Leotide City rose on the western shore of the lake, and the bulk of the city formed a crescent shape around the water. Crops covered the rich earth of the river basin, and small towns and big farmhouses dotted the surrounding landscape.

Eli couldn't pinpoint the line between the countryside and the city. As he rode closer, at the rear of the little caravan, the scattered hamlets simply merged into a single town, then the dirt road turned to cobblestone and the buildings grew from one story to two or three.

"Not enough trees," Lara said, in dryn.

He looked down at her. She was substantially below him, riding Fern instead of one of the horses. She was done with horses.

"You're ridiculous," he said, also in dryn.

When she'd started riding the donkey, he'd demanded that she teach him that word. Always planning ahead.

"She likes it," Lara said.

"Sure, doing a favor."

In front of them, Lady Brazinka's carriage rolled toward the center of the city. Fishhook and three other mercs rode in front, while a half-dozen more flanked the carriage. The armed escort may have embarrassed Brazinka, because at her word, Fishhook led the others toward some tavern called 'the Goat & Goose,' leaving only Dorgo and Twoeyes.

Well, along with Eli and Lara--and Mage Elsavet, who was herself all the protection anyone might require outside of a serious attack. Though there was no reason to expect trouble. Leotide City was five or six times the size of Rockbridge and equally law-abiding. A lady like Brazinka could probably stroll in every neighborhood except the absolute worst ones and be greeted with nothing but respect. Leotide was far more colorful then Rockbridge, though--half of the people on the streets wore bright blues and greens, with flashes of yellows and reds. The doors were painted to match, and even the signage was at least as ornamental as it was informational.

Lara gave a trill of pleasure at the sight. "You didn't tell me it was so pretty."

"I only spent a fiveday here," Eli told her. "Ten years ago. And it poured down rain the entire time."

Twenty minutes later, they entered the Old City. Which, to Eli's surprise, was actually built lower to the ground than the surrounding neighborhoods, and with wider streets. Whitewashed stone walls faced the streets, with wide, brightly-painted gates. When he sent a spark to peek over the walls, he found compounds comprised of multiple freestanding one-story buildings around gardens and courtyards and ponds.

Some looked grand, but most were humbler.

Well, relatively humbler. Enough for a large family, servants to match, and a few modest promenades with ginko trees and gazebos.

When they reached Lady Brazinka's home--or compound--the sky blue gates spread wide to welcome them. Inside the walls, a large compound greeted them: large, but untidy. The side buildings looked like they'd been shuttered for a long time. Only the main building in front of them looked inhabited. Barely-tamed tangles of flowers and herbs overspilled once-elegant gardens. The gravel path winding around the back of the building was only half-weeded and the stables were empty.

Two middle-aged maids bustled forward, bringing a stepstool to the carriage, while an ancient stableman grabbed hold of the horses' reins.

Lady Brazinka took one of the maid's hands and stepped down, followed by Mage Elsavet, and Eli wondered what the vale he was doing there. Even a run-down compound was too fancy for him, too formal. He couldn't get comfortable with--

A crone appeared in the front door, shaking a ladle at Lady Brazinka. "No warning! You give me no warning? I know you were raised better than that, little miss! Who is this? You bring guests? With no warning, you bring guests! The rooms are a shame. A shame! I work, I work, the whole time you're gallivanting, but there is too much! And these girls." She shook her ladle at the middle-aged maids. "These girls are no good! Don't know how to work. I would lie down and die except then what would happen to you? Everything would fall apart! What are you standing there? Come, come, inside, I'll bring tea and biscuits. How many guests rooms you need? Who is that one?" She squinted toward Eli and Lara. "He is a brigand. Look at her hair, though! You should pray for hair like that, little miss, you should beg the Angel for hair like that instead of your mouse nest."

"I'm glad to see you too, Nanny," Lady Brazinka said, perfectly composed.

"Bah!" Nanny said, and vanished back inside.

So apparently it wasn't formal here. Eli stifled a smile, and elbowed Lara when he saw a dangerous glint of humor in her eyes.

"Disgraceful harpie," Elsavet muttered, too softly for anyone but a spark to hear.

Lady Brazinka stepped inside, then turned to Eli and Lara with a gleam in her eyes that matched Lara's. She simply invited them inside, though, where she presided over an immaculately-laid table of tea and biscuits. After days of sharing meals on the journey, in makeshift camps and inns, Eli felt pretty comfortable despite the fine porcelain and silver.

Well, plus the old woman's endless complaining made clear that this wasn't a house in which manners were strictly enforced.

Brazinka had insisted that they stay with her. Which was generous ... but also inevitable. They'd lost most their money in the bandit camp, and had been reduced to wearing mercenaries' castoff.

Which served well enough, the next day, for exploring the city. Lara insisted that they get their bearings, and familiarize themselves their immediate surroundings before settling in. Another one of Chivat Lo's lessons.

The day after that, training started. Eli waited for Mage Elsavet in a dusty side yard, protected on three sides by walls and on the fourth by a profusely overgrown peach tree. Which Lara, naturally, adored."Get down from there," Eli told her.

"Why?"

"You're training, too."

"I'm a mage now?"

"With a sword. Your blowgun is effective against , but what're the chances that's all we're going to fight?"

"I'm half your size. Bury my bones, I'm half size."

"You're never going to be strong," Fishhook told her, stepping around the tree. "So be quick. Be fast and precise and graceful."

Lara wrinkled her nose. "Meek asked you to work with me?"

"I trained Riadn, and she was no bigger than you."

"She was as Shepherd, too.

Fishhook showed her a thin-bladed sword. "This was hers. It's yours now, if you'll take it."

Lara swallowed. "Is that ... okay?"

