Sundeera rolls her eyes as Kywen quickly abandons her sulking to hastily unfold the cloth, revealing a delicate bracelet, inlaid with two large, intricately cut crystals.

“How did you manage to get your hands on such a well-paired trinket?” Kywen says in a low voice.

Sundeera catches herself just in time to avoid the whole truth, “I made a friend, and she owed me a favor. Said I could pick anything of hers I wanted.”

“Only a fool would give something this powerful up. Quite some favor or quite some friend?”

“You’re jealous!”

“Not in the slightest,” Kywen scowls, “I just don’t understand what delayed you for so long or why you’d rather be digging up rootworms with Jordis and Juri this morning instead of looking for the scroll with me.” She hands the jewelry back to Sundeera, meeting her gaze directly.

“You know your uncles expected you to be there. I was going to tell you about training and show you the bracelet over the extra-fresh, extra-large berry tart they promised us. You know the odds of finding the scroll today. You’ve been searching since that old lady got in your head almost ten seasons ago, what’s one more day?”

“Did you eat the tart?”

Sundeera ignores the vein beginning to bulge across Kywen’s forehead and slides the bracelet onto her wrist. Its two gems, one turquoise and one translucent, brighten against the steamy backdrop as she holds it up to the light.

“Let’s not spoil the fun before it begins,” Sundeera whispers, glancing toward the apprentices at the far end of the lodge. They remain focused on their casting, ignoring the girls as usual. Kywen tries to maintain her glare, but curiosity soon weakens her resolve and she nods in agreement.

Sundeera immediately feels the flow of energy swirl within her as she creates a binding and channels her magic through the bracelet, steadying her mind and bracing her body to withstand the power of more than one gem at a time. “Hold your breath,” she says, lifting her hands and channeling a column of water around Kywen. With a small gesture, she prompts the water to spin, urging it faster by the second. The whirlpool starts spitting out pebbles, twigs, and floral bits previously glued to Kywen’s chestnut-brown skin. She releases the column, letting it splash back into the tub to slosh over the sides in foamy waves.

Kywen gasps as she sucks in fresh air, clasping her hands together, “More!”

“If you hadn’t been paid in griddle-cakes while I was gone, I might be able to lift you, but for now you’ll have to climb out on your own.”

Kywen howls with laughter, “Oh, you think you’re a Weaver now?”

“No, but I can make you move a little quicker,” Sundeera says, pointing at the rippling water inside the tub. A thin sheet of ice spreads across the surface, and Kywen yelps, skin erupting with goosebumps as she scrambles over the side.

“Are you going to g-get me a wrap?” Kywen asks between chattering teeth.

Without a word, Sundeera lifts both hands. The air in the room thickens into a dense cloud until, straining with effort, she lowers her hands in a slow circular motion. Squeezing her eyes shut, she increases the speed, sweat beading on her brow as a light cyclone of air swirls around Kywen. Taking a deep breath, she sweeps one hand up and then down, clenching it into a tight fist as it drops.

Kywen’s mouth hangs open as she watches Sundeera use her other hand to coax the droplets of water flying from her body into a thin stream, guiding them back into the tub.

Opening her eyes, Sundeera brings both hands up, reversing the movements until the air becomes still again. With an audible pop, she releases the binding, swaying from the exertion.

Kywen examines her body and hair while Sundeera digs into the nearest chest and stuffs a handful of bright red berries in her mouth, followed by chunks from a delicate wedge of speckled cheese.

“Not a drop of water yet my hair and skin feel like silk,” Kywen murmurs, “your channeling has gotten stronger. I’m sorry I almost ruined your surprise.”

Sundeera beams at her nexum as she pops the last bits of cheese in her mouth, licking the juice-stained crumbs from her fingers. Noticing one of the nearly burned down candle-clocks, she leaps up to fetch a plain kaftan from the basket and tosses it at Kywen before returning the bracelet to its hiding place.

“We need to move quickly. You may not care about this evening, but I have no desire to get stuck in the plains herding those gargantuan taratarm beasts because you were more concerned with mooning over the dinner spread than following customs,” Sundeera says, pushing a half-dressed Kywen through the door. “If you want to stay in Hindar, you need to avoid the central lowlands. Enclaves Strelux and Briar are both Spirit clans, so you’ll spend most of your time indoors, practicing levitations and transcribing their worship chants over candlelight for the first few seasons. Our best chance is Enclave Ranov.”

