AN: I won't bore you with my excuses... needless to say, I'd hoped to have the entire arc done by now. But I'll post this part (more stage-setting) before I chicken out again.

A large grey cloud floated across the sky as Rahn and Mallika sat together on the stair that surrounded the courtyard of his home, enjoying the quiet of the early morning. On the other side of the walls they could hear the city beginning to wake and shift as the citizens began their days; already Rahji had dashed off to Sakah's home to take his lessons there. The few servants that helped take care of Rahn's home were bustling about inside - honouring his request that he and his foreign visitor be left in peace, well-used to their employer's slightly odd ways. The air was calm and had a chill to it from the winter season, but it was pleasant after their labours a little while beforehand.

Mallika had obtained clothes that were better for moving and stretching in: a linen wrap around her torso and a short dhoti, wrapped tightly around her upper legs, both dyed a deep red. The masculine garment would normally earn her odd looks, but she simply wore a long sari over the ensemble as she travelled to and from his home. He'd learned that the foreign witch had little time or patience for arbitrary rules that divided the sexes, and while she liked looking good, functionality always came first. The loose pants were better for their practices, so she wore them… it was as simple as that.

Each morning for the past two seasons had followed the same pattern: morning exercises followed by slowly, carefully picking through the memories that Mallika had retained. The witch was calm and relaxed after their sessions, and Rahn had noted that her grogginess and unvoiced annoyance at the early hours had tapered off. Whether it was an effect of the exercises or simply because Rahn was delivering on his promise to put real effort into investigating her memory problems, he didn't know. In the end, it didn't matter.

"-... He was quite tall, very broad in the shoulders," she said. "He had a scar along one leg, from an accident when training with spears when a teenager… his father asked me to treat it when it became infected. A very small infection, not dangerous, but his father didn't want to risk. It was not his first or last injury… he was a very active man, not lazy."

"And he was the one to unite the lands of Kemet?"

"Not directly. He believed it could be done, and made it his life's… eh… ambition? Yes, ambition. But Kemet is very large, and it was too much for one lifetime." Rahn nodded, and with a twitch of his wand a few small symbols etched themselves onto the terracotta tablet sitting on the ground in front of him.

The notes he made tested the limits of the glyphs he knew, but having Mallika describe the people she knew in the distant past using their physical features allowed him to use the symbols he'd invented himself for the purposes of healing. Under his wand the symbols for "leg" and "scar" scraped themselves into the ceramic, along with the falcon-and-mouth pictograph Mallika had shown him that was the ancient king's name, Iry-Hor. Using his wand let him write the symbols smaller than would normally be possible, but even still he already had a dozen such tablets - initially sparsely filled, but one could track Mallika's improving grasp of the local tongue as the newer notes became more and more densely packed with angular cuneiform.

Thank the gods for magic… he couldn't imagine needing to write as the muggles did: scratching onto the tablets while they were still wet, hoping the glyphs didn't smear before they dried and that the fragile surfaces didn't shatter afterward. Rahn had built up a sizeable stack of tablets of his own, enough that a levitation charm was needed to move them around. Thankfully they were also charmed for durability, else the stack would have crumbled years ago. Mallika had told him that in Kemet they used the fibers of a plant called papyrus to write on, which sounded far superior… unfortunately, there were none to be found around Karmanapura.

"So, he wasn't the king who accomplished the unification," he remarked. "What about him makes him stand out in your mind? Why is he special?"

"Well… I had sex with him."

Whatever symbol Rahn had intended to etch disappeared as he accidentally drilled a hole straight through the tablet. A puff of dust rose filled the air, the reddish-brown wisp seeming to blush along with the wizard. He waved it away, giving it blame for his sudden cough.

"Y-yes, I can see why he'd stand out," he stammered, his face flushing. He wasn't aware her vocabulary had expanded to include such words. "Then, you were like a stepmother to Ka? Or was this before he met his wife?"

"Oh, no… she was there."

Don't ask, don't ask… "She was… there?" Damn!

"Yes, it was her idea." Mallika's gaze was distant, and a wistful smile graced her face. "Rai was very attractive, very bold. I think it was her boldness in asking me - me! - that convinced me." She shrugged, her expression turning rueful. "Eventually her boldness would ruin their bond - Iry was very proud, and had very specific ideas of how a woman should act, limits Rai found insulting. But at the time it was new and," she struggled for a word, and not just because of the language differences, "interesting. Certainly he did not complain at the time."

A scandalous part of Rahn wanted to ask for more details, but he forcefully reminded himself that that angle of inquiry wasn't relevant. Still, he entire point of these reminiscences with her were to explore the edge of what she could remember, and any thread she followed - no matter how unexpected - was welcome. Over the previous weeks Rahn had been working backwards through the rulers she knew, asking minor questions about each, seemingly with little connection or order, but mainly concentrating on what made each person interesting… or memorable.

Doing so, Rahn had learned - and noted - that the furthest borders of Mallika's memories made for a blurred, fuzzy line… not a sharp one. There was no fixed time that marked the limit of what she could remember, but at a certain point the chance of her remembering something dropped sharply. She wasn't able to remember Iry-Hor's parents at all, so instead he'd doubled back, asking about the son. It was like exploring strange lands - sometimes a path would be blocked, so he'd fall back to follow another, occasionally finding himself on the other side of the obstacle that had halted him the first place.

Rahn had always loved exploring in his youth.

He hadn't expected the conversation to take such turn, but if he'd learned anything over the previous half year, it was that for Mallika to call something or someone "interesting" was high praise indeed. Anything like that was something to ask about, in the hopes of further defining the fuzzy edge of her amnesia.

"So this Rai was… ah… adventurous. What else was she like?"

Mallika thought for a moment. "She was small, no taller than Rahji... and delicate, but she did not act like so. Her hair was long, and she braided it like I do, and her skin was dark. She did not like stupidity."

"Were her parents important, for Iry-Hor to choose her as his queen?"

"She was very beautiful, so he did not need convincing. But she was also the daughter of two magicals… godstouched. She did not have magic, but it has been noticed that the chance of magical children is more likely in families with magic already, and they had no other daughters. They hoped to add magic to the line of kings."

"We've noticed the same," Rahn commented. He held his own opinion on the matter - he did not approve of breeding humans the way one might breed livestock, and he would not have loved Rahji any less had he never shown the gift of magic. "So her parents were magical? Did you teach them yourself?"

"Her mother Itet, yes. Not her father. Ahunu was a wizard from the lands of the Ta-Seti, to the south. They had their own magics and a kingdom of their own. They were noble and sophisticated, like Karmanapura." She gave him a glance as she delivered the subtle compliment, and he smiled. Her eyes slightly unfocused as she remembered, but she showed none of the strain or frustration she would get when she reached for memories denied her. "He was an excellent duelist. Training with him was… eh, exciting, like exercise?"

"Invigorating."

"Yes, good word."

Rahn nodded, making another note. He kept his expression neutral even as his fingers tightened around his wand. It was further back than she'd ever remembered before, and he doubted she even realized it. He kept his voice light as he raised an eyebrow. "Did you make him duel you for the right to marry your student?"

She made a scoffing sound. "Itet was not my student by then, so it was not my place. He had to duel her. I worried he would hurt her… or that he would coddle her and thus she would hurt him. In the end it was… it was…" He looked over and saw the familiar struggle on her face, and knew she'd reached her limit. She leaned forward, sighing, and rested her elbows on her knees as she looked at the ground between her feet. "I do not remember who won that duel."

He said nothing, merely etching a few last symbols on his tablet. As soon as the last finished carving, he flicked his wand and let the sheet of terracotta float over to lean against the wall. Beside him, Mallika leaned her face in her hands, blankly staring over her steepled fingers. The sun was beginning to peek over the roof, the light streaming down onto the well across the courtyard. Rahn had an urge to stand and walk over and soak up some of the heat.

Instead he glanced at his companion. "Well, if your friend Rai was the result, I'd say they both won."

Mallika was startled into a laugh. "Yes, that is true." A hint of fondness was in her voice, and he suspected that - ages aside - the two had been good friends.

They chatted a while longer about easier, more contemporary things. She'd gotten a job helping Catanya, learning the difficult art of crafting wands, and Rahn had his usual tasks of being both the First and the city's most prominent healer. He entertained her with a tale of treating the injured leg of an old farmer, who'd hurt himself while (ahem) engaged with his wife - both were nearly as old as Sakah, and Rahn had been delighted that even at their age their bond was so… vigorous.

He was describing the hilariously awkward task of advising them to perhaps not be quite so vigorous when he was interrupted by the sound of running feet. "Father! Father!"

Rah leapt to his feet even as his heart jumped into his throat at the panicked tone in his son's voice. "Rahji! What is it?"

The boy skidded to a halt in the doorway to the courtyard. His face was pale, and his chest heaved from both exertion and fright. "Come quickly!" He swallowed. "It's Ayati!"

The amount of foot traffic tended to be light in the upper, wealthier part of Karmanapura, especially in the early morning, so the number of people who had to jump out of the way of the running three were few. Sakah's home was only one street away, and neither Rahji nor his father slowed as they bolted through the open door.

Magical wards - less powerful than Mallika's own but still enchanted by a skilled hand - played lightly across their skin as they rushed inside. Long-familiar with his friend's home, Rahn headed straight to the room where Sakah and Ayati slept, Mallika and Rahji on his heels. Inside they found the old man kneeling over his insensate granddaughter on her cot, distress written on his wrinkled face. He had his wand out, fruitlessly casting healing and revival charms.

