I gasped. "Nailla!"

She just stared at me in challenge, her eyes miniaturized storms.

"You can't be... all right, I can tell you're serious, but... but this is a lifetime commitment!"

"I am well aware," she snapped. "My sisters lose their lives without me. I know what I ask, and what I give. A fair exchange."

"Soul bonds should be about trust," I said, "And intimacy, and companionship."

"Such sentiment is for the dull-witted." I was glad for the distance between us; she looked and felt truly terrifying, her eyes deep pools admitting no light. "You are in need of a protector, and you will not find a more powerful monster willing to watch over you than me. And I need help to reach and rescue my sisters. You will not deny me this!"

I... I couldn't think clearly, besieged on all sides by everybody else's reactions.

Oh, wait. Hurriedly, I tamped down on my Empathy, thanking mana I was wearing my mage robes. Then I drew in a deep breath, Meditated, and reflected.

I had to admit I was a little flattered, and even, unwittingly... fluttery.

But more importantly this seemed like a terrible idea. Really, Nailla's proposal felt to me as though I'd just been offered marriage by a noble. Except marriages at least could exist only on paper, marital soul bonds being the minority rather than norm.

On one hand, she was so out of my league she'd of course take towering offense if I refused. On the other, I preferred my lowly lifestyle without the risk and drama of an unexpected upgrade, and I couldn't forget the numerous disadvantages of taking a familiar. This was even before considering what Nailla wanted from me in return: an accomplice in her one-undine rescue mission that may or may not turn into a roaring rampage of revenge.

No, I already knew my decision -- for now -- and just needed to manage its delivery. I released the reins on my Empathy to find Nailla growing dangerously restless, and my friends... I glanced over to their unabashed stares and open fascination as though they were watching a show.

Sighing, I turned back to the prideful undine. "How long ago did you come up with this idea?"

She tossed her hair, spraying droplets of water. "Does it matter?"

"And what did you think at first?" She glared at me balefully without answering, but I could easily guess. "You hated it. But you just couldn't think of another way forward."

"Can you?" she shot back.

"No," I said, "But can you understand that I need time to think this through? I don't even have [Familiar Bond]. Do you?"

Finally, mercifully, she seemed to relax, a tidal wave slumping back rather than crashing over us. "No," she admitted, "But you are not pleased. Do you think I would make a poor familiar?"

In an instant she'd gone from wrathful incarnation of nature to winsome damsel. Come to think of it, I'd seen her like this once before... with Jeff.

Oh no, was she turning her charm offensive in my direction?

"Um. It's not you, it's me," I started to say, but I felt her mood dip lower. "Anybody would be lucky to have you." I quickly changed tactics. "But such a bond should never be entered into lightly. I don't know nearly enough about familiars, not yet, though I plan to remedy this defect shortly. What about you? How much do you know of familiars?"

"Tame pets." She loaded the words with venom. "Sad slaves. Loathsome sellouts."

Silence descended as I stared at her. "At least she's honest," Tom said dryly.

"Nailla! That, that isn't any sort of basis for forming a partnership."

"Partnership." She repeated the word scornfully, but the emotions behind it were more complex. "And you believe your human scribblings will give you your answers?"

"Some of them, at least."

"Then go. Seek what you will. Decide. And don't return until you are ready to be alone with this monster."

"Nailla!" I protested, stung not least because she'd struck home. But she flipped into a dive so I just glimpsed her tail disappearing under.

We all stared at the now peacefully burbling river, and then Hannah exclaimed, "What a...!" She unleashed a few choice insults that made me glad Nailla was fast disappearing into the distance. "Does she always treat you like that?"

"What?" I blinked at her, surprised at her simmering indignation. "It's fine."

"Fine? All I can see is her belittling and snapping at you, while for some reason you keep trying to help her."

"She does seem to have an attitude problem," Bessie agreed. "Sure you'd be safe with her alone?"

I thought straight-talking Blake would at least understand, but apparently not. Clearly none of them saw Nailla as I did. "She isn't the most diplomatic, but she tells it as it is," I tried to explain, however poorly. "She isn't insulting from cruelty or carelessness. She speaks up because she cares, and she's rude out of an excess of passion. She reminds me of an old friend, actually."

