The City on the Hill

The first few weeks of Yan’s apprenticeship flew by. Halen was indefatigable when it came to teaching the three apprentices, and so their actual days of training were so long and exhausting that, when they were over, Yan could do little more than eat dinner, then fall asleep as soon as she got back to her apartment. She usually made it all the way to her bed, and she was usually able to take off her uniform cassock and cape, but there were days when she sat down on the couch after coming in the door, and woke up five or six hours later, with a horrible kink in her neck and absolutely zero memory of falling asleep.

She felt pretty bad about this, because Sylva often texted her at night, asking how her day had been, and Yan only ever got back to her in the morning, reading her messages back over the bowl of dry cereal she ate piece by piece with her fingers. Some of Sylva’s messages had an air of desperation to them that Yan felt bad about. While Yan spent nearly all of her time with Kino and Sid, though she wasn’t sure she could call them friends, they were at least peers. Sylva was adjusting to life in the IKRB offices where she and her mentor-- a strange woman, to hear Sylva tell it-- were the only power users in sight. Sylva was new, the youngest in the office, and the odd one out in every respect, so Yan couldn’t blame her for feeling lonely and trying to reach out, asking if they could meet up for dinner, or hang out on the tenday, or anything like that. Yan felt bad for the fact that she couldn’t get away from work, and when she was away from work, she was asleep.

She texted Sylva platitudes that sounded false even to her.

> hopefully things will calm down soon

> s. is going to introduce us as his apprentices at the governors’ dinner

> so after that we’ll probably be doing more routine things than crash course on how to use the power to defend ourselves

> and trust me i will be glad to be free of it

> my brain has felt like it’s been stomped into mush every night

> and i want to hang out with you again

> didn’t think you liked parties

> no one’s mentioned it, so i don’t think so

> sorry :(

The day of the Governor’s Dinner, all three of the apprentices had been let out of training before noon, giving them some blessed time off, though Yan suspected that this was mostly so that Halen could have the afternoon to do whatever his mysterious normal tasks were. She didn’t care enough to ask what he was doing with his time, and she was grateful just to have the opportunity to take a nap and a long, luxurious bath before what was certain to be a busy night.

She couldn’t quite relax as much as she wanted, and by the time that the evening rolled around, she was nervous, especially when she got dressed in the outfit that had been given to her for the occasion.

It was clear that Sandreas wanted his apprentices to make a suitable impression on the assembled leadership of all the planets in the Empire. Yan looked at herself in the floor length mirror in her bedroom, admiration not quite what she was feeling.

The cassock and cape she had been given were beautiful, both made of heavy fabric that moved with a life of its own when she turned. The cassock was black, with small red buttons that matched the long cape. All along the bottom of the cape was almost invisible embroidery, done in red thread that only caught the light when it splayed out behind her, with the text of a hymn interwoven with floral patterns. She had been given a slim gold circlet to wear on her head: heavy, real gold.

Her family would have been impressed with it, even if her uncle Maxes would have teased her about how much it had cost. The spacer in her brain, no matter that Halen had claimed she wasn’t one anymore, couldn’t put away the knowledge of how much a kilo of gold was worth to ship.

Still, she hated to think that Halen might have been-- probably was-- right. The cost of the metal, while it registered as a fact in her brain, meant less than this new feeling of image that she was suddenly aware of. Sandreas was trying to communicate something with the way that he was presenting her. Yan shifted in the mirror, tilting her chin up, straightening her shoulders, twisting her lips into a gracious but controlled smile. It was her responsibility to try to embody that message, to not disappoint Sandreas. He was trusting her with that responsibility.

Fully dressed now, Yan left her apartment and crossed the hall to Kino’s rooms, intending to gather up her fellow apprentices so that they could meet the limo outside. She figured it was easier to collect Kino first, since Sid would almost certainly object to including Kino in anything. Yan knocked on the door.

There was a muffled sound of something heavy tumbling to the floor, a solid thud, as though Kino had just knocked something over. It took a moment for Kino to appear at the door, and she seemed disheveled. Her hair was wet and she was not dressed, wrapped instead in a towel. Yan looked in behind her at her apartment: though it was dark inside, it was clearly messy, with the furniture all pushed to the side of the living room, and random garbage tossed haphazardly across the floor.

“Are you going to get dressed?” Yan asked. “We’re going to be late.”

“Yes,” Kino said. Although her tone was even, the way that she was stretching the edge of her towel with a clawlike grip indicated that she was nervous.

“You okay?” Yan asked.

