The massive stone Norsey reared before him, ever the sentinel. Behind its bulk crouched a town. Thletix was no more than an afterthought in the shadow of that imposing edifice. No building was more adorned, or more revered than the Norsey. The life of the Shee began there. Young bodies were nursed behind those grand walls; young minds were formed. The large stones of the outer wall were held in place by hardened zeowax. Zamani neared the Norsey's single entrance, an oversized door of rough ancient sedge. Iron hinges held it fast in the wall, and an old but sturdy lock made it secure. He drew his hand along the cold, rough stone. He touched the garlands.

Far to the right, he noted a circular stage. It was a plain, raised platform made from sedge, but it was central to Shee ceremony. As he rounded the Norsey and entered Thletix, a babble of voices assailed his ears. He stood at the upper end of the town market. Five ramshackle sedge huts lined a broad dirt boulevard that hugged the Norsey's wall, curving around to the town's two smaller buildings, a temporary lodging for the Mithal, and the school. While the huts were filled with barter, the Shee huddled outside of them, leaning over weighted carts, engaged in earnest dickering. Children ran among their parents, calling one to another.

Suddenly at his elbow, Xarhn snapped, “There you are!”

She planted her feet apart, folded her arms over ample, but delicate breasts, and pouted. A frown tugged at her lower lip as one foot patted the large grains of boulevard dirt. Reds flashed dangerously. What to do? He extended his knuckles.

“Midday greetings?”

“Much too late for charm,” her sulking voice declared.

Scanning her rainbow, Zamani discovered hues of green at her elbows and fingertips; Xarhn was fighting back shame, and he had caused it. He had done the very thing Pax had asked him not to do; he had hurt her. A hard lump formed in his throat.

“I’ve shamed you before friends,” he said. “I’m sorry. I was annoyed, but I did not mean to hurt you.”

Hoping to soothe and comfort the girl, he reached out to caress her cheek; he had seen Pax caress Teefa in that manner, but the result was more than he expected. Xarhn's face was smooth and warm. The ache in him returned. He felt stupid and awkward. As he withdrew his hand, the girl reached quickly to hold it in place. She flooded brown, with passion's red upon her throat. Zamani could not understand the discomfort he felt, and he wanted it to stop. He sought a distraction.

“So . . . where is the school?” he asked.

She took his hand and pulled him toward the market. Zamani took a step and stopped; he just wasn’t ready for everyone. Already the eyes of the town were on him. Fingers pointed in his direction. Hushed voices spoke of the strange boy from Zhereen. A tight fear gripped his chest.

“Not this way,” he pleaded.

Xarhn instantly sensed he was ill at ease; the realization was a jolting pain that wrenched her heart. The stranger from the forest, all strength and assurance, suddenly seemed frightened and vulnerable. She took him around the cleg-ward side of the Norsey and led him through the narrow lane that passed by the temporary lodge. She brought him to the school with a comforting smile; they were the first to arrive. In the darkened interior, Xarhn busied herself with the opening of four sedge windows. She made quick work of them and hastened to reclaim his hand.

“We can wait here,” she whispered. “No one will trouble you.”

They sat on a stone bench beneath an open window. Two other benches occupied the small room; one bench was near the door, and the other was by the back wall. There was a closed door in the back wall that seemed made to elicit curiosity. He wondered what lay behind it. Xarhn slid her paitcap beneath the bench, and Zamani followed suit with his shroomsack.

“Do you like it?” she asked brightly.

He answered, “I feel smarter already,” winning a playful slap on the hand. He confessed, “I don’t know what to say, and they all stare at me . . . like . . .”

“Don’t worry,” she soothed.

“I feel like I don’t belong.”

“I’ll help you, Zami, I’m right here. And you do belong.”

“It’s hard for me to be polite all the time,” he sighed. “I never know the right thing to do here. Do I have to touch the Teller's hand?” he asked, turning to look into her eyes.

Xarhn laughed sweetly, “No, silly; that’s just for boys. Relax. Before you make a complete idiot of yourself, I’ll tap your foot like this,” she said with a small demonstration. “That way, you’ll know to do or say something else.”

“My thanks,” he offered.

Xarhn had been cheery, he knew, in an attempt to assuage his concerns, but now she turned to him with a serious voice. Something was on her mind; he could tell just by her flooding.

“Zami . . .” she began hesitantly.

“Yes.”

“. . . will you be my own?”

He didn’t see that one coming. He took a deep breath and answered her quiet question with a question of his own. “Can you live in the forest?” he asked.

“What? You mean, leave my family?”

“Why not?”

“So what you’re saying is I should trade my family for the monsters - let you drag me off to who knows where?”

“You make it sound really bad.”

“And you make it sound like I’m just something you can throw in your bag and do with as you please.”

He could see she was on the verge of being upset, but so was he. He came for school, not for nonsense. He had to settle it.

“Listen to me,” he said. “Just this morning, your father said to me: accept my treasure as your own.”

“He did?”

“Don’t you see? He has already put you in my bag.”

She leapt to her feet. “Then, you’ll belong to me?” she asked happily.

“No, you silk-headed girl.”

“But . . .” She was suddenly lost.

“Understand me. If your father has given you to me, then you belong to me, not I to you.”

Xarhn giggled, sat down, and took his hand. “Silly boy,” she said. “It’s just an expression.”

“That’s all fine,” he returned, “but know this: Zamani is not possessed. Zamani possesses. I will go and come as I please, and if you’re good . . . ”

“What?”

“I’ll let you . . . tag along.”

She took his arm and pressed herself to him tightly. “I’ll be good,” she piped. “I’ll be the best.”