Book 4: The Long Journey

Chapter 1

“Maestro?”

“Uh,” was all Nathaniel could manage, rolling over and briefly wondering why the universe hated him. He would never shake the feeling of wanting to sleep until noon, and his student, it seemed, would never shake the feeling of needing to ask him a question at dawn.

“Maestro.”

“Sienna.” He pushed himself up onto his elbows, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “What can I do for you at crack of dawn, yet again?”

She smiled, because she knew that he wasn't really mad. Nathaniel was never mad at her, not since she became his student in magic.

Most elders, or Maestros as they were called, followed a formula They trained as a Tiro student until they came of age to the take the tests set out by the Jurors, and then they usually spent a few years on their own before they took their own Tiro, and the cycle repeated. The witches were guardians of the galaxy, keeping peace any way they could. Of course, sometimes keeping the peace meant fighting in wars, which had been Nathaniel's specialty He had been a warrior, and only recently through the tests when his former Maestro had suggested what had previously been impossible. Desmond had suggested they both train Sienna, a witch of unparalleled power. The irony was, due a defective gene, she was incompatible with any magic at all.

It took years to figure it out, years of carefully training her fragile body before they realized what the obvious solution was. In a controversial choice, they blocked her magic chemically with daily IVs.

With these infusions, which they told no one about, Sienna thrived. She was still quiet, still thin, but she wasn't fainting at every turn, nor was she seizing at a twist of the head. She just couldn't do magic, and both her Maestros focused on the other aspects of the upcoming tests, such as negotiation and translation.

Neither of them talked about the fact that the ability to pass the tests without magic was impossible. Nathaniel was determined to never leave her, especially when they had been through so much. Two years ago, Sienna had lost her way, following a wayward witch she loved off the beaten path and nearly leaving them. Things had never been the same since, Nathaniel realized, but it didn't change his devotion

Except, at six a.m., then he questioned it. When they had originally started training Sienna, they had agreed on twelve hour shifts in which they would be on call, should an emergency arise. Desmond often took his quite literally, and Nathaniel found that as soon as his elder was not on call, he found a way to send the early rising Sienna elsewhere. Desmond was technically on call from six a.m.- six p.m., which made Nathaniel fear what time it actually was.

“Quest bids are up. Please, let me bid.”

“Okay?” He was confused why she was asking permission for this. At sixteen, she was far more independent in most aspects. “Wait, bid for what?”

“Eliza's escort mission. Please, please, you haven't seen her in forever.”

“Ay-yi-yi, don't do that,” he said, sitting up in a panic

Eliza was the Queen of Jeffro, Sienna's former planet, and Nathaniel’s lady love since he was her age. Witches weren't supposed to have romantic love, thinking that it distracted from the magic. Everything, in the opinion of the Jurors, distracted from the magic. Three years ago, Desmond had gotten them all exiled for his lifelong love to another Maestro, Mariah. Since their return, they had all tried to be more cautious. Nathaniel used to take quests all the time to see Eliza, but now, he only saw her on stopovers, or her own diplomatic visits.

“Why not?” she asked. “If Devon was still here, I would want to see him everyday.”

He raised an eyebrow at that comment. Devon was the witch she had run off with once, claiming to be in love with him. Devon was chronically ill, as well, and they had bonded over their medical drama. But Devon had not chosen to return to the Order since, forcing his Maestro to take a healthy, strong Tiro and forging his own path, beyond the magic. It was rapidly clear with each day that Sienna did not want that. She wanted to be a witch, even if there was no magic involved. Witches stood for so much more than that, her Maestros had taught her.

She hadn't mentioned Devon much since he left, and not at all in the past year and a half. In one half moment, Nathaniel realized that this had been more than a passing fling. Had their bond still been intact, Nathaniel wondered if he would have heard his name in her thoughts daily.

Oops, thought his brain as he tried to think of something to say.

“Really?” was all he managed, and he wanted to smash his head against the pillow. Luckily, Sienna didn't seem too bothered by it.

