Saphienne had no doubt: she was in trouble.

  She sat – now pretending to meditate – in the parlour with the two senior apprentices, thinking through the ramifications of what was unfolding. Almon had been instructed by the Luminary Vale to investigate the clearing where she had freed the apostate spirit. Assuming that the spirits of the woodland had not lied, then one of the High Masters of Luminary Vale already knew exactly what had happened — including the names of Saphienne and everyone else involved.

  Why send Almon? Either the intent was to have Almon discover what his apprentices had been up to, or to confirm that the account delivered by the woodland spirits was authentic. The latter seemed more likely: it would be simpler to tell Almon what his apprentices had done, were that the desired outcome.

  The key question was how much Almon already knew. Rydel and Taerelle had no idea where to find the clearing, and had been searching for it throughout the night. They had been told it was veiled by an old and powerful Fascination spell, obscured for a least a millennium. Either Almon hadn’t shared what was inside, or he didn’t know himself… but if Saphienne was right about the circle of salt around the building, he had warded against spirits intruding on the search.

  She tried not to show her frown. Protecting against the spirits of the woodland implied that Almon had reason to believe they might either observe or interfere with what he and his students were doing, which suggested he knew the clearing was the work of spirits, and that he or the Luminary Veil had reason to distrust them.

  Her conjecture came together: if this was about confirming what the spirits had told the Luminary Vale, Almon would have been given only the information he needed to conduct his investigation. The more he knew, the more his findings would be prejudiced.

  Saphienne’s thoughts then strayed to what would follow if he found out about her involvement — or that of Celaena and Iolas. She couldn’t see any scenario in which their master wouldn’t dismiss her and Iolas from apprenticeship… perhaps finding pretext to retain Celaena, on account of who her father was. Even if Almon believed that Saphienne and Celaena had both been manipulated by a spirit, the wizard disliked Saphienne, and Iolas had demonstrated poor judgement in not going directly to him. And as for poor Faylar? His involvement would confirm Almon was right not to teach him.

  Her only option was to make sure that–

  That was when Saphienne realised she was in two different kinds of trouble.

  If she prevented Almon from finding out anything about what had happened, then she would be frustrating whoever had commanded him from the Luminary Vale. She had no idea how they might react to his failure… or what that would mean for her future as his apprentice. And if they responded by sharing the details with Almon? She would have no future in wizardry at all.

  But she was assuming she could do something, and that she wouldn’t be caught. As she studied the two apprentices in black robes through her barely-open eyes, Saphienne had the sinking feeling that she was completely out of her depth. She couldn’t cast even the simplest spell, lacked any substantial insight into magic… and she was alone against three highly capable scholars with honed and inquisitive minds. All she had over them was that they didn’t know her involvement, and the chance that they would maybe underestimate her.

  Doing nothing was no option. No wizard worth their robes would let a magical mystery lie unexplained — and from what she could tell, both Almon and Taerelle were heavily invested in maintaining their reputations with the Luminary Vale. Whether now or later on, they would find and pull at a loose thread, and unravel the whole nightmare.

  She had to act, without being seen to act. Much like Hyacinth had–

  Her breath caught.

  Hyacinth could help! She would have to help: Saphienne could demand any one service from the spirit. All Saphienne had to do was learn as much as she could about the investigation, and find a way to warn Hyacinth before it progressed to the clearing. Together, they could find a way to keep Saphienne and her friends safe.

  Her plan was clear: learn whatever she could, buy as much time as possible for Hyacinth to intervene, warn the spirit, and avoid outing herself in the process.

  …Assuming Hyacinth could do something…

  There was only one way to find out.

  * * *

  Her first step was to sit, watch, and listen.

  Rydel was sat on the floor near the window, methodically searching through his maps with obvious frustration. After several minutes she realised that he was referencing them against a large sheet of paper laid out underneath, and when he brushed them aside to lift it she saw that it was another, more abstract map, covered in scribbled shorthand that was thick with questions. He produced a small stick of charcoal from his robes, adding to his notes with the sharpened point.

  Taerelle, meanwhile, appeared to be doing very little. She rested in the high-backed chair of their master, metal bowl laid on her lap and necklace in her hand, holding the necklace over the bowl so that the quartz pendant hung, swaying, above it. There was no spell at work that Saphienne could discern, but Taerelle’s eyes were closed and her lips were moving, suggestive of magic in progress.

