Ellian knew that he was luckier than most of the rootless, friendless refugees who had fled to Bahliefa. Davria, his best friend's older sister, had a kind and generous spirit. Once she heard that Ellian had made it, she nearly dragged Ellian from Dae's home beneath Dae's amused gaze. She had been indignant at the fact that her little brother's best friend had no place to call home, and though startled, Ellian was too practical to protest when she decided to lodge him in her own small abode.

Her cottage had four rooms: a kitchen/dining room, a bedroom, a small sitting room, and a bathroom, decorated by charms great and small which she had woven herself. Charms were her contribution to Bahliefa, and while her mage-gift was not the greatest, it came in quite handy for those who wanted an easy childbirth, or a bit of an increase in luck, or the affection of a certain man or woman.

Without being asked, she had enchanted a pendant for him, which hung around his neck on a thin rope. It was small and meticulously carved in the shape of a whorled S. Davria had said with the utmost seriousness that the fluidity of the design contributed to the enchantment, which was one of Happiness.

Simply happiness.

Ellian was glad that Davria was a good enough reader of people to ascertain that there was nothing he wanted more. He was tired of adventure.

He paid her back for her kindness in tales. Davria was an avid listener, and Ellian was glad that the year he had passed had some usefulness to someone after all.

"So after ducking into the doorway of the nearest tavern, I quickly knocked the nearest person to me unconscious with the heavy piece of timber in my hand. I didn't really want to." Ellian looked at Davria regretfully. "And I felt bad for the poor man, truly I did. But it was either me or him. You understand?"

Davria, fascinated, nodded. The sunlight glinted off of the auburn tints in her hair. "Go on, go on!"

"So I donned the man's clothing. The tavern was sweaty and disreputable, and no one noticed," Ellian continued as they walked across the field, stopping occasionally for Davria to pick her herbs. "My face was already covered in dirt, and it would have been hard to smell worse than I did -- my last bath had been about three weeks ago," he admitted, making a face. "When the Reskinikinians burst into the tavern, all they saw was another hulking mountain of stinking flesh."

Davria looked at him hard. "Ellian, you are to a hulking mountain as Quintillian is to Dae." Quintillian was a mage so sparsely gifted that Dae had only let him in after some major thought.

"I was in Werkogtia," Ellian said defensively. "The clothing they wear is made out of the hides of dead giants, I swear. At least, it smells like it. It was so incredibly heavy I thought I was going to suffocate for a few seconds there."

"Okay, okay. Then what?"

"'Then what?'" Ellian echoed incredulously. "Davria, being chased by Reskinikinian racketeers straight up into Werkogtia and escaping notice momentarily by slipping into what felt like the full skin of a buffalo isn't exciting enough for you?"

"Well, were you safe afterwards?" Davria asked as she picked a delicate pale green fern.

Ellian sighed. "The racketeers tipped off the officials of the city I was in, Yyrkigni. So I then had a bunch of experienced Yyrkigni mage- hunters after me in addition to a bunch of wrathful con-men. I hardly slept, and I damn well stocked up on my nullish weapons. I've lost the knives since, which is a pity. Davria, just think of whatever adventure story you like, add urban grime, multiply by two hundred, and you'll know what happened to me."

"But did they ever stop chasing you?" Davria inquired.

"If you must know, the Yyrkigni let go of the trail once I crossed into the next city-state, but the racketeers -- damned Reskinikinian persistence! -- chased me straight into Amasuel. I had to get rid of the Reskinikinians or I was going to get in real trouble, so I--" Ellian flushed suddenly and fell silent. "Never mind."

"Oh, no," Davria protested, the wicker basket of herbs forgotten in her hands. "You must tell me!"

"No," Ellian said emphatically. A brisk wind caused him to pull his cloak tighter about himself.

"Ellian," Davria groaned, "you can't just start a story and refuse to tell the ending!"

A gust of wind ruffled Ellian's short brown hair. "Yes I can."

