Pursuing Knowledge

Epilogue

❄Manipulations❄

The creak of the door startled Corrion awake. She sat straight up in bed, her heart racing and her long blond hair falling down around her face, as a woman poked her head into the room. Lamplight from the main room spilled through the doorway. A meow like growl resonated at Corrion's feet. Glaring up from the light green quilt, Tora, her tawny colored cat, turned her back to Corrion, trying to go back to sleep. Corrion regarded the room, realizing, yet again, she slept in new surroundings. Between the dog cabin, kitchen, and caves, the castle was by far the most comfortable.

She waited for the woman to speak first, but the silence grew long. The woman, with long darker blonde hair tied into two braids on each side of her head, kept her eyes lowered to the floor. She reminded Corrion of someone, but she couldn't place whom. A cream apron with two big pockets covered her black dress. Corrion realized the woman must not be a healing student due to the color. The students wore cream aprons with multiple pockets over brown dresses. The woman's arms shook from the armload of wood she held.

Oh, I am sorry. Let me help with that. Corrion threw the covers off her body, but before she stood, the woman scurried through the door, across the room, and stopped at the fireplace.

No, that wouldn't be proper. I am here to make up your fire. You must stay in bed until the room warms up. The woman hesitated at the fire and looked at Corrion as if she might turn her into a rabbit. How did the fire stay lit?

Corrion laughed. I didn't use any magic. I went out in the middle of the night and took from the pile we didn't use in the common room. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, please leave me more wood in the evening. I can stoke the fire and then you won't have to worry about it in the morning.

But that is not how we do it here in the castle. The woman shifted the remaining logs and added another.

You can still come in the morning, but I am used to years of minding the stove back home or my mother would yell at me. I sleep better if I hear the crackling. Corrion snapped her fingers. Agna, you look just like her. Are you the aunt she talked about?

Corrion met Agna in the summer when she worked for the Cook. Agna worked as a maid for the students, but hoped to be a maid at the castle one day.

The woman rolled her eyes. Yes, Agna is my niece. She is a bit of a wild one and a gossip. She looked out into the common room and lowered her voice. She mentioned you at the family dinner. She doesn't think you are evil, but she couldn't explain how you healed the soldier.

With a heavy sigh, Corrion nodded. I can't explain it either. That is why I want to be here. I want to learn how to be a healer and use my gift. Agna is kind to believe in me when so many don't, including Princess Icylica.

Both of them jumped at the sound of a door shutting in another part of the apartment. The maid stacked the extra wood next to the mantel and swept the area quickly.

Agna didn't mention your name. Corrion ventured an attempt for more information. What do I call you?

And a good thing, just call me miss or maid. Breakfast will be served in a short time. The woman scurried out of the room after lighting the lamp with a shaky hand. The stick she used almost fell onto the carpet.

A maid, Corrion thought. A maid came to light her fire in the morning. Her mother would mutter about Corrion's laziness. If she knew all those years of being reprimanded for not doing chores to her mother's standards that someday she would have a maid and live in a castle, she might have not minded her mother's attitude as much. Yet, she needed to remember she was a prisoner. She wondered at why the Princess thought her evil enough to keep her as a house captive. In time, Corrion hoped to just be a normal student, living in the dormitory with the other students.

Realization struck her. She jumped out of bed when she remembered she also would be studying at the school. Corrion looked around her room. The luxury of the painted walls in a soft green on the interior with framed oil paintings of shooting stars, crocus, and blue bells made her smile. The room was designed for a female guest. The long drapes across the brick outside wall insulated from the harsh cold winter nights. Yet, care was taken to keep the window from being completely covered to allow for the sunlight to seep through the frosted windows. Even in her dreams of having a real room instead of the loft, she never envisioned such splendor. The quilt on her bed matched the wall in a shade darker green with blocks of purples and blues that matched the colors in the flowers. She longed for spring when the earth warmed and colors blossomed.

