Chapter 5 - Jetha

Jetha was bored. While the tutor droned on and on about something involving triangles and math, she stared at the tip of her pen as she tapped it gently against the inkwell. She was noticing that it was starting to stick a little to the edge of the glass as the ink on both the pen and the glass began to dry. She added a little ink to the tip of the pen and started again, watching as bits of it globbed up. She wondered whether it was expensive ink or not, and if more expensive ink would keep from globbing up like that. She was so engrossed in her 'studies' that she didn't notice when the tutor came up to the side of her desk and cleared her throat. She looked up, surprised, hearing one of her brothers snickering.

"Miss Jetha, perhaps you can tell us why it is important to understand the relationship between one side of a perfect triangle and the others?"

"Honestly, Mr. Adrams, if I ever encounter a perfect triangle, I expect I can just measure the sides and then I'll know how long they are," she told him with a sigh. "I just don't see the point of remembering all these different shapes and how they compare to one another if I'm going to be a wizard."

"Then perhaps you should ask Mr. Nordithet what importance shapes play in the art of wizardry, young lady. I expect you shall be quite surprised. I should hate to see you make a circle of protection too small for those you need to protect, for example." Mr. Adrams turned his back towards her and moved towards the front of the room. Jetha made a face at his back and it was all her friend Mindle could do to stop from giggling.

Mr. Adrams went on with the lesson then, changing the topic slightly to include circles too. While Jetha tried to concentrate on the lesson, she was too distracted to really listen properly. She doodled some triangles and circles on the paper, hoping Mr. Adrams would think she was taking notes. She'd copy one of her brothers' notes later. Her mind was on the next class she'd have with Mr. Nordithet, her wizardry tutor, whom she had private lessons with. He was going to finally show her a combat spell today. She hoped it would be something flashy she could show her friends, like a fireball. She wondered what components it would require to ready it for use. It was far more exciting to think about than triangles.

Eventually that lesson ended and she raced from the room. Mr. Nordithet had been given his own office to work and teach from, and she ran there. The family estate was technically just barely a keep, but to her it had always been a castle. Mainly it was a rectangular brick and stone building with small towers at the four corners.

Mr. Nordithet's office was in one of the towers. The office was on the top of the two levels in the tower, above the room he slept in. He wasn't there yet, so she sat on one of the two stools. There were bookshelves loaded with books, and more books stacked neatly on the desk.

She desperately wanted to grab one of those books to read. Curiosity burned to know what great lore was hidden within them, but Mr. Nordithet kept them magically protected. The last time she had tried the book had suddenly had a mouth full of tiny teeth that bit her.

Mr. Nordithet entered about five minutes behind her, right about the time she was getting unbearably antsy waiting for him. He was a tall man, whom many said looked too young to be a wizard, let alone a teacher. He had black hair combed back away from his face, was always clean-shaven, and wore meticulously cared for black pants and shirt. His polished boots rang softly on the hardwood floor. The door closed behind him without any noticeable effort on his part.

"Good morning, young Jetha," he said, his arms crossed behind him as was his habit when he walked.

"Good morning Mr. Nordithet," she replied, attempting to seem calm and appear as if she'd not been anxious for him to arrive. "I'm ready for my lesson." She couldn't help but let some of her excitement leak through in the smile she gave him. To her dismay, he shook his head as he moved over to his desk.

"Actually, Jetha, I've decided to change the plan for today. We'll get to that particular spell... perhaps next week."

"What?" the word escaped her mouth before she could stop it, her voice filled with disappointment and exasperation. Nordithet looked up at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Is there some problem with the change in my lesson plans Jetha?" His voice was calm, but she could hear a hint of challenge in it as if he was daring her to say more.

"No sir," she said in a meek voice. She was so frustrated she wanted to cry.

"Before I begin teaching you spells that could be used against others, Jetha, I believe we need to do some exercises in both focus and patience first. Mr. Adrams seems to believe that you're ability to focus on your studies properly is waning. I would hate to see you lose your focus when casting a dangerous spell, Jetha. Someone could be hurt.

