Heritage Of The Xandim

17

ABOUT FACE

The moment she heard her mother’s voice calling her, Brynne was out of bed with a bound. Though she hadn’t slept a wink, and the sky was still utterly dark beyond her curtains, she was much too excited to feel tired. Forming a ball of cool, bright magelight, the simplest of magic and the first spell her mother had ever taught her, she thought of all the wonderful, advanced and complex magic she would soon be learning at the great and far-famed Academy in the city of Tyrineld.

Brynne couldn’t wait to get there, though her longing was tinged with a little trepidation. She certainly had ability, so there had never been any real doubt of her acceptance, or so her doting parents had kept on telling her, but she had spent all of her sixteen years living on a remote farm halfway between the city and the frontier, and had never had anyone but her mother and father to measure herself against. And her parents weren’t especially talented.

Her father’s name was Shelgan. His powers were nothing special, and he had left the Academy and the city to become a farmer to the south-east of the frontier town of Nexis, near the coast. He had sufficient magic to help him raise wonderful crops from the difficult environment of the windswept downs, and that was more than enough for him. Her mother, Larann, was a Healer, and though she was quite competent enough to tender good, practical service to the nearby fishing village and her own farm settlement, not to mention its animals (which were a speciality of hers), she would never be outstanding. They were completely lacking in ambition; content in their own little niche and wanting no more. A baby girl had set the crown on their happiness, and when her burgeoning talents had startled and amazed them, they had felt the warmth of tremendous pride, mingled with a little sadness and dismay that one day they must lose her to Tyrineld and the Academy - not that they would ever have let their own feelings hold her back. Brynne was glad that they trusted her enough to let her go, but she knew she would miss them.

She would miss her room, too, she thought, glancing round the snug little chamber with the walls panelled in dark wood, which had been hers for as long as she could remember. There were some spaces today on those walls and in the bookshelves, for she would be taking her favourite pictures and books with her, and they were already packed. She ran a hand over the brightly coloured patchwork quilt her mother had made, on the soft, warm bed in which she had dreamed so many dreams of magic and success, then turned away to brush her hair in front of the mirror.

This is the last time I’ll do this, she thought, then snapped herself out of the nostalgic mood. Of course it isn’t. I’ll come back for holidays, for visits. Maybe when I’ve finished my studies, it’ll be my home again.

She knew in her heart that it wouldn’t.

How would she get on with the other students? Would she fit in? As an only child, she had never known the give and take of brothers and sisters. And there would be boys . . .

‘Pull yourself together, Brynne,’ she said out loud. ‘You’ve looked in the mirror often enough. Plump, plain, dull brown hair - you think you’ll need to bother about boys?’ She decided just to concentrate on her magic. Using her powers gave her such a thrill, and to think of developing them, working with them, seeing them grow day by day . . . Who needed anything more?

Suddenly the serious face in the mirror broke into a smile, and the happy sparkle returned to those thoughtful dark grey eyes. She had wanted this, worked for this, dreamed of this for so long. These megrims at parting from her home and parents were only natural, for she would be leaving her childhood behind in every sense, but it was time to put them away and look to the brilliant future that she hoped would await her.

At that moment Mora, the family’s human servant, entered the room carrying a cup of steaming taillin. ‘What, up already?’

‘I was too excited to sleep,’ Brynne confessed.

‘Well, my lovely,’ she said, in the lilting local dialect of the north-western coast, ‘’tis hardly surprising. This is your big day at last. How time does gallop by. Why, it seems no time since . . .’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll miss my precious girl, I will. I’ll miss you very much.’

Brynne opened her mouth to snap at the old woman, then shut it again with a sigh. Time seemed to have stopped for Mora when she, Brynne, was about three years old, she thought ruefully. But there was no point in causing strife and upsets on today of all days. It wouldn’t change anything, anyway. Instead she hugged the servant, nearly sending the tea flying. ‘I’ll miss you too, Mora.’

When Mora had left, Brynne drank her taillin as quickly as she could manage without scalding her tongue, and turned to get dressed. She had chosen her clothes with care - she had a whole new wardrobe for the trip - and had laid them out ready the night before, so it didn’t take long. Then, with one last look around the room, she ran downstairs.

The spattering sizzle and mouth-watering smell of frying bacon greeted her as she entered the kitchen. Her mother Larann, her brown hair escaping in straggles, as usual, from its knot and her normally pale complexion flushed pink from the heat of the stove, turned to her with a smile. ‘There you are, punctual as always. I’ve done you two eggs this morning, Brynne - a good breakfast will set you up for your long journey.’

