by Marie Brown
Chapter 3: Ansha
Aurora had no idea how much time passed before someone shook her awake.
“Come on, Aurora, we've got to go now. Quickly.”
She scrambled to her feet, swaying, and noticed her Cluster was all present, plus an extra. “Who're you?” she asked the newcomer.
“Ansha. Now could we please get moving? They'll be after us in no time.”
The Cluster set out, following Marlan, with Ansha in tow. Aurora's head cleared as she walked. She was disgusted to notice the perfect square of footprints on the dusty floor. She'd known some of the maze was illusion, but she'd never even suspected the whole thing was contained in a single room.
As the lightest of the Cluster and the only one with a pillion pad, Aurora got to carry Ansha behind her on Stripe, in Meeplar's place. Meeplar perched instead on Larissa's saddlebags.
“Sorry, little fuzzling,” Ansha said, then smiled when Meeplar cheeped.
“You have mage-talent?” Aurora asked, as the horses, released from their binding spells, moved across the courtyard, now deserted except for the dead bodies they'd left behind.
“Some. Enough to see your familiar, anyway.”
“Wonderful. Not many people can see her, and she likes to be noticed.”
“She's a cute little thing. I can't blame her for liking attention. If I was that adorable, I'd want all eyes on me, too.”
Aurora laughed.
They returned to the village of Greentree at a rapid, magic-supported pace. Although tired, Aurora felt refreshed enough to boost the horses so they could run all the way back, making the return trip much faster than the approach.
They stopped once again at the common house, this time greeted by a few curious townsfolk who'd been having a meeting of the Knitting Club. Socks, mittens, and sweaters were put aside so the women (and one brave young man) could gather around the Cluster and gawk at the adventurers.
“We're back,” Kesh announced needlessly, dismounting with a groan. “Anyone feel like making us dinner?”
“You can come join us,” the village midwife announced promptly. “You lot did us a great service. No reason why we can't feed you a good meal in return.”
This touched off an impromptu squabble over who exactly would get to host the guests, resulting in a decision to throw together a quick celebratory dinner for the group at the common house. Keely, a childhood friend of Aurora's, sent off her little daughter to spread the word, and the Knitting Club dispersed. Soon excited villagers began gathering, holding pots, bowls, and plates of whatever they'd been making for dinner, with families in tow. The evening became a festive occasion, where Aurora and her Cluster told the story of the day's adventures over and over again, and the newcomer Ansha also told her tale repeatedly.
She'd been travelling the main road between Trade City and Caissa when someone attacked her with a spell. She'd fought the best she could, taken completely by surprise, but been utterly overwhelmed and knocked unconscious by a powerful spell she'd never encountered before. She woke up in a stone room, not knowing where she was, with another mage less powerful than she. Then Janx showed up and took the other mage, who didn't come back. Ansha had felt the unknown mage's death, though, and known she was next.
Fortunately for her, though, the Cluster came for her before the fallen mage could and she left with them, more than willing to ride to freedom on the back of a horse, who also happened to belong to someone going where she wanted to go. She talked to Aurora before the villagers left for their beds, and got her agreement to travel to Caissa with them.
“So what are you going to Caissa for, anyway, mystery mage?” Aurora asked, leaning back against a wall. None of the benches in the common house had backs. She'd solved that problem handily by shoving a bench to the wall and sitting on it, comfortably full, relaxed, and with a lap full of fuzzling.
“I wanted to travel,” Ansha shrugged, glancing away. “Caissa seemed a good goal. What about you? Obviously, you got sent here with your group, but why are you with them?”
“With who, my Cluster?” Aurora cocked her head, considering. “Or do you mean the Circle of Lights, in general? The Cluster's easy. I got assigned to them. Simple, easy, end of story. The Circle, now, they were the closest mage school to Vallan, where I was an apprentice baker. So that's where I got sent when Meeplar showed up.”
“What do you think of the Circle?” Ansha asked casually.
“It's a good group,” Aurora shrugged. “I like the idea of defending good. That part's fun. I also like the Clusters, and the way we work as a whole instead of a few individuals forced together by circumstance.”
“What about the mage training you received? How do you think it compares to other schools?”
“What other schools?” Aurora sat upright, disrupting Meeplar. “I don't know anything about them, although I did definitely learn that the training I had is not really equal to fighting someone who's turned to death and blood magic.”
