The 9th of Aggrave, Year 373 P.R.F. (High Lunar Cycle)

  The Cetimos Ministry of Summoning’s Testing and Isolation Facility #2, on the outskirts of Drebos Altimas

  I watched carefully as Master Thomas shifted uncomfortably, as I waited to see what kind of answer he would give me.

  “That’s not really a question I’m supposed to answer…”

  “But it is something you could answer. Or at least know the answer to.”

  He winced, but said, “This is the first time I’ve assisted with a summoning. The others can give you a much better answer than I could. Lady Elutria in particular.”

  “You want me to ask Lady Elutria? Really? For something this important?”

  “Yes? She’s your summoner. You’re her responsibility, and it's a responsibility she’s been trained extensively for.”

  “Has she? Because all I really know about her is that she hates me, even if I’m not sure why. But…”

  “She doesn’t hate you! Or at least, I don’t think she does.”

  “Disdains me, then. Is put out by me. Something. But she certainly doesn’t seem to want me here, which seems extra weird if you’re saying she’s the person most responsible for my being here.”

  I’m not sure what Master Thomas thought of my impression of Lady Elutria, but he seemed to be struggling to come up with some sort of reply. Finally, I worked up the nerve to ask him my newest worry. One that had only occurred to me earlier this morning, when I had been turning over the events from yesterday in my mind.

  “Did I… insult her, yesterday? Rudolpho kept going on about how the courtesy I know isn’t what’s familiar to all of you. He also mentioned how the other summons you all work with will have learned your courtesy, by the time they are fluent in your language. I’m ashamed to say, though, that I only realized recently that this means I’m just as likely to do or say something extremely offensive to you all out of ignorance, much as you managed to upset me yesterday.

  “So maybe that’s why she loathes me. Maybe I said or did something truly awful to her, and I’m so blinded by my own circumstances I can’t even see that I did it. I really hope not; even by accident, I don’t want to be that kind of person. But it's the only thing I can think of that seems to make sense.”

  I had hunched down into my chair the more I spoke, and each word had come out more quietly than the last. I’m not even sure if he managed to hear the last few sentences of my confession. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him at all, lest I saw the same disgust in his features that I had been seeing in Lady Elutria’s. A disgust I’d squarely deserve, if my intuition was correct.

  I heard a sharp intake of breath from across the table, and Master Thomas said, “Setting aside the question of what Lady Elutria does or doesn’t think of you, I haven’t seen you do anything that I would consider ‘rude’. I wouldn’t suggest you waltz into any of Cetimos’s high society functions without studying our more formal manners first, if you are worried about offending people. But from a more casual, day-to-day standpoint? You’ve been very polite. Maybe even a little more polite than some other people I know, and those are people who grew up here.

  “I get that etiquette is really, really important to you for some reason, but it’s just not as big a deal to us. There are some things that just aren’t said or done, and I’ll suggest to the others that we prioritize teaching you what that is, sooner rather than later, if that’ll help you feel more comfortable here.”

  I’d kept my gaze lowered for most of this conversation, still afraid of what I might see in his face. What if his expression hadn’t matched his words? What if, from his perspective, telling me something soothing instead of giving me an honest answer was the polite thing to do?

  But when he mentioned teaching me what the local courtesy actually was, so I could stop second-guessing this and everything else, I couldn’t help but to jerk upright and search his eyes. And he meant it. As best as I could read him, he meant every word.

  He tried to keep a smile from his face at my reaction and failed. But his expression and tone quickly sobered again as he continued, “But to get back to your original question, I don’t think Lady Elutria hates you. She just… resents you, I guess would be the right word. Not for anything you did or anything that’s your fault, at least not really.”

  “I don’t think that was my original question. My original question was why I was summoned at all…” I weakly teased.

  He smiled again, but it was more strained this time, and pressed on, “It’s very difficult to become a summoner. The Ministry of Summoning receives many more applicants each year than can be trained to the work, and when they complete their education, they are only considered summoner candidates. When the Ministry does commission a summoning ritual, they’ll usually tap a full summoner for the work if one’s available.

  “So each year, another class of ten or so trainees graduate and get added to the pool of summoner candidates, but only one or two might get selected to perform a ritual and actually become a summoner. It’s an extremely competitive profession, and at least half of summoner candidates age out of eligibility or voluntarily retire from duty without ever summoning someone at all.

  “There are even more complications beyond that, but I think that gives you some kind of idea to start from. Because up until yesterday, Lady Elutria was one of those summoner candidates. And how things go with you will determine whether she’ll be able to continue on as a summoner or not.”

