Can you hear me?

Aelia tried first to push her way through the bustling crowd, to get a better view of the church, but when that failed she resorted to darting and slithering around the people — a task she was much better suited to. Shouts of “Oi!” and “You best watch it, lass!” rippled after her as an angry wake, but she paid the threats little heed. There was too much to be excited about to mind words, of all things.

Gods! Even the air here was intoxicating. The smell of hardworking towns-folk; of sweat and ale and blood; of animals — some alive, some roasting; of clothes unchanged and unwashed. And it should have been a repugnant stink by all rights, but it somehow mixed together to sizzle the air like the electricity before a storm.

Aelia's boots were thin-soled hand-me-downs that had belonged to her sister (younger sister, but embarrassingly already taller) and the hard bubbles of cobblestone beneath pushed deep into her feet. On her back, a burlap sack bounced merrily up and down, as excited as Aelia.

She wriggled to the very front of the crowd and settled herself between a well-bearded man sloshing back a tankard of beer, and a younger man whose hand seemed addicted to twining his greasy blond hair into thick strands. The younger man gave her a not-unfriendly smile.

She replied with a curt nod, a "Hey," and an unspoken please don't talk to me in her eyes.

Aelia began to settle into her spot and her heartbeat eased. She allowed herself a deep breath and closed her eyes. It’s like being in one of mother’s books. Except here I can feel the thrill in the air, instead of imagining it. Here it's real.

A pang of unwanted guilt began to form and rise in Aelia’s stomach. Typical. Couldn't let herself be happy for five minutes. She tried to swallow it back down before it could fully form and give her the reasons for its being. But the pang ballooned instead, stretching wide until it popped.

Ah. There it was.

She’d promised Mother that she’d go straight to her lodgings and meet her new family. That she’d store her possessions and at least some of her money in her new room. Her mother had suggested she hide some coins beneath a floorboard.

And yet here she was. Straight from the caravan to the Church of the Transformation. Waiting to see what this week's blessing might be.

Sorry Mom.

Aelia couldn’t care less for the few bits and bobs she carried in her bag -- who cared if she lost some old clothes and a book? But she did have coin in her purse and she couldn't allow for that to be stolen. Money from her mother, mainly (that her mother could ill afford and that Aelia had twice refused, but that had been snuck into her purse regardless).

But it’s Sunday! she complained to the guilt that had moved from her stomach and travelled her veins and now nervoused her whole body.

The caravan she'd travelled with had experienced good fortune with the weather and had arrived in Rhodes almost a full day early — just in time for the Transformation. And what could that kind of luck be, other than serendipity? Aelia had been in the town maybe three hours now, two of which she’d spent lost in various winding side-streets on the outskirts, each of which seemed to have its own cobblers, tobacconist, and tavern. Eventually, after asking for directions at least half a dozen times and failing to follow any of them properly (she blamed excitement for her current poor memory), the hulking Church of the Transformation in the center of Rhodes — the great walled capital of the kingdom — had risen into view.

Now, up close, she wondered how it had ever not been in view. It was mountainous! Complete with its own silver-covered peaks and crevices — spires and sanctums that held everything from relics to graves — that thrust into the clouds themselves. It was, like any good mountain, easily big enough to get lost in.

The crowd wasn’t allowed onto the sacred green space where the church sat, or even on the street that circled the greenery like a dirty moat. So instead they thronged the edge of the street like a one-sided riverbank.

Aelia was close enough to see the huge arched doors at the church's front with their gilded floral etchings around their edges. This had been the blessed week of Flora. Of feasting and farming and relative, unusual calm for the Kingdom of The Stone God.

What would this week's transformation usher in? she wondered, heart racing again at the mere thought.

It was a little cold standing still, even nestled as she was between the men. Summer was ending. The sun was sloped in the sky (but it was almost midday, she noticed) as if one of the gods had reached up and thumped it.

She wondered if the Stone God was in the church right now, slumbering. Sometimes He was inside, she’d heard. But it was rare to see Him, even for those that lived in Rhodes. It had been months since His last gracing and it might be months or longer before His next. But still, here she was, in the hub of the kingdom, its greatest city, and there was at least the possibility of seeing Him. There was the possibility of anything here.

Her mother and father had seen the Stone God before they’d gotten married and started the farm and she'd heard the story of it a thousand times before. Nagged for it at bedtimes, when she'd been younger, and hidden it in her heart as she'd gotten older. A little keepsake to take out when times got bleak, to remind her of childhood awe. Her father had once told her that the most powerful magic was made by small moments that lived forever in the mind. His story about the Stone God was, then, magical.