“Let me bid for it. We are just to escort her to Natrine, nothing complicated.”

He sighed.

“Fine,” he said. “Only if you bid for it, don't use my credits or my name. It might not flag the Jurors then. But don't put too much into it. It's an escort quest, no one is going to be head over heels for it.”

“Oh,” she said and his face fell.

“You already bid, didn't you?”

“I'm hungry?” She tried to distract him, and he rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay, I'm getting up. I'll meet you in the cafeteria, all right?”

“Mm,” she said, looking down at her tablet. She swiped a few things. “Oh, they accepted it.”

“Awesome,” he groaned. “Please go to the cafeteria.”

“Yes, Maestro,” she said. He glanced at her in the semi-darkness.

“Sienna, your port.”

“Oops.” She pulled down her sleeve, where she had a permanent IV port. It was likely no one would question her if they saw it. since she had been sick enough to need it. But to be thriving now and still have it was questionable at best, and Nathaniel didn't want any suspicions that she had lost her magic.

Once she was gone, he sank back into the pillows, closing his eyes for a moment.

Despite the chaos, he was happy in life right now. And the idea of spending an extended period of time with Eliza tickled his heart in a way he had almost forgotten.

He rolled over, glancing at the clock, and groaned. It wasn't even six a.m. yet.

It's 5:58, Maestro, he reached out through the telepathic bond for Desmond. Really?

You know, Nathaniel, all the other Maestros are on their own with their Tiros. Five a.m. or five p.m. doesn't matter if the Tiros need them. You should practice that.

I don't know, I really like this system. Nathaniel heaved himself up at last. Breakfast?

Not now, Desmond said, dismissive, and Nathaniel was left puzzled as he headed to the shower. Desmond had been off lately, spending more and more time by himself. He hadn't been skimping on his duties, but he certainly hadn't been going the extra mile. He had been spending much time in mediation, which made Nathaniel worry.

Their fateful quest years ago had brought Desmond face to face with his former Tiro, Reynolds, who had chosen to leave the Order and work for the Acheronian side of magic, a shunned, dark form that lea only to evil. Reynolds currently under arrest in the dungeons below them, but Nathaniel knew that would end very soon. The Jurors had spent the past two years questioning him, learning about his magic, and holding him accountable for the crimes he had committed one way or another, it would soon be over.

Joining Sienna in the cafeteria, the hustle and bustle of the morning crowd woke him more than the shower. Technically, Desmond was on shift right now, but Nathaniel didn't mind so much, when food was involved.

“You are teaching today?” Sienna asked, picking at her plate. She couldn't ingest anything that wasn't packed full of chemicals, and so food was often an issue for her. The cafeteria was reasonably well stocked, thought, so Nathaniel wasn't too concerned when they were here.

“I am,” he said, as they dug in. “Combat in flight.”

“Oh.” Her eyes lit up. “I could take that next year.”

“You could,” he said. “But I thought you had decided to focus more on language and translation.”

She shrugged. “Doesn't mean I can't learn,” she said, and then paused “Wait, can I still take your courses if you are my Maestro?”

“Yes, you can take mine,” he said. “There's no hard and fast rule against it. If I'm allowed to train you, I'm allowed to mark your papers.”

“I could tell everyone your trade secrets,” she teased him. “Everyone would pass the course.”

“You think that, do you?” he teased her right back. “Or everyone would fail. I've thought about teaching a joint course with Christa, for an advanced option.”

Sienna's eyes lit up. Christa was Desmond's Tiro before Nathaniel. They had only been together a year and a bit. Christa's Maestro had died and Desmond was reeling from the loss of Reynolds They had brought hope to each other. Christa was one of the greatest pilots in the Order right now, finding a life after the death of her former Maestro. She was famous with witches, and there was no one who could rival her, although Nathaniel often tried. Sienna admired her, and went starry eyed every time she saw her.