  Returning her attention to Rydel, Saphienne tried to read his scrawl. Although she had the benefit of elven eyesight, seeing what was written from across the room while her eyes were mostly closed was challenging–

  “You can watch us,” Rydel said, his gaze not leaving his work. “Just don’t interrupt.”

  Saphienne blushed, and flashed a guilty smile; he would never know how sincerely she meant the nod of thanks she gave him.

  Unfortunately, his writing was mystifying. Half of it was comprised of symbols she had never seen before and had no idea how to decipher, while the rest was in abbreviations meant only to be understood by their author. Judging by the positions of his annotations, she guessed he was inferring where he and Taerelle might want to search, perhaps eliminating locations that were incompatible with the clearing they were seeking. She felt far from confident she was right.

  Taerelle moved the necklace away from the bowl and sighed. “This is pointless. I’ve gone over those resonances five times now: there’s nothing I can sense that we haven’t accounted for.”

  “There must be,” Rydel murmured. “The only possibility is that it’s masked by another resonance. If it’s been here as long as our master says, that means there must be a sympathetic connection between it and the surrounding area, which we know has to be an area of magical confluence, which in turns means that the masking resonance–”

  “I know!” She flicked her braid in irritation, then began winding it up between her fingers. “But every single candidate you’ve found is clean. No magnification, no distortion, nothing remarkable at all.”

  He put down the paper and faced her. “Fine. That means I’ve missed something. Want to check my work again?”

  “No,” she sighed again. “Wherever it’s hiding, we’ve both missed it.”

  “Then, what do you want to do? We have maybe thirty minutes before our master is ready.” He rubbed his face, coughed into his hand. “I think our method is sound, but it hasn’t worked, so whichever wizard veiled the damn thing must have prepared for our approach. Countermeasures?”

  “Intriguing thought.” She dropped her braid, set the bowl aside, and folded her arms as she hunched forward. “How would you stop us? No — how would a master of Fascination stop us?”

  “…Well, we’ve already factored in the latent dissuasion of the fascination, and so we’ve been over all the key places that seemed impossible.” He mirrored her posture, hunching forward as he concentrated. “Let’s assume we got that right.”

  “The alternative,” Taerelle proposed, “is that there’s another fascination at work…” She looked up, eyebrow raised. “…Maybe attracting us to examine decoy locations, or to consider avenues of investigation that are fruitless?”

  They mulled it over.

  “…Then, we’d be fucked.” Rydel shook his head. “A triggered fascination of that sophistication would be beyond the Third Degree — maybe even the Fourth Degree. And who would have the presence of mind to set an entirely separate fascination, contingent on your divinations, just in case someone came at it this way?”

  “We may be fucked,” Taerelle admitted, “so there’s no point dwelling on what we’re powerless to change. Assuming our method hasn’t been deliberately countered, and that we’ve not made a mistake implementing it, we’re left with the fact it doesn’t work — which means it’s flawed by premise. We’ve made an assumption somewhere, and the oversight–”

  “Back to basics.” Rydell stood, stretched, and moved to lean by the window, silhouetted in the morning light. “What do we know?”

  “We’re looking for a clearing, contents unknown, veiled by a powerful Fascination spell, put in place by an unidentified wizard or sorcerer.” She sat back and closed her eyes as she spoke. “Logically, to produce a fascination of such potency and resilience, the wizard or sorcerer must have attained at least the Third Degree. They were active over a thousand years ago, may still be active today, and we can infer they had some proficiency in Invocation from our master’s ward.”

  Saphienne suppressed her smile: she had been right about the salt.

  “Alright,” Rydel agreed. “Have we made an assumption in any of that? Anything we haven’t considered?”

  The two pondered.

  Saphienne thought quickly. Surely, Almon had to have been warned that spirits were responsible for the clearing — otherwise, there was the risk that he would ask the local woodland spirits about it. That he hadn’t told his apprentices…

  …Almon had once said that teaching moments had to be seized upon when they presented themselves. He was using this as an opportunity to teach Taerelle and Rydel. Perhaps he already knew where the clearing could be found. Even if he didn’t know, he wouldn’t stop if they failed — his search was the one that actually mattered.

  Yet Saphienne wasn’t wasting her time with them. Assuming the wizard wasn’t depending on their work, that gave her an opportunity to earn a favour from the students.

  * * *

  Saphienne’s second step was to raise her hand.

  Rydel shook his head at her. “No interrupting.”