That was back before her father had been recruited for the war against the Necromancer. Six years ago, now. Six. How fast and cruel time's clock turned.

She let out a sigh, but she couldn’t hear the breath leave her lips. Not because of the crowd, but because of a different noise. A clip clop clip clank. Clip clop clip clank.

Aelia leaned forward and saw what she first thought must be a knight (perhaps even a paladin!) riding a black-haired horse down the street. Horses apparently didn't like cobblestone either, as the street was flat, brown, and dusty.

As he neared, she noted the man's armor was just a tunic of chainmail with a red cross sloshed over its chest. No helmet, and cheap brown pants.

A city guard.

Not as exciting as she’d first thought, but still, those folk were the heartbeat of the city. Or at least they kept the heartbeat in rhythm. The heart itself, of course, was the church.

So it was still pretty exciting, she contented herself. And the real show hadn't even started yet.

Clip clop clip clank.

The odd sound came from the unusual horse beneath the rider. Three legs looked as she’d have expected, but the fourth drew a gasp from her lips. It was sculpted metal, with pinned joints at the hip and knee and hoof -- the hip joint having a number of small cogs next to it, that spun as the beast walked. The metal leg was obsidian-black, even darker than the horse, except for the hoof at its end that was a grey metal.

As it drew nearer she could hear a hiss accompanying the clank, and saw a puff of steam billowing out from beneath the metal hoof whenever it raised. How it was powered, she wasn’t sure. She knew of course that the blacksmiths here were masters of hydraulics, but the town also had plenty of other fine craftsmens, as well as a mage guild (the reason, she told her mother, that she coming here) that could perhaps imbue metal.

She undecided whether the strange leg made the horse less beautiful or more. It certainly made it unique.

It was a half-peeled orange that rolled across the horse’s path, and it came from the sweaty, slippery palm of a little girl with braided hair. A girl in a ragged dress that looked a lot like the sack on Aelia’s back.

She watched bemused as the girl fell out of the crowd like an errant hair come loose, and attempted to reclaim her orange. But the uneven ground tripped her little feet and she fell sprawling next to the fruit.

The rider, if he noticed, didn’t slow.

Clip clop clip clank.

Surely someone would do... something.

Clip clop clip clank.

Aelia shouted, “Wait!”

The guard still didn’t slow and the girl lay as if paralyzed, her eyes on the huge legs striding towards her, crushing the ground, billowing dust behind them.

Aelia jumped out of the crowd and in front of the horse, meaning only to grab the little girl and pull her to safety -- which she managed. But she had also scared the horse which bucked wildly and its rider swore wildly as he tried to hold onto the reins.

She carried the girl back into the crowd who parted a little for them.

“Are you okay?”

The girl’s eyes were damp. She was too scared to talk and just looked at Aelia with saucer eyes.

“You little bitch,” came a deep voice. A very angry voice. “You almost threw me off my steed. I could have been badly hurt.”

Aelia turned to find the guard, still on his horse, spittle now covering his chin, facing and looking down at her.

"You seem fine," she answered. "And the girl is fine, I think. So everything is... fine." She gave him a wide smile and hoped that would be that.

"Fine? You almost threw me off my steed!" he repeated, louder. “What do you intend to do about it?”

Great, just the start she needed. She’d pissed off a city guard within three hours of arriving. She’d only come to the church to witness the transformation.

“You were about to trample her,” Aelia said, trying to keep the tremble her arms were experiencing out of her voice. A tremble more from adrenaline than anything else, she suspected.

The guard frowned then grinned. “The little brat shouldn't have been on the street, should she? She broke the law and she is lucky I'm the guard that happened to see her.”

Lucky? He'd almost killed her... To claim she was lucky was beyond the pale. Aelia glared up at him, then walked briskly, defiantly, back into the street and grabbed the orange, before holding it up to the guard. “See this? She dropped her food. That's all. Perhaps you should apologize to her.”

The guard was stunned, but only for a second, for then he began to laugh, rocking back and forth on the horse.

Aelia ignored him and walked up to the girl, passing her the orange and stroking her hair. "Here you go, darling."

The little girl looked at the orange, then Aelia. "Thank you," she said in a sweet high voice. Then she turned and ran through the crowd. Aelia considered doing the same when she heard the guard speak again.

“I will ask one more time: what are you going to do to repay me for the danger you placed me in?” His eyes sharpened into razors as he looked down her body. “If you have no money, then there are other options. But I will have recompense.”