His head jerked toward them as they bulled into the room. "Rahn! Rahn… s-she collapsed at breakfast. I used your potion, but it didn't work, and I've been trying all the healing spells I know-" Sakah's voice wavered between calm and desperate, the wizard battling fear as tragedy hunted inside his own home. He pulled back his wand, getting out of the First's way, but a sharp eye could see how his hand shook.

Rahn moved over to kneel next to where Ayati lay on her cot. Her skin was tinged grey, and deep, dark circles surrounded her eyes; she still breathed, but those breaths rasped in her chest. He instinctively took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, her delicate fingers feeling like ice. He leaned down to press his ear against her chest. There it was: the beat of her heart, but the sound was weak… uneven and thready.

"Please help her, Father," Rahji pleaded.

Mallika gripped the boy's shoulder gently. "He will do what he can, but he needs quiet to think, Rahji. Stand here," she instructed. Rahn briefly considered asking her to take him out of the room, but knew that if Ayati were to pass, his son had the right to be nearby to say goodbye. Putting that thought out of his head he lifted his wand, tracing the motions of a spell over his hand and Ayati's chest.

It was a very dark spell… at least, it was intended to be. It had been taught to him by a wizard of Ur, a despicable person who had killed a man with that very same spell, crushing the muggle's heart within his chest. Unfortunately, both the wizard's own testimony and that of witnesses had agreed that the dead man had attacked with deadly intent first, and the wizard had merely defended himself. Being cheerful about killing someone was not, in itself, a crime, and Rahn had been forced to judge in the wizard's favour.

However, he'd demanded the man teach him the spell as part of his release; the Sumerian had done so, only too happy to spread magic easily used against muggles. Rahn had grasped the spell with relative ease (and a faint feeling of contamination, though he never practiced on a live subject as the other wizard seemed keen for him to do). Then he'd sent the man away. If the Sumerian thought he'd given Rahn a method to kill, the First hoped he would be extremely disappointed in how he actually used the magic.

Ghostly warmth spread across the fingers of the empty hand he held over the girl's chest. With it came a pulsing sensation, as though something flexed in his palm, invisible but tangible. Equally ghostlike, intangible fingers reached into Ayati's chest, wrapping themselves around the traitorous organ that was killing her, relaying the sensation to Rahn.

Through the miracle of magic, the First held the little girl's heart in his hand.

He despaired at what touch alone told him. Rahn had used the spell on living beings exactly three times previously, once on Ayati herself, and he knew from those experiences and his own studies that a normally-functioning heart was not supposed to feel like the one he held. Her heart twitched in his hand like a wounded animal, small and frail and desperate; it had always felt slightly too small for even such a small girl, and it struggled to supply enough blood to the rest of her… only worsening as she had grown. Now it seemed that it had finally collapsed under the strain, unable to keep up with the demands required of it.

His - and her - only hope was that with a little assistance it could recover. Far more gently than the spell's creator had ever envisioned, Rahn squeezed the twitching, invisible organ, then released it. Within her chest, the magic imitated the motion. He shifted his fingers and repeated the soft squeeze, shifting back to do it again, manually pumping Ayati's heart for her, again and again. After a few minutes it was possible to see the girl's colour improve, although she still looked dire.

"Sakah, give her a dose," he instructed, never ceasing the motion of his hands. The old man hurried to obey, the hand holding the ceramic pot shaking but his wand-hand moving with swift, sure motions. Within was a potion of Rahn's own devising, a magical concentrate made from herbs with renewing and energizing properties, brewed far more strongly than would ever be wise to consume under normal circumstances. A tendril of liquid rose to dangle from the tip of Sakah's wand, looking like a thin, transparent earthworm. He guided the strand of potion over to Ayati's mouth, gently opening her lips to drop it in, letting his magic guide it down her throat.

The effects were immediate. Ayati's skin flushed to a more healthy colour, and Rahn felt her heart clench in his hand… once, then twice. He stopped the massage, hoping her heart would continue on its own… but after those two hopeful pumps it merely lay in his simulated palm, unmoving until he took over again. Twice more they tried, and each time the girl's body failed to sustain itself. Sakah offered what help he could, casting spells of healing and revival, but Ayati remained stubbornly, dreadfully still.

Rahn's hand was beginning to cramp. Sakah's face was ashen - he didn't need to be told by the other man what was about to happen… what had perhaps already happened. The healer looked over at his son, who watched the scene in tears while behind him the immortal witch stood... her face expressionless, but the knuckles of her hand white where they rested on the boy's shoulder.

"Her heart can't sustain her," Rahn rasped, his throat tight. "Rahji, you… you should come hold her hand." Come say goodbye.

The boy darted forward, pulling from Mallika's grip. The witch was left holding empty air until she clenched a fist at her side. She looked down at her feet, and then up to where the dying girl was surrounded by the others. Her face fell, and she seemed to struggle with some internal argument. After a moment she came to a silent decision.

She walked quickly over to the open shutter of the window. "Do not stop."

Rahn watched her with confusion. "Mallika, I don't have the magic to heal her-"

"You do not stop." And that was Wadjet, pure and simple, her tone and the look she gave him making it clear that she would not be disobeyed.

She turned back to the open window and whistled… three crystalline notes that rang out across Karmanapura like birdsong. Rahn was so stunned that he almost forgot to work Ayati's heart. Mallika waited a moment and then repeated the call. He had no idea what she was doing, but yet he couldn't help but hope that she was going to surprise them all again with some Kemetic magic they couldn't imagine.

And surprise them she did, as a red and gold bird alighted upon the edge of the window. Rahn had a moment of puzzlement before he recognized the creature, his mouth falling open. He'd never seen one with his own eyes before, but every witch or wizard knew of these powerful, magical creatures: A phoenix!

Bird and witch looked at each other for a moment, then she stepped aside to let it see the dying little girl and the three desperate wizards, a wordless plea.

The phoenix looked at them, twisting its head to regard them out of intelligent, golden eyes. It saw Ayati lying still on the cot, Rahn working feverishly over her - his hand starting to go numb - and its head dipped in sympathy. It looked up at Mallika and trilled a few solemn notes. Her response came in sharp, growling Kemetic… but then she closed her eyes, mastering her temper, and when she spoke again it was almost pleading. The phoenix bobbed its head again, chirping a few more notes, but the tone - if a bird could be said to have a tone of voice! - was more assenting.

The magical creature fluttered down to settle on the cot next to Ayati's head, a nearly glowing presence in the shadowed light. Sakah, as astonished as any of them, nearly fell over as he made room. The phoenix looked down at the girl, and then at Rahn, who continued to keep her heart moving. For a moment the First was nervous… the tales he'd heard about phoenixes had made them out as intensely good, and the spell he was currently working was - technically - dark magic. But the creature gave him a look that seemed almost… approving?

"Rahji, please… give us room," Mallika said, gently guiding the boy to the other side of his father. She kneeled down in his place, beside Rahn, with Ayati's head between her and the phoenix, her pale knees bare against the dusty floor.

The bird looked up at her and chirped once. She held out two tightly-pressed fingers, just below its beak. As the three men watched a tear gathered in the phoenix's eye, and it tilted its head to let the drop fall onto the witch's hand. It rolled in the crease of her fingers like a round crystal, clear and glistening, and it seemed to be lit from within with holy light… more precious than any of the potions in all the world.

Mallika held the drop carefully. She tilted the girl's mouth open, and then let the tear roll down her tongue.

For long moments nothing happened. Ayati's colour did not improve, her eyes did not open, and Rahn continued to work the heart that would not work itself. His forearm burned from the effort, and he feared his numb fingers might soon accidentally grip too hard, puncturing the frail muscle as easily as a spear. Then, in a moment when he paused to rest his tingling hand, he felt Ayati's heart surge.

He drew a hopeful breath, holding his hand still... and felt her do it again.

It was hesitant and uneven, like the heart was only just remembering how to operate, like a newborn calf climbing clumsily to its feet. But within moments he felt it gain strength and rhythm, until the organ almost seemed to swat at his magical hand… telling him to get out of the way, it had work to do! Gently he let the spell lapse, the phantom sensations fading away like the morning mist. Rahn let his hand rest in his lap, unsure he even had the strength to move his fingers.

Ayati shifted a little on her cot, sighing gently in her sleep.

The sound broke Sakah. A wrinkled hand pressed against his mouth, and the tears he'd been holding back during the crisis began to fall. "It worked," he breathed.

"It… seems so," Rahn said hesitantly. He'd been so prepared to see the little girl pass into the hands of the gods, and now he felt ashamed that he'd given up so soon. At the same time he knew it wouldn't have ended any different if not for their unusual visitor… and her unusual friend.

"She… she is cured?" the older man asked through his tears, wondrous joy in his voice. He clutched the little girl's hand tightly, like she would slip away from him at any second.

Rahn and Mallika looked at each other, and though he'd already suspected the answer he still felt his stomach drop as she quietly shook her head. The phoenix still stood on the cot, watching the humans talk… and it obviously understood them perfectly as it crooned a mournful note. "No… not cured, Sakah. I am sorry," Mallika said.

The older man was astonished, his jaw dropping as he struggled to understand. "But… she's here… you saved her!"

"We undid the damage that was killing her," Rahn said. "But the cause… the cause is still there." Sakah looked back and forth between them, confused and denying.

"She is healed, but not cured," Mallika said. "Phoenix tears can do much: cure any disease, heal any wound. But they cannot make your muscles stronger, eyes sharper, or bones stronger. Ayati's sickness… comes from inside."