“Yes,” Kino said again. She wasn’t meeting Yan’s eyes, but she held open the door in a clear invitation for Yan to come into the apartment. Yan did, stepping gingerly over a discarded pizza box on the floor. The door shut behind her, and Kino walked deeper into the apartment. Although Yan could feel the power move through the air as Kino simply scooted garbage out of her path as she walked, the sensation was slippery and odd, quieter than Yan was used to. If she hadn’t seen the trash moving, Yan might not have noticed the feeling at all, which was unusual for her.

Kino’s outfit for the party, perhaps the only clean thing in the apartment, was laid out on the couch. Without preamble, she dropped her towel and started to get dressed. Yan hastily turned the other direction.

“Do I have to wear this?” Kino asked.

“The outfit?”

“This.” Yan was forced to glance at the nude Kino to see her holding up her own gold circlet with two fingers.

“I’d assume so,” Yan said, turning around and reaching up to touch her own circlet. “Why? Do you not like it?”

Kino quoted the theology, saying, “‘The Red King’s crown broke the strength of those who wore it, unfit to bear its weight.’”

Yan shook her head. “It’s not like you’re claiming something above your station. Sandreas gave it to you for a reason.”

“My station?” Kino asked. Her voice was muffled by her pulling her cassock on over her head.

Yan had no answer to that one, but turned back around to see Kino fully dressed, except for her shoes. Yan walked over to her, picked up Kino’s golden circlet from where it had been discarded on the couch, and placed it gently on her head. Kino stared at Yan for a second, then shook her head and began braiding her hair, pulling the water out of it with the power as she went so that it was fluffy and dry beneath her fingertips.

“It looks good on you,” Yan said.

Kino didn’t smile.

The three apprentices arrived at Stonecourt together, all looking more respectable than they ever had in their lives, in their new cassocks and capes. Sid spent the limo ride fiddling with this own circlet, which was apparently too cold to bear on his bald head, until Yan told him to make it float just above his skin. He grinned at her, and did that very ostentatiously, until Yan used her power to force it back down just before they all exited the limo. He made a rude sign at her, but the metal band stayed in its normal position, instead of hovering a good fifteen centimeters above his head.

Good. All three of them were capable of behaving. All three of them could look the way that Sandreas needed them to look.

Inside Stonecourt, they were greeted by Halen, who took a long look at them, in a way that made Yan want to squirm away. He was dressed in his normal black suit, though perhaps a slightly nicer variation than whatever his daily wear version was.

“Good,” Halen said after a second of scrutiny. “I trust I don’t have to remind you all how to smile and behave?”

“No,” Yan said, though glancing at Kino, perhaps she could have been reminded how to smile, and looking to her other side at Sid, perhaps he could have used a reminder to behave, grinning as he was.

“Good,” Halen said again. “Aymon is meeting with Guildmaster Vaneik. He asked me to bring you to him when you arrived.”

“Why?” Sid asked, and Yan was glad that he had asked it, because she wanted to know the answer.

“I believe because Vaneik wants you to meet his apprentices.” There was something in Halen’s tone that Yan couldn’t quite understand, but she chalked it up to him disliking spacers, on principle, as a pirate. He led the three apprentices up towards Sandreas’s office, and knocked once on the door before simply opening it.

Sandreas was sitting by himself on one of the couches, and Ungarti Vaneik was seated across from him, surrounded on either side by his two apprentices, Nomar Thule and Yuuni Olms. Yan recognized the apprentices, vaguely, from following spacer news and from having seen them both at the Academy years earlier. Everyone in the room looked distinctly uncomfortable. Sandreas’ smile was thin when he looked over at Halen and his own apprentices.

“Ah, so glad you could make it before we all headed down to the dinner,” Sandreas said. “Ungarti, these are my new apprentices: Yan BarCarran, Sid Welslak, and Kino Mejia.”

Yan made an attempt to smile.

Guildmaster Vaneik was a tall man, as all spacers were, and he had long black hair worn loose around his face. He looked them over, and his dark eyes settled on Yan, taking in her tall frame. “Aymon, I always enjoy being in a room where the spacers outnumber the rest of you two to one. You’re from the Iron Dreams , aren’t you? Pellon BarCarran’s ship?” He had recognized her last name.

“Yes, sir,” Yan said.

“Good man, Pellon,” Vaneik said. “Give him my regards when you see him.”

“I will, sir,” Yan said.

“Let me introduce you to my apprentices: this is Yuuni Olms, from the Neutron Star , and Nomar Thule, from the Gallant .”

