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."
