It was hard to be inside so much, but it was even less fun most of the time to go out and explore.

There were a few other times, when I went to take Fafi to the gardens with mother or followed Simila into the hallway when she had gone out to get fresh linens or something from the kitchens.

Every other time, however, it seemed there was a mocking smile or some lady who wanted to jeer at mother in their prude underhanded ways.

Even Simila sometimes looked at my mother and me with disdain. Or maybe it was pity, but it was hurtful to me either way.

It was one day, as the air from the opened window was getting cooler and the sun had set even before dinner even happened that I heard the name 'Bairv' again from the door to my parents' room.

Father seems to have had a guest, a man by the sound of his voice, who was in their chambers.

Simila had left the room, so I brought over the toy castle tower. By stepping on it with one foot, I was able to comfortably turn the key in the lock and then pull on the handle and slip into the next room.

My parents' chambers were quite large. There was a bedroom, a drawing room, a study and even a servant's room behind the bedroom.

My room was beside my parents' bedroom so I wasn't seen as I walked across it through the dark and put my ear to the door.

"... behind it."

Father had just said something as I was getting in position.

"It wasn't me, if that is what you suspect," the man said, "that boy was always too keen to poke his nose into matters he had no business meddling with. My sister, I'm afraid had too much of an influence on him."

"That is... I wasn't aware you had a sister."

"We don't speak of it often, she was a mesmer. A bit like you now that I think about it, too rebellious to listen to her father when it came to marriage and too talented to live peacefully. I just wish she was talented in the quill rather than the arts."

"Do you know if she or any of her associates were connected with shamans?"

"Shamans?" The old man snorted, "If you mean the shamans from Klistoss or Barrad-dur, then it's possible she might have written to some, but she would not have consorted with the sort that we have around here."

"And what about him?"

"Don't you think you're a bit too pigheaded on this?" The other man paused, perhaps taking a sip of something. "I did tell Dastan I would do this, but that favour only reaches so far."

The old man paused, but then he spoke again "I can't speak for that ingrate, but if you're concerned about shamans, perhaps you should look closer to home."

"What do you mean?"

"Surely you know that twink has had his eyes on Olwick for years. His cousin was a shaman. Upstart peasants. You know, the one in Ibbergreen." I wasn't following much of the conversation, but I picked up on Ibbergreen.

"Oh, not at all, please do." the man said. I hadn't heard who had spoken in between.

"Ah-!" Mother suppressed an exclamation as she opened the door.

"Is everything alright?" The man asked.

"Yes, my apologies," mother said, while shooing me away from the door. "My foot just caught on the carpet."

"I do thank you for that. Do you know anything about the poison they say the Leslie heir..." my father was changing the subject, but mother closed the door behind her.

"Tilly, what do you think you are doing here?" She said angrily in a semi-whisper. "Where did Simila go?"

"Sorry," I said and I felt my ears burn a bit.

"Back in your room, now," mother just pointed her index finger over me towards the still open door to my room. "I do not want to catch you eavesdropping ever again, do you hear me?"

I felt a heat beneath my eyes that I knew were tears about to come out. Mother had never scolded me before. I had never done anything to make her mad.

I ran back to my room, but stepped on the tower lying on the floor as I tried to close the door.

The turret crenelations dug into my foot and I winced as I felt forward, slamming the door as my head knocked into it.

I put my hands against my forehead which was now stinging and closed my eyes to hold back the tears, but they still leaked down down my cheeks. I think I might have cut my foot.

"Tilly," mother said from across the door. She sounded even angrier.

I didn't mean to...

The door opened and mother glared at me then saw I was crying on the floor.

"Stop crying on the floor and go to your bed right now." She hissed.

I clenched my fist to withstand the hurting and stood up. My foot didn't seem to be cut after all, just in pain from stepping on the tower the wrong way.

I limped back to my bed and tried not to make any noise as my chest hiccuped in sobs.

"Tilly..." Mother said, and she sounded frustrated instead of angry, "Why are you doing this Tilly?"

She came up behind me and picked me up with an arm around my stomach.

"What did you do to yourself?" She had the tower in her other hand. "Did you use this to open the door?"

She put me down on the bed and then walked over the chest of toys where she put the tower back inside.

"Sorry," I said again. Why did I have to go and spy on father and his guest?

"Just don't do that again." Mother said and she came around and kissed me on the forehead. "You're too smart for your own good."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I thought a lot about what father's visitor said over the next few days.

