"I didn't know Windcasters can foretell the weather. I thought they can only conjure the Wind to do their bidding," said Sarpanit in surprise.

"There are many skills within a Caster's repertoire."

"Forgive me if my only knowledge of these blessed Windcasters is of how you obliterated my people in the last Great War," the Gwentian girl said in a snappish tone, annoyed.

Tia couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Gwent tried to invade Dernexes! Your people infiltrated Ptarmigan Fortress and Elder Down–"

"Taking back what is rightfully ours!"

There was a stunned silence. Sarpanit had flushed pink all over.

"That's right! Elder Down was first and foremost a Gwentian city until Dernexes stormed it! As long as Windcasters allow their country to flourish, we remain forever too weak to take our city back – not that any of your kings would care about fairness anyway!" she added, the bitterness evident in her voice.

"Dernexes would have fallen during the Great War if the Windcasters hadn't stepped in," Tia said, defensive. "We had to save our people!"

"Is that what they told you?"

Tia stopped, cold.

"My grandfather, King Nintu II and the previous king of Gwent, was a kind person." Sarpanit's voice was quiet. "He was gentle but indecisive, often easily influenced by the will of others. He thought he could persuade King Ea of Dernexes to return Elder Down to Gwent, but that ended in ridicule and sneers. Subsequently he agreed with the advisors' proposal we take back Elder Down by force."

"So Gwent did instigate the invasion."

"Yes. And we would have succeeded too – and stopped when the new border is established – but then a mysterious storm blew right over our troop base and annihilated every last man. If it wasn't for the raging fire at Elder Down that lasted for weeks, Dernexes could easily have invaded Gwent by then. But the haste in burning the city to prevent our men from fleeing home and to prevent support from arriving also ironically impeded their own progress."

Tia glowered, irritated. "My sources say that it was Gwent who set fire to the city; having seen the unavoidable loss approaching, your country did not want the city to fall to anyone's hands if it cannot be theirs."

"Does your source work for King Ea?"

"No."

"Does your source answer to King Ea?"

When Tia didn't answer, the Gwentian princess nodded.

"I've already told you, Tiamat: Dernexan history is heavily influenced by the monarchs. Ours is more accurate because it's less vulnerable to anyone changing its facts, although it's never fully true because it's all hearsay. History is always told by the victor, that's what my father always says. Isn't it funny though," she mused, "that both our countries portray themselves in the positive light as the victim, and the other country is always the perpetrator?"

"I do not find that humorous at all," said Tia with a stony face. Sarpanit let out a squawk of laughter, a strange sound given the heated, unpleasant atmosphere shortly before. It echoed around the empty library.

"Perhaps later, you might." She winked, her chirpiness returning. Tia envied her ability to recover so rapidly and not bear grudges. Her resentment ebbed away and she found herself being cheered up despite her desire to brood. Accepting the tome back and glancing over the strange, foreign text again, she frowned.

The character for wind was oddly familiar. The rest of the text made little or no sense to her, but that character, repeated throughout the two-page spread, she had seen somewhere else before – not in the library, but...

She slid the book quickly onto the nearest table and fished the Book of Wind from the front of her over-tunic. Sarpanit leant against the balcony, humming to the darkness far below; the other scribes had retired to bed for the night and it was evident she wanted to as well. Tia was too absorbed to see the pointed looks she was thrown.

"Was there ever a point where Gwentian and Dernexan shared a language?"

Sarpanit jerked awake.

"Uh, yes," she mumbled. She shook her head, waking herself up. "Ancient Gwentian and ancient Dernexan were the same language: the One language. The separation of the countries for so many years meant the two languages evolved separately but they still share some common roots. I guess that's another thing Dernexan history omitted. Why?"

Tia was quiet for so long, fixated with the old wrinkled pages within the tome Sarpanit had almost dozed off again.