Jetha groaned inwardly. She hadn't thought the two tutors would have had a chance to talk already. Adrams must have caught Nordithet in the halls on his way to the tower. She wondered briefly how hard it would be to turn Adrams into a toad for a day, but then chided herself for the thought, knowing what Nordithet would think of it.

Nordithet had been standing, his arms still crossed behind his back, studying her for a moment. He then turned, inked one of his pens, jotted a list of things onto a piece of paper, and slid it across the desk towards her.

"Gather these components together please, Jetha. You are going to try a premonition spell instead. They take some time, however, both for preparation and execution. We shall see if your patience and focus can be tamed long enough for the spell to work and give you some sight. It will be interesting to find out what you see."

She hopped off the stool and grabbed the list, looking it over and heading to the cupboards and shelves along the sides of the room where he kept bottles, boxes, jars, and even cages of items and critters required as components for spells. While a premonition spell was not as exciting to her as a fireball might have been, her curiosity was already getting the better of her and her excitement grew as she grabbed up a tray and began doling out the appropriate components on it, memorizing in her mind which ones she was getting. She knew, already, that he would ask her which components were used both after the spell was complete and again in a few days, to test her memory. It was important that she remember all that was needed for each spell, and accurately. Sometimes, too much of one thing could yeild entirely different results. He'd taught her about that early on and she'd watched in horror as the messenger pigeon she'd created had melted on the table from using too much sulfur. Once she'd gathered everything onto the tray, she brought it over to his desk where he glanced briefly at it and nodded.

"Start with a circle for you to sit in with the stone bowl please, Jetha," he told her.

"Next you will combine the first group of reagents in the bowl. The sulfur you will sprinkle in one pinch at a time. This spell is subtle; it must be done slowly and deliberately."

He gave her the chant to recite, telling her to start whispering it now as she began. Then he had her add water to the bowl, telling her to stir it until everything was dissolved.

"When it begins to steam, stop stirring it. It will bubble for a few minutes at that point. That tells you it is beginning. At that point you must keep your mind blank. Continue the chant. Stare into the liquid--see nothing else. Be aware of nothing else."

"You will have to continue until the liquid stills completely. When it is perfectly smooth it will be your looking glass. If your mind remains still, the bowl will show you answers to questions you did not yet know you had. You will when you are finished. Forget nothing of what you see. All of it will be important someday. Come and tell me when you are finished. There will be no more lessons until you succeed."

With that he turned crisply on his heel and strode from the room. She couldn't say anything without interrupting the chant. She added another tiny pinch of sulfur and stirred it in, maintaining the quiet chant. After what felt like an eternity of stirring it began to steam. Come one, you have to work, she found herself thinking as the first bubble started. The bubble popped with a loud blorp, and then there was nothing.

"Dammit!" she cursed herself, knowing she'd ruined it. She sighed, picked up the bowl and stood up. She went to the counter and cleaned everything up before gathering the supplies again to start from scratch.

This time, before she began, she practiced clearing her mind and doing some breathing exercises that Nordithet had taught her early into her training. Once she felt a calm settle over her, she began whispering the chant and drawing out the circle with the stick of chalk. She sat herself down in the center of it and began slowly and deliberately placing each of the items into the bowl one at a time. She timed some of it off, based on a specific point in the chant, so that there was about the same amount of time between each item that went into the bowl. She added the sulfur in a similar manner, one pinch at a time. Then she stirred in the water, barely faster than a trickle. She set the small water pitcher aside and watched the leaves and small clumps of various components swirling away as they dissolved into the water.