"You were friends with a water monster who likes drowning and eating people?" Blake said.

"Um... no." I shrugged helplessly. It seemed overly dramatic to say so, but I thought they were similar where it counted: their blazing hearts, their sharp tongues, their forward gazes, their raging helplessness, and their refusal to give up no matter the odds.

I shook away memories of my friend. Who'd deserved better.

"You really like her, huh?" Bessie said. "She's not just some charity project?"

Personally, I would be happy to receive 'charity' and thought highly of those giving it, so I didn't appreciate the negative implications. But rather than start a debate that wouldn't be welcomed, I answered simply, "I do."

"Picnic's ready," Tom interjected with deliberate timing.

We all eagerly relocated onto the checkered blanket. I was pleasantly surprised to find the enchanted basket preserved the temperature of whatever went in, so his spread of little pies and pastries were hot and fresh, while the optional dips were cool.

"This is amazing, Tom," I said. "Thank you. And where did you come by such a basket?"

"Rented for the day from the Companions," he said. "I've been taking tips from them."

"Sadly we should put better comms before picnics," Bessie said. "Can you imagine having one of these for quests, though?"

Conversation naturally turned to their current earnings, spendings, and training. It had been two months since they'd each received their first SES, and apparently they'd coordinated their schedules to start their twenty-four-hour sessions simultaneously. Mainly this was for convenience, so they wouldn't become irregularly unavailable, but a side benefit was to morale.

"Not that we really would drop out before the twenty-four hours are up, but sometimes commiseration loves company, you know?" Bessie said. "I'll study as many Books as needed -- though we only have two uses left -- to gain [Mana Skin]. Oh I cannot wait."

"Same," Hannah said, adding dreamily: "I've wanted [Rain of Arrows] since forever."

"Just need to break that bottleneck for [Taunt]," Tom said.

There was a conspicuous pause before Bessie said, "Blake won't tell us what he picked. Surprise?"

"It will be," the teammate in question said.

In turn, I shared some of my experience with my Mind Healer. "But you're as awake and aware as in the real world?" Bessie said. "So it's like illusion magic?"

"Yes and no? A Dreamscape is formed from the mind and feels a little surreal. Sort of like a shared interactive hallucination?"

But eventually, we moved on to dessert, marking the beginning of the end. In a reversal of the main meal, I selected a cold pudding topped by warm fruit sauce. I was glad for this self-indulgent break, but...

"You're just itching to return to the library, aren't you," Bessie said.

I twitched guiltily. I was eager to research familiars, so yes, but I said, "Do you have other plans? Um. I can go later."

"Rena, your birthday is supposed to be for you." Her gaze was level, serious. "If you don't want to celebrate at all, you can always just say so."

My stomach sank lower. I glanced around at the others, receiving the impression they'd discussed this in private amongst themselves. Hannah was twisting a napkin in her lap and repressing concern.

"But I know I haven't been around much," I said. And truthfully, I didn't think that would change anytime soon.

"See, we don't want to be your pity date." I blinked at Bessie in confusion, and she clarified: "We want you to spend time with us because you want to, not because you think you should."

"I do want to! I just... There's so much to do."

"Why the hurry?"

It was a simple question, but it gave me pause.

Healer Bishop had said I was torn between my two sides as a thinking Scholar and feeling Empath, and that both had value but the balanced sum was even greater. So I tried to think and feel this through.

I realized that, emotionally, I still felt swept up by a sense of urgency. Thinking about it, one logical explanation could be that I'd prepared urgently for the Silver-Ranking test, and then likewise rushed to achieve Learned accreditation, and all the while I'd been aware of the time ticking down to Duni's destruction. Maybe I'd grown used to worrying and hurrying.

But I no longer had any upcoming deadlines to meet. I was at a bit of a loss since breaking with Duni, actually.

Part of me still wanted to rush out immediately to investigate Nailla's offer and everything related, but I could do that tomorrow just the same. Life seemed to enjoy surprising me, and I realized I'd best not drop everything to focus exclusively on each one. At least, that seemed an easy way to overlook the familiar old for the shiny new.

"You're right," I said. "I have been rushing for no reason, haven't I? I'll endeavor to enjoy today without thinking of it as procrastination. Did you have any plans?"

