Chapter 5B

Phillip was sitting in the common when Siska entered the house with the last rays of sunlight chasing her through the doorway. He had his feet propped up on a little footstool and was puffing on a long pipe of ivory, with silver inlay.

"Well, did you have a good time?" he asked, folding the wide tome he held in his lap and holding a place with one finger.

"Good enough," said Siska, wondering how to broach the subject of tomorrow morning. "May I ask a small favor?" The way she emphasized small made him sure she did not think it was truly such.

"You may ask," said Phillip, raising an eyebrow and pulling the pipe from his teeth.

"I agreed to meet a - friend - in the market for tea tomorrow morning," she said.

"Of course, you can go," said Phillip, grinning like a boy of twelve. It annoyed Siska that he seemed to know all there was about it, though upon consideration, he probably knew all about that sort of thing. He was not a young man. "However, you will have to complete an exercise before going," he said, almost apologetically. "And your chores."

Siska nodded, but smiled, still. "I understand," she said, trying to sound serious. "I'll go make supper."

"No need," said Phillip. "I've been invited to a late dinner at the Tarmal's home."

"The counsilor?" askes Siska, remembering the younger man from the meeting in the home of the order.

"Yes," said Phillip, taking her wicker basket and setting it on a chair. Siska, however, picked it back up and carried it to the kitchen.

"That's how messes get started, just setting things down where they may lie," she said over her shoulder as she put it in the pantry, pulling out the dress and draping it over her arm.

Phillip donned an impatient look as she tromped up the stairs to hang the dress then returned, carrying her tiny double in her hands. "She was trying to get at some coins in my nightstand," said Siska glowering at her homunculi, who looked livid with rage.

"I told you," said Phillip, chuckling. He fished out a copper penny from his pouch and handed it to the tiny Siska, who brightened instantly and scurried off as soon as Siska sat her down. Somehow, the little Siska's robes had gotten torn and Siska thought she would have to get her some clothes, unless she wished to unsummon her and create a new one. Phillip had warned her against that, though.

Despite his obvious impatience, Siska took a moment to set out some cheese and grapes for little Siska, on a small plate, meant for a teacup, and a tiny cup of water, drawn earlier from Phillip's well. She left them where little Siska was sure to find them, near the stairs.

Phillip was still waiting by the door, holding two nondescript gray cloaks, trimmed with broad stripes of powder blue at hem and sleeves. She almost complained about wearing a cloak until he opened the door and a gust of wind, with the smell of rain upon it, wafted in.

The islands were prone to rains just after sunset, when the cooling lands sucked moisture out off of the ocean around them and dropped it onto them. At least, that was what she had been told by her mother.

Tonight was no exception, and soon it was drizzling a cool, but light rainfall that simply wetted the streets but was not heavy enough to form running rivulets of water.

Siska still could not quite come to grips with the idea of walking these open streets. Up until the day of her auction, she had spent every moment of her life within the walls of Mistress Tomasina's estates. Those estates had been large, almost fifteen acres, but they had definitely formed a world with boundaries.

Despite forcing herself to go out alone, and despite her fears of that, she could manage it. Going with another to guide her was easier, by far, and she wondered how long it would take her to become comfortable without an escort.

Phillip paused, looking back at her. She had fallen behind two paces, and drifted to his left hand side. "Siska, you must walk beside me, else folk will think it odd," he said.

She blinked at him, coming free of her reverie. "Sorry," she said, jogging a few steps to catch him up. "It's just automatic, I guess."

"I suppose a habit like that is hard to break," said Phillip, crooking his arm and inviting her to put her own through the loop. She did so, and smiled.

"Perhaps a lifetime," said Siska, giving him a weak smile.

The evening rains drove everyone indoors for a while, unless they had other business to tend. Most people took it as a chance to sit down, prepare, and eat a leisurely dinner. Tressen had a bustling night-life, most nights, and they would emerge from their homes after the rains to carouse, meet, and entertain themselves as best they could.

They had crossed a goodly portion of the city, and Siska noted a definite saltiness to the air, telling her they were near to the bay. "He lives on the water?" she asked. "I thought only warehouses and merchants dwelled here."

"Tarmal likes the water," said Phillip. "He owns a small ship, though he only sails it occasionally, himself." They were turning off the main avenue, which seemed to terminate at the very docks upon the waterfront.

Tarmal's home was a bare cube of stone, fourty feet to a side and four stories high. The ground story held no windows, nor, even a door. A set of stairs ascended at the edge of the house, narrow stairs, only one person at a time could come up them, and at the top, there was only a landing large enough for two people to stand.

Siska could not shake the feeling that this was meant to be a small fortress of some sort, the stairs seemed very defensible. Also, the windows were narrow, too narrow for all but the very slimmest of young boys or girls to slip through, almost like an arrow slit.

Phillip knocked upon the door with the leering gargoyle that was the brass knocker upon the door's middle. "This used to be the tax assessor's offices, back before the new building went up," said Phillip. "Apparently, tax riots used to be a common occurrence."