She walked to the painting of the shooting star. The delicate flower didn't grow in the flatlands around her house. The artist, in a swirling of the brush, wrote the name on the bottom right corner. Underneath was written the name Andrina. Corrion wondered at whom this might be and if she lived at the castle. She couldn't imagine taking time out of cleaning and cooking to make art. Her mother would call it a waste of time. Corrion thought it wonderful. She looked at her hands. Could she draw? Before coming to the castle, she hadn't even written. She realized that she wanted to see the way other people lived. She knew life at the castle wouldn't be dreary like home, but did home have to be dreary. Her father whittled. Maybe a housewife could draw. Maybe her mother had other choices then to pine away her life in drudgery. Corrion shock her head. Why did she waste time thinking of her mother? She had a class to attend.

The light of the fire and the filtered sunlight through frosted glass panes lit the room well enough that she blew out the lamp. She thought of seeing Sarah in her classes with an afterthought of Stephne. The later girl dampened her spirits. Corrion grew up with both girls in a small farming community. Sarah was a dear friend whose two sisters were to marry Corrion's brothers. Corrion and Sarah had daydreamed about going to the castle together to study at the school. Corrion only saw Sarah a couple of times since she arrived, but hoped to see her more often now that the Princess finally let her attend the school, even if under guard.

She wished she wouldn't have to see Stephne. She lived in the small village by Corrion's family farm. Stephne's father owned the general store and she received all the beautiful dresses and ribbons a girl would want. She also delighted in making Corrion miserable. Corrion hoped Stephne attended different classes, though she doubted such good fortune since they were both first year students.

After putting on the simple brown dress hanging in her closet, she wondered when she would receive the white apron. She ran a brush through her blonde hair and braided the pieces to keep the strands out of her way. Taking her jewelry off the nightstand, she placed the items around her neck and under the front of her dress so no one would see. The first she received from a young soldier she met on her journey to the castle. The ring, with an engraved snowflake, had belonged to his aunt, a healer who disappeared years prior. The second necklace was a medallion with a troll and human engraved on the metal. This she received at a naming ceremony with the trolls. Leder Hinn, her friend Guri's adoptive father and leader of the trolls, wanted to swear his commitment to the Chosen One. She took these dear friends with her in her heart for courage and support.

Her stomach erupted from nerves. To help calm them, she picked up her impossible pet. Tora, a tawny and black Manx cat, had followed her all the way from their farm to the castle. At the beginning of the trip, when the cat disappeared, she worried she died or lost her way. But each morning, Corrion found the cat at the bottom of her bedroll. Tora almost died with the encounter of the trolls, but the tough feline stayed with her and always knew when it was time to travel on to another destination. Corrion couldn't ask for a more faithful companion.

Oh, Tora, I am so nervous. She rubbed under the cat's chin, smiling as the purring started.

The cat jumped from her arms, back onto the bed. Corrion wondered if she should make the bed. Flipping the covers into place, she fluffed the pillow. With a confidence she didn't feel, she grabbed the three books Gudrun lent her the night before and left the room determined to conquer the day. First on the list was asking Gudrun about the Daoine Rain. Corrion read about these people the night before and wanted to know more information.

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Stephne smiled as she adjusted her dark green skirt that kept her legs warm. The rosy fire in the hearth failed to penetrate the cold atmosphere of the vision. Her memories of nights spent listening to her father read aloud to her as a child in the small parlor warmed her heart. Her hair was piled high on her head in clusters with green ribbons tied into the multitude of braids. Her back straightened as she waited the arrival of her mother. Cream colored gloves appeared on her hands and dangling ear bobs swayed as she jiggled her head a bit. Before she could add a necklace to her ensemble, her mother appeared in the high backed chair across from her matching plain burgundy chair.