  But Taerelle was more tolerant. “Let’s hear her…” She shrugged off Rydel’s scepticism with a laugh. “…It’s not like we’re getting anywhere, is it?”

  Lowering her arm, Saphienne tried her best to phrase her prompt as though she were merely curious. “I know this is probably obvious, but… how can you tell when a spell was cast by a wizard or a sorcerer? How do you know who or what fashioned the spell?”

  Rydel groaned. “Saphienne, we’re not supposed to teach…”

  He trailed off into silence as realisation dawned, and he swung to look at Taerelle, who was smiling at Saphienne as she shared his insight.

  “You can’t always tell.” Taerelle’s voice was cheerful. “And in this case, we don’t actually know. The fascination could have been the work of a wizard, or a sorcerer, or…”

  Striding with purpose from the window, Rydel snatched up one of the maps. “A spirit! We’re looking for a sacred glade.”

  “A hidden sacred glade — so it won’t be on any maps.” Taerelle steepled her fingers. “We had the right idea, but we’ve been looking from the wrong perspective. How would a spirit hide a Fascination spell?”

  “They wouldn’t mask it with another resonance.” Dimly visible thanks to the light, Saphienne could make out markings through the paper Rydel held, and saw that he was studying a map of local woodland shrines. “Outside the glades, they don’t have enough enchantments in the woodlands of sufficient magnitude, and their spells’ resonance is too distinctive to hide behind elven magic. Unless they hid a glade within a glade?”

  “The glades are mapped,” Taerelle objected. “And there’s simply no way a priest wouldn’t have spotted it after a thousand years. No, we’ve got it backwards: we’re not looking for areas of magical confluence, we’re looking for somewhere that avoids the activities of wizards and priests. But how would they mask the resonance?”

  “Maybe they don’t mask it,” he thought aloud, lowering the map to meet her gaze. “What if they obscure it another way?”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  Well, at least Saphienne wasn’t alone.

  Folding the map under his arm, he moved to one of the shelves on the right side of the parlour, skimming over the arcane titles. “We’ve been assuming the resonance would be of significant magnitude,” he said, lifting a thick book with a yellow cover, “and so would need to be masked. But there’s another presentation… and Shanaera wrote about it…”

  Taerelle joined him to read over his shoulder. “I don’t recall this one very well… she’s an invoker?”

  “With a particular interest,” Rydel confirmed, grinning as he found the right page and held it up to her. “Since invocation is sensitive to interference from resonance, she came up with a theoretical underpinning to explain how complementary resonance could facilitate passage. And she was inspired by her observation that–”

  “Ley lines!” Taerelle’s mouth had dropped open, and she took the book from his hands. “Gods, I’d forgotten this. ‘The magnitude of the resonance placed on an intersection is distributed across the number of intersecting ley lines by equal division, and so each ley line gains resonance of magnitude and quality equal to the sum distributed from its intersections–’” She laughed, closing the book. “‘…Attenuated by the distance it traverses.’ Dilution: that’s brilliant. How in the world did you remember?”

  “Ley lines affect farming,” he smiled. “One of the questions to ask the local spirits, when expanding cultivation, is whether–”

  “Later.” She returned the book to the shelf and hurriedly snatched up her bowl. “We’re looking for an intersection of– no, we’re looking for a remote location that multiple, long ley lines pass through. Lines that are very close to each other, but not touching.”

  He nodded as he once again returned to pick through the maps. “You’re right: better to simulate an intersection between them using a spell, and keep the source of their resonance disguised. Clever.”

  “Parallel ley lines.” She sat back on the chair, suspending pendant above bowl. “Just give me a starting point at a shrine, and I’ll do the rest.”

  “You have the sympathetic connections?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Rydel, obviously. If people gather there, I’ve maintained a connection. What kind of diviner do you take me for?”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He ignored her irritation as he found the map he was looking for, unfolding it to scan carefully across the network of lines it depicted. Comparing it to the map under his arm, he double-checked, then stood. “East-southeast, the shrine to Our Lord of the Endless Hunt. There’s a ley line running north that ends up parallelled by–”

  “I’ll see.”

  Taerelle whispered, and the quiet, clipped syllables crept eerily throughout the room, stirring a scintillating white light in the quartz pendant she held, light which sparkled eerily where it reflected on the rim of the bowl. Unmoved by her hand, the necklace began to sway back and forth like a pendulum, changing direction erratically, until it suddenly snapped into line with the glimmering on the bowl’s edge.