This time, she didn't allow the steam to distract her, but tried to concentrate all the more. She pulled the metal stirring stick out of the bowl and set it aside as she leaned in towards the bowl and latched her gaze on the still-moving water. It had become slightly thickened from the reagents and did not take long to stop swirling after the stick had been removed. Small bubbles began to appear on the surface of the liquid and she saw that as the first one popped, it left behind it a ring of smooth, glassy liquid in it's place. Fascinated, and still chanting, she leaned in even further until her face was only a short distance away from the surface of the water. More and more small bubbles appeared, followed by bigger ones. They bubbled faster and faster until the top of the bowl was just a mass of rising, popping bubbles. She clenched her hands and kept chanting, doing her best to keep her mind clear and not worry about whether it was supposed to work that way. She had to trust in both the magic and her instincts. Sometimes there were things that Nordithet purposely left out of his instructions for that very reason.

Then, suddenly, the bubbles died down and a glassy surface on the water remained, wavering for a moment before settling into a perfect stillness. She looked at it intently, still chanting the incantation but hardly aware that her voice was still making any sound at all. At first, she saw a glimpse of movement in the water, a woman staring back out of it at her. The woman seemed somehow vaguely familiar to her, and yet Jetha knew they'd never met. The woman gestured forward, saying something, as if doing an incantation of her own. Then, the room around Jetha seemed to vanish entirely, and everything around her was replaced by cloudy images.

She sat back, alarmed and her heart pounding. A quick look down confirmed that the stone floor and the chalk circle were still beneath her. She stood up, spinning slowly around to try and take in all the images at once.

There was a savage woman, chained to the ground, beaten but not broken as she still fought against the chains while someone in armor loomed over her with a whip.

There was priest, on his knees before an altar, his robes covered in blood. Somehow she knew it was not his own.

There was a girl, running. She was hurt and afraid. And something in her pack was trying to burn it's way out and hurt her but she didn't know it.

There was a warrior, standing in the rain. The path before him barred though he banged his fists against it.

There was a man in a cave, drawing symbols and images on the walls. She'd never seen their like before, but knew they were old and powerful. He turned and looked at her directly. Other figures gathered in behind him, their eyes staring out at her from the deep hoods on their cloaks.

"We only bought time," he told her. "In the end, we failed. Now it begins again."

Then she watched as the cloaked figures burst in to flame and the man who'd spoken fell to his knees screaming and clutching his head.

She turned to the next image, unable to bear his pain. She saw another man, in expensive robes, tall and thin, laughing. His image wavered though, something was wrong about him and fear grew in her heart just looking at him.

The last image was of herself. She found herself stepping closer, looking intently at this one. She saw herself drawing symbols like the ones the man in the cave had drawn, only she drew them in blood instead of the charcoal he had used. She felt pain across her own hands and looked down to see them both sliced open. She screamed, and the images around her shattered like glass as she did so. She fell to her knees, trying to clutch her bleeding hands, but suddenly the blood was gone. Her hands were perfect again, as if they'd never been damaged, even though they still throbbed with the memory. The mixture in the stone bowl burst suddenly into flame.

Nordithet was in the room quickly. He waved his hand and the fire in the bowl went out. She was still engrossed with her hands.

"What happened?" her teacher asked, bringing her back to herself.

"There were so many images," she said weakly. "All around the room, in a circle around me. I... had cut my hands, and was drawing strange symbols with the blood." She looked down at her hands again. She could still feel it, although it was fading rapidly. But there was no blood.

"In the images? The bowl showed you cutting yourself in some ritual? What did you see, exactly?"

"There were people... All around the room. There was some savage woman, and a priest with blood on him. And there was some man in a cave. He was drawing symbols, too. And he saw me. He said something about buying time, and failing, and something starting all over again."

"And there was some strange man. Something wasn't right about him, and he was scary. And why did the bowl start on fire? Was that supposed to happen?"

"Here," he said, pulling up a stool. "Sit down." She did, finding herself feeling more stable sitting down.

"Now, tell me exactly what you did and what you saw. Slowly. In detail."

