The Heartwood Chronicles

Dinner that night was a subdued affair. A scanty contingent of Masters sat at the head table. Both Master Zoya and the Headmaster were missing. Rumor had it that they were in talks with the Torou staff. The wilder speculation was that said talks were actually duels. Amber rejected that notion entirely.

Some of the students who had been involved in scuffles that day were back, surrounded by peers eager for details. They were all fine; Flavius was the only one still in the infirmary. Kael reported that the boy was in magically-induced sleep and stable for now.

Troi had not reappeared.

“Imperators, that’s serious business.” Lisette stabbed her fork into a piece of chicken. “I don’t know how we’d do, going up against them.”

Kael nodded. “We’d have to give it our best shot, if they come for Troi.”

“Hold on, you two!” Amber shot them both a glare. “You really don’t think you’re going to spark off some kind of war with the elite forces of Kaidan, are you? Imperators are an internal matter. You could get Heartwood—maybe the whole township of Carradia—into serious hot water if you go picking a fight with them.”

“Yeah, we’d better let the Masters handle them,” said Lisette.

“Masters Zoya and Cinbar could probably take them on just fine.” Kael dug his spoon into his pudding and looked entirely too happy about the prospect.

“Kael.” Amber was having a hard time not rolling her eyes dramatically, Naia-style. “I’m sure they’ll look for a diplomatic solution first. And if they can’t find one—well, are they really going to put the entire school in jeopardy for one student?”

Both Kael and Lisette looked at her as if she’d grown two heads.

“What?” asked Amber, irritated. Sometimes Heartwood students acted as if they were the sane ones.

“If Heartwood doesn’t stand up for one of its own when it gets tough, then why are we all even here?” Lisette gestured around the room. “Look at us. We’re outcasts, misfits, orphans. We’re here because there’s no place for us in our own families, our own villages.” Her eyes were bright and her voice fierce. Kael put a hand on her arm. “No other magic school would take us, and any other place would only use and abuse us. Open your eyes, Amber.”

Lisette got up, blinking furiously. “Bathroom,” she announced. She hurried away, knocking against benches as she did so.

Amber turned to Kael and demanded, “What was that all about?”

“Bad memories.” Kael shrugged. “Sorry, Amber, it’s not my place to share Lisette’s story.”

“How about your own then?” Amber asked. “Are you one of those, then—an outcast or an orphan?”

“Eh.” Kael stretched and stood up. “You could say so, but it’s a matter of attitude, too, isn’t it? I don’t really see myself as either. Want me to get you some dessert? Chocolate cake okay?” Without waiting for an answer, he sauntered away to a sideboard groaning under a cornucopia of sweet foods.

He completely ducked my question! Now that Amber thought about it, she knew next to nothing about anyone’s past.

A door at the end of the hall opened, and Master Zoya swept in. In an instant, all eyes were on her. Conversation died immediately.

Master Zoya stood in front of the head table. Her face was tight, and her expression could only be described as fed-up.

You could’ve heard an ant crawling about in the silence that fell over the hall.

“If I can have your attention,” began Master Zoya unnecessarily. “No doubt everyone is aware of the altercations that have taken place between Heartwood and Torou students today. Those have now come to end. The staff of both schools are taking these incidents very seriously, and rest assured, appropriate punishment will be meted out. No one, and I repeat no one is to take matters into his or her own hands. Is that understood?”

Her gaze raked the room.

“Furthermore,” went on Master Zoya in that tight, brittle way, “I want everyone here to remember that we are guests in Carradia. Brawls between schools is distressing to the townspeople. When mages fight, ordinary people suffer. Don’t forget how much stronger you all are.”

Amber glanced around the room, uneasy. Every single mage here was stuffed full of magic. Their suns were strong and glowing. Even though they wore sober expressions, did they really understand how fragile normal people were?

And I’ve forgotten this as well, living among them, going off on hare-brained schemes. Amber shivered. Pattern mage or not, she wouldn’t survive a fall off a building the way a sun mage would. Her defensive magic required intentional spellwork, unlike the way a sun mage’s magic naturally protected his body.

Master Zoya exhaled. “Perhaps we have not made enough allowances for the competitive nature of you young mages.” Her expression became even more wooden. “The Principal of Torou has proposed—and the Headmaster has accepted—a friendly tournament between our two schools.”

What? Amber blinked. A surprised buzzing broke out in the hall.

Kael slipped into place next to Amber, sliding a plate loaded with chocolatey goodness in front of her. “She doesn’t look too happy about this, does she?” he said. “Eat up.”

“Why?” Amber whispered back. “Why’d the Masters agree to this hare-brained scheme?”

“To keep the peace, most likely. Torou Academy’s run by the Kaidan government—this could turn into a nasty international incident if it’s not defused. If Torou’s making a peace offering, best not to slap them in the face with it.”

Kael the diplomat? This was new. Amber was so busy being half-impressed that she missed Master Zoya naming the time and place of the tournament and most of the list of Heartwood participants.

“And the top division will be our journeyman mages against the Kaidan Whispering Winds,” Master Zoya went on. “Representing Heartwood are Kael, Lisette, and Troi.” Kael, busy stuffing his face, gave a quick wave of cheerful acknowledgment. Amber turned around and saw that both Lisette and Troi stood at the back of the hall, flanking the door. They wore identical expressions of grim determination.

Master Zoya’s gaze searched the room, found Amber. “And rounding out the team, for support, Amber.”

Amber jumped and squeaked. “Me?”

Kael turned to her with a grin. “Lucky break for you, Amber!”

Amber could only stare at Master Zoya. Has she lost her mind?

 

Zoya and Cinbar’s older son, the cheeky twelve-year-old Amber had first met in the breakfast hall, opened the door to her later that night. “Oh, it’s Amber. Here for some intensive weapons training? You’ll need it.”

Tai meant no harm—there was no malice in those laughing blue eyes—but Amber could’ve cheerfully throttled the kid. And she liked him even—he’d certainly livened up the Magical Ethics seminar Amber had taken with Mistress Blunkett. Apparently, he was the youngest student to take the class; given what she’d heard of his antics, he certainly needed it.

“Tai, are you being rude to your mother’s guest?” Master Cinbar emerged so suddenly and quietly from the gloom that both his son and his pupil jumped.

“Amber knows I’m only funning, Father,” said Tai. “Don’t you, Amber? You’re so lucky, though. Wish I was going, too.”

