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God. I can't believe I'm already in the Slough of Despond. Maybe Tenni is a bad influence. Or because I've been sick. No, it can't be Tenni, because unlike Birili, he's quite happy to be at center stage and is telling me all kinds of things about himself!

"The conditions in the apprentice hall are not ideal," Zuib said stiffly.

"Not? Let me think on this issue. What is it that apprentices need, besides instruction, to perform?" He rubbed his chin as if pondering the issue. "Hmm. Parchment, quill, ink, sand, rubbing stones, candles for those times when other light is unavailable, and a text to copy. Those are provided us by the Guild. A room with a table, or in our case, a hall with tables, preferably with windows. Food and water to sustain life. A place to sleep. All those, Lady Ultar gives us in her generosity, and she has even provided warm clothes in the winter. So... what remains to be done to help improve them?"

Zuib had been growing belligerent at this obvious condescension, but he mastered himself and chose a strategic retreat. "We could use some work done in the hall. Shutters that pull fully back, and a fireplace at the south end as well as at the north."

Tenni nodded. "I will speak to the lady about it. In the meantime, I plan to spend more time in the apprentice hall in the future, to get a better idea of the exigencies from which you suffer. Perhaps I can determine other changes we might wish to make."

Zuib's face paled, then reddened. "I have been an apprentice master for more than fifteen years," he growled. "I don't need you looking over my shoulder."

"I thought by now it was perfectly clear that the level of apprenticeship work which has crossed my desk in the past year argues otherwise. But," he smiled, "I want to be fair. You have several times mentioned, in the past, that I am too remote from the day-to-day workings of the hall, so I am taking your advice and taking a more active role."

The door to his office flew open without a knock or ceremony, flung aside by a man-at-arms. Both Tenni and Zuib straightened, for that could only mean one thing, that Tenni was about to be visited by the lady. She strode in a moment later, a tall, squarely-built woman with a no-nonsense manner that perfectly expressed her character. "Master Tenni! I am glad to find you here. Are you at leisure? Master Zuib," she added with a nod to the apprentice master.

Her nod was both an acknowledgement and a dismissal, and he bowed himself hurriedly out. Tenni heard him speaking to someone outside in the corridor, briefly, before taking himself off.

Tenni bowed gracefully. "For you, Lady, I can always find time."

"Good. I want to ask you a favor." She looked out into the corridor. "Niam, come along, will you? I want to hand you over to Master Scribe Tenni. He's the man you need, if you want to see the Scribes Hall."

As she spoke, a tall, richly dressed man came into the room. He was approaching middle age, with flecks of grey in his ruthlessly cropped brown hair, but his build and the relaxed, catlike grace of his stride indicated the warrior even more obviously than the long sword at his hip. Why would a man like that want to look over a scribe hall? Tenni wondered.

The man glanced around, his lively dark eyes taking in every detail of the room at a glance, his expression saturnine but amused. Then the eyes met Tenni's, and Tenni felt a jolt of sharp recognition. He couldn't understand it, as he'd never seen the man before in his life, but at the same time he felt a kinship between them, as if they were long-lost brothers. Yet the kinship was not one of affection.

He took an involuntary step backward. The smile on the man's lips crept into his eyes.

Noticing none of this, Lady Ultar introduced them in her brusque way. "Lord Niam, Master Scribe Tenni. Tenni's in charge of things here. Tenni, the gentleman is interested in possibly sponsoring a modest guild hall. Tell him about it, show him around, answer his questions, will you?"

Despite an inexplicable queasiness, Tenni bowed. "That would be my great pleasure."

The lady swept out in the same way that she had entered. Lord Niam, with a faint smile, carefully and quietly closed the door behind her.

The name finally floated into Tenni's memory, spurred, perhaps, by the sense of danger that made his nerves jump without apparent cause. "Lord Niam," he repeated. "The famed Hawksblood?"

The man smiled pleasantly. "I haven't had that name applied to me in many years." He sat in the carved and cushioned chair before Tenni's desk, folding his hands and regarding Tenni with mild curiosity. "How long have you known you had the mark?" he asked.