“That would be wonderful,” Sienna replied. “But only a few would be good enough to take it. Devon could have.”

“Sienna…” Nathaniel probed. “Do you still think of him often?” Since they had denied her magic, they had not been able to share a bond, which meant Nathaniel was out of the loop with her thoughts.

Sienna shrugged one bony shoulder. “Sometimes,” she said. “We talk.”

“You talk to him?” Nathaniel said in shock. “How often?”

She blushed. “It doesn't matter, does it? He's off having an adventure.”

“How is he doing?” Nathaniel did not want her to think that he was scolding her. After all, he and Desmond both had romantic interests. It was a grey area for all of them.

“His health is… better…” Sienna said, puzzled. “We were wondering if when I resurrected him… I cured him. It's a slow cure, but he's noticing a difference.”

“That is interesting,” Nathaniel said, drumming his fingers on the table. “I wish we could look into that further.”

“We could,” she suggested but he shook his head.

“No. Not at the risk of your own health. We are just lucky that nothing has come through the portal you opened with Devon. For now, don't worry about it. Finish eating, and then we should both get to class.”

“Mm,” she said, pushing her plate away. “I'm done.”

“Sometimes,” he said, taking her plate with half-annoyance and half-fondness. “I look at you and think you've changed so much. And then you do something like this, and I realize nothing has changed. Go ahead, but make sure you eat lunch with Desmond.”

“Bah,” she said, but picked up her rut sack all the same. Nathaniel shook his head as he watched her go, and then turned on his tablet. He had been waiting for the opportunity since she had woken him up.

Eliza, he typed into the message app, seeing that she was online. I'm your escort

I know, came the quick reply. I asked Sienna to arrange it.

You sneaky devil. He grinned as he typed back. Pick up here?

No, come to Jeffro, she typed back. I've gained control of three outer rim planets, so I need to have it negotiated properly. And as you can assume, there are some people who are angry about it.

Don't worry, your highness. My team is a united front and will protect you.

She sent him a wink and he laughed, closing the tablet. This wasn't turning out to be such a bad day after all, despite the five fifty-eight a.m. wake-up call.

Chapter 2

Desmond and Mariah were in meditation in the outside garden, having not said a word to each other for nearly an hour. It was one of his favourite ways to spend quality time with her – locked in the magic, feeling nothing else but her presence and the strong life force that beat around them. Some witches didn't meditate, although he didn't know how. Nathaniel had never taken to the practice, often unable to quiet his mind, and Desmond was baffled by his talent despite his busy thoughts. Mediation was the only way to centre himself, he found. That, and be alongside Mariah.

“You are troubled,” she said, quietly, unable to keep it from him any longer. She couldn't quite read his mind, but she could feel the dark cloud over his head like impending rain. He sighed, opening his eyes.

“Yes,” he said. “But I trust in the magic that the answer will come to me soon.”

“Is it Sienna?” Mariah asked, knowing that it was. He had been troubled over her situation for the better part of six months, seeming foggy whenever he looked for a future for her. He sighed.

“I feel like I'm failing her, Mariah.”

“You are not,” Mariah spoke quickly. “Without you, she would not be here at all, and she would certainly not be as healthy. You and Nathaniel saved her from almost certain death, and allowed her to thrive.”

“Yes, she thrives,” Desmond said. “Because we block her magic. But there is no future for her in the witches, and both you and I know that. The tests need magic, so where do we go from here?”

Mariah remained quiet for a long time. “What are you going to do?”

Desmond sighed. “I don't know,” he said, and then changed his mind. “That's not true. I do know, but I don't know if I have the strength to do it.”

She put a hand on his arm, giving him strength just from her touch.

“If Nature intends it, you will follow the path you seek,” she said. “And it will not be as difficult as you feel it is.”

“Maybe,” he replied. “It's unprecedented, though.”

“Your entire life with Sienna has been unprecedented,” Mariah pointed out. Desmond let out a deep breath, not realizing he had been holding it.

