Note- you probably shouldn’t read this until you’ve read the other Saron/Shanti stuff- unless you like spoilers. This is a big one. Well, it’s kind of inevitable, but still. FYI. And this stuff has thought fonts too, so if they don’t display just be on the alert for thoughts form the characters.

Shanti looked around her; half delighted, half shocked.

"I don’t believe it!" she cried. "What is all this…" she trailed off. Words failed her.

The room (Chris’s) was lit with what seemed like thousands of candles, multicolored and twinkling. The windows were hung with colored paper streamers, and fresh flowers nodded their vibrant heads from pottery vases. On her desk sat a pile of packages.

"Surprise!" shouted Chris, Brian, George, Jacques, Ranis, Colin, Dennis, Cor, Abe, Dayel, Edmond, Geldar, Terry, and Ollie. Dayel struck a chord on his ever-present harp, and they sang, with varying degrees of tunefulness,

Happy, joyful day of birth,

Cheer and shout for all you’re worth!

Forget your sorrows, thy are past;

And these good dimes are sure to last,

So celebrate, and do not miss,

Your sweet beloved’s birthday kiss!

At the end of the traditional ballad, Dayel, with a final strum to his harp, fell theatrically to his knees, and, grabbing Shanti’s hand, pantomimed a prolonged (and very noisy) kiss. She playfully swatted at him, and he grinned unrepentantly, then handed her his present.

It was an oblong package wrapped in deep purple silk, and tied with a golden ribbon. Shanti untied the bow, and pulled off the silk, revealing an intricately carved ivory box.

"It’s beautiful," Shanti murmured.

"Open it!" the harpist encouraged.

Gently and carefully, Shon lifted the ingeniously hinged lid. She gasped.

On a soft bed of amethyst velvet, sparkling in the candlelight, lay a beautiful necklace of glittering topazes. The golden stones reflected the rosy candlelight, seeming to glow, ember-like, from within. The group ‘ooh’ed and ‘aah’ed.

"It’s wonderful, Dayel!" Shanti cried, throwing her arms around the rather embarrassed boy. Lifting the necklace out of the box, she asked, "Will you clasp it for me?" Dayel nodded, remarking,

"I asked my sisters what they thought a girl would want. They seemed to think I had a girl." They all laughed. "Ania told me to get ‘my girl’ some sort of jewelry. I saw the necklace, ant thought of you, seeing as how it matches your eyes." Shon smiled, and hugged him again. Dayel’s pale face took on a decidedly pink tinge.

"Me next!" cried Terry. He handed Shon a long, thin wooden box. Shon opened it, and whistled, long and low.

A long, slim-bladed dagger lay beside its gold-tooled black sheath. The hilt was bound in black leather, its pommel-stone a smooth round of amber set in gold. Imprinted on the blade, just below where it met the crossbar, was a seven-pointed star, the mark of House Nerias, the best sword-smiths in Saradon.

"Thanks, Terry," exclaimed Shon fervently. She picked up the dagger, testing the blade with her thumb. "Sharp as the Warrior’s own, I’ll wager," she murmured ruefully, sucking her bleeding digit.

"No," he assured her, "I didn’t nick it off Vitoran's belt."

"I’m sure his holiness would have struck you down with a lightning bolt if you had, so I’m much relieved," Shanti replied, eyes dancing at the thought of Terry trying to steal the warrior-god’s weapon.

"Nevertheless, nothing but the best for our Shon," Terry boasted; then, with a look to Dayel, asked, "Is Nerias the best?" Dayel nodded, adding,

"I should know- it’s my mother’s family!"