Brynne knew her mother was hiding a tumultuous mixture of emotions behind a mask of briskness. She glanced down at her waistline with a sigh. That was the thing about Larann: she firmly believed that good food was a panacea for everything from a broken leg to a broken heart. And because they were farmers, there was always plenty of good food around.

Well, maybe it would be different when she got to Tyrineld. Surely no one there would be telling her what she should and shouldn’t be eating, and continually cajoling her to have more. In the meantime, she meant to enjoy her last delicious farm breakfast. While she was eating, her father Shelgan came in, chafing his hands against the early morning chill. ‘Well, that’s it, my Lady.’ His florid bow to Brynne made her smile. ‘We’ve harnessed the horses and the men have loaded all your gear into the cart. As soon as you’ve finished eating, we’ll be ready to go.’ His plump face (she definitely got her stocky figure from her father’s side of the family) was glowing with exertion and beaming with pride at his daughter who was on her way to the Academy.

‘Let the girl eat her breakfast in peace,’ Larann protested. ‘What about some more bacon, Brynne? Shall I toast you another slice of bread? Would you like another cup of taillin? What about you, Shel? Shall I pour you a cup?’

Father and daughter exchanged a wry and sympathetic glance. They both knew very well that Larann was putting off the moment of departure with every ruse at her disposal. Decisively, Brynne pushed her plate away and got to her feet. ‘Thank you, but I couldn’t eat another thing. You’re right, Dad. It’s time we were going.’

She didn’t cry when she said goodbye to Mora or the farm workers. She didn’t cry when she said goodbye to her mother. But when it came to saying goodbye to the two dogs, Bracken and Bramble, and Moon the silver-grey cat, Brynne could not stem her tears. They would not understand why she had to go - they would only know that she was gone and miss her. And Bramble was so old now. Would he still be there the next time she returned?

Once she and her father were on their way, however, and the farm had vanished behind them over the brow of the hill, Brynne’s excitement came to the fore once again. Tucking away her handkerchief, she turned to Shelgan with a grin. ‘You’ve always said you would teach me to drive the cart when I was older. What better time than now?’

Shelgan grinned back at her and put the reins into her hands. ‘What better time indeed?’

They travelled steadily southwards, not hurrying, camping as they went. Brynne enjoyed those last few precious days with her father: sleeping in the cart at night, well wrapped in cloak and blanket; cooking some truly horrible meals over a campfire; talking over all sorts of inconsequentialities. The morning of the fourth day, however, would be the last of their journey, and as soon as she awakened, Brynne’s mind turned firmly towards the future.

What would it be like to live in the great city of the Wizardfolk, after coming from the tiny, self-contained world of a remote and isolated farm? Though she had been to Tyrineld once before, in the early part of the year, to complete the tests and assessments for her entry to the Academy, the nervousness and strain of that visit, one that would determine her entire future, had turned her recollections of the city into a bewildering blur of buildings, faces and magic. She was looking forward to seeing it again; now, when she would have the time and inclination to appreciate its beauty, and learn its ways and secrets.

Her one clear memory was reaching Tyrineld on a crisp, clear, brilliantly sunny winter’s morning, and coming over the crest of the hill to see the magnificent city embracing the crystalline blue ocean, its intricate buildings gleaming white in the sunlight, and its glittering towers reaching, like her own dreams and ambitions, for the sky.

Always, in her imagination, Brynne had pictured herself returning to see that same vista. Looking down on the beautiful city where anything was possible, and knowing that it would be her home. That final morning, however, she awoke to disappointment. The clouds were down, looming low over the countryside, creeping across the high moors at ground level to form a mantle of dank, impenetrable mist, and filling the air with a light precipitation that prickled on her skin.

Brynne emerged, tousled and sleepy, from her nest of blankets in the cart, and muttered a word that made her father raise his eyebrows. ‘Well, just look at this demons’ brew,’ she said crossly, in mitigation. ‘I was so looking forward to climbing that last hilltop and seeing the city all spread out before me like a promise. Now we’ll be lucky to find the blasted track. And instead of making a good impression, I’m going to arrive looking like a draggled refugee.’