Olms had a slender face, with curly brown hair cut close to her head, and inquisitive green eyes. Thule was broad where Olms was slim, and his blond hair was slicked back from his forehead. The thin line of his mouth, the harshness of his jaw, and the squint of his eyes gave a serious impression, one that Yan didn’t particularly like.

All the apprentices exchanged polite greetings.

“So, which one of these three is going to succeed you, Aymon?” Vaneik asked. “You’ll forgive me for hoping it’s the spacer.” Sid poked Yan in the side, at that.

Yan felt distinctly uncomfortable. Sandreas glanced over at her, amused. “I should ask you the same question, since you’ve had your two for almost five years now. You’ve had more time to figure out which is a suitable replacement for you than I have.”

“I’m in no danger of retiring, trust me.”

Thule’s mouth twitched downwards in a stifled scowl, and Olms looked away, out the darkened window behind Sandreas’s desk.

“Of course, you’re still under the impression that you’ll name your son as your successor.”

“I wasn’t aware that you had rewritten the Guild’s charter to turn it into a monarchy, Aymon,” Ungarti said lightly. “Even the person I name must be confirmed by the Council.”

“Luckily, the Council seems to respect your choices,” Sandreas said, his voice dry.

“Most of the time,” Vaneik said dismissively, wanting to change topics. “I still wanted to get your clarification on this Olar issue.”

“I don’t see why I should have to do anything about it,” Sandreas said. “If I start stepping on governors’ toes, I’m going to have larger issues.”

“It’s hardly just my problem,” Vaneik said. “And it’s hardly just an issue with Olar. It’s a problem across the board.”

“What are you suggesting that I do, then?”

“Put a Fleet ship in the system. Or more than one. Then you don’t have to step on any toes.”

“Oh, you don’t think it’s toe-stepping to park a warship in orbit around one of my planets?” Sandreas asked. “You don’t think that makes governors sweaty under their collars?”

“And how do you think it makes me feel when my ships can hardly get close to a system because your governors are letting pirates just sit where they please? I’m asking you very nicely to do something about it, because if I start stepping on your governors’ toes, you are going to feel that, too.”

Sandreas pursed his lips. “I’ll make some polite but firm suggestions,” Sandreas said. “But even if I had the inclination to send Fleet ships into every system, I don’t have the ships to spare. So don’t expect me to do so.”

“They’re all so busy fighting your little war.”

“That is, in fact, their purpose, among other things,” Sandreas said. “Chasing pirates and enforcing planetary law is generally beneath them.”

Vaneik frowned. “If you make an example out of Olar, then you won’t have to deal with this problem everywhere else. You’ve given people too long of a leash.”

“I don’t tell you how to run the Guild,” Sandreas said. “So let’s not talk about what leeway I give people.”

“As you say.”

Sandreas stood, which made Vaneik, and his two apprentices stand as well. “I’ll think about it, Ungarti. But don’t expect miracles,” Sandreas said, his tone moderated, more of a concession.

“I will take what I can get.”

Sandreas nodded. “You should go down to dinner.”

The Governors’ Dinner was being held in Stonecourt’s largest event hall. Yan had stuck her head in once before, when Halen had briefly described the event to them, but then the marble floor had been empty and the lights had been dimmed, giving the room the appearance of an abandoned department store rather than a party. Now, however, the room was elaborately decorated, with tables festooned with flowers, light seeming to come from absolutely everywhere. It was crowded, too, with the entourages of the governors of the several hundred planets within the Empire.

All the guests were doing their best to signal their standing. There were those, like Yan, who were dressed in their cassocks, announcing themselves as sensitives. When Yan cast out her power over the room, she could feel that extra soft tingle of power on many of the guests, even some who were not wearing cassocks and capes. There were plenty of governors, many of whom were sensitives, who were instead wearing their local finery, whatever that was: splendid dresses and robes, the likes of which Yan had only ever seen in photographs. Although Yan had travelled extensively as a child on board her family’s ship, she had only ever encountered the less formal variations of some of this traditional wear. And there were plenty of more subdued outfits, as well: people dressed in simple, more universal clothing, suits and dresses that might have been at home at any high society gathering throughout the Empire.

The three apprentices hardly stood out, compared to the gaudy sea of people, which meant that no one looked at them as they were led to the back of the room by some of the Stonecourt staff, Sandreas having briefly left to change into his own outfit, which he had not been wearing when he spoke to Guildmaster Vaneik. Yan wondered if that had been an intentional snub, or if Sandreas’ day was just so carefully regimented that he couldn’t have spared a moment to change before then.

