Squirrel was pacing back and forth, uncomfortable with the amount of marble looming over her head. As far as she was concerned, wise men don’t make the roofs of their academies out of tons and tons of rock. The wizard with the flowing beard had told her to wait in the lobby and that he would pick a student to join her act. He had also gone on to further impress on her the fact that wizards were invariably noble-born, and without his assistance, she wouldn’t even be able to hire the lowliest apprentice, as her life’s savings wouldn’t make them blink an eye.

How should I introduce myself to him? I can’t have him turning his noble nose up at the sight of me. Reginald said first impressions are important, if I can’t get respect, he should at least be afraid of me. Squirrel though to herself, planning her first meeting with the temporary addition to their crew. If she didn’t crack down on him hard, his noble instinct would kick in, and he would step all over her and the rest of the crew. Squirrel nodded, resolving to ride him mercilessly, at least at first.

The wooden door clicked, and a young man in a black robe, with long purple and red ribbons hanging down from his collar. His gaze scanned the room, paused on Squirrel, looked down at her clothes, and then slid away, dismissing her. A second later, a slight frown crossed the boy’s face, and he furrowed his brows in confusion before he turned and walked back out the door.

Squirrel’s breath caught as his grey eyes met hers, his calm gaze lent him the atmosphere of someone beyond his age. The tilt of his lips and the scuff marks on his clothes suggested a boyish sense of humor, while his pale, unmarred skin spoke of someone born to wealth. Squirrels considered changing her opinion of nobles as he looked at her with interest, then her stomach began to burn with rage as he dismissed her and turned to walk away. squirrel decided that her first thoughts on how to treat the wizard had been correct. She began padding forward silently.

***

Toren quietly opened the door, stepped into the lobby. The receptionist was gone, and there was a beggar who had taken the opportunity to come inside and admire the marble architecture. Toren glanced around, and didn’t see the girl he was supposed to help. He glanced around, wondering if he should say anything about the begger, then shrugged. It wasn’t like there was anything incredibly valuable in the lobby that could be carried by human hands.

Toren turned and began heading back to the Headmaster’s office, intending to ask for a more detailed description of the girl in question, and perhaps where to find her, having found the Lobby empty. A weight hit Toren’s spine, and he was thrown to the ground.

***

Squirrel found herself on top of the apprentice, her knee on his spine. “If you’re trying to rob me,” the boy beneath her spoke into the marble stone floor. “you should know that we aren’t allowed to keep money on hand.” he said, peering up at her from the corner of his eye. Squirrel leaned forward, putting a bit more weight on his spine, and he shut up.

“I spoke to your Headmaster,” Squirrel said, a hard edge to her voice. “He said you would help me, that you had the best qualifications for the job, and that if you didn’t, you could kiss your life here goodbye. I didn’t come here to be treated like a beggar.”

Toren craned his neck, appraising the girl on top of him with his left eye. “You’re not a beggar?” he asked. Her face darkened, but she stepped off of Toren and offered him a hand up.

“No,” She said, her arm extended. “I’m not.” Toren glanced up at the hard calluses on her fingers, and the lean muscle travelling up the girl’s arm. He took her hand, and she hauled him to his feet. “Squirrel,” she said, shaking his hand.

“What?” Toren asked, matching her warm grip with his own.

“My name is Squirrel,” she said, dropping his hand. “I’m an entertainer with Reginald Von Gattson’s Circus.”

“Toren Reinbahm,”Toren said. “Circus… That means you want my help to win the first place prize?” he asked.

Squirrel nodded. “And the prestige that comes with being hailed at the best performance of the year. It’s worth a great deal of money to us.”

“I’ll bet,” Toren said. “Do you have any plans on the question from the oracle this year?” he said, his eyes lighting up.

“Not particularly,” Squirrel said. “If you help us, you can take that prize for yourself, I know you don’t need the money.” Squirrel was lying through her teeth, but the boy in front of her didn’t pay any attention to her, his gaze flickering off to the side as though he were in deep thought. “I know how much wizards like knowing things, I figured it was only fair if you help us win.”

“It’s more than that!” Toren said, beaming. “The answer to any one question. You could make yourself wealthy beyond compare or happy for the rest of your life, just asking the right question.” Toren grinned conspiratorially. “We could ask where to find an undiscovered gold vein, or where to find the secrets of ancient magic!” He shuddered.

