At first Sylvie was only aware of the coolness of ice surrounding her. It should have been miserable, but instead it just soothed the deep ache inside of her. She drifted in and out, the bustling activity around her a counterpoint to the pulse in her head. Sometime she had ice surrounding her, sometimes she was wrapped in comfortable blankets. She didn't bother to focus on the voices around her. It took too much energy.

Though time meant nothing to her, she eventually woke up enough to realize that she was in a bed. She manged to sit up, grateful for the wall behind her for its support, and peeled her eyes open. Then, she winced at what wasn't there. She had never gotten used to being blind, even after all these years. Sighing mentally, she expanded her mage senses out to get her bearings. She was in a box of a room with one door, her bed, a chair, and a table beside the bed. There were no windows interrupting the flow of the room to her senses.

Aside from that, there was a tired mage across the room. She knew who it was from the way he felt to her mage senses, sort of like the taste of cinnamon and ginger mixed with a dash of pepper. She let him cross the room to her and hand her some juice. She didn't even pause to lick her cracked lips before she gulped two glasses of it. Her voice was a cracked whisper of its usual luster when she finally spoke. “Yes, Loren, working magic when I already had Nettle Fever was very stupid, I know.”

“I...you...” He spluttered and waved his arms about as he tried to get what he wanted to say out. His movements created ripples in the air that swirled the flows of magic about like oil stirring through water. She felt the waft of air across her hot cheeks, and realized she still had a fever.

“The plague was cured.” Sylvie stated when it was clear Loren wouldn't be saying more at the moment. “It was worth it.”

“Do you even know what you looked like when stumbled in the door? You had a fever so high we had to call upon our only ice mage to even begin to calm it down. It took two, two, med mages working to exhaustion to even get to the point where your status was upgraded from about to die to cautiously optimistic you might wake!”

“Loren...”

“Damn it, Sylvie, you know better. Any mage knows better. Working magic while ill just makes the illness worse. Would it have hurt to wait a week to get better before using your magic to create a cure?”

“I...”

“And furthermore, you could have asked me to create the cure! You're not the only mage in existence. The Timeos order has many mages that could have done the magic to manufacture that cure.”

“Umm..”

“You never even thought of asking for help that way did you?” Loren sighed. He'd never tell her, but he was actually very proud of Sylvie. Not many mages could have managed the skill and energy to make that cure while being ill with Nettle fever.

Sylvie felt her cheeks burn as she cleared her throat. She hated being scolded like some feckless child. Even more she hated feeling like that child. She knew High Priest Loren was among the most talented mages the kingdom had to offer. “Sorry.” She mumbled.

“What?”

“I'm sorry, all right?” She gritted the words out. “It never...I never...I don't always remember that the Timeos order is also a mage school.”

“Sylvie...we're one of the top two mage schools in the country.” Loren's voice was overly patient. He sat down in the plush velvet chair beside the bed. The chair, the table with the juice and ice, and the bed were all that were in the narrow room. Considering just how infamous the woman sitting before him was, it was as much for her protection as his that she'd been shoved off in this side room.

She sighed and tossed her head back, hitting the wall behind her with a slight thonk. She raised a hand to her forehead and rubbed at it to ease the headache she had. “Loren, what have I told you about my mage education?”

“You were in the Golden Guard. I presume Lord Hillyard's little organization taught you.” Loren's sneer was evident in his tone.

Sylvie's lips twitched. The Tower School was no little organization, but the Timeos Order and the Tower School had long been at odds over anything to deal with magic. She'd been present at many a dinner where High Priest Loren and Lord Hillyard had gone at it with hammer and tongs. “No. In fact, I don't think I've stepped foot in that school aside from fetching Lord Hillyard a time or two.”

“Well, you certainly weren't taught by us.”

“No, you didn't accept girls at the time.”

“We would have accepted any mage of your caliber, even if it meant you had green skin, warts, and black robes.” Loren jested.

Sylvie grinned for an instant. “You've been reading too many of those trash adventure novels again, Loren.”

“You're stalling, Sylvie.”

She fidgeted and tried to pour herself another cup of juice. Her hands trembled as she bobbled the pitcher. Loren rescued it before she soaked the bedding, filled the cup himself, and set the pitcher firmly down.

Sylvie sipped at the juice, wishing she could get her thoughts in order. She finally gave up the effort. “Until I was age ten, I learned what from the mage books that were available in the family library. Hour after hour I worked with those books. Magic burned in me so large and pure that I felt like a dry oily forest waiting for a fire. Of course, none of the books were beginner books. I didn't know what I did or did not do to cause my spells to either work or not work.”

Loren hissed. “Where was the mage in charge of your area at the time? He should have been the one to evaluate your power and teach you the basics.”

Sylvie's lips twisted. “I'm 30 years old, Loren.”

“What does that have to do with...ohh...”

“Yes, oh. The ongoing border dispute between Gamriel and Vanihan escalated to a full blown war the year I was born. All the trained mages were on the front lines, in the capitol with the King, recluses, or too exhausted to cast magic past their nose let alone realize a young mage was there.”