The gift-giving went on; amethyst earrings from Jacques, a book of the dramas she loved (and quoted often) from Ollie, a beautiful painting from Cor (he blushed mightily as he admitted he’d done it), an embroidered jacket from Brian, a tooled leather belt from George, three slim gold bracelets from Dennis, a gracefully curved bow inlayed with mother-of-pearl with a matching quiver from Ranis, a fringed and rainbow-hued scarf from Geldar (as well as a box of succulent sweets which she immediately shared with everyone), a flute from Edmond (which he promised to teach her to play, an embroidered silken purse from Abe, a little silver box from Colin that, when opened, played a hauntingly sweet melody, until, at last, there was only one package left. Chris’s gift.

It was covered in gold paper, and tied with a purple cord. Shanti pulled the fringed end, and the twisted silken strands slid off the parcel in smooth, serpentine movements. She carefully unfolded the gilt paper and, for the second time that day, gasped aloud.

Inside the paper was a dress. Although, in fact, the simple term ‘dress’ was far from accurate.

It was a cloud of violet chiffon.

A river of purple velvet.

A cascade of gold silk.

A masterpiece.

The overrobe was of deep amethyst velvet, with billowing, bell-like sleeves reaching a foot above the floor, splitting at the waist to show the skirt. Inset in the bodice was a V-shaped piece of lavender silk with an intricate design of vines and flowers embroidered in indigo silk. The underrobe was of shimmering golden silk fanning out at the waist into thousands of tiny pleats and folds; the skirt with a delicate shroud of lilac chiffon over it, the floaty fabric held in place by several rows of miniscule amber and gold beads.

Also in the package were a pair of delicate gold shoes, with slender one-inch heels and slightly pointed toes; and a slim golden circlet, set with a single amethyst.

"Oh, Chris," whispered Shon, "I don’t know what to say… it’s… exquisite…" she trailed off, fingering the plush velvet; running her fingers gently over the smooth expanse of silk.

"You could say ‘thank you,’ " the by suggested with a smile.

"Thank you…" she whispered, smoothing the chiffon. Her mind was clearly somewhere else.

"Put it on," suggested Terry.

"Yeah!" the rest encouraged.

With a dreamy smile not unlike the expression one gets when one has overdosed in strong drinks, eyes never leaving the gown, Shon gently lifted it from its nest of gold paper, and carried it (and the shoes and circlet) into her dressing room. She didn’t remember to close the door, and it stood ajar until Terry yelped when he saw Shon’s tunic sail gracefully onto the marble counter, and had a good view of a long, willowy, bare leg.

Ranis yelled, in a somewhat muffled voice (he’d covered his face with his hands as soon as he’d seen the tunic take flight), for Shon to ‘close the ruddy door, please! In response to this outburst, she yanked the door shut with one bronze arm.

"Ooh," Terry moaned, "I didn’t want to see that!"

"You wouldn’t have seen anything if you hadn’t been looking," Shon called through the now closed door. Dayel nudged Terry, laughing.

"She got you there, O’Connoly!"

"You hush," the red-faced boy replied, elbowing Dayel back. "I didn’t notice you lookin’ away!"

Further banter was discontinued as Shanti emerged from the room.

The room went still. The boys gaped.

Shon was transformed; from a tomboyish fighter to a refined lady, all in an instant.

The gown cinched in at her narrow waist, and fell in generous folds to her golden-shod feet. The bodice fitted perfectly; and the sleeves, tight until the elbow, flared down to her knees, the ends tapering to points. Shon had pulled her hair back from her face, securing it with the circlet, revealing strong, yet lovely features.

Her skin was more gold than bronze on her face, with a dusting of rose on her cheeks, and her lips a dark plum hue. Without the thick waves of hair that customarily softened her profile, it was easy to see that her rounded chin had developed a stubborn point; her nose was no longer a button, but had become straight and aristocratic. Her cheekbones stood out more, and her eyes seemed even bigger and more exotic, now that her forehead was bared. She had grown; not only taller, but her curves had begun to fill out, and what was concealed by the loose shirts she wore every day was revealed by the fitted dress.

The girl fidgeted, and asked, rather apprehensively,

"Well, how do I look?"

You’re… you… umm…" Terry faltered, awed in spite of himself by this girl-creature that had replaced his friend. For once, Dayel was lost for words.

