Sanice took a long time, long enough that he could hear the ding-dong of the church bells. It started faintly at first, all the way up the hill where the nobles and their families and the Tsarina resided. Then the sound traveled down as the minor churches began ringing their own as well. The bells were definitely made of cheaper metal, they did not sound as elegant, or in tune. Or perhaps the boys the priestesses hired to ring the bells were completely tone deaf. Nikolas grinned at the thought, he'd always wanted to sneak up to a bell tower and ring the bell in the dead of night. That would show the lone priestess in their village a taste of her own medicine. She woke up earlier than the roosters. But he doubted he could get away with such antics now. The churches here must simply be full of people, for all the towering spires he could see around him.

"Are these spires all the churches?" Nikolas asked, pointing, just to confirm his suspicions.

In Befeld they only had the one, and a small one compared to the behemoth he'd seen from afar in Prebovna. Icfeld must be so big that they segregate their church-goers, like how Befeld had elevated pews for the merchants and their families. He didn't remember where his family had sat. His father only took them on the anniversaries of his siblings' death to lay flowers at the statue of the Goddess. Viola though, Viola had found comfort in it, but the one time she didn't she had gone home in a huff, furious that the priestess did not allow her to sit with her friend.

'He's not a merchant,' Brytha had said, unfazed while Viola had raged and fumed. She had simply flipped over a new pages and started writing whatever it was she liked to write, ignoring the stomping feet and Viola's red face.

'So?'

'So he doesn't sit with merchants and their families.'

'That's unfair!'

'You ever try asking the Goddess about it?' It was the only time she had looked up from her notes.

He had caught a look of her face and he didn't like it at all. Mainly because it was the same look he'd seen on her face years ago when she plotted to give their mother the divorce papers. Viola had asked an innocent question, Nikolas had thought, why had Brytha reacted so coldly? But then again, they had just moved to Befeld and Brytha was settling in, perhaps she was just stressed. She had always done well under stress but that meant she was snappish to them. But never to Aldeim, Brytha knew better to be snappish to Aldeim.

"Yes, they've got a church for the troupers, a church for the fishermen, a church for the Rytsars, a church for the merchants," said Tino, nodding and waving his hand in the direction of the sounds.

"Hm," Nikolas said noncommittally. Brytha had drawn the smaller deities worshiped around Icfeld in his notebook. It was good to know, she had insisted. Sometimes when one knows which God or Goddess a person prays to, then the interactions one had with the person is smoother.

She had drawn necklaces that people wore, or bracelets. But he could see nothing of the sort on Tino. So he must worship the Goddess, and he had said so much when he went into great detail about the tributes one could find there. It was the kind of knowledge one only knew by being a devotee.

"Look alive," Tino said suddenly, tapping Nikolas on the shoulder. "Here comes the lady of the hour."

Sanice looked vaguely irritated, Nikolas thought, the lines of her eyes were set in a frown. If she was Brytha he would ask, but she was not his sister so he kept his mouth quiet. To his surprise, it was Tino who spoke up, and his voice was pitched all somber and polite.

"Did something not go well, ​​Mastachka Senice?"

It was the first time Tino used a title, Nikolas realized, and wondered if he ought to have used one all along. But Senice had simply introduced herself as Senice, so surely she must want to only be addressed by Senice.

"The usual," Senice looked irritated. She adjusted her hat on her head with a stiff angry formality. "The usual nonsense. Never mind. She let out a breath, "Right, let's go about finding you this ​​Mastachka Faila and her troupe. What were her symbols?"

"A harp and a silver lantern," he recited, then blinked, surprised that he remembered. He hadn't even sat in on Brytha's lessons and he had remembered! He swallowed down the delight and shifted from one foot to another as he watched Senice frown in concentration.

Senice nodded, "Harp and silver lantern, how unique. Hm, usually that means they are performers and the silver lantern means they hail from the more northern regions. Almost where your father was from, no?"

He blinked, "I guess?" He lived in Befeld for most of his life, surely she would say that he lived there. But he supposed Senice was one of the more strictly traditional types, where one was born would always be where one hailed from.

"Come then," she motioned towards Nikolas, "best hurry before everyone and their mother rushes out the door to join an even bigger circus. Stay here Tino and make sure no one takes my spot. You are free to use your pike."

"Understood!" Tino said, holding his palm up in a salute. He gave Nikolas a friendly grin, "If you don't come by later I'll be sure to see you soon! Someone has to show you how to go about Prebovna!"

Nikolas waved and then turned to jog behind a very fast Senice. He thought that it was hard to follow Aldeim when he was younger, or Brytha when she set her sights on someone, or running after… he took in a breath, catching a glimpse of two children scampering past them, running after Felie and Ada.

