She woke to find a stranger bustling about her room. "Rise and shine!" the woman said cheerfully as she dusted the armoire.
Ciardis sat up in alarm, rubbing her eyes carefully. She frowned at the woman, who was wearing what was clearly a maid’s uniform and wielding a stick with a bunch of feathers tied to one end. "What are you doing?" she asked curiously.
The woman cast her an amused glance and said, "Why, I'm dusting, obviously." Ciardis decided not to question it further, and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. "There's breakfast for you in the common gardens," the woman said.
"Thank you," said Ciardis. "How do I get there?"
"Go out the door, turn right, walk down the hall, turn left, go down the spiral staircase, and you'll be right in the gardens. Can't miss it!"
Ciardis dressed and followed her directions, as well as the aroma that led her straight to a laden breakfast table. As she wandered over to it, she admired the beauty surrounding her. The garden was laid out in a quadrant pattern, with low-cut grass and small rocks as boundaries. A high hedge surrounded the whole garden except for a long opening opposite the staircase.
Grabbing some fresh fruit and fried bread, she stepped toward the opening in the garden hedge. It looked down onto the beach she'd noticed yesterday, and she gasped aloud as she took in the striking sight of the turquoise waves lapping at the sand. After a while, she returned to the table, picking the chair nearest to the ocean.
Soon, a girl with thick braids looped across her head and down her back joined her at the table. "Beautiful, isn't it?" she asked.
"Yes," replied Ciardis softly, "It is."
"No matter how long I'm here, I know I'll never tire of this view," the girl said. "I'm Terris, sponsored by Vana," she said, offering her hand.
Ciardis turned to her, surprised, and shook her hand. She recognized the sponsor – the one Serena had called a harridan. "Ciardis, sponsored by Serena. Are you from the Summer Isles?"
"Yes," said Terris, smiling a shy smile. "You know that my sponsor hates yours, right?"
"I got that impression," Ciardis said tentatively while munching on a piece of bread. They looked at each other and burst into giggles. They started chatting and barely noticed when others joined them. Their conversation stretched on until the sound of a bell rang throughout the garden.
A woman stood at the head of the table, clearly waiting for their attention. After a few minutes of waiting she announced, "Welcome, young recruits, to the Companions’ Guild. Your tutorials will begin in five minutes. You can meet your sponsor in the main hall."
The recruits eagerly got up to go to the main hall. As soon as Ciardis saw Serena, the first thing out of her mouth was, "What's the difference between a wife and a consort?"
Ciardis clasped her hand over her mouth. She'd been wondering all night, but she hadn't meant to blurt it out like that. Fortunately, Serena seemed amused. "Good question! You're jumping right in, I see. Walk with me."
They exited the grand hall to a small path that led down to the beach. Along the way, Serena explained, "A consort is a contractual partner - they hold power and rank equal to their spouse's. If you are Queen Consort, you are so much more than just a Queen. A spouse, on the other hand, is a husband or wife. They hold only the power personally delegated to them by their partner. A Consort maintains all of the power that their partner does with no restrictions."
"Oh," said Ciardis, "That sounds quite complicated."
"It is," Serena replied. "But in situations where a Companion is being considered for the rank of consort or even spouse, the Companions’ Guild will advise on the structure of the partnership and contractual agreement to serve." She waved a dainty hand. "But enough of those matters for now. That is far ahead in your future." She clapped her hands excitedly. "Sarah tells me you're one of the long-lost Weathervanes! I just knew it!"
Is that why you called me “baseborn” on our way here, then?
"My dear this changes everything!" said Serena, ignoring Ciardis's silence as she twirled around.
"How so?" inquired Ciardis. "I mean, I know about the—my—family history, but it usually takes a while for a girl's gifts to manifest, right? None of my female ancestors were able to enhance before their eighteenth birthdays.
Serena stopped twirling. "You have been studying. That's very good!" she said, turning to face Ciardis, her finger at her lips.
Ciardis resented being spoken to like a toddler, but once again held her tongue.
"Look, this is how it goes," Serena said in a no-nonsense tone. "Now that we know you have a talent—and it's an exceedingly rare one at that—either you will automatically be accepted as a Companion trainee, and we'll accelerate your tutorials to prepare you for your Coming Out ceremony at the Patron Hunt, or we'll gently start informing eligible patrons of your unique gifts."
At this, Serena clasped her hands together, "The turnout will be spectacular. Everyone will want to see the new Weathervane – especially the mages."
Ciardis gave a weak grin. She was excited, she really was, but she couldn't help but remember all those ancestors mentioned in the book whose gifts hadn't ever manifested. What would happen if hers didn't?
