Her vision was fading.

The boy who had come out of the bushes peered at her over his shoulder. His face was beaten and bruised and was weathered to a light brown, although at that moment it had drained of blood. Despite his thick dark hair that covered half of his face, his eyes were pale and the pupils dilated in fright. He reminded Tia of Mommu when she had gotten him in trouble.

For a brief moment, their eyes met.

"Rabisu, wait–" the boy said in a low voice as her vision went. There were words being exchanged over her head, but she couldn't comprehend them. She went limp, her mind struggling to stay conscious, and to her massive relief, the pressure around her throat suddenly disappeared and she fell onto the ground.

A big gasp – delicious, invigorating, sweet air! Another breath, and she could feel the energy returning to her body. Her hearing returned first. She could hear pattering footsteps, yells of alarm, and guards barking orders. There were thumps, followed by shouts of pain, and sounds of struggling. Her vision returned somewhat. For a while it was like she was squinting through a fog.

She touched her forehead. A headache was growing, pulsing on both sides of her head and radiating all around. Each throb felt like her brain was banging against her skull. Her cheek was swelling, where the slave had hit her. She touched it gingerly and winced. That would leave a mark.

"Are you all right, sir?"

She jumped. The guards were so quiet it was easy to forget their presence. Her heart raced as she caught sight of the soldier standing stiffly in front of her: a blurred figure and patches of colour on his chest. She couldn't talk – her voice would give her away, and it would be obvious that she was far too young to be wearing that cloak. She cleared her throat with as deep a sound as she could muster and got up on wobbly legs. She dusted herself down, careful to keep the hood over her face.

With a deep breath, she faced the guard who had addressed her. He bowed with respect. She nodded, not speaking, hoping that it would be enough of a response and he wouldn't probe any further. Her eyes began to adjust again, and she could see all the shiny badges on his lapel.

Her heart thumped as he nodded back and said, "Very well, sir." And then he marched away.

People were congregating, alerted by the noises and scuffles. Not wanting to attract any more attention than she already had, she hurried away.

****

"You gave me a fright, Tia! What took you so long?" said Mommu in a beseeching tone, sweeping the floor after her to get rid of the tell-tale dust. He stopped and did a double-take. "What happened to your face?"

Tia said nothing, and hung up her Master's cloak, being careful to smooth out the folds, brush all the dust and marks off, leaving it as though it were never touched in the first place. The pale blue material shimmered. She then got out her apprentice's staff, spinning the wooden stick in one hand absently, and made to go out the back to practise.

"Tia?"

"I-I tripped when I was out," she lied, with her back to him. She touched her cheek. The swelling was there, no doubt purple and shiny, and she would have to explain that later to the Master when she saw him. "I hit my face against a seller's cart. Do not tell the Master, Mommu."

"O-of course not."

Humans were sold as though they were objects, thought Tia, green eyes distant as she drew in the energy of the air around her. Her chestnut brown hair, tied back, swished with the wind as it swirled around her. The events of her day out replayed over and over in her head. Her chest was uncomfortable and heavy. Her head ached and her cheek throbbed. Are slaves really so monstrous?

It suddenly struck her that the slaves could easily have killed her when she had her back to them. But they didn't. They let her go. But why?

And why did Master keep us in the dark with things like these? How did I not know about them? What was so shameful? And, she frowned as the particles began to collect, what happens to the slaves?

The air swirled around her feet, spinning faster and faster around her. Her hair whipped against her back. Her eyes watered but she kept the staff firm on the ground. Her thoughts spun quicker and quicker too.

It is not right though. Humans should not treat other humans like that. Why does King Ea allow this? What will happen to the slaves from today? Death?

She swallowed, and focused all the strength to the point where her staff touched the ground, at which point the energy wove itself with the wind and swirled. The Wind danced around her, responding to the magic. A small tornado began to form, stretching taller and taller, picking up dust and debris from the ground.

The books and the people had always spoken so highly of the great king. Nobody ever spoke badly of him. He was kind, just, gracious, and always correct. There must be a proper reason why slavery was still in practice.

Their lives must be so harsh. That boy's face was battered to such an extent and it seemed like he endured that everyday...

"If your thoughts get any more vicious, Tiamat," said a dry voice, "you'll blow half of Mooncliffe away."

She turned, startled.

"Master!"

Tia lifted her staff. Her small hurricane subsided. Leaves floated back to the ground. Mommu stood just behind the doorway, his fluffy hair sticking up in odd places as though he had clutched at it once too often. His eyes darted at her face and then at the Master's.

Tia dipped one knee in respect for her Master before looking up, eagerness in her glowing face. The Windcaster smiled gently at her, which was then replaced with concern.

"What happened to your face, Tiamat?"

"I–I was fetching the metal bucket from the shelves in the stable, Master." She avoided his gaze. "I miscalculated, and it hit my face when it fell."