‘All right, all right now.’ Shelgan put his arm around her shoulders. In the thickening of her voice he heard the sound of tears, suppressed but threatening to break loose, and he realised that Brynne, his bold, bright child who normally had the courage of ten Warriors, was far more nervous than she had admitted, even to herself. He lifted her chin with a finger. ‘There now, my love, don’t fret yourself. We’ll stop before we reach the city. I’ll use a drying spell on your hair, and you can change your clothes and spruce up a bit. And who knows, maybe this weather will have lifted by the time we get there, and you’ll see your city after all.’

Brynne directed a scathing glance towards the soggy, dark-grey shroud that smothered their surroundings. ‘And I’ll sprout wings like one of the Skyfolk, and fly to Tyrineld,’ she retorted pithily, but by making her realise just what a jittering mess her nerves were in, he had put the stiffening back into her spine. Suddenly she felt much better, and gave him a hug and a grin. ‘Come on, Dad, it’s your turn to make breakfast this morning.’

After a few days of practice, their campfire cooking was beginning to improve, and this time the bacon was only slightly burned. They were just rounding off their meal with a cup of taillin, smoke-flavoured from the fire but very welcome on this chill, damp day, when the sudden sound of hoofbeats came drumming out of the mist. A horse burst through the roiling curtain of grey and bolted right between them, reins and stirrups flapping. It swerved to avoid the campfire and found itself boxed in between the cart, the stream beside which they had camped and Shelgan’s patient, tethered horses. Rolling its eyes, it skidded to a halt, ploughing up great clods of turf, but the presence of the other beasts seemed to calm it, and Brynne’s father had little trouble catching hold of the broken, trailing rein.

‘Well, well.’ He stroked the sweat-damp neck and ran an expert hand down the heaving flanks and trembling legs. ‘And where did you come from, my beauty? Grey as the weather itself, and a fine beast to boot with those pretty dapples. It doesn’t seem to be hurt,’ he added, speaking to his daughter now.

Brynne fed the animal a crust of bread left over from breakfast and it nuzzled into her hungrily, looking for more. ‘Looks like it tossed its rider and bolted,’ she said. ‘I wonder how far it’s come?’

Shelgan sighed. ‘I suppose I’ll have to go and look for the rider. We can’t leave someone out there alone and maybe hurt, especially not in this weather.’ He laid a hand on Brynne’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. ‘Don’t worry, love, hopefully this shouldn’t delay us too long. The way the beast was bolting, I doubt it’s come very far. It wouldn’t be able to sustain that sort of pace. You tether it to the cart and I’ll take one of our horses and backtrack along its trail - it left a line of prints in this wet ground that you could see a mile off. I’ll be back in no time, you’ll see.’

And before Brynne could object or offer to go with him, he had leapt bareback on one of the carthorses and vanished into the mist, leaving only an echo of thudding hoofbeats behind.

How could an entire city lose itself? Driven by her purpose, Chiannala had never once doubted that she would attain her goals, but now that sense of certainty had been leached away by her desolate, empty surroundings. For the first time, she began to wonder if she would ever reach Tyrineld. The journey had been far more difficult than she’d anticipated. An inexperienced traveller, she had not brought enough warm clothing, or anything to keep off the rain. She must have lost her gloves in the barn, and now her hands were white and numb, making her grip on the reins uncertain.

Chiannala’s stomach churned with hunger. She was chilled, wet through, weary, grubby, aching right down to her bones, and lost. On the first two nights of her journey she had been lucky: on the night she’d run away, there had been the comfortable barn where she’d changed horses, and on the second night, though the country was getting rougher and the area less populated, she had stumbled across a much smaller and less prosperous holding, where a root cellar had provided her with a temporary refuge, and some withered apples and carrots to eat.

Last night, however, she had not been so fortunate. Between Nexis and the outlying regions around Tyrineld was this wild, lonely stretch of hills where there was not even a tree to break the force of the unrelenting wind, and not a single building where she could seek refuge after sunset. She had tried to huddle at the edge of a thicket of whin that skirted the edge of the track, but when it had started to rain, she’d given up trying to rest. She might as well be cold, wet and moving, she decided, and mounted her reluctant horse once more. Getting the weary creature moving with an effort, she’d set off into the darkness.