“That's no surprise,” Ansha said. “Not many mage schools teach how to counter that kind of negative energy, because it's such a negative process in itself.”
Aurora grinned, looking at the dusky-skinned, dark-haired mage as she found herself a perch on a corner of occupied bench. “You sound like a teacher yourself. Are you?”
“Not really,” Ansha denied, shaking her head. “I'm more of a magical historian. The history of our powers and the different schools of thought on using them fascinates me.”
“And what school were you trained in?”
“I learned from a wandering witch, originally, and have been picking up bits and pieces of other stuff as I go along.”
“Is that why you travel?”
“Part of the reason, anyway. I—I like to travel. I should have been born a Seeker.”
“Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me something?”
Ansha smiled, warm and intimate. “Perhaps because there's a lot more to me than I feel like telling you at the moment. For now, what about that mage school of yours? Let's compare methods.”
That touched off a debate that ran on into the next day. Ansha had strong opinions about the methods the Hall taught young mages, and they weren't very flattering.
“Look, this debate is ridiculous,” Ansha finally said. “Pull over the horse right here and I'll show you the truth of what I'm trying to tell you. Go on, do it. And get off the horse.”
“Ive heard of people telling others to get off their high horse before, but never literally,” Kesh joked. The rest of the Cluster had been listening to the animated debate with amused interest. They all stopped and Aurora dismounted, leaving the stirrups free for Ansha to use. Of course, Ansha didn't, just threw her leg over the horse's rump and slid down to the ground.
“Come on, over here.” Ansha moved to a particularly green patch of grass along the roadside. “Now. I want you to make a ball of light, no bigger than the palm of your hand, bright enough that you'd be comfortable using it on a dark and stormy night. Got that?”
In reply, Aurora held out her hand and made light. It glowed. Ansha copied her. Both balls of light looked the same, both glowed cheerfully despite the sunlight, and neither gave off heat.
“So? Where are these negative effects of yours? I'm not feeling anything.”
“I am,” Ansha grimaced. “Step to the side and look down.”
Aurora did so and gasped. There, on the ground where she'd stood, were two brown footprints where the lush green grass had died under her feet. She dismissed the lightball and dropped to her knees to examine them. “How did that happen? That's never happened before!”
“Yes, it has,” Ansha disagreed, dismissing her own lightball. “Every time you pull ambient energy from the environment, something's going to suffer for it.”
“Why didn't they tell us about this?” Aurora ran her hands through the lifeless grass. Brown, crunchy. . . dead. And it had been vibrantly alive a few moments ago. “What kin
d of harm are we all doing, just by using our powers?”
“I don't know why they didn't tell you,” Ansha said, running her hand over her tightly bound hair. Sometimes she didn't like being right. “I do know, though, that every time you pull energy to cast a spell, there will be damage to everything around you. That's just the way things work. You can't escape the natural order of life.”
“Meeplar?”
The fuzzling hopped off Larissa's pack and investigated the ground with an inquisitive chirp. “Do you know anything about this, little fuzzling?”
Meeplar twisted from side to side, her version of a head shake. She touched the dead grass and made a sad feeling.
“I agree, little one,” Aurora said. Her heart felt suddenly heavy, all the joy she'd taken in magic suddenly dimmed. She looked up at Ansha with troubled eyes. “What do you suggest I do differently?”
Ansha made a face. “I knew you hadn't been listening. Here. Look this over.” She dug in her pocked and pulled out an oval lump of white quartz.
“It's a rock.”
“With your othersight, nitwit.”
Aurora switched to her othersight, making certain that the energy to power it came from her own reserves. The lump of quartz suddenly lit from within with a violet glow. She switched her gaze to Ansha. Sure enough, her personal power glowed violet as well.
“You make the energy yourself, then store it in here?”
Ansha nodded. “It's the best way I've found in all my studies to make sure there's a lot of energy available without damaging the life around me.”
Life. . . “Ansha, what about healers? Where do they get their energy from?”
“They should do the same, pull it from within. Why?”
“Because. . . Larissa, aren't you all taught the same way I was? Pull energy from around you?”
Larissa suddenly looked a few shades paler. “So we are. You mean we've been harming as much as we've been healing? That's—that's disgusting!”
She dropped to the ground too, to run her hand through the dead footprints in the live grass. “Can I do what you do, Ansha? Store energy in an object for later use?”