In any event, waiting in the back area of the room, behind the stage, Yan couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Without Sandreas, the three apprentices were unmoored. Kino leaned against the back wall, picking at the sleeve of her cassock with her fingernails. Sid kept peeking out the open stage door, a repeated action that made Yan more anxious than anything else.

“What are you looking for?” she signed at him.

“Nothing,” he replied. But he stuck his head out again just the same.

Sandreas finally arrived, with Halen in tow, just a minute before the event was officially scheduled to begin. His outfit was quite different from his usual, and Yan was struck again that Sandreas loved to make an impression. His normally black cassock had been swapped out for a red one, and his long red cape had been replaced with black. The gold band on his head was only a hair more elaborate than the apprentices’, being made of a gold braid instead of a solid band. It sat neatly over his greying temples. He spoke with the master of ceremonies for a moment before speaking with Yan, Sid, and Kino.

“Kino, I’d appreciate it if you could smile,” Sandreas said. “That’s all you have to do here.” He glanced at Sid. “And you, try to behave.”

“You aren’t going to tell Yan to play nice?” Sid asked.

“No,” Sandreas said, which made Sid make a face. Yan looked down at her feet. “Yan has a healthy sense of shame and personal decency, which I have seen that you lack.” Sandreas’ voice was light, and his expression was amused. Sid rolled his eyes and shook his head.

The master of ceremonies got Sandreas’ attention. On stage, a small band began to play a patriotic song, silencing the sound of many overlapping conversations that had been drifting in from the hall itself. As the first song came to a close, Sandreas walked out from the backstage area, into the full bright lights, standing behind a lectern to give his welcome address.

Yan listened to him, watching him from the side, waiting for the signal that the three apprentices should step out. Sandreas looked confident and serene, and his voice was even. He didn’t glance down at the notes for the address he was giving, but Yan could feel him using the power. She couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing, but it was almost certainly some simple trick to see the page without looking, perhaps by sensing the places where the ink lay on the paper. It was the kind of thing that Yan could do when focused on it completely (in fact, she used to do it when she lived in the Academy’s communal dorms and wanted to read without bothering her peers by turning on the lights), but she was impressed by the way that he was able to use the power with that level of control and focus, while calmly giving a speech to almost all the assembled leaders of the Empire. She had known, intellectually, that Sandreas was powerful in a personal sense, or at least she had assumed it, but she hadn’t quite internalized it until this moment, seeing him so completely in his element, all the room focused on him and under his sway, hanging onto every word he spoke.

“The future of the Empire is one where we are united, against all who would seek to divide us,” Sandreas said. “We have more enemies than we have friends in this universe, uncountable and unnumbered as the stars. If we allow petty troubles to divide our friends from us, we shall be weaker still. It is standing together that has allowed us to prevail against all who would do us harm, as it has been since the founding of our Empire.

“While our enemies hide in the darkness, we shine with the light of God. It is that shining light that we pass down to our children. We must not allow ourselves to extinguish that torch; we must carry it forward.

“I have served as the Voice of this Empire for twenty years,” Sandreas said. “I have been blessed to lead you, as First Herrault was blessed before me. It has been the greatest honor and the greatest burden that any man could bear, and I have been blessed that I have not had to bear it completely alone; the Emperor, the Imperial Council, and all you assembled here have shared in the sacred duty of leading our people through every moment of light and every moment of darkness for these past twenty years.

“There must, however, come a time when I will pass the torch on to the one who will come after me, continuing the unbroken line of Voices. I pray that this will not be for many more years, but I must be prepared for that day nonetheless. As is traditional, I have chosen three apprentices, one of whom, with the assent of the Emperor, will eventually succeed me.

“Although I have never considered myself a teacher, it is a joyous burden to impart all the wisdom I have learned to these three. I will give them all my hope and my fear. They will learn from all that I have done, and all that I have failed to do. I pray that where they find fault in me, they will use that as a guide to be fair leaders of men where I may have failed.

“First Herrault provided such a shining example to me. There is a powerful bond between teacher and student, one which transcends time. I hear First Herraut’s voice when I speak. I still yearn to live up to her example, and fear that perhaps I am but a passing shadow, an imitation of her true wisdom. But she confessed to feeling the same about First Wyland before her. My apprentices may someday come to feel the same way about me.

“It is this passing of the torch that gives us strength, that ensures continuity of governance and of tradition, that unites the past with the future. My apprentices will have much to learn, but I am confident that they will learn it, and, with humility, I pray that I am fit to teach it.

“I would now like to introduce to you my three apprentices, who will carry the torch of the future.