Shon’s lip trembled; they had never seen her cry before, not once in all this time.

"I’m terrible, aren’t I?" she whispered, eyes brimming with tears.

Without another word, she dashed from the room.

***

The boys looked at one another, stunned. Ranis pinned Terry with an accusing gaze.

"I didn’t do nothin’!" the boy protested. "Why didn’t you say something?" he asked Dayel. "You’re the word smith!" Dayel shook his head dazedly.

"I… I… I had no idea she was so…"

"Beautiful?" Chris supplied grimly. Dayel nodded. "Yeah. It hits you, all of a sudden, doesn’t it?" This time, all the boys nodded.

"I guess we never looked past the fighter in her," Cor mumbled, ashamed.

"Never saw the silk behind the steel," Dayel supplied. They all nodded in agreement again. Ranis pounded his fist decisively.

"Someone should go after her," he stated firmly.

"Not me!" blustered Terry. "I’d set her off again!"

"Dayel?" asked Ranis. The boy shook his head, brushing fair hair from his eyes.

"Pretty words’ll be of no use to her now. She needs someone she really…" he trailed off.

"What?" the others asked, curious in spite of their anxiety. Dayel waved their questions away, deep in thought.

He suddenly snapped his fingers.

"Chris." The older boy looked up. Dayel peered closely at him, blue eyes searching for… something. Chris did not like the look. It made him feel as if his body was a transparent shell, and the desires and hopes and fears inside it were laid bare for this boy’s- no, that didn’t seen right- being’s? Closer. -Entity’s scrutiny.

Dayel nodded decisively, satisfied by what he saw in Chris’s eyes. "You go." Shock appeared in the boy’s green eyes, then veiled itself.

"Me? Why?" Dayel smiled slightly, replying,

"I think she needs to hear it from you."

Chris stood.

"All right, then. Wish me luck."

"Luck," more than a dozen voices chorused.

Chris loped off, thinking hard. I could have sworn Dayel winked at me, just before I closed the door, and tapped his ring finger. Does he- Chris stopped that train of thought. Impossible. Dayel’s smart- almost uncannily smart. But not that smart. Still- could it be?

***

Shanti ran; through empty classrooms and corridors and stairwells (everyone else was taking advantage of the weekend and visiting the city, and the Academy was virtually deserted), until at last she reached her room. She flew in, slammed the door behind herself, and, leaning against the wall, began to sob.

They couldn’t even describe how awful I looked! she thought miserably, tears coursing down her cheeks unchecked. And Chris- her heart clenched as she though of how he had stared at her, speechless, and she gave a low moan of despair.

Shon slumped to the floor, weeping uncontrollably.

***

Chris knocked tentatively on Shanti’s door.

"Shon?" he asked.

Receiving no response, he slowly opened the door.

"Shon?" he repeated, looking around. "Sh- oh, youngling," he whispered, spying the crumpled figure of the girl. He knelt before her. Shon’s face was hidden by her long black hair, the circlet askew on her head. He brushed the inky tendrils aside with hesitant fingers, and lifted her chin to look into those mesmerizing golden eyes.

Her eyes- it broke his heart to see the pain in them, as they filled with tears and the girl began to cry anew. Chris gently, carefully lifted her up, and carried the weeping girl to her favorite chair; the big one in front of the fire. He set her down, reluctantly, and, drawing a kerchief from his pocket, he softly wiped the tears from her face.

When he stopped, Shon opened her eyes. They were slightly red from weeping, and her face was splotchy, but to Chris, she was still incredibly, amazingly beautiful.

"Chris," she whispered, an unspoken plea reflected in her eyes.

He saw it, and wrapped his long arms around her, pulling her close. She buried her face in his shirtfront, a few treacherous tears trickling from her tightly closed eyes. He stroked her hair, inhaling her scent of cinnamon, cloves, and- something special; wild, intoxicating, that he couldn’t put a name to. He was spellbound, captivated by transcendent delight.

