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I have to admit that I jumped into the chapter about Tenni with only an idea of what he did (he's a scribe) and what he was like (cynical and sarcastic, and very intelligent). But I knew nothing else! After I typed the words "Chapter 4: Tenni", I sat there motionless, staring at the screen for a long moment. Finally I decided, "Just start typing. See what comes." And I did, and Tenni said, "See? Idiot. You just had to open the door, and I can handle the rest."

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"I don't want you to go," said Wari stubbornly, standing with his shoulders slumped, hands jammed deep into the pockets of his red bard's tunic.

Birili sighed understanding, but she didn't stop shoving things into her saddlebags. "I must. I've been chosen. Which sounds ridiculous, but that's the only word for it."

He said quietly, "You know this may affect your application to bard status."

Her busy hands paused for a moment. "Yes, I know," she said, then turned to look at him. "Do you think this decision was easy for me?"

"Yes, I do."

She gasped as if he'd slapped her. A furious retort rose to her lips, but he stopped her with a gesture. "I don't mean to anger you," he said. "I'm only being honest. And you'll do better on this quest of yours, if you insist on leaving, if you are honest with yourself."

There was a reason he was considered the wisest of the bards. She turned away, nodding, pushing a pair of boots into the nearest bag. She was afraid of all the possible dangers; she knew there was a chance the Hall would never let her present her masterwork; and she knew she would be away from Wari for weeks, which would be almost unbearable. But, although her mind and heart were in turmoil, the decision itself truly had been easy.

His quirky smile had appeared when she forcibly swallowed her words. Now he put his arms around her. "I know," he murmured. "You've been singing about the legend all your life. Now you get to actually live it." His arms tightened. "But no one has ever returned from this adventure, Ril."

She snuggled into the hollow of his shoulder. "We don't know that. Mazya says most of the Talons did go back to their lives, according to the shrine records, but either they didn't ever talk about what happened to them, or no one believed them." She drew back to look into his eyes. "But I believe they did. How else would the songs have come to us? So many of them are older than the Johe shrine, you know. As for me, I won't talk about it, when I return. I'll sing about it! I'll make such story songs – like none ever written before!"

He let her go and stepped away from her. "Yes. If you survive, you will, I know." But his confidence in her was mixed with a deep hurt.

"Oh, Wari. You know I wouldn't leave you for anything less than the Dawn Dragon itself. I wish you could come. Not on the journey, of course, but to the mountain."

"At the summer solstice?"

The solstice was one of the Hall's busiest times. She nodded. "I know. But I still wish it."

He shrugged, his hands back in his pockets. "I'm saying goodbye now, Ril. I'll sleep in the dorms tonight."

Now it was she who was hurt. "Why?"

"Because if I'm with you tonight, I could never release you in the morning. I'm sorry." He took her chin in his hand, kissed her lightly on the mouth. "Stay safe," he said, and left.

Birili almost never cried, but as she finished her packing, she was half blind with tears, not just of pain, but also of anger. By the time she closed the first saddle bag, however, she knew he was right. He was making things easier for her. That thought made her bite her lip to keep the tears back.

She determinedly pushed everything out of her mind except the task at hand, which was selecting a musical instrument to pack. I'll take the pipe, she thought. It's the only thing that will fit in the bag. With exaggerated care, she slid the leather case into the bag.

Sitting on the bed, the bed she had shared with Wari for more than two years now, she knew she would never be able to sleep. At last, she went outside to stargaze.

The priestess and her companion – companions, if one counted the snakelike creature – were on one end of the porch, Mazya listening, head cocked, to an impromptu session going on between three harpers at the other end of the porch, and the soldier, obviously not musical, leaning back on her elbows with a bored expression. Birili sat beside Mazya. "I'm all packed."

"You will be leaving much behind."

She sounded as if she knew exactly what Birili was feeling. "Yes. I want to go. I am honored to be chosen. I'm excited and thrilled. But it is also the most painful thing I have ever done."

Koras said, "I didn't hear the word 'scared' in there."

"Oddly enough, I'm nervous but not afraid. I don't know why," she said with a short laugh. "I should be."

"Yeah. You should."

Mazya said, "We depend on your stout arm, Koras." She touched Birili's arm. "My dear, part of the journey, part of what makes us worthy, is that we sacrifice something when we embark on our task. The more we love what we leave behind, the more strength we bring with us."

She wiped her cheeks. "Then I will be very strong."

"I know you will be. As strong as Lucin herself, perhaps."

"Lucin? Who is that?"

"Johe's love."

"But – she was nameless. No one knows her name."

"We of the priesthood do. We were simply asked not to tell it."

"Then why are you telling me now?"

"Because we are about to embrace the Dawn Dragon again. What is past, is past."

She felt excitement stirring and rising from her misery. "May I write about her?"

"You may, but not until there is a new Dawn Dragon. Then you may, if you wish, stay at the shrine and learn all we know about her."

 

Chapter 4: Tenni

 

The young scribe bobbed before Tenni, holding out his offering, a scrap of apprentice's parchment covered with scribbled text. Tenni had seen from across the room that the work would not be acceptable, and he tried to rub an incipient headache from his brow as he spread the parchment before him on the desk. He looked at it for a long moment, then looked up, and the apprentice's hopeful expression turned to resignation. Tenni said mildly, "You actually call this writing, do you?"

The boy hunched his shoulders. "No, sir. But I tried!" he added with a flash of spirit.

"If you try and fail, it is still failure. This is disgraceful. It's blotted, by all the gods. The capitals are badly finished. Your letters cram together and have no elegance. Although," he added with a sneer so characteristic that, as he was aware, all the apprentices mocked it, "this is a small improvement over the last time you were tested." He tapped the parchment with one long finger, and the boy flinched. "I know the passage you copied, and you have even botched that. Three words are missing." He drew his quill. "Here, here, and here."

The boy's head drooped between the hunched shoulders. "I will try..."

"You will what?"

"I will do better, sir!"

"Send your Master Zuib to me. And take this out of my sight."

The apprentice tried to bow and take the parchment at the same time, fumbled both, and ended up scooping the parchment from the floor and stumbling out of the room.

Tenni leaned back in his chair, eyes turned up toward the high ceiling. What was the Guild sending them these days? Farm boys and girls? Hands like that one were better tuned to the plow than the quill, certainly. How had such idiots as that one ever become literate at all?

Zuib took his time about coming. Not, Tenni knew, because the apprentice had been slow carrying his message. No, Zuib was undoubtedly looking up the passage he'd set the boy to copy, since he'd probably chosen it at random. He would then try to find a justification for the errors that he had not spotted in the boy's work. As an apprentice master, Zuib set a poor example, and if Tenni were in charge of the Guild, he wouldn't be a scribe at all.