"You must not be so careless, my child. You could have harmed yourself. Be sure to put a cold towel on it to ease the swelling."

"I am sorry, Master. I shall."

"And I have told you many times to keep your mind as calm as still air when you are Casting," he said with a slight frown. His blue eyes were gentle, and always seemed to promise all would be fine in the world. "For with your abilities, you could very well summon a hurricane and destroy most of Dernexes. Calm as the still air, otherwise your raging mind will make the Wind spiral out of control."

"But what about when you take control of the storms, Master Anu?" Tia asked, relieved that he didn't pursue her tale further. She hurried after him as he made his way over the cobbled ground into the house. He gave his book to Mommu. The boy bobbed his head in respect and went to place it in its usual spot in the study area. "When they are so ferocious in the springtime, when you are called upon for duties – what then? The Winds are angry – surely you do not take in its anger to counter it?"

"To become a true Windcaster, Tiamat," said the Master, "you must hear the Wind call to you; hear its song and, in turn, sing in response."

"So you become one with the Wind before singing it to tranquillity?" She frowned.

He chuckled and patted her head. She stared back up, her mouth turned down at the corners, before dropping her eyes.

"If your head were not so full of ridiculous thoughts and your behaviour not so reckless, you would have made a fine Windcaster already."

"I'm just not a qualified Quaestor Caster yet!" she protested as she went about her usual duties. She placed her own staff with her trainee cloak and then dusted the charter table, where storms were studied by her Master. It was his duty as the Windcaster, to forecast the weather, in particular storms and hurricanes, and to pass the message onto nearby cities.

Soon, she thought, eyeing the neat ink sketches tucked in the corner of the room. Those will be my duties too.

Taking out two books from the large bookshelf, she readied for the night's study, placing them with care next to her unlit candle. The sun began to sink in the distance, staining the skies a bright orange.

"If you will only permit me to take the entrance exams, Master..."

"I have said this before, Tiamat. I do not wish you to get involved with the Casters under the king's jurisdiction."

"But the prestige, Master, and I can pass..."

He fixed her with one of his disapproving looks she knew well.

"You never take my requests seriously, Master Anu." Tia pouted.

"Hush, child. Let me read this letter from the king's advisor."

She fell silent, her large eyes at the Master's gold medallion, which hung around his neck. The circular object, featuring a hawk with its wings widespread in the centre, was reinforced with magic and was a King's Keep medallion, one of the ten in existence. It could only be worn by the king's Censors, the highest rank in the king's Keep, the group of Windcasters directly under the king's command. She sighed to herself. The old man shook his head slightly, before drawing out a stash of scrolls from his travel bag and she instantly brightened.

"What news do you have from Capital, Master?"

"What do you wish to know?" he asked wearily.

"Are we to go to war with—"

"Such talk is blasphemy, Tiamat," the old man interrupted, looking tired. Tia shut her mouth with a snap, affronted. She struggled with herself internally before deciding to swallow what she was hoping to say. "War is a terrible thing all nations should strive to avoid."

"But some strive less than others," she couldn't help but note. The Master sighed.

"That is the unfortunate truth, my child," he said sadly. "I would not wish war on anybody. Its devastation and sacrifice is too great to contemplate. It will all just end in tragedy and great loss on both sides."

"But we can win if we go to war." She picked up her books and the unlit candle. "You are one of this Kingdom's most powerful Windcasters. The king has to ask you nicely for your help!"

She paused and then grinned cheekily.

"And when I am Quaestor—" She stopped as the old man raised a hand to silence her.

"With your personality, you will cause many problems for yourself, should you answer to the king." He lowered his hand. "Just passing your Windcasting grades will be enough. Have you studied for Level four yet?"

Grumbling under her breath, Tia did not reply, and brushed by without curtseying or waiting for dismissal. She climbed the wooden ladder on the side of the walls, which led up to the little loft she shared with Mommu, and disappeared to change out of her robes.

Mommu was lighting an oil lantern and placing it in the centre of the supper table. The thud of the metal instrument and the hiss of the struck match could be heard through the wooden floorboards.

"Ah, Mommu," Master said in his deep voice as Tia pulled her robes over her head; she paused, "set one more for the table tonight."

"We are to have a guest?" she called, pulling the rest of her clothing on. She let her ponytail down, shaking it loose. She peered over the edge of the loft, long hair cascading behind her head as he looked up. Master Anu had paused in the act of flicking through a thick bind of texts.

"Yes, we are. I found a young man earlier on today who had no home to go to. I suggested that we offer him hospitality."

"Ah, a stray," said Tia without a second thought, retreating.

"You should not say things like that, Tiamat," said the Master. "When others offer you hospitality when it is time for you to begin your own travels, you would not like them to refer to you ungraciously. He is no trouble at all. In fact, he might even be less trouble than you."

"Hrnph!" she snorted overhead.