She recounted everything from beginning to end, trying to remember as much detail as she could. After a moment, Nordithet stopped her and made her begin again, this time while he took notes in one of his many notebooks from his desk. He kept frowning, nodding, and shaking his head throughout, and periodically interrupted her to ask a question. By the time she was through, she was certain she must have done something wrong and he'd be upset. But he just sat there for a moment, looking off somewhere that wasn't in the room, thinking. Then he turned back to her, his brow furrowed with what looked like concern.

"From everything you've told me, Jetha, you performed the spell perfectly. However, it did not have the expected results. Normally, all the images you would see are confined to the liquid in the bowl, not in the room with you. What you've described sounds more like the form of premonition the druids use. Whomever you saw in the liquid in the bowl, it sounds as if she somehow deliberately interfered with your spell. Until we know who did this and why, we cannot be sure how far we can trust any of the images you have seen."

He closed the book and looked at her intently. "You said she seemed familiar somehow. I need you to try and remember where you've seen this woman before. For the moment, I will have to insist that you don't cast any further spells until we have answered some questions. If she can interfere with the spell you just cast, there is no telling what she might be capable of doing if she meddles with another. I will give you other tasks tomorrow, but I think that will be enough for today. In the meantime, I will do some further study on the druid magicks and see if I can find out what other things this woman is capable of."

"Yes Mr. Nordithet," Jetha nodded weakly. The idea that she couldn't do any more spellcasting until they were sure it was safe was almost as crushing as the visions had been. She wanted to cry.

"You may go now. But if you think of anything, especially if you remember where you've seen this woman, come tell me immediately. And wear this for now," he reached into a drawer and pulled out a small medallion on a leather cord and handed it to her. "It will help prevent others from casting spells upon you until we figure this out."

She turned it over and looked at it before putting it on. It appeared to be made of several gold circles overlapping one another. She slipped the leather cord over her head and tucked the medallion into her blouse.

"Good day, Jetha," he told her, turning and heading towards the bookcase. "Do not worry, I am confident we will figure this out in short time." He began pulling books from an upper shelf, sending a small cloud of dust flying around him in the process.

"Thank you, Mr. Nordithet," she replied glumly. "Good day." She left the room, still rubbing her hands together nervously.

She didn't know what to do with herself. Mr. Nordithet's was the last class of the day. Usually she practiced whatever she'd just learned until dinner. She sighed and headed downstairs to go sit outside.

It was closer to dinnertime than the expected, but still she had some spare time. She had stacks of books in her room, but she didn't want to work her brain. She decided she needed some rest.

Oddan, the younger of her two brothers, was practicing swordplay with one of his friends. She sat and watched them for a while, musing that she'd much rather know how to wield fire than a sword.

The two swung at each other with their wooden practice swords. There were the clacks of blocks and parries and the occasional thunks and ows of a failed block or parry. Oddan was being trained to possibly become a knight, and he practiced by trying to teach his friend. So far it seemed to her that Oddan was a better student than teacher. He didn't seem to be crying out nearly as often as his friend.

She wondered idly if Oddan was any good, or if the friend was just that untrained. That led her to wonder what people might be thinking about her abilities, and whether anyone thought she was ever going to live up to the potential people kept telling her she had. She wished she felt as confident.

She sighed and decided to go change clothes before dinner. She'd been fidgeting with her skirts and realized that there were specks of sulfur all over them, along with smudges and small stains from some of the other components. She went inside and headed to her room, hoping the skirts would come clean and her mother wouldn't have to chastize her for ruining another skirt. While mother fully supported Jetha's studies, she somehow could never understand why Jetha came away from some of her spells covered in soot or residue of components she'd used.

Jetha tolerated it and didn't say anything as mother was forgoing the usual marriage arrangements that her peers made for their daughters and allowing Jetha the chance to become a great wizardess instead. It had been made clear to her, however, that when she did choose to marry she would choose someone of a respectable station. Jetha had been somewhat relieved to know she wouldn't be essentially sold off to the wealthiest suitor as some of her friends had been. One of the girls she knew from the social gatherings her mother made the family attend had ended up a very different person once she'd gotten married. It was obvious that the marriage was without any love and it was rumored that the man beat her occasionally. Nella had been a quiet, lovely girl who sang beautifully before she'd married the man her parents had arranged for her. When Jetha had last seen her, she hardly said a word and it looked as if the life had gone out of her entirely. She'd sang one song, at the harsh insistance of her husband, but her voice had sounded hollow. Jetha knew she would never allow something like that to happen to her.