“Yan BarCarran, of the Guild ship the Iron Dreams .”

Yan had been so wrapped up in listening to Sandreas that it took her a half second to realize that she was being summoned. She jerked to attention, then stepped out into the bright lights of the stage, looking out across the assembled leadership of the Empire, feeling the eyes of the universe upon her. She smiled, though her heart beat in her throat. There was applause, though Yan couldn’t tell if its tenor was enthusiastic.

“Kino Mejia, of Hanathue,” Sandreas said.

Kino stepped out into the light behind Yan. She wasn’t smiling. “Falmar,” Kino said, though Yan doubted that anyone could hear her over the clapping. “I’m from Falmar.”

“And Sid Welslak, of Galena.”

Sid grinned and waved as he stepped out next to the other two.

Sandreas turned and looked at the three of them for a moment, the smile on his face warm, though Yan couldn’t be sure if it was genuine, or if he was just good at acting for the cameras. It may very well have been both.

“I present to you the future of the Empire!”

After the speeches had been given, the formal dinner itself was a bit of a blur for Yan. She, Sid, and Kino sat with Sandreas at the head table, along with the governor of Emerri, a woman named Runwest. Halen was nowhere to be seen, though Yan chided herself for feeling like that was odd; it wasn’t as though Halen was a high status individual, so there was no reason for him to sit at Sandreas’ right hand. She had just grown accustomed to seeing them together, as they almost always were when Yan interacted with Sandreas. But, of course, she hadn’t been following Sandreas to his official duties until just this moment, so she wouldn’t have seen them apart.

The food was delicious, and Yan was able to hold up polite dinner conversation, when she was spoken to. Luckily, everyone seemed to understand that since she and the others had only been Sandreas’ apprentices for a few weeks, engaging them in anything other than mundane questions about their lives would have been pointless. And it was likely that Governor Runwest knew how to be appropriately subordinate to the Imperial government, and would not perform any political maneuvering at the dinner table, as other governors might have been wont to do. Emerri, being the capital of the Empire itself, was in a unique position of power and influence, but at the cost of being nearly wholly subsumed in interplanetary affairs by the fact that the Imperial government made its home there.

There would be plenty of time for other governors and guests to make moves after dinner. As soon as the main meal was over, the assembly turned into more of a general party, with drinks and dancing, with a band playing elegant music.

Yan wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with herself, as after dinner Sandreas got up from the table and went off to talk to people, leaving Yan, Kino, and Sid by themselves.

“Are we supposed to talk to people?” Yan asked.

Sid shrugged. “Maybe.” He turned to Kino. “I liked what you did on stage, earlier.”

She looked at him with a blank stare. “Why?”

“You own the fact that you’re a bad omen. I get that.”

“I’m not a bad omen,” Kino said, voice flat. “I’m just not from Hanathue.”

“You lived there, though, didn’t you?” Yan asked. “Besides, Sid, I’m sure no one heard her. Not over the applause.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I could pick it up,” he said, and tapped his glasses. “And anyone who could read lips would see.”

“I only lived there for a few years,” Kino said. “I’ve lived on Emerri much longer than I lived on Hanathue.”

Sid rolled his eyes. “Going to school on Emerri does not make any of the three of us from here.”

“I know. That’s why I said I’m from Falmar.”

“I don’t think it matters,” Yan said. “Sandreas probably just didn’t want people thinking about--”

“He was just talking about his mistakes,” Sid said. “If he’s going to talk about his mistakes, he might as well own that one.”

“I already know the lessons of Falmar,” Kino said. “He doesn’t have to teach them to me.”

Yan and Sid shared a glance. “Yeah,” Yan said. “I guess so.” She looked at Kino, the way she was picking the embroidered border out of one of the fancy napkins on the table. She wondered if God had put Kino here, as punishment and a lesson for Sandreas. If she had voiced that thought aloud to the masters at the Academy, they probably would have assigned her some kind of punishment or extra reading, but it was the kind of thought that she couldn’t help but have. It seemed fitting. She wondered if Kino herself saw things that way.

Sid seemed about to say something else, but was interrupted by someone approaching their table. It was Yuuni Olms, Guildmaster Vaneik’s apprentice, and she was smiling broadly at the three of them.

“Congratulations on your formal introduction to society,” she said.

“Thanks,” Sid said. He squinted at her, then signed, “You’re a spacer. You sign?”

Olms, surely not expecting to pull her knowledge of technical sign out at dinner, fumbled a moment and then signed back, “A little.”

Sid nodded, already bored of her.