Squirrel glanced away from the boy bouncing up and down like a child, and felt a pang of guilt for deceiving him, seeing as how any one of his questions would do anyone else a world more good than knowing a name. Except for Squirrel. All the gold, power and happiness in the world wouldn’t fill the void of not knowing who she was.

Every night, she dreamt of fire, blood, and running, and always, someone shouting her name. If she didn’t figure it out, it was going to haunt her to her death. Squirrel was willing to deal with the guilt of lying to the wizard apprentice if it meant she could put that nagging doubt behind her. The possibility occurred to her that she might be earning the enmity of a soon-to-be powerful wizard from a noble family, but she’d deal with that when it happened.

“So Squirrel, how can I help you?” Toren said, rubbing his palms together with a sleazy expression.

“Follow me, I’ll tell you on the way,” Squirrel said, tilting her head towards the door. Toren looked at the door, then back toward the dorm. Squirrel spotted some sadness and hesitation in his expression.

“Something wrong?” Squirrel asked, watching Toren’s face.

The boy shook his head and grinned brazenly. “No, I’m ready to go.” Toren said, following Squirrel out the main entrance.

Even seeing it the second time, Squirrel marveled at the beautiful architecture, the students relaxing on brilliant green lawns that sparkled like emeralds in the sun, shot through with pale marble pathways branching across the Academy.

“So what do you need?” Toren said, walking beside her, his gaze passing over the opulence without batting an eye.

Squirrel’s attention snapped back, and she willed away the glittering grass and laughter of the students. “I saw your headmaster convince someone he was a dog,” she said, glancing over at Toren, who listened with a thoughtful expression. “People laughed until their lungs gave out. Do you think you could manage that?”

“The Headmaster isn’t the yardstick by which you should measure wizards,” Toren said with a scoff. “The man’s a freak of nature. He claims to have found the unifying principle of magic, allowing him to use all seven schools of magic. Who else could shepherd thousands of wizards, each one powerful in their own right? While the school he used on the man you saw was surely enchantment, completely changing someone’s mind like that with a single sentence is beyond most Enchanter’s capabilities.”

“And you?” Squirrel asked. “Can you do it?”

Toren waggled his hand with a scrunched expression. “I could probably do it with five or six sentences to someone who wants it.” Squirrel looked at him incredulously. “Just ask for a volunteer,” Toren explained. “The fact that they volunteered creates a back door in their mind, means they are willing enough to accept suggestion.”

“The audience is going to be packed with nobles, Toren,” Squirrel said.

“What’s the problem?” Toren asked.

“I’m not going to make a noble act like a dog, even if they volunteered,” Squirrel said, then she thumbed her chin. “Maybe we can get them to believe they are a famous hero, and have them take the stage as such.” Squirrel began adjusting her plan to fit the audience.

“I don’t see why you can’t, some of them act like dogs already,” Toren said with a sour face as they walked along a hedge-lined path.

“There you are, Toren!” A voice called from beyond the hedge. Squirrel turned and saw five students with red ribbons flowing from their collars sprinting across the beautiful lawn, jumping over reclining students as they went.

Squirrel looked back to Toren, and her mind was unable to make sense of what her eyes saw. Toren split into three, two running away in separate directions at a full sprint while the third flopped to the ground, rolled up to the hedge and turned green, a leaf pattern covering his whole body. The leafy green Toren held his finger to his lips for silence as the five boys vaulted over the hedge, immediately setting after the two running Torens.

One of the boys, a particulary handsome young man with a strong jaw, light freckles and an easygoing smile, stopped chasing Toren to approach her. He came to stand in front of her, his feet about two feet away from where Toren lay disguised as an extension of the hedge.

“Pardon madam, may I ask what the two of you were talking about?” the handsome young man said as he approached. Squirrel felt the same hitch in her breath as when she had first seen Toren. “My name is Neil, I’ve been trying to catch that shifty bastard for weeks now, but he’s the slipperiest student in the whole academy. Would you happen to know anything about where he might go?”

Squirrel noticed some faint bruising around his eyes and cheeks, cleverly concealed with make-up. She felt a tug of pity on her heart, and found that her mouth was about to tell the young man everything he wanted to know. Neil broke into a shy smile, his perfectly ordered teeth white against his tanned skin, and Squirrel glanced down at the hedge, her mouth open.