She changed into fresh clothing and took the dirty ones directly down to the kitchens. She spoke to the housekeeper, who assured her that they would do what they could to clean the clothes and let her know if the stains wouldn't come out. Jetha thanked her, always appreciating that the woman would give her advance warning if she knew Jetha was about to be reprimanded. The woman had once been the estate nanny before the children had grown old enough not to need one and the previous housekeeper had retired.

She then headed upstairs, to the dining hall. It was one of the two largest rooms on the estate, the other being the ballroom. There were several dozen tables, although only the head table was currently set for dinner as they weren't entertaining any guests currently. She'd always found it odd, sitting at that long table, facing a room full of empty ones with her family, but her father insisted upon it. Sometimes she envied the staff, who she knew gathered around a table together in the kitchens after they'd finished serving and cleaning up the family's dinner. They laughed and talked warmly with one another, while Jetha's family talked politely and treated each meal as if it was a formal affair. Jetha could choose take breakfast and lunch in her room and usually chose to do so nowadays, but attendance at dinner was expected. She took her place in the carved wooden chair she always sat in, just to the left of her mother.

"Good evening, Jetha," her mother said, giving her a nod.

"Good evening Jetha," her father added, without looking up. He appeared to be pouring over one of the many ledgers she frequently saw him reading. Jetha knew that mother would soon ask him to put it away and pay attention to mealtime.

"Good evening, Mother. Good evening Father." Jetha noticed that both her brothers, who'd sit at the other side of the table, next to their father, had not arrived yet. Neither of the tutors had arrived either, which suggested Jetha had still arrived early. The tutors were allowed to sit at the ends of the table. Jetha was always grateful that Mr. Adrams sat down by her brothers while Mr. Nordithet sat next to her. She wondered if Nordithet would tell her parents about what had happened today. At that thought, her nervousness over the incident returned and she found herself hiding her hands in her lap as if they might suddenly sprout wounds again.

Karic, the older brother, showed up with the two primary tutors. There were a couple of other tutors, like Oddan's sword instructor, but those were less permanent than Mr. Adrams and Mr. Nordithet.

They took their seats and it was a couple of minutes before Oddan came in, clearly out of breath from running to get there less late. He was less late than normal, which only earned him a scolding scowl from their mother this time.

Dinner was brought in, but Jetha found that she wasn't really hungry. She did make herself eat as much of it as she could. Dinner was braised chicken in a creamy mushroom sauce served over noodles. It wasn't that it wasn't tasty, just that her appetite was missing. She did manage to eat enough of it to avoid attention.

"I'll be needing Karic for about an hour each day," Father said to Mr. Adrams. "It's time to start explaining the family business to him."

"Fair enough," Adrams replied. "He has been doing well. An hour a day will not set him back in his schooling." Karic himself said nothing on the subject. He merely nodded diplomatically.

Oddan was eager to talk about a new sword defense he'd been introduced to that afternoon. He mentioned some sword master the move was named for, but the name meant nothing to Jetha. Today she was perfectly willing to let him do all the talking. Most dinners did eventually come around to someone asking her what she'd learned that day.

Mother spoke enthusiastically about an upcoming event at a neighboring duke's castle. Father seemed less excited.

"I don't see why we would attend such a function. He's not our duke," father complained.

"It would do us good to expand our horizons, Armond," mother told him. "Besides, this duke's borders are within a day's ride of our own lands. And our dear Duke Arlington will be attending with his wife and both of their children."

"Ahh, I see your angle now," father sighed. "The girl will be there."