A frown creased the wrinkled face of her mother, showing her age. As the older woman collected herself in the vision, her skin smoothed and became youthful. She wore a royal blue gown, like what Princess Icylica would wear. Her mother preferred to meet in Stephne's rooms at the palace, but due to a recent bout with sickness, her strength only allowed for her to meet in their home above the general store her father ran.

How did the trial go? the older woman’s green eyes pierced into Stephne.

Sitting tall, Stephne resisted the urge to cringe under her mother's gaze. Her taunt muscles screamed to fidget, but she remained still. I sat with Princess Icylica, talking about the options. Unfortunately, she had just finished a healing session and she had her full strength. My influence crashed against her power. I suggested I attend the trial, but she refused to let me. Stephne left out the part that Marketta, a powerful healer who attended the trial, buffeted her power.

What is the damage? The old woman's hands clenched the gloves she held in her hands.

Corrion is under house arrest with the Green Lady as her warden. She will start classes in the morning with either me or Gudrun to guard her. The smile on Stephne’s lips slipped. I tried to get her sent to the city or the dungeons. I can’t believe I have to sit in class with her and Sarah.

Quit sniveling, Stephne. Her mother slapped the gloves against her voluptuous hip. What is your plan?

I will make her life miserable. She will be so far behind. The girls and I will harass her until she gives up. I am also going to visit the instructors this morning before classes start. Stephne tugged at a dangling earring. The pain helped her focus her anger. Corrion thought life with her mother was harsh. She will have the instructors and her classmates telling her how pathetic she is with no da or big brothers to soften the blows. I think she will be back in the village by spring.

Make sure she does. Stephne’s mother stood and walked to the fire. Her finger ran along the mantel and gave a nod of approval when it came up clean. She expected cleanliness even in the dream state. How is the other part of the plan coming along?

The Princess is stronger than either of us thought. However, she walks with him every evening. Last night after the trial and her strength depleted, I sent thoughts of lips. They shared a kiss.

A kiss. Stephne's mother whirled around on the heel of her slipper. I shared a kiss with your father the first day I met him. You have been working this for moons.

Yes, Mother, but I have to get past her healing power. I just discovered her weakest time of day is early morning before she wakes. Our plan will move quicker now.

See that it does. I am sick of living in this hovel. Her hand swept across the small room. I feel no closer to our goal.

With her mother agitated, Stephne knew that she would disappear soon. How is Da?

As useless as ever, a snarl escaped her lips.

Mother, please don’t say that. Da loves us dearly. He provides well and works hard. Stephne loved her father. Every morning he gave her a kiss on the top of her head as he left the table at breakfast to go downstairs to open the mercantile. As she grew older, he allowed her to help him organize the shelves. When her mother was too busy, he let her pick items to sell from the traveling hawker. Her father brought her peace.

Then you can come live with him and I will reside in the palace. Her hands swooped through the air. I desire the luxury of the palace for all the years of putting up with his laziness.

Before Stephne could reply, the vision of her mother faded. Closing her eyes briefly, the room changed to her parents’ bedroom. She looked down at the sleeping forms of her parents. A soft snore resonated from her father’s deep sleep. When she left home, he just had started to grey at the temples. The color spread in the past few months, and Stephne noticed deeper wrinkles across his forehead. She leaned over him and stroked her index finger along the bumpy lines. His body relaxed and a smile spread across his face. She missed him. Her mother said he would remain behind when their plan fell into place. Stephne had other ideas. But work still needed to be done before she faced that argument. Her eyes closed again as she willed her consciousness to return to her body.

Stephne stretched under the covers, her body slithering like a snake as she finished releasing the vision of her father. Her thoughts roamed to the girls in her classes. She grew tired of manipulating them to do her bidding, though she loved when they made Sarah miserable. Now she would add Corrion to the list of torture. She grinned at the thought of chipping away at the instructors. New challenges excited her. Her mother taught her that most healers were not susceptible to mind control; however, Stephne found most of the older healers weak. She suspected they didn't use their healing power enough which left them vulnerable. The girls with power in her class were another story. They reminded her of Corrion's abundance of power. In whiplash speed, her head came up to attack. Corrion. The stupid farm girl succeeded in breaching the castle walls. Stephne cursed under her breath.