  Master Thomas had given me a lot to think about, but very little of it has to do with Lady Elutria. They do this so often, summon people like they did me, that they have built an entire organized profession around it? One with maybe dozens or perhaps even hundreds of dedicated specialists, from trainees to full summoners? Maybe I should have already seen the implication already, in that they apparently have an entire government ministry dedicated to the practice, but just how many of these summonings do they perform each year? Is it more than one a month?

  Why? What do they need us all for?

  *****

  I tried to probe Master Thomas further on why I had been summoned, or their purpose for summoning in general, but he kept deflecting with vague non-answers. Subtle or direct, I wasn’t managing to dig out anything new from him on that topic.

  What I did find interesting is that he continued to sit there and let me keep asking. We’d both finished eating; what was keeping him here in this dinning hall? Wouldn’t exiting the room be the cleanest and least suspicious way to deal with my prying, if he was so determined not to answer any of my questions?

  He did keep trying to hint that Lady Elutria wasn’t a bad person and didn’t mean me ill. I’m still not clear on why that was so important to him. I did ultimately promise myself to give her another chance, in the silence of my own thoughts. But Guildmaster Dedric had been a staunch defender of Freya in ways that even now felt unreasonable to me. When it came to Lady Elutria, I’d believe the evidence of my eyes first and foremost.

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  Still, I did resolve to avoid badmouthing Lady Elutria in front of Master Thomas, at least until I had a better idea of what kind of friends they are. Whatever beef might be between her and I, Master Thomas had been fairly decent to me, under the circumstances. I didn’t need to go out of my way to make him feel uncomfortable.

  From some of his other asides, as Master Thomas continued to dodge my questions about what they hoped from me, I did manage to learn a bit more about the other mages I’d met yesterday. Hesra was apparently an infrequent addition to these summoning rituals, even if this wasn’t the first time she’d helped to facilitate one. She was a gifted engineer and researcher, her work devoted to adapting various magical formulae to improve urban sanitation and similar large-scale infrastructure projects. I tried to imagine the steely-eyed, steely-haired woman slogging through sewers to verify the efficiency loss of some glyph vital to preventing the spread of infectious diseases, or barking instructions to a construction crew under her supervision. The image fit her surprisingly well, even if my only impression of Hesra from yesterday had been one of gentle kindness.

  On the other hand, Rudolpho’s involvement with summoning apparently stretched back decades. The masses of vegetation I had seen in the valley below this tower? Apparently, all that land had been barren until Quenta Apros the Woodcaller, someone who had been summoned to this world like myself, had bespelled the valley more than a hundred years ago - all in a single casting that hadn’t needed any maintenance or renewal since that day.

  Rudolpho hadn’t actually been part of the ritual that summoned Quenta Apros, or been present when they undertook such a grand working to enrich the valley. Elderly as the man appeared, he wasn’t quite that long-lived. But in his youth he did once study under the legendary mage, despite the fact that they had become increasingly reclusive in their twilight years. Rudolpho apparently considered it a great point of pride, and credited their tutelage as what had propelled his own craft to such heights as to be recognized as one of Cetimos’s few Archmaguses. If Rudolpho was responsible for the intricate illusion spell that I had briefly glimpsed yesterday, I was definitely inclined to agree that Quenta Apros must have been an amazing teacher.

  While it wasn’t too difficult to convince Master Thomas to talk up his companions, he seemed surprisingly uncomfortable when it came to talking about himself. I gathered he hadn’t been deemed to be a fully accredited mage until very recently, but even that was more of a guess on my part than something he said outright. It’s just the way he kept using phrases like “when I was a student” or “in my studies” whenever he made a reference to his own personal experience on a topic, that led me to believe that about him.

  *****

  Since this is where Master Thomas had led me to find our breakfast, I kept half-expecting the other three mages to wander in at some point to see to the same need. But a surprisingly long time passed as we spoke before anyone else showed their face. At which point I learned something else new: Rudolpho could be a bit of a grump in the morning.

  He meandered slowly into the dining hall, peering about himself blearily. When his gaze briefly touched on me, I think he may have still reflexively attempted to smile, but it was so lackluster and forced it came off as more of a grimace.

  Master Thomas leapt to his feet and started towards the kitchen when he saw Rudolpho shuffling in that direction. But he actually frowned for the first time I could recall, and vaguely waved the younger man back to his seat. He continued his trudging, feet so slightly lifted off the floor that a soft “shuf shuf” announced his every step.