“I just don't know where to go from here, Mariah. There is no future, and continuing to train her is a waste to you, waiting for me, to the magic, to the resources. She is smart, and she is strong, and she could have a path outside of this Order if she only thought it was an option. But as long as Nathaniel and I continue to stand by her, protect her, keep her under our wing, she will not see what greatness she can achieve.”

“And if you leave her?” Mariah answer. “She is attached to you, Desmond, she will crumple if she is alone.”

“Possibly,” Desmond said. “For a moment. But then she will rise to the occasion, as she always does.”

“Nathaniel will not leave her,” Mariah said. “He is devoted, he will train her for a half a hundred years if that's what it takes.”

Desmond sighed. “But that is their relationship,” he said. “I cannot interfere with that. I can only do what I think is best for her and I.”

“On this quest?” Mariah asked, and he squeezed her hand.

“I don't know.” he said. “I don't know if the time is right now, or a few months down the road. But it is becoming clearer that is the path we must take. She will hate me for it, but she will be all right.”

“I don't know if she'll hate you,” Mariah said, after a moment. “Hate is not an emotion she has. Fear, sadness, but not hate. You have bred that out of her. She would make a good witch.”

“She is a good witch,” Desmond said. “Just…magicless” He patted her hand, and pulled her gently up, watching the time. “Nathaniel is in my head. He wants to leave for Jeffro soon, and you know what Nathaniel gets like when he wants to see Eliza. It's hopeless, even if we are early by months. But I'll be in contact with you.”

“If Sienna wants to talk,” Mariah said. “I'm here for her. Although she might direct her anger toward me, blame me.”

“I don't think so,” Desmond replied. “She encourages our relationship, as much as she shouldn't. She thinks that as soon as she passes the tests, I'm going to retire and run off with you.”

Mariah smiled. “Well, that's true, isn't it?”

“Is it now?” He desperately wanted to kiss her, but he resisted. They had been better about keeping their relationship under wraps since they were put on suspension. Desmond wanted to leave the Order on his own terms, and that meant being more careful about how much love he bestowed on Mariah. But he did love her, more than anything. Instead of kissing her, he took her arm, pretending she needed more assistance than she did to get back inside.

They were only four steps inside, when they were bombarded by Nathaniel, straight out of the class he had taught.

“We should just go now,” he said. “In case Eliza needs to brief us, it's a long escort And also…”

“Nathaniel,” Desmond put up his hand. “I don't need to hear your excuses. Can I have an hour to pack, at least?”

“You can,” Nathaniel answered. “Where's Sienna?”

Desmond's brow furrowed. “You don't know?”

“It's daytime, Desmond, that's your job,” Nathaniel reminded him. “I thought she would be with you.”

It was much harder to keep track of her without the bond that they were used to having. But what surprised Nathaniel more than forgetting her schedule was how often Desmond had been doing this. His Maestro had been shifting responsibility more often or letting her have far more freedom than they had agreed on. Nathaniel didn't like Sienna anywhere that people didn't know exactly what was wrong with her and how they could help if she fell ill. As she got older and took the more advanced classes, it was easier, for the classes were smaller and the teachers had known her half her life. Still, he assumed Desmond knew exactly where she saw when the sun was up.

“I'm sure she's fine,” Desmond answered. “Does she know that we are going so soon?”

“I'm sure she suspects,” Nathaniel answered.

“Well, why don't you find her,” Desmond said. “I'll take Mariah to the class she is teaching, and then I'll meet you in the hanger? I assume you have already secured a ship?”

“Yes, of course.” Nathaniel gave him a funny look. “Is everything all right, Maestro? You seem troubled.”

“I'll see you there,” Desmond repeated, leaving Nathaniel a bit confused. Still, Desmond got like this sometimes, and Nathaniel knew it was nothing to worry about. Desmond had far more experience riding the ebbs and flows of magic than he did, and it always worked out.