"Ellian!"

"I'd rather not talk about it, to be really honest," Ellian stated. "I think you've got all the herbs you'll need for the next year, anyway. Let's go inside."

To get rid of the Reskinikinians, Ellian had befriended a comfort- girl, a very nice young woman named Irlanda, who had lent him some of her clothes once he told her what he needed them for. She'd helped him put them on and, giggling like an imp, applied cosmetics. Outlined in black, Ellian's large brown eyes were suddenly murky and dramatic; touched with ruby, his lips were full and pouting; brushed with rose, the malnourished, exhausted pallor of his complexion was suddenly rendered inconsequential. Irlanda had sprayed him with perfume -- he coughed in memory, earning an inquisitively concerned look from Davria -- and lent him a luscious wig of curling blonde locks.

That night, after steeling himself with a heavy drink, he'd seduced the leader of the band, a man named Kbernelk, tall and sneering, whose most memorable feature was a scraggly beard which made Ellian want to sneeze. The man drank long and deeply, Ellian tumbled onto his lap like a prize, and, unexpectedly, he'd made Ellian match him drink for drink. Lucky for Ellian that he'd spent most of his childhood after he learned about his Blood power seeking truth in the bottom of empty whiskey bottles.

To his surprise, Kbernelk had laughed when he discovered Ellian was no damsel and proceeded to sate his lust anyway. The alcohol numbed Ellian to the pain, and though he was light-headed, Kbernelk was roaring drunk. When the man passed out, it gave Ellian the opportunity he needed. His own heart curiously silent, he impaled Kbernelk upon his own longsword and escaped through the window, spattered in blood. Kbernelk's memories had threatened to break his shields, but he pushed them fiercely away. Irlanda had promised to try to make it, but she wasn't there. Ellian had tottered his way to her street corner and collapsed there, waking up the next morning in an unfamiliar room with a terrified, tear-streaked Irlanda by his side.

Of all dangers, Irlanda had brought him to a hospital, but his escape from there, and from the city itself, was another story entirely.

"After you," Ellian said with a small bow, opening the front door. Davria bobbed him a curtsy as she entered, and Ellian demurely followed.

Late in the afternoon, Herrez, a telepathic Amasuelian refugee designated Bahliefa's version of a town crier for the strength of his gift, sounded a mental call. Ellian winced with the loudness of it:

[TOWN COUNCIL. ALL MEET AT THE VILLAGE GREEN IN AN HOUR'S TIME.]

"Must we go?" Ellian inquired of Davria, pained. He hadn't gone out to mingle with the townspeople for a reason. Ellian had never been social.

Davria looked at him, her usually sparkling brown eyes stern. "Herrez may have sounded the call, but that's Dae's summons. Are you going to disobey him?"

"Dae gave me to understand that attending town council was optional," Ellian muttered.

"Of course it's optional," Davria said with a shrug. "But you have to go." Her quick smile flashed. "Welcome to Bahliefa."

The village green where town council took place had a platform on it where disputes were heard and arbited by any of Dae's six pet mages. Usually, Dae gave a speech at the end of the two-hour council. Ellian had heard Davria chat with her neighbor excitedly about what Dae might speak about, so he assumed that the speech was an entertaining thing.

Fortunate, that, because the first hour of town council was stultifying. Ferrin, one of the Shields, was arbiting a few minor disputes over land and chattel. Ellian sat on the green with his back against a sturdy tree and tried not to fall asleep. Since he had never gone out to meet the townspeople, and since the town was so small, he was immediately noted and received more than a few curious, sidelong glances. He kept to himself and hoped that no one would approach him.

After the judgments came the presentation of a few changes to town infrastructure and legislature. The schoolroom was to be expanded; Dae needed a volunteer to assist him in turning the flow of a nearby river to run near the town; the penalties for molesting any of the woodlands creatures who wandered by had been strengthened, and parents were encouraged to control their children in this regard. Davria was poking him periodically awake.