“I was wondering,” Olms said, voice curious, “If you’d like to dance, Apprentice BarCarran.”

“Oh, um,” Yan glanced around. Sandreas was nowhere to be seen, and she normally would have asked his permission. Sid was clearly trying to hide a grin, and Kino was unaffected, staring out across the party and paying Olms almost no attention. “I guess so.”

“Excellent,” Olms said. She held out her hand as Yan stood. “Thank you for the honor.”

“It’s hardly an honor,” Yan said, taking the extended hand and allowing Olms to lead her out to the dance floor. She was a tiny bit taller than Yan, and was wearing a smart blue suit, rather than a cassock. They found a place on the dance floor and easily began the first few steps of the dance.

“Oh, I think it is,” Olms said. “Not everyone gets the chance to dance with someone who might lead the Empire, someday.”

“You might as well dance with Kino,” Yan said. It wasn’t entirely clear if Olms was actually trying to flirt with her. Yan worried briefly about how this would look, on the cameras. There were reporters taking photographs of the event, and Yan was sure that she, as Sandreas’ new apprentice, would feature heavily, especially if she was dancing with Guildmaster Vaneik’s apprentice.

“You’re trying to get rid of me so soon, Apprentice BarCarran!”

“No,” Yan protested, and Olms just laughed at her. “And you can just call me Yan.”

“I couldn’t dance with Apprentice Mejia,” Olms said.

“Why not?” Yan glanced behind herself, looking at Kino sitting alone at the table. She wondered where Sid had gone.

“Too short,” Olms said. “I wouldn’t know where to put my feet to not step on her.”

Yan did chuckle at that. “Do you dance a lot, on the Guildmaster’s ship?”

“Enough,” Olms said. “I think we’re busier than average. My father certainly hosted more parties than Ungarti does.”

“Is your father the captain?”

“Yes,” Olms said with a smile. “Banmei. What relationship is your captain to you?”

“First cousin once removed,” Yan said. “But he was close with my mother, so he likes me more than he probably should.”

Olms laughed. “Oh, I’m sure he likes you on your own merits just fine, Yan.”

“Perhaps.” They separated briefly for one of the steps in the dance, then came back together.

“Why don’t you think your captain likes you for your merits?”

“My merits aren’t exactly those of a spacer,” Yan said. “I’ve only spent summers on his ship for the past ten years.”

“It’s in your blood,” Olms said. “I’m sure your captain would not like you if he didn’t think you brought anything to the family.”

“I feel like…”

“What?”

Yan considered her words. “I kept having this nightmare, over the summer. I was on the Dreams , but I was about to disembark to go back to school. And when I was saying goodbye to Captain Pellon at the door, he would tell me something like, “Remember, you don’t have the family name when you’re not on the ship.’ It was a stupid dream.”

Olms laughed. “Oh, trust me, I get it. Whose family name would you take?”

“I don’t think my dream self thought that far,” Yan said. “First Sandreas’, I guess. Or maybe my friend would give me hers.”

“Friend?”

“Just someone from the Academy,” Yan said. “She works in the IKRB now. But we were going to live together, before I took this apprenticeship.”

Olms made a slight face, one that Yan couldn’t quite interpret the meaning of. “I had that kind of thought when I was first taking Ungarti’s apprenticeship,” Olms said. “Since I was living on his ship-- and the apprenticeship is supposed to be like family-- I considered asking my father if I should take the Vaneik name.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Oh, it would have upset my father. And I realized it was stupid, you know. If I want the Vaneik name, I should marry into the family, properly.”

“Oh.”

“Certainly Ungarti would like me to do that.”

“Really? Who?”

“His son, of course,” Olms said. “Wil.” And this expression, Yan could interpret: clear distaste.

Yan’s brow furrowed. “Doesn’t he get…?”

Olms laughed aloud. “Oh, I’ve told him to his face that he’d have more luck getting Nomar to marry his son than he would getting me to do it, but he doesn’t really understand. He says his father managed to keep a wife, after all.”

“I see,” Yan said. She had less desire to gossip about the former guildmaster than Olms did.

“Ungarti has complained to me on more than one occasion that he told First Sandreas to take a wife and look respectable, but he wouldn’t listen. It apparently grates on him to this day that Sandreas refused.”

“Why does he care?”

Olms hesitated for a second. “My master does not like to think that sensitives are in some way different from him. I think-- well, it doesn’t matter what I think-- but it’s why he was talked into taking apprentices, even though by all rights he shouldn’t have them, and why he wants First Sandreas to--” She shook her head. “His father had a wife to appease his grandfather, but he had a ‘friend’ in every port of call. Dealing with how much the Vaneik men want to live up to their father’s legacy is not a burden that I want to bear, and so I’m glad that I won’t be able to bring myself to marry Wil.”