  “I have the shrine,” Taerelle murmured.

  As the sparkles on the rim intensified, they began to slowly circle it, and after a slight delay the pendant followed, tracked them as they wound sunwise, and then widdershins, then to and fro in smaller arcs of the circumference.

  Trying her luck, Saphienne crept to her feet and approached where Taerelle was seated, careful not to make a sound. Rydel caught her shoulder, and raised his finger against his lips in warning as he spread out his annotated map on the floor before the chair.

  “I’m on the ley line,” Taerelle confirmed, the glittering below the pendant now moving in fast, sunwise circles. “The resonance… I can’t feel anything unusual yet…”

  By degrees, the sparkles left the edge of the bowl and began to spiral inward, dragging the quartz in a tightening gyre. The tension grew as the circles narrowed, the necklace moving faster with each revolution, until at last it hung vertically, the light beneath it pooled in the bottom of the bowl.

  “…I think I have it.” Taerelle opened her eyes. “It’s hard to hold on to.”

  “Can you divine its location?” Rydel asked, his breathing shallow.

  “Let’s find out.” She dipped the pendant into the bowl, causing the pool to evaporate — and the glowing pendant to brighten. As she rose, she thrust the now-empty bowl into Saphienne’s hands – who nearly dropped it in fumbling surprise – and stood astride the map laid out on the floor, gradually lowering the magically-imbued necklace as she intoned a new spell, gesturing with her other hand in precise, curt flicks that reminded Saphienne of pushing the beads on an abacus.

  As the senior apprentice crouched, the necklace she held trembled over the sheet… and then swung toward its eastern edge.

  “Two to four miles due east of the village,” Taerelle announced, grinning. “There’s a strong Fascination spell veiling something out there.”

  Rydel inhaled, then slowly breathed out. “Can’t be any more precise?”

  “I don’t have good sympathy to the exact location.” She let go of the necklace as she straightened up; the pendant hung in place for a moment, then slowly floated down to the map as the magic faded away. “We’re going to have to search for candidate locations, then send Peacock.”

  “I’ll lay out a grid,” Rydel agreed, and went to gather up more detailed maps.

  Beneath the thrill of watching them work, Saphienne was quietly amused: they were so focused on their discovery, neither of them had bothered to thank her. She suspected they had forgotten her help.

  Of course, she said nothing. Being overlooked suited her purpose.

  * * *

  Unfortunately for Taerelle and Rydel, they immediately encountered a problem: the maps they had of the forest to the east were flawed.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” Rydel complained, staring from the sheets he still held to the gap between those on the floor.

  Taerelle was unsympathetic as she took the maps from his unresisting hands. “You lined them up the wrong way. Starting from the top… left…” She frowned as she shuffled through the sheaf in her hands, looking back and forth between her pages and the space before her. “…Are we missing a few areas? No, they’re all labelled…”

  Rydel was too tired to be offended by her. “There has to be a mistake.”

  “We’re just exhausted,” Taerelle replied. “I’ll lay out the grid again.”

  Saphienne watched them from near the window, observing as they lifted the maps that had been laid out and started over. Each sheet was labelled with a number in the corner, and then each edge had a number corresponding to another map, allowing them to be set out side-by-side to form an expansive overview of the woodlands. Made by the Wardens of the Wilds, the maps were accurate down to individual trees, and marked elevations, rivers and channels for rainfall, and the flora and fauna to be found in every mile of the local woodlands.

  The only issue was that, plainly, there was a section where the maps simply didn’t fit together. There were only four sheets for a square area that ought to have been filled by nine — and the surrounding edges duplicated numbers, stating that each of the four inner maps should occupy two different, adjacent places.

  It took her a minute, but Saphienne understood what had happened: the Wardens–

  “Your time has elapsed,” Almon announced, descending the stairs in a thicker, more practical set of robes than he usually wore, their dark navy fastened with unembellished buttons. He had a staff of polished ash wood in his hand, upon which Peacock was precariously perched, the familiar flapping his wings to remain balanced as his master came to a halt. “I sense that you have been unsuccessful.”

  Rydel dropped the sheets he was holding. “We identified its general vicinity, and we know how it’s been hidden.”

  “Really?” Almon smiled as he moved to his chair, sitting on its edge as Peacock fluttered onto its high back. “Nine hours of work, and you haven’t found it?”