During the trial, Stephne tried to influence the outcome, like she reported to her mother, but with a touch of Marketta's hand to the Princess' arm, Stephne's suggestions were pushed to the side. They left her out of the trial. Now she thought about how to make Corrion wish she hadn't been let into the school, something to make her run for home.

Stephne admired Corrion's determination, though grudgingly. She traveled alone to get to the castle. Once here, Corrion endured the kitchens and the dogs. Stephne would never resort to manual work to accomplish her dreams. Manipulation was so much cleaner.

Reaching across the bed, she grabbed the bell off the night stand. With a couple of violent shakes, she grimaced at the clamor. The Princess had a cord system in her suite of rooms. Stephne suspected Gudrun did as well. The maid told her the Chosen One’s suites also had them. If her plan didn’t fall into place soon, she would look into ordering the same for her rooms. Of course, she wanted the title more. Chosen One, Stephne. She loved the sound of the honorary. Her mother would have her rooms as soon as she took over. Her impatience mounted.

What took you so long? Stephne threw the bell at the maid who nimbly ducked.

After changing into a freshly laundered viridian dress with matching ribbons, Stephne left her suite of rooms. The blue-green pigment of the dress combined the symbolic colors of the Ice Princess, blue and the Green Lady, green. She shivered at the thought of having the political power of both women. The clicking of her high heeled leather boots echoed as she walked through the ornate section of the palace with her shoulders straight and her head held high. The soldier standing sentry at the massive double doors scurried to the small side door to let her out into the cold. With a raised eyebrow, she tapped her foot as she stood in front of the royal doors. He hesitated only a moment before running to the big door.

Sorry, Miss Stephne, I forget your desire to exit in style. In his unease, he almost fell over as he bowed.

She tilted her head to the side watching for any signs of sarcasm. A handful of soldiers disliked her, but he seemed to be sincere. Making him hold the bow, a drop of perspiration fell from his brow to the floor. Don't make that mistake again. And it is Mistress Stephne.

Torches beckoned the way to the wall where an older soldier watched the gate. He lit a lantern for her to see by and lowered his head as he unlatched the lock. Without a word or backward glance, she swooped past him to make her way down the path to the dormitories. She regretted not making a connection with the instructors when she first arrived at the castle. If she had an item of theirs, she could have visited them in her mind while in the comforts of her warm bed. Instead she had to trek through the snow at this blasphemous hour to work her power. Her mood grew more vicious as she slipped on the icy path. Her arms flung out to steady herself. She looked around to make sure no one saw her near fall. Stupid Corrion should have just stayed home. The girl infuriated Stephne with her stubbornness.

The cold, seeping into her body, grew stronger as she rubbed her mitted hand against her arm. The lantern wobbled. Rays of light danced ahead of her. She should have demanded a soldier take her to the dorms. The bother of manipulating them to go against protocol though seemed a waste of her energy. She would need most of her power to turn the instructors. The day would grow long sitting in class after her hard work this morning. She cursed Corrion under her breath again.

Once inside the dorm, she climbed the stairs. A grin spread across her face. The boring whitewashed walls had never been her home. When traveling as newly Chosen, she stuck to the Princess like sap to the fingers. She worked the Princess over with her power. Those days on the road, Princess Icylica's health plummeted, so Stephne assisted her. Stephne organized all the young Chosen to work hard for the Princess to bring her hot water for a daily bath and giving her massages so the Princess could take their power of healing onto herself. By the time they reached the palace, Stephne convinced Princess Icylica to take her as her companion. The trunks of clothes her father sent ahead of the group were unloaded in the apartment next to Icylica's. It wasn't the Chosen One's apartment, but it was the next best one.