Father tended to be a bit less diplomatic with words when it came to mother, and they had had some dispute over the Duke's daughter and how far mother should persue the idea of Karic attempting to court her. Jetha knew that Karic had no interest in the girl whatsoever, but the merchant's daughter he was taken with was unlikely to get past mother's approval process. While father maintained that it should be Karic's choice in whom he married, mother insisted that the girl be of a certain level of wealth and status. Karic had so far remained quiet on the matter, but Jetha knew that it was only a matter of time before he might try to lock horns with their mother. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be around to see it happen or not.

"Missa is a lovely girl with excellent upbringing. I don't know why you seem so against the possibility of a match," mother said, not for the first time.

"I heard that the girl had been promised to another duke's son," father said abruptly. "Perhaps the very duke who's party you wish to attend. Nonetheless, we will go to this ridiculous function in all our pomp and glory, where I have the utmost confidence you will sort the truth out yourself."

Jetha held her breath, as she imagined most of the others at the table did too. She knew that mother could take that either way, which could mean anything from the abrupt end of the meal to a change in subject.

"Wonderful. I do so love a good party," mother replied with only a slight edge to her voice. Jetha nearly jumped in her seat when mother suddenly turned her attention on her. "And what did you learn today Jetha?"

"I...I..." Jetha found herself stammering, not knowing what to say or where to begin. She really didn't want to say anything with her mother already in an edgy mood.

"Jetha learned a spell of premonition, m'lady," Nordithet said suddenly.

"Reeeeallly?" mother said. "And what is in the future for our young lady?"

"We're not entirely sure yet, ma'am," Nordithet answered. "Sometimes these spells can be highly cryptic in the visions they show us. It will take some time and study to try and determine the possible meanings."

"Were any of us in it, Jetha?" Oddan asked excitedly.

"No, Oddan, sorry," Jetha replied quietly. In her mind she was thinking she wanted to hug Nordithet just then for saving her from further questioning. Mother turned her attention to Oddan again and scolded him for interrupting.

By the time dinner was over she just wanted to be alone for a while. Mother would be anxious to tell her all about the party they had now been committed to going to. She'd tell her all about the different boys there, and that if she ever decided to give up "this magic phase," as Mother still always put it, that she should be thinking of which respectable boy to be marrying. Her mother was the last person she wanted to talk to just then.

She still wasn't sure if what Nordithet had said meant she was in some kind of danger or not. There wasn't anyone she could talk to about it, and she wasn't ready to admit to Nordithet that she didn't understand what was going on.

She heard her brother's voices, and ducked away from them. The staff would be cleaning here and there in the estate, and she wanted to avoid them. The other children around would just end up asking her questions, and she felt sure she wasn't supposed to talk about whatever it was that had happened.

She hunted around for a place she could feel both alone and safe. Eventually she found herself at the little chapel in the north tower. It was a tall round room taking up the whole tower. There were four tall stained glass windows, each for one of the gods. There were also the four statues of them, and each had their own small altar in addition to the main one in the middle of the room.

She lit a candle and walked around the room, stopping briefly at each altar. She asked Ogrun for the strength to not be afraid of whatever was coming. She asked Theran for the wisdom to understand. But at the next altar she looked up at the statue and fell backwards. She landed hard and knocked the wind out of her. She might have screamed had that not been the case. There, staring back at her, was the face she'd seen in the bowl.

The image of Ardana that had been carved into the stone was unmistakeable, even in the flickering light of the candle.

It can't be. What does it mean? I have to tell Nordithet... Her mind raced as she scrambled back to her feet and backed away from the statue. She moved deliberately, putting the candle back in its place before making her way out of the chapel. As soon as she was in the hallway and outside the tower she burst into a run, heading the straightest route to Nordithet's tower. When she reached the door to his office, she flung it open without knocking. She was relieved to find him sitting at his desk, pouring over a book. He glanced up, looking somewhat annoyed at her entrance.