To Tia's growing astonishment and excitement, the tome was beginning to make sense. The apparent strange words, foreign characters and peculiar syntax had elements of modern Gwentian and modern Dernexan so that, when combined, the meaning became just about understandable. It was like curtains had been lifted from the front of her eyes; the possibilities now seemed endless. Her fingers danced along the spines of the next shelf of books and plucked out one on the One language.

Her green eyes strained in the growing darkness, darting from book to tome, and back again. The spell unravelled itself before her eyes. Her breath got caught in her throat.

From Master to Master, the lore is passed on, but the knowledge granted is limited to the diligent, select few who gain the title of 'Master'. Endowed by such powerful wisdom, each one granted such a privilege is rigorously trained and examined such that their loyalty is guaranteed to be unwavering even in the face of adversity.

The secrets of the Wind are sacred and grant the user immense power; misuse has great potential for destruction. Great power comes at a great price for disciples of the Wind. Power lies within the balance.

Pity the traitor WIndcaster cared not for this balance, thought Tia vehemently, stabbing her quill back into the inkpot and then reading the text she had painstakingly transcribed, her heart pumping. She picked up the scroll, upon which she had scribbled the translation. Her hands shook.

Spurred on, she snatched the quill back, leaving ink droplets along its path. Sliding a new scroll in front of her and dragging the two books closer, she immersed herself within the next block of text, operating almost automatically. Her field of vision was filled by the letters and characters and her mind occupied by nothing except for the prose sitting in front of her. If the world had collapsed around her at that point, she would not have noticed.

When sunlight streaked through the slim windows at the top of the tall walls and bathed the scholars' tables on the ground floor, Tia finally let her quill drop and sat back. The muscles of her forearm ached. Her neck ached. Her back ached. Her whole body grumbled and complained. Her eyes blurred in front of her as she tried to blink sleep away; the contents on the yellow parchment swam in front of her eyes. She shook her head. The warm, glowing sense of achievement kept the grin stretching across her pale little face. With a happy sigh, she curled her legs beneath herself, hugging her torso with delight and green eyes glowing.

"Care for lunch?"

Tia jumped, squealing in surprise.

"You've been here the whole night," Sarpanit said, raising an eyebrow as she proffered the contents of the tray in her hands. Tia didn't answer, drawn by the sweet aroma of the thick soup and newly-baked seeded bread. She almost drooled as her starved stomach rumbled. The Gwentian princess gave a squawk of laughter. "Eat, Tiamat!"

****

"So what were you doing all night? I tried getting you to go to bed but you just ignored me entirely."

"I was not aware of your... presence," Tia said, embarrassed.

Sarpanit shook her head with a chuckle. They were sitting on the low stone walls in the garden of herbs, soaking in the remains of the sunlight and breathing in the cold, crisp air, which was tinged with Mentha. Tia had been dragged out from the depths of the library, protesting.

"I guessed as much. What was so interesting about that old book anyway? The old Gwentian texts have been sitting in our library for hundreds of years; barely anyone had shown interest in them over that time."

"Do you recall I could not read the Book of Wind as it is in a language foreign to me?"

"Yeah."

Tia frowned, jarred by the strange sound coming from Sarpanit's mouth, which she took as affirmation.

"I believe the Book of Wind is written in the One language, the ancestor of modern Dernexan and Gwentian. Dernexan has evolved so separately from Gwentian that I cannot read it without knowing some Gwentian. With that book on the One language translated into modern Gwentian, I can translate that into modern Dernexan too."

"So what's in the tome? Or am I not allowed to know?"

"I have not yet been able to translate beyond the first five pages, but the first few pages speak of the duties of a Windcaster. Bestowed with power and trust, we are in a difficult position whereby our actions can result in huge consequences. It speaks of our code to be just and selfless, to not interfere with human matters and to maintain the balance." Tia was quiet for a few moments, appreciating the wilting plants, their leaves covered with light frost. The Mentha, with its jagged leaves, still stood proud and green, unaffected by the dropping temperature. Most of the other herbs and plants had been long harvested and all that remained were the browned, dead leaves on the soil and small, thin twigs sticking up into the air.