Aelia’s cheeks flushed as the mixed emotions in her belly were overwhelmed by anger. She put her hand into her olive-colored jacket and clutched at the moss she’d collected from the forests outside of Cladance. She only knew a handful of spells, and she couldn't make the moss last for more than one of them, but she’d at least be able to knock him off his horse, she thought. "You want recompe--”

Pain blossomed in the back of her leg. She winced, thinking she’d been stung, but turned to find the boy she’d earlier been standing next to, with the wave of greasy blond hair that he couldn’t keep his hands away from. The boy had kicked her!

He leaned into her ear and whispered, “Just keep your mouth shut. I'll get you out of this.” Then, he glided around her and strode up to the guard.

“Sir, I am awfully sorry for my sister’s ignorance. She’s always been a little slow with her studies, if you know what I mean.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper aimed at the guard, but Aelia still heard it. "And everything else, to be honest."

Now she was furious. Kicked, insulted, and threatened. Somehow though, she kept her mouth shut. Maybe because she didn't know quite what to say.

The guard’s horse grunted, a puff of mist swelling out from the beast's nostrils. The guard himself snarled and said, “That hardly makes up for the incident.”

The boy had copper coins in his hand. Aelia thought she saw three pass from his palm to the guard’s.

"Keep you dog under control next time," he said to the boy, "or she might just be put down."

The guard shot Aelia a final icy stare and said, "Hope that I don't see you again, girl," before pulling on the reins of his horse and trotting on.

Her rage was mostly for the guard but all aimed at the boy. “How dare you kick me!” she snapped as he returned.

He shrugged easily. “How else was I meant to get you to shut up? You were talking yourself into a night in the Towers. Oh, and you owe me three pennies for it, by the way. In fact, call it four, for what I just risked on your behalf.”

“I didn’t ask you to risk anything!”

Now he suddenly looked just as mad as she felt. "Oh, okay, I'll just let you be raped by a city guard with a hygiene problem. I can always call him back, if you like?”

“That’s not funny. And besides, I didn't see you helping the girl.”

His face softened. “She would have moved. And yeah, sorry. But that was going to happen if you couldn't pay him. And what are you, fourteen?”

Surely the guard hadn't meant... that? And what did he mean fourteen? Admittedly, she was a little short but... "I'm sixteen. And I think it’s pretty clear I’m not fourteen."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure you are. And I'm a full a paladin."

"I am sixteen," she said again, voice fierce in its insistence.

His eyes looked her over like he was inspecting livestock, and she became acutely aware of her small (but plenty ample, thank you very much) breasts.

"You sure don't look it."

"Perhaps you're just not very perceptive."

A slurred voice butted in and a waft of beer floated on the breeze. "I thought 'bout 'irteen."

"Thank you," said the boy to the drunk with the tankard. The drunk half-bowed then returned to studying his beer, as if trying to work out where most of it had gone.

Of course the drunk would side with the greasy young man. Probably was his father. "Fine," she said. "Think want you want. I'll give you your three silver to repay your stupidity, and then you're going to leave me alone." She slipped a hand into her purse and drew out the copper coins.

"Wow, I'm glad I risked being sent to the Towers on your behalf, for"--he made an act of slowly counting the coins between his fingers--"exactly zero profit."

She was about to reply when a gong sounded out, hushing the crowd behind them.

“What was that?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes a second time, and she hated the expression on his smug face as much as the first time. More so, in fact. He definitely had a face that grew more irritating the longer you had to look at it.

"You're new here, aren’t you? I should have known. You'd never have made it to fourteen if you lived here, not being as naive as you are." He paused, then added with a shake of his head. “Tourists.”

Her hand balled into a fist and it was all she could do to not clasp the moss in her pocket. “I’m not fourteen and I'm not a tourist. I’m here to study at the academy.” That wasn't quite true, but the boy didn't need the full truth. She hadn’t actually been accepted to the mage academy yet. Or even actually applied. But that was the plan, and her mother thought her plenty good enough to be accepted.

He eyed her another time, more suspiciously. “Oh yeah? Well. You’ve got a lot to learn about city living, let alone what they’re going to try to teach you at that place.”

A second gong.

Now there was absolute silence.

The boy nodded at his feet and whispered, "It's about to start. Best come stand in front of me if you want to be able to watch it."

She paused, half-tempted to stubbornly remain behind him, rather than give in to another of his ideas. But she did desperately want to see the transformation and his huge head would block her line of sight.

She stepped in front of him and waited.

And finally, the church began to change.