“Pass your Magical Ethics class first, and then we might consider you,” said his father. He tousled the youngster’s hair. “Now go to bed. It’s late.”

Master Cinbar nodded at Amber. “Zoya’s in her study. Down the hall, take a left. It’s the door to the right.”

“Ah, thank you. Good evening, Master Cinbar, Tai.” Amber followed Master Cinbar’s directions, apprehension digging a pit in her stomach. It was never pleasant to be called in by a teacher after school, especially to her house at night. What in the world could Master Zoya want that couldn’t wait until the morning?

Maybe she wants to tell me that my being in the tournament was all a mistake. Cheered by the thought, Amber tapped carefully on the wooden frame of the sliding door and entered at Master Zoya’s quiet command.

Master Zoya’s study didn’t match Amber’s expectations. For one, the room was almost entirely empty of books—and indeed much else. There was little furniture—a low table, a small writing desk, one chair, each piece carved with an elegant simplicity. A few pictures hung on the walls, painted in delicate brush strokes. Tatami mats covered the floor, and a faint scent of tea hung in the air.

But what really caught Amber’s attention was how exquisitely the pattern was balanced within the room. Spells hummed at the very edge of her hearing, buried so deep that Amber couldn’t make out what they were for. From the way the pattern spread out from them, a few objects were clearly foci: a chunk of quartz, a lantern, a set of wind chimes.

Master Zoya herself sat behind the low table, set with teapot and cups.

Amber realized she’d been staring unabashedly and stammered out a greeting.

A twinkle danced in Master Zoya’s eyes, but her face was grave enough. “Please sit, Amber.” She indicated a sage floor cushion.

Awkwardly, Amber removed her sandals and padded over to sit carefully on the cushion. This put her at eye level with Mater Zoya, not the most comfortable of positions. Even her quick survey of the room had shown her, once again, the controlled power that lay within the woman.

Master Zoya poured tea, dark amber liquid steaming in the handle-less cups. She was dressed informally, in what was obviously a house robe, her hair loosely put up and held in place by a single hair stick, its handle shaped like a dragon.

Amber barely breathed, afraid to break the silence. Master Zoya took a sip of her own tea and closed her eyes, as if savoring the beverage. Amber followed suit with a cautious sip. The tea was more bitter than she liked, but there was no way she was going to ask for milk and sugar.

Master Zoya said, “I expect you have questions.”

For a moment, Amber’s mind went blank. Then, “Why did Torou Academy propose a tournament, of all things?”

“Ah.” Master Zoya placed the cup on the table, her fingers still curled around it. “Because it suits their principal’s purposes. What those are, I couldn’t tell you. Shai Daan always did hold his secrets close.”

“You don’t think it’s just to make peace, then?”

“I do not.” Master Zoya’s gaze was turned inward. “I expect it has to do with the suggested location—the Shattered Valley. Do you know of it?”

Amber shook her head.

“It’s north of Carradia, in the mountains. Serepentina claimed it a long time ago and only holds it because no one had bothered to challenge it. The Valley is”—here Zoya paused—“an odd place. It is certainly not a place for farming nor mining nor anything much else.”

“Magic, though?” Amber leaned forward.

“No more, no less than any other place on the coast.” Master Zoya’s smile was wry. “We have explored it several time. But perhaps we don’t have the right kind of sight.”

Now Amber understood her role.

“That’s right,” said Master Zoya. “I’m sending you there to watch, not fight. See what the rest of us haven’t been able to. Keep an eye on Torou’s movements. Shai Daan is up to something. I don’t need to be a mind reader to be certain of that.” Something dark flickered over her, the atmosphere in the room tightened. Did Amber catch a glimpse of her suns, dense as thousand-year-old shadows, smooth as obsidian? She couldn’t be sure.

To her surprise, Amber found herself nodding. “All right. I’ll do it.”

Master Zoya favored her with a small smile. “Thank you. I know we’re asking a lot out of you, especially since you just joined. I’m afraid I’m not the only Master who requests a favor from you tonight.”

Amber tilted her head inquiringly.

“Master Kristoff would like your assistance in the infirmary.”

“He’s back?” All those other questions bubbled up inside Amber. Finally!

“Yes, but his patient needs all his attention—and yours.”

“Flavius.” Anxiety knotted in her stomach.

“If you could do anything for him,” said Zoya gently, “we would be most grateful.” She bowed her head, the gesture humbler than Doua’s empty obeisance.

How could she say no to this woman who expected such goodness from her? “I don’t really know what use I’ll be,” said Amber frankly, “but I’ll try.”

 

Three hours later, as Amber stumbled yawning and bleary-eyed through darkened corridors in the main Academy building, she nearly tripped over Kael’s legs.

“What the–?” She peered at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” He rose to his feet and fell into step beside her. “How’s Flavius?” They reached an unlocked side door and Kael pushed it open. Gravel crunched under their feet as they crossed the courtyard in the dim white light of crystal lamps.

“Well.” Amber thought a minute. “He’s back to his human self, at least, for now. He’s no more unstable than normal.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples and grimaced. She was looking forward to a soothing cup of tea, a warm-pack on her aching head, and a long sleep.

“Hmm.” Kael glanced at her. “It really does bother you, doesn’t it? Humans transforming. People having abilities far out of normal experience.’

Amber twitched her shoulders. “I’m not going to let my personal feelings get in the way of Flavius’s treatment, if that’s what you mean. I just think it’s wrong to enable his curse—or magic, or whatever you want to call it. Do you really think this changing from one form to another is healthy for either his body, his soul, or his mind? The more in flux he is, the less chance he has to just be himself.”

Kael put his hands in his pockets and stared up at the sky. The girls’ dormitory loomed above them, all its windows dark. “You may be right.”

“I know I am. I’ve seen his pattern.” Amber fumbled for her key.

“You’d call them monsters.”

“What?”

“My family. You asked me about them earlier.” Kael didn’t look at her. “I was raised by one of the native races of this continent. They aren’t humans.” A ghost of a smile flickered on his face. “They’ve been called demons before. Still are.”

Amber stared at him.

“Good night, Amber.” He sauntered away and was soon swallowed up by darkness.

Author’s Note: We are heading into the Final Act of this arc (at long last!). I have no idea how many more episodes are left, but I hope they’ll be action-packed and suspenseful. How do you like this arc so far? Feedback is super-helpful for when I edit and release the first three arcs in e-book format. 🙂

Amber couldn’t breathe.