“And your father?”

“My father tells me he is proud that I carry the Olms name, and will happily welcome me home when my apprenticeship is done.”

“You won’t stay with Guildmaster Vaneik?”

Olms’ smile was thin and sad. “This apprenticeship has been… I won’t say for nothing, because it has been valuable and enriching, and I’m sure when I return to my father, the doors of professional connections that it has opened to me will be worth quite a lot. But when I accepted it, I accepted it knowing that there was no way that someone whom Ungarti considered an Imperial puppet would ever become his chosen successor, and I accepted it knowing that I would be missing out on the connection of a true apprenticeship. Ungarti is many things to me, but he is not, and never will be, a sensitive.” Olms paused. “I’m rather jealous of you, actually.”

“I’m sorry,” Yan said.

“It’s fine.” Olms smiled. “I’ll become a captain, someday. That will more than make up for all of this.”

Yan nodded. “I’ll be jealous of you, then,” she said.

“Good,” Olms said. She spun Yan under her arm in the next dance step. “By the way, Ungarti wants to talk to you.”

“About what?” Yan asked. This conversation with Olms had been pleasant enough, but she was suddenly nervous about speaking to the Guildmaster. She wondered if Sandreas would even want her to do such a thing.

“If I’m being honest with you, Yan,” Olms said, “I’m sure he’s going to try to convince you to be a Guild puppet, to make up for how everyone considers Nomar and I to be Imperial puppets.”

“Are you?” Yan asked. She looked again at the fact that Olms, despite being a sensitive, was not wearing a cassock.

“God, no,” Olms said with a laugh. “Life would be a lot easier if I was.”

“What should I do?”

“You’re asking me for advice, Yan? That seems dangerous. But just go talk to him. He doesn’t bite, I promise.”

“Okay,” Yan said. “If he really wants to speak to me.”

“Good girl,” Olms said. Yan’s face heated up, and she stumbled on the next step of the dance.

Olms had told Yan that Vaneik would be waiting for her outside, in the garden that adjoined the large hall. Like the courtyard Yan had been in before, this part of Stonecourt was built with privacy in mind, and even though it was well lit from hanging lanterns overhead, greenery obscured the sightlines and muffled conversations. Yan didn’t doubt that there were probably cameras and microphones hidden everywhere, but it gave conversations an aura of secrecy, which made people more likely to talk, even when they shouldn’t.

At the very least, she was glad to step out into the cool night air from the hot and bright hall. She tugged at the collar of her cassock as she walked, trying to cool down. She had wanted to speak with Sandreas, to ask his permission to talk to Vaneik, before she headed out, but she hadn’t been able to get his attention, as he had been deep in what looked like a very fraught conversation with the governor of Jenjin. So, Yan had been forced to use her best judgement and just head outside.

Not sure where Vaneik actually was, Yan cast her power out around herself, searching for him. She could feel clusters of other people talking in the garden, but knew that Vaneik was supposed to be alone, so she headed towards the single spark she found, the one that didn’t feel like it had a touch of the power on it. There was someone else headed in that direction, and though Yan didn’t recognize the sense, the fact that they were behind her made her think that this was another one of the ‘watchers’ Halen had set on her. She gritted her teeth and ignored it as she headed towards Vaneik.

He was sitting on a bench underneath a tree, holding a glass of wine loosely in his hand, staring up at the stars above, though only the few brightest ones were visible through the haze of the party lights.

“Guildmaster,” Yan said, startling him out of his reverie.

“Oh, Apprentice BarCarran,” he said. “I’m glad you could make it. Yuuni told you where to find me, I assume.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Please, take a seat.”

He moved so that she could sit on the bench, and she did, somewhat gingerly. His face was half-obscured in the darkness.

“How have you been enjoying your apprenticeship with Aymon,” Vaneik asked.

“I’ve only been in it for a few weeks, sir,” Yan said. “I don’t think I’ve had much of a chance to form an opinion, especially since he hasn’t taken us anywhere official.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll see plenty of the official duties soon enough, now that you’ve been introduced to the public,” Vaneik said. “I’m asking what you think of him.”

“Why do you ask, sir?”

“Social curiosity,” he said. “I’ll admit that Aymon and I have never gotten along-- I’m sure you gathered that-- so I’m interested sometimes to hear what other people who work with him think of him. And, if you’ll pardon me, I think it would be easier to ask you that, spacer to spacer, than it would be to ask almost anyone else.”