  “We’re close,” Taerelle promised him. “If it weren’t for these maps–”

  The wizard’s smile became a grin as he waved the matter off. “Never mind the maps for now. Tell me what you have uncovered.”

  Looking at each other, the students in black shrugged.

  Saphienne studied Almon as they recounted their night. Despite their failure, he looked inordinately pleased the more he heard — confirming her suspicions that this was one of his lessons. He paid her no attention, intently focused on what Taerelle and Rydel told him. Neither senior apprentice mentioned that Saphienne had played a role in their most recent discovery, but together they went into great detail about how the spell was hidden through ley lines, though she didn’t quite understand what it all meant.

  “Fascinating,” Almon commented when they were done, being entirely sincere. “Which of you two recollected Shanaera’s thesis? Was it Rydel?”

  “For all the good it did us,” he answered, glumly.

  “On the contrary: you’ve both done remarkably well.” Almon sprang to his feet, spry with enthusiasm as he carried his staff over to where the maps had been discarded. “Admittedly, you took nine hours to work out what I discovered in one, and you accomplished it in the most roundabout way imaginable, but you uncovered a few things I hadn’t realised. And so, on the whole?” He smiled at the pair. “Not bad work.”

  Saphienne judged his mood carefully, then spoke up. “So where’s the clearing?”

  He had forgotten about her, but swiftly recovered. “Spoken as though you followed along! How much did these two share with you?”

  “I know there’s a secret clearing, veiled by a Fascination spell, hidden by the spirits of the woodlands, and that it’s over a thousand years old. The Luminary Vale wants to know what’s inside.”

  The wizard glanced at his older students. “I expect you haven’t, but have either of you directly taught her anything this morning? Speak now if you have — I’ll forgive the indiscretion.”

  Rydel frowned. “Not that I can recall. But we didn’t censor ourselves–”

  “And was she well behaved?”

  Taerelle laughed as Saphienne folded her arms and glared. “We have no complaints.”

  “Good.” Almon turned back to Saphienne. “Since you decided to come along today anyway, I hope you learned something from watching these two. Their collaborative methods are exemplary.”

  Behind the wizard, his senior apprentices stood a little taller.

  “You will write me a summary of what you heard them discuss, and your conjecture as to what it all meant. I will neither confirm nor deny,” he went on, “but I will plan the forthcoming lessons to account for whatever scraps they fed you. I expect your summary by the day after tomorrow.”

  If she was still his apprentice by the end of the day, she had planned to make notes anyway; Saphienne gave him a perfunctory bow.

  “As to your question…” He turned back to the two students, and tapped the discarded maps with his staff. “Rydel, Taerelle: lay these out again.”

  Rydel shook his head. “There’s a problem with–”

  “A wizard,” Almon interrupted, “should not have to repeat an instruction to his apprentices.”

  Taerelle canted her head. “He’s got that look: our master knows something we don’t, and he’s not going to share until it’s staring us in the face.” She bent over and began laying them out in order, reluctantly joined by Rydel.

  Stepping back beside Saphienne to make room for them, Almon quietly murmured in her ear. “Here’s what you need to know: this particular Fascination spell addles the mind, causing anyone who falls under its sway to dismiss whatever it hides, and to forget their lack of interest. It renders the subject it protects unremarkable and easily forgotten. Those who are undefended against it will overlook inconsistencies that suggest anything is amiss, and even those who are aware of it will have to battle their own inattention to notice anything out of the ordinary.”

  She hadn’t expected him to explain anything. Careful to pretend she knew less than she did, she asked, “When you say aware, does that mean–”

  “No questions.” He leant on his staff. “I have told you enough to follow along. See if you can figure it out.”

  Rydel and Taerelle paused to looked at each other, incredulous — and concerned that they had missed something obvious. In due course, they finished their task, and laid out the four remaining maps in the middle of the vacant space.

  “It would appear,” Almon dryly noted, “that you are five sheets short of a discovery.”

  “The maps are wrong,” Rydel said, flatly.

  “Yes.” Almon glanced between them. “What are your next steps?”

  Taerelle was prepared. “Unless there are other maps available, we should start in the first of the nine vacant areas, and send Peacock to–”

  “Wrong.” Almon was enjoying himself. “Rydel — any better?”

  “…Were we rested, I suppose we could divine–”

  “Also wrong.” He turned to Saphienne. “Since you have a penchant for asking questions… what should the next step be?”