“The Mimic Forest guardians?” Kywen asks, jogging to keep pace as they slip through the wide corridors between the bathing lodge and the main house.

“They do more than guard the forest,” Sundeera calls over her shoulder, “they’re the largest enclave of the Flora clans, and they have a collection of detailed maps, probably the best you can find in Hindar. They regularly travel throughout all the other clan territories, and with their endless crop-fields, you’ll be able to spend more time outdoors than most other first-year apprentices.”

Curiosity blooms across Kywen’s face as they enter the house by a side entrance at the base of the stairs. “That doesn’t sound half bad,” she says, “but why does it feel like you’re leaving something important out.”

Sundeera shrugs before racing up the staircase and peering down the hallway. “It’s nothing your green thumb can’t handle,” she calls down, “but it’s not like you have any plans. The last time we talked you were going to ignore everyone and hope they ignored you back.”

Kywen slows her ascent and pauses at the top of the stairs. She opens her mouth but quickly closes it and strolls into her room, picking up the patterned emerald sari with gold and purple trim that Yamma had laid out alongside a solid gold bib necklace.

“Okay,” Sundeera says, crossing her arms as she leans against the door frame, “who’s hiding something now?”

“Things changed a bit.” Kywen forces a tight smile. “While you were gone, Aric and Cira helped my father transport a shipment of imbued linens to Fair Isle. They made a brief stop at the smaller of the Wiovan islands, and it turns out the Order may be recruiting. They’re coming to the Collaboration. Imagine the secrets they might know, having been in possession of the Scroll of Jakuta before it disappeared.”

“You can’t be serious,” Sundeera clutches her belly as it roils like the sea, “they offer little and take everything. You’ve heard how impossible it is to break a contract with the Wiovan let alone leave the Order once you’ve joined!”

“This is why I didn’t tell you. You put too much weight behind gossip, and you know that’s all there is to the Wiovan, freshwater gossip. They haven’t much left their islands for a hundred seasons, and they’ve never participated in a single Collaboration. Not to mention, you’ll be there to protect me if anything goes wrong since Inaru training made you so strong now,” Kywen says with a wink as she begins to change from the kaftan to the sari.

“Aren’t you worried about your channeling?”

“I heard the Order requires a different kind of test than the other clans. Something about a ritual with the sea water. I’m not concerned.”

Sundeera takes a deep breath, bracing herself as the same jumbled dream-like memory bubbles up from her subconscious again. It started happening after the second phase of Inaru training, forcing itself into her mind during moments of sharp stress. Scorching fire, Kywen’s screams, and charred bodies flash like memories replaying in her mind’s eye. As her palms bead with sweat, she forces the vision down and grabs at the first idea that floats up.

“I need you to promise that nothing I tell you leaves this room.”

Kywen continues draping the silky fabric and nods.

“I’m serious. I wasn’t supposed to hear anything. If the Inaru find out I’ve told you, we’ll both be in serious danger.”

“Okay, I promise,” Kywen says, letting her hands fall to her side and giving Sundeera her full attention.

Sundeera shuts the door and quietly recounts what happened during and after the Inaru Ice Trial, explaining why she didn’t return as expected. At the mention of the second Scroll of Jakuta, Kywen’s eyes grow wide, and as Sundeera weaves the truth with tiny lies, she sends a plea to the spirits for Kywen’s forgiveness if she finds out. She hasn’t felt this guilty since their incident in the meadow several seasons ago.

Without the first scroll, missing for over a hundred seasons, its successor remains nothing more than a fable recited from ocean to ocean, countless souls tossing their lot into the search only to die or be left with nothing but empty hands and heartache. Seasons come and go while people give up and bitterly move on. Even worse, some disappear, never to be heard from again.

Every so often, rumors are stoked and fresh blood rushes to take up the search, but the numbers are becoming fewer each time. Sundeera’s thoughts shift to the legends meant to guide those willing to lend their lives to the hunt and the riddles each contain. At least half have been thoroughly explored and abandoned, found to be nothing more than elaborate myths concocted by one faith or another to draw new worshipers.

Guided by a panic that begins to engulf her, Sundeera’s mind reels as she runs through her options. Whatever the risk to their bond, she can’t let Kywen anywhere near the Wiovan. Resolute, she settles her racing heart, invoking the mindful calm instilled by her Inaru training and plucks a name that swims out from behind the staticky sounds of rain falling on fat leaves.

“Salar,” Sundeera whispers, “there’s an ancient tree we need to visit in Salar.”