Someone

It's like ice on her skin.
Burning with a fierce passion.
She aches with the pain,
Curls further into herself,
Seeking warmth and relief from the burning.
Her fingers burn
As though her skin is finest kaolin.
A cough escapes,
And a slow breath out counters
To no avail, as it
Transforms into another cough.
She twists away,
From herself,
The world,
The ice and burn,
Into the cold.
More burning,
And she falls into herself again.
Her breath-noise fills her ears,
Loud,
Raspy,
And then suddenly silent.
The world is ethereally silent,
And she opens her eyes.
Moonlight falls like a silver snow.
Stars gleam like dew in the sky.
There is a cool hand against her forehead,
Softening the burning inside.
It is there for
A moment,
Eternity,
Just long enough
To bank her fire and stop the kaolin ache.
A voice calls to her.
She answers, but there is no reply.
Just a feeling of
Someone.

Chapter Thirteen: Follow You

Later, Briar would only recall a blur of activity after Rosethorn's announcement. Sandstorm's face had turned as white as a sheet, but she quickly began to send out orders to collect and count supplies, boost the medicinal stores, and distribute weapons. Dedicates began to stream in and out of the office. By their expressions, Briar guessed that few of them were surprised to hear of the coming war.

Finally, after sending two Earth dedicates to begin shoring the gates, they were alone. Sandstorm leaned back in her chair and sighed. She snapped her fingers and a flame burst into life in her palm. She toyed with it, deep in thought.

Briar smiled, and touched Rosethorn's hand. Have you ever noticed that you do that with the cotton in your sleeves? It gets all excited and tries to blossom.

I do not.


When you're thinking about something you do.

Name a time I did it.


Last time Crane was at Discipline and he showing you his keep-awake tea.


I have no idea what you're talking about.

I can name other times. Like the time Lark-


She wrenched her hand away, and gently smacked his leg. "Briar!"


Sandstorm blinked, and the flame vanished. She looked up at the mages. "Are you planning on leaving or staying on here? I wouldn't blame you if you chose to leave. You're far from home in a dangerous situation, as Alyssa put it so nicely. If you want to leave, I can find spaces for you on the next ship out of Yinjong Harbor."

Briar could see Rosethorn's expression in the early dawn light. She had made up her mind. He knew what she was thinking, even without touching her hand. Despite that, he let his fingers brush her's.

I'll follow you wherever you go.

He felt a burst of young magic on his other side, and then Evvy's voice echoed in his mind.


I want to stay. I want to help.


Were we ever going to do anything else? Rosethorn sounded completely calm, as though she were choosing what to cook for dinner.


"Honored Sandstorm, we are at your service."

The dedicate looked relieved. "Thank you. Shurri Firesword bless you." She stood and walked to the door. "I'll take you to one of our guest houses." She began to lead them down the dusty road. "Do you have any spare clothes?"

"A spare set of Emelanese habits."

Sandstorm shook her head. "I'd like to give you some of our clothes. It's dreadfully hot during the day, and it's cold at night."

Sandry would love this, Briar thought. "What are they?"

"We have loose pants, tunics, and loose-sleeved shirts." Sanstorm plucked at her own clothes. They were made of thin cotton, very loose, and bound tightly at her wrists and ankles by wide ribbons. "There's scarves and cloaks too. Do you want sandals?"

Evvy stared at the the dedicate's shoe. She hadn't noticed before, but it was akin to a sandal, except for the two bits of wood, under heel and toe, that elevated the sandal. She glanced at her teachers. Briar was the only one looking unsurprised.

Sandstorm smiled slightly. "They're really quite easy to get around in, after you find your balance."

Rosethorn gave the shoes a final, questioning look, then nodded. "We'll do that. Might as well try to blend in."

Sandstorm led them to the house. It was on the far side of the temple, near the wall. "House" was also a generous name. It was truly a more of a large, mud-brick igloo, with a hole in the top to serve as a chimney.

"Most of the temple is quite old, and the mud-brick and adobe structures are originals. We're in the process of renovating some parts. The new cellars, for example, are stone, half set in the earth. You'll probably see them if you go to the kitchens." She ducked through the low door, and showed them the inside space. It had several bed rolls on one side, next to a large basket of blankets and pillows. A stone-bordered circle in the middle served as a hearth. Sandstorm tapped another basket with her foot. "There are spare clothes in here. Feel free just to look through and find what works. Most of our people just wear the brown clothes with a colored tunic. If you aren't too tired, come and meet me up on the battlements when you're done here." She smiled, bowed, and slipped away.

Rosethorn flicked the door-curtain across the entry-way. "What colors are you two going to wear?" She sat on the ground and began to riffle through the clothes.

"Green, I suppose. Evvy?"

She frowned. "I'm not near old enough to be a dedicate."

"White, then," Rosethorn muttered. Having found what she wanted, she tossed clothes to the others. "Turn around, get changed. I'd like to see what Sandstorm wants to do."

A few minutes later, they stood blinking in the sun, once again. All three were wearing the loose pants and shirts in various shades of brown. Rosethorn's were neatly tied off in black ribbons. She and Briar both wore long green tunics, and Evvy's was snowy white. The tan cloaks buttoned onto the tunics. Rosethorn held her scarf in her hands.

"Evvy, how are you supposed to wear this?"

The girl ran it through her fingers, finding its length. "I suppose it's meant to be wrapped around your face. Like this." She pulled it across her head, then around her face, then threw the ends over her shoulders. It covered her hair, and most of her face. Only her eyes were visible. "I think it's meant for keeping dirt out of your face. It's what we did in Chammur when the dust storms came."

Rosethorn nodded, then quickly followed suit. Briar sighed. "Rosethorn-"

Evvy giggled. "Briar, didn't you ever see any of the takamers wearing their scarves? They don't wear them like the takameris. You just tie it over your face, so it come just over your nose, and knot it." She snatched his scarf and tied for him. Briar shot a glance at Rosethorn. He couldn't see her face, but the corners of her eyes were crinkled up, like she was laughing.

He grinned at her, then turned towards the battlement. In the daylight, he could see the temple clearly. The walls were made of speckled gray granite, smoothed by hundreds of years of use. Briar trotted up the stairs, pausing at the top for Evvy and Rosethorn. He looked over the walls, examining the view.

The barren landscape stretched for several miles, full of scraggly shrubs and sand. It eventually broke into trees that hid the road from Yanjing.

"Briar."

He turned to look at Rosethorn.

"Come on." She began to walk down the battlement. Hwangwalker and Sandstorm stood on the wall over the main gate. A large map rolled across the crenelations. Hwang was stabbing a point on the map with his finger, and Sandstorm was listening closely.

"The only way they're going to be able to come up here is through Lailan's Pass, where the main road is. They can't come through any other way."

"Only Lailan's Path," Sandstorm laughed grimly. "Only the biggest trade route for hundreds of miles. Welcome," she added, glancing at Rosethorn. She moved back slightly so they could see the map. "I suppose you heard most of that. Our little temple would be a wonderful place to be besieged at, aside from the road. I've suspected something like this for a while, since the Yanjingi ambassador stopped pretending to enjoy our shows of magic. The Emperor never liked magecraft much anyway, so I suppose it was just a matter of time before he decided to stamp us out. At any rate, I've stored up grain and water for-" She glanced at Hwang. "Nearly a year now. A few of our smiths have been making spears, arrows, and pikes and training some of the dedicates and novices to use them."

"We sent scouts out for reconnaissance, and a few of them are coming back in. They're confirming your reports," Hwang said. "I don't know how the Emperor managed to mobilize his army so quickly, but his troops are already moving across the Gygonxe border. We have days, maybe a week or so before they arrive."

"And that is why we need to begin preparations." Sandstorm beckoned two Fire dedicates to her. "Redbrook, I need you to alert the bellringers to sound the bells for war and danger. Cherrydrop, check with Fern about the supply levels, then report back to me. Oh- Redbrook, after you're done, please see if the front gates are shored up properly."

The dedicates nodded at hurried away, breaking into a trot when they reached the ground.

"Honored Sandstorm," Rosethorn began. "What would you have us do? I'd rather not stand around tripping your people up."

"You could join our sentries. We can use more eyes."

Rosethorn nodded, and then a strange expression came over her face. "Is there a job Evvy could do that isn't. . . up on the parapets?"

Evvy's mouth dropped open. "That's not fair! I can do as much as you can! I don't want to be stuck safe somwhere while-"

Rosethorn gripped Evvy's chin and leaned forwards. "I don't want you to be hurt, girl. I like you, I know you're good with your magic, and that's why I want you safe," she whispered fiercely. "If something happens- not that anything will- but, just in case, I want you to be able to get to Winding Circle. You'll have a good life there, and good teachers who can teach you more that Briar and I ever can." She stepped back, eyebrows raised.

Evvy stuck her chin out mulishly. Her eyes watered, and she blinked furiously. No one's going to see me cry. "Fine."

Sandstorm glanced between them, then sighed. "Evvy, would you rather work in the kitchens, the infirmary, or with the smiths?"

"The smiths." I don't want people yelling at me, or telling me to magic stuff to help them. A smithy should be better. 

Briar flashed her a small smile. She glared back. He broke into a grin.

"Have fun, kid."

"Oh, yeah, loads." 

Delphiniums

She stepped into the crisp fall night. It was dark, far past midnight, but she couldn't sleep. Her lover had left months ago, but the pain was still as fresh as a new cut.

Eglantine rose, symbolizing a wound unhealed.

