Loren's hospital room remained out of bounds. Seiren could only watch from the bottom of the grand, sweeping marble steps of Benover Infirmary, which was at least four times as large as Bicknor's. She tucked her feet further beneath the stone bench she sat upon, her rune sketchbook opened on her lap. Hundreds of windows gazed down at her, some with the blinds drawn, others open, lined left and right, several storeys high. There were so many military personnel guarding her room -- the third one from the end on the west wing, whose windows overlook the private hospital garden -- Seiren knew there were strict orders on who could and couldn't enter.

And the runes Kommora had laid outside Loren's room were heavy and throbbing with power. Seiren hadn't felt runes with that much potential since her mother died.

The longer she stayed, the more fed up she felt. Whispers coursed throughout the capital about the most recent attack, with furtive looks, conspiratorial voices, and gross exaggeration of actual events. Some claimed Loren tried to summon a dead body to combat the dastardly evil rogue mages; others said there were an army of demons that were summoned by Hannans that had snuck by the borders.

She idly doodled more runes. Some of them held a tinge of familiarity, probably inspired by her mother's book of runes that night when Seiren had desperately torn through the tomes seeking something, anything, for Madeleine. The dreams of that night were more vivid recently, leaving her exhausted almost to the point of madness.

It's understandable. You've been through a lot of excitement of late.

Excitement? That's what you call it? Seiren rolled her eyes.

Even the sensation of the cold stone bench beneath her bottom faded to the general buzz that covered every inch of her skin. Her eyes closed and opened like thick maple syrup. With a sigh, she slid the sketchbook into her bag and stood up. She had enough; it was time to leave Benover.

She gave Loren's room window a last look before heading towards the council.

Seiren heaved a sigh of relief when the doors swung open and Tahir Portendorfer was nowhere in sight. Nor was Rowan, or Kommora, or any other mage she knew. She was in no mood for pleasantries. A heavy knot sat in her chest that would no doubt erupt either in tears or rage -- or maybe both.

A sealed scroll sat in her pigeon hole. She slid it open with a wave of her hand. The violet rune dissipated and the paper unfurled. She stifled a gasp.

Capture, dead or alive, of rebel mage Halen Ashworth. Location: Iwade.

The merciless steel-blue eyes flashed before Seiren's mind once more. Her abdomen throbbed with a dull ache at the chilling reminder of that day in Bicknor. She swallowed.

Iwade, said Madeleine. That's two hours' train journey north from here.

Good. Get me away from this hellish mess.

She tucked it away. She would leave at once.

She turned and halted. At the door there stood two familiar-looking military personnel in vomit-green uniforms. The girl had straw-coloured, limp hair tied back in a ponytail and glasses that she kept adjusting out of nervousness. The other was a broad-shouldered man three heads taller than Seiren, whose brow was furrowed.

"What the hell do you want?" she blurted out.

The man's frown deepened.

"We are Mage Rummage's aides--"

"I'm well aware who you are. What do you want with me?"

Nice manners, Seiren.

If they tell me to stay here, I'm going to kick their asses so har--

"Our instructions are to facilitate your next tasks until Mage Rummage is fit enough to be discharged from hospital as her current state does not warrant our service." His voice had a rumbling timbre that made the ground below Seiren tremble.

Does that mean exactly what he said or that Kommora doesn't trust me? thought Seiren.

Does it matter? I don't think you have much of a choice.

"I don't need babysitters."

"With the increasingly brutal attacks, and -- with all due respect -- you being a victim of the rogue attackers, too, Mage Nithercott," said the girl quickly, "Mage Haigh felt your safety was of utmost--"

"Oh, so it's Kommora's orders."

"It was her request," said the man.

"I don't suppose my thoughts were taken into consideration for this request?"

They eyed each other but didn't say anything, telling Seiren plenty. She sighed, rolling down her cloak sleeves. She didn't have a choice, then.

The grey sky hung heavy and sullen, too thick for sunlight to penetrate. Mist still hovered around, settling at the bases of the forests in the distance. Farm animals grazed with nonchalance and bliss that made Seiren envious. She stuck her feet on the cushioned seats opposite her, earning disapproving looks from the ladies across the aisle. She didn't care, crossing her ankles in as unladylike a fashion as she could muster, and propping her chin on her hand. Her two new aides didn't make a comment. Her other hand played with the crisp edges of her prepared runes. The silence hovered heavier than the mist outside; this seemed to affect the military girl -- Felora, Seiren thought her name was -- more than the guy, as she picked endlessly at her fingers and couldn't sit still.