“Of course,” Ansha nodded. “If you have the ability to take, you can also give.”
“I need a rock. Now. And you need to show me how to use it.”
Larissa set about looking for a rock immediately, with almost frantic haste. Marlan and Kesh glanced at each other, then nodded and dismounted. Kesh took the reins of Larissa's and Aurora's horses, then held his hand out for Marlan's as well, and led them all well off the roadway. Without bothering to consult anyone, he unclipped the bits from their travel bridles and hobbled them, loosening their girths. He looked around, but couldn't find any sign of water. They'd be fine, though, for a little while.
Meanwhile, Ansha was explaining the intricacies of external power storage to her suddenly avid pupils. She went over the types of items that worked best, and pointed out that each individual person preferred something different, so they didn't need to limit themselves to her choice of white quartz. Nearly every rock found on the entire continent of Anarill had some potential for energy storage, as well as a wide variety of woods and even (very rarely) some fabrics.
Aurora found a rough hunk of green malachite that buzzed in her hand when she picked it up.
“I think I've found my—what did you call it again? Focus?”
“Yes. What have you got there?”
“It's malachite. And it buzzes. And look at Meeplar!”
The fuzzling stretched up on tiptoe, trying to reach the rock with her tiny little hands. Aurora offered it to her, ready to catch it if the weight proved too much, but Meeplar just held it close to her torso and purred.
“Well, I'd guess if your familiar loves it, the rock will be a good match for your resonances,” Ansha grinned. “Hang on until your healer finds one, and I'll show you how to make the stone work for you.”
“I just can't believe this,” Aurora said, shaking her head. “Why would an entire organization dedicated to light and life allow its mages to suck life out of the very world? And why did I never notice the effect until you made me do that test?”
“That part's easy,” Ansha replied. “It's like this. Unless there are a lot of you in an area casting spells, the effect is probably going to be widespread. You won't notice it every time. But here, look at it this way. Your Hall of Light: How many growing things are in there?”
“Lots of them,” Aurora said promptly, picturing the lush courtyard. “Why? If more mages suck more energy, shouldn't there be nothing growing there?”
“Wait a moment. . . now tell me, how many of those growing things are actually in the ground? And how many gardeners does it take to keep the things alive?”
“Oh.” Lydia thought about that for a moment. Most of the plants at the Hall were indeed in pots, and had a small army of gardeners to tend them. “Does it affect things, then, if they're in the ground or not?”
“I've not studied the effect myself to know for sure, but I suspect it does. It makes sense, after all, that the earth itself would have more energy to draw on than an individual plant.”
Aurora had a sudden flash of insight: all the older mages, concentrated in the Hall, where the students were. . . “Ansha. Does this drawing effect pull energy from people as well? Like, from the students? Could that be why all the senior mages stay in the hall, to suck the youngsters clean of energy, knowing they won't even miss it. . .”
“That's a sobering thought. I wonder if you're right? We'll probably never know the answer to that. It's not something you can ask of a group that denies they do any harm in the first place, after all.“
Larissa approached them then, cuddling a rock of her own rather like Meeplar with the hunk of malachite. She'd found a pale rose quartz, nearly translucent, that already lit from within with the sunlight striking its surface.
“This must be the one,” she said, offering it to Ansha.
“If it works for you, than it definitely is the one. Aurora? Retrieve your malachite and we'll get them started.”
Ansha walked them through setting up the stones to receive and store energy, then showed them how to project energy into the stone for storage.
“Do this every day,” she cautioned, “or the stone may never properly charge to its full potential. You'll know when it's full because the energy will feed back into you, and not stay in the stone. Tomorrow, after they've got a bit of charge on them, I'll show you how to work with them. Then you two will be well on the way to being safe for your surroundings.”
“Good,” Aurora said, wrestling gently with Meeplar. She really didn't want to think about the effect her magery had on the life around her, but she made herself face the truth squarely and without flinching. The way she'd been taught to draw energy from the life forces around her was, if not outright evil, at least a very grey area. By taking life force from other beings, she affected them, and not in a positive way. Why had no one told her about this? Aurora felt extra bad about the situation, because she was so much stronger than any of the other Circle mages, and therefore drew more power from everything around her. If she'd known. . . What was the difference, really, between her and Janx? No wonder it had been so easy for him to cross over into true power theft. He stole power by killing. She stole power by just taking it and leaving the donor diminished. In all, his way was more honest. Probably caused less long-term suffering, too. Why? Why did those smug and supposedly light-oriented Circle mages not teach this method of using a focus instead of ambient life energy? And why, above all, did no one ever point out that the ambient energy all of the Circle mages drew on was the same energy that gave life itself?