The weather was still warm enough to keep hard frost at bay, but not for long. The days were cool, and the nights cold. The trees had dropped their leaves. The more timid plants had already curled deep into themselves, and let pale browns wither and dry their leaves and buds.

Oak leaves of strength.


Her feet moved of their own accord, carrying her across cool, pebbly dirt and into the large garden behind the house. The last of the summer vegetation brushed her fingers, slowly numbing them. A dainty evergreen slipped along her thumb, and she paused. She twisted a stem of it between her fingers, broke it, and held it tight.

Rosemary for remembrance, my love.

A voyage across the world, to the far East, was the reason for separation. Educational purposes, supposedly. Love of variety, truly.

China asters for fidelity and the love of variety.

A perfect representation.

She carefully trod through the shriveled roses. They shimmered with a dusting of the thinnest frost. During the summer, they had grown rampant along the trellises. She could look out her window and see a vibrant palette of roses. They all looked the same in the moonlight now, seeming as dark as sorrows or bright as silver.

Black roses for farewell, crimson for mourning. White roses for innocence, yellow for friendship and apology.

Her innocent lover never knew the pain departing caused. Didn't need to know. She kept it to herself, since, after all, there would be a reunion.

Fir, meaning time. Almond, promise. Heliotrope, devotion. Primrose, eternal love.


The lover would be back. Returned to her side in less than a year. Full of new sights, smells, experiences. Spices, silks, and the great souks of the Eastern markets.

She turned down the next row of the garden. The herbs by her hand were the sturdiest of all the plants, often lasting long into the winter.

Fennel for strength.

Her lover was the strongest person she'd ever met. In fact, that was part of the reason for her love. Not physically, but spiritually, mentally, morally. Standing up to what was wrong, heart upon sleeve, and colors flying.

Holly for defense, orange lilies for passion, and lotus for eloquence.

She began to hurry past the last of the plants, racing her memories.

Apple blossoms of perseverance. Pink carnations for friendship. Delphiniums, able to transcend space and time. Fidelite pink carnations. Mallow, forget-me-not, lime blossoms. Freesia, marigold, rue.

Periwinkle for memories. Snapdragon for strength. Yarrow for heartache.

She stepped through the door, slamming it behind her. Flowers pelted the wood, herbs scented the air.

Fidelity, love, faithfulness, hope, regret, desire, change.

"We will be together again." The house was silent around her as she climbed the stairs to her room. The bed sat in the corner, its covers strewn wildly. She lay down, pulled the blankets high, and held her pillow tight in her arms. "Together."

Just outside the back door, a sprig of rosemary lay in the dirt. It was slowly turning silver. The frost crept across its thin needles, gleaming in the clear night.

Remember.

Battle for Living Circle: Chapter 12- Dangerous

Alyssa jogged down the dirt path. Real great mages! People who's names rebounded across the globe. They were here. She could barely contain her excitement.

The temple wasn't large, so within a few minutes, she stood before Honored Sandstorm's office. It was an older part of the temple, a squat adobe and stucco creation, with a brightly dyed curtain across the doorway. The temperatures in Gygonxe were always high, so curtains worked better than doors.

She rattled the cowbell near the door.

"Come in."

Alyssa slipped into the coolness. "Honored Sandstorm, there's great mages here!"

Sandstorm smiled. "I'm glad you've figured that out."

Alyssa giggled. Sandstorm was never as regal as the other high-ranking dedicates. "I mean, a pair of them showed up at the gate and Hwang- Dedicate Hwangwalker- let them in and he took them to the bathhouse, because they've been traveling for so long, but he said he'd bring them here when they were done."

Sandstorm raised her eyebrows slightly, but gave no other signs of emotion. She sat still for a moment, then stood abruptly. "Alyssa, can you bring me something?"

"Alright."

Sandstorm drew a book off the shelf behind her, letting it fall open in her hand. She ran her finger down the page. "I need powdered dittany, beeswax, and basil."

Alyssa blinked in surprise, but nodded, then darted out the door to find them.

It wasn't much longer before the cowbell was ringing again. Sandstorm swept the curtain aside, and let her guests in. Hwang stood nervously by the doorway, but the other three mages neatly arranged themselves in the battered array of chairs. In Sandstorm's magical sight, they shone brightly with magic, the elder woman most of all. The boy had barely settled, when Alyssa slid through the doorway again.

"I think this is everything. The only beeswax I could find was in a candle, so there's that, and the basil was dried, but that's okay, right?" She smiled again, then turned to leave. Her gaze fell upon the mages and her mouth dropped open. She bowed low, and began to slowly make her way out.

Sandstorm snorted softly. "Novice Alyssa, I would appreciate if you stayed here and observed. It would be a good addition to your training."

Alyssa grinned brightly, then formally bowed, and retreated to a corner.

Sandstorm nodded slightly, and Hwang began introductions.

"Honored Sandstorm, this is Dedicate Initiate Rosethorn of Winding Circle Temple," he glanced at the boy, who mouthed a word. "Of Emelan. Her student, Briar Moss, and his student Evumeimei Dingzai."

The mages stood and bowed. The girl sat down again, then added, "It's just Evvy." Briar elbowed her ribs. "Pahan."

"Dedicate Rosethorn, Pahan Moss, Pahan Evvy, this is Honored Sandstorm, the head of our temple. And Alyssa Yalina, novice of the Air Temple."

Sandstorm stood again. "Tea? I've a feeling this will take a while."

Rosethorn smiled sardonically. "That would be wonderful."

The tea was already prepared, heated after Aly had left. Nonetheless Sandstorm turned to her table, and carefully hid her hands from the other mages. She held the beeswax against the hot tea kettle until it began to melt. She caught the stream of wax and mixed in the basil and dittany. A small flash of magic, and she had a rustic, but usable truthsayer's balm. A smudge of it on each eye, and she would be able to see if anyone was lying. She gathered the tea together on a tray and carried to the desk, where everyone could reach.

"Help yourself." Sandstorm rubbed her eyes, as if she was tired, and smeared her balm across her eyelids. "You said you were here from Emelan? That's rather far isn't it?"

The older mage, Rosethorn, answered. "It's across the Endless Ocean, on the coast of the Pebbled Sea. Briar and I came to Chammur as part of our studies. Evvy joined us there, and we continued on our way to Yanjing."

Sandstorm frowned. Yanjing had been troublesome of late. The new emperor did not take kindly to mages who would not give fealty to him. Mages like Sandstorm and those of her temple. "How did you come to Gyongxe?"

Rosethorn glanced around the room. She leaned across Sandstorm's desk."Are your attendants here trustworthy? Would you trust them with Imperial secrets?" she whispered softly.

"I would trust them with my life," Sandstorm replied, equally quiet. "What are you insinuating?"

Rosethorn straightened, then beckoned the others to come closer. "We were at the Imperial Palace of Yanjing. The emperor invited us to an audience before his court."

"Dangerous," Alyssa whispered.

Briar snorted, but Rosethorn ignored them and continued. "We arrived early. He was in a meeting with his advisors. They were speaking of mages, and how we are a danger to Imperial power unless we are bound to him. They came to conclude that your temple is the biggest threat for hundreds of miles. I think they've been planning for sometime, but right then they voted to wage war on the Living Circle."

Plot lines...

General Plot:

• Good vs. Evil.
• In a WoW-type setting
• Elves, Humans, zombies
• NEED zombies for Kristina/Luke song thing
• maybe no elves? elves were driven out long ago...
• Overlords-fallen elves
• Protector-new elf
• beasties
• overlords' beasties would be human foot soldiers led by cyborg leaders (hahaha! i wrote in cyborgs)
• Overlords who use 'beasts' to fight each other and win territory
• there should only be two overlords. neither is good.
• ultimate win is to have good "overlord" who is really just a defender/protector not overlord
• steampunk? -it might be hard to have steampunk and nature co-exist. maybe have a light steampunk wash to it, rather than entirely.
• ie: have steampunk clothing and some mechanism, but not enough to dilute the full power of teldrassil
• characters include
• silk
• tuesday
• eona
• aurie
• lloyd
• max
• Deities
• Superstitions
• One magpie seen by two brings good luck to both of you.
• Disease
• Suez Pox-?
• River Sickness- affects the people who work around the river, causes skin irritation, eye irritation, headaches, ect. from the goop in the water

---

Characters: Claribel Hawkins

I have a pic coming...

Name: Claribel Hawkins
Personality: short-tempered, not one to cut corners
Prominent Features: short, white-blonde hair
Possible Placement: Holly Silver's guard, street gang leader in Caerwyn

Clary Goodwin/Clary Hawkins

Characters: Silk

 

Name: Silk

Personality: tough, blunt, witty

Prominent Feature: missing one hand

Possible Placement: Captain/guard

Mastiff Fanfiction- After all this time: You've Got It All Wrong

After All This Time- Chapter One: You've Got It All Wrong

And I said, "No. Oh, you've got it all wrong." -Bluebird, Christina Perri

Clara Goodwin sat behind her desk. Jane Street was quiet, and she stared unseeingly at the stony wall across from her.

"Why?" The question seemed to whisper through the kennel. "Why, Mattes?" Her voice rose and her chin trembled. "You aren't going to make me cry. You sarden, cracknobbed looby! Scutty, mumping barbarian!" Her vision went blurry, and tears spilled over. She furiously dashed them away.

Anger overcame her and she slammed the cork into her ink jar, spattering her reports. Not bothering to knock, she ripped open the Watch Commander's door.

