, but she was spared saying anything as the guard behind the old wizard gave him an ungentle shove.

Rahn chose to ignore the comment. "I need you to look at something," he said quietly. "I don't know how to handle it, but I'm hoping you might." Her gaze slipped sideways at the fuming old man, a silent question. "No, not him… I've already made my judgement when it comes to him. It's for what he's done that I need advice."

Her eyebrow rose in concern, but she followed as he lead her toward the cage, once again covered in cloth. Ostensibly it was to silence the creature, but Rahn knew the truth: none of the men, himself included, was comfortable being able to see the twisted remnant of humanity inside.

"Brace yourself," he advised quietly. Then he pulled the cloth off.

The ancient witch nearly launched herself backwards, so violently did she react to the sight of the furious, hissing thing inside the cage. Her eyes widened in horror, a gasp of fright issuing from her open mouth. Her wand was in her hand and pointed instantly, and Rahn quickly stepped away from the cage just in case she should take to blowing it apart. "Inferius!" she hissed.

"`Inferius'?" Rahn repeated. "Mallika, do you know what this thing is?"

"No, I… Yes?" She muttered a string of profanities in Kemetic, the First familiar enough with some of the words to pick out the general meaning (it sounded physically impossible… but then, she was a rather powerful witch…) "I know of it, but I do not remember how."

"Can he be saved?"

She looked at him, eyes wide. "Saved?"

"Yes, saved. This was once a man, Mallika… a simple man, but a good man. Is he anywhere in there? Can he be… brought out?"

She blinked at him and then looked at the cage… seeing the creature inside not just as a thing, but as the remains of someone who had once been living, who still had family in the world. "No," she said. "I don't believe so. This is just a body, a body without a soul. The spark of life has been imitated by clumsy magic, not… revived. Without that, there's nothing left but the most base of our natures… to fight, to feed."

"What should I do with it?" he asked softly. He could see that she was strongly affected by the mockery of life in front of her.

"In… in Kemet, it is believed that when the body dies, the soul leaves behind the mind and body. By preparing the body properly, the mind can be released from it, to rejoin the soul. Like the sun, the mind and soul return to the body at night to rest, then rise again in the morning." She shook her head. "If that is true, then there is no way this man's soul could recognize what has become of his body. He cannot return. He is lost." She paused, then made a scoffing sound. "Of course, they believe only the King, as a descendant of the gods, can do this on his own. Only by faithful service to him will he bring along the souls of the peasants."

"I take it this is not what you believe."

"No, there are no kings or peasants on the other side of death. A place of silver light… a strange room, merely a step toward the next adventure. What that adventure entails, I do not know." Her words were so sure that it shook him, and he wanted to ask how she - an ageless being - could know what lay beyond the Veil. She spoke again, her voice harder, "But whether his spirit returns or not, he would be humiliated at what has been done to his form while he was absent."

Rahn nodded. "Then… can you dispose of it?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. She gently pushed him back, lifting her wand. Fire erupted from the tip, surging forward to wrap around the cage.

"Wha-… no! What are you doing?" Durhmada cried. He tried to leap toward them in defence of his profane creation, but the captain and the other guard seized him by the arms, shoving him back. "No!"

Flame roiled around the cage, brighter and hotter than any fire Rahn had ever witnessed. The shape inside could barely be seen, and it was all the more horrific in that the creature never once cried out… as if it lacked even the basic animal awareness that it was being hurt. It still tried to claw for them, futilely grasping between the bars, until a tongue of flame reached out to wrap around its limbs and drag them into the center of the inferno. The heat grew and grew, chasing away the meagre relief of the night; Rahn was driven back further and further until he was nearly pressed against the wall on the opposite side of the room with the others. When Mallika was done she began flicking her wand, scattering away licks of flame, whittling the fireball down bit by bit until it was nothing more than a tiny light, which extinguished with a hiss as she brought her wand down in a swatting motion. All that was left was a pile of ash, even the wooden cage having been consumed, and with a swirling movement and a muttered "Evanesco", even that was gone.

"No…" Durhmada breathed. His face twisted in fury. "You outlander bitch! How dare you!" Mallika spun, and Rahn knew Durhmada was mere words from joining his experiment.

He stepped in between the pair before that could happen. "Master Durhmada, I find you guilty of desecrating the graves of the dead. Were that the extent of your offence, I would consider compensating Udyaka's family justice enough. But it's obvious to me that you have no regret for what you've done, and I'm certain you'll do it again." The old wizard's clenching jaw was all the confirmation he needed. He jabbed a finger at the ground. "But not in this city."

Durhmada's mouth fell open, but no sound came out. Rahn turned to the three guards. "Captain, you and the others will escort Master Durhmada to the border. He is permitted to collect his things from his home, but he is not to receive his wand back until he is delivered outside these lands. Understood?"

"Understood, First."

"Exile?" Durhmada nearly screeched. "You're exiling me? For returning a man to life?"

"I'm exiling you for using a dead man's body in a gross mockery of his life! I'm exiling you for being incapable of realizing it! Now get out!"