The world had gone all shadowy, the sun a distant smudge in a greying sky. Cold crept over her body; tiny flakes of snow fell onto the sand. She struggled to pull in air, but it all seemed to have gone elsewhere.

The pattern, too, greyed, fast losing vitality. It crumbled to pieces, drifting down like ash. On the ground at her feet, the Torou boy shivered and gulped for breath.

She could barely hear him, the sound tiny in this suddenly strange world. The sea prowled the edges of it like a restless beast. If only she could reach it, if only she could gather up its magic!

A figure stepped onto the beach. A boy, thought Amber as her vision wavered. How is he doing this? The deepest stillness was wrapped around him like a dark cloak. How is he surviving this?

A flare of energy surged across the sand. It flooded Amber with light and warmth; she gasped, found she could breathe again. The greyness vanished, the frost evaporated. The sound of the sea crashed against her ears.

Kael.

The sun mage faced the newcomer, every muscle tensed, poised to attack.

The other shorter boy said, “Oops.” A sheepish expression crossed his face. He raised his hands in a placating manner. “My control over that spell isn’t very good, I’m afraid.”

Amber stared. He had nearly killed everyone on this beach, and that’s all he had to say? Troi made a sharp movement, then restrained himself. He had gone a greyish white, and his wounds were stark against the paleness.

“Get good,” said Kael, “before you use it again.” His face was the sternest Amber had ever seen it.

“Quite so,” said the boy mildly. Like his magic, he was odd. His features were distinctly Kaidan, but his complexion darker, like milky coffee. His hair was light and curly. He wore a grey open-fronted tunic, belted at the waist, sleeves rolled up to his elbows; wide-legged trousers; and sandals. “But you know, I can’t have you further damaging these students.”

He indicated the prone or gently moaning air ninjas. Seven Torou Academy students, all worse for the wear.

One of them raised his head out of the sand and snarled at the newcomer, “Stay out of this, ksai.” Amber didn’t know what it meant, but it sounded particularly nasty. Troi knelt and looked at the younger boy in the eye. “You’re not any better, kid.”

“And you are a blot on the family name,” hissed the air ninja in the sand. Amber was sure this was the Torou student who’d called her a trophy girlfriend. She decided she didn’t like him at all. “How dare you prance around with our family heirlooms?”

“Because Grandfather willed them to me, coz. You jealous?” Troi raised an eyebrow. “I’m happy to duel you for them. In about a month, when you can hobble about again.”

The other boy drew in a breath to retort.

Amber whipped around. She felt another presence coming—strong suns, air magic, but distinctly feminine.

A Kaidan girl landed on the beach in a flurry of winds, her clothes and hair fluttering artistically. Amber’s hair blew into her mouth. Yuck.

“Pod!” she scolded the part-Kaidan boy. “Don’t go charging off and throwing around weird spells on your own. And you, Shou.” She glared at the unlikeable boy still lying in the sand. “You’ve already made a mess of things. Let your elders deal with it now.” Apparently, she had plenty of ire to spread around—or else, she just liked scolding people indiscriminately.

Troi got to his feet. Annoyance flickered over his face. “Naia. What are you doing here?”

Kael’s eyes widened at the name. Amber noticed how carefully he stepped out of the picture and came to stand next to her.

“What’s going on?” Amber whispered.

“Just watch,” Kael whispered back.

The girl put one hand on her hip and raised her eyebrows. She was not exactly beautiful, but there was something striking about her all the same, with those high, broad cheekbones, dark long-lashed eyes, full lips, and curvy figure. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s time for you to stop playing around, Troi, and come back home.”

“Did you instigate all this, Naia?” Troi gestured at the beaten air ninjas. “Roughing up Heartwood students to lure me into the open?”

“Oh, please, Troi. When do I need to skulk around you? No, Shou did this all on his own.”

Shou spat blood-stained sand out of his mouth. “This is an Irekai matter. Kentai needs to stay out of this.”

Amber’s eyes widened. Even she had heard of the Irekai family of Kaidan. I had no idea Troi was a member of a First Family.

“Unfortunately, Kentai is very much part of all this,” said Naia with a sigh. “What this dolt does reflects on us, too. After all, I am engaged to the idiot.” She gestured towards Troi, in case there was any doubt as to which idiot she referred to.

Whaaaat? Amber mouthed the word at Kael. He shrugged.

This was becoming more and more like a melodrama.

“A promise made between our families when we were just children.” Troi bit out the words.

“And binding on us as members of First Families,” Naia shot back. “Great Sea, Troi, are you seriously renouncing your name? In front of all these witnesses?” She swept her arm to indicate the whole beach, as if cliffs and curious seagulls were as much witnesses as the dozen or so people. “You know what will happen if you do that.”

Troi’s eyes narrowed. “Are you here to threaten me, Naia?”

“I’m attempting to talk some sense into you.” The girl sighed again, put her hands on her hips, and looked up at the sky as if asking for heavenly guidance. “As is my duty.”

Amber tilted her head towards Kael and whispered, “She sure is—dramatic.” She could see how the usually cool, collected Troi would have a personality clash with the flamboyant Naia. Even her gestures were flashy, and her clothes, though practical for an air ninja, were brightly colored and decorated.

“We should stay out of this, Amber,” Kael whispered back.

“Agreed.” Even that powerful mage, Pod—and what was that magic?—and the other Torou Academy boys were staying quiet and still, like good little mice, stares flickering between Naia and Troi. Shou, now ignored, scowled.

“You have no duty towards me, Naia,” Troi said. “Like Shou said, this is an Irekai matter. Go home and find someone else to fix.”

Naia rolled her eyes. “I wish I could go home. But I figured I owed your family this favor. Because, you see, if I hadn’t come, then the Imperators would have. This is your last chance, Troi.”

Troi’s fists clenched, then slowly, deliberately relaxed. “They would’ve gone that far.”

“Will go that far, if I don’t return to Kaidan with you.” Naia spread out her hands. “So, which is it to be? Remember that your decision affects more people than just you.”

“Ah, I see. You’re worried about your own reputation being sullied. I knew this would come back to Kentai honor above all else for you, Naia.”

Naia raised an eyebrow. “Kentai honor is not such a fragile thing, Troi. I was thinking about your mother and sisters. Your school here and your friends. Do you really intend to drag them into this?”

