Princess Alianore quietly fumed on the way back to her quarters. Head held high, green eyes snapping like midsummer fireworks, she stormed through the long echoing corridors looking neither right nor left, completely consumed by her fury. Upon reaching her parlor, she sailed over the threshold, long skirts majestically sweeping the polished stone floor, and slammed the door behind her.

Ooh, she thought angrily, I’ll teach them! Alianore flounced over to her dressing table, picked up a gilded brush, and began running it through her auburn hair with swift, angry strokes. Her mother’s words buzzed in her skull like angry bees: “A princess must turn her thoughts towards more seemly pastimes…” I’ll show them seemly! Laying aside the brush, Alianore’s quick fingers divided her hair into three strands and swiftly plaited them together. Then she raced to her wardrobe, soft-soled slippers making almost no sound on the smooth pink flagstones. Riffling through her many fine gowns, her fingers at last paused on a simple over-robe of green silk, trimmed in dark green braid. This will have to do, she decided. Unbuttoning the blue satin dress she had worn that day, Alianore slipped into a cream-colored under-dress and pulled the green over-robe over her head. Then she exchanged her blue silk slippers for the soft brown boots she wore for hikes—used to wear, Alianore corrected annoyedly, before mother put a stop to them, too—and pulled a black hooded cloak around her shoulders.

Standing before her mirror, Alianore examined her reflection. Not too bad, she mused, pleased. There’s nothing about my appearance to brand me as a royal. Then, with some chagrin, she noted her signet ring. Except for that, she amended. Alianore slipped the heavy gold band from her right forefinger and threaded it onto a golden chain, which she fastened around her neck. There, she thought, satisfied that she was as innocuous as she could be. She rummaged in the bottom drawer of her bureau and came up with a carry-sack, another relic from her hiking days. Unbuckling the flap holding it closed, she upended it, releasing a few musty crumbs and several dead leaves. Into the sack she placed her magic books (not yet discovered by her mother), some socks and undergarments, her brush, some of her favorite bits of jewelry, and, last of all, her diary, a stylus, and ink. Then, taking a last look at her rooms, Alianore turned and headed out the door.

***

Theran started at the knock on his door.

Now who could that be? His unvoiced question was answered when the visitor, not waiting for his response, opened the door and sailed into his room. Theran blinked. It can’t be… he thought dazedly. He shook his head in disbelief and took a second look. No, it’s her, although she does look different without all the jewelry and fancy clothes. But what could Princess Alianore want with me? He found out soon enough.

“Student Theran?” she asked him, mispronouncing his name like therein but with an aspirant th like thick.

“Theran, actually, your highness,” he corrected.

“Tair-an,” Alianore repeated, nodding. “But no highness. Just call me Alia for now… are you ready to leave?”

“What?” Theran asked, completely nonplussed. A look of surprise flitted across Alianore’s—Alia’s, he reminded himself silently—face, replaced quickly by annoyance.

“You mean they didn’t tell—ohh, now really,” she said crossly, apparently forgetting Theran “I would expect more from Magician Kerrick, he’s usually so on top of things… then again, given all the scryings he’s had to do to keep an eye on Menreth’s War Mages, I’m not surprised it flew right of his head…” She was now clearly lost in thought, so Theran maintained a polite silence and waited for her to remember him. After several long minutes, though, he could not resist a slight cough. Alia’s eyes flew open and focused, bright as emeralds, on him again. “Oh dear,” she said contritely. “How long have you been waiting for me?”

“Just a few minutes,” Theran reassured her, still rather confused as to what exactly was going on.

“Well, get your things together! We must leave at once!”

“To go where—” Theran began, but she cut him off.

“Didn’t I explain that?” she asked, the hurried on. “You’re escorting me to Senswel on the way to my Aunt Lissela’s castle in Upper Endwal—the journey should last two days or so, so pack accordingly. Oh, and make sure to bring some water-proof gear—weather in the Heights can be very wet, and you can bet on snow in the passes even in summer.”

Theran obediently took a satchel from his armoire and started throwing clothes in it. On top of these he set his spell-books and writing materials.

“Ready?” Alia’s query was impatient; clearly she wanted to get started on their journey. And so, taking a last look under his bed and in his desk to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything essential, Theran and Alia left the third-largest Residence Hall, proceeded to the stables to find horses, and rode out the West Gate into the countryside.

***

Thank the Lady, Alia thought fervently. I was sure he’d see right through that bender… guess I’m better at telling tales than I thought I was. Either that or he wasn’t paying a lot of attention to what I was saying. She chanced a sidelong glance at Theran, and was disconcerted to find his grey eyes staring straight back at her. She hurriedly slid her eyes past his, rocking her head from side to side as if she had merely been relieving a neck ache. Guess he’s pretty aware now, at least, but I’m not sure—the boy’s voice derailed her train of thought.

“Where exactly are we going, again?” he asked. It might have been Alia’s imagination, but she thought she heard a suspicious edge in his otherwise conversational tone. She racked her brains quickly, thinking, Now, what did I tell him again? Oh yes—

“Senswel,” Alia replied, chancing another glance at Theran, but unable to discern anything in his smooth face and clear grey eyes. “You’ll leave me there with the escort that will take me to my Aunt Lissela,” she continued quickly, hoping that the tension which was now creating a real pain in her neck had not shown in her voice or her face. Theran nodded, hooded grey eyes now intent on the horizon. With a silent sigh of relief, Alia turned her own attention back on the terrain ahead of them.

It was not an entirely welcoming tableau. The Lesser Malyx Mountains looked quite as threatening as their larger counterparts, even at a distance. The jagged peaks were white, even in midsummer, and arched against the deep blue sky like the bones of some ancient mammoth. Legend had it that the great dragon Malyx the Black had laid himself over the land to die, forming the Greater Malyx Mountains with his spine and the Lesser Malyx Mountains with his tail. Of course, this would have made Malyx over one hundred miles long (not counting any parts of him laying under water), which, even for a dragon of such reputation, was unlikely.

Away to the right lay Star Lake, shining like white fire in the afternoon sunlight. Alia hoped to skirt around its southern shore, camp at the foot of the mountains, and cross them the next day by the Needle Pass, hopefully making it as far as Senswel in Endwal by the following evening. From there, she intended to bid farewell to the magician-in-training, head north between the mountains and Feldon Forest, re-cross the mountains by the Bottleneck, travel east across Carhelan, and finally venture into the Greater Malyx Mountains and find Rooks’ Reach. Here, Alia hoped to learn magic far from the interfering influence of her parents. All of this traveling she hoped to accomplish in perhaps two weeks, though there was no telling how she would fare in the mountains.

She told none of this to Theran, naturally, since it was essential to her plan that he believe she was indeed heading to Castle Endwal and her Aunt Lissela. Hopefully, no one would think of searching for her east of the mountains until she was far out of anyone’s reach.

***