"You move like she moved. She'd want you to have it."

That decided her. She swung down from the tree and landed lightly beside Fishhook. He led her to the next yard--even smaller--as Eli watched Mage Elsavet approach through a high spark. They'd spoken a few times, sitting together in the carriage on the trip to Leotide City, so she knew the basic outlines of his abilities. And she'd touched him with hers, experimentally. Yet he still didn't understand how she guided newly-Flared mages onto Paths that she herself hadn't travelled. Still, his core had responded to her power. Not as strongly as to the Reach. Not nearly. More like how a pond reacts to a reed growing the shallows. It flowed and rippled around the solidity of her.

Apparently, for the newly-Flared, that was enough. At least, after a day of effort, while she spoke with them about their choices of a first Path. Yet Eli hadn't felt any Path open in front of him, or call to his Flaring. He'd already gone too far from the starting point.

Elsavet had felt his power, too. He'd pressed a spark into her upraised palm and her stern expression had change briefly to surprise. "Very nearly invisible."

"Yeah."

"That's useful," she'd said, touching her shawl. "I must depend upon glass beads if I want to achieve the same effect."

He'd squinted at her shawl, belatedly noticing the beadwork on the fringe. "That's what those are for?"

"Plus fashion, of course," Brazinka had said, looking up from her embroidery. "Your ... what did you call them, 'sparks'?"

"Yeah."

"You create them from the air?"

"Not really," he said. "I don't create them. They're just there."

"That's even more remarkable," Elsavet told him. "You saw what happened to me when I held my shields too long. Yet you've maintained your sparks for ..."

"A good while now," he'd said, refusing to get specific.

He still hadn't told them everything. They'd seen his powers, at least some of them, when he'd fought the Bloodwitch, but they didn't know who he was, or who he'd been. They thought he was Meek, and knew nothing about the trolls. Whether or not they believe he was dryn, he didn't know. He and Lara often spoke dryn together, which must've gone a long way toward convincing them. Still, he wasn't sure what kind of 'assurances' Brazinka could feel about him.

Though watching Elsavet step forward join him, he wondered again if he should simply admit everything. But he didn't.

"Let's see what you're capable of, Mir Meek. I heard what you did with the Bloodwitch but didn't witness it."

"Would you just call me Meek?"

"As you wish. And you may refer to me as Mir Elsavet."He snorted a laugh and touched her throat gently with a spark.

"Well!" she said, lifting a hand to her neck. "Now retract them for a moment."

He did.

"Are they beside you? Good. I'll raise a shield and you'll attempt to break through."

He waited until he saw a faint shimmer around her, then fired a spark forward.

When it struck the mage-shield, he felt the scrape of magic against magic in his teeth. Not painful, but still horrible. The shield held, so he punched another spark at Elsavet. That still didn't break the shield, so he sent four sparks spinning in a wheel, striking the same spot repeatedly.

He couldn't break through--so he snuck one around the shield, which only covered her in half-circle, and touched the back of her neck.

"Mir Meek!" she said. "Focus on the task, if you please."

"I can't break through."

"Mm. Well, your maneuverability, that degree of control, is remarkable, but your strength is not. So for today, I'd like to gauge your current level of brute power, if you'll excuse the term, to establish a baseline. Please, continue. Then we'll try with a moderate shield."

"This is your strongest?"

"This is my weakest," she told him. "But I wish to measure all possible variables."

He spent hours battering at her weakest shield to no effect. He didn't do any better against her stronger ones, of course. He wasn't sure what she was 'gauging,' though he felt the probe of her skills a few times. And at least he got used to the scrape of magic against magic.

In the end, she rewarded him with a spar.

"Is your healing as comprehensive as I've heard?" she asked.

"If it doesn't kill me outright, it probably won't," he said.

"Probably?" she said.

"Yeah. And pain still hurts. What about you?"

"If you touch me, you win." She patted her hair. "No need to be rough with an old woman."

"Oh, I'd never--" he started, and a warhammer punched his shoulder and threw him backwards.

A valedamned glass bead, shot from between Elsavet's fingers when she'd patted her hair. Sneaky old woman.

Pain flared and Eli let himself fall onto his back, to present a smaller target. He heard another bead whip past, four inches above his nose. He shoved two sparks into the ground to his right, sliding himself leftward, then punched two more downward to help himself stand.

He rose running, then ducked another bead.

He hadn't seen it, because her beads were semi-transparent, and moved ten times faster than dryn darts. But his fifth spark, the one watching her, pressing softly against her shield, had caught a blur of motion from her shawl--and had noticed that that bead had fired her shield.

Which was impossible. Shields blocked force in both directions.

The bead cracked into the wall behind Eli and he realized that Elsavet must've opened a hole in her shield for an instant. A small hole, just enough to let the bead through.

Which meant that she'd opened a hole in her shield to let his through.

Some of the most advanced Arrow mages could manipulated their projectiles on the fly, almost as much as he moved his sparks. But Elsavet wasn't primarily an Arrow mage. She could only shoot in a straight line.

Which meant she'd open a hole directly between them every time she attacked. He just needed to follow that line back to her.

Though if he wanted to exploit that weakness he needed to get closer. That first hit had driven him out of range.

He veered into the wall, then shoved off with a spark, trying to keep his movements unpredictable. Another bead whizzed passed. He zigzagged as he moved his spark into place on her shield, then sprinted two steps and--

Found himself looking at the sky.

He felt the impact a moment later. A bead had torn a chunk from his right calf and he'd twisted and fallen. So hard that he lay there stunned for two heartbeats. Long enough that she could've finished him, if she'd chosen.

Her placid face appeared above him. "Well," she said. "We have a lot to learn."