Reaching a tablet console in the academic hall, Nathaniel logged in to find Sienna's schedule, scrolling to the correct day.

His Tiro was in advanced linguistics, which was her favorite course. It was due to end in ten minutes, and he moved through the hallways, trying to stay quiet as the classes around him continued his progress. It seemed a lifetime ago that he was a Tiro, sitting in those seats. But at the same time, he felt like it was just a moment ago. He certainly didn't feel like a Maestro most days, and still turned to Desmond for advice, navigating the world by the skin of his teeth.

He knew part of that uncertainty came from the life he had chosen for himself. He had taken the tests so late because he wasn't sure if he was ready. And then, unlike other young Maestros, he didn't take solo missions as expected. Some of his colleagues left for years on solo missions, finding who they were as witches before coming back to teach. But Nathaniel had never left Desmond's side, and now he was teaching Sienna. It didn't fill him with the greatest confidence, although he faked it relativity well.

“Well, hello there, stranger,” came a voice and he looked up in surprise. Laura was standing there, a grin on her face. Laura was Devon's former Maestro, and she always sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. Beautiful, tall and lean, he and Laura had found solace in each other for a time, getting to know each other on uncomfortable med bay chairs, while their Tiros wasted away on medication. Now that Devon was off world, and Sienna was healthier, they didn't see each other much. It surprised him that Laura had a young Tiro in tow, dressed in training robes. “Long time no see.”

“Is this yours?” Nathaniel asked, in surprise. She and Devon had been so close that he thought his departure would scar her forever. But Laura seemed to be at peace with her Tiro's choice to live the rest of his life on his terms. She had never seemed scarred like Nathaniel got, the sicker Devon got. To be at peace with such a fate always amazed him. And now, to take another one soon after, to form a bond, that seemed impossible to him.

“Yes, this is Rago,” Laura said, putting a hand on the youngster, a purple alien with huge green eyes that seemed up at Nathaniel. “Rago, this is my old friend, Nathaniel.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Rago said, bowing and Nathaniel smiled, tightly.

“That was fast, Laura.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Nathaniel didn't particularly want to start a fight in the middle of the hallway, with Tiros all around. “Just that...if I was separated from Sienna, somehow, I don't think I'd take another Tiro so fast.”

Laura's eyes flashed. “If you are separated from Sienna, your next Tiro will not be your choice. That's the deal you made with the Jurors, isn't it, so your potential isn't…”

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow haughtily “What?” he asked, and Laura shook her head.

“Nothing. We should go. It was nice to see you.”

“No, say it,” Nathaniel challenged her. “You think you're so high and mighty because Devon's departure doesn't bother you? Because he's somewhere wasting away without you, and you're here doing your duty to the magic?”

Laura gritted her teeth. “It is with Devon's blessing that I take another, if you remember. One day, Nathaniel, you will grow up and realize what doing your duty means. If it means serving the magic in a way that tears your heart apart, then you do it, for the good of the Order.”

She left him standing there, stunned, as the bell rang. Nathaniel could only gape after her. How had they once gotten a long so well? How had she turned into this person?

A sinking feeling came into the pit of his stomach as he considered another possibility. What if she was right?

“Maestro?” Sienna exited the classroom, confused to find him there. He shook his head, trying to smile.

She wasn't right. There was no way she could be.

“Is all well?” Sienna asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Just that we should go to Jeffro today, if you'd like.”

“Yes, please.” Sienna's eyes lit up. “Can I just get my homework for the next bit?”

“Of course,” he said and then her brow furrowed.

“Where's Desmond?” she asked. “It's daytime, normally he would…”

“He's just taking care of a few things,” Nathaniel said. “Don't worry about it.”

But as she headed down the hall to see her other teachers, he watched her go with concern. He knew Desmond was hiding something, but he didn't know what. He just hoped that whatever it was, it wouldn't interfere with the upcoming quest.

Chapter 3

“Are you ready?” Nathaniel asked her, and she nodded. “1-2-3.”

