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Myranda marched off to her hut to retrieve her casting staff and begin her first day of training under Ayna, the wind mage. Her place of study was a breezy grove not far from where Solomon spent his time. She looked about, but could not locate the little sprite that had been taunting her so regularly.
"Hello?" Myranda called anxiously.
Myn sniffed at the air and seemed to indicate a particular tree. Myranda approached the tree and looked up into it. It had an odd rune carefully carved into it.
"Ayna?" she repeated.
The tiny, gossamer-winged creature fluttered down from the tree to eye-level with Myranda. She resembled a tiny, exquisitely beautiful woman in a shimmery, powder blue dress. Looking at her, it seemed as though she should be the sweetest, dearest creature alive, but the illusion was destroyed when she opened her mouth.
"In this world, we have a thing we call 'the sun.' It is a great ball of light, and when it is overhead we call it 'daytime.' 'Daytime' is when civilized creatures do their business!" she reprimanded in the most condescending manner possible.
The wind of the grove seemed to wax and wane with the fairy's anger. It was quite gusty at the moment.
"I am sorry," Myranda said.
"You certainly are. I want you here at dawn tomorrow. Just because you are showing an unusual amount of prowess for someone of your stunted species does not give you the right to disrupt my way of life," she said.
"Ayna, enough!" came Deacon's voice from behind.
"Oh, good heavens, another one. Do you things travel in packs?" Ayna raved.
"You know that she just got through with Solomon, and he likes to work at night," Deacon said.
"That may be so, but I could hardly be confused for that beast. Now, if you two are through irritating me, I would like to get a bit more sleep before I begin passing on real wisdom," Ayna said, whisking off before any more could be said.
"What can I say? Ayna excels at first impressions," Deacon said.
"So I see. She is quite the little tyrant, isn't she," Myranda whispered.
"Yes, and with remarkably acute hearing," Deacon said with a pained look on his face.
"That is true," Ayna said, suddenly directly behind Myranda again. "I must say, I am surprised to hear such an infuriating statement come out of your mouth. Not for the stunning ignorance behind it. That much is to be expected. I frankly am surprised that you are able to form a complete sentence, particularly after your suicidal performance of Solomon's test."
"Oh, Ayna, excuse me, I--" Myranda began.
"There is no excuse for you, and do not call me Ayna. I am Highest Master Ayna until I give you permission to call me otherwise. Now leave before you stick your foot further into your mouth," she said.
Myranda walked slowly away, Deacon beside her.
"Tell me when we are far enough," she mouthed silently.
They were nearly halfway to the meal hut before Deacon gave her the sign.
"What a monster!" she said.
"Don't mind her. She assumes that you assume that she is inferior, so she constantly affirms the opposite," he said.
"I wasn't talking about Ayna," Myranda said.
"Oh?" Deacon replied. "I'd heard that you and Lain had a rather eventful session today. What did you learn?" he asked.
"That my home kingdom's army, which is composed at least partially of inhuman creatures of some sort, hired him, an assassin, to capture me for touching the sword and surviving," she said.
"Well . . . that was . . . informative," he said.
"What am I going to do now? I only awoke recently, and now I have to show up at dawn fully rested? I would never be able to sleep with all of this swirling about in my head even if I was tired," she said.
"Well, I suppose you could cast a sleep spell on yourself," he said.
"The only sleep I know is healing sleep," she said.
"Oh, no. Never use a spell for a purpose other than it was explicitly intended. You said that you were a student of white wizardry. How is it that you do not know sleep?" he asked.
"I was taught with the explicit intention of being a field healer for a rebel group. I do not think that sleep had placed highly on their list of requirements," she said.
"Well that is folly. In the repertoire of a pure white wizard, sleep is among the only spells that may be used to defend one's self. It is also one of the simplest spells. Though, to be fair, it is far wiser to have it cast upon you rather than to cast it upon yourself, unless you have also learned how to delay the effects of a spell until it has been fully cast. Delay falls within my realm, by the way," Deacon said.
"I would appreciate it if you would just put me to sleep," she said.
Deacon agreed and the pair, as always joined by Myn, went to her hut.
"Before you do this . . . is there any way that you can . . . prevent a dream from happening?" she asked.
"I am not certain. Why?" he wondered.
"I have not been having very pleasant dreams. In fact I have come to dread them," she said.
"How so?" he asked.
She quickly recounted the dreams of the dark field, the dreams of Lain's treachery, and the darkness that spoke with her voice. All the while Deacon nodded with concern.
"I see. The dreams of Lain are understandable, but the others . . . they seem to have an almost prophetic quality to them. Were I you I would not wish to silence them. In times to come they could provide much-needed clues about . . . well . . . times to come," he said.
"Well, if you really believe that, I suppose I can suffer through them," she said.
"Oh, indeed I do," he said. "And from now on, while we take our morning meal together, I would greatly appreciate it if you would tell me any dreams you may have."
"As you wish," she said.
Deacon held out his crystal and, with a few words, sent Myranda into a deep, pleasant sleep.