“Don't be too hard on yourself,” Ansha said, dropping down to sit beside Aurora. She rubbed the young mage's shoulders. “Nobody told you what to look for.”
“I just feel bad. They teach us to be good people, to fight for the Light and life, yet we do this by taking life aw
ay from innocents. . . What is the difference between power theft for good, and power theft for evil? None. I might just as well start killing people to power my spells, because that's more honest.”
“In a way, you're right,” Ansha agreed, still rubbing the tense shoulders beneath her hand. Aurora wished she'd not agreed so quickly. But the rubbing felt good. . . no one ever rubbed her shoulders. “Just taking what you want without a thought for the consequences is a hallmark of dark magicusers everywhere. But you have to consider intent, as well. Do you intend to cause harm?”
“Of course not!”
“Then be a little easier on yourself. You know the dangers now, and the consequences of your actions. If you continue to suck life force away from living beings, even plants and trees, you will be knowingly causing harm, and this is an evil act. But if you refuse to damage those around you, and use alternate methods to power your magic, this is a very good thing and will bring no harm to others or yourself. See my point?”
“Yes. . . But that doesn't make me feel any better for all the people and living things I've sucked life away from. Why did I never notice the energy I need is the same that makes life possible?”
“Most likely because you were taught to just use, without questioning the source. That's how most mage-schools work. Anyway, you're on the way to being safe for others now, so that's what counts.”
“I hope you're right.”
“I know I am. Now get up, and let's get moving again. Your partners have been more than patient with this little break, but I'll bet they want to get back on the road.” Ansha gave Aurora's shoulders a final squeeze, then stood up.
The group moved on, although in a much subdued mood. Larissa and Aurora both drifted off into their own thoughts, riding quietly with the others and not contributing much to any conversation that happened to spring up. Finally Ansha got tired of the glum silence and poked Aurora in the ribs.
“Hey! What was that for?”
“Trying to see if you're still alive. I'm beginning to feel I'm riding with a corpse.”
“You shouldn't complain, you know. You're the one that made me start questioning the things I do.”
“And you should, particularly if the things you do affect others. But that doesn't mean you should ignore all the people around you. That leads to boredom, and frustration, and becoming a crazy cat lady.”
“A what?”
“A crazy cat lady. You know, one of those old women that live in a cottage all by themselves, with a dozen cats to keep them company?”
Aurora laughed. “I don't think I'm in any danger of that happening any time soon. I just have a lot to think about, thanks to you.”
“Good. Now do it later. I'm your guest on this horse, and as such, it's your responsibility to keep me entertained.”
“If you say so. . . Where are you from? I know nothing about you, other than that you travel around.”
“I was born in a place with no name,” Ansha intoned dramatically, then laughed. “Which is seriously true. I was born in a tiny little village that no one ever got around to naming. It's located up in the Hollow Mountains, so I'm used to cold, and I got out of it as soon as I could. I like to travel, and I like to do magic, and I really like to study how magic works and where it came from. There. How's that?”
“Where are the Hollow Mountains?”
“Way up north from here.”
“I've never even seen mountains. What are they like?”
“Um. . . almost impossible to describe to someone who hasn't seen them. They're big. Very, very big. And beautiful. But you'd have to see them for yourself. I don't even know where to begin describing them to someone who hasn't ever seen a mountain.”
“Too bad, I doubt I'll ever get very far north. Most Clusters stay down here in the south, wherever we're sent by the Circle.”
Aurora lapsed into silence again, until Ansha prodded her. “You're doing it again. What's on your mind this time?”
“The Circle of Lights. Are they keeping important information from us all the time?”
“I don't know. Why don't you tell me about this Circle? I don't know much about them, except I've seen Circle diplomats and they're very sharp dressers.”
Aurora laughed. “Larissa's our diplomat. They dress that way because it's our dress uniform. Otherwise, they're stuck in the same uniform as the rest of us.”
“Which still isn't that bad. You all look like you belong together, and like you mean business. I don't think I've ever seen a magicuser or a healer in armor before.”