"Goodwin-"

"Sir Acton, may I be excused to go patrol?" She pretended as though her face was as cool as slate, not blotchy and red. She didn't cry prettily. It wasn't a skill she needed.

The man stared at her a moment more, then nodded. "Can you take someone with-"

"They're all out on patrol, sir. And I don't want to bother Cooper."

"Yes," he paused. "Find someone to patrol with you. Someone decent. Not some cracknob. Jewel can cover for you." His eyes softened, and he added, "Take as long as you need, Goodwin."

"Thank you, sir." She saluted, shut the door, and walked calmly to her gear locker. A gorget, arm guards, cuirass, baton, several knives, helm. Clary shut the locker with icy control, then walked slowly out of the kennel, before making a mad dash down the street.

It was a hot night, and sweat quickly soaked her. It's for the best. No one can tell tears from sweat. She turned off Jane Street, down Honor Street. The road was as quiet as a grave. Goodwin shuddered at the thought, then skidded to a stop, nearly missing the house she wanted.

It was dark, the cheerful yellow paint shining silver in the moonlight. The tiny roses were closed up and the whole building looked rather forlorn.

Goodwin stepped up to the door and rapped on it. There was no answer after a second knock, so Goodwin circled to the side of the house. A window swung open on the second story. After a quick glance around, Goodwin drew two long daggers and slid them into the wood, between the clapboards where no one would notice holes. She struggled up the wall, and eventually reached the window. She swung into the room, sheathing her daggers.

A cool blade slid across the top of her neck, just above the gorget. Goodwin froze.

"What are you doing in my house?" a raspy mot's voice asked. It sounded like she had been crying. "I won't have thieves wandering about."

"It's Clary Goodwin, Sabine. I couldn't get in the front door."

Sabine of Macayhill glanced at Goodwin's face in recognition. "There's a reason people lock their doors, Clary. It's to keep other people out."

Goodwin tried to laugh, and failed, hiccuping slightly. "There's a reason I learned to break into houses." She followed the lady to a set of chairs next to the cold hearth. "I'm out on patrol tonight, and I wanted to know if you'd join me."

Sabine hardly blinked. "Certainly. I need something to do." She stood, and vanished into another room, presumably to gather her gear.

Goodwin picked at the thread hemming her uniform. It was sewn tightly, so she picked at invisible bits of dirt on her tunic. It was soaked through with sweat, and reeked terribly. When was the last time she'd washed it?

Sabine came out a moment later. Goodwin was relieved to see she had donned minimal armor and covered it with a black tunic and breeches. The lady pulled a battered helm out of a trunk near the window and slid it on to match Goodwin.

"How shall I arm myself?"

Goodwin reached along her belt, behind her water-skin, before the dagger, and pulled out a spare baton. "Use this and a few daggers."

Sabine caught the baton easily and slipped it into her belt. "Let's go out the front door this time, shall we?" Sabine led the way down to the front door, then carefully relocked it with her key. "Where are we going?"

Goodwin thought about it. There were usually tavern brawls all along Mulberry Way. Illegal slave trading at the Market of Sorrows. Theft on Festive Way. A mixture of everything at the Nightmarket, and occasionally a riot. "Nightmarket." She took of at a quick trot, not looking to see if the lady knight followed.

The dark pressed around her, and she took a shuddering breath. Can't act like a gixie lost in the dark. People don't respect weak Dogs. 

She turned on to Holderman Street, which led to the Nightmarket, when there was a loud crash, and a motley set of coves tumbled onto the road. The door to the pub slammed open again as a mot ran out. Goodwin caught a glimpse inside and grinned in anticipation.

"A proper tussle, at last."

She and Sabine burst into the room, batons swinging. A cove lunged at Goodwin. She slammed her sap into his elbow and he squealed as she moved on. She moved deeper into the fight, lost sight of Sabine, and let the exercise wipe her mind clear of everything.

Something slammed into the back of her cuirass, and she spun around, leg out to trip someone. It was a tattooed mot, missing a tooth. She fell to the ground, but managed to seize Goodwin's tunic. Goodwin turned as she fell, landing square on the mot's nose. The woman let go, and Goodwin leaped up. There were only two coves left in the room, so she ran at the one with the long dagger. He turned, and threw the knife at her. She turned to the side, but a streak of fiery pain darted across the bridge of her nose. She jumped on the cove, and they fell to the ground again. She battered at him with her fists, her baton long gone. He wasn't as well with his fists as the knives, but he managed to hit her hard on her cheekbone. She fell backwards, dazed. He reached for her again, then dropped to the ground.

Goodwin looked up. Sabine stood over the man, baton in hand.

"Your nap-tap is rather handy. 'Tis a pity you can't do it with a sword." She handed Goodwin her baton. "You dropped it when you went after that mot."

Goodwin nodded slowly, checking for loose teeth. "Let's get this lot of sarden loobies to the cart, then we can head out. The barmen don't usually appreciate our business on occasions like this." Sure enough, a rather annoyed looking man was stepping out of the kitchen. Goodwin shot him a glare, then began to tie up the brawlers.

It wasn't much longer before they were walking along the street again. Sabine glanced at the blood across Goodwin's face. "Are you sure you're all right to be doing this?"

"It's only a scratch. I'm fine. That's nearly the lightest I've gotten off in a tavern brawl." She snorted, then added, "The worst time, I broke my arm and two of my fingers. It was just after I got my silver Dog badge. First night out with it, and I had to go to a healer. Gods, the embarrassment. I couldn't show my face at the kennel for a week without getting laughed at."

Sabine laughed, a real laugh this time. "A month after I was knighted, I was going to joust at the King's tournament. Show all the men how a woman can fight, and I fell off my horse before I even got to the field. Talk about feeling like a looby."

Goodwin smiled crookedly. "I've another story to tell you. Mayhaps you can tell one tomorrow, that is, if you'd like to keep doing this for a bit."

Sabine looked surprised. "I'd love it. Thank you, Clary. I think," she paused. "I think he'd approve, wherever he is."

Already the Best, Last Night part 11

Rosethorn never went to bed that night; she saw no real point. Instead she had spent the dark hours before midnight coaxing oils from the lothlóre flowers that she had found growing behind her well. Shortly before midnight, she changed into her clean habit and left for the Hub.

When she arrived, she eased the door open and slipped in. Glimmering shadows from the banked coals of the kitchen fire cast the room in a demonic glow. Rosethorn shook off a feeling of unease and padded across the tiles. There was a whisper of fabric behind her, and then a rather large dedicate stood at her side. Rosethorn gasped and thumped into the side of the oven.

Dedicate Gorse caught her arm and pulled her back. "My dear duck, why didn't you go through the Heartfire doors?" he rumbled.

"I don't know, I just. . . didn't feel like it, I suppose."

Gorse smiled knowingly. "Eventually, everything that has happened will come together in a great pattern. You'll see the sense of it someday, just not today." He pushed her towards the door to the inside of the Hub. "If you come back after your rounds, I'll have something for you."

Rosethorn smiled tiredly and slipped into the Heartfire room. Several other dedicates were already there, so Rosethorn quietly lit her candle and knelt on the dirt floor near the fire. She took a deep breath for seven counts, held it, breathed out, and began her meditation. Her magic flared around her in a bright starburst, then swirled into her core.

Across the room, Crane watched her carefully. The whole thing was quite idiotic. Arguing about people in the Mire. Of course she was right, I see it now. She's always right. Too proud to accept any apology, though. She can't forgive me even if she wanted to. Sadness pinched his face. She's a beautiful creature, but she can't see herself. Always seeking to be better, stronger, quicker, more generous, more clever. She can't see that she's already the best.

Last Night, Chapter 10, Green Man's Blessing

 A/N- Perhaps no one has noticed, but Rosethorn has appeared in 7 Circle books, which is more books than any other chareacter, including the four. . . 4 the win! (haha, get the pun?)

Maybe it was a stupid thing to do, but Rosethorn was pleased with the effect. Green beans clambered up the side of the cottage and the front lawn was velvety green grass. The flower bed no longer held weeds, but vibrant flowers and herbs. Ivy had carefully grown along the white fence and covered the painted tigerlily.

Rosethorn shaded her eyes against the rising sun and looked towards the back yard. It had taken all night to grow the front side of the cottage grounds and she hadn't started the back. She sighed happily and stumbled tiredly into the cottage, where a scarred and ancient wooden table dominated the kitchen-dining area. Her clothes and possessions were strew messily across the the table and she rummaged through them, searching for a small glass bottle.

A moment later, it caught her eye, winking in the light. She uncorked it, poured a small amount of orange powder into a chipped mug from a cabinet and walked outside to find the backyard well. It was in the far corner, already hung with a chain and bucket. Rosethorn drew some water, dribbled it into her cup and stirred with her finger while walking back to the cottage.

Another flash of light gleamed nearby, and Rosethorn turned to it automatically. She squinted; something hung, sparkling, from a tree branch. Her mind went blank with fury as she gripped the object in her hand. It was the blue Mila flower necklace. She strode into the cottage, slammed her cup into the table and stalked into the small alter room near the front door.

It was dusty and dark, but Rosethorn quickly lit the tapers and votive candles that she knew would be there. Light flickered against worn, golden god-figures. A small, blue-green dish lay on the side. Rosethorn coiled the necklace into it.