"Her heart is weak, Sakah," Rahn added softly. The old man's face was paling, and the First felt wretched stealing his friend's joy out from under him. "It has to work twice as hard as yours or mine. Today, it could no longer take the strain... and it failed. It's healed now, with new energy, and she'll feel better than she ever has. But the problem is still there - her heart will tire again, and as she grows…"

He didn't finish the sentence. Sakah wasn't stupid, and already understood what was being said. The old man looked down at his granddaughter, his lips pressed into a thin line. His hand was clenched around his wand almost hard enough to snap it, and Rahn could see the anger washing through the wizard - anger at the unfairness of it all, at the capriciousness of the gods. But Sakah was old and wise… he hardly needed to be told that the world was not fair. He closed his eyes, squeezing away the last of his joyful tears along with the anger, and nodded once.

When he opened his eyes again they were resigned but clear. "I understand," he rasped. He looked at the phoenix and bowed his head respectfully. "I won't be ungrateful. Every moment with her from now on is a gift, and I will forever be indebted to you. Thank you." The bird nodded its head in return, trilling a few notes which filled the room and seemed to chase away some of the shadow. Then it hopped into the air, fluttering out through the window.

The room was silent. Mallika laid a hand on Sakah's shoulder, and though she was as stern as ever there was a deep understanding in the way she looked at the elderly man. Rahn realized out of all of them, she would know best how the old Master was feeling.

Sakah turned to Rahji, who had watched in confusion as hope had risen only to be dashed again, upset as his dear friend was healed and doomed in the same moment. "I'm sorry, Rahji… I don't think I'll be able to concentrate on your lessons today. Do you mind if we pick them up again tomorrow?"

"O-of course, Master," the boy answered, his voice rough. "Can… can I stay with her?"

"No," Rahn said gently, shaking his head. He lifted a hand to forestall the boy's squawk of protest. "Let her rest, Rahji. Sakah will take care of her. She should be awake tomorrow… you can talk to her then." Rahji's shoulders slumped.

"I need potions ingredients," Mallika announced suddenly. Her eyes flicked between Rahji and his father. "He can come with me… he can help, as he knows the lands here better than I."

"That's a good idea." He forced a smile as he patted the boy's shoulder. "Something to do, and good practice besides. Run home and fetch your carrying bag, Rahji."

"Yes, Father," the boy answered sullenly. He stood with obvious reluctance, and after casting a last look at the sleeping girl, left the room.

Rahn stood as well, his knees protesting from kneeling so long on the hard brick. His hand had regained feeling, although he suspected he'd be sore until the next day. "I'll bring some lunch to you later, Sakah."

"Thank you, Rahn, but I'm fine-"

"No, you're not," he answered flatly. "I'm your healer and your friend, and I'm going to make sure you eat."

Sakah chuckled ruefully. "You sound more like my wife."

"There are worse examples to follow. I'll see you later. You try to rest too, if you can." The old man nodded, although no one expected him to actually follow the advice. Rahn and Mallika quietly filed out of the room.

They left the house and stepped into the open alley. Sakah, as one of the oldest and most respected godstouched in Karmanapura, owned one of the more opulent homes in the city. The alley around it was wide enough to have grasses growing on either side that weren't stomped flat by foot traffic, and the house itself was set on a knee-high brick terrace with sloped sides. Rahn sat down on on it, his energy draining away, his bare feet ruffling the grass.

Mallika sat down beside him, pulling her knees up to her chest and letting her feet rest against the brick. Rahn spared a moment to think that she probably wouldn't have been able to do so when they'd first met, but the morning exercises had helped a good deal. The sun was still climbing into the sky, and soon she'd be insisting on changing out of her scarlet dhoti… despite coming from a much brighter and hotter land, she had a strong dislike of getting too much sun.

The two sat in shared silence for long moments, simply resting from the unexpected physical and emotional trial. Mallika noticed the way he was flexing his hand, surprising him by reaching over to seize it and massage it with both of her own - she wasn't inclined to touch or be touched. Nonetheless her fingers were strong and nimble and soon worked out the knots and kinks that persisted in his palm and forearm.

"That was a very clever use of the heart-grasp spell," she commented quietly.

"Ah. I wondered if you recognized it."

"I did. It is Sumerian. I… a wizard used it on me, once."

His eyebrows flew as he jerked his head around to stare at her. "On you?"

Her lips twisted in wry disgust, and she didn't meet his gaze. "Yes. I was not careful, and got too close." She placed his hand back onto his knee and he nodded his thanks. "I was trying to be… to do mercy."

"To be merciful."

"Yes." She rubbed her chest between her breasts, remembering pain. "Others died because of it. It was… a painful lesson. Your purpose is better."

"Obviously you defeated him."

"…Yes. He died in fire."

Rahn shivered but forced himself not to react too strongly. He didn't press for details, although he reluctantly made a mental note that he should remember it for their next "memory" session.

The mention of fire made him think of something different, something he'd wondered about: "What did the phoenix say to you? When you first called it?"

Mallika glanced at him, then leaned down to rest her chin on her crossed arms as they lay across her knees. "He merely said what you and I knew already. That we were merely delaying the inevitable."

"Oh."

"He was not arguing against saving her… they are not so cold! But he wished to make sure we were not preserving her life for selfish reasons. Those that pass, they are beyond pain, but for those left behind… we will do much to avoid loss. To a phoenix, it can be better to accept the pain now, so that you can… start new."

Rahn was quiet for a moment. "I'm glad we convinced him otherwise."

"Yes. Ayati has not had time to live her life. Now she has a chance." It remained unsaid that there would only be the one extra chance.

He remembered what he'd thought earlier, as he'd watched her comfort Sakah with the look of personal experience. "It must be something you think of often."

"It is," she admitted reluctantly, but she was always honest with him. It made him hesitate, realizing that this wasn't one of their sessions and there were quicksands he should be careful not to step into.

"I admire your strength," he said finally. He knew how hard it was simply to get up in the morning, weeks after Sumati had been taken beyond by the gods. If not for Rahji, he might not have bothered.

"I am not strong. A rock is not strong because it exists day after day. It simply does." A hint of exasperated humour coloured her voice as she stood. She turned and gave the First a rueful look. "The phoenix was worried about me most of all."

Rahji didn't quite know what to make of Mallika. He didn't interact with her much… she mostly spoke with Father and Master Sakah, and they treated her like an equal, even though she looked like she'd only just finished her apprenticeship. He found her a bit intimidating, since she was foreign and powerful and didn't tolerate fools gladly. He'd heard what she'd done to Asam, and while he had no doubt at all that the other apprentice had done something to deserve it (Asam was a bully and a slug) he didn't want to risk likewise offending her. Rahji liked his head the way it was!

Ayati wasn't nervous at all, of course, and she and Mallika got along perfectly. That wasn't surprising… Ayati was sweet and wonderful and everyone loved her across all of Karmanapura. The young girl had taken it upon herself to teach the Kemetic witch the local tongue, and the two could often be found in each other's company… both Father and Master Sakah had said they were happy Ayati had found a female friend.

Rahji would tag along when he could, especially when Mallika would help Mistress Catanya craft wands and tell stories of Kemet as she did so. Her stories were amazing, and even if Rahji didn't talk much, he sometimes imagined travelling to distant Kemet and learning the magic there. A land of powerful godstouched - godstouched who had learned how to call upon one of the most powerful of magical creatures and ask it to save a dying girl. That act alone had made Mallika a hero as far as Rahji was concerned.

Which wasn't to say he wasn't irritated that she'd volunteered as his nursemaid.

He didn't rush home to pick up his father's carrying bag. He knew what the adults were trying to do: distract him from the fact that Ayati had very nearly died. Rahji wasn't a fool - he knew she was frail, prone to weakness and fainting, and that it was only getting worse as she got older. He knew that the phoenix's intervention had only bought her time. One day that weakness would take her life… and even his father, the most skilled healer in Karmanapura - maybe the entire world - could do nothing about it.

The only one who could was their foreign visitor. The thought dogged him as he walked: what would happen when Mallika went home?

Rahji glanced up at the woman beside him as the pair walked through a wide field filled with tall grasses waving gently in the breeze, the slender leaves still green despite the cooler season. To his right he could distantly see the dip in the land that marked the course of the Ravi, the guide for anyone who travelled in the lands around Karmanapura. The two were long past the basmati fields and pastures that surrounded the city, lands that might one day be consumed by the city itself if it continued to grow and the walls were pushed outward again. Until then, there were lucky farmers and herdsmen who didn't have far to go to deliver their goods. Ahead of them were a few sparse trees, lonely survivors of the forest that had been pushed back for wood and to make room for farmland, just as those farms might one day be pushed back to make room for streets and houses.

The grasses tickled the tops of Rahji's feet as he walked, trying to resist the urge to stomp them flat in his bare feet. The day was a cloudy one, but Mallika still insisted in wearing her travel robes with the hood, which she kept up over her head as she walked beside him; she'd explained that too much sun in one day could burn her skin. Rahji understood, although he'd only ever had that happen to himself on the hottest and clearest of summer days. The land was just entering the winter season, but the air was still warm and the farmers continued to plant; Rahji's father had said that the snows of the mountains would creep downward at this time of year until some villages would be blanketed in white, and he couldn't wait until he was old enough to accompany Master Sakah for the days-long trip to see it himself.

"You are very quiet." Rahji nearly jumped when Mallika spoke, startled from his thoughts. He looked up at her, embarrassed by his reaction, and she looked back at him from beneath her hood. Her lips were quirked with amusement, and her green eyes seemed to twinkle despite the soft shadow shielding her face.

"I… sorry, I was just thinking."

"About what?"