"Now," said Serena, ticking off points on her fingers, "Before the Patron Hunt, you'll need to take Dance, Defense, Manners, and Practicals. I'll hire a transfer mage to copy the Sahalian language in you, as well. These tutorials will be crucial to your success at the Patron Hunt. You must impress viable candidates with your composure. What are your personal attributes?" asked Serena, beaming.
"I have no idea what you mean by that," Ciardis said without hesitation.
Frowning Serena rephrased while moving her hand in an encouraging manner, “What are the things that you’re good at?”
“Reading,” said Ciardis quickly.
Serena flicked off the example. "Oh, so boring! The correct answer is 'hunting, darts, and riding.'"
Ciardis stared at her in wide-eyed horror.
Laughing, Serena said, "Really, dear, we must buy you a sense of humor. Just a little joke. But seriously, we'll have to come up with a better list than just 'reading.'"
Serena stopped, looking over Ciardis’s shoulder. Ciardis looked around, raising her hand to shade her eyes from the sun's glare. The bright rays shining down made the castle sparkle with waves of pink, but she wasn't fooled. The glare felt ominous, like the stone walls held secrets that were creeping up on her, step by step, while blinding her with its beauty.
A small, slender man was gliding toward them across the sand. He wore silky gray pants and a tan vest over a long-sleeved white shirt. Serena was clearly appreciating his physique, and Ciardis couldn't help but think, He must be so warm in that outfit.
As he approached, Serena said, "Ciardis, may I present your tutorials instructor for the Patron Hunt, Damias Lancer." At his shallow bow, she continued, "Damias is the finest tutorial instructor in the Guild. If anyone can get you prepared for the Patron Hunt in three months' time, he can."
A small smile eased onto Damias's face. "Lady Serena exaggerates, but I will do my best to make you the greatest candidate presented at the Patron Hunt this season." He clapped his hands together. "Now, shall we get off this dreadful sand? We'll begin with your Dance tutorial inside."
They headed off the beach and into an empty ballroom, where Ciardis proceeded to learn the first ballroom dance steps for what felt like hours. It was surprisingly exhausting, and the dances were completely unlike the sprightly village dances she already knew. When they finished, after several encouraging remarks from Damias—although she swore she heard Serena mutter from the sidelines something about storks who couldn’t dance—they transitioned to Defense.
Defense was probably better described as “how to hide pointy things in your dress and curtsy without stabbing yourself,” but it was actually quite fun. They went over how to conceal knives in various garments, keeping sharpened needles tipped with sleeping potions in her hair, and Ciardis's favorite: a fan with spikes that extended outward with a push of a button. Damias cautioned her that the fan was an absolute last resort in battle, and would be given to her only after she'd mastered the katas, the formal military dances associated with its use.
"The Manners tutorial will be held over lunch," Damias said when they were done, "Serena and I will instruct you in the etiquette of noble meals, while feasting on the finest dishes offered in the Guild."
Damias picked up two clear goblets and set them before her. Then he laid out five eating utensils along with two napkins.
"The napkins I understand, but why do I need two goblets and five pieces of silverware?"
He picked up both goblets, holding one in each hand. "The slender goblet will always be for wine. The larger goblet will take water for you to drink with your meal. If you wish to signal a server that you desire no further refills, simply place the smaller napkin upon the glass."
Serena said, "And, of course, each of these utensils serves a purpose." She picked them up one by one as she explained. "These are the salad fork, the meat fork, the dessert fork, the carving knife, and the butter knife. If you happen to need a spoon, it will be served with the appropriate course."
"In Vaneis, we only had one utensil besides a knife," said Ciardis, carefully memorizing the name and placement of each utensil. "It was round-bottomed with three tines."
"We have those here, too," Damias said with a smile. "Though you'll rarely see them in a noble's house, and then only in the lower kitchens. They're called foons."
"What a ridiculous sounding name," tutted Serena.
"Another thing," said Damias, carefully wiping his mouth with his napkin. "Always be aware of what you're drinking. Only accept drinks from prospective Patrons or the servers."
"In the past a few trainee companions have gone to great lengths to ensure a successful match,” interjected Serena, "Actions which we find deplorable were taken – including use of poisons to get rid of potential rivals."
“In addition to conventional methods like poisoning, several trainees – who have since been removed from the Companions’ Guild – spelled a hallway in the guild by pouring their magic into the walls and causing another trainee walking the halls to have hallucinations. The perceptions were so vivid visually and mentally that she believed she was drowning. She believed it so much that she stopped breathing because her lungs couldn’t retain enough air even though the hallway was perfectly normal.”