"Green Man and Mila please accept my offering," she mumbled. "In remembrance of good friends and warm nights and everything that made us one." She knelt a moment longer, twining her fingers through her long reddish hair, like Crane used to do. Rosethorn blinked at the sudden memory, then stood and ran back to the kitchen. Her shears lay on the table where she had left them. She twisted her hair into a plait, grabbed the shears and marched back to her alter. "This is to show that I'm done with my past!" She held her braid in one hand and cut it off. Her remaining hair fluttered about her cheekbones, and she shouted "I'm ready to start over! I don't need men in my life! I can live my own way!" She threw the shears down, stomped out of Discipline and walked the familiar road to the Water Temple.

It was only a few minutes before she was at the temple's delicate glass and iron doors. She threw one door open and leaned in, just far enough to reach the door-keeper's desk. There sat a young, curly-haired woman drawing absently on a scrap of paper. Rosethorn dropped her braid on the table, snarled "Do something useful for someone with it!" and slammed the door shut, rattling the glass in its panes.

Her foul mood lasted her the trip back to Discipline. She threw the front door open, and growled in frustration when she saw Niklaren Goldeye sitting at her table.

"Master Goldeye."

"Dedicate Rosethorn. I felt magical disruptions last night and I felt the need to come and stare. You've done an incredible job. I know few others who could accomplish all you've done in one night." Niko maintained what he hoped was a straight face. He knew no one, besides himself, who could raise a full grown garden overnight.

She blushed, and tried to look annoyed at the comment. She shook her hair away from her face, and Niko blinked surprisedly.

"You've cut your hair I see."

"And you haven't."

Ever the cynic. "True." He gestured to her hair. "It suits you."

It was the dedicate's turn to be surprised. "Thank you. . . I suppose." She fingered the ragged edges, then scooped up her shears and walked to the window.

It took Niko a moment to figure out what she was doing. "My dear, are you trying to cut your hair with shears and a window?"

"So?"

"Let me help you." He pressed her into a chair, snatched the shears away, and drew a thin, sharp knife from his belt. The mage carefully evened the edges of her hair.

"Do you do this much?" Rosethorn asked, working to sound un-sarcastic.

"Occasionally. Do you?"

Rosethorn twisted around to see if he was smiling, but his face was blank. "Yes. I so enjoy cutting my hair before a window."

He brushed the red trimmings from her shoulders. "Finished. You didn't do to badly on your own."

"Mm. What are you here for, really? You see magic every day. It shouldn't be a surprise, especially around here."

"Honored Moonstream was wondering if you'd be willing to accommodate a guest here."

Rosethorn frowned. "I don't see why not. This cottage is huge. I don't understand why Froststar picked this one and not the other."

Niko raised his eyebrows cryptically. "She has her reasons." He stared around the kitchen. "Have you chosen a room yet? You might want to do so, before your resident arrives."

Rosethorn sighed. "That one." She pointed to a smooth-planed door.

"Alright." Niko gathered Rosethorn's possessions in his arms and walked to the door. Rosethorn scrambled after him, barely managing to catch the door for him. He set his load on the cot against the wall while Rosethorn looked around.

It was a small room, painted cream with dark wood paneling around the bottom of the walls. Shelves and a cabinet covered one wall and the bed and a small desk took up the second. There was a window with a flower-box and battered stool.

The two mages worked quietly to organize Rosethorn's clothes and set them in the cabinet. She set the Anderran box on a shelf nearly full of dusty herbalism books.

Niko set a pair of unused sandals on the shelf, then turned to Rosethorn. "You're sure you'll be alright? This is, well it isn't your typical idea of what a dedicate does, I suppose."

Rosethorn sighed. "I was in complete control of my actions. This is the life I've chosen for myself." She drew a thread of magic out of her core and coiled it in her palm. It danced around her fingertips, casting a flicking greenish glow across her face. The trick had taken time to master, and the concentration needed helped her to mask her emotions. "I won't really have to see him again, at least not in anything but passing."

Niko shrugged expressionlessly. "He isn't a bad man. Just a bit impatient and quick-thinking." And if you haven't noticed, you're much the same. Quick temper, fast mind, and a touch too sensitive. He froze as a scrap of color drifted past his face in the air the Rosethorn had just blown out. He tuned the dedicate out and concentrated on the color, hoping it might form a vision.

The colors twisted, then jumped into a recognizable form. It was Rosethorn and a golden-skinned boy leaning over the Temple battlements. Magic gushed from them like a river. Rosethorn laying limp on the cot of the very room she was standing in. Then the same boy, in a garden that shone like a green beacon. Rosethorn again, in a small stone room, snarling at someone Niko couldn't see. Rosethorn rushing into the arms of a cat-like woman with glossy, black curls. Then the vision snapped into a thousand fragments of color and Niko stumbled backwards.

Rosethorn caught him and eased him upright again. "Are you alright?" She frowned.

Niko paused uncertain of what to say. Uncertain of how Rosethorn would react. "I saw a vision. . . in the wind."

She raised her eyebrows. "You can scry. Don't be afraid to say it. I tried a few times, and didn't really find it particularly useful."

Niko coughed. "Pardon?"

"Stupid little bits of futures and present, past and possible futures and futures that will never come. I can't see myself using it. I like everything here and now where I can see it before my nose without having it shatter into pieces." She glanced away and sniffed. "Blasted summer colds."

Niko carefully pretended not to notice her watering eyes. "If you'll sit with me, I'll tell you about the research team for Froststar."

Rosethorn nodded, clearly curious.

"She's had this problem for a while now. A year, maybe. Every time she uses her magic, it doesn't replenish like it should. In fact, it doesn't come back at all. We just keep lending her our magic. That's why she's stopped using the flashy magic she used to do at the solstices and equinoxes. She can't drain herself, or she'll die from lack of power."

Rosethorn frowned. "What have you done about it?"

"Herbal teas, just about ever cure for disease that we know of," Niko counted things off on his fingers. "We tried an infusion of aconite, then murtlap, dittany."

"Have you tried hellebore?"

It was Niko's turn to frown. "That's to prevent people from spelling you."

"It seems as though you've tried everything natural."

Niko ran his fingers along his mustache and stared into space for a long moment. "I suppose it's worth a try, but you'll have to get the rest of the team to agree."

Rosethorn snorted. "I couldn't do that even if I had the Green Man's blessing."

Niko sighed. "Don't give up on yourself. It's a decent idea. Our first meeting is tonight, after the midnight services. Come to Froststar's office after you're done."

Last Night, Chapter Nine

 A/N- Sorry it took so long to update. I was out of town and so I wrote down the chapters in a notebook. There should be a Battle chapter up soon too. :) What was really funny though, was I saw a sign when I was driving and it said "Silverwing Dr." What's sad is it actually took a minute to remember why the name was familiar.

Rosethorn strode out of the office, beyond emotions and tears. Her feet carried her along the familiar path to the Earth dormitories, as someone approached behind her.

"Master Goldeye."

"Niko."

"Master Goldeye."

"I thought to accompany you to your cottage. Help you carry your possesions."

"I don't have much, just a box and some clothes."

"Nonetheless." He paused, adding, "do you even know where your cottage is?"

"No."

"Then I'll show you. Regardless, of whether or not you can find it by yourself."

Rosethorn pursed her lips. Scryers couldn't read minds, could they? She turned off the main road and pushed through the double doors of her dormitory. Goldeye grunted softly as the door thumped into him.

She ducked into her room, shared with five other women, and threw open her wardrobe doors. Sandals; a spare green habit, now her only green habit; underclothes; a hat; and a thin scarf. She gathered it all under one arm, snatched up her box from Anderran, then turned on her heel. She was almost out the door when a strong hand grabbed her skirt and spun her around.

Silverwing, dirt smudged across her face glared at Rosethorn with all of her First Dedicate power. "Just where do you think you're going?"

"I'm leaving."

"Rosethorn, just because you made a mistake, doesn't mean you have to leave. I've-"

"I'm leaving Silverwing. Froststar's orders."

Silverwing's face hardened. "Just because you made a fool mistake, don't mean Froststar can kick you out!" She slipped into the cant of her childhood and began to march past Rosethorn, who dropped her clothes and held Silverwing back.

"Silverwing, I'm not-"

"I don't care about being nice. That bleating Temple slushbrain-"

Suddenly, Rosethorn was glad for the friend she had in Silverwing.

A large hand clapped Rosethorn's shoulder. "Dedicate Silverwing, Honored Froststar isn't making Rosethorn leave the temple. She's just moving to a cottage across the way."

Silverwing frowned, obviously annoyed. "As you say, Master Goldeye," she muttered, sliding effortlessly into formal Imperial. She saw Rosethorn's surprise. "Niklaren has visited here before, several times." She glanced at Rosethorn's small heap of possessions. "Wait a moment." She disappeared into the storeroom, and Rosethorn could hear her rummaging through boxes of whatever was stored. A few minutes later, Silverwing came back with a teal metal wagon loaded with two large boxes. "These are just a few things to get you started. This isn't goodbye. I'm still expecting to see you at midnight services on Sunsday." She hugged Rosethorn tightly, then shoved her out the door. "Don't do anything stupider than usual." With that, she slammed the door shut.

Rosethorn smiled crookedly. "She doesn't like us to know she's capable of emotions."

Goldeye led her down the path. "Have you known her for a while?"

"Ten or twelve years now. She taught me as a novice, and was promoted to First Dedicate shortly after I took my vows. She just doesn't like to advertise it, so she wears plain habits." Unlike some people.