  Deliberately seeking reassurance from Taerelle first, and receiving her encouraging nod, Saphienne faced the wizard. “…Ask why the maps are wrong?”

  Both of the senior apprentices let out moaning sighs. Rydel walked away, leaning against the far shelves with his head down; Taerelle rubbed her temples. From from his position on the high chair, Peacock laughed raucously at the pair of them.

  “Continuing this line of inquiry,” their master gloated, “what do you suppose is the issue with the maps, unproven apprentice?”

  Though she had worked it out before he arrived, Saphienne took the time to walk around the grid before she answered. “…The Wardens of the Wilds were affected by the Fascination spell when they surveyed the area, and so the maps they produced are missing the veiled clearing. It’s somewhere in the middle of this expanse.” She phrased her last comment as a question. “The spell prevented the wardens from noticing the discrepancy?”

  “Master,” Taerelle asked wearily, dropping her hands to her sides, “when you located the clearing last night, did you cast any–”

  “Not a single one.” He used the end of his staff to nudge the four sheets apart, showing where they loosely matched with the outer edges. “After acquiring the maps, I did exactly what you have done here: methodically laid them out, row by row, starting five miles east of the village. The east,” he explained, “is the direction of the rising sun, which woodland spirits favour, especially since the sun feeds their magic.”

  Rydel walked over and studied the gap. “You spotted the error in this area, reasoned that a mistake like this is unusual, and made the obvious connection to how it was originally mapped.” He withered as he spoke. “Obvious, in retrospect. If we had been more awake… if we had done this first…”

  “Yes! What if you had started there?” Almon looked between the pair of them. “You approached the puzzle looking for a way to solve it with your magic. What should you have done?”

  Taerelle staggered over to her master’s chair, and sat on it, putting her head in her hands. Her voice was faintly muffled. “We should have started with what we could find out without my divinations, and tried to work out the answer using mundane means. Once we hit a wall… that was when we should have used magic, to scale it.”

  “And why is that, Rydell?”

  “So that we didn’t get sidetracked from answering the question.” He leaned back, staring forlornly at the ceiling. “The question wasn’t ‘How can we use magic to find the clearing?’ We were just meant to find the clearing.”

  Taerelle lay her chin on her palms, staring contemplatively at Saphienne. “That’s how she got there ahead of us. Precocious little–” She closed her eyes. “…This is humiliating.”

  “Narrow vision,” Almon declared, “is one of the greatest dangers to progress. When you lose sight of your objective, and invest in your chosen method rather than your intended outcome, you will inevitably and unconsciously make assumptions that favour your misguided obsession.” He let his smile fade. “In all seriousness: very well done on working out how the spell is obscured. You caught up to where I am, and you learned more than I uncovered. I will include your conclusions in my report to the Luminary Vale.”

  “But the lesson,” Taerelle said, “is to slow down, and think practically.”

  “More or less.” He gave the pair a bow. “A hard lesson to learn. You both took nine hours, overnight, so I expect you won’t be quick to forget it.”

  Studying the maps, Saphienne asked, “So you don’t know exactly where it is?”

  “Not yet,” he admitted. “But based on what Taerelle and Rydel learned, once we get out there, we’ll walk the area until we find a ley line, then follow it until we lose it. One alternative would be to methodically remap the area with divination from either edge, until the surveys overlap and the measurements conflict. I worked out a few different methods we could try.”

  Saphienne raised her eyebrows. “We?”

  “Myself, Taerelle, and Rydel.” He gave her a cruel smile. “You are not sufficiently qualified to come with us. You may leave, Saphienne.”

  “Wait,” Rydel interjected — giving Saphienne a moment of hope; but he was not about to advocate for her. “Taerelle and I, we’ve both been awake for over a day, and most of our spells are–”

  “The flesh may be weak,” Almon answered, “but the Great Art provides. I have prepared a transmutation that will refresh you and your magical capacities. It comes with a cost: you will be enfeebled tomorrow, while you recover. Any objections?” When none were forthcoming, he nodded. “Good. Consult your spellbooks. Any sigils you hold will be revitalised, so plan substitutions accordingly, and coordinate for your strengths.”

  Taerelle nodded. “In terms of divinations… spells for scrutiny and identification?”

  “And location,” her master agreed. “We may find sympathetic connections to follow. Consider the clearing our starting point, rather than our end.”