Like an idiot, she must have been dozing when the horse wandered off the trail. When the sky reluctantly lightened to a sombre, clouded morning, Chiannala had found herself utterly lost, without any idea of the direction in which she should be headed. All day long she had been searching the lonely heights of the downs, but had never seen a trace of the road she was meant to be taking. To make matters worse, the terrain was growing increasingly rough and rocky, with spiny thickets of bramble and gorse that tore at her cloak to repeatedly thwart her progress, and more terrifyingly, stretches of glutinous bog covered with a green skin that made them look like innocent, solid ground - until an unwary horse took a step too far. The air was growing cooler against her face, and the thick, heavy cloud that darkened the sky seemed to be pressing ever lower upon her: a phenomenon that she initially ascribed to imagination, until she saw the far slopes of the hills fade and vanish into a misty haze.

Fog. The traveller’s foe. The horizon seemed to be shrinking around her as the walls of grey rolled in towards her: an inexorable tide that left her stranded on a tiny patch of thin turf, in the midst of a cold, white void. At first she tried to keep going, but strange shapes loomed at her out of the haze, and nothing was what it seemed. A boulder suddenly bounded away with a startled bleat; a stream was running in the opposite direction from all those she had previously encountered. Had she somehow been turned all the way around? Or had she crossed some kind of watershed? She had absolutely no idea. A seemingly solid stretch of ground began to ooze water as her horse’s hooves sank into it, and Chiannala backed hastily away from the bog, her heart beating fast with fright. This was no good. She would kill herself if she kept trying to move, and besides, what was the point when she had lost all sense of direction? It would be better to remain where she was.

She reined-in the horse and dismounted, looping the reins through her arm. The grey horse put his head down, hoping to find some grass long enough to graze. The minutes stretched interminably, with nothing to see but blank greyness and no sound to break the silence but her breathing and that of the horse, and the occasional bleat of a sheep. Though Chiannala had been very much alone on her journey, she had been too focused on reaching Tyrineld and the Academy of the Wizards to be lonely. In the fog, however, she felt desperately lost and isolated, longing for a kind word or a friendly face. She found herself thinking of the comfort of her mother’s arms and the reassurance of her father’s smile, and for the first time since leaving home, she did not think of them with anger and resentment.

As she waited in that eerie, silent world, all her worries, frustrations and discomforts gradually gave way to trepidation. As time crawled by, she began to wonder whether this cold, damp blankness that surrounded her would be gone by nightfall - and for the first time, she was beset by the gnawing fear that she might not survive.

It had all seemed so easy the night she had run away, any doubts overridden by anger, resentment and determination. All she had to do, she’d imagined, was follow the road. She had simply assumed that there would be inns, settlements and farms all the way to Tyrineld. Because her parents had been there to look after her all her life, she had taken it for granted that there would always be someone else to fill the gap. She had fled on the spur of the moment, instead of waiting long enough to formulate some kind of strategy, instead of taking the proper clothing and sufficient provisions - and, most important of all, finding out before she left about the route and the conditions she would meet.

What a stupid, naïve, reckless fool she had been, letting her anger overrule her common sense. If I get out of this, she vowed, it’ll never happen again. I’ll be controlled and dispassionate . . .

If you survive.

The warning voice of fear cut across her thoughts. How could she even get through the next few hours, let alone make it to Tyrineld?

Even if by some miracle she did reach the city, she was beginning to harbour serious doubts that her plan would succeed. Why should they take her into the Academy merely on the strength of her own word? They would be sure to want to know about her family, and why, at her age, she was travelling all alone. She would be forced to lie to them, of course - and she had a feeling that the Archwizard, not to mention all the powerful Wizards who taught at the Academy, would be very difficult to dupe. Whatever tale she spun them, it would be easy enough for them to investigate her background, and once the truth came out, she was finished.

Chiannala buried her face in her hands. Why had she even bothered to try? It looked as though her desperate plan to better herself and be welcomed into the ranks of the Wizardfolk was doomed before it had truly begun. Thanks to her accursed parents, she would never have the life she craved, and by running away she had managed to make things a thousand times worse. After stealing from her parents, how could she possibly go back there? Yet what was the alternative? It would be easiest for everyone if she were simply to die right here in this ghastly wilderness. No one would miss her. No one would mourn. What was the point of fighting her background and her fate any longer?

Suddenly, her horse gave a startled neigh. Half-rearing, snatching the reins away with a sickening wrench to her arm, the animal bolted, knocking her aside onto the muddy ground. A pang of horror wrenched at her guts. Without the horse, she had nothing. She would wander lost out here until she dropped from hunger, weariness and cold. For the first time in her young life, Chiannala faced the certain prospect of her death. In that instant she forgot she’d just decided her life was no longer worth living. Stricken, helpless, terrified, everything in her life gone to wrack and ruin, she lay in the mud and sobbed.