They walked in silence along the road, passing few others. The midday sun beat down from above and Rosethorn could feel sweat dewing on her face. She snuck a glance at the mage, but he appeared as cool and composed as ever. Finally, the man held up a hand.

"We're here."

Here was a clean white cottage, surrounded by lawn and garden. The scent of fresh thatch wafted over the air. Someone had apparently maintained the cottage. Brightly colored shutters hid the windows, no doubt made of expensive glass. Rosethorn glanced at the white fence surrounding the cottage grounds and sighed in frustration. A brilliant orange mark gleamed through the newer white paint. Rosethorn traced the petals of the tigerlily.

Will I never be free of him? I thought getting a home of my own would keep him away, but now. . . another tie keeping us together. Maybe I can get more paint. . . 

"Dedicate?"

"What?" Rosethorn shook herself back to the present.

"Do you need any further assistance or-"

"I can manage fine on my own, thank you." She stepped through the gate with her wagon and snapped it shut. "Good day."

Goldeye looked faintly surprised for a moment, then his face was as smooth as stone. "Good day. I hope to see you again soon." He turned neatly and walked back down the path.

Rosethorn watched him go, then stomped to Discipline's front door.

 

Discipline

 A/N- Thanks again to the Nerd for reviewing!

Much to her surprise, Rosethorn was awakened at dawn by bird calls. There weren't any dedicates clustered around her demanding to know what happened the night before.

She sat up and wiped as much of the mud off as she could, which wasn't much. She looked around, and not seeing anyone, stood and walked to the garden gate. Her necklace caught on a tree twig and she stared at the blue metal Mila flower.
It winked in the light, teasing her. Rosethorn felt hot fury rising her her throat again, and she ripped the necklace off and let it hang from the twig.

Let someone who wants it have it.

She stalked away with as much grace as she could muster and headed towards Froststar's office. Breaking the rules wouldn't keep her from owning up.


*****

The door was unlocked, but no one was in. Rosethorn slipped inside and sat in one of the chairs, picking the most uncomfortable one. There was no reason for her to fall asleep and be unprepared for someone walking in.

She didn't have to wait long. The door swung open again and Crane walked in. He didn't see Rosethorn in her corner, but strode to a chair near the front of the office and took a seat. He smoothed his robes, flattened the creases in his sleeves, looked up, and nearly fell off his chair when he saw Rosethorn.

"Where were you? I was worried sick- I thought... I thought a lot of things that might have happened!"

She glared at him. "I'm not stupid."

"I wasn't-"

"Yes, you were. And I'm not." She kicked her grimy feet up across the arm of another chair and closed her eyes, arms folded across her chest.

He snorted in exasperation and picked at his sleeve dismally. "It's this whole initiate thing, isn't it?"

Rosethorn gritted her teeth. Partially that, but not completely. There was something else, like your disability to care for the people in the Mire. She didn't say it out loud. It was better for him to suffer her silence.

It seemed like long hours before the door creaked open again. Rosethorn's eyes flew open and she watched Froststar, Moonstream, and middle-aged man with a dark ponytail and mustache walk in laughing. They saw her and Crane and sobered quickly.

Froststar sighed deeply. "Follow us, please." She opened the door to her inner office and everyone filed in. Froststar sat behind the desk, Moonstream and Crane in chairs before the desk, and Rosethorn leaned against the wall. The dark-haired man closed the door and propped himself against it, before glancing at Rosethorn.

Rosethorn glared at him, then fastened her gaze on Froststar. The woman really did look sick, pale and breathless. She hadn't lost a drop of composure, which Rosethorn admired.

The room was silent a moment more, then Froststar banged her fist on the desk. "I know what happened. Now I want to know why."

"It was my fault, truly-" Crane burst out.

Rosethorn snorted. "Stop taking credit for what you didn't do. It's my fault."

"I egged you on-"

"I started it-"

"No-"

"Yes-"

"Stop." The dark-haired man stepped between them and held up his hands. "The easiest way to settle this is just for you two to speak the truth. However, that method doesn't seem to be working. If Honored Froststar agrees-"

Froststar smiled mirthlessly. "Whatever you'd like to do, you may."

"-I'll perform a truth spell and we can get to the bottom of this."

"A truth spell?"

"Sir, can you do that on your own?"

"The kind using a crystal, or are you a mage?"

The man smiled a Rosethorn. "I apologize for not introducing myself. Niklaren Goldeye, truthsayer."

Crane nearly fell out of his seat.

Rosethorn coughed loudly into her elbow. "I'm at your mercy then, Master Goldeye. Please perform your spells so I can get started on my punishment."

Goldeye looked at her curiously. "Punishment, Dedicate?"

"You don't slap an Initiate and use magic on him without having to pay some price."

"Oh?"

"I was a bit tired to begin with, Dedicate Initiate Crane said something that irritated me, we disagreed, and I slapped him before using my magic against him."

"Did you injure him at all?"

"Only his pride, sir."

Goldeye smiled. "Thank you Dedicate." He turned to Froststar. "I believe you've heard the truth."

Crane frowned. "You didn't use magic."

Goldeye nodded. "I was taught to detect lies using non-magical methods and I believe I have heard the truth. That is, unless you have something to add, Dedicate Initiate?"

Rosethorn watched as Crane sought to find a small detail that would soften Rosethorn's actions. Finally, he shook his head. "No, thank you."

Froststar nodded. "Thank you, Dedicate Crane. Now, if you'd excuse us, you may return to your duties." After Crane had left the room and the door had clicked closed again, she turned to Rosethorn. "What possessed you to do something so idiotic?"

 "All right, time to clean up. There's nothing more to be done tonight." Crane began to circulate through the tables, nodding approval or sighing deeply.

Rosethorn sat stiffly, hands frozen on her bottles. "Whatever do you mean, 'nothing more to be done'? There's always something we can do."

Crane came to stand by her shoulder. "We can't save everyone, my dear. We'll save more if we're rested and ready to use magic."

 "People are dying. Maybe if we worked through the night we could have save them. But we won't. Because we never do!" she screamed loudly.

"It was my own fault. I over-reacted. He told us to clean up, and I told him no." Rosethorn looked at her grimy feet. She was tired and she knew she had been defeated. Froststar would probably send her packing back to Anderran in the morning.

"Anything else?"

"No, not really."

"Rosethorn." She blinked; Goldeye was suddenly beside her, finger lifting her chin up. "There's something else."

"I told him-" I'm not stupid. I know you and the other initiates work overtime to try and figure out what's wrong with Froststar. "I said I knew why he was working overtime."

Moonstream sucked in her breath, but Froststar showed no surprise. "It was only a matter of time, I suppose. How did you guess?"

Rosethorn looked away again. "It was just a lucky guess, really."

Froststar nodded sadly. "Lucky. Well, dear, you were right earlier in saying you can't just slap someone for free. To begin with, you're removed from the Dragon Pox research team."


Can't say I'm too upset about that.

"You're also removed from the Earth dormitories."


That caught Rosethorn's attention. "What-"

"You'll live in a cottage in the temple. Until someone like-minded comes along, you'll be its sole care-taker. If you ever gain a student, he or she will live in the cottage with you. Moonstream, what houses are open now?"

The woman flipped open a file on the desk. "There are two; thirty-one and fifty-six. Thirty one is on the north side of the temple, six bedrooms, one indoor workroom, alter, front and back gardens. Fifty-six is near the forges, two bedrooms, two workrooms and a loft."

Froststar stared into the distance for a moment, then- "Thirty one." She turned her attention to Rosethorn. "Now, Master Goldeye will accompany you to your dormitory to retrieve your belongings, then he'll show you to cottage thirty-one. I believe you know the one?" she added.

"Of course."

Rosethorn stood, bowed slightly to the two other dedicates and started to open the door.

"Ah, Rosethorn, one last thing. Since you're the sole caretaker of the cottage, you get to choose its name. Each time a cottage gets a new caretaker, the caretaker may rename it." Froststar paused. "The last caretaker called it....Courage."

Rosethorn twisted the door handle open, taking the moment to think. "Discipline."

Moonstream sighed sadly. "Dear, we aren't trying to discipline you-"

"I know."


A/N- What did you think? I have my own idea about what Rosie means when she says she knows she's not being disciplined, but I'm curious to know what you think. Please review!

Intricate

A/N- I'm going to tell this one (start it anyways) more from the Living Circle dedicate's pov. Hope you enjoy! Oh, btw, I have no idea about his name, it just kinda popped into my head one day. Thanks to CrazyDyslexicNerd for reviewing!

First Dedicate Hwangwalker of the Living Circle Water Temple listened in mild annoyance and surprise when someone banged on the door. It was almost the end of his sentry shift, and now he'd have to go out and talk to people who wanted in, probably for a rather idiotic reason. He pulled a summer cloak over his uniform: loose blue breeches and a matching tunic, all trimmed in black. Much more sensible then stuffy robes and skirts like other temples. He climbed the ladder on the back of the door to the eye slot viewing platform and pulled the slot cover back with a crisp crack."Please stare your names and what you're doing here at the crack of dawn." Not the most polite inquiry, but certainly not as rude as some.

He peered at the people curiously. A girl and an older boy, both who looked local except for the odd choice of clothes. Chammuran perhaps, with that headscarf, her thought. An older woman stood between them. She was the most curious. To young to be their mother, but too old to be a sister. An aunt? She didn't look related though. Straight brown eyes and paler skin and dark hair with a coppery glimmer. Maybe just a friend.

They glanced at each other, and the woman stepped forwards. "Are you a dedicate?" she called in accented Chammuran.

