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forehead as she read the threat to hold back Nalini’s final tuition payment unless Nalini re-Tested as a builder.
    “But your parents can’t fight your final Testing!”
    “Wrong. I’m ‘a disgrace to the family line’—the first Ferlen in seven generations who’s not a builder.”
    They heard a quick knock before the door was flung open. An Adept swept into the room, two students carrying a trunk behind her.
    “Nalini, everything you wish to take with you to the capital must fit into this trunk.” The students set it down with a thunk on the floor. “Anything you need during the ride goes in these saddlebags, but leave room for your daily ration of food. Bring a warm cloak and wear sturdy clothes. The weather could turn at any time. Be ready at dawn tomorrow.”
    The Adept turned and scowled at Saroya. “You, Saroya, will report to the doyenne’s chambers at first light. She was none too pleased with the spectacle you made of yourself in front of our guests.” With that, the woman left them as suddenly as she had come.
    Saroya exchanged a glum look with her friend, before walking over to the trunk and fingering the latch. The brass hasp felt cold to her touch. She lifted the lid and peered inside. A faint whiff of lavender reached her nostrils. The trunk was lined, with trays at the top for smaller items. It had been used before, its corners scuffed and some of the inner fabric torn. Still, she had never seen anything she wanted more. Suddenly Saroya laughed.
    “It’s not as if seeing Doyenne Ganarra tomorrow could make me feel any worse,” Saroya said. “Do you think she’ll give me more laundry chores? Maybe she’ll make me clean the chicken coop. Or do a kitchen inventory.”
    Nalini grinned. “If you don’t watch out, she could put you in charge of minding Mistress Jarra.” Saroya howled, thinking about having to endure Jarra’s endless complaints about her aches and pains, and her constant opining about the deteriorating quality of the current crop of youths.
    Saroya and Nalini were still giggling when they finally turned in. Nalini blew out the candle. Saroya tried to sleep but tossed and turned instead. The unfairness of tomorrow—losing both Nalini and her chance at the city, plus facing the doyenne’s punishment—kept her awake. Saroya stared at the dim ceiling without really seeing it. Unfair. She couldn’t shake the thought. It was all so unfair.
    But did it have to be? Could she still salvage something from this mess? If she didn’t do something, no one else would on her behalf.
    Veshwa was the key to finding her family. Veshwa might even be her own mother. If she was a servant of Veyle, it seemed logical that Saroya would find her in the capital. She had to go with the others to U’Veyle.
    Saroya threw back her blanket, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, moving quietly so as not to wake Nalini. She padded barefoot across the floor, then thought better of it. Best to put her best foot forward. She returned to the bed, and fumbled beneath it, looking for her sandals. She grabbed the shoes, and worked her way back to the door.
    “Where are you going?” Nalini asked, voice muzzy with sleep.
    “Best you don’t know.”
    “That doesn’t bode well.” Nalini sounded wide awake now.
    Saroya slipped on her sandals, since stealth no longer gained her anything. “The doyenne’s mad at me already, right? I might as well do something to really embarrass her in front of her guests.”
    “Saroya!” But Saroya had already started down the hall. She heard the rustling of sheets, then the slap of feet coming after her. Nalini tugged at her hand, but kept her voice low to avoid waking the others. “Tell me what you’re doing.”
    “I’m going to talk to that man.”
    “The king’s guardsman?” Nalini’s voice pitched up two octaves. “What for?”
    “You don’t have to come with me.” Saroya paused. “On second thought, it might be helpful if you did, but I won’t