‘Ho there!’ The voice echoed through the fog. ‘Ho, is anybody out there?’

Chiannala was so stunned by thankfulness that, speechless, she lost those first few vital seconds.

‘Ho,’ the voice came again. This time it sounded further away.

Panic restored her voice. ‘Help,’ she yelled, as loud as she could. She scrambled to her feet. ‘Here - I’m over here.’

It took them a good while to find each other, in spite of all the shouting back and forth, but finally, a dim shape materialised through the fog, and Chiannala stumbled, weeping, into the arms of a tall, portly man with a weathered face and a kindly smile. ‘There now, there. No need for tears, little maid.’ He patted her shoulder. ‘You’re safe now.’

Half an hour later, Chiannala was ensconced comfortably in the back of a wagon, wrapped in blankets, with a half-devoured chicken leg in one hand and a mug of warm taillin laced with honey in the other. As she felt warmth and strength creeping back into her body, her fighting spirit began to return, although she still had no idea what she was going to do, or how she would face the future.

Her rescuers were already starting to make her sick. She despised this smiling, pie-faced moron who had, by his own admission, thrown away all the opportunities that she yearned for to become a farmer, grubbing in the dirt like some common human. And as for his stupid, beaming lump of a daughter, who wouldn’t stop chattering on and on like a bloody magpie about going to the Academy - Chiannala dearly longed to throttle her. She barely knew this girl, but she already loathed her for having everything she should have had - would have had - if her idiot father had possessed the common decency to wed one of his own kind instead of a common slave.

Then they started prying. Who are you? How did you come to be lost on the moor? Where are you going? How did a young girl come to be travelling all alone? There was no end to their questions.

Chiannala responded with the story she’d made up as she travelled from Nexis. Though she’d begun to doubt that it would pass muster with the Archwizard, she was sure it would fool these two innocent peasants. She told them that her name was Estella. Her mother had died when she was born, and grief had driven her father to become an anchorite - a solitary Wizard who dwelt alone, away out in the wilds, to study and perfect his art. Then, just when he was going to bring her to the Academy, he too had died of a fever. The poor orphan, with no other family to turn to, was heading to Nexis to beg desperately for admittance to the Academy.

They swallowed it whole. Of course they did. She knew she could be very convincing when she chose, and now, with her future at stake, there was everything to play for. The victory was almost too easy, and as she bathed in their kindness and sympathy, Chiannala began to believe that she might actually get away with her tale when she reached Tyrineld. Then the horrible daughter uttered the words that brought all her hopes crashing down in ruins.

‘But at least you’ve been to Tyrineld before, right? It won’t be completely strange to you. If you’re coming to the Academy, you must have passed the tests and assessments.’

Tests? Assessments? Panic clawed at Chiannala’s throat. Her father had never mentioned this! Why would he need to? she thought bitterly. He never meant me to go to the Academy.

What could she do now? She had told her lie to these people and now she was committed. With a gargantuan effort, she swallowed her shock and dismay, and pasted a smile onto her face. ‘Why yes, of course,’ she replied in bright, brittle tones. ‘But I was so nervous, it’s all just a blur to me now. I can’t remember a single useful thing about the place.’

‘Oh, me neither,’ the girl - Brynne - said fervently. ‘For all I can recall of my last visit, Tyrineld might as well be the moon.’ She tucked her hand through Chiannala’s arm in a companionable way. ‘Still, at least now we’ll each have someone we know when we get there. Maybe we can be friends.’

For a moment, some lonely part of Chiannala’s soul that had been stunted and withered by the half-blood that had set her apart from everyone she knew bloomed and yearned towards this kindly, friendly girl. Then she remembered that Brynne had come so easily to everything for which she, Chiannala, so desperately yearned, and the bitterness and bile rose up to choke her once more.

Again she forced the smile back to her face. ‘Why, that would be wonderful, Brynne. I’d love to have you for a friend.’

I hate you, you little bitch. You have everything that should have been mine. I wish you were dead, and that I could take it all.

Chiannala was shocked by the violence of her own thought, yet, as they drew ever closer to Tyrineld, her mood became increasingly desperate. What would she do when she got there? What could she do? She had passed no tests - the Academy would be closed to her now. Even if she were to apply immediately, it would be months before the next student intake. How could she possibly live in the meantime? And these assessments - would they reveal her mortal heritage? Surely they must.