A moment later, the door was pulled open, the face of the middle-aged wizard peering out over his trimmed beard. "Phillip, Siska, welcome," he said in a jovial tone. Warmth poured forth from the doorway and Siska found herself sweating as soon as she entered, at least until she shed the cloak. The entry room was also the common area, from appearances. A wide fireplace dominated the far wall from the door, and a staircase spiraled up and down at the right wall. Most of the room was taken up by a large table, though, and a long cabinet along the left wall.

A woman bustled at the cabinet, obviously preparing food. "Phillip, you already know Salira," he said. "Salira, dear, this is Siska, the apprentice I spoke of."

The woman turned to greet them, wiping her hands on a white apron. She was pretty, if a bit plump, and had a welcoming smile. "Hello, Phillip, it is nice to see you again," she said, then turned her hazel eyes on to Siska. "Nice to meet you, Siska."

"And you, Mistress Salira," said Siska, giving the woman a slight curtsey.

As soon as she had pulled her arms free of the cloak, Phillip had snatched it from her and hung it upon a peg inside the door. "I'll see if Mistress Salira needs any assistance," she said, and moved toward the long cabinet.

Phillip turned to Tarmal. "You've not asked me to dinner in many months, Tarmal," he said. "Why the sudden interest?" His eyes turned toward Siska, already speaking to Salira and tying a second apron about her slim waist.

"Of course it's about her," said Tarmal, shrugging. "You don't expect me to pass up any chance to see someone more closely of that sort of power, do you?"

"Just so you don't get any ideas," said Phillip. "I'll not have another student taken from me."

Tarmal blushed slightly at that comment. "You know that wasn't my idea," he said.

"You did not help much to stop it, either, did you?" asked Phillip.

"Phillip, damn it, I'm your friend," protested Tarmal. "I was newly elevated, myself, I had no clout. And to throw myself behind a doomed cause then would have simply gotten me into hot water."

Phillip bristled now, though, and seemed incapable of being soothed. "And we lost him, didn't we?" he asked. "That damned Templar came into Tressen, filled the lad's head with pretty words and sweet honey and took him away."

"You know that won't happen with Siska," said Tarmal, his expression darkening. "We won't allow it."

"Allow it?" said Phillip, loudly enough to cause both women to look toward the speaking men. "How could you stop it?" he added, after dropping his voice back to a whisper.

Tarmal shrugged. "I don't know, but we know we could not let her fall into Theocracy hands," he said. "She might tip the balance of power in the isles."

"I'm hoping that she bloody well will," grated Phillip, his teeth clenched in a forced smile. "In our favor."

"Then we're agreed," said Tarmal, "and have no reason to argue."

Salira was carrying a platter of sliced beef toward the table, with Siska carrying a bowl of some steamed vegetables right behind her. "Dinner, gentlemen, if you can pull your heads out of order business," said Salira lightly.

Phillip had no doubt she heard every word, or at least knew exactly what they had been arguing about. He moved toward the table and pulled out a chair for Siska. She blinked at him a moment before allowing herself to be seated.

Phillip reminded himself to make sure she received some instruction on etiquette soon.

"Not as if you never dabbled in order politics, Salira," said Phillip, giving her a mischievous grin.

"I do not anymore, though," said Salira haughtily. "I will remain an auxiliary member, but I will not hold any office in the order, any longer."

"You're a wizard?" asked Siska, forgetting herself and widening her eyes.

"Yes, dear," said Salira, smiling patiently. "I used to practice the arts more than I do now, but it lots its appeal to me, in part."

"How?" asked Siska, her voice rising with incredulity.

Salira smiled patiently again, turning her hazel eyes on Siska. "I've suffered one too many backlashes, dear," she said. "It makes one hesitant to go boldly forth."

Phillip kept his eyes conspicuously down over his plate of steamed potatoes and beef and even Tarmal shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"The men don't like to admit that magic is not for the faint of heart, and that failure, even that which is survived, can cause one to wish to hold back," said Salira, despite the nervous looks from the two men. "I can still work magic," she said, more happily. "But I cannot bring myself to force the matter, to channel through my own limits and reach forth to take the power I need to do more powerful magics."

"Phillip tells me not to force myself beyond that which is easy," said Siska. "He says it's risky."

"It is, dear, it is," said Salira. "Some mages lose their ability to work magic if the backlash is harsh enough."

Tarmal lifted his head. "We think Siska's limits may be high indeed, Salira," he said, trying to force some joviality into his words. "She may be the most powerful wizard we've seen in centuries."

Salira looked at him levelly. "All the more reason for her to exercise care, then, no?" she asked. "If she makes a mistake, channeling so much energy, surely the backlash will be catastrophic."

Siska blinked, sudden fear marking her face. Salira seemed to note it. "Look, Siska, I am not trying to frighten you, but the men often underrate the danger inherent in touching mana," she said. "I don't want you going forth with any false senses of security."

Phillip nodded. "Perhaps we do, but backlash is part of magic, and a danger we must face to practice the arts."

"I'm not trying to talk the lass out of becoming a wizard, Phillip, just telling her to be cautious," snapped Salira.

Siska thought a long moment. "I'll be cautious," she said. "I've seen Mentor Phillip's scars from backlash." The livid, barely-scabbed over scars running across his chest and stomach made her wince, even covered.

"I hear she can summon a homunculous, already," said Tarmal.

This caused Salira to blink at her. "In but three days?" she asked.