They exchanged glances. "Actually, about procrastinating..." Bessie began.

"When's the last time you exercised?" Tom said.

I looked at them with fresh new guilt and horror. "Um. A while?" They waited mercilessly until I admitted, "Duni."

"You've seriously set yourself back," Tom said sternly, shaking his head. "You know it isn't like with other Skills, where you can mysteriously come back stronger after a break in training. Every day you stick to your exercise plan brings you a tiny bit closer to the fitness Skills you'll need, and every skipped day you lose a huge chunk of that hard-earned progress. Well, er, at least that's how my instructor described it, and if he wanted to scare me into never slacking he succeeded."

Bessie and Hannah nodded in agreement.

I thought he had a point, and I'd only been hurting myself with my avoidance. But personal distaste and slothfulness were only part of the motivation, and I wavered before admitting, "I really don't want to cross paths with more nobles." Which was a truthful blanket statement that conveniently also covered one noble in particular.

"What?" Bessie laughed. "Tell me you haven't been avoiding the Guildhall because of them. Seriously, Rena, I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen one and all from afar. They don't hang out with us or bother us, if that's your worry."

"I haven't seen one anywhere near the running tracks," Hannah said.

"If avoiding nobles is your goal," Blake said, "The last place you should've gone was the teleportation room." Ugh, he had a point. Blunder upon blunder. "But really, the ones to watch are their bodyguards."

"They're also never in the workout rooms," Tom said. "And you don't have a Passive Skill yet, right? Just [Running]? We were thinking after a warmup jog..."

My friends had respected my wish not to frivolously waste time by planning various exercise routines, which just went to show: be careful what you wish for.

The hours passed like that, unhurriedly and usefully. I not only caught up on the exercise I'd neglected but agreed to upgrade to a better-rounded daily regimen. And we chatted, especially during my many frequent breaks.

It wasn't the same as the day we'd planned in Duni, but it was good.

I'd worked up an incredible appetite by dinnertime. We went back to Hannah's place, and not only were her parents genuinely pleased we came, but Georgina showed up with a bottle of wine right on our heels. "Oh, so you're too busy for us but not Rena," Hannah said, holding open the door.

Georgina smiled at her. "Hello to you too, Hannah dear. Yes I have been very busy, thank you for asking."

"Who's that behind you?" I asked, and she moved aside to reveal a vaguely familiar face. Recognition clicked into place, and I exclaimed: "Oh, you're my dress's maker!"

"Hi," said the young woman I'd met at the Artisans' party, dark-haired and mousy-looking next to Georgina. "I, I like your robe."

"Thank you," I said, "It's Georgina's work."

We both turned to look somewhat imploringly at the Senior Artisan, who rolled her eyes. "Rena, our birthday girl. Naomi, my new assistant."

Introductions made, she sauntered inside. "Nice to meet you again," I said while one hand touched a paper up the other's sleeve. I murmured under my breath, "[Scribe]."

As I turned to follow her, I caught Georgina's wink. Well, that mnemonic trick had been her idea.

We split after dinner. Georgina and Naomi also didn't linger, joking it would be worth visiting again just for more of Tom's cooking. He and Bessie stayed longer, chatting with the Smiths, while Blake trailed me back. I wasn't carrying anything valuable this time, but I simply ignored my escort as he wished and then waved to him at the library's entrance before heading inside.

Instead of diving straight into research as was my wont, I paused and recalled my long-neglected stack of correspondences. Once I'd only known Senior Rubrik in such a way, through our letter exchanges, and they were how I'd come to Wilton looking for him. I shouldn't let these other messages collect dust just because I was now in a safe and stable situation.

'Should' again. After a moment, I looked through the letters with new eyes, deciding which ones I actually wanted to hear from again and replying to those. I was thinking of how to deal with the rest when a Priority Message arrived; this time I neatly plucked the delivery out of the air before the rune dissolved.

Jessie Thorne, the outside read.

My heart instantly started beating faster. Master Thorne! I'd thought he would never think of me again, and he'd looked up my birthday? Sent his best wishes as a Priority Message? Or maybe he had something more significant to say!

With shaking hands, I opened up the envelope. Then I stared blankly at the contents.

