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to find her teacher looking at her, nodding and shaking her head at the same time. Or she’d say, “Yes,” and her father would say, “Yes what?” And she would say, “Yes, I can plow the fields with you after dinner.” Then he and her mother would exchange “that look.” That look that said… she’s doing it again.
    Irago smiled and nodded, as if listening to her very thoughts; as if she was speaking them right out loud. “It’s a rare few that can actually see, ‘Mage City,’ as you called it. And, after they do, they usually end up living here.”

5

    Kayne stood in Kronos’ chambers as the dark mage paced in footsteps angry and full of rage. 
    “But you don’t know the Council will choose Iragos,” Kayne offered humbly, head bowed and hands clasped in supplication as he feared his master’s vengeance.
    His white tunic was stiff around his throat and even more so when he bowed. He ignored the tugging sensation, ever intent on serving his Master’s every need.
    “You fool,” Kronos rasped, voice hoarse from shouting all afternoon. “That’s all anyone in Ythulia can talk about. But you wouldn’t know that, would you squire ?”
    In his years of faithful service, Kronos had never once called Kayne by his proper name. “No, master,” Kayne muttered dutifully between clenched teeth.
    As Kronos paced, Kayne risked offense by asking, “But… Jaroch was a light mage, right Master? Why would the Council replace light with dark? Wouldn’t it offset the balance?”
    “Of course it would,” Kronos raged. “That’s the point. I’ve been campaigning for eons to prove to the Council that I can be just as light as Iragos, to no avail apparently.”
    Kayne nodded, eyes on the ground as he’d been taught on day one of squire training. Kronos raged, his maroon robe dragging on the ground, the red tip of his crystal staff tapping the floor in cadence.
    Then he stopped, and looked abruptly at Kayne. Kayne could only see the mage’s shoes facing him, but dare not look up until given permission.
    “Face me, squire!”
    Kayne did and saw Kronos wearing something quite unusual indeed; a smile! “M-m-master?” he stammered.
    “I want you to run an errand for me, squire.” Kronos’ voice was almost… mirthful… something that made Kayne immediately suspicious.
    “Y-y-yes, Master.”
    “It’s a small thing, won’t take but a moment.”
    “Indeed.” 
    “Run and fetch me the Ythra, will you boy?”
    Then Kronos cackled, dark and deep. Kayne stared back at his wrinkled face, leathery and unkind. His eyes were dark as coal, his goatee only slightly darker with its faint, oily sheen.
    “I… I don’t understand.” Kayne didn’t. Unlike some of the mages, Kronos wasn’t one to joke. But… the Ythra? The most magical, mystical item in all of Mage City? 
    Clearly, he had to be joking.
    “The guards are mostly in mourning for dear Jaroch,” Kronos explained, inching closer. “While on our way back from the Choosing, I spied only six of them standing at the entrance to the Chamber of Ythra.”
    “That’s six too many, master!” Kayne croaked, knees trembling at the thought. “The Ythra guards are trained killers, chosen with the express purpose of protecting the Orb of Ythra, each one a fierce fighter from the land of Churl.”
    Kronos waved a hand, tipped by long, yellow nails, unconcerned. “Take this,” he said, sliding a small vial from the golden cuff of his flowing maroon robe. 
    Kayne did as he was told. Even if it was wrong, he was bound by duty to honor his master’s wishes. “W-w-what is it, Master?” The vial was a small crystal, hollow and filled with a floating red gas that looked like smoke, captured in its essence.
    “It’s a Belief Spell,” Kronos explained. “Release it once the first guard questions your presence and they will believe whatever you tell them—”
    “But the Guards of Ythra are spell proof!” 
    Kronos slapped Kayne hard across the face, dropping