Quinn watched in wonder as Benjamin shoveled steaming hot chicken pie into his mouth and Madam Karliah grinned every time she walked by. Per her words, she loved a boy who could eat. Between bites he answered the questions Meyron fired at him. Unlike herself, Benjamin answered more questions than he asked.

“First, what do you know of your heritage?” Meyron had an inkpot and pen out along with his crumpled application and jotted notes on it. “Fae? Elf? Dragon?”

“I’m not really sure, to be honest,” said Benjamin. Meyron narrowed her eyes at him. “Mostly human, I think. I didn’t know my mother and my father doesn’t talk about her.”

“You look like you have a little Fae in you,” she said and added her own note. “When did you first realize you possessed the ability to use magic?”

“I was around ten and pulling weeds out in the fields,” he said. He looked like he wanted to frown but the pie tasted too good to do so. “They just started dying for me as I walked by and the crops stayed alive. A mage came through that summer and tested me, and told me in secret that I was a necromancer.” Benjamin scrunched up his nose. “I kept it a secret from everyone like he suggested. My father figured it out a week ago, and he stormed off and hasn’t been back since.”

“That would be because he came to see me,” Meyron said as she wrote down more notes. “Thought you were sick and wanted my help. It’s how I knew how to find you.”

Both new students stared at her with wide eyes.

“I should thank him before we leave,” she said, ignoring them. “He’s the one who gave me the idea for all of this.” Meyron gestured in a little circle that included all of them.

“My father came to see you?” Benjamin asked, and she finally looked up.

“Did I not mention that?” She glanced off to her left and rolled her eyes. “I suppose not. But that’s neither here nor there. Tell me, how do you tap into your magic? Are you an imbecile like Quinn here and enter a Focus-like state?”

“It sort of just happens,” he said and shot a glance at Quinn. “I can see these black vines when I use it though, and it looks like they absorb life. And I guide it. Sorry.” Quinn held up her hands and sighed.

“It’s fine,” she said and Meyron jerked her head up.

“It’s not fine,” she snapped. “Alright, I have what I need. Now, you.” She set her sharp, dark gaze onto Quinn. “I know even less about you than I do about anyone else. Perhaps we should wait until this evening. I sense your story will be a little longer than his.” She put the application and writing tools away and paused, looking back in the direction of where the barrel used to be. One of the stable boys took it out back. “On second thought, maybe I don’t want to know. You’re more like hired help anyway.”

Quinn deflated and exchanged glances with Benjamin. He shrugged and looked a little guilty, and continued to clear pie off of his plate.

***

Seamstresses had something against her, Meyron was sure of it. Fortunately, Benjamin’s demeanor seemed to lessen the woman’s distaste for her and she happily agreed to measure and dress both Quinn and Benjamin in a timely manner, and even provide a dress tailored from her existing stock suited for court for both herself and the girl.

Her hallucination hadn’t gone away since arriving at the Tilted Moon, and he seemed to have a serious fascination with Quinn.

“What an odd girl,” he kept saying, and continued to say as Meyron watched the girl select her colors. She had to admit, the circumstances that brought them together couldn’t have been more odd. To top it off, she claimed to have necromancer powers but Meyron could only see where she stored her magic. Benjamin was an open book. No one would be able to detect her ability unless they performed the testing on her. She appeared to be from Cinder with her dark hair, deep tan skin and gray eyes. Perhaps that’s why her hallucination had a fascination with her. They were from the same place.

“Go away,” she said in a hushed voice. He looked over at her. She hated it when he was present enough to respond to her. “Why are you even here?” He said nothing and pointed at Quinn. Meyron rolled her eyes.

“She is important,” he said, finally deviating from his previous script. “She knows, Meyron.” Meyron froze. He never used her name. And she knows what? No, coincidence most certainly didn’t exist. This girl wasn’t in the right place at the right time. This meeting was meant to happen and it made Meyron’s stomach churn.

Finally, he dissipated and she was able to relax. Asking him to clarify what he meant when he said ‘she knows’ would’ve been useless and strengthened his presence. He must’ve known Meyron changed her mind about keeping her as a helping hand and treating her more like the applicants she searched out. Perhaps as more than that. The girl’s wells for magic ran deep, though not as deep as her own. But at that age?

Quinn looked lost among the color choices and grew more and more confused as the seamstress chattered on about what colors would complement her skin. She just nodded and the seamstress was thrilled, and finally took her back to the measuring room. An apprentice tailor had already taken Benjamin.

Finally, some peace and quiet. Is this what it was like to have hatchlings? Meyron was glad she never took that route and began to devise a plan to convince Lady Tellmar to leave her comfortable home to trek through the countryside and hunt down more necromancers to join her cause.

***

“Are you sure the dress is okay?” Quinn asked Benjamin, who now insisted on being called Ben, and his face lit up.

“Of course!” he said and gestured with his hands. “Even Mage Meyron looked pleased. Not very many women can pull off that shade of gray. It makes them look, you know.” He drew a finger across his neck and stuck his tongue out to the side. “The lady probably couldn’t sell it to anyone else.”

Meyron had sent them back to the inn while she attended to more business, and the seamstress coordinated with a cobbler to fit their new shoes and boots. Quinn offered gold to Meyron to help pay for the clothes but she refused and assured both of them that the Academy would be footing the bill whether they knew about it or not.

Madam Karliah set up their shared room while they were out, and had one of the serving girls lead them upstairs and deliver a tray of tea and assorted meats, cheeses and fruit. Three beds with fresh blankets lined one wall and they sat together at a rectangular table big enough for six and sipped their tea.