Sylvie sighed and emptied her glass. She carefully set it on the table before continuing. “When I was ten, I was experimenting with a spell that had somewhat worked before. I was camping out in the fen that night. Well, as it should with that kind of preparation, the spell went very wrong very fast. I got lucky. A marsh witch known as the Spider Witch was in the area. She rescued me, realized that I was ripe for a Dark mage to come riding in to use and destroy me, and proceeded to teach me what she could. With her help, I puzzled my way through the basics, then made my way through every magic book in my family's very extensive mage library.”

Loren's mouth opened, then closed. What Sylvie was describing should have been impossible. One of the mages in the area, no matter how exhausted, should have seen the power of the girl from miles away long before she turned ten. Then he realized the answer. The mages were exhausted, and exhausted mages were sent to the one area in the entire country where their mage senses wouldn't be overstimulated by flow of magic. Something about the rocks or the soil there naturally muted most magic.   “You're from Lord Hillyard's lands in the South.”

Sylvie nodded. “Terrapin. For the longest time, I never even realized that a mage shouldn't have been able to really even be born there. The land itself is a natural sink for magic. The Spider Witch normally wouldn't have even been there if she hadn't been searching for ways to create the same thing on the front line. She had to deal with a great deal less power than she was used to in that place.”

“And she came across you.”

“Yes, she did. My magic was wild and untamed, and she kept poking at me to try and figure out how I'd managed to live as long as I had.”

“And the more she poked at you, the more you went to the only thing that made you feel at all better, physical exercise.” Loren spoke from personal knowledge. Many of the young boys that came to the Timeos order were driven to be physically active by the demands magic made on their bodies.  A young woman like Sylvie would have been no different. 

“Yes, our arms master had started calling me a natural at the age of four.  By the time I met the Spider Witch, well..”

“You were set into a routine where you meditated and focused and became one with your weapons.”

“And that in turn is what kept me from dying or going insane from my lack of training. When Hana figured out that my sword work and magic were inextricably entwined, however, she taught me a whole new vocabulary of cuss words.”

“You were taught by Hana Menin? The one who was famous for refusing to have her mage powers blocked in front of the entire court, sabotaging no less than 12 separate betrothal contracts, dancing with the King in the town square during the annual fertility festival, and single-handedly destroying two entire troops of Gamriel's warriors in one day?”

Sylvie chortled. “Yeah, she was a lively woman.”

Silence stretched in the room for a bit. Loren gave Sylvie more juice, and she gulped it down. She shifted in the bed, uncomfortably warm, and it was obvious her fever was getting worse. Loren went over to the door, popped his head out, and murmured to someone standing outside.

Shortly, Sylvie felt a different mage enter the room. This one was almost abrasively healthy. The woman's power tasted of wintergreen, apples, and cloves. “You are not supposed to be sitting up yet. If you must talk, lay down to do so.” 

The med mage fussed at Sylvie. Then she clapped her hands and a parade of servants and acolytes of the Timeos order brought more pillows, ice, towels, and blankets. The med mage then shooed everyone out briefly to help Sylvie take care of the natural results of drinking so much juice earlier. The med mage also promised Sylvie some food later on if she was good.

Then, in short order, Sylvie was in a sort of cocoon of pillows, being soothed by the chill of the ice, and feeling better. “Twenty minutes on the ice, Loren, then Transport it out. She's not to move a muscle without me being called in here.” The med mage turned to Sylvie. “You, young lady, had a very narrow escape. You're not completely out of the woods yet. If you're not sleepy, talk with the idiot that has tried to go without sleep to watch over you.” With that, the med mage left the room.

Sylvie chuckled tiredly. “I guess she told me.”

“She did. Jamila is like that. One of the best med mages I ever met though.”

Sylvie grinned, already drifting off. It wasn't long before she was asleep again.

Loren waited twenty minutes before Transporting the ice, and the towels it had been wrapped in, to the the bathing rooms down the way.  He stared at the woman he risked everything for. If it became known that the Timeos order cared for, and was allies with, a woman branded as a Traitor.. Well, death would be a welcome relief from the fall-out. 

Still, though she was young enough to be his daughter twice over, Sylvie was a friend. He'd take the consequences and damn those who thought he would do otherwise.  When they caught the real Traitor, Loren planned to dance on his grave just for what the traitor had done to Sylvie, let alone the rest of the country.

He picked up the juice jug and the sticky cup, and stared at the woman laying there. “At ten, you were brilliant enough that one of our most renowned research mages took you under her wing and taught you how to handle your magic. That's incredible.” Loren shook his head as he left the room.

He dropped off the pitcher of juice and cup in the kitchen, ate a quick meal, and finally went to his room to rest as the Jamila had been asking him to do for the past three days. 

Loren laid in bed and thought about Sylvie for a bit. She given more information about herself in that short conversation than she had in the past 14 years of friendship. It was a valuable gift, and one he treasured. He settled into his comfortable down pillows, and was just drifting off when one last thought flitted through his head. Where in Terrapin would a young girl have access to both an arms master and an extensive mage library?