I knew somehow that they were talking about me and the fief.

I still didn't know who it was and when I asked mother, she told me it was none of my business and that I hadn't learned my lesson, for which she said I wouldn't be going outside to see Fafi that day.

I didn't ask again...

The man had talked about his sister, a mesmer and some boy, but I didn't think he meant Pricel and I didn't really know any other boys. Mesmers were the mages though, and he evidently knew something about mages, since he knew the shamans were shams too.

I did at least know that the man from Ibbergreen was that pretentious lord of the tower with all his great-great-grandfathers. I didn't like him much and now I liked him even less. I didn't think he was capable enough to cast a proper spell, let alone whatever it was the shaman had that killed Aian.

That didn't mean, however, that he couldn't have hired someone. I just hoped he wouldn't be able to do anything to Ivian and Olwick while we were here in grandfather's house.

If it was him and he really did think he could take Olwick, then we had to do something.

I felt so helpless here, but I don't know that I would have been able to do anything even if I was in Olwick. I needed to quickly get stronger. Find the magic of Sam Ivers to defend us from father's enemies.

So I continued to condense more mana and to sketch the icons and formulas I could remember.

Mother also gave me new things to study, telling me fewer stories and fairy tales as before. Instead, she would show me drawings of icons in a heavy book.

She told me about the names and crests of the noble families, pictures of their crests, a few of them familiar, like the teal flower of Pricel's family and the tree that was on some of the carriages at the manor and that my father sometimes wore.

I learned of the various ranks of nobles, the sijon under the king and the conds and viscounts who oversaw the lords of the sijonies. They were very much like the dukes, counts and viscounts of Lucia in Sam's world.

Confusingly enough, there were six sijons, or dukes, but really only four. That's what mother told me near the beginning. The dukes, in Farand, were powerful, often acting like kings in their own ducal lands. They ruled over the 4 dukedoms of Farand: Bretos, Efeles, Hartun and Leslie.

I rather enjoyed the maps mother brought me. There were cities and rivers, and the sea not all that far from the capital itself. It was much more interesting than the tops and dolls.

The capital was in the middle of Bretos, which was in the middle and north of the kingdom. Efeles and Leslie were much larger, one covering the East and the other curling around Bretos to the South and West. Hartun was just a small circle to the West, not even half the size of Bretos.

Then there were lineages and histories and households and heirs.

Leave it to say that my mother had no difficulty putting me to sleep at night.

But one story stood out from the rest. The story of King Iben Mershunt, the founder of Farand and his son, later King Wikhem Mershunt, the Elafoz.

Almost 3 centuries ago, Wikhem had made north to expand the family's fortunes by seeking trade with the elves. He rode against his own race with the northern elves and was granted the title of the Elafoz, the elk, and a steed from his northern friends. It was with this opportunity, that his father rode north, and made a trade route into a kingdom, forcing the horsemen and knights to bend the knee.

Even today, the crown prince, Grairin bears the title Elafoz. He is also one of the 2 other dukes, honorarily in charge of the small Duke of Ginishilla where the last grove in Farand still grows.

Every decade the elves make their way to the capital, meeting the Elafoz and bringing trade.

They are white of hair, had sharp tipped ears and bright coloured eyes. A detail that mother mentioned off hand but that stood out to me.

It was a hint. A clue to my past and that odd night on the way to the capital.

One of many, that mother and my dreams give me over the winter.

It wasn't long after the visitor that the snows started. And with the winter and cold, it seemed my nightmares just got worse.

Each morning when I woke up, I ran to the windows to open the blinds and reassure myself with the blue or grey sky. Sometimes the black spire and the crimson clouds looked too real and the whirling black stuff around the tower only grew thicker and faster. No longer looking like specks of dust or microscopic birds flying lazily around.

It probably didn't help that I didn't go outside during the winter months.

Mother described the capital, so near and yet so far. The two sets of walls and all the districts inside. She described the markets and manors near West Gate, the merchants and artisans of lower town and the grove and hunting grounds of the king to the north.

To be honest, hearing of these places so nearby, I wanted to be out and about, to see and smell. It seemed a cruel and unusual punishment to keep me inside, sullen Simila in tow.

At the same time, I still felt afraid. Father was busy these months, looking for our enemy and meeting old friends and foes.

It felt so strange to be near the one who put a reward on my death. I sometimes wondered of Simila was a spy, or if the mocking voices who spoke to mother outside had also cackled as they set a price to my blood.