Mar woke up groaning. He rubbed his back, wondering why it ached, then remembered he slept on his floor. He looked over towards his bed, expecting to see Yavin still sound asleep, but his bed was empty.

The druid in question poked her head around the corner. She had a sheepish look on her face as she handed Mar a bowl of dirty brown colored stew.

“What’s this?” Mar asked.

“I tried to make breakfast, but I’m not familiar with any of the ingredients you have on hand. Sorry.”

Mar tried a spoonful. It was mushy and had an interesting combination of flavors, but it wasn’t horrible. “Stew isn’t half bad.”

Yavin blushed. “It was supposed to be bread. I seem to recall that’s something everybody in the city eats. I added way too much water though.”

“So about today. Why don’t you try on some clothes of mine from the bin over there?” Mar pointed under his bed, where several pieces of clothing were sticking out. It was more than most people owned, but thanks to enchanted looms clothes were far cheaper in Orlem then elsewhere.

“Why? My clothes are perfectly suitable. Besides, yours won’t fit right.”

“I know. Maybe just throw my coat over the top? It’s just the way you’re currently dressed practically screams ‘druid’. We’re going to have to go to Orlem’s School of Magic and everyone there is a professional mage. They might not have any power over you since you don’t live in Orlem, but the mages here hate it when outsiders are encroaching on their profession.”

“Very well.” Yavin said resignedly. “If it will help me find this master crystal mage of yours sooner then I will concede to your wishes.” She picked up Mar’s largest coat and through it around herself. Mar wasn’t that much taller than her, but the sleeves still extended past her hands. It covered up the tell-tale signs of her being a druid though, so it served its purpose.

“About that.” Mar interjected. “I told you I’d introduce you to Verona. After that you’re on your own. I’m sure as hell not taking you to Darrik.”

“You speak as if there is something wrong with this Darrik person?” Verona inquired.

Mar barked a laugh. “More than something wrong. He’s a complete ass. You’ll see for yourself if you’re unlucky enough to meet him.”

Yavin tilted her head quizzically. “You don’t get along with him? Odd. I do not believe I would be sent a vision of this man if he was unworthy of accepting the burden I wish to pass to him. I will have to see for myself.”

Mar shrugged. “Your loss. But now that your ready let’s go. Verona is probably at the fields already practicing. The big Tournament is coming up soon.

They left Mar’s apartment while it was still early. The cool morning air was chilly, and Mar slightly regretting having to give Yavin his jacket.

There were plenty of other people awake though, and even if they couldn’t see the druid clothes that Yavin wore, they couldn’t mistake the cat-like ears that marked her as a beastkin.

Many people in Orlem thought the beastkin were unnatural abominations, since their ancestors had been human druids who twisted themselves with their own magic, but that was thousands of years ago.

At first Mar wondered why they were getting so many stares. Beastkin were a minority certainly, but they weren’t unheard of in the city. It was only when Yavin’s heavily endowed assets brushed against his arm as she clung to him that he realized they looked like a couple. Mixing species was always seen as moderately taboo, and the people staring must have thought Mar was some sort of sexual deviant. Mar’s face reddened at the thought and he asked Yavin to pull up the hood of her jacket to obscure her ears and eyes.

“Oh, I nearly forgot! I promised Grob some sweets!” Mar exclaimed. He reached to his side and jungled his coin pouch a bit. There was a light clinking of coins and Mar decided he probably had enough. He stopped by a stand on their way to purchase a sweet cake and some caramelized treats. No chocolate this time though, apparently there were growing tensions with the empire to the south east, and imports have stopped.

“Who’s Grob?” Yavin asked.

“Oh, just a goblin. It helps me with my work sometimes, so I give it food as a reward.”

“There are goblins here?” Yavin exclaimed with wonder. “I didn’t realize they could survive in human cities. I assumed you’d get rid of them.”

Mar nodded. “They’re viewed as slightly more intelligent rats for the most part. And more annoying too. A rat doesn’t pull apart your gutter apart and try to make a hut in your garbage. Nor can it pry open the latches on your windows. Goblins are killed or tossed out whenever their found. Grob’s the only one I know of at the academy, and that’s just because it’s meant to be there. One of the masters had a little project involving goblins, so a small tribe was brought in for the experiments. The master claimed that the reason for the massive diversity in goblin phenotype and intelligence was actually caused by a disease. A disease of a magical nature. He believed that if he could cure that disease, or at least partially treat it, goblins would develop to be far stronger and more intelligent.”

“Interesting. Did it work?” Yavin asked.

“Yes and no.” Mar replied. “Can’t really be sure, since the treatment killed all the other test subjects. Grob certainly seems more intelligent and bigger than your average goblin. I talk with it almost every day.”

“Impressive. It is rare to find a goblin that can speak Human common with any degree of fluency. I think I’d like to meet this ‘Grob’”.

“I did promise it I would have work for it to do. If you want to stick around after I introduce you to Verona then you are welcome to.”

“Can the goblin actually help you work? I know they’re clever and tenacious creatures, but the work done in the city has always seemed so abstract that even I can barely wrap my head around it. Building a shelter? Making bowls and spoons from wood and clay? Even hammering a knife out in a blacksmiths forge. Those are all things that I can clearly see the purpose of and understand the work involved. But secluding yourself in a building staring at shapes on plant fibers pounded into sheets for the sole purpose of scribbling more shapes onto yet more paper? What purpose could that serve?”