Damias pursed his mouth in distaste. "I hope I never hear of such a thing happening with you, Ciardis."
"No, of course not!"
After lunch, Serena escorted Ciardis to the barter station in town. Serena took her up to an older man with rheumy eyes. He wore nondescript clothing and leaned on a cane. Serena said to Ciardis, "This is the only registered copier in ten miles. He’s also deaf."
Serena leaned over and picked up a small piece of parchment with scribbles on it. She neatly wrote out, The Sahalian language.
Once they have finished negotiating a suitable rate, she paid him one hundred and fifty shillings for two years of knowledge. He touched Ciardis's shoulder, and she felt the same electric jolt that Stephanie had given her the night before and suddenly she was thinking in the difficult Dragonkin tongue.
As they walked away, Serena muttered to Ciardis, "He's blind, practically deaf, and getting senile. I'll be so glad when that recruit, Stephanie, finally masters her copying talent. It cannot come a day too soon."
Ciardis asked casually, "Masters? Is she not already talented?"
"Oh, she is," assured Serena, "But she needs the seal of approval from the Talents Guild before she can practice and sell her skills at the Barter station or to private consumers. Though, she only has two more weeks before her Talents exam, since she was selected by a superb Patron this past fall."
Ciardis decided not to mention Stephanie's unapproved talent transfer from the night before.
"Once you've been selected by a patron as their companion, you'll go before the Talents Guild, as well," Serena said.
From then on, time passed quickly with Ciardis’s Dance and Defense tutorials, measurements for ball gowns, dinner staging, and tutoring in art appreciation, household arrangements and decorative arts.
*****
As her sixth week of tutorials came to a close, Ciardis ruefully remembered her hope for a new life, away from bullies and hard labor.
Today had been proof that everything and nothing had changed.
She’d managed to run into Patricia again, and this time, the girl’s telepathic snit wasn’t a small affair.
Ciardis had been minding her own business in one of the outer gardens, practicing the different levels of curtsies given to a person depending on their social status. Her knees were bent and her skirt was spread on the ground, when a stiff breeze unbalanced her. She tumbled to the ground and her skirts flew over her head.
As she quickly righted herself and brushed her hair from her face she heard laughter erupt from behind her. In the shadows of the garden entrance, two girls and a young man stood clearly mocking her. The girl next to Patricia was mimicking her fall with an exaggerated face and arms milling widely about for balance.
The boy next to her was silently watching as a wind came down from the sky and began to twist around him so that he stood inside his own whirlwind. He watched her with calculating eyes and Ciardis knew that he had been the cause of her fall. The winds around them now and before were nowhere near strong enough to push over a person without a mage’s help.
Ciardis’s faced flamed with embarrassment, but she couldn’t run. They were standing in the middle of the only path back to safety and her room.
With nowhere to go and no way to avoid them, she raised her head high, her chin trembling, and grabbed a bunch of her dress in both hands to keep her hands from shaking with tremors.
“You know,” said Patricia with a hint of cruelty in her voice, “If you really wanted to learn how to pay respect to the ground, I would have had Terris show you.”
Going stiff with ire at the girl’s dig at her friend, Ciardis retorted, “It takes a dirt kisser to know one, Patricia. Perhaps you should teach me.”
The young man at Patricia’s side quickly stifled a laugh with a cough into his fist.
Patricia’s charming smile transformed into a frown to rival the anger of the legendary Bella Mickens—a girl Ciardis knew from back home in Vaneis who nobody messed with. Ciardis cringed and ducked instinctively, ready for the blow to hit her, completely forgetting her defense training.
But she had underestimated Patricia. She wouldn’t hit anyone; the risk of marring her manicure was too great.
“At least I’m not some gold digging baseborn bitch,” the girl said viciously. “Go back to where you came from—you won’t find a husband there, either, but it’s better than the humiliation you’ll receive here.”
She turned around, stepped around her companions, and swept off in a huff without a backwards glance, leaving Ciardis with tears running down her face.
Patricia’s friends followed right behind her leaving Ciardis to wonder how this person far removed from her life up North had found out about her broken relationship with Fervis Miller.
Was nothing a secret here? Nothing of mine is, she thought ruefully.
After some dramatic dirt kicking, which left the garden looking like a lawn gnome had decided to redecorate, Ciardis went back to her room.