The condensation around the outer edges of the dusty train window intensified as the temperature dropped with every minute they sped north. The yellowing grass became buried under layers of ice. Small flakes of snow drifted past, sticking onto the glass so that for a fleeting moment, Seiren got to observe their intricate patterns, not dissimilar to runes, before they dissolved away to nothingness. The surroundings turned white; thick, fluffy snow sat on the ground, changing the scene into stark grey and white. Seiren shivered, wrapping the cloak around her tighter.

Did you bring the knitted scarf and hat I told you to bring?

Of course, mother. It's... somewhere.

Madeleine heaved a sigh.

What do you think happened?

The scenes played before Seiren's mind again. Madeleine was silent, watching those images alongside her, adding in small details she'd sensed through Seiren that Seiren herself had missed. The two figures, one tall with his hood covering his features -- but with a familiar, deep voice -- and the other young, blonde, with a crazed aura, stood atop those steps. The picture was so clear Seiren could see every piercing on that female mage's face and ears and every stone on the cobbled steps.

Loren's face was so lifeless. The rune beside her, one Seiren had never seen before, swirled with the sickeningly thick liquid. Almost out of habit, Seiren fished out her sketchbook and her ink pen and doodled it. She'd never seen such a design. She wasn't even sure it was rune magic -- it held such a dark, threatening thrill it almost scared her.

You told me not to touch it.

It was still active. Madeleine shivered. I don't know. I just had this horrible feeling, like when Portendorfer was using his magic. I just felt so much wrong I could be sick. I just knew if you'd touched it you would get hit by the same thing Loren did.

So you just let Loren carry on letting whatever it was happen to her?

Rather her than you, sister.

Seiren didn't know what to say to that. She could sense something was bothering Madeleine, though. She nudged her with her mind, fondling the necklace's silver chain.

Why would the council send a probationary mage to catch a fully-fledged, experienced state mage that had gone rogue? And not just any rogue mage, either, but the one who'd actually attacked you and almost killed you? Madeleine said. She waited, and then sighed at Seiren's silence. You didn't think about it at all, did you?

Well, with Loren almost dying, my mind was a little occupied.

Are you a healer? Are your healing runes proficient enough to stem whatever's eating away at her? No? Then stop flapping around like some runaway chicken and do something useful, like staying out of trouble.

That will be hard, considering I'm literally seeking the woman who stabbed me in the stomach.

Madeleine sighed again.

"I hear Iwade does some amazing orange-infused tea."

Madeleine snorted.

"Benover does imports of them every month," said the girl. Seiren jumped. She hadn't realised she'd spoken out loud. At least it wasn't any part of the conversation she'd just finished with her sister.

What am I supposed to do with these two puppets tied to my ankles?

Well, they are trained military personnel, so I imagine they'd come in a bit more useful than you were when someone came at you with a throwing knife.

But what if anything new comes up? What if a Hannan appears or I find a way to bring you back -- they'll be in the way.

Then send them away at that point. I think it's safer for you to have these 'puppets' hanging around.

Seiren glanced at them. The guy was built like a mountain. Perhaps he could come in useful. The girl was nervous, always touching her spectacles and fiddling with something. They were Loren's aides, so they wouldn't have been entirely useless, and Seiren would keep them around out of respect for both Loren and the old hag Kommora Haigh. She supposed.

"It's usually around winter time when you get the best teas because they've recently perfected the runes that allow them to roast without the damp of Iwade climate affecting the leaves and peels, so they retain more of the flavour. So they get picked in the spring and get roasted throughout the whole year with the runes during the damper months."

Seiren stared. She didn't realise the girl still wanted to engage in chat. The girl flushed, looking down at her lap and fiddling with the polished golden buttons on her uniform.

"Mage Rummage had put in an order for these not long after you left. She said it was because she wanted to try out Iwade's newest batch but I think it was because she wanted it there for when you next come to Bicknor again."

Seiren cringed at the words. She didn't know what to make of the girl -- Felora? -- sucking up to her.

Or maybe she's just telling you how nice Loren is. Maybe you should stop second-guessing everyone.

Tell me that after you get stabbed in the stomach and then yelled at for doing nothing wrong by your teacher.

"Does she do that for you guys, too? Buy inappropriate things?"

"What's so inappropriate about thinking of her friends?" said the man. Seiren glanced at him. His face was stoic, his eyes deep-set, his clean-shaven chin chiselled and hardset.

"Mage Rummage always thinks of others. When she knew Peron and I were going through hard times with the crackdown at the military -- there were funding cuts and support cuts -- she let us have time off to spend with our families and to get our affairs in order, without docking our pay. She didn't need to do that. Most mages didn't let their aides have time off. We owe her a lot."

So Loren was as sickeningly good to others as she was with Seiren. She heaved a sigh. She only hoped these two didn't have the same expectations of her, for she probably had less niceties than one of Loren's glorious blonde hairs.

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