“It’s true work like mine might not directly benefit people, and rarely is writing done in the outlying provinces to the extent we do here, but it is useful. Imagine if you discovered a really good way to make pot. After you died, wouldn’t it be great if other people could use your technique to continue making your pots?”

“Isn’t that what apprentices are for?” Yavin questioned doubtfully.

“You can only teach so many apprentices. And even then, you run the risk of those apprentices not being able to teach the technique and pass it on after you. And even if they do, after the technique has been passed on hundreds of times don’t you think it would end up being a little different? With writing, you can preserve your own words and know that whoever is reading them is reading them exactly as you wrote them, no matter how far into the future they are. This preservation of detail isn’t so important in pot-making, but for something like history where the small things can easily be distorted with time, it’s invaluable.”

“Hm. And you can really get the goblin to understand all of that?” Yavin asked.

“Goodness no! If Grob could understand that I doubt he’d need me to bring him sweets and keep him out of trouble.” The druid seemed to have a much higher opinion of goblins then most people, who thought of them as rats with hands, but she still had a realistic view of their abilities.

Yavin scratched her chin in thought. “Yes. I think I would very much like to see this Grob. And if he really can read and write maybe he could teach me!” Yavin giggled.

“You’re welcome to join us. I’m not sure about teaching you to read, but Grob has developed a deft hand at making paper. But I think first we should see Verona. I’d like to see her again myself.”

“Yes, that’s right. I must speak to that sorceress. If I do not get this totem fixed than… well, an unbound demon is not a pleasant thing.”

Livy sat at a desk at the library with an ancient tomb in front of her. It was the Historium Mythica, the very same book Mar had been reading to her from the night before. Mar had given her the assignment of rereading the passage on her own, but Livy didn’t actually need to do that. The truth was she was all caught up in her history of magic class. True, her first semester in the class had been abysmal, which is why her parents had hired a tutor for her, but after becoming properly motivated with the treat of not being able to move on to her next year Livy had studied hard and quickly caught up. Her grade for the most recent quiz was nearly a hundred percent.

Why then did she still need a tutor? Truth was she didn’t. And yet at the same time she had insisted to her parents that they continue employing Mar’s services.

Livy let out a sigh as she flipped another page in the boring old book. She was like the main character in some sappy romance novel with a crush on her teacher.

It was a source of unending irritation to her that her every attempt to flirt with Mar would be shrugged off as friendly banter. She even wrapped herself around his arm whenever she got the opportunity. Heck, last night, she even offered to go take him home. Was she not pretty enough for him?

Livy knew that wasn’t it though. She knew her appearance wasn’t anything special, and in truth neither was Mar’s. It might just be part of the friendly tutor persona Mar put together for his clients, but Livy felt their personalities meshed together so well. No, it was something else. Livy didn’t miss the fact that his clothes sometimes had holes in it, or that he didn’t always have ink for his pen. As someone who hailed from a reasonable amount of wealth, Livy had never needed to be concerned with such things. Livy knew her parents would definitely forbid any relationship with this boy of lower status, but Livy found she didn’t care. After their lessons, she often found herself confessing her deepest hopes, dreams and desires to Mar like she did for nobody else. Mar probably knew more about her at this point then her parents did.

Her parents had always been intent on her becoming a skilled artisan mage. She was from a merchant family, and her parents knew a vital part of the process of making the leap from a wealthy mercantile family to a noble family and political player lay in establishing the family line in terms of magic. Every noble family that was worth anything made certain to crank out at least one mage a generation. More if they could manage it. Mage’s were simply too important a resource to exist without, especially in Orlem, which was practically overflowing with magic.

Livy’s family wanted her to become an artisan mage so they could capitalize on her abilities to take their mercantile empire to the capital. Her father had built their family fortune off construction, but he only had brick and bodies to work with. While such constructs might pass in lesser cities, in the great city of Orlem virtually everything that was constructed was built with as much magic as wood or stone. Oh, there were certainly techniques to carve and lay fluted marble columns and vaulted ceilings so high you’d need three ladders, but those would increase the workload of a project by months. A skilled earth mage could put up such a structure in an afternoon. It wasn’t a far stretch to say that Livy would be worth a full half of the company’s assets.

Only Livy didn’t want to build apartment complexes. She wanted something more adventurous. She wanted to see the world, not be cooped up in this one city, splendid as it was. She wanted to travel and be free to do as she wanted. In a way, she envied Mar for not having family ties to hold him down. If she were him, she would have left Orlem long ago.

Speaking of Mar, Livy looked out her window only to see him stepping off the Floating paths and walking towards the library. Livy quickly flipped back to the page that Mar had read to her last night. She scanned the pages quickly. Once he stepped in here she’d pretend to notice him and then ask him a question! Steering the conversation, she might be able to get him to sit down and—wait, who was that with him?

Livy hadn’t noticed the other figure at first, but now that she was looking she defiantly somebody walking by Mar’s side. She even had the nerve to grab Mar’s arm for balance as they stepped off the Floating Paths. And was that Mar’s jacket she was wearing?

Livy slammed her copy of the Historium Mythica shut, which earned her a glare from the librarian. Livy didn’t care though. She didn’t feel like reading anymore.