"Yes. Dedicate Hwangwalker." First Dedicate had seemed too formal since the day Hwang had received the title.

The woman nodded. "Dedicate Rosethorn of Winding Circle Temple, Emelan, across the Pebbled Sea. These are my companions, Briar and Evumeimei."

Hwang frowned. Emelan? That's.... I don't even know how far away. What would a dedicate of Emelan be doing here? Her name does sound familiar though... "I'm going to need proof of that, please." He quickly drew a spell in the air before himself to shield the glow of any magic.

The woman pulled out a silver disk on a cord from around her neck and touched it. It flashed white, illuminating the walls in stark relief.

It's definately an original medallion. Hwang paused and made a quick decision. "If you'll give me a moment, I'll be right down to open the sally port for you." He slammed the eye-slot shut and clambered down the ladder. The sally port was a small door built into the right side of the main gate. Hwang took a large silver key from his belt and unbolted the door. Another, smaller key unlocked the door. He swung it open a crack and held out his hand to the travellers. "If you don't mind ma'am, I'd appreciate another look at your medallion."

The woman glanced at the boy curiously, but handed her necklace over withhout comment. It glowed softly in Hwang's hand, and he examined it carefully. On one side, it was imprinted with a large spiral. "Rosethorn", "Snowpaw", and "Winding Circle" bordered the spiral. The student's name, teacher, and temple, Hwang remembered. He flipped it over. A large tree ringed by birds and roses dominated the face of the disk. Some vague memory clicked into place in Hwang's head and he gasped. Dedicate Initiate Rosethorn, the herbalist! All the strange stories of her.... ablities to grow anything, incredible herbs, and didn't she help create the human essences? There were endless stories about her, tales of earthquakes, pirates, fire, and plague. And not just about her, but about- "Can I see your medallion, too, sir?"

The boy handed his over as silently as his teacher had. Without any surprise, Hwang found another spiral on the back, inscribed with "Briar Moss", "Rosethorn", and "Winding Circle." On the front, there was another large tree, this one bordered with ribbons, lightning, and flames. Hwang took a deep breath and handed the medallions back. I've just met people of legend! "If you'd follow me please. I believe Dedicate Sandstorm would like to meet you. She's our head."

The three mages slipped through the door and Hwang relocked and bolted the sally port behind them. They were coated in dust and grime and all three looked exhausted. Hwang sighed. It wouldn't really matter if Sandstorm met them an hour later, would it? No, not much. Besides, she'd probably appreciate another bit of sleep. And this lot looks like they'd like a bath. "Actually, I think we can visit the bathhouse first." He began to lead them across the temple, trying not to fall over his feet in his amazement at meeting some of the most powerful mages to have lived.

Rosethorn looked around amazement. The temple was slightly smaller than Winding Circle, and built differently. A large central building seemed to contain housing. A square structure in a corner was the kitchen and dining hall, judging by the steam and smells wafting around it. Large cloisters and groves were scattered across the grounds, mingling with offices, workrooms, and tiny cottages.

Evvy tugged Rosethorn's sleeve. "What's that? It's newer than everything else, by loads." She was pointing at crisp-looking, cubical stone buildings that were set half underground.

Hwang heard her and explained quickly. "Those are our new storage cellars. Supposedly, being partially belowground will help everything stay cooler." He led them to yet another small granite building. "This is the bathhouse." He ducked inside and the others followed him down a few steps to a steamy pool. "It's geothermal, so it's always warm in here. Best place to be in the winter," he added nervously. "Soap is on the shelf there and towels are in the cupboard. We don't have a night attendant, so if you need anything...."

Rosethorn smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Dedicate-"

"Hwangwalker! Just Hwang, though, please." He nodded."Um, if you need anything else, well, I think everything you'd need is in here. I'll find you some clean clothes, if you don't mind. I'll be back in a bit." With that he rushed out the door.

Rosethorn raised her eyebrows at Briar. He grinned and shrugged, stripping down to his undergarments, and sliding into the hot water.

"Need any help, girl?" Rosethorn asked Evvy.

"No thanks."

Evvy pulled her headscarf off, dropped it on the floor and let her breeches and tunic puddle next to it. She checked to make sure nothing could slide off underwater, then leaped in.

Rosethorn sighed and picked at the intricate folds and knots holding her dress together. "Evvy! How do I get this blasted thing off?"

The girl giggled, floating in the water. "The tie, by your right hip, get that undone and it should come apart."

Rosethorn grumbled and pulled at the knot, eventually letting the dress spill across the floor. She kicked off her shoes and walked over to the cupboards Hwang had pointed out. Soap, brushes, and shampoo. "Boy! Catch!" She tossed two bars of soap and a pair of brushes at the two in the water, before sliding in herself.

"I can finally get all this dye off," she muttered.

*****

Hwang had gathered the clothes and was sitting on a bench outside the bathhouse. He could hear the mages talking among themselves, and he didn't want to interrupt. He leaned back, trying to relax. A moment later, his bench shivered as someone else sat down. Hwang didn't have to look to know who. The scent of grapefruit told him what he needed to know.

"Alyssa."

"Hey. What's up? Nya was wondering when you let those people in and didn't come back," his sister said. She was a few years younger, training to be an Air dedicate.

"Aly," he sat up and looked at her. "Can you not tell anyone this until Sandstorm hears of it?"

She frowned, completely serious now. "Yes."

"Aly, those mages are..." he leaned closer and lowered his voice. "It's Dedicate Initiate Rosethorn from Emelan and her student-"

"Briar Moss."

"And his student, a girl from Chammur, I think. I don't know her name."

"Hwang, do you want me to tell Sandstorm, so you don't have to wait when you take them to her office?"

"That would be nice, thanks."

Alyssa grinned. "You'll owe me. A slice of your incredible cherry pie, perhaps?"

Hwang smiled back, glad that someone else knew now. "A whole pie, if you want."

His sister's teeth flashed white in the dawn. "A whole pie. It's a deal!" She gave him a quick hug, turned, and began jogging towards the head dedicate's office.

Hwang stood before the door to the bathhouse, took a deep breath, and entered, determined to keep his calm.

Battle for Living Circle- Dawn

 A/N- I can't actually remember if Evvy can see magic, I don't think so, but it makes the story funner and fanfics are all about being partly non-canon. If you think of anything that you want to have happen or correction, let me know. Thanks!

Briar rolled his eyes and tried not to smile. Evvy giggled, then straight out laughed. Rosethorn grinned smugly at Briar and with a flick of her fingers, the vines released Briar and he crashed into the creek. He popped up sputtering loudly and waded to dry land.

"You look like a wet cat!"

"Thanks ever so much Evvy." Briar ran his hands over his clothes, brushing water away. His face turned serious again as he glanced up at the Yanjingi prisoners. "So what do we do with them?"

Rosethorn stared at them thoughtfully. "I suppose the best thing is just to truss them up as solidly as we can, and then-" she drew the others close, "get to the Circle Temple as fast as we can. At my guess, we could make it there tonight, if we hurry."

Briar's mouth dropped open. "Why didn't you say it was so close?"

"I didn't want you to know and be anxious about it at the gate."

Briar sighed, then shrugged. "I suppose." He turned to the hedax and the scouts. "Let's get it done. I'd like a decent meal tonight."

Evvy squinched her eyes and watched Briar's magic tumble through the vines. The soldiers' vines re-wrapped themselves tightly and stopped moving. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rosethorn shoot Briar a look. He caught his teacher's eyes and the vines loosened slightly. "Alright. The vines will release them sometime tomorrow." He looked hard at Rosethorn. "Stupid bleaters won't starve or nothin'."

She nodded and swung her pack onto her shoulders with a sigh. Briar and Evvy followed suit and walked back to the main road.


*****

The night was cool and quiet. The trio had walked along the road for hours and hardly seen anyone. When people had come, the mages had taken care to hide in the shrubbery at the roadside. As they waited behind a tree for the most recent person to pass by, Evvy's eyes began to drift shut. She slid sideways into Rosethorn. The older woman nudged her upright. "Don't sleep yet, girl. We're almost there."

"That's what Briar said last time," Evvy mumbled.

"Yes, but Briar doesn't know where we're going does he?"

"Mmm..." Evvy was almost asleep again.

It seemed a moment later and Rosethorn pulled her up again. "Come on. Just a little longer." She glanced at the sky where the first streaks of dawn were whiskering the sky. "Do you think you can run? It'll be faster and you'd wake up." The woman didn't wait for an answer, but broke into a jog, her pack thumping her back. Briar grabbed Evvy's hand and pulled her along, stumbling through the half-darkness. Later she realized she couldn't have been fully awake, as it seemed only a few blurry minutes passed before she could see a large grey stone wall looming closer and closer.

Evvy blinked herself awake and let a tendril of magic swirl out to investigate. It was old granite, its sparkle dimmed by hundreds of years of weathering and protective charms. The stone didn't clamor at the girl's magical touch, much to her surprise. It was calm and greeted her cautiously, like a new cat. "Is that it?"

Rosethorn smiled tiredly. "Yes. This is the original Circle Temple. Living Circle Temple, Briar. All my life, I've dreamed.... Never thought I'd see it like this." She snorted. "Things are never as we expect though, are they?" She slowed to a walk and they approached the great stone heights carefully.

A huge oaken door, heavily reinforced with iron and bronze sealed the wall. The wood had scorches, dents, and all manner of repairs and charms set into it. Rosethorn's fingers traced the wood wondrously.