He shrugged and gestured toward the north, though the mountains were beyond their sight. "There are great mountains to the north and east, several day's travel away. Master Sakah will sometimes travel there to hunt for gryphon eggs… I'm hoping he will let me come along next time."

"Gryphon?"

"Oh! You don't have those in Kemet? They are flying animals… they have the body of a huge cat covered in feathers, but the head and wings of an eagle. Master Sakah says their feathers can be used in potions to cure blindness."

She hummed as she thought. "No, we do not have such in Kemet, although it sounds familiar. We do have creatures called sphinx, however. They are similar, although they have the heads of human women, and only feathers on their wings."

Rahji was fascinated. "Human? Can they speak?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, if they catch you in their hunting grounds they will try to eat you, unless you can entertain them by answering their riddles."

He shuddered. "I'm terrible at riddles! I'm not smart enough for them. They'd eat me for sure."

"Ah, you do not give yourself credit. You ask good questions of Sakah. And I watch you sometimes during suppers… you do not speak, but you pay attention and think."

"Ah… I just… don't have anything to say," he said, feeling bashful. He hadn't been aware that Mallika made much note of him.

"Exactly." Her eyes were definitely twinkling now. "Many also have nothing to say… but they talk always." Though embarrassed by the praise, he laughed at the joke.

"We're almost to the forest," he said as he pointed ahead, trying to change the subject. Up ahead of them the sparse bushes were thickening into taller, healthier pines and junipers, the grasses thinning until the soft beige clay underneath could be seen. "What kinds of herbs were you looking for? There's lots of burdock and echinacea, and I know where there's a flobberworm mound." Mallika's face twisted in disgust at the last, and he nearly laughed again.

"I have not learned those words yet, though I know what flobberworms are. I wish to make burn salves, and maybe potions to soothe the stomach. Do you know the ingredients to these? It is unlikely to be different." He nodded. "Then… lead the way."

The next few hours were spent gathering, filling the carrying bag Mallika had tied around her waist. Rahji was glad that he was much better at potions and herbology than he was at pure spellcasting, as he was able to lead her to exactly the ingredients she needed for the potions she wanted to make. Many plants she recognized by sight, and then she'd ask for the local name. Occasionally they'd come across an herb or flower she didn't recognize, and Rahji would describe to her the uses he'd been taught by Master Sakah. It was strange - he wasn't used to explaining things to adults, but he liked it.

Shortly after midday they wandered in the direction of the river, turning to follow it downstream as it flowed toward the city, moving at an unhurried pace. Mallika had pulled two small loaves of bread from her bag (causing Rahji to gape, as the breads were far larger than the bag should be able to hold) and handed one to him, and they ate as they walked. The clouds had broken up, letting the sun shine down, warming the ground and making the river glitter.

"So… when you do not think of potions or magic, what do you think of?" Mallika asked.

Rahji shrugged. "I… uh… nothing, really."

"Really? I think you would think of Ayati."

She said it so baldly that Rahji nearly tripped over a rock, dropping his bread. Wasn't the point of this entire trip to keep him from thinking about her? "W-what?" he stammered, picking up the half-loaf and brushing away some dirt and rocks that had stuck to it.

"I am not blind, Rahji," Mallika answered. Rahji realized she'd stopped walking, and he had to stop and turn to face her. "You are fond of her, and she nearly died today. This must bother you."

"I… I thought you wanted to distract me from that! Isn't that why you asked me to come with you?"

"No. Your father would wish this, but that is not why I asked you along. It is not good to hover over Ayati, yes, but I thought you might wish to go with me so you can speak and not worry that your father would try to shelter you. Is there anything you want to say?"

Rahji blinked; he hadn't expected their little day-trip to have exactly the opposite goal he'd thought it had. Suddenly he found that he wanted the distraction! "I… no."

"Nothing? Are you sure?"

"Y-yes."

She looked at him, and it was a look disturbingly like the ones his father would give him. Unlike Father, however, she simply nodded. "Very well."

She walked past him, and he stared at her as she did, mouth open, realizing that she wasn't going to push him. Father would push, so why was he wishing he was having this conversation with him, instead? "Are you going to stay?" he blurted.

Mallika turned, looking back at him. "Stay?"

"Only you can save her! You said she wasn't cured, that she'd get sick again, and when she does only you can save her! Father tried, but he can't, and he's the best healer in the land, so… so you have to stay, and help her when she gets sick again." His fingers had punched through the crust of the bread, but he ignored it. "Please."

"I didn't save Ayati, Rahji. The phoenix did."

"Then you can tell it to come back and do it again."

She frowned. "A phoenix is not a… a servant, Rahji," she said, her accent even more pronounced. "There are maybe two dozen in all the world, and they come only in the time of greatest need. They believe in… in new, and they will help those who they believe have never had a chance to live - like Ayati. But they do not believe in always making life longer... it is not their way."

Rahji blanched. "Then… when Ayati gets sick again, it won't come?" Mallika shook her head. "Then what was the point? Why help her just so she can die again, and we'll have to watch and we can't do anything-"

"Rahji, do not do this." Mallika stepped forward and gripped his shoulder, giving him a soft shake. "Ayati will have more time, time she did not have before. Time, maybe, for your father to find a cure. Time to see you become a great wizard. Think on that." Her emerald gaze was astonishingly intense. "Time is chance. There is always too much, and never enough."

She seemed too young to be sharing such wisdom, and Rahji wondered if she, too, had lost friends as a child. He was silent for a long moment, letting her words rattle around inside his head. Mallika sensed his need and left him to think, taking a few steps away to look over the river. He thought about Ayati, who thought about her own mortality far less than those who were perfectly healthy. He thought about how the girl always loved seeing his magic, and seemed to be even prouder about each new spell he learned than he was himself.

"Mallika?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I could save her?"

She gave him a careful look. "I think you would not forgive yourself if you did not try. But remember, it is not your fault if you cannot. Some things are beyond us."

"Then I'm going to. I'm going to learn all the magic I can, and I'm going to save her." He realized how arrogant that sounded and blushed. "Uh… if Father doesn't do it first, anyway." Mallika simply smirked at him.

He wandered over to stand by her, noticing that he'd managed to mangle the lump of bread in his fist. He sighed, lifting it to take a bite. "I'm going to have to pay more attention to my lessons."

"Sakah will appreciate that."

"It's so hard! I never pick up spells quickly, but Sakah says it's because I think too much."

They were silent as he chewed. Rahji thought about throwing the rest of his into the river, but his father would scold him if he heard of him wasting food like that… he often reminded Rahji that the muggle farmers worked hard, without magic, to supply enough grain for all of them. Mallika had pulled out her wand, fiddling with it as he finished off the last bites of his meal.

Almost idly, she pointed it toward the river. "Bombarda." There was no visible bolt or beam, but the water erupted into a geyser that reached nearly three storeys into the sky, soaking the banks and sending huge waves rushing up and down the river.

Rahji blinked at the unexpected display of magic. Mallika turned her head to look at him from the corner of her eyes, a small smirk decorating her lips. Her wand moved again, slowly enough that Rahji could trace the movements: two horizontal swishes, a circle, an upwards flick followed by a thrust.

"Bombarda," she repeated, almost casually. The water burst again.

Wait… was she doing what he thought she was doing?

"Um…" he began nervously. "I… are you teaching magic? I'm not sure I should be…" He trailed off, not wanting to baldly call her improper.

"Teach?" she said, eyebrows raised, and her surprise was too exaggerated to be authentic. "Oh, no no, I do not teach. I just felt like casting. It is a good release, crude but satisfying."

"You are just a child," she added, waving her wand-hand airily, "surely you could not learn a spell simply by watching me." A third spell, as blatantly demonstrated as the first two, and this time the opposite bank of the river exploded into a cloud of dust and sand. The valley echoed with the blast.

Rahji stared, unsure how offended he was supposed to be. He still had no words when Mallika suddenly spotted a patch of sweet violets and asked him to hand over the carrying bag. He did so and the witch didn't quite skip over to the batch of flowers, leaving Rahji standing on the riverbank.

He found his wand in his hand and realized he hadn't consciously thought of taking it out. He fingered the stick nervously. Should he do this? Sakah wouldn't get mad at something he learned on his own, would he?

Do it! He pointed at the water. "Bombarda," he said quietly, twitching his wand in the motions Mallika had shown him. Nothing happened. His fingers clenched around the wand, and frustration flooded him. He pointed again, trying to force his magic down the wand, hissing the incantation. Nothing.

Such a simple spell, and he couldn't get it right! He almost threw down his wand in disgust, but restrained himself - hadn't he just made a vow that he would try harder, for Ayati's sake? What did Master Sakah say whenever Rahji struggled with a new spell?

Well, he usually started with something along the lines of "sit down and listen".

After that… Concentrate, Rahji. He lifted his wand and pointed it at the river. Think about the spell's effect (a burst of water or dust, enough to splash him). Think about the wand motion, about the incantation. It guides the magic, yes, but it also guides you. It helps you convince yourself that your spell will succeed! That's the core of magic: taking what you want, taking what you believe, and making it real.

He swished his wand, concentrating on how he wanted the spell to work, how it would work for him. "Bombarda," he said. The river exploded upward like a boulder had been thrown into the center of it. Rahji blinked at his success.

"Heh… Hah! Bombarda!" The water burst again, close enough this time that he actually was spattered with a few drops. "Bombarda!" Another splash. He pointed at a stone on the other side of the river. "Bombarda!" The stone cracked in half, spraying chips everywhere. "Hahah!"

"Well, that is unexpected."