At the end of the hall of the dormitory, she quietly turned the wooden doorknob. She let herself into the little sitting room. A fire burned cheerfully with three soft cushioned chairs sitting around the hearth for entertaining guest. Rosemary filled the air. To the side of the hearth in the corner, a triangular desk sat waiting for lesson plans and the like for the plant classes. On the walls, drawings of plants hung on the wall. Stephne scrunched her nose at the boring décor. Nothing personal lay in the room. She needed to go into the bedroom.

Cringing at the creaking of the door as she opened it, she peeked into the room. The instructor, who didn't look much older than herself, lay in the bed covered up with a couple of thick quilts. Stephne saw her breath as she exhaled. No fire burned in this room. Mistress Vilgunn must like to sleep in the cold Stephne thought. Her soft tread kept her heals from clicking on the wooden floor as she walked on her tiptoes. On the dressing table, she picked up Vilgunn's brush. Pulling the blond strands of hair from the bristles, she smiled. From the pocket of her thick winter coat, she retrieved a piece of string and tied the hair in a clump. A red glow intertwined with the string and hair.

She kept the bundle in her hand as she crept to the bed. Her fingers touched Vilgunn's forehead. Red light engulfed Stephne and the other woman. The instructor dreamed. A blue mist surrounded Vilgunn, but Stephne pushed past the thin barrier, ignoring the context of the dream. Whispering into her ear, she gave Vilgunn the directive to loath Corrion, to find fault in all she said, to ignore her, pick apart her answers, and to criticize her. Stephne cut the connection as Vilgunn's images in the dream turned into a classroom with her glaring at Corrion. Leaving the room, Stephne felt relieved. Turning Vilgunn took little energy. If Mistress Dyrhild was as easy, she would have a good day. She almost whistled as she climbed the stairs to the third floor.

The top floor corridor looked as plain as the second floor. One of the doors to a Chosen room stood ajar at the beginning of the hall. The maid must still be starting the fires. She hoped they had started with the instructor's room first. With confidence and a smile, Stephne didn't worry about being caught. Maids were the easiest to manipulate. She didn't even need to use her power, especially if it were Agna. The young maid really believed she would make it to the castle. All Stephne had to do was pretend she wanted her to come be her servant. Stephne rolled her eyes as she pushed open the door to Dyrhild's parlor. The fire crackled and lit the room with cheer.

The room fascinated Stephne. Instead of stark and sterile like Vilgunn's room, Dryhild's felt old-fashioned and homey. The three cushioned chairs were made of a thick midnight blue weave. On the backrest, a white Dala horse with a sky blue saddle and harness decorated the chair. Next to the desk, a large chest stood. A matching white horse with blue tack decorated the front and lid. On the walls, framed art work of white backgrounds and blue animals graced the room.

Stephne sneered at the lack of taste. At the age of seven, a traveling peddler visited their village from the southern mountains. Her father almost bought some of this type of art for their store. Smiling, Stephne remembered her mother putting a halt to the transaction. The peddler left insulted by her mother's comment of how tacky his wares. They laughed later at how the merchandise was probably crafted by his wife or mother.

Crossing the room, she opened the bedroom door. She rolled her eyes. Dyrhild lay underneath a coverlet busier designs and color then her parlor. At the top, a mountain scene with bright blues and greens set in the background with flowers and birds in the foreground. Next a bright red farmhouse with flowers and birds circled it. Further down the blanket was a scene of a reindeer herder and all his flock amidst a variety of plant life. The entire blanket was edged with brightly colored flowers, birds, and geometric designs. Stephne could not imagine ever being bored enough to put that much detail into a blanket.