"Mila...."

Briar's hands explored the other side of the door and Evvy set her cheek against the stone, letting its power refresh her. Briar grasped a large bronze ring set into the door.

"Rosethorn?" He didn't lift it, but waited for his teacher. "Should I-" he waved at the door with his free hand.

"How else are we going to get in, boy?" Nonetheless, she paused for a long moment before "Yes."

Briar swung the ring back and let it drop.It boomed loudly against the door and they flinched away at the sound. Rosethorn squared her shoulders. "I doubt once is enough. I'll try once again, then Evvy, you bang it once too. It's a once in a lifetime occurrence."

Thunk. 

Thunk.

They stepped back and stared at the door. After a moment, Evvy stepped up to it again. "It's not going to open itself, pahan-door or not." She had just grasped the ring, when a small slot, high up the door opened with a loud crack.

Brown, almond-shaped eyes peered out. "Please state your names, and what you're doing here at the crack of dawn."

Last Night Part: I don't Even Know

Broken

Eight Years Later

Rosethorn sat at the counter of an Air workroom, a tray of human essence before her, watching as the rain turned everything outside to mud. She sighed and looked back down at her tray. She was helping several other Air and Water dedicates create a cure for the dragon pox that ravaged the Mire each spring. It was incredibly boring. All they did was add a drip of this and a spoonful of that to the little wells of essence. There was no excitement.

She added marshmallow and valerian to the last row of wells, then corked her bottles and carried the tray to the cabinet where it was stored overnight. There wasn't really enough time to start another tray, but Rosethorn picked up a new set of wells anyways. People were dying and the least she could do was spend some time trying to help. She set the tray on her table and began unstoppering little vials of oils and herbs.

This should be exciting. I mean, no one's ever done this before and it's going to save hundreds of people. Rosethorn sighed. But this is going to drive me insane. Locked up in a little room. I'd be more useful with my plants, doing something...else. Like tea.

The door banged open and Crane strode in, hands hanging elegantly out of his sleeves, the black stripe along the bottom of his yellow habit perfectly clean. "All right, time to clean up. There's nothing more to be done tonight." He began to circulate through the tables, nodding approval or sighing deeply.

Rosethorn sat stiffly, hands frozen on her bottles. "Whatever do you mean, 'nothing more to be done'? There's always something we can do."

Crane came to stand by her shoulder. "We can't save everyone, my dear. We'll save more if we're rested and ready to use magic."

She bolted up. "If we use every drop of magic we have, every day, we'll save more. There are people dying right now!"

Her words echoed through the silent room. The other dedicates stared at her in surprise. Disagreeing silently was one thing. Talking back to a dedicate initiate was another.

The remembrance of the black stripe sent hot anger through Rosethorn's veins. "People are dying. Maybe if we worked through the night we could have save them. But we won't. Because we never do!" She screamed loudly.

"We do what we can." Crane's voice was ice cold.

"'What we can' seems to be different depending on who's being helped." She lowered her voice and made a guess. "I'm not stupid. I know you and the other initiates work overtime to try and figure out what's wrong with Froststar."

Crane went stiff. "Where did you hear that?"

Rosethorn glared at him and lied. "Isn't it obvious? Everyone knows. She's sick, and Mila strike me if any of you know what's wrong." It wasn't that obvious. Froststar didn't walk through the temple like she used to and she didn't do flashy magic, but she was old, and busy training a successor. Crane and most of the initiates were late to breakfast and left dinner early, but that could mean any number of things. But Rosethorn wasn't about to admit that.

Crane was pale, with fear or fury Rosethorn couldn't tell. "I'd appreciate if you would keep this to yourself, whether or not it's 'obvious,' as you put it," he hissed. "We are doing everything we can for everyone, the people in the... Mire... included."

Rosethorn glared at him. They weren't doing enough. And Crane didn't care.

She didn't even think as she reached out and slapped Crane across the face with a tremendous crack. An emotion (Fear? Surprise? Hurt?) flitted across his eyes before cold steel settled on his face. Rosethorn gritted her teeth and lunged at Crane, knocking him to the floor. She swung at him with everything Lars, Evan, and Dai taught her before he managed to shove her away. She fell backwards into her chair, which crashed down upon the two of them. Then the other dedicates were there, trying to pull her away. A tall man wrapped his arms about her, and she tried to kick his shins. He didn't let go, so she released a flood of magic into the floor.

Crane froze as long-thorned roses broke out of the floorboards and began to wrap around him. They snaked up his body and stopped at his shoulders. One threw a fine tendril around his neck. The vines blossomed suddenly, the buds along their lengths opening up into plate-sized, pale pink flowers.

The tall dedicate was distracted just long enough for Rosethorn to break away. She turned and ran, throwing open the door and bursting into the pounding rain. Someone called after her, but she ran faster, mud sucking her feet and splashing her habit. She had just passed the last Air workroom when she stepped into a deep puddle. She lost her balance and fell, face first into the mud. It soaked her habit and caked her bare skin.

Rosethorn swore and ripped her sandals from her feet. She could run better barefoot. The habit was dropped into the mud next to the sandals. Skirts were useless.

Voices began to clamor behind her, and she could her slapping feet. Suddenly, she had an idea. Rosethorn lay back in the mud and smeared grime across her gleaming white underrobe and ivory skin. When she was thoroughly brown, she rolled to her feet and dodged behind the nearest tree.

The tall dedicate who had held her was at the lead, and he paused to look at her habit and shoes. He rose and scanned the ground for footprints. Rosethorn swore silently, turned and scrambled over the fence behind her. She landed in someone's backyard when the dedicates realized where she had gone. She ran across the yard, climbed the next fence and began tearing across the temple. She followed the roads when she met them and ran through yards when the roads stopped. The dedicates' calls began to fade away, but Rosethorn kept running.  It was one thing to yell at a dedicate initiate, it was another matter entirely to hit one and then use magic against him. She winced at the memory and tripped, falling face-down in someone's garden.

Breathe...breathe

Rosethorn gasped in a deep breath and tried to pull herself back up, but her legs refused to hold her. She sat down.


It's not too bad, just sitting in someone's garden. Whoever lives here isn't about to come out in this rain. I can just stay here until...she paused. Until I feel like leaving. 

She dug a shallow hole in the bare ground and curled up into it, letting the rain wash cool mud back around her. She had no idea what time it was, but she ached with exhaustion and her eyes kept closing.

"Just for a moment..."

BoLC

Suspended
Rosethorn knelt at the edge of the creek and splashed cool water over her face. Blessed relief. She heard Evvy giggling behind her and turned to glare at the girl.

"One more noise, and I'm hanging you in the next well I come to."

Briar raised his eyebrows. "I haven't seen a single one since we crossed the border. Besides, I thought the next well was reserved for me."

Rosethorn  snorted. "I can hang you both in the same well. And leave you there!"

Briar smiled and swung his pack to the ground. "While we're stopped, we can at least have dinner. It's hot and I think we all deserve a break." He pulled rolls and slices of dried mango from his pack and set them on a large rock with a canteen of water.
He was reaching for the end piece of some summer sausage when a twig snapped behind him. Old street instincts kicked in and he spun on his toes, a knife already in his hands. He couldn't see anyone, but that meant nothing.

"Evvy, Rosethorn, get behind me. Get your knives out out and hold 'em like I showed you."

They stood back to back, eyes darting over the trees. Suddenly, a Yanjingi hedax stepping into the small clearing. Two scout followed him.

"Relax friends," he said smoothly. "We were just passing through and I though I'd say hello. There's raiders around here, and we like to keep out people safe." He circled around Briar's pack, never moving his eyes from the boy's face. "Where are you headed?"

Briar clenched his knife. "To the Gygonxe Circle Temple. They have mages who are adept at healing and we wanted to say hello."

The hedax studied the boy's face carefully. He matched the description of the mage-boy. Gray-green eyes, choppy black hair. There was a girl-child. And an older woman. She didn't have red hair and ivory skin, but that could be easily hidden with face paints. "What are you carrying?" He poked the pack with his spear. It clanked loudly, a noise like glass jars. Medicine jars. "Herbs? Potions? Why not heal yourselves?"

The last word was barely past his lips when he lunged forward at the boy, his spear leading the way. Briar spun to the side, jerking Rosethorn out of the man's path. She slipped and fell, but Briar was already leaping at the hedax. Evvy raced for Briar's pack and ripped open his mage kit.

Thorny vines...wall-breaking vines...tie-people-up vines! She grabbed a few of the cloth balls and threw them towards Briar and the soldiers. "Rosethorn!"

The older woman glanced at the balls, and then Evvy fell backwards as green magic exploded across the clearing. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and her mouth dropped open. "Lallian of the rain, bless me!"

The soldiers were wrapped in vines that tangled with the trees and gleamed with magic. The vines were moving, constantly snaking across the soldiers and retying them. Rosethorn pushed herself upright and grinned at Briar. He hung suspended from one foot over the creek.

"I couldn't find any wells."

Ok. Super hard.

Next Chapter of Last Night

Can't
Rosethorn set her elbows on the table and rested her head in her palms; she didn't care if it was impolite. The ceremonial dinner had lasted longer than the new dedicate had hoped, and she hadn't even talked to her family yet, not really. She closed her eyes. I can listen with my eyes shut, just fine. A moment later, it seemed, her elbow slipped and her cheekbone collided painfully with her plate. Rosethorn sighed and sat up again. No one had really appeared to notice, so she took her napkin and swiped chocolate pudding from her face. She glanced around again and saw Crane smiling at her, eyes dancing. She stuck her tongue out at him and jumped as the other dedicates began clapping the last speaker. Finally it's over!