By midday they had reached the road that ran along the coast. Shelgan steered the wagon across to the side of the track and halted. ‘We may as well stop here for a bite to eat, girls,’ he said. ‘We still have plenty of time to reach the city before nightfall.’ He beamed at Brynne and Chiannala. ‘It will give you young ladies a chance to spruce yourselves up a little, before you make your big entrance.’

While Shelgan put a quick drying spell on a patch of turf so that they could sit down comfortably, and Brynne rummaged in the back of the wagon for bread and cheese, Chiannala’s mind was working furiously, searching desperately for a way out of her dilemma.

Then Brynne gave her the answer, by handing her a mirror. ‘Here you are, Estella. You might as well use this while I’m getting the food ready.’

Chiannala dug her comb from her pack and looked at the flawless reflection in the mirror. All that work to give herself this new and lovely face would be wasted now that she could no longer go to the Academy. She might as well not have bothered. Her reflection blurred as tears began to gather in her eyes.

Then, without warning, it slid into her mind. An idea so appalling that it dried her tears and drained all the blood from her face. But once it had surfaced, it would not leave her. A chance. Her only chance. Her entire future was at stake. She thought about the Chimera spell. Looked at Brynne. Shuddered. Doubted.

Can I do it? Could I? Am I capable of such an act?

You are. You must be.

It had to be now, or she would never find the nerve again. This one opportunity would slip by, and her life would be ruined for ever. She glanced around at Shelgan putting nosebags on the horses, at Brynne laying out bread and cheese, at the clusters of tall gorse bushes that dotted the edge of the cliff. ‘Brynne, could you help me, please?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking. ‘I want to change my dress and it’s much easier - not to mention neater - if someone else ties the laces.’

The plump girl beamed. ‘Of course I will. I want to get changed myself. But why not wait until after we’ve eaten? Then we won’t mess up our good clothes by sitting on the ground.’

A plague on the wretched girl! Chiannala ground her teeth in frustration. Yet how could she argue with such a sensible suggestion?

Luckily, they put her inability to eat down to nervousness about entering the Academy, though it certainly didn’t seem to be affecting Brynne in that way, Chiannala thought irritably. Would they never stop eating, father and daughter? No wonder the girl was the size of a plough-horse. It never crossed her mind for a single instant that the two of them were trying to garner as many last precious moments together in each other’s company as they possibly could.

At last, however, Shelgan got up with a sigh. ‘We’d best be getting on,’ he said. ‘I’ll clear this stuff away and get the horses ready, while you girls are putting on your finery.’

They retrieved their bags from the cart and Chiannala, her heart beating fast, pointed to the place she had chosen. ‘Those bushes over there should hide us from anyone passing on the road.’

‘All right,’ Brynne said easily. ‘Over there it is.’

There was only a narrow space between the bushes and the cliff edge. ‘Goodness,’ Brynne said. ‘Do you think this is safe?’

‘Don’t be such a goose,’ Chiannala retorted sharply. ‘Of course it’s safe, if we take care. Come on, help me out of my dress, then I’ll help you out of yours.’

Brynne, clearly stung by the scathing tones, said nothing, her mouth set in a tight line as she helped her companion undress down to her chemise, then turned around so that Chiannala could do the same for her. As soon as her back was turned, Chiannala triggered the chimera spell that she had been preparing in her mind. In a way, it was easier this time, since she had done it before, but this time, she had her whole body to transform. It only took a moment, but before she was done she was trembling with exhaustion.

‘Hurry up, Estella,’ Brynne prompted. ‘We don’t have all day.’

‘Sorry.’ Hastily Chiannala pulled herself together and loosened the laces. Brynne stepped out of the dress, turned - and her mouth fell open in shock at the sight of herself standing there.

‘I’m sorry, Brynne. Truly sorry,’ Chiannala said - and pushed. It was all too easy. Yet she knew that Brynne’s scream, cut off so horribly as she hit the churning water below, would stay with her to the end of her days.

‘What happened? Brynne, are you all right?’ As Shelgan burst through the bushes, she hurled herself into his arms. ‘Dad, oh Dad,’ she sobbed. ‘Estella slipped. She was messing about, looking over the edge - and then she was gone. She fell off the cliff, Dad. Estella is gone.’

And my way to the Academy is open at last.