Dyrhild's nightstand stood next to the door. An object caught Stephne's eye. Only standing two inches high, a white Dala horse statue, made from the same rock used to construct the castle, stood next to the hairbrush. The blue color of Princess Icylica's pennant formed the saddle, harness, and bridle. Stephne reached for the object, but a blue flame snapped at her like a dog protecting its food. From her fingertips, a red pulse of light probed the flame. The blue glow winked out. With a little hesitation, she took it up in her hand. Stephne felt the healing power throbbing. She cut through with her own strength.

The room disappeared to reform into a deep wooded area. Stephne looked around and saw a women with her back turned, struggling through snow deep enough to reach her hips. The power of healing pulsed on the air. Fear consumed Stephne. Dyrhild held more power than Stephne thought. She never entered a dream of a strong healer. A person in the dream state was far too unpredictable. If their power rivaled hers, she could be in danger of being defeated.

Closing her eyes, she willed herself to leave the dream and enter her body. Opening them again, she hadn't moved. The red orb that surrounded Stephne lightened in color. Looking around her, Stephne tried to move to a tree to hide behind. As her leg pushed against the snow, a whinny echoed behind her. She turned to see a white horse behind her, warning the woman. Teetering on her feet, as she straightened back around, Stephne looked into the eyes of Dyrhild.

What are you doing in my woods? the instructor asked. The snow melted around her feet and towards Stephne, allowing Dyrhild to glide towards her.

Stephne composed herself, standing taller to give the allusion of confidence. I came to talk with you about Corrion.

In my dreams? I thought the stories of dream walkers was just a way to scare little children. You really do exist. Dyrhild sent a ribbon of blue light to wrap around Stephne. In a panic, the young girl struggled to get free, but Dyrhild just laughed. Don't fight the healing. I am replenishing some of your strength. You look drained. It won't hurt you.

Dyrhild held a significant amount of power which Stephne hadn't suspected. Usually she felt the power from a strong healer. Dyrhild must believe Corrion wasn't evil, so simply trying to get her to believe that rumor floating around the palace with Princess Icylica's endorsement wasn't going to work. Stephne needed to precede with care.

There, Dyrhild said as the blue faded away. So, are you here to convince me that Corrion has a terrible power? I suspect her power is like that of mine, not so terrible.

She wields it to manipulate the pathetic older women who live in the past. Corrion wants to gain the throne by destroying the Princess. The healing worked. The energy Stephne used with her mother and Vilgunn returned to her. Stephne concentrated on the snow like she would if she were in her mother's dream. A sigh almost escaped her lips as it melted around her. Stepping to the side, she maneuvered herself so she wasn't between Dyrhild and the horse. Something felt wrong about this dream state.

And aren't you manipulating by coming to my dream? Dyrhild whistled. The horse jumped towards its master. Instantly the blue light pulsed between the two of them.

Stephne reacted instantly by throwing both her hands out towards the rope like light. A thread of red light leaped from each of her fingers coiling together to form a thick cable that flew at the blue rope. The cable frayed as it touched the blue. Stephne staggered backwards, but felt a weakness in the link between horse and master. Not allowing her threads of light to combine, she sharpened the ends into needles. All ten needles forced their way into the healing power of Dyrhild. The red thread divided into two. Half tunneled through the blue rope towards Dyrhild and the other half towards the horse. The horse reared back on its hind legs while its front legs tried to severe the link, but failed.

Sweat poured from Stephne. She cringed as it tricked down her back. As the red reached Dyrhild, the link between horse and master snapped. The taste of blood filled Stephne's mouth as she bit the inside of her cheek. Burning fumes drifted through the air. Stephne almost lost control as Dyrhild shrieked in frustration, fighting with all her might. The women watched, one in fascination and the other in horror, as the tack on the horse turned from blue to blood red. Dyrhild fell to the forest floor in a heap. Her blue dress now turned into a ragged old nightgown. The blue pulsing connection winked out. Stephne now had control. Mistress Dyrhild's power wasn't as strong as she suspected. Somehow her power came from the folksy horse, possibly like Princess Icylica's talisman.