"And to think I thought they’d be nice here," she muttered to herself, then sighed and collapsed on her fluffy bed. Spreading her hands over the mattress, she couldn't help but smile as she remembered her room back in Vaneis. Living in this castle was worlds above the small freezing inn where even with a heat spell the nights were cold and the blankets too thin. Flipping over and putting her hands behind her head she reminisced over the lessons from the past two months. It seemed never-ending - there was always something she didn’t know.
Damias was a difficult taskmaster, but she could tell he was making every effort to prepare her for her Hunt, although sometimes she wondered if he planned for her to die of exhaustion before she even got there.
Hearing a knock at her door, she rolled over onto her back and shouted, "Come in." Sitting up, she couldn’t help but hope it wasn’t Patricia; she didn’t need more trouble today.
It wasn't Patricia, thank goodness. Terris stood in the doorway, bearing cakes.
“Phew,” said Ciardis, “I’m just glad you’re not Patricia...or Stephanie, for that matter.”
She hadn't seen Stephanie in weeks. After Stephanie had passed the Talents Guild test four weeks ago, she'd moved into an apartment of her own in the city. No doubt she was insanely busy preparing to take over from the ancient Master Copier at the Barter Hall.
But she had been so thoughtful and arranged to have a local woman continue to deliver her dirty laundry to Ciardis's doorstep once a week like clockwork.
Ciardis gave Terris a grin and patted the bed. They’d become fast friends over the past few weeks.
“Stephanie, I get. She’s got an intense laundry situation, that one. I swear the last pile that woman brought over was taller AND wider than me” said Terris. “But Patricia?”
Ciardis quickly filled her in on that morning’s events.
Terris set the box of soft cakes on the bed between them and they proceeded to divvy up the spoils. Ciardis went for the delectable caramel rolls—soft cake drizzled with sweet honey and caramel sauce—because they reminded her of winter back home. Terris preferred the brown ginger cakes for their hint of sweetness and overall snap.
"I saw you dancing with Lord Damias in the solar today," Terris said.
Ciardis groaned aloud before Terris could utter another word. "No, I didn’t mean it that way. You’re not so bad. I mean...you're getting better!" Terris said. "Sailor's honor."
"You mean I only stepped on his toes three times and tripped him once, right?"
"Yeah," admitted Terris with a wry grin, "That about covers it."
Ciardis rolled her eyes and popped another morsel into her mouth. Through the mouthful of cake, she said, "I don't know how they expect me to memorize all those dances by the Patron Hunt! I'm going to look like a bumbling fool, I just know it!" Sulkily, she muttered, "Why can't they just hire a copier to instill it in me?"
"You know why," said Terris sternly. "A skill like dancing costs ten thousand shillings, because they can't just give you one dance—it must be all of them. Besides, there are only two copiers in all of Sandrin presently, and neither of them can dance worth anything.”
"What? How did Stephanie pass her Patron Hunt if she couldn’t dance?"
“Well, technically she can dance to music—it's just not up to the skill of her sword dancing," Terris explained. "The Companions’ Guild decided in her pre-Hunt interview that she should stick to the swords, since her prospective Patrons all professed an interest in the subject."
"Right," Ciardis murmured.
"You, on the other hand," said Terris as she playfully lobbed some popped corn kernels in Ciardis's direction, "don’t have a primary or a secondary talent to rely on and must learn what you can before the Hunt starts."
"That's not true!" argued Ciardis. "I can make a mean snow cone!"
"Snow cone? What's a snow cone?"
After Ciardis explained the treat, Terris burst out laughing and didn't stop for a full five minutes. Ciardis sat glaring at her, her legs crossed as she leaned back against a bunch of pillows. "It's a serious talent," she said stiffly.
"Uh huh," said Terris, still chuckling. "Do you see any snow around here?"
Ciardis rolled her eyes. "Maybe one of my prospective Patrons will be a Winter Lord or a Weather Mage. I am a Weathervane, after all."
“You know your abilities to enhance will extend beyond the capacity to increase weather-related magic,” Terris pointed out.
“I know,” said Ciardis, “But my ancestor’s book makes the ability to enhance weather sound pretty awesome.”
Terris sighed and said, "I also hoped to have a patron who hailed from my homeland in the Summer Isles, but most of the Patrons come from these or nearby lands. Now, time to get down to business. Who's that cute guy down the hall?"
At this, Ciardis burst out laughing herself. "Terris? You have a crush on him, don't you? I knew it!"
"Maybe," said Terris with a little giggle as she twisted some of her braids around a finger, "He's so cute! I can't help it. Blond hair, blue eyes, tight physique."
Ciardis shook her head. "What a pair you two would make, with your dark skin and his fair skin."
Terris grinned. "You know it!”