4th of Eylestre

I stood with my back against the open door, chewing my lower lip and waiting.

The 'mark,' a greengrocer named Farro Killspear, leaned his short bulk against the door jamb behind me, watching over my shoulder as Orrelian went through the 'office' – a storage room on the top floor of the apartments above Killspeare's shop.

After a moment, Killspear tipped forward a little farther and whispered, "Didn't hear a thing, ye were that quiet."

Orrelian opened the secret compartment in the desk, peered inside, then jotted a few notes in his little black book.

"Out of curiosity, did-ee know it would be me a'bed?" Farro asked, a little louder. "T'night, I mean. Not that-ee do know a'fore, right?" When I didn't answer, he went on with, "I din't. Right surprised I was when Orrelian comes in an' wakes me up from sound slumber wi' news it were all over, like."

I glanced at him, my attention torn between the intense expression on Orrelian's face, and Farro's apparent need to strike up a conversation.

Farro offered a jolly, gap-toothed grin.

Relenting, I responded. "It's a random draw. I don't know who is going to be in the room, or even which room I have to go in through until the night of the test."

His grin widened. "Lah, but ya do talk pretty Miss. I'd sit an' listen t'ya all day, I would."

I cocked an eyebrow, hiding a smile as I turned back to observe Orrelian's progress.

He was checking the bookcase. He made a final note, then shut his black book with a snap, and wheeled to look at me, thick black brows locked in a stern frown.

I had missed something. I swallowed and looked down, preparing for a lecture on how many things I should have done.

"I'll take my leave, I think," Farro had the grace to mutter before ducking off down the hallway.

None of Orrelian's 'marks' ever stuck around for this part, and there had been days at the beginning that I had wanted to run away too. Orrelian's time in the army did not make for pleasant teaching moments. Somehow, though, being repeatedly told on no uncertain terms that I wasn't good enough, and that my stupid mistakes were going to get someone killed, had only made me dig in my heels and try harder.

He was in fine form tonight, letting the silence grow till I was fighting the urge to fidget. For once, though, he didn't start shouting. Instead, one corner of his mouth twitched. Then the other.

"I passed," I whispered. When he didn't say 'no,' I stood up a little straighter, meeting his eyes. "I passed?"

He hesitated a beat longer. Then, abruptly, he announced, "Ya did," and started forward, stepping around me into the hallway.

For a moment, I stared into the empty room. Then I about-faced and hurried after him.

Arramy was standing watch at the bottom of the stairwell at the end of the hall, and as I came down the steps his gaze met mine, his brows raised in unspoken question.

A grim smile and a lift of my hands was all the answer I had before we both followed Orrelian down the rest of the stairs, descending into the basement and slipping out through Killspear's hidden access to the war tunnels. Then the three of us were winding our way unseen beneath the city streets, jogging home through damp concrete passageways by the light of Orrelian's military lantern.

I kept pace with them easily enough, thanks to the brutal physical training Marin had me doing. Elation wasn't the right word for what I was feeling. It wasn't victory, either. I had passed a test, yes, so there was a flicker of dull relief, but it was more like finishing one lap of a marathon. I still had miles to go.

~~~

The slap of cold water hitting my face had me sitting straight up, my lungs pulling for air before my brain had worked out what was going on. The next instant I started choking as another wave of water sloshed over my head.

Then a bright light appeared directly in my face and there was a low masculine laugh in the dark beyond it. "Looks like we found a drowned rat." A large, rough hand – the one not holding the lantern – grabbed my hair and held my head still when I tried to flinch away from the light, forcing me to face it. "None of that now. Ey! Drowned rat, who d'ya work for?"

Eyes squeezed tight shut, I blew water from my upper lip. Think, blast it! Get into character! "K-killspear Grocery," I managed to get out in a thick Low Tettian accent, bringing shaky hands up across the front of my soaked sleep shirt. "Ye're hurtin' me –"

The hand gave a vicious shake, rattling my head, effectively making me stop talking. "What'cha called, then, drowned rat?"

"Lara... Lara Anderfield," I offered, letting the pain in my scalp come through my voice as a slight whimper. "Check bag —"

Again, I received a savage shaking. "Who d'ya work for, huh? Who d'ya work for?" that cruel voice demanded, louder this time.

"Killspear! Pay's in bag, ye can have it, jus' take it!" I pleaded through gritted teeth, opening one eye a crack. "Why are —?"

"I ask the questions. What's Killspear hiding in the cellar?"

"'Ow would I know? I've nowt been down cellar — Ow!" I cried, giving up hiding my damp chest in order to scrabble at the hand yanking my hair.

"What's 'e hiding?" the voice shouted.

"I said I don't know!"

"E'er heard of a man called Orrelian?"

"O-Orrelian? What's Orrelian got —" the hand tightened and I strained upward off the bed. "Aye, fine, Orrelian! E' comes in shop sometimes. Runs Hedgerose. I'll tell ye any-fin ye want ta know if ye stop roughin' me about!"

I was still playing my part, so there was no relief from the pressure on my scalp. "E'er see Orrelian and Killspear meeting in private?"

"I jus tend shop. Not me business wot m'employer gets up ta in private —" I finished on a gasp when the lantern pressed up against the side of my face, the glass dangerously hot against my skin.

"Try again. Did'ya see Orrelian and Killspear talking?"

The glass was going to leave a mark, but I didn't back off, clinging doggedly to my cover. "No!"

"Sure?"

"No more than other customer! Would-ee quit? Ye're searin' me face!"

There was a long pause. Then, slowly, that harsh grip on my hair loosened, and Hedwynn stood, taking the lantern with him. A split-second later my room was illuminated fully, and Orrelian lowered the flint striker from the gas sconce on the wall.

Hedwynn gave me a long look and doused the lantern but didn't say anything before he walked out.

"Drowned rat?" I muttered, glaring at Orrelian as I pulled my knees to my chest.

Orrelian's eyes skated over my features. "'E did get wee bit carried away... I'll ah... send Marin ta check on that." He brushed his forefinger over his left cheek.

I pursed my lips and nodded.

"Well done," he said quietly. Then he stepped out and closed the door.

For several seconds I sat where I had been left, surrounded by a sea of wet blankets, my nose and throat stinging from the water I had inhaled, an angry, burning throb beginning to settle in across my cheek.

At least I hadn't started off speaking Edonian this time.

I turned dull, exhausted eyes on the timekeep above the door. It had only been three hours since we got in and I fell into bed. With luck, I would be able to scrape out another two before Arramy came to get me. Maybe he would be kind and let me have an extra hour. I could hope, couldn't I?

The sound of water dripping on the floor roused me. With a sigh I got up and found something dry to wear. Then I began stripping the bedclothes off for the fifth time in two weeks.

.............................................................

Author's Note:

Ahhh... I have to apologize. Profusely. The Mad Writer Syndrome is already starting. I thought my outline worked pretty well in theory, but there was something bugging me about this chapter once I had it on paper. JadeFoliage put her finger on it: the beginning half is really the logical end of chapter 1, and the last half is the logical beginning of this one. Turkey that I am, I tried to 'fix' it, only to have some of my other beloved readers only get the last half – because the first half was stuck on the end of the first chapter they had already read.

Mommy's SORRY! *sob*

So now I've put it back the way it was. In future I will resist the urge to rearrange the furniture.

My only excuse is that this is a rough draft.

~ Anna (<Turkey)