  Despite the weak attempt to smile at me, this was a very different man than I remembered meeting the day before. Where was that perpetual sense of energy and amusement? I guess nobody could keep that up all the time, although I had vague memories of a particularly perky former guildmate that argued to the contrary. What was her name again? How long ago was it that she left the guild? Were we good friends? I racked my brain, but nothing else about her came to mind.

  For the next few minutes, Master Thomas and I sat quietly, politely leaving the silence untouched until Rudolpho settled himself and chose to greet us. And as we waited, I got an even bigger surprise: Lady Elutria made her own way into the dining hall, and she had changed her hair.

  She dropped into a chair one table over from where Master Thomas and I were seated, while I did my best not to stare. Gone was the tangled random pile from yesterday. Today, her hair was the same color and perhaps the same length, but it was straightened and neatened and much of it had been carefully gathered together by some kind of hair clip.

  It wasn’t a particularly dramatic change to her appearance overall, I suppose. Nothing else much looked different about her, right down to the haughty demeanor. But I was briefly reminded of all the time I had spent watching adventurers parade by in all their fashionable glory just the same.

  I’ve swapped my outfit from time to time, along with the rest of my equipment, as circumstances and my purse would allow. But as best as I could recall, I’ve never actually changed my hairstyle, or much of anything else about my appearance. Not that I’m envious of those adventurers I know who did go to the trouble and expense of switching up their look… At least, I don’t think I am. I like the way I look, and just never saw the need to do so before… I guess?

  Still, even among those adventurers I did know who would change their appearance, it was rarely a particularly casual thing. Anyone who would do so more frequently than once a month was a rarity.

  So had today just coincidentally been the day Lady Elutria had decided to try something different? If not, why today? I didn’t really know her well enough to guess.

  Nor did I know how she wanted us to react to her change. Before I had been summoned here, my friends would have fished for my reaction if I didn’t compliment them profusely on my own initiative, and been disappointed that any effort on their part had been necessary to get me to speak up.

  But were we the kind of friends now that Lady Elutria would want to hear such things from me? Were we even friends at all, technically? Hesra I felt sure about, since she had exchanged names with me even after Rudolpho’s introduction. And I think Master Thomas and I might properly be friends now, even without formally exchanging names. He had at least treated me as a friend this morning, and I had found it easy to respond in kind.

  But Lady Elutria hadn’t given me the impression she wanted me as a friend at all, at least so far. Should I rely on what Rudolpho had said about this world’s courtesy, and assume we’re friends anyway? At least until someone tells me otherwise? How are people supposed to know if they are friends or not, if it’s not based on exchanging names?

  Master Thomas at least seemed to want us to get along. And I did promise myself to give her another chance. So I gathered up every ounce of my courage and then some, and told her, “I like what you’ve done with your hair this morning.”

  She glared at me for a moment, then disdainfully tossed her head.

  “So… I take it we’re not friends then? Or are you also not a morning person?”

  Her attention snapped back to me, and I was startled to realize I must have said that aloud, rather than just in the privacy of my own head. As we both blinked at each other in mutual astonishment, the gravity of the moment broke when Master Thomas began to chortle, which also resulted in Rudolpho sticking his head out of the kitchen in puzzlement.

  I thought Lady Elutria might do that blushing thing humans sometimes do, but instead she gave Master Thomas the kind of glare that so far I’d only seen her direct at me. Honestly, I might have done the same if I was more the glaring type… (I had a mirror in the room they’d let me use; why hadn’t I taken the time to practice some good glares? Oh, right, I’d been hungry. But I obviously needed to make that a priority. It seems I’d have many occasions in this world to use such a handy expression.)

  “My, what a lively bunch you are this morning,” came Hesra’s voice from the dining hall’s entrance. She made her own way towards the kitchen much as Rudolpho had shortly before, although with more poise and energy than he had made the trip.

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me yesterday I had hood hair?!” came Lady Elutria’s quiet but emphatic grumble.

  Hesra quirked an eyebrow in such an arched way, I’d absolutely kill to learn how to do it myself. Not kill people, obviously, but monsters. Piles and piles of monsters.

  Lady Elutria slumped back in her chair, far and away the least graceful thing I’d seen her do. Even when she’d first dropped into the chair moments earlier, there had still been something lady-like about it. Now she reminded me of something else, even if I couldn’t quite put my finger on what that might be.

  Hesra showed no signs of smirking as she continued to the kitchen, but I suspect that was only true on the outside.

  Meanwhile, I was left to silently grapple with one particularly perplexing question: What the heck is “hood hair”?