Merel rose later in the day than usual. This was to be expected, she thought, blinking in the sun that was streaming through the window. Merel opened her trunk, though, and pulled out a clean chemise and pair of drawers and stays, stockings, and her other overdress. She was not so wealthy as to afford more than traveling clothes and two overdresses. Today’s was one of a plain dark grey-blue, and she wore the very same shawl she did nearly every day. The yellow and white shawl was a gift from Tadg’s older sister, who had spectacular colors of clothing that Merel felt fell flat on her but for the yellow. In a split second choice, Merel decided to polish her leg after her bath. After all, she’d have to re-pad the socket where it fastened onto her stump and wash the gauze. It felt clammy with sweat in it, and it made her uncomfortable as a sensation.
    Merel never bothered with stealth or tiptoeing about even if she suspected others were asleep; Ullic could not see so there was little to no need of her to be shy about walking about in her chemise and drawers, and her wooden leg, which tapped against the stone when she walked, had no chance of ever going unnoticed. To creep was an exercise in futility. Clutching her clothes and linens close, she walked comfortably along. Which room was the bath? She couldn’t be certain, she thought— until she walked past one with steam rising from keyhole.
    “Hello?” She rapped her knuckles against the door. At Lodgrey, there were private baths for staff, and it was alright to ask when a person would be out. But when she knocked against it, the door creaked open, easily, as if it had not been latched, and before Merel had a chance to register that she would likely be confronted by an unwelcome sight, she indeed saw.
    A man very near her age— probably in his mid twenties, by her estimate, was sunk deep into murky green water. His hair, longer than hers, half down his back and a brilliant dark red, swirling around him like wisps of tea that had steeped for too long, floated in the water. He was skinny, and ruddy complected, his skin dotted with freckles, and his face was gaunt and blocky. When he realized she had opened the door, he sunk lower down into the water, and Merel froze in terror.
    Merel slammed the door behind her in alarm, and walked back to her room. She had of course seen men before, and women too, but a stranger, well, that was a bit much. She sat down on her trunk, holding her forehead in her hand. Great first impression, she thought unhappily. Wonderful work. She was not pleased with herself, and she could already feel herself grow frustrated. She waited about twenty minutes, maybe half of an hour, and then poked her head out.
The door was open, which meant the coast was probably clear. She hurried as best as she could, and set the hot water running. The bathroom was all tile and stone mosaics; very small, but the tub was separated from the window by a privacy screen. A basin sat at the sink, and she spied a small mirror. She assumed the privy was behind the door in the corner. Merel had brought her own lye and vegetable oil soap, and some lanolin balm for moisture and her rashes, but nothing any more intensive or luxuriant. She stripped and detached her prosthetic, soaked, scrubbed her skin pink with a flannel and soap, and used lanolin on the ends of her hair and on the sore spots of her skin. Drying herself off, she rested for a moment on the bench beside the tub. It was good, she thought, to let the water rise off her skin and the steam soften her, and even if that wasn’t the finest part of her morning, it at least could not hurt. The embarrassment she had felt previously melted away. And, she liked to rest without her wooden leg, with its stiff joints, clicking against the balls and bends when she walked. While she liked being able to walk mostly in a more balanced fashion, and it kept her clothes looking ordinary, Merel also enjoyed letting the skin rest and breathe. When she was younger, she had often hated to take it off, and had gotten sores on her skin at the residual limb. But caring for herself better had led her to caring for all parts of herself, including the sensitive skin where she had once had a knee.
    Merel stretched, and refastened her prosthetic, pulled on her stockings and underclothes, then her overdress and shawl. It felt good to be clean and in clean clothing. Pulling on her house shoe, she walked out, and set her clothing aside to wash later. She changed chemises and stockings daily, and did her laundry weekly, but mostly, she was just relieved that she had turned her morning around.
    She grabbed her cane and walked downstairs. Ullic was already up and about, sitting in the armchair she had not seen under an ocean of papers.
    “Good morning, Miss Pedler,” said Ullic, not turning his head to see her, but cocking his head at the sound of steps on the stairs. “Today we get to work.”
    “I meant to speak with you about that, sir,” said Merel hesitantly. “I don’t mean to fully commit until I understand the nature of the position.”
    “Of course.” Ullic paused. “What is there not to understand about the term assistant?”
    “There’s the matter of payment, sir,” she said, straight to the point.
    “That’s right.” Ullic sighed. “You’re young, and have worries for such things.” He leaned backwards into the chair, a piece of paper crunching behind him. He pulled it from behind him and tossed it onto the floor. “All expenses of research supply are to be paid, as well as board and food, any other expense shall come from your personal budget. I cannot afford to line pockets.”
    “So this is unpaid, then?” She leaned against one of the tables.