Rahji nearly jumped out of his skin as Mallika spoke beside him… he hadn't even heard her approach. He blinked up at her, embarrassed. "Um… Hi!"

She looked down at him with amusement, glancing over at the split stone. "You really did learn just by seeing me cast," she observed, and she leaned down as if to share a secret. "Did you think too much?"

"I… no. Well, I don't think so."

She squeezed his shoulder. "Do you feel better?"

"Yes, Mistress," he answered honestly. His anger and frustration had flowed down his wand, thrown out to splash water and crack rocks; now he simply felt tired, mixed with a tiny bit of the elation he had whenever he learned a new spell.

"Ah, I am not your Mistress... I am just Mallika, remember."

"Yes, Mis- er, Mallika." He blushed again, but she simply gave him a nod.

She patted the bag on her hip. "We have plenty of ingredients now, and it has been a long day. Let us go home." He nodded, falling into step beside her as they headed off alongside the river.

The clouds had fled, letting the afternoon sun shine down on them fully. Rahji welcomed the warmth, and even Mallika enjoyed it without flipping up her hood. They walked in companionable silence, and he felt much lighter than when they'd left that morning. The two followed the river back to Karmanapura, the waters rippling past them as they walked at an easy pace.

He couldn't help but look forward to his next lessons. He would impress Sakah with his new attitude, and he'd learn everything his Master had to teach. His father would be proud, and then Rahji would learn healing from him. And Ayati would be there, until the day when Rahji would cast the spell to cure her completely-

"What is that?"

He stopped, realizing Mallika was no longer beside him. Instead she had fallen behind, staring at something near the other riverbank, and her question had been asked in a strange, wondrous tone of voice. Squinting, he looked across the river.

It took him a few seconds to spot, standing as it was the shade of a broad juniper: a hangul deer - a male. Rahji was surprised to see one so far west, and in the lowlands as well… possibly the winter in the mountains had been severe enough to drive the creature far in the search for food? It was a rare sight, and he couldn't help but marvel at how tall and strong the stag looked compared to its more local cousins, the hog deer. Hungry or not, its fur was still lustrous, and it hadn't yet shed its antlers. Rahji was glad it was on the other side of the river - if it was still rutting season, a male might be aggressive.

His appreciation of the majestic animal was nothing compared to his travelling companion's. Mallika gazed wide-eyed at the animal as if it was a manifestation of the gods themselves. She reached for him, not taking her eyes off the deer as it dipped its nose, sniffing at the grasses below its shading tree. "Rahji… what is it?"

"It's… a deer. A stag," he answered. He looked up at her with concern - in all the months she'd been around, he'd never heard such a tone in her voice. She normally spoke with authority… sometimes arrogant, sometimes jesting, but always a sense of confidence… like she was aware of everything that was going on. Now, she sounded confused and surprised.

He reached up and hesitantly squeezed the elbow of the arm that reached for him. "Mallika? Are you okay?"

She turned a startled look toward him, as if he'd woken her from a trance. She blinked at him, then looked back up at the stag, which was wandering away. "Yes… yes, I am okay."

They didn't start walking again until the stag was out of her sight.

"And you say you felt happy seeing it?"

"More than happy," Mallika replied. "I felt… safe! Warm, and… and loved?"

She blushed lightly as she said it, but Rahn didn't call attention to that. In fact, he didn't mention how unusual she was behaving in general… the moment she and Rahji had returned she'd all but dragged him into the courtyard so they could speak privately. There she'd described their unusual encounter and her strange reaction to it. Rahn had let Rahji dash off to Sakah's to check on Ayati while he pulled out a tablet to add to his notes. Meanwhile the witch paced in a very un-Mallika-like manner in front of him.

"And it was just a deer? Not a magical creature of some sort?"

"Yes!"

Rahn raised an eyebrow at the emphatic answer. "Do you remember the last time you've seen a deer?"

"I…" She ground to a halt. She struggled in the manner he was familiar with, reaching for memories the way he might grasp at smoke. "No."

"There are no deer in Kemet?"

"No. There are antelope, which are similar, but I have seen them and they do not make me feel this way. I felt…" She struggled, trying to find the right words… and not only because of the language barrier. He saw her expression change when realized how to say what she meant. "I felt like Rahji, when he has done something to please you." She turned to him, an utterly nonplussed expression on her face. "Why would I feel like that?"

"I can only guess."

"I would like to hear, guess or not."

Rahn etched a few more symbols into the tablet, then set it on the step beside him, laying his wand down with it. He rested his clasped hands on his knees as he looked up at the ancient witch, taking a moment to think. "I think something incredibly important happened to you… something life changing. A stag figured into it somehow, along with something or someone you cared for very deeply. From the sounds of it… someone you viewed as an authority figure, someone you wished to please. A king, or a husband," - Mallika snorted somewhat disdainfully - "or… a parent."

The last word brought her up short. "Do you say… are you saying I am the daughter of a stag?" she asked sceptically.

Rahn laughed. "No! I'm saying that you somehow associate a stag with someone you view in a parental manner. Maybe you were hunting with your father and made him proud. Maybe you helped your mother heal an injured animal. Either way, the two became strongly tied in your memories."

She gave him a doubtful look, and he could understand why. "I don't think your memories are lost, Mallika."

"What? But they are. When we talk, there are clouds. I cannot remember things, you know this."

"You can't, until you do," he replied. "Like you said: clouds. Not a wall. Sometimes the clouds pass, and you don't even realize, because you may not be trying to remember the right thing at the right time. You don't remember Iry-Hor's father… but you do remember Rai's parents, even though they lived at the same time. Something about them allows you to remember them. Something about that stag helps you remember the feeling of someone you cared about. You can have memories of feelings, too, you know."

Mallika lightly bit her lip as she thought about his words. For the first time since he'd met her, she looked young - despite her appearance, the years she carried around with her were always invisible but present for those who knew to look. For a moment, though, he could easily think of her as half his age, vibrant but inexperienced. "But… is that better? If it was simple time, then it would be an explanation, yes? Now we have less to think of?"

"`Simply time', and no, we actually have more to think about. We know that whatever malady you have isn't attacking your memories indiscriminately. There is something common about the memories you're losing… or the memories you're keeping."

"Simply time. Simply time," she repeated quietly. Though her accent was still heavy, her vocabulary and syntax had improved by leaps and bounds, especially with Ayati assisting her. "So what do we do now?"

He sighed. "That's the hard part. A blurry line is harder to see when it moves. Exploring your oldest memories by having you speak of them has been useful… but there's so much there, and how could you tell when something is missing that wasn't before? It's like the river rising in the spring: a change so gradual it can be difficult to notice. It's a shame I can't see your memories for myself."

Rahn looked away to pick up his wand. He was hungry, and it was starting to distract him. He looked up to ask if Mallika would like to join them for supper when he saw a strange expression on her face, a mixture of puzzlement and surprise. "What? What is it?"

"Why can you not?"

"Eh?"

"Why can you not view my memories? I would allow it."

"Because… because there is no method to do so. There's no spell-" He halted. He stood slowly, his voice rasping with incredulity. "Mallika, do you know a spell for viewing another's mind?"

"Yes… I… no…" Her malachite eyes were wide, and Rahn tried to remember if he'd ever seen the ancient witch look so confused. She looked down at her hands, and though her wand still lay on the step, she moved her fingers as if trying to remember the motions of a spell.

After a moment she gave up, her teeth grinding in frustration. "I do not know such a spell," she said, and it was not the time to tease her for saying it like it was a personal failing. "But… I know it is possible."

"I believe you," he said. Any questions he wanted to ask were cut off by a happy cry from inside the house.

"Mallika!" Ayati, healthy and whole, all but bounced into the courtyard. She was trailed by Sakah and Rahji, both of them wearing twinned looks of frustrated concern. The young girl grabbed Mallika around the waist to hug her, taking the woman by surprise. She pulled back, her nose wrinkling. "Ew, you're sweaty."

"Ayati, what are you doing out of bed?" Rahn demanded. He looked over at Sakah who only shrugged helplessly, caught between worry and joy.

"I'm not tired! Not even a little bit!" she declared. She looked up at the witch, dark eyes huge. "Did you really call a phoenix to save me?"

"I did, but he helped because he wanted to. You feel better now, yes?"

"Yes!" she crowed, thrusting her hands out. "Feel them! My hands are warm!" Mallika politely squeezed one hand, while Rahn stepped forward to grasp the other more clinically. All her life, her hands and feet had been chill to the touch, evidence of her poor circulation… now they radiated a healthy heat, her slender fingers a deep mocha in colour instead of the slight grey tinge they usually had.

Ayati pulled her hands free to nearly dance around Mallika, peppering the witch with a dozen questions a second about phoenixes and magic. Rahn moved to stand by Sakah, who watched his granddaughter with a look that said he couldn't quite believe what he saw. The expression was mirrored on Rahji, and Rahn reached over to give his son a squeeze on the shoulder.

"Does she know?" he asked the elder man quietly.

"Yes," Sakah answered after a moment, never taking his eyes off her.

"I'm not sure she should be jumping around like this. The damage was undone, not prevented, and-" He stopped as Sakah held up a hand.

"Let her enjoy it," the old man said. In front of them Ayati was demanding to be shown one of the exercises from that morning, bending over to try to touch her head to her knee, an act that would have made her lightheaded just the day before. "Who knows how long it'll last."

Rahn invited the group to stay for supper, even though he hardly needed to do so anymore… the two pairs and their one visitor spent so much time together that they could probably be counted as one family. The thought made him strangely happy, and he fondly watched the two children chatter as they ate. Sakah was exhausted and elated at the same time, his old bones worn out by the tragedy and miracles of the day. And Mallika… well, she was as quiet and aloof as she normally was, but her own actions had shown that perhaps her coldness was a bit of an act.