***

Finally, regretfully, Shon lifted her face from the soft warmth of Chris’s chest; although her arms stayed tight around him. Chris, just as reluctantly, untangled his hands from her hair so they hung loosely, keeping Shon in a relaxed embrace.

"Chris?" the girl murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Why didn’t you guys say anything?" Chris tensed. "Am I really that… ugly?" A single tear coursed down her cheek, leaving a shimmering trail. Chris gently wiped it away with his fingers.

"Oh, youngling," he whispered. Is she- what?! Where did she get an idea like that? Chris thought, mystified. "You’re beautiful! Exquisite, lovely, enchanting, incredible, marvelous, wondrous, divine, entrancing…" his voice faded into silence. He shook his head. "You’re the sun, and the moon, and all the stars in the sky…" Shanti reached up, and brushed a golden-blond lock of hair from Chris’s forehead. Her fingers lingered; he brought up his own hand, and grasped hers in a strong, yet gentle grip. His heart suddenly decided to beat double time, and his breath came short.

She’s barely sixteen! one voice shouted at him. So? argued the other. She likes you! Dayel saw! But you don’t know that for sure, counted the first.

Shut up! Chris thought loudly at the voices. They did.

"D’you wanna go back to the others," he asked. Shon sighed, and nodded. Grudgingly she unclasped her hands, and let go of him. He, in turn, did likewise.

Shanti made for the door, but Chris stopped her, touching her shoulder briefly.

"One last thing," he murmured. Drawing her close, he slipped his fingers beneath her chin, and gently tilted her face upwards. Leaning down, he hissed her softly, noticing that her lips tasted of strawberries, and how she closed her eyes at the touch.

"Happy birthday, youngling," he whispered.

And her response was to kiss him again.

***

Ky al Merra smiled, and punched Der again.

"Zorin," he called, shoving the battered and bleeding brown-noser to the floor.

"Aye?" his crony called back, still holding another boy’s arms behind his back, ignoring the faint moans of pain.

"It’s fa Jasiklan's birthday today, isn’t it?" The boy nodded, and wrenched one of the youngster’s arms to a nasty angle. Zorin’s victim cried out. Ky shook his head, smirking.

"Leave off for a while, Zorin. We have work to do." He paused, while Zorin reluctantly released his captive, and watched, amused, as the big merlin’s victim sank to the floor, clutching his twisted arm.

"What work, Ky?" Zorin queried eagerly.

"It’s the little slut’ birthday, isn’t it? We should give her a… present, don’t you think? To show our eternal, ah… friendship." He leaned close to Zorin’s ear and whispered something. Zorin sniggered. Together, they strode off down the corridor.

***

Der staggered to his feet. He crossed to the smaller boy, offering a hand up. The help was accepted with a muttered ‘thanks,’ neither boy meeting the other’s eyes.

Whatever those two are planning, Der said to himself, it can’t be good. I have to warn fa Jasiklan- but how?

***

When Shanti got back to her room (after sitting through numerous apologies for tactlessness, and several renditions of a soppy love song- several because anyone who tried to usurp Dayel’s harp from him got thwacked on the head by the very instrument, so they nursed their bruises and plotted revenge- and demolishing an entire cake given them by Sofiya and several of the maids), she found a tiny package, wrapped in purple paper. She undid the covering, and found a finely wrought golden ring. Hmm, she thought, who could that be from? She slipped it on her left ring finger, and felt a funny tingling sensation. She tried to pull the trinket off, but found that she couldn’t get her fingers to move. In fact, she couldn’t get anything to move! She tried to yell, but her throat had seized up.

Suddenly, a burning pain ran through her veins like wildfire. Her muscles spasmed, then went limp. She collapsed to the floor as her vision faded into blackness, as if ink had been poured into the glass of clear water that was her sight. Magic, she thought vaguely, and fell into darkness.