Finally, Dae emerged. Somehow, everyone had missed seeing his approach.

He walked to the center of the platform, the gleaming light of sunset -- a light like blood, thought Ellian morbidly, a crimson wash -- twining itself in his hair, making brilliant his eyes. The crowd hushed, and one could hear a butterfly's wings beat as the assembled population of Bahliefa awaited the words of their Alcaldel.

"Bahliefa," he said.

Through skills of oration or a handy little magic trick or even the adoring silence of the crowd, no one had a problem hearing him.

"Another month has come to pass, and all is well. I'm pleased to see that nothing too serious has come up, and everyone seems to be well- satisfied. If it's not so, and someone has something they want considered, please come to the platform."

His hands clasped before him, feet set firm and apart, Dae waited beside the podium. No one approached.

"Very well, then. I hope no one has kept silence out of shyness, but if you will not see me now, find me afterwards. My doors are always open." He flicked a long lock of shining blonde hair out of his eyes and changed tracks. "Recently, we've had a new arrival to the town. As per the customary arrangement, I would have that arrival introduce himself." His violet gaze searched the crowd. "Ellian, please come up."

"Ellian!" Davria hissed. Heads began to turn in their direction. "Ellian, Dae's summoning you!"

Ellian's half-doze evaporated. "What?" he answered incredulously.

Dae's gaze found his. Dae might as well have had a leash attached to a collar around Ellian's neck, because his call was as good as a yank, and Ellian stumbled forward. Before he knew it, he was on the platform, in full view of Bahliefa's citizens, all of whom were standing on tiptoe to catch sight of him. Mentally, Ellian apologized for being slight, brown-haired, brown-eyed, delicate of feature, and no remarkable sight. A flush rose to his cheeks as he regarded the assembly.

"The podium is yours," Dae announced, stepping gracefully aside to allow Ellian passage.

Ellian's feet were moving, Ellian noted in bemusement, carrying him to the podium. He looked out with no small terror. A crowd of 276 was still quite a crowd, and Ellian had not forgotten his journey. He found himself checking frantically for mage-hunters before his wits got a hold of him. He had to speak or look a complete fool, so he cleared his throat and began with the necessary.

"My name is Ellian Allarme," he said. "I'm from Oren. You know. Virengrai. Er... I was expelled from the College of Druchae once my power was discovered. I --"

"What power?" shouted a man from the assembly.

Ellian blinked, his hands spasming on the podium. He didn't know this was an interactive thing. "Blood power," he replied, mouth dry. "But - - but -- I've never used it -- not in its Dark aspect, I mean. I can't help it when it just decides to appear on its own, you know?"

He was asking an assembly of mages. Of course they knew. There were nods all around, sympathizers with his plight. He continued, slightly strengthened by their quiet support. "Um, at any rate, so, I was expelled from the College, because Blood power is obviously not a power that is touched by the gods, and I crossed the Irvemi Straits as a stowaway. I then crossed Engladess, the Reskinikin Confederacy, Werkogtia, and Amasuel before I made it up into Rhighelza. The journey took a little over a year." He searched his mind frantically for something else to say. "I'm nineteen years old."

"Are you attached?" a voice of indeterminate gender inquired lewdly. A giggle swept through the crowd.

Ellian reddened. "There are some things I would prefer to keep private, please." Such as the fact that he'd had only a few significant others in his lifetime, most male, and they'd never been satisfying relationships anyway.

"Tell us about the situation for mages in Virengrai," Dae commanded coolly. His gaze was oddly focused on Ellian, who swallowed, but obliged.

"They're hunted. Ever since the time of Berrinel, Virengrai's tried to control magecraft, stifle it, hide it in the Temples if possible. It's only recently that the Temples have turned the mageborn out, and it has somewhat to do with the policy push against mages in nations like Engladess and the R.C. There's fear everywhere, I think." Ellian pushed his floppy bangs out of his eyes, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face to melt into the collar of his shirt. "Fear of what mages can and will do. The duel of Daës-morn and Saher seven years ago only helped to exacerbate that fear -- at least that's what my best friend made into a thesis for a dissertation, which he's been made to flee Virengrai for daring to write." He dared to glance up from the podium. The crowd was muttering direly to itself, shifting around. Any further words choked in Ellian's throat.