The off-white fragments of salt glistened on the paved stone ground. Patchy white frost crept over the surface and also along the top of the low stone walls. As Tia moved her hand from the top of her seat to interlink her fingers together across her lap, she left a hand print in the shape of her thick glove on the small film of ice.  Tia's nose and cheeks were pink from the biting wind but the rest of her body was warm. The itchy headscarf given to all Gwentians, and her as well, insulated her ears well against the chill. In the distance, beyond the plain stone pillars, she could spot frost covering the grass fields as far as she eyes could see.

"The Book of Wind is essentially a book of philosophy and knowledge, with high-level, powerful Wind magic. It teaches Casters how to be one with the Wind and how to behave with the dignity expected of a Caster. I was able to translate one complete spell last night. It will take a few weeks, but I believe I can decode most of the Book."

"Tia..."

Something in Sarpanit's voice made Tia look up.

"What is it?"

"Papa was telling me this morning..." Sarpanit hesitated, as though chewing the words over in her head. "There has been news from Dernexes. About the Dernexan army."

"Oh?" It had completely slipped Tia's mind. In her terrified flight and struggles from the Mawlinese, she'd forgotten the purpose for which Master Anu had sacrificed his life: to recall the marching army. "Where are they now? They should have long arrived home."

"That's the thing. They've... they've been wiped out."

Tia went cold, colder than the snow around them.

"But that is impossible." Her voice was alien to her ears. "There... there were so many of them. And there were Windcasters amongst them. How...?"

"I don't know." Tia's fists shook. As long as Dernexes still had an army, there was hope the country could be restored. Now, naked and helpless, Dernexes was only going to go one of two ways: to succumb to Mawlin rule or be invaded by Gwent.

There was no hope of returning it to its former glory.

"And they're after Gwent, next."

Sarpanit looked as though she were expecting something from Tia, her red-brown brows furrowed.

"I will not use magic for Gwent," Tia said, her heart still fluttering. "I have stated as such when I first arrived."

She would not – could not – do what the older Windcasters had done during the Great War. It was too much against the ethics of Casting. It was difficult to imagine Master Anu changing his mind and participating against Gwent fifteen years ago, but she was certain that should the same decision fall to her hands, she would not waver. And it was almost betrayal to her Dernexan roots to even contemplate using magic for Gwent, regardless of the warring status.

She was surprised to see the Gwentian girl look affronted at her reply; her full lips were curled downwards at the corners.

"After all we've done: clothed you, fed you, kept you safe... and you can say it with such disregard." Tia was astonished by the disgust, but it was obvious that there was no humour in the shaking voice.

"I have told you how important keeping the Wind balanced is; I cannot afford to use it again for any human gains. It is against my Dernexan rules—"

"There will be no Dernexes left, don't you understand?" Sarpanit shouted. Tia flinched. "And so you'll let your saviours die because of these principles."

"I will still assist Gwent in any way I can. I am eternally grateful for the kindness and hospitality—"

"To hell with your gracious words, Tiamat!" Sarpanit had flushed a deep red and she jumped to her feet. "You with your Wind magic are our trump card – it's the only way we stand a chance against Mawlin – without your magic, what use are you? Our own are more helpful to us than you'll ever be!"

 "I cannot, Sarpanit!" Tia let out a frustrated sound. "The use of the magic is not for me to use as you or I dictate – there are rules I must abide by!"

"Damn the rules! When Gwent falls – and we will fall if you stand idle the way you plan to – it will be our blood and Dernexes's blood on your hands!"

With that, she whirled around and stormed off, her ponytail swinging with every furious stride. Tia stared after her, torn and flushed, her skin tingling with adrenaline. Overhead, birds chirped and the Wind sang its usual sweet tone in a gentle manner.