Troi was silent for a long time. Then, “No. I do not.”

Amber stifled a gasp. Naia’s shoulders visibly relaxed. Kael’s expression didn’t change.

“Then you’ll come back with me,” said Naia.

“No.”

Naia jerked her head up. She gave Troi a startled look, then shook her head. “You fool. All this because you’re in a rebellious phase.” Her brows drew together. “Do you honestly think you’re the only youth to chafe under authority? We’ve all been there, you know, at some point or another. But at least the rest of us are willing to compromise, instead of burning all the bridges that connect us to our families and our histories.”

“Naia,” said Troi with scathing patience, “spare me the bit-part lines from a second-rate drama. You have no idea what you’re talking about, and you don’t know what’s happened between me and Irekai.”

“If this is about your grandfather…” Naia began.

Troi’s hand flashed to his sword. Anger blazed in his eyes. For one wild moment, he looked like he was about to sweep Naia’s head off her shoulders with his blade.

To her credit, Naia faced him unflinchingly. The air around her and Troi stirred ominously, currents prowling between the two.

“Don’t even go there,” Troi growled.

“You can’t keep hiding from the truth forever, Troi.” Amber admired Naia’s nerve, but the girl really didn’t know when to shut up.

“My lady, my lord,” Pod broke in mildly. Everyone turned to him, Naia stormy, Troi cold, the rest relieved. Amber didn’t know how he dared to interrupt but was glad someone had broken the atmosphere of impending violence around Troi and Naia. “This may not be the best time and place to settle a private matter. Perhaps we should deal with what’s before us for the moment.”

Troi’s brows snapped together as he surveyed Pod. Then realization crept into his eyes. To Amber’s surprise, he bent his head in a quick gesture of agreement and respect.

“I’m done here,” he told Naia. “You want to help? Get these”—he gestured at the Torou boys—“off the beach and back to the Island.”

Troi stalked away, hand on the hilt of his sword, winds eddying about him like a tattered cloak. “Come on, Kael, Amber. Let Naia take care of the trash. I wouldn’t want her to have come all the way here and not have a chance to be useful.”

Naia just rolled her eyes again.

 

Another surprise awaited the trio when they arrived at Heartwood, Troi working off his emotions with a savage pace and Kael and Amber straggling behind.

Actually, Amber admitted to herself, I’m straggling. Kael’s only keeping me company.

Several Torou Academy boys were lined up in the courtyard, facing Heartwood’s main entrance. Amber recognized the three who had attacked Flavius, the injured boy held up by his friends. All of them looked worse for the wear. Lisette stood in front of the doors, arms folded and expression fierce, ready to guard the school all by herself.

The Torou boys were accompanied by a tiny figure. A child? Amber wondered.

But no, it was a girl about Amber and Lisette’s own age, dressed in the same sort of drab clothing Pod had worn. On her, though, they matched her austere beauty. Fully Kaidan, the girl had delicate features, lustrous hair, and soft, dark eyes. In addition, she wore tall wooden sandals and a straw hat with a grey chin-strap. Her sleeves were long and wide, and she bowed deeply with her hands tucked into them.

“We deeply regret,” she was saying as Amber and the boys came within earshot, “what these unworthy boys have done. Please forgive the trouble they have caused. They are young and too much indulged.” Everything about her was correct, from the depth of her bow to the politeness of her diction.

The boys in question didn’t look at all sorry. Most of them wore expressions varying from sullenness to hostility.

The girl straightened, stepped aside, and spoke to them, “Tender your most abject apologies, younglings.”

One of them began, in a whine, “Why do we have to…?”

A flash of magic, a slash of air, quick and savage. The boy winced. Bleeding lines, in the shape of a Kaidan character, scored his cheek.

It had happened in an eyeblink. The pattern vibrated gently in the aftermath.

The girl hadn’t moved at all. Her hands still in her sleeves, her back still straight, she spoke once again, without varying her tone. “Apologize.”

A shiver ran down Amber’s back. Kael’s mouth was tight, Troi’s expression stony. Lisette’s hands had dropped; she stood poised as if to attack. “We don’t need coerced apologies.”

The Kaidan girl ignored her. She looked at the boys with eyes that showed no pity, no anger, nothing that could be called emotion.

The pattern around her was drawn tight, full of strands like fine wires. Wires that were metallic, delicate, almost invisible, and incredibly complex.

The Torou boys fidgeted, giving each other sidelong glances. The one with the bleeding cheek stood staring straight ahead, eyes bright and mouth bitter. Then he knelt, touched his head to the ground, and said, “I am eternally ashamed of what I have done. I throw myself on your mercy.” His voice was edged with acid.

Belatedly, the others followed suit, kneeling awkwardly, their voices a ragged chorus.

Looking sick, Lisette made an impatient gesture for them to get up. “All right, all right. I’m not the one you need to apologize to, but for my part, at least, all is forgiven. I can’t speak for the others, though.”

The Kaidan girl’s brows twitched, just a little. Was there the tiniest suggestion of a crease on her smooth brow? “You are not satisfied?”

She looked quite capable of requiring the Torou boys to flagellate themselves right in front of the school. Amber caught Lisette’s eye and mouthed an alarmed, Say it’s all right! at her.

“It’s all right,” said Lisette hastily. “Let the Masters decide what will happen next. There’s nothing you can do anymore. You may leave, with my acceptance of the apology.”

The girl bowed again, perfectly correct. “My deepest apologies for taking your time with such unworthy boys as these.” She turned to them. “Now you will return with me to Torou.” Her tone was still even, but Amber would’ve cheerfully walked into a lion’s den than go anywhere with that tiny Kaidan girl.

“Wait!” Lisette called out. “Who are you, if anyone should ask?”

“This humble mage is Doua of Haava.” Again the bow. “But I am not worthy for you to remember my name, my lady.” She waited, holding the obeisance.

“I’m not a—” Lisette stopped, uncharacteristically flustered. “Never mind. Please, do go on.” Her tone was just a little too eager. Amber well understood.

She also wanted the unnerving Kaidan girl as far away as possible.

The four Heartwood students watched Doua shepherd her charges, taking small, careful steps in her wooden shoes.

Kael spoke for all of them. “Scary! I think I prefer Naia.”

“I hate to say it, but I do, too,” said Troi. “That was one of the Whispering Winds—she and the boy down on the beach.”

“Who are the Whispering Winds?” asked Amber. “You mentioned them before.”