See you soon at the dungeon! Don't worry! I read, followed by what was presumably his signature.

That was it?

Also, his calligraphy could use some work. I'd expected better from a Master Scholar.

Mentally, I smacked myself. Was I seriously critiquing his brevity and handwriting? What about the message itself! I recalled my mentor had mentioned my possible inclusion in an assignment. Could this be it?

Conveniently, Executive Clancy came around to wish me a happy birthday. Her face went flat when I showed her the note -- it wasn't long enough to qualify as a proper letter -- before she gave a long-suffering sigh. "Ignore him," she said. "There have been some delays, and you aren't supposed to know any details until you're briefed in full."

"What about the Scroll protection?" I asked.

"Yes, about that. Can you explain why you are studying such an advanced Scroll?"

I suppressed a wince and said, "I saw an Executive Scholar use a spell like it from her grimoire. I suppose you could say I was inspired."

Her eyes softened slightly. "Yes, I understand that. But since the purpose of these sample Scrolls is for study rather than use, I suggest you simply keep your expensive Scroll safe in the Guildhall and Quarters. I must remind you that if you are found negligent in handling guild property, you will be held accountable for its loss."

My shoulders slumped. "I understand."

"However... If you do take reasonable precautions such as purchasing your own protection, simply benefiting off a sample Scroll that happens to be reusable should not constitute negligence." She nodded to me, said, "Happy eighteenth, Learned Loress," and left.

I was still confused by the weird feelings I'd picked up from her when Senior Rubrik and Learned Anderson came by. "Happy eighteenth, Rowena," my mentor said, his eyes shining. "Here in Grimmark, at least, eighteen is considered the age of adulthood. I hope you will accept a gift from us commemorating the event."

Learned Anderson swung a plain black handbag off her shoulder and presented it to me. "Um... thank you," I said, accepting it. I tried to hide my slight confusion and disappointment; his opening speech had just given me higher expectations, that was all. "Wait, 'from us'?"

"I pitched in for durability and weight-lessening," she said. "Executive Clancy for the weather-proofing and space-expansion enchantments."

I stared at her and then back at the bag. Opening it, I Appraised it inside and out, but... "Enchantments? Are you, um, sure?"

"Anti-thief protection," my mentor said succinctly.

My eyes widened. Unable to resist, I pulled a Scroll out from a sleeve -- Entangling Vines -- and dropped it inside. Instantly, it transformed from magic into a perfectly ordinary roll of parchment to my best senses.

"Wow," I managed through a dry throat. "This is exactly what I need."

"He also paid in full for the bag itself," Learned Anderson said meaningfully, which... yes, considering the number and quality of enchantments successfully stacked on it, had to be the costliest expense by far.

"It's not portal-proof," he warned me, "And the size restrictions... oof."

I'd hugged him.

I badly wanted to start the next day looking into familiars already, but Senior Grace was implacable. "You rested yesterday," she said.

"It was my birthday!"

"Cancel early or not at all. Now work."

I could only obediently do as instructed. She was such a taskmaster.

Still, maybe I felt newly appreciative of the people around me, but I realized this time was wholly for my benefit. Senior Grace might be demanding, but she was trying to help me learn. She always pulled time out of her busy schedule without complaint, while I continually discontinued our classes and... and took her for granted. How hadn't I seen this before?

Suddenly overcome, I looked up into her milky eyes and said, "Thank you. I don't think I've said that enough, but--"

"Thank me by working," she interrupted.

Right. I buckled back down.

That took up the morning, and after exercise and lunch I had another lesson with Learned Westwick. I was reminded of when I'd discussed him with Healer Bishop, along with a host of other Empathy-related concerns.

"True, knowing you stand to benefit might add complications," he'd said, "But conversely it also might make connecting easier. Many people, particularly Scholars, can have difficulty opening up. He might actually be grateful for an excuse rooted in pragmatism. Regardless, forming a genuine emotional connection typically requires honesty and communication."

With my Mind Healer's words in mind, I absolutely did not distract from my poor excuse for a partially drafted Book on [Empathy] by discussing the benefits of [Advanced Empathy].

Thankfully, Learned Westwick took my revelation in stride, saying, "That is one terrifically handy Skill. Though I imagine it has counterbalancing disadvantages."