A thought ran through Squirrel’s mind like a blast of ice water, and her mouth closed with a click. Is he using magic on me? She thought, looking back up at the boy suspiciously. “And what do you need Toren for?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.

***

Neil swallowed, his smile faltering, while Toren sighed silently. One of the major rules of enchantment was never let your confidence break, but Neil was so used to his suggestion working on women, he’d been taken aback by her questioning him instead. Neil recovered quickly, but the spell had already been broken.

“He’s stolen something of great value from the teachers,” Neil said squaring his shoulders. “fraternized with students from other schools, was found in the girl’s dormitory assaulting a-“

“Lies!” Toren said as he lunged away from the hedge and struck Neil across the nose. Neil dropped to the ground, his eyes wide as Toren’s skin and clothes regained their former color, the leaf pattern fading from them. “You know exactly what happened there, and no amount of suggestion laced lies will change that!”

***

Neil wiped the blood away from his nose, a vicious smile on his face. “Toren, nice to see you,” he said before lunging forward and grappling Toren around the waist, riding him to the ground. Squirrel watched as the two brawled, hurling insults and recriminations at each other. After a moment of struggling, Neil got on top, and began pummeling Toren from above with his fists, shouting with wordless rage.

Squirrel watched as Toren’s skin gave birth to a swarm of spiders that crawled up to Neil, who had gained the upper hand. The younger boy flinched, and Toren bucked him off, jumping on top and returning the beating. Squirrel sighed and glanced around the academy grounds, where many students had closed in to watch the fight.

It was a childish affair to Squirrel, who had been taught the ins and outs of a brawl by Reginald and the older members of the troupe. It was apparent to her that the wizard academy didn’t place a lot of emphasis on fighting, as she watched the two breathing heavily, Toren weakly trying to get his fists through Neil’s defences. The two were covered in scratches, and both their noses were bleeding, as Toren finally came to a stop, his breath heavy.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Squirrel said, grabbing Toren by the collar and hauling him to his feet. “We’ve got stuff to do today, and I want you in good condition for the next week.” Toren stumbled as Squirrel dragged him away, too tired to resist.

Neil stood and screamed, charging Toren again, Squirrel glanced over her shoulder and saw the battered young man running toward them with his head down. Instinctively, she snapped her leg up and laid a swift blow along the side of his head, dropping Neil bonelessly to the ground. Neil lay facedown on the marble pathway, his bloody nose making a small pool around his head.

The students surrounding them went silent, their eyes fixed on Squirrel, who dropped her foot back to the ground, and bent to check on Neil. She rolled him onto his side and checked that the noble born wizard was indeed still breathing, then she decided to get out of their before anyone memorized her appearance too well.

***

The Headmaster watched all this from his office, his bushy white eyebrows raised as Neil was knocked out.

“Do you ever think that we should hire a monk from Jenishan to round out the children’s physical education?” the question came from Giles, the illusion master who had advocated leniency with Toren.

“No,” the Headmaster said, shaking his head. “Jenishan monks teach a subversive philosophy that could land us in hot water with the Royal order.” The old man glanced back at his desk, that now showed Toren stumbling after Squirrel, who had a firm grasp on his ear. “Tensions are going to be strained enough as it is.”

“I know an old veteran who’s looking to retire,” Giles said. “I’ve heard he’s studied in Jenishan. Makes people look like bumbling idiots when he fights them.”

The Headmaster, the man in charge of the Academy’s growth for the last two hundred years, broke into a smile. “Sounds like our kind of instructor, is he willing?” he asked.

Giles shrugged. “Even a retired man needs some kind of work to occupy his time,” Giles said. “I’ll get him on the hook, Headmaster.”

“Thank you,” the Headmaster said, dismissing Giles, before returning his eyes to the desk following the girl. He was curious about why the young girl was such a monumental ill omen, and the only apprentice he trusted to survive luck that bad was Toren. The contract with the students allowed the Headmaster to scry on them at any time, and so he had placed a problem child in need of a lesson next to a slowly tightening knot of fate, giving him the ability to keep tabs on it.

The Headmaster of the Royal Academy of Magic sighed and sat down in his chair, watching history unfurl.