“It's very practical,” Aurora shrugged. “Okay, you asked about the Circle. There's two parts, the ones that stay at home and run things from the Hall of Lights, and the ones that go out in the world and do what they're told. That's us. The Clusters consist of four people. Each has a primary specialty, and at least one secondary duty. We have a mage, obviously, a healer, a fighter, and a loremaster. These people make up every active Cluster out there. We get sent out by the Circle to do their works. This can mean anything from helping save a village from floods, to negotiating treaties with neighboring countries, to fighting evil mages. And of course we do everything else, too. It seems like a good life so far. I thought I was one of the good people, safely on the side of Light and right. But now. . . now I feel, I don't know, dirty. Like I've betrayed my calling, and my familiar, and everything the Circle is supposed to stand for, just by doing things the way they taught me.”
“Enough with the recriminations,” Ansha suggested. “Tell me about the Circle and what they do at the Hall of Lights.”
“Those Lights are the ones that guide the rest of us. They're really hung up on protocol, and procedure, and doing things by the book. Somehow, when people make the transition from an actice Cluster to the actual Circle, they get stuffy and. . . well, kind of boring. I hope I survive the transition without becoming a fuddy-duddy. But boring as they are, the different ranks of Lights in the Hall are the ones that determine what the rest of us do. There are instructors, and researchers, and arbiters—they serve the common people as well as the Circle—and the actual governing body of all of them, the Spectrum. You can tell someone's rank by what they wear, which makes it easy to tell who you really have to listen to. Right now, as an active Cluster, no one in the Circle has to listen to us, except the students. But some day we can hope to reach the higher levels of service and have opinions that really count for something.”
“That sounds. . . interesting,” Ansha said thoughtfully. “So you all are the grunts, the common laborers, that go out and do the will of your elders, and hope it's the right thing to do. I don't think I could exist in that environment. I've never been willing to do what other people tell me to do without questioning it extensively. I think I'd be kicked out before the end of a week.”
“Possibly,” Aurora nodded. “The Lights don't much care for insubordination. When I first got there, I didn't want to be a mage, and I questioned everything. I got in trouble for it a lot. But they wouldn't send me away, because they didn't want my power to go untrained. Now I almost wish they had.”
“You said the Hall of Lights was the closest mage school to your home village?”
“Yes,” Aurora nodded. “Not a very good criteria for making such an important decision, is it.”
“Not. . . really. I've heard of worse. But I think, with your devotion to doing right, you would bave been better off in a more open-minded group that teaches different methods.”
“You may very well be right.”
Aurora lapsed into silence, fiddling with Stripe's mane. Ansha sighed.
“Don't think you're getting away with that,” she cautioned. “Tell me more about the spells you use.”
“That's not a very comfortable topic right now.”
“Too bad. I really want to know. Historian, remember? I need to know more about the Circle and its methods.”
“Why not tell me more about other schools? I know nothing about them. Everyth
ing I learned from my mentor was all oriented towards the Circle. How do other people do things? What are the names of the schools, even?”
“Well. There are only a few formal schools. Let's see. . . you know the Circle, obviously. Then there's the Magicmen of Larantyne, who are, as the name implies, a bunch of men from Larantyne. They're really standoffish and won't accept students unless they swear on to fight against the Dark One, an immortal mage-lord that's been trying to overrun Larantyne for a very long time. Then there's Tyragon, which trains both fighters and magicusers. And off in Friseia I've heard they have a school for magical art, but that's not really spells. Hmm. . . there are way more independents out there than actual schools. There is a small school in Trade City, but it only teaches elementals. Then there's the Wise Witch Coven, where an awful lot of common witches go at least once a year to visit each other and trade spells. That counts as a school, I suppose. And of course, you can't forget all the various priests' colleges. There are maybe a total of three orders out there that don't teach some kind of magic. Most of their magicusers are like you, only dedicated to their particular deity instead of Light in general. They serve where their orders tell them to serve.”
“What do the rest of the mages do?” Aurora asked, really curious now. “If there are so few schools, how do people learn to use what they're born with?”
“Oh, the same way anyone else in the world learns anything. They find a Master and apprentice. Or they get taken by a dark mage and lost.”
Aurora shuddered, and reflexively tried to reach for Meeplar. She found Ansha's thigh instead and snatched her hand back quickly. The fuzzling chirped at her from Larissa's saddlebag. “That almost happened to me, once. I was stupid, and went out alone. A dark mage abducted me. It was very scary.”