"I don't believe all Skills are equally well-balanced, but yes," I admitted, "It's not without drawbacks, that's for sure."

"Hmm. I think you have twice as much reason to finish your Book then." To my chagrined horror, he indicated my pitiful runic scribblings. "I think I speak for most Copyists when I say we rarely feel more connected to someone than by reading their personal Book. And didn't you choose [Empathy] because it is close to your heart? Next time I'll bring one of mine."

"I don't feel closer to Senior Okim after studying his Books," I argued.

For some reason this seemed to amuse my teacher. "How do you find him?"

"Um... hard to read until he focuses on a Book. Then... intense."

"And his Books?"

I shuddered, remembering flailing about in [Magic Hand]. "That first time I thought the Book must have been made by madmen."

"Yes, he is a hard person to know. But I think you came closer faster than you ever would without Books involved."

"But Senior Rubrik..."

"Has known him for a long time. He's grown more distant since, as Copyist Scholars do. Don't worry," Learned Westwick said, "I think you'll have a much easier time with me. I was assigned as your teacher by design, after all."

I peered at him curiously. "You were?"

"For my benefit as much as yours," he agreed. "I look forward to your Book."

I wanted to protest I hardly had the time, and also would it ever get any easier. Instead, sighing, I bent my head back to work.

When I was finally free in the evening to look up familiars, I went first to the Archives. I was promptly presented with such a long list of unwieldy titles I backed away, returning to the general library.

I really had neglected reading on the subject before. Nailla might be waiting a while, but I had the distinct feeling she'd prefer if I took my time and returned certain of myself rather than hurrying into a reunion underprepared. Also, the former felt significantly safer, even if the thought made me feel guilty (and she'd seen my distrust, called me out on it even... how did that somehow make it feel worse?)

My first book was supposed to be an innocent primer on familiars. Instead, I found myself mostly horrified by the one-sided power masters had. Sure, the familiar influenced the master as well, and abusing your familiar was a little like cutting off your own nose to spite your face, but familiars could only give suggestions, where masters gave commands.

In fact, 'master' was an appropriate descriptor. Familiars had to deliberately resist to disobey direct orders, and conversely, working 'with' commands -- in other words, doing as they were told -- could temporarily empower the familiar beyond what they were ordinarily capable. This boost formed the basis for numerous familiar training manuals, only becoming more pronounced in later Skill upgrades.

The book's language was carefully couched in positive terms: 'Order your dog familiar never to run into the street!' 'Remember, it wants to obey you, so be clear in how you express yourself.' 'Your familiar's happiness will add to your own.' 'Don't forget to still give treats!' But it made me ill to think of any of it applied to Nailla. All right, that was an exaggeration; I was sure she'd happily chow down on more fish snacks.

Still, I suddenly understood why Nailla had such a low opinion of familiars.

Probably the bond wasn't designed for other sapients. Yes, as I read on, I learned familiars tended to become more intelligent over time, becoming capable of human language. I thought of Primrose, Jeff's giant ape familiar, who couldn't vocalize human speech but was eloquent with her signing. Had she needed Jeff's influence for that?

No, focus, Rena. I selected a book detailing the drawbacks of taking a familiar.

I'd already known familiars reduced their masters' power-based life expectancy, but I was surprised to learn the effect was power-dependent. People with more mana lived longer; the stronger the familiar, the more mana it drained; thus, stronger familiars took more years off their masters. Relative power levels also played a part: if the master was much more powerful, the mana drain and its effect could become near negligible. Finally, the Skill increased the bond's efficiency, decreasing the mana drain, and its upgrades improved upon this further.

In other words, I struck out thrice: Nailla was powerful; she was considerably more powerful than me; and I lacked [Familiar Bond] as a Skill entirely.

The book suggested all was not lost. For the greatly ambitious or desperate, a more powerful familiar could be used to reach greater places, overcome greater obstacles, and defeat greater enemies, maximally increasing one's own power and thus life expectancy. An apt comparison might be taking an unforgiving loan with steep penalties and then gambling to repay on time.

But since I wasn't such an insane character... no. I would not be taking Nailla for a familiar.