“This feels like a dream,” said Ben and popped a grape into his mouth. He was a bottomless pit for food. “I sent my application to the Academy months ago, and when I still hadn’t heard back I just assumed I wasn’t good enough to be there. And now look where we are.”

“It’s quite strange, I agree,” she agreed. “Cinder has bounties out on necromancers, so I didn’t have a choice but to come here. It was pure luck that I ran into Mage Meryon when I did.”

Quinn recounted the colorful tale, all of Meyron’s language included, about the dragon that hit her square in the chest and then started screaming at her. It was almost funny in hindsight, but her chest still ached a little.

“Well, I think it was meant to be,” said Ben. “Things like that don’t just happen. I’ll bet it was your magic that led you to be here. From the sounds of it, you could’ve come to Rainon at any time, but you decided to do it now, just when she decided to leave the Academy to pass her teachings on.”

She merely nodded in agreement and they sat together in comfortable silence. Not even Quinn knew the significance of the events that led her to Rainon, and she didn’t want to discuss them just yet. She hadn’t had time to really decipher them herself.

Meyron returned several hours later with an assortment of belts, packs and pouches. One of the pouches contained modest jewelry and she spread it out on the table after they ate the dinner Madam Karliah brought up for them. The belts, though slightly different in style, matched the one she wore around her waist.

“I’m going to make an educated guess and assume neither of you have any experience with the king’s court,” she said, and glanced at both of them. “Given that you’re a farmer and you’re probably a refugee, I also assumed neither of you owned anything of value. These,” she picked up the belts, “signify that you are apprentices in training, specifically the buckle. Typically that would include a robe issued by the Academy, but there are multitudes of reasons why we wouldn’t be wearing them. First and foremost being we aren’t at the Academy, and many of us don’t wear them outside of learning and teaching environments anyway.

“The jewelry is self-explanatory: we want to move unnoticed in the palace and we need to fit in to do so. Lucky for us, minimalist jewelry is in fashion right now and I was able to find some pieces at decent prices. Someone will likely recognize me, but it’s more important that they think nothing of either of you. Both of you are trainees on your way to the Academy in the care of a mage recruiter. If we’re lucky, no one will even look twice at you, but just in case, this is what you’ll say.”

“Can’t you just go to court yourself?” Ben asked, inspecting a heavy silver ring. “Wouldn’t that be easier than dressing us up in disguises?”

“No,” said Meyron, and she smirked. “Because I’m not going to be the one to approach Lady Tellmar. You two are.”

Quinn exchanged looks with Ben.

“Us?” They asked in unison.

“I’ve thought about it,” said Meyron. “And if someone recognizes me, which is almost inevitable, I can’t go to Lady Tellmar and hand her a scroll and she definitely won’t agree to come with us. Not with the reputation necromancy has. You two? They’ll assume you’re her friends or family, and you’ve already agreed to learn under me.”

“I’m going to need more information,” said Quinn. This didn’t add up. It made sense why she and Ben traveled with Meyron, but for someone like Lady Tellmar to join them? Meyron said she had a winter home in Lorin, and was a lady in court. “Why does she need to come with us?”

Meyron’s stare bored into Quinn.

“In several weeks, I anticipate the practice of necromancy to be renounced by the Academy,” she said. She and Ben sat very still. “In a sense, it already has been since I haven’t had any students in years. Which means we won’t have the luxury of sitting around for long. By the time we reach Lorin is when I expect it to become known that I, the Pinnacle, have retired or died or renounced my own practice. Known necromancers will need to publicly renounce themselves or hide. Given Lady Tellmar’s position, it will be much more difficult. She will be an outcast no matter what she renounces.”

“What makes you think the Academy will do this?” Quinn asked, continuing to dig. The mage knew what she was doing.

“Perhaps you could enlighten us with the situation you left in Cinder.” She folded her arms and waited for an answer.

“The new king put bounties out on necromancers,” she said, not meeting either of their gazes. “A sack of silver for a dead one. A sack of gold for living, so they can hang us in the main plaza.” Meyron’s expression went from thoughtful to dark.

“So it wasn’t a rumor.”

“Why would someone make that up?” Quinn asked. “Ever since the old king died last year and left his bloodthirsty son in charge, we went from banned to hunted almost overnight. It was publicly announced. I thought the people of Rainon at least knew about it.”

“I can assure you,” Meyron said, her expression growing darker with each word Quinn spoke. “We knew nothing of the sort.”

All those years avoiding detection, keeping odd jobs and settling on hunting, moving around and finally being pushed out to the desert and North Forest and no one on the other side of the mountains had any idea what was happening? It was reduced down to rumor?

“How?” Quinn asked.

“An excellent question,” she said and drummed her fingers on the table. “One I don’t have the answer for, but if I’m right and the Academy renounces necromancy, I think we’ll know where to start looking.”

Meyron continued on with her plan, mostly scripting answers for them should anyone approach them and ask who they were and why they were there. Quinn hardly listened. Even before the official instatement of monetizing the death of necromancers, there were plenty of people looking for an excuse to kill them off. With necromancy banned, crossing over to Rainon to escape was difficult, especially through the capital. Few had the means or ability to cross to the north, and Quinn was fortunate to have already been up there when she finally had to leave.

Necromancers weren’t going to disappear or stop being born. If the entire continent planned to exile their existence, where would people like herself and Ben and Meyron go? Despite her calm voice, the wild-haired mage had a look in her eyes that stirred confidence in her. She wasn’t all talk, and Quinn could see that now. Mage Meyron the Black wouldn’t hesitate to kill and raze anyone and anything that stood in her way.

Now, if Quinn could only figure out what the woman was truly after, perhaps it would make the journey with no discernable end a little easier to bear.