The novices sat in neat rows in the study hall. It was homework hour, and they were all required to sit here quietly. An Accepted whom Mirin did not know sat at the head of the room, making sure that they focused on their work.
Mirin looked out the window and sighed enviously. It was a beautiful day outside. She had strategically chosen to sit at a desk placed right by the window. Papers and books were stacked neatly on the desk before her. She had finished most of her work, with only one more paragraph required to complete her essay on Fire. She glanced back at the notes she had taken in class.
This particular passage, however, didn’t really apply to her. Mirin was pathetically weak in Fire. She hated her weakness. Other novices, even women who were, overall, far weaker than her, could do more than she could with Fire. She had to concentrate very hard to light a candle. A candle! And even that left her sweating with exertion. She would never use Fire, for anything, unless she had no alternative.
Mirin glanced out the window again. A flash of blonde caught her eye, and she scowled. Liri, an Accepted, was practicing swordplay in the Warder Yards.
When one of her teachers needed a model of perfection, they pointed to Lirievin Tesiva. Liri always had a smile on her face. She dressed impeccably, and did not put on airs. She was always ready to lend a helping hand. And she was one of the few Accepted who was nice to the novices. She had endless patience. When she smiled gently at Mirin for the hundredth time and told her to not push herself so hard – that Mirin was already doing well, at least well enough for a novice; and perhaps Mirin’s spectacular failure with Fire would improve with time; all while smiling that kindly, understanding, infuriating smile – it was enough to make Mirin want to scream.
And of course, Liri was beautiful. Mirin hated beautiful women, who competed with her for the attentions of men. Liri had long blonde hair and tan skin that never seemed to burn or freckle. Mirin could only step into the sun for a few minutes before turning as red as a tomato.
Liri was perfect. Or so she seemed.
Mirin frowned thoughtfully, and then scribbled a note.
She tucked it in a book and stood up. The Accepted sitting at the front of the room watched her suspiciously. Mirin casually strolled to the other side of the study hall and handed it to Betrys.
“Thank you for letting me borrow your book. Page 48 is especially useful,” Mirin said quietly, knowing that the Accepted was eavesdropping. Then she returned to her own desk to finish her essay.
Mirin looked out the window and sighed enviously. It was a beautiful day outside. She had strategically chosen to sit at a desk placed right by the window. Papers and books were stacked neatly on the desk before her. She had finished most of her work, with only one more paragraph required to complete her essay on Fire. She glanced back at the notes she had taken in class.
- A woman should never use Fire to draw out a flame. She must use Water to douse it, Air to snuff it out, or Earth to smother it. If she tries to use Fire, she can be severely burned, or worse, go up in flames.
This particular passage, however, didn’t really apply to her. Mirin was pathetically weak in Fire. She hated her weakness. Other novices, even women who were, overall, far weaker than her, could do more than she could with Fire. She had to concentrate very hard to light a candle. A candle! And even that left her sweating with exertion. She would never use Fire, for anything, unless she had no alternative.
Mirin glanced out the window again. A flash of blonde caught her eye, and she scowled. Liri, an Accepted, was practicing swordplay in the Warder Yards.
When one of her teachers needed a model of perfection, they pointed to Lirievin Tesiva. Liri always had a smile on her face. She dressed impeccably, and did not put on airs. She was always ready to lend a helping hand. And she was one of the few Accepted who was nice to the novices. She had endless patience. When she smiled gently at Mirin for the hundredth time and told her to not push herself so hard – that Mirin was already doing well, at least well enough for a novice; and perhaps Mirin’s spectacular failure with Fire would improve with time; all while smiling that kindly, understanding, infuriating smile – it was enough to make Mirin want to scream.
And of course, Liri was beautiful. Mirin hated beautiful women, who competed with her for the attentions of men. Liri had long blonde hair and tan skin that never seemed to burn or freckle. Mirin could only step into the sun for a few minutes before turning as red as a tomato.
Liri was perfect. Or so she seemed.
Mirin frowned thoughtfully, and then scribbled a note.
- Dearest friend,
What would you say to making Miss Perfect squirm? I’m thinking grass snakes in her bed. Harmless, but effective. What are your thoughts? Let us discuss tonight.
She tucked it in a book and stood up. The Accepted sitting at the front of the room watched her suspiciously. Mirin casually strolled to the other side of the study hall and handed it to Betrys.
“Thank you for letting me borrow your book. Page 48 is especially useful,” Mirin said quietly, knowing that the Accepted was eavesdropping. Then she returned to her own desk to finish her essay.