    “You are paid in research material and equipment, the roof over your head, and the food in your belly. Anything beyond that is your own business.”
    “I have—“ Merel held her tongue. “I will need to decide if I can accept this position then. I have a great deal to think of.”
    “I am aware, of course, from your headmistress of your arrangement. I trust that your personal affairs will remain personal. I do not wish to have a family of leeches on my bankroll.”
Merel held her tongue. She knew fully well what was thought of her fiancé’s family, and did not disagree. But she had promised she would pay them back for her tuition if they would send her. Leeches, perhaps, but Merel owed them regardless. And that aside, she did not think unfondly of them, even if she wasn’t wholly fond of them either. Even with that, Merel did anticipate being able to fund in some small way perhaps nicer clothing since she knew the trappings of education were also those of wealth, so she would have to occasionally present the part, and also, her medicines were still needed. It was not realistic for Merel to go fully unpaid. Her tenure at Lodgrey had included food and board, and she’d had to buy her own research supply, but her weekly stipend comfortably covered most expenses at five gold coin a week. She had happily rationed it out to two for her family, two for her debt, and whatever remained in medical expenses and aromatics for her supply. But that meant that only a fifth of that would presently be covered, and five a week was not a small amount of money.
    “I would ask that you consider my expenses incurred through travel and that resettling here will not be cheap—“
    “And I trust you will find a way to accrue whatever you need if you are so clever as your headmistress and I believe you are.” He did not budge. “This is not negotiable.”
    “Not negotiable?” Merel’s face twisted as if she had bit a lemon. “If I choose to decline the position because of this, I ask for your understanding, then.”
    “You won’t get a better offer.” Ullic folded his arms. “I understand your reputation is one which many people find disagreeable— I don’t especially care about that, in earnest. However, I know most institutes and ateliers do. Here, you could inherit my position when I retire and all the prestige that comes with it. Being my assistant, after all, really means that you are being trained as my replacement.”
    “What about the other one?” Merel wasn’t sure she believed him. The idea of being selected to train as the court wizard to the king of Moras was by her admission, ridiculous.
    “I do the job of many people. Both of you might be suited for it, I don’t know. Demonstrate your abilities in the coming months and I’ll decide.”
    “You’re saying there would be two court wizards?” Merel almost fussed even more at this. The idea of something of such prestige being split like a sweet cake between discontent siblings was ridiculous.
    “If you both meet my expectations.”
    “Of all the indignities—“ she nearly began, but she bit her tongue. This was an indignity. A joke. Merel had been asked to come here because he had assumed she had no other offers, that he wanted to test and see if she was going to be as good as some other student, and that whatever accolade she received, she might have to share. All of this for no pay! She thought about walking out now. “You are asking a great deal from me.”
    “At great potential for reward. This level of prestige is not one attainable to the majority of wizards or prospective mages. Do not forget, of course, that you are living in the same walls as the court, king, and his great advisors and attendants, and even now speak to a personal friend of his. You might be able to attain that, as well. I do not wish to deceive you. My loss of vision is my primary incentive for hiring any assistants at all. Were I not motivated in such a way, I would let my replacement be chosen by the king’s council. But unfortunately, I have reached a point where I can no longer complete my work without another. No amount of magic can bring my eyes back, yet I have left much unfinished. You can leave if you so wish.”
    Merel would have been angry were she not fully aware that he was right. Very few ateliers would take her. It was partly because she was born very poor and had incurred a substantial amount of debt to get her education, which few mages in training ever did. Most were able to offer their experiences and field specialties as a form of payment if they weren’t able to put up enough coin for it, but she had neither before her attendance.  In addition, her health was a cause for great concern as expense went. Last of all— very few wizards were ever meant to wed, and it was a practice widely frowned upon. Her engagement was not considered wise. To take on Merel Pedler was to take on great expense to the establishment in question.
    “I will stay,” she said, at last after a few minutes. “However, I will need scheduled time for my acquisitive work. I can work with you, of course, but I need coin.”
Ullic paused. “That can be arranged. My other assistant, however, will be out of the tower for the majority of his time. You will be the one working with me more personally. If I need you to work with me, then you must be there.”
    “Fine,” said Merel, hesitant, her temper only barely cooling. “I can work with that. What will my primary responsibilities be?”
    “You will be my eyes. I will instruct you, you can act as my scribe—your headmistress says this is a unique gift of yours, that of writing quickly, neatly, and accurately— you can help me organize this, find me things. All things which I cannot do on my own. That aside, keeping this place in working order is no easy task, and without my vision, it is not feasible for me. That will be your task.” Librarian, clerk, housemaid, and chemist, she thought discontentedly— though, if she was to be honest, she thought it could not be so bad.