He - they - truly were indebted to her, now. He'd already promised to help her, and she'd shown no impatience or doubt in his ability. He'd been amply rewarded already, he thought, by both the tales she would share and the glimpses of magic she knew, but even if she'd been a muggle and never spoke a word, he would have helped her anyway.

Memories make the man. He believed this implicitly. He wasn't so naive as to think evil didn't exist, but he'd seen firsthand how experiences shaped the kind of person someone was. Enough beatings could turn the most gentle of creatures vicious, and even a dragon could show affection for a person who was consistently kind. It was one of the reasons he'd taken on Mallika's impossible problem: losing her memories meant she was losing her sense of self, and he could not rightfully stand by and ignore such a thing.

It was a struggle to sleep that night, but the next morning he managed to work with Mallika and Rahji for their exercises without being distracted too much. They also had an unexpected newcomer in the form of Ayati, who insisted on participating. Rahn initially thought to say no, but he remembered what Sakah had said the day before… and, to be fair, coddling the girl hadn't helped stave off the inevitable, so perhaps it was time to change tactics. Sakah was right: let her do what she thought she was capable of. It might actually help.

Granted, that didn't mean he didn't have to fight the urge to hover over the girl, himself and Rahji both. She didn't comment on it - she was far too used to it - but he caught Mallika smirking at the two males acting like clucking hens. They exercised, and though Ayati wasn't particularly flexible or strong, she didn't faint.

When they were done Rahji reluctantly left to resume his lessons, while Ayati begged to accompany Mallika to the public baths. Rahn hid a grin - perhaps there was some newfound hero worship there? He assured the witch that he hadn't planned on one of their sessions that day, and that the two "girls" could enjoy themselves. The raised eyebrow he received from Mallika in response to that comment spoke volumes.

For himself, Rahn had other things on his mind. Namely, a spell to allow him to view memories. It was brilliant. It was obvious! In all his years of healing minds and bodies, why had he never thought of it?He just had to figure it out. If Mallika said such a spell was possible, he was sure that it was.

Maybe Ayati wasn't the only one with a bit of awe for their visitor.

Granted, knowing it was possible and making it happen were two entirely different things. New magic was difficult - most spells were handed down, master to apprentice, with their origins lost in history. New spells were created by accident - either by clumsy experimentation (which was extremely hazardous to the caster) or by trying to recreate something first done by accidental magic. Oddly, it was children who "created" magic most often - children who had never taken a lesson, who didn't even know magic had "rules"... they only knew what they needed to happen, and their untrained magic made it so (Rahn thought there was something important about that).

Unfortunately, he'd had never accidentally read anyone's mind as a child, at least not that he could remember. Which meant he was venturing into unknown lands without a guide.

He started with the most sensible beginning: research. Since spells were rarely written down, that meant asking the other masters in the city if they'd ever heard of such a thing. As First, it wasn't difficult or even unusual for him to pay visits to the other godstouched in the city, and he took the opportunity to "drop by", to inquire as to their health and that of any students they may have, and by the way, have you ever heard of a spell to let someone see someone's memories? Sadly, none had any idea, and the long, tiring litany of complaints Rahn subjected himself to from Avinoda looked to be in vain.

So no-one in in the city knew of such a spell. Where else could he look? He could send a messenger to Harappa, but how likely were the godstouched there to know of such a thing when most of the talented wizards flocked to Karmanapura? If the spell was still widely known in Kemet he was certain Mallika would have said so, but what of Sumer? What of the wise-men of the tribes across the mountains? It would take months, perhaps years, to simply send a message, and he couldn't go himself.

He was on his own. So… experimentation it was, then.

Several days after Ayati's healing, he sequestered himself in the courtyard of his home, armed with a couple of blank tablets and nothing more than an uncertain claim that a spell might, maybe, have existed at one time.

Hoping that it might lead him in the right direction, he considered spells that he knew also affected the mind. He started with a simple befuddling charm, so old that he wasn't sure when he'd even learned it. A small squirrel he found running around the courtyard was the subject, and he had to stifle some snickers as the little creature struggled to move a fist-sized rock it was absolutely certain was the biggest, most delicious nut it had ever laid eyes on. Rahn played with the somatic components - Hmm… two angular flicks, maybe, to symbolize opening the mind? Guess not... - while always concentrating on trying to see what the squirrel did.

He spent the morning fruitlessly, etching failed motion after failed motion onto a tablet until the ceramic sheet was covered in failure. At midday Vida brought him a copper plate of boiled vegetables and bread, setting it on the step beside him while shaking her head, recognizing that the First was indulging another one of his "obsessions". The plate went ignored until the winter sun began to dip in the sky.

"What are you doing?"

Rahn nearly jumped out of his robes. He spun to find Mallika standing over him, one dark eyebrow raised at him. "Agh! Uh... - Hi!" His concentration on the squirrel broke, the little critter suddenly realizing the treasure it had been struggling with the whole day was nothing more than a dusty rock… the courtyard filled with its betrayed chittering. He could see her struggling not to laugh, which did nothing to help his embarrassment.

"You look like Rahji when you do that," she said, stepping down off the step and into the courtyard. She had a reed basket under one arm, filled with a few loaves of bread, and he wondered if she'd made them herself or purchased them from the market.

Rahn sighed, finally noticing the plate full of food and realizing he was famished. He reached down and grabbed the stale bread, tearing it and tossing half to the squirrel as a reward and apology. The rodent eyed it with justifiable suspicion before testing it with a bite - authenticity established, it dragged the bread behind the well and out of sight of the two humans. He sat down and picked up the plate, wincing at the cold, mushy vegetables at he scooped a spoonful into his mouth. Perhaps sensing his frustration, Mallika said nothing, simply sitting down beside him, setting down her basket.

Several of his note-tablets lay on the ground around them, and she looked over them curiously. "What are these? What were you doing?"

"Wasting time," he grumbled. She scowled at him and he hastened to add, "I'm trying to figure that memory spell you spoke of. I'm not having much success."

"You think you would create a spell in one day?" She peered over the tablets, and finally seemed to notice the swirls and lines indicating flicks and waves. "Are these wand movements? Is this… are you guessing at the spell?" she asked incredulously.

"I… yes?" Rahn suddenly felt like a foolish student… and the look Mallika was giving him was a remarkable copy of the looks he'd get from Master Prathama.

"Why? This is foolish… and dangerous! Why would you do it this way?"

"What other way is there to do it?"

"What other-" she began. Her face pinched, and Rahn was suddenly reminded that this was the Witch of Kemet, master to generations of godstouched, and she had the `displeased teacher' look down perfectly. She stood, and a wave of her wand reduced his tablets to powder. He squawked indignantly.

"No more guessing," she commanded, and though he was First of the city, standing in his own home, disobedience never crossed his mind. She leaned toward him, arms crossed, and her wand tapped against her bicep. "I will teach you arithmancy."

`Arithmancy', it turned out, involved writing. Lots and lots of writing. Instead of tablets she etched lines into the dirt of the courtyard using her wand and her big toe, and at first he merely watched in amusement, nibbling at his neglected dinner. But soon the food was forgotten all over again as time went on, and his eyes steadily became wider and wider until they almost felt like they might pop out of his head.

"Well?"

Rahn twitched, realizing she had asked him a question. He blinked at her. "Mallika…"

He stood from where he'd been sitting on the edge of the well, marvelling over the writings she'd made in the dirt. By way of example, she'd - he wasn't even sure of the right word to use... "explained"? "taken apart"? - the levitation charm, and then contrasted it with her feather-light charm, showing not just the differences but the similarities which made each spell unique yet gave them a similar effect. It was too much to grasp in a single afternoon, but already he could see where swapping one rune he knew for another could drastically change the nature of the spell.

It was a language, he realized… a language that described something that was as much belief and emotion as it was process. It gave logic to the illogical, just like words and sentences had roots and structure… and like a charming speaker, it made the person who witnessed it believe in it. And belief was everything when it came to magic.

It changed everything!

"You can make spells," he said softly. He looked up at the foreign witch, and though he hadn't been an apprentice in decades he felt like he did that first day of lessons, when Master Prathama had shown him the movements to make a feather float. "You can make spells! Mallika, why do you even need me?"

She scowled at him. "Do you think spellcraft is just… writing? Look at this!" She gestured widely at all the scribbles around them. "This is only part of the most simple of spells, a spell taught to students as their very first! The larger spells, the greater magic, is much, much more difficult."

"But surely you would be better at this-"

She groaned. "Why do you assume I am more intelligent than you? I am old, Rahn… that is all. I will not be false and say that I am not strong… I have much time to learn things that others would master more quickly. But that is not talent - that is simply waking up in the morning," she added wryly.

"But… didn't you create this?"

"Me? No. I do not know where I learned this, but… it does not feel like something I would discover. I have struggled to understand it, just like you. Someone taught me… I just do not remember them."

More mystery, locked behind her lost memories. What other treasures were there waiting inside her head? Suddenly it seemed even more important that he help her.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I understand. I promise I'll do my best."

"That is why I sought you."

It felt strange, to explore magic using techniques that could almost be compared to a merchant's accounting. Yet it worked, and Rahn was slowly coming to grasp the concepts she was trying to teach him. He could see why she'd had been so mortally offended - and frightened - by what she called "blundering around" the process of inventing a spell. She'd taken several days to demonstrate how a few careless flicks in a simple (for her) soil-to-stone transfiguration could result in a block of shale that would burst into deadly shards… Rahn had been chastened in a way he hadn't experienced since he was Rahji's age.

