The Grey Tower

The Tower bell sounded from a distance and Firen relaxed subtly. The kitchen servants would all be in bed by now, and the other novices would be deep into the exhausted slumber which finished every day of novice life. Too often Firen herself fell asleep waiting for the gong that told her it was an hour before midnight, but tonight she had managed to stay awake. The young Domani slid out of her bed and put her white dress on as quietly as possible. She knew from experience her door creaked when it was closed, so she left it slightly ajar and padded down the corridor, noiseless in her soft novice slippers.

The kitchens were deserted, as she had expected, but the hearth of the great fireplace was still warm. Firen knelt before it, absently petting the spit dog lying beside it who licked her hand half heartedly and went back to sleep as usual.

Ashes were all that remained of the fire that had been doused hours before, but Firen stared at them anyway, settling into a comfortable squat. She pictured the flames that would leap and dance atop the logs that fed them, closed her eyes and heard its' friendly roar. After a moment she felt heat on her face and opened her eyes to see a good size fire burning away in the fireplace.

The young novice grinned gleefully and held out her hands for warmth. She watched the every changing colours as avidly as she would any play, and lost track of the minutes slipping by.