"Keep going," Dae murmured.

"I'm not sure what else to say." Ellian's voice was hoarse and tight, but he couldn't disobey Dae any more than he could ignore his summons. "The situation for mages is terrible everywhere. The nulls are afraid of some sort of great mage uprising, and --"

"-- and why shouldn't we give it to them?" Dae unexpectedly took up Ellian's thread, walking over and placing an arm around Ellian's shoulder. Ellian stiffened at the intimate contact. "This young man had to flee his land when he was eighteen years old -- when he had barely reached his majority! How many children, how many mageborn children have had to drag their way here? How many more children still count the miles before they reach the gentle twilight of Bahliefa?

"It is the civilized nations -- Engladess, the R.C., even Rhighelza -- who commit the greatest atrocities against the mageborn. This is an age of injustice, an age of tragedies and travesties, an age of hate. What better example of this than the bane of so many's existence: Mage-hunters!"

The crowd hissed at the word, but Dae's contemptuous voice cut through even the discontent the word had spawned. "People -- and I use the term lightly -- commissioned to kill unsuspecting mageborn folk in the bosom of their families! Massacres have taken place since Berrinel and no outcry against them. We are proud, sneer the nulls, proud to hold the power of gods. And why shouldn't we be? Why shouldn't we feel joy in a gift so free, so natural to us? Writers are proud, poets, artists, for nature has been kind to them, and the world dotes upon their creations. What of us? Why are mages unallowed to glorify what they have wrought?

"And we have wrought beauty!" Dae unfolded his arms, gesturing to the crimson and gold sky above him. "What is Bahliefa, if not beauty personified? Here is utopia!" he cried. "Here is peace! Here wolves walk freely alongside sheep! Here the dandelion grows with the rose, and both the sweeter for the freedom of it! Our town, forged by our hands! And who would take it from us? The nulls. Who would deny us the sweetness of confidence and security? The nulls. Who assails us at every opportunity? The nulls. Who would tear our children from our loving arms and see their mageborn brains bashed out against the hard walls? Why don't YOU tell me?"

"The nulls!" the crowd screamed.

"And the root of it all? Let me give you a history lesson, my friends. One thousand years ago, two mages fought over a personal issue of personal honor, over the island of Berrinel. 'Twas their folly to fight above an inhabited island, which crumbled and sank to the sea. Berrinel was an island off of the coast of none other than Virengrai, and ever since that time, Virengrai has been the noose around the throat of the mageborn, ever tightening. They tie a slipknot with ever crueler fingers, friends! They have invited Engladess, Rhighelza, the R.C., Amasuel, even wild Werkogtia to their 'civilized' slaughter! It is THEY whom we have to thank for the plight we find ourselves in!" He allowed the crowd's roar to die down. His voice softened. "All traceable, a thousand years back, to two mages, and a personal point of honor fought in a badly chosen locale. We do not bear the responsibility and the blood-guilt of Berrinel, as Virengrai and her allies would have us believe. But Virengrai bears the blood-guilt of thousands," his voice began to rise again, "thousands upon thousands of innocent mages who have wanted nothing but peace for themselves and who hold nothing for love for their nation!

"It is time to abandon love of the nation. Time to let go of old loyalties, old modes of thought. We -- mages as a whole -- have been cruelly harmed and carelessly mistreated. It is time to get our own back, so that our young men can grow up without needing to flee across five countries in search of sanctuary." Dae clapped Ellian on the shoulder. "Be kind to your own, mages, and to hell with the rest!"

Dae stepped away from the platform to uproarious applause, leaving Ellian frozen on the platform as the people began to disperse.