“I’ve been told that I’m not a spacer anymore,” Yan said.

“And who told you that?”

She hesitated. “The pirate.”

Vaneik let out a long laugh. “Oh, I do not envy you one whit,” he said. “That man gives me the creeps. I don’t understand why Aymon has kept him around as long as he has.”

“I think because he trusts him,” Yan said. “He’s strong, at least.”

“The last thing I’d want by my side is a strong pirate. I’m glad I don’t have to be around him much, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Yan said.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Vaneik said.

“Sorry, sir,” Yan said.

“And don’t let the pirate tell you you’re not a spacer anymore. There’s some things that stick with you, even when you’re not in space.” He looked at her. “Your family legacy is a lot more important outside your home than in it, you know.”

Yan didn’t know what to say to that, so she just said, “Yes, sir.”

“You want to do your family proud, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I know you do.”

“May I say something, Guildmaster?”

“Of course, Apprentice.”

“I hope you aren’t trying to set me against First Sandreas, here.”

Vaneik’s mouth twitched in a smile. “Setting you against Aymon is the last thing on my mind. I think it’s in everyone’s best interest that you get along with him very well.”

“Why?”

“So that you become his successor, of course. I would not want to do anything that would jeopardize that.”

“You must understand that being favored by you already puts me in conflict--”

“Nonsense,” Vaneik said. “It’s only natural that the First has some favoritism for the place they come from. Certainly Aymon favors Lonn, and your compatriots, Apprentice Welslak and Apprentice Mejia, they’d favor Galena and Hanthue--”

“Kino isn’t from Hanathue,” Yan said suddenly.

“No?” Vaneik raised an eyebrow. “Where’s she from, then?”

“Falmar.”

“Is she indeed?”

“So, Guildmaster, you might have just as easy of a time convincing Apprentice Mejia to be your friend as you would convincing me.” She was aware that she was being listened to, either by the hidden microphones, or by the watcher who had been set over her, so Yan wanted to make it very clear that she was not going to be swayed into doing any favors for the Guildmaster. She cast her power out around herself, trying to feel where her watcher was hiding, and how much exactly she should be projecting.

There. Right behind those bushes, and coming closer. Maybe this person was going to extract Yan from this situation. She tensed up, expecting to perhaps be yelled at.

“I’m not trying to convince you of--”

It was only the fact that Yan was already looking in the direction of the intruder, knowing that they were approaching, that she saw the gun. Her eyes latched onto it, and she thought of nothing, all of a sudden, except the swelling of the power beneath her fingertips, and the power structure that Halen had drilled into her mind for the past few weeks fell into place before her. She leapt to her feet, throwing her hands up as though to physically block the attack, though it was her power that sang in her mind to do it, forming a wall between herself and the intruder.

The man, dressed in the uniform of the Stonecourt wait staff, aimed the gun squarely at Guildmaster Vaneik and fired. But Yan had her power structure in place before the man pulled the trigger, and time felt slow and soupy as the bullet sank into her shield, glowing with heat as its energy bled away, and dropped to the floor.

Vaneik had enough of a chance to react, now, and he, like any true spacer, reached into his jacket and withdrew a knife as he jumped for the man. Yan wouldn’t be able to move her shield to protect him easily, so she did the first thing she thought of, which was to take the power and rip the gun out of the assassin’s hands as Vaneik swung his knife in a great slash. The gun sailed into Yan’s hands.

The assassin tried to run, but Vaneik was on him, then, his greater height giving him a massive advantage. Yan didn’t know what to do, so she did the only thing she could do, which was to scream, “Halen!” making the sound echo and boom through the air, audible far over the noise of the party and cutting through the foliage of the garden like it was nothing.

She ran towards the Guildmaster and the assassin, who were now wrestling on the ground, the assassin having produced his own small knife, trying to stab it into Vaneik’s eyes with one hand, while keeping his throat from being cut with the other.

“Guildmaster, stop!” Yan yelled. She used the power to pull the knife from the assassin’s hand again, and she winced when the blade slipped across his fingers. He was undeterred, and clawed at Vaneik’s face with his hand, leaving streaks of blood across the Guildmaster’s cheeks.

It was at this moment that Halen arrived at a run, and, as though it was nothing, Guildmaster Vaneik and the assassin flew apart, both trapped in the air. Halen’s power was on Yan’s body, too, and she couldn’t move, except that her fingers uncurled involuntarily from the gun in her hand, and it clattered to the stone ground. She could have cried with relief.