  Saphienne put on a show of disappointment as she slunk over to her satchel, lifting it with obvious resentment before–

  “Master,” Taerelle spoke up, “deferring to your judgement, would it be dangerous for Saphienne to join us until we find the fascination?”

  Almon was in the middle of gathering up the relevant maps, and he gave the matter some thought as he ordered them. “No,” he concluded, “but any further beyond that point would be risking her safety and our success.”

  “Then, would it be educational–”

  “Yes, it would.” He addressed Taerelle rather than Saphienne. “But you simply don’t appreciate who you’re talking about. Saphienne hasn’t yet learned appropriate caution, and can’t be trusted to know her limits.”

  Within herself, Saphienne felt like laughing and crying at the irony. Instead, she made a show of folding her arms. “Spoken like you know them.”

  “You see?” Almon tilted the staff toward her as he smiled at Taerelle. “You two will do what I command if there’s peril. I can’t say the same for her.”

  Given a good prompt, she stormed out, not quite slamming the door behind her.

  * * *

  As soon as she was out of sight, Saphienne’s third step was to duck down to the flowerbeds surrounding Almon’s home and very carefully tear away one of the blossoms from the back of a hyacinth flower near to his tree. She carried it with her out of the salt circle, and kept walking through the woods in the direction of Celaena’s home until she was sure she wouldn’t be perceived by the wizard and his apprentices.

  Checking that she was alone, she sought out and sat at the base of an old beech tree, then laid the fragment of the bloom before her on the ground. With her finger, she scraped a narrow circle around it in the dirt. She wasn’t sure how much Elfish the spirit would understand, but she remembered Hyacinth had read their body language, and that she had promised to await being called upon. Besides — surely she had to have learned the Elfish for the name she had chosen?

  “Hyacinth.” Saphienne whispered the name, improvising from what she remembered of the first invocation. “Fair and sylvan, friend and servant — come you now unto this circle, wound in bond of peace, in accordance with the ancient ways. Hyacinth. Heed my cry, heed my need — come you now into this circle, wound beneath this beech, in accordance with your ancient ways. Hyacinth. Tread the trod, stride the way — come you forth within this circle, wound that you might reach, in accordance with our ancient ways.”

  Then, she waited, acutely aware that her time was not her own.

  Less than a minute passed before the wind stirred and the bloom shivered, coaxing a smile from Saphienne. She extended her finger to the edge of the circle, and held it there in silent offer as the spirit grew a waving stem to reach her.

  * * *

  This time, the field of flowers in her mind was vibrant red, and Hyacinth – in the floral form of Saphienne – was laughing in delight as she bounded across to where Saphienne sat on the library steps, there to bow before pointing from ear to steps.

  “Yes,” Saphienne allowed.

  As soon as the roots slithered onto the steps Hyacinth giggled. “Fair child of elves! With pageantry, I see. Did you a ritual compose for me? I am fair charmed by such kind flattery. Please set the terms on which we must agree… though ask too much, and I will have to flee.”

  The weariness that Saphienne felt only encouraged Hyacinth.

  “We don’t have time for games,” Saphienne insisted. “You will not use my body or mind without my explicit permission, freely given, sought in advance and with care for my approval. You will never change my mind–”

  “That second stands, forever to abide.”

  Saphienne blinked. “…Good to know. You will speak plainly, without poetry. Do you accept these two terms?”

  Hyacinth crouched on her haunches, aware that Saphienne was stressed. “…I do. And excuse my rhymes: I expected you would demand no further poetry.” She studied her with golden eyes. “You were in the home of the wizard, warded against my entry. I was mildly concerned.”

  “You’re about to be very concerned.” Saphienne didn’t sit, instead paced back and forth along the steps. “The Luminary Vale has dispatched Almon to investigate the clearing. He’s about to head there with two of his senior students, and they’re going to be divining whatever they find.”

  The spirit took a sharp breath. “You apprenticeship is danger. Your blood stains the sacred ground.”

  “I’m calling in the service you owe me: go to the clearing, and clear away–”

  Yet Hyacinth stood. “Saphienne, I cannot.”

  She stopped pacing. “What?”

  “The wizard must not determine that a spirit staged the scene!” Her tone grew worried. “Saphienne: you must be the one to act.”

  End of Chapter 40

  Chapter 41 expected on 20th May 2025.

  Two new chapters every week, Tuesdays and Thursdays... though, my cat is seriously unwell, so disruptions are possible while I give her palliative care. It's hard to do creative work like redrafting when your emotions are up and down.

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