“They’re the elite youth of the various training academies. They’re the ones who’ll become Kaidan’s topmost battle mages—or undercover operators.” Noting Amber’s blank expression, Troi explained, “They’ll be Imperators.” He looked at Doua’s distant figure. “I don’t know what she and this Pod are doing at Torou, though. Neither of them went there.”

“Her control,” said Lisette, “is something I’ve never seen before. I had no idea anyone could shape air blades like that.”

Kael and Troi both looked solemn.

“She’d be hard to beat in a fight,” Lisette continued. “May the Protector ensure we don’t come to that.”

“But she apologized,” said Amber. “It should be all over, right?”

Kael and Lisette looked at Troi. Tiredly, he said, “It’s a face-saving gesture. Don’t read too much into it.” He brushed past Lisette on his way to the door and called over his shoulder, “I’m going to see the Headmaster now. Don’t come find me for a while.” The events of the day seemed to suddenly weigh heavily on him.

Amber, remembering what Naia had said about Imperators, felt a shadow fall over her. What’s he going to do? she wondered.

Author’s Note: Three new characters this time! Fun fact: Naia was the only new character introduced in the first draft of this. I added Pod and Doua because I wanted to show off more specialized air ninja skills. All three are fun to write, so expect more of them. I hope you enjoyed this episode!

It was Restday, and Amber was on her way home from chapel. Carradia boasted a large number of them, each worshipping a different Aspect of the One. Amber, like most Ravinians, had grown up worshipping the Sustainer, but the more she experienced the mainland, the more interested she was in the other Aspects.

The Chapel of the Sage was on the outskirts of Carradia, near the sea, and Amber, after being cooped up on the school grounds for far too long, took the opportunity to meander along a narrow path on the cliffs. Below hair, waves dissolves to foam on a ribbon of sandy beach. Seabirds arrowed through the sky, riding currents.

Amber let her magical senses skitter out, first one direction, then another, observing a tangle of plant roots here, the heaving of the sea there. Patterns danced and shone, and she was pleasantly surprised at how little effort it took to see them. The hours she’d spent training with Master Cinbar and laboring over the exercises Master Kristoff had left in his spiky scrawl were paying off. She was better able to filter information, able to step back from the complexity of pattern and the attraction of nodes, keep her senses on low alert all the time. For example, there were baby birds in a nest on that ledge, and a boat out at sea, and some people past the curve ahead—

Suns, sullen and red, intent on malice. They gathered around someone else, someone whose nodes flickered alarmingly, whose pattern pulsed in a way both strange and familiar. Jagged splinters drove into Amber’s head. She gasped and stopped, fingers pressed into her temples.

Sobbing words came to her snatches. “… please… no… leave me alone….”

Mocking laughter. “Deadwood scum.” “Weakling.” “Let’s see what they teach you at that low-brow school of yours.”

Torou Academy boys! And it sounded like they’d cornered a Heartwood student. Not just any student, but that unstable boy, the one she could not bring herself to like. Flavius.

For one second, Amber stood rooted to the path, on the brink of turning around. Excuses flashed through her head. I’m no hero… I’d be better off getting help rather than getting involved… I just don’t want to…

And then Flavius squealed and his pattern started to change. It tore, nodes swimming in a sea of flapping strands. Amber had never seen anything like that. She bolted down the path, took the curve in a scatter of stones.

A voice, high with incredulity. “What in Chaos…?”

Another, “This freak. He’s changing. Hold him down, quick.”

Amber stumbled down a small slope into a hollow, pebbles skittering under her sandals. Two Torou boys held Flavius down. The Heartwood boy’s clothes were torn, and he sported a black eye and a split lip. He writhed in his captors’ hold, muscles moving with an inhuman fluidity. A low growl emanated from his throat.

“You demonspawn,” cursed the third Torou boy, aiming a kick at Flavius’ head.

“No, don’t!” Amber called.

Flavius moved, so fast that he was just a blur. He threw the two Torou boys off him and fastened too-large jaws and saliva-drenched teeth around his attacker’s ankle.

The air ninja howled as he went down.

Flavius growled and shook the boy’s leg savagely. His back was hunched and heavily muscled. Too-large eyes rolled in a blotched and distorted face.

Amber stopped, horrified. Flavius’s pattern changed and reformed at a rate she’d never seen before. Transformation? That was the magic of evil magicians in folk tales and popular novels. She’d never thought that it was possible.

Like a beast, Flavius worried at the Torou boy’s foot. The other boys tried to drag him off, but Flavius wouldn’t let go. Lashes of air magic cut him, but he shook them off as if they were nothing. His face and back were covered in bleeding red lines.

Amber reached into the maelstrom of Flavius’ pattern—ouch, it hurt!—and pinched… hard. In his state of flux, it was easy to slip in—he seemed to have lost all control of his body. The pattern rippled grotesquely, and Amber’s stomach heaved in response.

Flavius snarled and dropped the boy’s leg.

Amber motioned vigorously at the three boys. “Get out of here.”

Flavius’s head turned toward her. There was no humanity, no intelligence in those eyes. He shuffled on his hands and feet, both of which melted into limbs that belonged to no animal Amber had ever seen.

He lunged, and Amber grabbed fistfuls of his pattern, gasping as if she’d just plunged her hands in acid.

The Torou boys stared at her, panting and white-faced. The boy on the ground let out a moan of pain.

“Well?” she yelped. “Quit standing around and get out of here.” They hauled the injured boy up between them and scrambled away. “Get help!” She yelled after them.

It was all she could do to hold Flavius in place. His pattern was slippery in her hands and he fought her hold fiercely. Amber could neither run away, nor could she beat him. All that was left was this awful stalemate.

Stupid, stupid! Amber berated herself. How in the world do you expect to get out of here, you two-coppa witch? Everything ached with the effort of keeping Flavius away from her. His panting breath was hot and heavy, and his drool smoked as it hit the ground. He strained against her magical hold, his pattern flashing with bloodlust.

And worse, it was hardening. His transformation was nearly complete; soon Amber would be thrown out of his fluid pattern entirely. She’d not be able to hold him then.

Can I disable him before then? Do I have the power?

Do I have it in me to kill him if it comes to that? Not that it would be easy. She didn’t have the massive amount of energy it would take to overwhelm a pattern and kill a person. Even though the sea was right there….