Time went on. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to seasons. For a brief length of that, Rahn had the experience of being a student again, which was both thrilling and humbling. Arithmancy revealed depths of magic to him that he'd never even considered despite how much he'd thought on it, and yet Mallika had been right: there was still more to be explored, hidden promises that even she had yet to touch.

In the evenings he would work on his new spell. Progress was slow and sometimes he felt guilty that it was taking so long, but the witch was never demanding. It was something he'd noticed as they'd explored her memories: when offended her wrath was immediate and terrible; but she would wait a lifetime for the smallest of kindnesses.

Instead she amused herself learning the basics of wandcraft while Ayati took to helping her grandfather with an enthusiastic joy that showed how much she loved being able to contribute rather than lying in her bed. Sakah himself was tired but more energized than ever, always insisting on bringing the children on walks into the forest, to see magical creatures or practice spellwork under a blue sky. It was as if he felt Ayati had missed out on years of life and he was determined to make up for every last breath, not caring one bit that he was wearing himself down in the process.

But as Rahn's father would say, not even the river was unchanging. Change would happen, and often unexpectedly. And change came one night when, pleading tiredness after dinner, Sakah went to bed… and didn't wake up the next morning.

His death shook the entire city - the old wizard was respected and admired throughout Karmanapura and the surrounding lands, and his burial rites had more attending than any in years. Rahn presided over the burial as both First and Sakah's best friend, speaking the ritual words to commend the man's soul to the lands of the dead. Afterward he watched as a seemingly endless flow of mourners filed by, many placing gifts inside the grave to help Sakah on his journey: new clothes, loaves of bread, and even pots of wine.

As Sakah's most recent apprentice Rahji helped stand watch over the grave, finally stepping inside to place Sakah's wand into his clasped hands and covering his body with the burial shroud. After hopping out the young man waved his wand, summoning the soil to cover the grave. Rahn felt pride in his son - it was a difficult spell for a twelve-year-old. Rahji was trying hard to be stoic, all expression missing from his face, but even in the torchlight one could see the redness of his eyes.

A devastated Ayati cried openly as her last living blood relative was laid to his rest. In just the past half-year of relatively good-health the young girl had begun to thrive, finally becoming the lovely teenager she was always meant to be. She would always be small and delicate, but she could come with them on walks outside the city, carry pots of water for herself, and stand quickly without fainting. Rahn didn't know how long it would last, but he was thankful that Sakah had lived to see it happen.

Mallika stood beside her, one pale hand resting comfortingly on the weeping girl's shoulder, her dark red robes nearly black in the torch-lit night. If Rahji was trying to be stoic than the Kemetic witch was the example none could match - only her eyes moved, the rest of her as if carved from stone. Perhaps only Rahn could see the tiredness there, the empty resignation to the inevitable.

It was past midnight when the crowd finally dispersed and Rahn lead the others back to his home. He wasn't about to allow Ayati to go home to her now-empty house, so he told her to take his mattress, leaving Rahji to watch over her. The poor boy was at a loss; he laid a comforting hand on her arm, and before he knew it Ayati was curled into his chest and sobbing. He froze, helpless, then wrapped his arms around her… saying nothing but being a comforting presence.

Rahn was very proud of him.

He walked out into the courtyard where Mallika waited, taking a seat beside her as he always did on happier days. None of the torches were lit and the moon was but a sliver, but the endless stars shone down on them well enough to see. Mallika looked upward as if searching for whatever new star had been added by Sakah's passing.

"How is she?" she asked quietly.

"Struggling. But Rahji's comforting her."

She was silent for a long moment. "He's in love with her," she finally said, in a way that sounded as if she was pronouncing his doom.

"I know."

"He will see her die."

"Possibly," he replied softly.

"Should we do anything about it?" She didn't ask the question with any malice or enthusiasm, and Rahn heard the real question being asked: Should we protect him?

"No," he answered. Mallika gave a single sharp nod.

She asked nothing else, and he looked up at the stars. After a moment meditating on the view, he turned to look toward his companion; even tanned, her pale skin gave her an ethereal look in the starlight, far different from his own earthy tones. "I have something to ask you."

"You want me to teach Rahji," she said tiredly.

"No. Well… yes, but that's not the question I was going to ask."

She squinted at him. "What is it?"

"Will you take in Ayati?"

"What?" Rahn waved at her to keep her voice down. She glanced over her shoulder back into the house, turning back to him to hiss through her teeth. "Rahn… that is ridiculous. I know nothing of children! Why me? Why not here?"

"Because Rahji is in love with her, and he's too young to understand it," he said firmly. "Ayati isn't a child, you know that, but she can't live on her own… and I certainly don't want her living alone in that empty house. I'm not asking you to be her mother. All you have to be to her is a friend, which you already are. Aren't you?"

She rubbed at her face. "Yes," she grunted.

"It's not such a hardship. Ayati likes you, and she's not so delicate as we all insist on treating her."

"Maybe I'm not concerned about the trouble she would cause me, but the trouble I would cause her. Did you think of that? I am… I am not always good, Rahn. I think that once I was, but I have seen too much."

"Ah, you are not so harsh. She could charm a hungry dragon out of its last morsel," he scoffed.

He glanced at her, watching the way she fiddled with her wand. "Are you worried about growing attached to her?" She said nothing, but the way her hands tightened around her wand said enough. "She will do you good, Mallika. I know you fear forming bonds with those of us who will not last as you do, but Ayati has always been aware of her mortality more than the rest of us, and she doesn't let it rule her life... or the lives of the people around her. She takes care of us as much as we take care of her, you may have noticed."

The witch sighed, sounding frustrated. "Fine. We can ask her, and see if she agrees. I do not want her feeling like a burden being passed around."

"Of course. But I think I already know what her answer will be."

"No."

Rahn blinked, unsure whether he'd heard correctly. Across the table even Mallika looked surprised, so he must have. "Pardon?"

Ayati's eyes went wide, realizing how her answer could be interpreted. "Oh! I mean… yes, but…" She looked down at her barely-touched breakfast of porridge. The redness of her eyes had faded, but she still bore dark circles under her eyes, and it reminded them all of her days of fragile health. "I don't want Mallika to move in with me. Can I move in with you, instead?" she pleaded, turning to the witch.

"Of course," she replied carefully. "But are you sure? My home is smaller, and isn't the house you grew up in…"

"That's why I want to go there instead," the teenager said. She sniffled. "My parents, my grandfather… they all thought I would die in that house. They thought I would never get the chance to leave. Now they're gone, and Grandfather is gone… I feel strange, because Grandfather said it was awful to outlive his children, and I'm glad he didn't have to endure outliving his grandchild. Is that bad?"

Rahn reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "Not bad at all."

She fought down the tears that threatened to spill, and her lips pressed together into a stern, resolute line. "I know I'm strong now, but it won't last, and we don't know how long it will. But when it happens, and I see Mother and Father and Grandfather again… I want to be able to tell them I didn't die in the same house I was born in. Does that make sense?"

He and Mallika exchanged looks. He glanced back at Ayati - the girl was still small, still delicate; she couldn't run far without getting dizzy, or carry a pot of water up stairs without assistance. But she was vibrant despite it all - stubborn in a way that put even Mallika to shame, blossoming like a flower growing out of a crack in bare rock. She knew her life was short, and was determined not to waste any of it.

"It makes perfect sense. Mallika?"

"Of course. When would you like to bring your things over?"

"Today, please."

"You're moving away?" Rahji asked weakly.

"She's only moving over to Mallika's, not to Harappa," Rahn said. Rahji hunched a bit as he kneeled on the mat beside him, embarrassed. "Besides, you'll be seeing them both aplenty."

The boy screwed up his face, confused. "Huh?"

"I hope you will be somewhat quicker of wit when I begin teaching you," Mallika said. She said the words dryly as she brought a spoonful of porridge to her lips.

"Huh?" Rahji repeated, his eyes round. "You? You will-" He stuttered to a halt as he realized he was perilously close to being insulting. "I mean, thank you!" He bowed to her over the table, almost putting his hair into his bowl.

"She agreed when I asked her last night," Rahn explained. "I expect you to work hard for her… don't expect her to go easy on you just because she's younger than Sakah. She's very powerful and you'll learn much." Mallika rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Father… thank you, Mallika!"

"Ah," she cautioned, wagging her spoon at him. "It's Mistress now." Rahji's face darkened from embarrassment, but he still gave a rueful smile as he saw Ayati grin as she rubbed away unshed tears.

"Um… when do we start?"

"Not today, maybe not tomorrow. We should help Ayati get settled, and then rest. You've both suffered an upset, and there is no shame in taking some time to recover your balance."

After breakfast, the two adults and two teenagers made their way over to Sakah's - … no. Rahji corrected himself as he realized the house belonged to Ayati now.

He felt the difference as soon as they stepped through the door… even with the four of them, the house felt empty. Lifeless. Wrong. Ayati made a tiny noise of misery as she stood on the lower floor of the house, and Rahji felt an urge to hug her again. But she squared her shoulders and made her way over to the room where she and Sakah would sleep. While most families with two-level houses slept on the upper floor or even the roof, Sakah had chosen to set up their mattresses on the lower floor, near the kitchen area, in order to spare Ayati the effort of climbing the stairs.

It had been that room where Sakah had died. It had been that room where Ayati had almost died, just months before.