The guards took Durhmada by the arms, pulling him toward the door. At the threshold the old wizard shook himself loose, turning to glare at Rahn. "I'll succeed, Rahn, I promise you. But you needn't worry about seeing me again… no, if you adore death so much, then you can have it. When I've saved us all from the gods' capriciousness, the people will remember you as the one who tried to hold me back… if they remember you at all!"

Rahn held up a hand to hold back Mallika before she could start flinging curses. Durhmada deserved no words, so he merely flicked his fingers at the guards, who seized the wizard and dragged him out into the night. In the relieved silence that followed, he turned to look at his friend - who seemed far more affected by the taunts than he himself had been.

"Are you well?" he asked softly.

She glanced at him before answering. "I'm fine. I'm simply… tired."

"Then you should go home and sleep. I think I'll do the same. We won't worry about the morning exercises this one time."

"Well, at least something good came of this," she replied, a weak smirk on her face. She slipped her wand into a pocket on her robes, and walked to the exit from the room.

At the threshold - where Durhmada made his foolish promise moments before - she paused and turned. "I will remember you. For however long I live, I will remember you, and they will be good memories. That man was a fool."

Rahn smiled. "I believe you."

Rahji was surprised when Father cancelled their stretching and exercises that morning. He was still unsure what had happened, but when his father had come home he'd crawled right back onto his mattress and gone to sleep. When the young man had tried to rouse him come the dawn he'd just sleepily waved him off, saying he and Mallika had agreed to skip it for that day.

So now Rahji was awake, and had nothing to do. He crouched on the roof of the house, his chin in his hand as he watched the brightening eastern sky, pondering how to occupy himself. He was still confined to the house, his father was sleeping in, and apparently Mallika had been awake last night as well! He was burning with curiosity, but he wasn't willing to rouse his father just to demand answers… it'd be a long while before Rahji felt like testing his limits again.

It occurred to him: why not just exercise by himself? He'd been doing it for years and knew it all by heart. Pleased with the idea of proving his dutifulness and his independence at the same time, Rahji stood and carefully skirted his father's sleeping figure, making his way down to the courtyard.

Following his normal routine was actually rather pleasant. Father had said the exercises were more about working the spirit than the body, and now in the silence Rahji realized what he meant.

He was in the middle of one of the stretches - a difficult pose, where he was resting on his shoulders with his legs up over his head while his hands were clasped behind him (his father was actually somewhat jealous that Rahji could bend so easily) - when Ayati's voice interrupted him. "Hello, Rahji!"

He was startled enough that he lost his balance, flipping over and flopping onto his belly. Ayati eeped and then began giggling, covering her face as little squeaks escaped her. Rahji was blushing hard enough it felt like his face might catch fire as he climbed to his feet.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she apologized as soon as she was able to speak.

"You didn't scare me, I just wasn't expecting you," he protested.

"Oh, of course."

"Did you need to talk to Father? He's asleep, but I can go get him-"

She held up a hand. "No, no… I just came to visit. We haven't really had a chance to talk since the… well, the market thing. I thought you'd be up, and I was right."

He peered over her shoulder, not seeing the expected third person. "Is Mistress Mallika with you?"

She shook her head. "No, she's sleeping in."

"You walked here all by yourself?" She frowned, and he hurried to clarify, "I-I just meant… why not get some extra sleep, too?"

She crossed her arms. "Probably for the same reason you didn't… I was bored. Mallika is still asleep, too."

"Really? Father said she might be." His voice dropped to a near-whisper, even though there was no one to overhear. "What do you think happened?"

Ayati shrugged. "I don't know, I didn't ask. I know she was upset when she came back home… it took her a long time to get back to sleep."

"Mallika gets upset?" he blurted before he could stop himself.

She stifled another giggle. "Of course she does, silly." She paused, then fixed him with a meaningful look. "But she's like you… she hides what she's feeling."

The way she said it made Rahji freeze, eyes white plates in the dim light of the morning. "Wha-..." He lost his voice a moment later as Ayati stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. He very nearly forgot how to breathe; Ayati liked to hug people, but this time it felt different. It was hard not to think about how beautiful she was becoming (and suppress the embarrassing physical reaction...) He knew his father liked women with weight and curves, like his mother, but to Rahji perfection would always be willowy and delicate and clad in yellow, like a butterfly's wing.

"Thank you for protecting me, Rahji," she murmured against his chest. She stepped away, looking at him; then her hand arced in, swatting him upside the head. "But don't do it again. Getting yourself in trouble is stupid."

He didn't rub his head where she'd smacked him… he felt oddly better for it, like it was long overdue. "I'll always be there for you," he replied softly.

He was rewarded with a smile, her dark eyes gazing up at him. "I know," she said.

She looked at him, and she seemed to be struggling with a decision; then she stood on her toes, giving him a quick and gentle kiss. Not on the cheek as she usually did, but on the lips. It was sweet and innocent, but also held a promise for the future. She stepped away, both of them suddenly bashful. It was Ayati who recovered first, tugging nervously at her sari.

"S-so… do you think there's any chance we could get Rahn and Mallika together?" she asked. Her eyes were wide, twinkling like some amazing idea had just struck her. "She could be your stepmother!"

His eyes went wide with horror. "Don't even joke about that!"