My heart sank even as I felt relieved. With the case closed, I could have shelved the book and left it at that, but I somehow felt personally invested in the topic now. Besides, I recalled how Healer Bishop had mentioned counseling familiars, giving the impression he'd expanded his worldview therefrom.

Oh, look, we were warned not to take a familiar much more powerful than ourselves unless we were exceedingly compatible or had upgraded [Familiar Bond]. Otherwise, it could exert undue influence, like a wild horse leading a beginner rider.

Though by now I was resigned to the fact it couldn't be Nailla, I had to admit taking a familiar became increasingly tempting as I read on. Power, versatility, companionship... So many authors waxed poetic on how their familiars enhanced all areas of their lives. My Mental Resistance should help with the bleed-through, and for once my Empathy could actually be a boon, since I would already be used to filtering out others' emotions from my own.

Then I picked up a book on taking unwilling familiars, which was so upsetting for me to read I put it back down. It was time for bed anyway.

How could anyone believe it a good idea to coercively bind their soul with another's? I didn't think any amount of familiar counseling could salvage that situation.

The next day, after my studies etcetera, I continued where I'd left off. I discovered much more common than direct coercion were the cases where the bonded was a newborn, sometimes with the yolk of its hatching still drying. As a malleable Empath myself, I couldn't help but feel disturbed reading of this standardized practice, especially since Nailla's sisters were likely held for this very purpose, so their replacements could be easily coaxed into agreeing to anything.

And in order to avoid such a fate from befalling the other water spirits, Nailla was essentially offering to sell herself. No, I did not want to take part in her debasement.

How was none of this restricted information? Shaking my head, I finally turned to the Archives. I mostly found information on targeting a master through their familiar, which was universally considered despicable, even though I supposed logically it wasn't any worse than sticking a knife in that same master's back. Similarly, an Orange book went into gruesome detail on forcibly severing the bond... wait a minute.

I stared at the severance spell array. It would work, and the backlash might cripple or kill the master or familiar or both, their chances worsening as they struggled. That wasn't what interested me at the moment.

Maybe... just maybe...

I tried to resist, I did, but after reading several unrelated books with the theory constantly simmering in the back of my mind, I couldn't help myself. I pulled a Red book. And a-ha!

Vindication. I found a severance spell designed to be cast by the master, which claimed, when properly executed, to make the procedure relatively harmless.

In other words, the 'lifetime' Familiar Bond didn't really need to be for life.

The demon was in the details: proper execution was fiendishly difficult. Not only was the required spell Tier-4, but its runic formation involved three dimensions, making it impossible for me to recreate with a single cast. Also, casting would not only be arduous and complicated but also distractingly (soul-breakingly) painful, so at least [Intermediate Pain Resistance] was strongly recommended. (Thankfully, my [Mind Over Matter] could negate pain entirely, and I'd conveniently be casting nonstop, satisfying my Skill's precondition.) Finally, the familiar's cooperation was essential: it needed to be equally desirous of breaking the bond but not actively hostile to the caster.

A single misstep, and while I didn't think I'd lose my life, my magic might never recover.

This seemed reason enough to shelve the book as restricted -- who but a Scholar would have the caution, finesse, and patience to successfully execute such a spell -- but as I kept reading, I discovered why the book was Red. [Familiar Bond] was a Tier-3 Skill that could seem deceptively simple to gain with a single casting, though in actuality this included finding a compatible familiar, bonding before magically Bonding, and taking that final step into a lifetime commitment.

Without that unbreakable commitment aspect, however...

I sighed. Another case where knowledge obstructed progress in the Skill. I wasn't planning to gain the Skill anyway, I told myself, though I was decidedly unhappy.

Really, it was like the system penalized using our brains sometimes.

I foresaw another major problem with, for example, soul bonding with Nailla to later sever that bond. Namely, this was restricted information, so I couldn't discuss or cast the spell with her. However...

Closing my eyes, I recalled the generalized contract I'd signed. Yes, it had accounted for the possibility of the signee possessing a familiar or other soul bond. In such a situation, it was deemed unrealistic to prevent or monitor every instance of information leakage. Whereas the rules were strict with a human partner, who'd essentially need to sign the same contract themselves, nonhumans were treated much more laxly...

Just like that, I knew what I should do.