“I can imagine. I'm glad you got away. Someone with your strength, serving the powers of darkness, is just a horrible thought.”
“The Circle thought so, too. That's why they never sent me away when I was young and rebellious. They thought I'd get taken by an evil mage and they'd wind up fighting me at some point.”
“Wise decision on their part, to not send you off.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Aurora chewed her lip. “If they had, maybe I'd have found a different mentor.”
“And maybe you would have died horribly with your brain sucked out through your nose. There's not much you can do about your past. Focus on the future.”
“I am. Problem is, I know nothing of life outside the Circle or a small-town bakery. It is difficult to make an informed decision with my knowledge so limited.”
“The world is a crazy place,” Ansha said. “Do they really send out you Clusters unprepared?”
“All we are taught is how to do things the Circle's way. The general assumption is that other ways aren't worth bothering with. What if they're wrong about that, too?”
“That is something you'll have to decide for yourself. This is the reason why the All-Creator gave us free will, so we can make our own decisions and live our own lives.”
“All I've ever wanted is to know the rules.” Aurora rubbed her head. “It's like baking. There's a certain set of steps you follow, and a cake happens. Do something a little different, and cookies happen. But either way, you apply the proper method and get the proper result. That's how life should work. That's the simplicity of life within the Circle. Follow the rules, you'll do well. Simple. End of story. But the rules are bringing harm to others. . .”
“And you need to decide what to do about it, but not right now. Look, it's getting late. Why don't we start looking for a place to camp?”
“That's Larissa's job,” Aurora said automatically, then shook herself. “But it wouldn't hurt to help.”
She nudged her horse into a slightly faster trot to catch up to the Healer and the fuzzling. “Any ideas where we'll camp tonight?”
Larissa glanced at the westering sun. “I hadn't realized it was so late. No, no ideas at all. I'd best get looking.”
The healer sounded subdued, not at all her usual serene self. Aurora wondered what the knowledge Ansha had forced on them would do to the group. Already, she wanted out, although that might just be the kind of knee-jerk reaction that caused major problems at a later date. From the looks of her, Larissa wasn't doing any better with the circling doubts, guilt, and anger than she was, and might want out as well. But the other two. . . Kesh and Marlan had dropped back, chatting cheerily among themselves. Nothing had damaged their worldview this day, oh no. Their lives were far more simple and straightforward. If Kesh brought harm to another living being, he did it with the blade of his sword, with full awareness of what he did and why. And nothing under the sun could be harmed by Marlan's primary occupation of reading books. Maybe her knowledge could be used to bring harm to someone somehow, but if so, she would again know precisely what she was doing. None of this unintentional death and suffering.
Just then, Kesh broke off what he was saying and whipped out his bow and arrow so fast his hands and arms blurred. By the time Aurora could blink he'd fitted an arrow to the string and launched it into the stand of trees off to the side of the road. Following the flight, Aurora caught a brief glimpse of a large game bird standing in the undergrowth before the arrow hit in a burst of feathers and gobbling. Kesh let out a triumphant whoop and urged his horse forward to claim his prize, dismounting and holding the still twitching body up by the long neck. “Dinner, everyone! Why don't we camp here so I can clean this bad boy?”
“Is there water?” Larissa asked, in that dispirited tone.
“I don't know, ask your horse.”
“Smartass,” Larissa muttered, and Aurora blinked. She'd never heard the healer utter even the mildest of profanity before. She must really be upset.
“Meeplar?” Aurora called. The fuzzling winked out of sight, then appeared in her arms for a cuddle. Aurora smiled and rubbed her ears. “Can you check for water, please?”
Meeplar cheeped and slid down the side of the horse, hopping off into the stand of trees with a businesslike tilt to her little round body. She returned a few moments later, trilling her success.
“There's water,” Aurora called to the others. “Looks like this is as good a campsight as any.”
“Good,” Kesh grunted, splitting the bird's body open down the middle. He hadn't waited to start preparing it. “Someone want to make a fire?”
That night, the camp split into two groups, one festive and one gloomy. Aurora watched the divide sadly. It represented perfectly how she felt inside, torn between duty to the Circle and duty to herself. What would happen to her if she left? She tried to get more information out of Ansha about what the real world was like, but didn't learn much, only what she already knew: travelling could be damned hard, especially for a lone female. Nothing informative there.