… If I can only channel…

Flavius took one slow step toward her, then another, moving as if in a bog. Sweat plastered Amber’s hair to the back of her neck and soaked her shirt. She squeezed her eyes shut, so as not to see that hideous face or those large teeth lunging for her neck, but she couldn’t shut out that all-wrong pattern pushing its way toward her.

I knew I shouldn’t have tried to be the hero.

And then she felt the electric brush of a powerful and familiar magic. Her eyelids flew open.

Kael bounded toward Flavius, calling over his shoulder, “Keep a hold of him, Amber!”

“I’m trying,” she said through clenched teeth. Flavius twisted, shot out of her grasp. Before she could shout a warning, Kael punched him. Twice. Hard.

Flavius dropped like a rock.

Kael knelt beside the deformed body. “Poor kid.”

Amber’s knees felt like jelly. She flopped ungracefully to the ground. “Just… what is he?”

Kael’s gaze flicked towards her, expression unreadable, before dropping back down to Flavius, whose pattern was already starting to reform. “Just a kid with a difficult kind of magic.”

“What kind of magic turns a person into a monster?” Amber demanded. “I’ve never heard of anything like that. It shouldn’t be possible.”

Again that golden-eyed flick, not cold like Troi’s or disapproving like Lisette’s, but uncomfortable nonetheless. “It’s the continent,” Kael pointed out. “Magic is different here.” He leaned over Flavius, rubbing the once-hands. His energy flowed over and into Flavius’ pattern, warm and strong, like concentrated sunshine.  “Give me a hand here, Amber. You can see where his pattern’s gone wrong.”

“His pattern’s always been wrong,” said Amber bluntly. She limped over and stood behind Kael’s shoulder. The throbbing in Flavius’ pattern intensified her headache. “I’m not sure if I can do anything to help him. This is beyond my skill level.”

“Can you at least calm him down? His heartbeat’s erratic, so’s his breathing. Come on, Amber. Don’t just give up.”

Amber reached back into Flavius’ pattern, flinched as his magic burned her like a spray of acid. “It hurts.”

Kael took her hand in his. “Let me give you some—”

She pulled away, violently. “I told you—I can’t do it. Take him back to Heartwood and let someone in the infirmary look at him.” Flavius’ face was a melding of boy and beast. She retreated from the pair. “How’d this happen to him, anyway?”

“Born with it.”

Amber shivered. “What a horrible curse. Does this sort of thing happen here a lot?”

She felt, rather than saw, his shrug. “More than in the islands, at any rate. Does it bother you that much?”

“To see a human being turned into a beast like that? Of course it bothers me!”

“Is that what you see him as? A beast?” Kael lifted the unconscious boy into his arms and got to his feet.

“It’s not right. I pity him.”

“Sounds more like you’re revolted by him,” Kael commented, still in that calm, even tone.

“You may be used to this kind of thing, but I’m not,” said Amber stiffly. “There are some lines that just shouldn’t be blurred.”

“I see.” Again that quick golden glance. “All right, time for us to get back to Heartwood.”

 

Amber hung back as she followed Kael, watching her footing on the narrow, stony path.

A graceful swoop in the sky, and Lisette glided down to the ground and ran toward them. Her wings snapped shut behind her. “You found him, Kael!”

“Amber found him first.”

“Oh, Maker. Just look at him.” Lisette ground her teeth. “Did those Torou bastards do this?” She smacked her fist into the palm of her hand.

Kael didn’t reply, so Amber said, “Yes. They were roughing him up and I think that triggered—this.” She gestured towards the boy’s limp body.

“I’ll take him back.” Lisette laid a gentle hand on Flavius’ forehead. Amber had never seen the acerbic mage so sisterly and concerned. “Kael, you’d better see about backing up Troi. He’s gone to confront the Torou band’s ringleaders—Flavius is not the only student who was targeted today. They got Vane and Alyssa, too.”

Kael relinquished his burden. “Yeah, I can feel him. Not bothering to shield himself, is he?”

Amber widened her sensory net, then winced. Troi’s suns were dark cyclones of frigid anger.

“Make sure he doesn’t kill anyone, will you?” Lisette leapt into the air. Amber watched her become a dark dot in the sky, then disappear from sight.

“I suppose I should head back to Heartwood, too,” Amber said.

“No, you stick with me for now. We let our guard down and too many of the younger ones got hurt.”

“How is me going into a fight with you and Troi going to keep me safe?” Amber wanted to know.

“If you really want to go back to Heartwood, feel free to. I just thought you’d want to see this thing through.”

“By beating up on Torou Academy students?” Amber shook her head. “That’s not my style, thanks.”

“Fair enough.”

Sun mages. Can’t understand why the rest of the normal world would prefer to stay out of their conflicts.

   “Troi’s really… piling it on, isn’t he?” Wind tugged her braid, lashed it into her face.

“Yeah, let’s go make sure the idiot doesn’t go too far.” Kael took Amber’s wrist and pulled her along behind him. They ran down a path on to the beach, rounded cliffs, and came out upon a spit of land that jutted out into the sea. Magic-powered winds twisted all around, shrouding the dark figures of the air ninjas, whipping the sea into white-capped waves. They howled in her ears, buffeted her body, snatched away her breath. Amber’s braid unraveled into a writhing mess of strands, but she was too occupied with holding her skirt down to deal with it.

The wind tousled Kael’s hair and clothes, but he was not having nearly as many issues as Amber was. If she squinted, she could see a slight shimmer around him, a subtle shifting of the pattern as the wind currents bent around him.

Three more air ninjas dropped out of the sky and joined the fray. Troi was at its center, surrounded by an armor of whirling winds, cold and dry.

“Troi!” Amber yelled, but Kael put an arm in front of her and shook his head.

The air ninjas had nothing against Troi in his cold rage. His magic lashed them in coiled whips, plucking them out of the air and dashing them to the ground. No matter how many times they staggered to their feet or tried to dodge, his winds were there, shredding their clothes, slapping their faces, driving them onto their knees.

Amber winced, smelling blood in the pattern. She put her hand on Kael’s wrist. “Kael, please,” she whispered. “This is getting out of hand.”

He nodded, strode forward. Amber’s pattern senses shatter against the vortex of Troi’s angry unreason and called after him, “Kael, be careful!”

An air ninja reeled into Kael; Kael caught and thrust the boy behind him, out of the range of Troi’s relentless attacks. The Torou boy almost fell into Amber’s arms; she lowered him to the ground and distractedly began ripping long strips of her underskirt for his bleeding head.