"They'll be this way," she said, moving swiftly between the spaces of people, so quickly that Nikolas had to squeeze through legs and push through bodies to keep up. She kept a running commentary of who they passed though, and he was glad that at least he could make out her voice. It would be very unfortunate to lose her in this crowd.

There were the caravans of the Hayri with spices and incense, colorful birds and women in turbans and long flowing robes. Then there were the Khmedi, whose wagons were pulled by horses with oddly shaped backs and long necks. Knitted blankets were draped over them and they blinked lazily as Nikolas rushed past, their long lashes and tongues chewing green and silver grass. They passed the Anshad, who did not have wagons but had tents, and large winged beasts with the face of horses and the bodies of snow lions. On any other day he would have stopped to look, to marvel at whatever creature they were but Sanice must have seen these animals daily because she simply strolled past them as if they were regular house cats muzzled firmly to the ground.

"Here they are," said Senice, motioning towards a series of wagons with swirls of blue and grey painted on the wood, "the Llandre."

The two of them looked around, before Nikolas spotted the harp and lantern and pointed it out to Senice. "There!"

"Right then," said Senice, and she smiled at him, impressed. "Good eye."

If he wasn't so horrible with numbers and letters perhaps he could accompany Senice on her merchanting trips. Or, Nikolas thought, another thought coming to his mind, this one brighter and more hopeful, perhaps he could be a Rytsar. Then he shook his head, that was foolish, he had no real training. What he needed to work on now as to impress Mastachka Faila. So he brushed back his hair and hoped that his clothes were in order.

Senice walked toward this wagon at a more sedate pace. There were three figures sitting outside the wagon when Sanice approached with Nikolas walking behind her, a woman with brown curly hair who was carving something in her lap, a dark haired man strumming a lute and a man with greying hair smoking a pipe. They all wore patterned wool kilts and woolen cloaks, green and dark blue for the men, while the woman's had thin stripes of silver.

"Good evening, I am ​​Mastachka Sanice," said Sanice pleasantly, and here she made a short bow, "​I am looking for ​​Mastachka Faila."

The woman looked up, and Nikolas felt like he had seen her somewhere. She looked very familiar to him, and he couldn't place why. Then it occurred to him that she had his father's pale angular features, though Aldeim never had that many freckles on his face.

"I am she," said ​​Mastachka Faila. She returned the bow to Senice before giving Nikolas a curious look. "And who is this?"

"Nikolas is here," Senice placed both hands on Nikolas's shoulders and pushed him forward, "on the behalf of his sister Brytha and his father Aldeim."

There was no reaction when Brytha's name was mentioned but at Aldeim's name Faila's eyes brightened recognition. She clapped her hands together, nearly dropping the knife and carving she had been working on.

"Ah! Nikolas! Of course, your father did say something about you!" She placed her carving, a wooden animal of some kind, on the cushion she was seated on and made her way to Nikolas.

"It is a pleasure to meet you ​​Mastachka Faila," said Nikolas, making sure that his bow was respectful and deep enough. He hoped it was the right bow, it was an Icfeldian one, not a Llandrian one. Not that he even knew what a Llandrian bow would even look like, it was a miracle he knew what they were wearing.

Faila waved his courtesy aside, "Oh there is no need for that, we are all friends here." There was a warmth to her smile that reminded him faintly of Jozin's mother, and he stopped himself from reaching for his necklace. No, there was no warmth there, and no, he should not draw attention to it.

"I leave you in good hands," said ​​Senice, clapping Nikolas's shoulder and smiling kindly, "Do confirm to your sister I've done that. I would hate for her to suspect my honesty."

He supposed that Brytha must have paid in advance for his journey, and he hoped that it wasn't as high as the tuition for his other siblings. He had to pay her back, he didn't want to add to more of her money woes, even if he knew at the back of his mind that Brytha was too smart to get their family into debt. She had left a good impression on Senice, so it was only fair that the woman should leave with a good view of his family as well.

"Thank you, ​​Mastachka Senice," Nikolas said, deciding he ought to imitate Tino and how he did that little salute to her.

This had the desired effect. Sanice smiled and leaned in, whispering in his ear, "You can ask around for a scribe anywhere but do not do so in Rianskala."

"Thank you for your advice," he said honestly, storing the information away for future reference. He had to ask Faila then, for a good scribe. But first, he had to make his introductions to the others. He smiled at the two men and made the same bow as he did to Faila, but less deep, "I am Nikolas, pleased to meet you."

"Well isn't he a gentleman," said the man holding the lute. He stood up, lute in one hand and holding out his calloused palm to Nikolas. "Jaufre, at your service. And the lazy bastard there is Erwing."

Nikolas shook Jaufre's hand and hesitated, wondering if he should wait for Erwing to stand up.

"I've earned my rest," Erwing grunted through his pipe. Then he laboriously got to his feet. "You can call me Erl."

"Arl?" Nikolas tried valiantly.

"Close enough," Erl chuckled.