He looked up as his father put a hand on his shoulder. "Mallika and I will go upstairs and make sure Sakah didn't leave any wards or enchantments that might misbehave. You help Ayati bundle up her things." Rahji nodded.

After the two adults disappeared up the stairs, Rahji reluctantly stepped into the sleeping room. Ayati was kneeling next to her mattress, packing up her robes - which amounted to little more than crumpling them into balls and stuffing them into a wicker basket. He avoided looking at the mattress on the other side of the room - Sakah's bed would never be used again.

Ayati glanced up as he entered; his uncertainty must have showed on his face. "Rahji, could you roll up my bed for me?"

"Yes, of course," he answered. He reached down and began rolling up the thin linen mattress inside the reed mat that lay underneath it, swatting it to knock away the dust that gathered on the bottom from the brick flooring. He knew a spell that could have bundled it all up easily, but he didn't want the orphan girl to think she was only worth a flick of his wand - no, he was willing to get his hands dusty.

A particularly vigorous swat sent beige dust into the air, and Ayati coughed lightly. "Ah, sorry!"

"No, no, it's okay. Grandfather usually swept the room, even when I said I was strong enough to do it. But he hadn't for a week…. he was feeling too tired." She looked down at the bundle of robes in her hands - Sakah had always enjoyed showering his granddaughter with clothing and baubles, and the bright yellow garments she held had been one of her favourites. "I should have known something was wrong.".

Rahji was intensely uncomfortable, unsure what to say. "You couldn't have changed it."

"No, you're right. Here, use this to tie up the mattress." She handed him a length of rough rope to tie up her bedroll.

It took a depressingly little amount of time to gather Ayati's belongings, Rahji thought. In his and Father's room at home, his side was covered in stuff he'd collected over years… from small sparkling rocks to a lump of copper he'd transfigured into a small statue of a pixie. The transfiguration was wearing off, and it'd already half-reverted back into a reddish lump, but Father said it was an amazing effort for so young a wizard, happily sticking it to the wall with a charm.

Other than her clothes, Ayati had very little to call her own - she didn't gather jewelry or knick-knacks or other silly things, even though there wasn't a person in the city who would deny her anything she asked for. It was as if the little girl, having grasped her own impermanence, had decided that gathering things for the sake of having things was pointless. Instead, she gathered people - from the merchants at the market, to the First of the city, to stern and powerful witches from halfway around the world. Rahji blinked at the realization, and found himself happy that Ayati included him in her collection.

There was one exception, and Ayati picked up a small wooden box from near where her bed had been. "What's that?" he asked.

She took off the lid to let him see; inside was a small bronze hair pin. It was shiny and delicate, twisted into the form of a dragonfly. Magic had obviously been used in its making, although only to help shape the metal - if it had been transfigured the spell would have worn off. "It's my mother's hair pin," she said, looking at it fondly. "She gave it to me when I was just little."

"Why don't you wear it?"

Ayati looked startled, as if she'd never even considered it. "Mostly because I was scared of losing it. But I suppose…" She picked up the hairpin, handing him the box. Pulling her hair forward, she tied it into an elegant mass of loose curls at the side of her head, tumbling forward over her shoulders; Ayati had always had beautiful hair, no matter how sick she had become… it fell in ebony waves, and it shined enough that when she was outside it would shimmer blue on sunny days. She secured it with a thin strip of soft leather, and into the middle she placed the pin, which gleamed brightly despite the grey light leaking through the shuttered windows. "How's that?"

"You're beautiful," he blurted. His skin darkened. "I… the pin, I mean. It's really nice."

"Thank you," she replied, smiling. It was the first real smile she'd given anyone in days.

"Are you two all set?" asked Rahn as he and Mallika stepped into the room. He held a pot under one arm, which he hefted at their curious looks. "A pot of horklump juice. Not dangerous, but if left too long it'll start to stink something terrible. I don't know what he was planning to do with it, so I'll just pour it into the sewer. Nothing else to worry about up there… Sakah was always careful to keep things clean."

Rahji shot a sideways glance at Ayati, remembering her comment about Sakah's tiredness at the end. Fortunately she didn't take the unwary remark as a bitter reminder, simply nodding.

"Oh, you're wearing your mother's hairpin!" his father observed. "It looks very good on you. Do you have everything?" She nodded, gesturing at her bedroll and her large basket of clothing. "Okay… Rahji, could you carry the basket? And the mattress… hmm." He paused, considering how he could carry the bulky reed basket and the pot of juice at the same time.

"Just a moment," Mallika interrupted. "Rahji, did Sakah teach you the Feather-Light charm?"

"Yes, Mal- uh, Mistress."

"Then you cast it on the basket, and Ayati can carry it. You carry the bed."

He was intensely aware that everyone in the room was watching him, but he drew his wand and cast the charm without a problem. He bent over to lift the rolled mattress and reed mat into his shoulder, while Ayati did the same with the basket - a bit of her delight with magic showing as she easily hefted the big basket onto the crown of her head, holding it steady with one hand while she tucked the tiny box under her other arm.

They stepped out of the house, and Rahn waved his wand to seal the door. He turned to Ayati. "The house is yours, Ayati. Anytime you want in, just ask Mallika or myself. We'll make time."

She bobbed a small curtsey. "Thank you."

"Let's get you settled in."

The four of them navigated the walk over to Mallika's home with little trouble, pausing only long enough for Rahn to stop by a cesspit to empty the pot. They were stopped numerous times by people wishing to express their condolences to the young girl, who accepted with sad politeness. Others made sympathetic faces as they walked by, making quiet comments among themselves admiring Ayati's spirit. Most, thankfully, didn't single her out at all.

Not all the whispered comments were sympathetic, or even charitable. A short, thin man, standing next to his equally-short and even thinner wife, watched them walk by from a bench. Rahji found himself reaching for his wand as their muttered words reached him.

- all alone now… -

- not a surprise, her entire family died taking care of her… parents got themselves killed by a dragon -

- such a waste, it would have been better if she'd died as a child… no magic to speak of, far too much effort -

Rahji hissed through his teeth. Red filled his vision, and he nearly walked into the back of Mallika; the careless words had reached the witch as well, and she'd halted in the middle of the street to turn and glare at the pair. Her expression was as close to malevolent as any he'd ever seen, and his own anger was forgotten as he wondered if the loose-tongued couple were going to be sent to the gods then and there.

The two noticed her look and the way the air seemed ready to ignite. They paled, standing and scurrying away down a side street. Through her wand was in her hand, Mallika didn't send spellfire to hurry them along. She turned to him, her anger disappearing as quickly as it had appeared, shaking her head. Master and student shared a moment of annoyed frustration before she clapped a hand on his shoulder, and they hustled to catch up with Rahn and Ayati. The girl thankfully hadn't heard what had been said - at least, Rahji hoped she hadn't - and was looking back at them curiously.

Soon they were walking down the alley that lead to Mallika's door, and as soon as they neared it swung open for them on its own. "I'll modify the wards so they know you live here as well," the witch remarked.

"Your magic is always so interesting!" Ayati sighed as she set down her basket. Rahji looked around, unsure where to put the bedroll.

"I normally sleep upstairs," Mallika said. "I can move down here, or if you'd prefer to have a room by yourself-"

"I can take the stairs," Ayati said shyly. "I know I couldn't before, but I've felt much better since you healed me. And I don't think I want to sleep alone."

"That's fine. Rahji, you can bring that upstairs."

He nodded, hesitantly following Ayati as she carried her basket up the brick stairs. He tried not to gawk as he did - he'd never been to the upper floor of Mallika's house, although if he was going to be learning magic from her he supposed he'd be visiting much more. He spotted the staff she'd first had in Karmanapura leaning against the wall in one corner; a couple of terracotta pots were nearby, and in the center of the room was a large woven mat. Mallika's home had a much smaller central area, barely large enough to hold the well, and a wooden balcony looked down upon it, stretching to the other half of the house and the bedroom. Ayati set her basket down in a corner, then reclaimed her bedroll from Rahji, boldly crossing the balcony into the bedroom. He unthinkingly followed her, watching her lay her mat and mattress out on the other side of the room from the cot that obviously belonged to Mallika.

Ayati noticed him as she kneeled to smooth the mattress, squinting as the corner of her mouth curled up. "This is the girls' room, Rahji, tsk tsk." The boy eeped, turning and scurrying back into the other part of the house, a soft giggle from Ayati behind him.

Mallika and Father climbed the stairs just as Ayati returned from the bedroom, but fortunately Rahji had tamed his blush by then.

"Settled in?" Mallika asked. Ayati nodded. "Did you want to sleep for a bit? You were restless last night."

"Actually-" The rest of her response was made unnecessary as Ayati's stomach growled loudly; the girl blushed furiously.

The older woman raised an eyebrow. "Hungry already? That's good. Would you like some bread and dates?"

"Yes, please."

"Did you want to join us, you two?" Mallika asked the two men.

Rahn shook his head. "We'll head home and let you two settle in. Ayati, if you need anything, just let us know. Both of us are glad to help."

"Thank you, Master Rahn," she replied, giving the First a hug. "And thank you, Rahji." After briefly embracing him, she went one step further and stood on her toes to kiss the young man on the cheek.

His face burned, but the place where her lips had touched burned even hotter. He was sure he was staring stupidly, but Ayati didn't comment on it. Thankfully, neither did Mallika or Father… although they both gave him knowing looks. The blush lasted as Rahn said farewell and lead him back out into the streets of Karmanapura. His father's hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder, guiding him along as if he was in a daze.

Father seemed to know what he was feeling as he glanced down at his son with a knowing and wistful smile. "Brace yourself, Rahji… it only gets more odd from here."