The winds shifted as Kael blasted a hot wide path through the one-sided slaughter. His energy, hot and golden as the sun, shielded the beaten Torou boys. He came to stand in front of the maelstrom that was Troi wrapped in his storm wind armor.

“Out of the way, Kael.” Troi’s voice was cold, weirdly amplified.

“You’ve made your point, Troi. Time to stop this.”

“I made my point before. The lesson didn’t stick. This time I want them to know I’m serious. Out of the way, Kael.”

Kael folded his arms, as calm and as relaxed as if he were picnicking on the beach. “Nope.”

Troi made an angry sound. Dark grey whips fell upon Kael. The sun mage took them calmly on an upraised hand. Amber felt Troi’s attack bite deep, but Kael didn’t even flinch.

His friend’s non-reaction maddened Troi even more. He went after the other sun mage with a barrage of vicious long-range attacks. Kael took them all, deflecting some, letting others fall on him, keeping them off the Torou boys. Amber saw how his shielding ripped and tore, and she struggled to bunch the pattern into hardness around him. It was hard, with so much wind slipping out of control.

“You’ll have to do better than that, Troi,” called Kael with a laugh in his voice. “Come at me, then.” He gestured with his hands, a cocky bring-it-on beckoning of his hands.

Amber gasped as the magic around Troi shifted. His armor of wind became a weapon, a sledge hammer of energy that bore down upon Kael.

The idiot didn’t even try to dodge it. He took the impact, staggered, nearly dropped to his knees. He grinned at Troi, who’d dropped to the sand. “Now that’s more like it.”

“You fool,” said Troi, tiredly. The cold mask of his face had given way to something more akin to grief. He took a few steps, and Amber saw that he had not gotten off lightly, either. His shirt was in tatters, and small cuts covered his feet, hands, and face. He took a few steps, sagged.

Kael reached out, caught his shoulder, and shook him roughly. “Get a hold of yourself, Troi.”

“I got it.” Troi shoved Kael away.

Amber thought it was time to step in before this devolved into a scuffling match. Thankfully, the winds had lessened. She stepped forward, opening her mouth.

And then, suddenly, quietly, unnaturally, everything went still.

Author’s Note: Congrats for making it this far! This was a long episode and it looks like Heartwood is in an all-out war with Torou. Poor Flavius. I’ve been hinting all this while that continental magic is wild and weird, and I used him to show it. Amber doesn’t know what to make of it… it’s going to take her time to get used to what magic can look like here.

As always, I love feedback!

One didn’t expect the Headmaster of a magical academy to be puttering around in the greenhouse, wearing overalls and boots, but there he was anyway, hands full of potting soil. The air was redolent with the scent of earth and green growing things. Amber thought she could almost hear the plants whisper contentedly together on the shelves and tables.

The Headmaster looked up, his heavy-lidded eyes as sleepy as ever. “Ah, Amber, come in.” He didn’t seem at all surprised to see her hovering nervously in the doorway.

Amber obeyed, bracing herself. The Headmaster did have the power to expel her for her part in the escapade. It was even in the contract she’d signed, in a clause about penalties for criminal activities.

“What can I do for you?” The Headmaster laid aside a spade and wiped his hands on a grubby towel.

It was unnerving to have his total attention. His eyes, she thought, were the deepest black she’d ever seen. Something seemed to flicker in their depths, but she had no idea what. A strange sensation crept over her. The pattern was thick and multi-layered around him, opaque to her senses. She itched to get her hands into it, tease it apart, to uncover what lay underneath.

Flushing, Amber realized several seconds had passed. She forced her mind back to the matter at hand.

“Um… about last night…” began Amber.

He waited. Amber was sure the gleam lurking in his eyes was one of knowing amusement, but he wasn’t planning on helping her out.

“I wanted to say… I was with Kael and Troi…” Amber swallowed and finished in a rush, “If there’s any trouble over it, I take full responsibility for my part in it.”

The Headmaster surveyed her for what seemed like an eternity. Mountains might rise and fall in those fathomless eyes of his. Amber tried not to fidget. The thought popped into her head that she didn’t even know his name. Everyone always referred to him as the Headmaster.

Somehow, she doubted now was the right time to ask.

“It was easy to guess, of course, how Kael and Troi located the sword in the first place,” he said finally. “Kael, especially, is known to be very… ah, persuasive, shall we say?”

“That’s true enough,” said Amber fervently. She didn’t quite understand how a rule-follower herself had come to break her contractual obligation of good behavior.

“Relations with Torou Academy,” continued the Headmaster, “have been difficult of late. It remains to be seen if this incident will break them entirely or clear the air.” He lifted a small pot and examined the seedling within. The plant itself was unprepossessing to Amber’s untrained eye, but there was a certain sharpness in the pattern within it.

“Do you know this plant?” asked Headmaster. Amber shook her head.

“It’s dragonsbane.” He placed it carefully on the table.

“Dragons!” squeaked Amber. Anything is possible on the continent!

The Headmaster smiled at her awe. “It’s not what you think, my dear. Dragons are part of an almost mythic past and best they should remain that way. But this little plant has properties that turn away the yuka as well. Dragonsbane is tricky to grow without magic, so we give as many as we can away to the farmers of Carradia.

“It also makes a good tea. I drink a cup of it every day.” He placed the pot back on the table. “We Masters will deal with the Torou situation, but I ask you to remain discreet and not publicize your role.”

“Um, of course.” Amber hesitated. Does this mean I’m not expelled?

The Headmaster cocked his head. “I think we can trust you to be circumspect.” Again, that hidden amusement. “Anything else I can do for you? Are you settling in at Heartwood all right?”

“Yes, I am.” Amber smiled brightly. Aside from sword training, which I suck at. But that’s only to be expected.

“Any trouble at all?” he persisted.

You mean, aside from strangely-twisting passages, memory moths, and Kael’s mad schemes? “None at all.”

Was it disappointment that flickered in his eyes? The Headmaster inclined his head. “Well, then, I won’t keep you, Amberlin.”

Feeling vaguely like she’d passed an examination with mixed results, Amber bobbed a half-curtsey and fled before he could change his mind.

 

Neither of Amber’s partners in crime were at dinner that night.

“Where’s Kael?” Amber asked Lisette as she sat down with her stack of plate, bowl, and utensils.