"Now I'm quite sure your mother has taught you to knock at a person's door before entering. So what could possibly be so urgent that you would fling mine asunder?" he asked in a calm voice as he turned his eyes back towards the book. "And close the door behind you first, Jetha. The draft might put out the lanterns."

She closed the door first, unsure whether or not there was really enough draft to put out the candles but not wanting to start off by making Nordithet irritable after his help at the dinner table. Afterwards, she turned and moved to one of the stools in front of his desk and sat on it, waiting for him to look up at her again. For a few moments, he seemed as if he was deliberately ignoring her.

"I saw the face from the bowl!" she blurted out, unable to stand it any longer. "It was Ardana!"

She couldn't interpret the look he gave her just then, and she sat there for a moment realizing just how ridiculous it must sound coming from her. She really didn't know what to make of it herself. Why would Ardana want to interfere with my premonition spell? she thought to herself. What purpose would it serve? Are the visions I saw really going to happen?

"That explains much," Nordithet finally said, looking down at his book and writing something in the notebook next to it. "Ardana's magic is druidic in nature. Did you know that there is a theory that she is also the same goddess that the so-called savages worship? They call their goddess Aldanara, the Goddess of All Nature. Those who've seen the images they make of their goddess have said there are definite similarities."

"But what would she want with me?" Jetha asked. "The Gods have priests to do their bidding. Why would Ardana want to interfere with my premonition spell?"

"I'd like you to draw out those symbols you saw in your visions, Jetha. Be certain you make each on a separate piece of parchment, however, as we have no idea what kind of power they might hold when brought together. I suspect there is much importance to those symbols as you saw them twice."

"As for Ardana," he continued, looking back up at her. "I doubt she means you any harm. This may be a warning of things to come, as it was your premonition spell and also a druidic premonition spell used. We do know that war is headed in this direction -"

"Father says it won't come here," Jetha interrupted. "He says they just want to enslave the savages in their grasslands."

"Your father is wrong," Nordithet said bluntly. "He, too, has recently received the news that the Elar have taken some of the key coastal cities and are moving inland from there as well. I doubt the tribal people will be able to stop them, though your father should give them more credit. They can be very determined and cunning warriors when it is required of them."

"He didn't tell us about this," Jetha said quietly, suddenly feeling afraid again.

"I'm sure he thinks he is protecting you by sheltering you from it for now. Nonetheless, perhaps your vision is meant to contribute something important relating to the war. Or, perhaps it is something else. Only high priests speak to the Gods directly, and even they do not question what they have to say. It would be unwise for anyone to assume Ardana's image within your spell, for it could bring her wrath down upon them, so we will assume it is truely her that has done this. We should not ignore any possible meanings these visions may have. We should also consult a priest on this matter. I shall ask your father to request one visit us. In the meantime, however, your task is to draw out those symbols so we may decipher their purpose."

"Very well," she said. Part of her was reassured that it didn't sound like she was in danger, per se. Another part of her worried that she'd somehow attracted the attention of a god. For the first time in her life she found herself looking forward to a visit from a priest.

Her mind quickly filled with doubts, but she pushed them aside and excused herself. She left the room and closed the door behind her. What if the priest didn't believe her? What if he accused her of some evil? Wizards and the priesthood had not always gotten along well.

She tried to put such thoughts out of her mind. She went to her room and pulled out some paper and some chalk to sketch symbols with. It was the other images that were sticking in her mind better just then. She didn't know what to make of the parade of people she'd been shown. She couldn't think of any pattern to them. It wasn't as if each of them seemed to have something in common.

She brought her mind around to the symbols, trying to play that part of the vision over and over in her head. Nordithet had taught her to memorize symbols, so she remembered most of them fairly well. There were a couple she couldn't remember, but she sat down to draw out the ones she did. She sighed in frustration that the first one was based around a perfect triangle. It was the one Adrams had given the odd name to--the one with all three sides the same. She promised herself she'd pay more attention in his classes from now on.