When you wake up, you will remember this dream as if Corrion did all this damage. She is the dreaded dream walker. Do you understand? The power Stephen felt as she stood over the instructor caused a giggle to ripple from her smiling lips.

Mistress Dyrhild looked up at Stephne. Her eyes grew wide with fear. The rumors are true. Evil has come among us.

Stephne closed her eyes and willed herself back into her body. The items on the stand rattled as she fell against the furniture. The quality of craftsmanship held her up while she gained an upright stance on her wobbly legs. Whatever healing Dyrhild gave Stephne drained from her during the battle they fought, plus more. She opened her hand that held the horse. Somehow the horse gave Dyrhild power. Jealousy turned Stephne's stomach. She wanted an object to give her more power. The colors remained white and blue though they changed in the dream. With a small amount of power, she pushed her red light at the horse. It didn't enter the figurine. Only healing power must work on the object. Sending a tendril of red to Dyrhild, she easily entered the instructor's thoughts. The horse was a perfect vehicle to use in manipulating Dyrhild. She placed the item in her pocket and took a cautious step toward the door. Her legs held her.

Outside the apartment, Stephne used the wall to keep herself walking steadily forward. The railing on the stairs kept her from pitching down the two levels. Once outside she cursed Corrion under her breath. The walk back to the castle was going to be brutal. Leaning over, she cupped a mound of snow in her hand and rubbed it against both her cheeks. A shiver traveled from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. She stood a little straighter and headed back to the castle. The sun peaked out from behind the mountains. Pushing her feet to go faster, she had just enough time to change into a clean dress and maybe grab a biscuit for breakfast.

Her boot hit a patch of ice, her legs and arms flew out as she fell into a snow drift. Ice and snow! Corrion, I will make you pay for this.

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The scent of ginger and apple tickled Corrion's nose as she walked into the living area of Gudrun's apartment. Surveying the room, she saw no food, but noticed a teapot on the embers of the fire. She anticipated actually drinking tea if the taste resembled the smell. In all her tea drinking, Corrion never tasted any tea other than the bitter dull brew of regular brown dried leaves.

Good Morning, the tea smells delicious. Corrion stumbled over the greeting. She wasn't sure what to call the woman sorting through piles of books and parchments on the table.

The older woman's title, The Green Lady, suited her for she wore a forest green dress with black lace accenting the high neckline. Corrion enjoyed seeing the different shades of green. Growing up on the farm, her and her mother only wore black and gray. When Corrion met Gudrun for the first time three springs prior, people referred to the woman as The Green Lady. However, during the trial the day before, the adults all called her, Gudrun. After the sentencing of Corrion being placed under house arrest with Gudrun as her warden, they failed to discuss protocol.

Oh, that isn't tea. The Green Lady lifted a stack of five large volumes and placed them on a bench leaning against a wall. I boil moldy apples and a little spice to perk up the air during the long winter months.

Corrion frowned in disappointment as her stomach growled. For a few moments, she stood waiting for direction while Gudrun continued sorting. The older woman kept at her work not noticing Corrion's patience deteriorating. After a couple of heavy sighs, Corrion spoke.

I am not sure what to call you. I know your name is Gudrun, but that seems a bit informal. When she continued to be ignored, Corrion stomped her foot in frustration. Maybe I should call you warden or Mistress Jailer?

Gudrun leaned against the table, closing her bluish gray eyes for a moment. The other students address us by our given names with Mistress as the honorary. You may call me, Mistress Gudrun.

Do you need a little help? Corrion offered.

The older woman glanced at Corrion and forced her lips upward in a smile like grimace. No. I need the work to be organized. With you here, I also need a big enough area cleared that if you spill a drink or food, it won't ruin the manuscripts. Please, just sit and read one of the books I gave you until breakfast arrives. Can you do that?

"Well, yes, I can. But first I have a question. Last night I read about the Daoine Rain but became confused, what does