She hopped to her feet, exhaustion forgotten, and looked around for her family. A crush of dedicates blocked her view, so, scorning any manners she had ever learned, Rosethorn climbed onto her chair, then the table to see clearly.

A young man near the back wall caught her eye, jumping and waving at her. Rosethorn grinned, jumped down, and began to shove her way over to him.

He caught her up in his arms and hugged her tightly, lifting her feet right off the ground. "It's good to see you, lass. I was thinking of you every day."

Another man, a few years younger, playfully punched Rosethorn's arm. She shoved him back and they laughed. "You still hit like a girl, sis; did you forget how I told you to fight?"

"No, Dai! It's just that most of the temple people don't like getting dirty, so I couldn't practice fighting. I introduced a few noses to the ground and ended up washing dishes for weeks. I hate washing dishes. " She grinned, showing no regret.

Rosethorn's brothers began to tell her about Anderran, what had been happening on the farm; with Sami and Lise; how a caravan of Traders had come through. The wheat crop had been good, the Larsons' had a spectacular cherry crop, Hannah and Ellis were growing new apple trees. Evan had just began to describe Lewis' daughter Enna ( She's got this long almost white hair, Rosie, and she had these great blue eyes- It sounds like you like her. No! No! Of course not!) when Rosethorn's father walked up behind her. He hugged her tightly, then held her away and examined her closely.

"I hear you've done well. First credentials at Lightsbridge, now this. Congratulations, Niva-girl."

She smiled weakly. "Yes, Papa. It's pretty good."

Her brothers crowded around, hugged her and said their goodbyes before melting into the masses of dedicates.

"So what are you going to do next? Do you have to stay here, or can you. . . travel abroad?"

Rosethorn sighed. "Papa, I'm not coming home. I took vows for the temple here, so this is where I stay. Besides, I think everyone's probably happier that I'm here."

"Niva, just because you-"

"Papa, before I came here, I had a lot of screw-ups. The barley crop-"

"You didn't even know you had magic."

"The roses? The cherry trees?"

"Those were-"

"'Accidents!' I know! The vines, the thorn bushes, the fennel- What about Hannah's apple trees? And Lise's potato patch? Evan's pumpkin plant! Were those all 'accidents'? Papa, I've been learning here. How to control my magic and things like that."

He sighed. This was a much repeated argument, and they both knew it. "Niva-girl. I'll agree you've been learning here, but it's time to come home. Thyme Circle in Anderran is perfectly fine for you. I still don't know why you insisted on coming here."

Rosethorn stuck her chin out mulishly. "Winding Circle better meets the needs of mages with unusual magic. My magic is unusual. Thyme Circle told you that."

"Unusual? You have green magic, girl. People on all sides of the Pebbled Sea have green magic."

"But their's isn't like mine! They can't feel like I do or make the plants move around for them. Papa, Froststar said I might be a great mage someday! I have to stay here if I want that to happen." As she closed her mouth, Rosethorn realized she had said the wrong thing.

"In that case you must come home. Don't you feel any loyalty to your country? Your family? Your gods cursed plants? You could make Anderran a great country, chief crop exporter for this whole region."

Rosethorn bit her lip. "Papa, I love Anderran. It's where I grew up and where almost everyone I know lives. It's just that... Anderran doesn't love me. Everyone may be polite on the outside, but they haven't forgotten what happened. They still remember all my 'accidents' and the pirate attack-"

Rosethorn's father seized her tightly by the shoulders. "The pirate attack wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. And what happened to that pirate was self-defense. No one can blame you."

Thorns ripping up through the ground, not stopping when they hit pirate flesh. It had taken her father and two other men to cut the thicket of thorns down after the attack. Even when she left for Lightsbridge, there had been rough stumps in the yard outside the door.

"But they remember, Papa. They don't think of it the same way you do. I think it's best if I stay here, for everyone's sake." Tears suddenly threatened to spill down her cheeks. "I love you Papa, and Dai, and Even, and Lars. I want you to be happy and live normal lives, not be worring about a mage-child running around and ruining crops and killing pirates." Rosethorn shut her mouth and looked away, hoping her father couldn't see the tears.

He sighed. "If that's the way it must be, Niva-girl, then so it is. I expect you to write home and visit once in a while." He turned to join his sons, then paused. "I also expect you to come to Lars' wedding in the Gorse Moon." He was silent a moment longer, then quickly said "I love you too."


Next Chapter
Eight Years Later

Rosethorn sat at the counter of an Air workroom, a tray of human essence before her, watching as the rain turned everything outside to mud. She sighed and looked back down at her tray. She was helping several other Air and Water dedicates create a cure for the dragon pox that ravaged the Mire each spring. It was incredibly boring. All they did was add a drip of this and a spoonful of that to the little wells of essence. There was no excitement.

She added marshmallow and valerian to the last row of wells, then corked her bottles and carried the tray to the cabinet where it was stored overnight. There wasn't really enough time to start another tray, but Rosethorn picked up a new set of wells anyways. People were dying and the least she could do was spend some time trying to help. She set the tray on her table and began unstoppering little vials of oils and herbs.

This should be exciting. I mean, no one's ever done this before and it's going to save hundreds of people. Rosethorn sighed. But this is going to drive me insane. Locked up in a little room. I'd be more useful with my plants, doing somthing...else. Like tea.

The door banged open and Crane strode in, hands hanging elegantly out of his sleeves, the black stripe along the bottom of his yellow habit perfectly clean. "All right, time to clean up. There's nothing more to be done tonight." He began to circulate through the tables, nodding approval or sighing deeply.

Rosethorn sat stiffly, hands frozen on her bottles. "Whatever do you mean, 'nothing more to be done'? There's always something we can do."

Crane came to stand by her shoulder. "We can't save everyone, my dear. We'll save more if we're rested and ready to use magic."

She bolted up. "If we use every drop of magic we have, every day, we'll save more. There are people dying right now!"

Her words echoed through the silent room. The other dedicates stared at her in surprise. Talking back was one thing. Talking back to a dedicate initiate was another.

The remembrance of the black stripe sent hot anger through Rosethorn's veins. "People are dying. Maybe if we worked through the night we could have save them. But we won't. Because we never do!" She screamed loudly.

"We do what we can." Crane's voice was ice cold.

"'What we can' seems to be different depending on who's being helped." She lowered her voice and made a guess. "I'm not stupid. I know you and the other initiates work overtime to try and figure out what's wrong with Froststar."

Crane went stiff. "Where did you hear that?"

Rosethorn glared at him and lied. "Isn't it obvious? Everyone knows. She's sick, and Mila strike me if any of you know what's wrong." It wasn't that obvious. Froststar didn't walk through the temple like she used to and she didn't do flashy magic, but she was old, and busy training a successor. Crane and most of the initiates were late to breakfast and left dinner early, but that could mean any number of things. But Rosethorn wasn't about to admit that.

Crane was pale, with fear or fury Rosethorn couldn't tell. "I'd appreciate if you would keep this to yourself, whether or not it's 'obvious,' as you put it," he hissed. "We are doing everything we can for everyone, the people in the... Mire... included."

Rosethorn glared at him. They weren't doing enough. And Crane didn't care.

She didn't even think as she reached out and slapped Crane across the face with a tremendous crack. An emotion (Fear? Surprise? Hurt?) flitted across his eyes before cold steel settled on his face. Rosethorn gritted her teeth and lunged at Crane, knocking him to the floor. She swung at him with everything Lars, Evan, and Dai taught her before he managed to shove her away. She fell backwards into her chair, which crashed down upon the two of them. Then the other dedicates were there, trying to pull her away. A tall man wrapped his arms about her, and she tried to kick his shins. He didn't let go, so she released a flood of magic into the floor.

Crane froze as long-thorned roses broke out of the floorboards and began to wrap around him. They snaked up his body and stopped at his shoulders. One threw a fine tendril around his neck. The vines blossomed suddenly, the buds along their lengths opening up into plate-sized, pale pink flowers.

The tall dedicate was distracted just long enough for Rosethorn to break away. She turned and ran, thowing open the door and bursting into the pounding rain. Someone called after her, but she ran faster, mud sucking her feet and spashing her habit. She had just passed the last Air workroom when she stepped into a deep puddle. She lost her balance and fell, face first into the mud. It soaked her habit and caked her bare skin.

Rosethorn swore and ripped her sandals from her feet. She could run better barefoot. The habit was ground into the mud next to the sandals. Skirts were useless.

Voices began to clamor behind her, and she could her slapping feet. Suddenly, she had an idea. Rosethorn lay back in the mud and smeared across her gleaming white underrobe and ivory skin. When she was thoroughly brown, she leapt up and dodged behind the nearest tree.

The tall dedicate who had held her was at the lead, and he paused to look at her habit and shoes. He rose and scanned the ground for footprints. Rosethorn swore silently, turned and scrambled over the fence behind her. She landed in someone's backyard when the dedicates realized where she had gone. She ran across the yard, climbed the next fence and began tearing across the temple. She followed the roads when she met them and ran through yards when the roads stopped. The dedicates' calls began to fade away, but Rosethorn kept running.  It was one thing to yell at a dedicate initiate, it was another matter entirely to hit one and then use magic against him. She winced at the memory and tripped, falling face-down in someone's garden.

Breath...tbc