“Working,” said Lisette between mouthfuls of beef apple stew. The girl could really pack it in. “Masters figured he’d be better off gone from Carradia for a bit, I suppose.” She gave Amber a sideling glance. “Troi’s also gone, but I don’t ever hear you asking about our resident heart throb.”

“Kael’s easier to get along with.” Amber served herself stew, inhaling the savory-scented steam. “What are they doing?”

“Kael’s out in the wilderness somewhere.” Lisette waved a hand vaguely in what Amber guessed was wilderness-wards. “Troi’s on pretty-boy duty.”

“Pretty-boy duty?” Amber echoed.

“Guarding the governor of the Ravin colonies,” Lisette clarified, “on his tour of the independent townships.” She looked thoughtful. “I hear the governor’s daughter is very pretty, too. I hope she doesn’t fall in love with Troi. You’d think his awful personality would put everyone off, but some people do have a savior complex.” She made a face.

“You have that right,” muttered Amber. She scanned the head table where the Masters sat. Still no Master Kristoff. He’d left Heartwood for the Serepentine Isles the very day she’d arrived, leaving her no opportunity to ask how he knew her.

Master Zoya was also not in attendance. Amber’s gaze skipped over the rest of the masters, landed on the Headmaster. He still looked like some kind of artisan, sitting not in a place of prominence, but off to one side, nursing a mug and staring into its depths as if fascinated by what he saw in them.

She wondered if it was dragonsbane tea. It sounded like a dangerous sort of drink, but who knew with sun mages. She’d read about a Serepentine mage-king who’d powered his magic with poison. He’d been powerfully and feared—until the poison finally did him in.

“What’s the Headmaster’s name?” she asked Lisette.

“It’s—” Lisette began, then stopped, frowning.

“You don’t know it?” Amber raised her eyebrows. Curiouser and curiouser…

Lisette shook her head crossly. “Of course I do! It’s Flint. We just don’t call him that much, you know.”

Or at all. Despite Lisette’s confidence, Amber wasn’t convinced that the sun mage’s recollection was accurate.

A brief image—a book?—flashed through her mind. Amber shrugged; her mind made strange connections sometimes.

Lisette applied herself to her food again, and Amber turned to a knot of younger students nearby.

“So, where are you from?” Amber asked a younger boy, after Ainsley described, in much detail, a hilarious episode involving her brothers, a bear, and a keg of ale at last year’s Harvest Festival.

The boy, Flavius, started. He was a nervous, twitchy fellow, who spoke—when he did at all—in stutters and pauses and sentences that trailed off into nothingness. The misalignment in his pattern had engendered a kind of revulsion in Amber; so, to make up for it, she tried to be extra kind to him.

“I-I…” stammered Flavius, wide-eyed. His head turned from side to side, as if he were seeking escape.

The rest of the group stared at Amber in silent horror. Lisette kicked her in the shin.

Uh oh. Everyone here knows something I don’t.

“Hey, did you see old Marius’ outfit today?” Ainsley jumped in. “Do you think he chooses his clothes in the dark or does he actually think they look good on him?”

This led to a hearty denunciation of the eccentric Master’s wardrobe. Amber didn’t know who was more relieved at the change of subject—herself or Flavius, who subsided into a slumped heap. His lips moved as if he were talking to himself. Amber quested her senses out toward him; once again made contact with that fluxing pattern of thorns and snarls.

Lisette kicked her again. “Quit it. It’s rude to stare.”

“I’m trying not to, but—”

Lisette whispered furiously. “Look, I don’t know how it is in the islands, but here it’s considered rude to poke around in people’s background unless they volunteer the information. Not everyone has a happy little family in the past like you do.”

“I was trying to be friendly. But by all means, let’s make fun of a Master’s clothes instead.”

The two glared at each other.

“Look, most of us can handle your nosiness, no problem,” said Lisette. “But just leave Flavius alone. Yeah, he has his issues, but it’s not your place to handle them.” She swung her legs over the bench, and gathered her tray. “All right?” She cocked her head.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lisette thought Amber was nosy? All she’d done was try to draw out the kid a little—but fine. She’d gladly ignore him from now on out.

This is a whole new world, with its own social customs. Maybe I’d better listen more and talk less. It had been a long time since she’d felt so gauche—she’d been navigating her parents’ social circle since she was a little girl.

Amber pushed away her bowl, no longer hungry. She started to get up.

The pattern twisted suddenly around her.

Light flashed, so bright that Amber was momentarily blinded. She stumbled, gripped the edge of the table to keep her balance. Cries of surprise rose from the assembled students.

While Amber was still trying to clear stars from her vision, high-pitched wails ripped the air. She winced, clapped her hands over her ears. The wails broke off into a series of rude noises. These were accompanied by billows of grey smoke and a truly noxious odor.

She had to give it to the sun mages. Most of the Heartwood students were on their feet, weapons in hand and magic sparking around them.

Pity they had no one to direct their well-honed aggression towards. The masters at their table looked resigned. They, at any rate, had surrounded themselves with protective spells. The Headmaster still smiled into his mug.

A hollow voice boomed, “Take that, Deadwood scum!” A chorus of unseen voices broke out in a rude song about Heartwood Academy.

Water fell in sheets from the ceiling, salty and cold. Amber gasped as it struck her skin. She was soaked in seconds.

Expressions of dismay and disgust rose from the Heartwood students as they scrambled to get up their waterproof shields.

Not a single one of the masters, Amber noted, was wet.

She was already drenched to the skin. Amber looked wordlessly at Lisette, who was wrapped in a golden light. The water was deflected from her figure in strange angles.

The sun mage’s blue eyes sparked with lightning. She was audibly grinding her teeth. “And to think Kael and Troi are missing this very—lovely—gift from Torou.”

Amber caught Ainsley’s eye. Both of them grinned.

Ainsley leaned close to Amber and whispered. “Last time we had trouble with Torou, it got really bad. A ruined dinner is a small price to pay for peace if this is all the retaliation we get.”

Amber whispered back, “I hope so!”

Author’s Note: I’ve been doing a lot of yard work lately so it’s no wonder my brain placed the Headmaster in a greenhouse! He’s a mysterious guy for sure. But now we’re back to Torou. Maybe pulling off this prank will satisfy them…or maybe not!

Thanks to those who have donated to the keep the serial going. As always, I love feedback, so feel free to leave a comment.