She sprung into action, moving across the ship and up into his arms, where his arms supported her as she pushed into a brief, but perfect handstand. She had taken on much more physical training since they had blocked her magic, enabling her to put to use what she had learned over the years by watching classes she was too ill to participate in.

Neither of them mentioned that the next step for a witch of her experience would be to levitate. Instead, she held her position a moment or two, and then slowly lowered down until she was on her feet again.

“Not terrible,” he said, rotating his shoulders. “But are you afraid to flip through?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I only just started doing that.”

“You just use the same momentum,” he said. “And if you're off-balance, you…” he stopped himself, realizing what he was saying.

“You what?” she replied. “You use magic?”

“Sienna,” he lowered his voice.

“No, it's all right,” she replied, as she glanced at the clock. They had been in the air for only two hours, but it felt like forever. “It's true, isn't it?” She ran a hand through her hair. “And I have to get used to it.”

“It won't be forever,” he reassured her. “We'll find a way. We'll figure it out.”

“But if you don't?” she asked, and he met her gaze.

“We will,” he said. Her eyes flickered away from him, and he felt Desmond enter the room, the ship finally set on course. Nathaniel used to hate autopilot because he loved flying. In the first few years with Sienna, he rarely took a chance with it, knowing it wasn't as fast as a magical reaction. But these days, he couldn't sit behind a console for twelve hours. The idea that he wasn't so young anymore only slightly bothered him. “Maestro,” Nathaniel turned, trying to act as if all was well. “All set?”

“Yes,” Desmond said, glancing at the clock. “Sienna, aren't you to attend a lecture by conference now?”

“Oh.” She paused. “I thought….

“It's important that you take classes as long as you can, and miss as little as possible,” Desmond said. “We may be on a quest right now, but we aren't focused on the clients, and so you should use that to your advantage.”

“But—” She knew this was what was supposed to happen, but they weren't strict on it, by any means. At least, not until recently. Desmond had been so pushy of late, making sure she was up to date on classes.

“Please, Sienna.”

Nathaniel quirked an eyebrow.

“Maestro, don't you think she should focus on training here, with me? Or the briefing notes for the quest?”

“Not right now,” Desmond replied, and his word was law. She bowed her head, and left the room, leaving Nathaniel perplexed.

“What was that about?”

“Exactly as I said,” Desmond replied. “She should not be missing classes if she doesn't have to. One never knows wen that information is going to come in handy.”

“Not that I disagree,” Nathaniel answered. “But…”

“Who knows if quest experience will even come in handy for her?” Desmond asked and Nathaniel’s blood ran cold.

“Maestro, what are you saying?”

“Nothing,” Desmond said, but Nathaniel knew him better than that.

“You don't see her future anymore.”

“I do see her future,” Desmond answered. “But I don't know if it's with the witches. In any case, Nathaniel, this is not a matter for us to discuss currently. We are headed on a quest. We will be working hard. And she will be working as a witch, no matter what I feel at the moment.”

“Desmond, we're going to find a way,” Nathaniel answered. “Don't talk like this. Don't give up. You haven't been the same since Reynolds reappeared.”

Desmond's head spun around and he stared his former Tiro down.

“No. This has nothing to do with Reynolds”

“I know you better than that.” Nathaniel circled him. “You're afraid of what people will say. The great warrior Desmond, with one Tiro gone, another far too old to have been training, and a third that loses her magic.”

“Nathaniel, I have never cared what people think,” Desmond answered. “I'm just trying to get us both to be realistic about the situation.”

“To what end?” Nathaniel asked, but Desmond had no answer to that. Nathaniel backed down, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I think I'll go watch her lecture with her.”

“Nathaniel,” Desmond called after him, but he was already gone.

The older witch sighed, shaking his head as he closed his eyes. He had been in difficult situations before, but this was by far one of the worst. This limbo was eating away at his soul, and he could get no answer, no matter how hard or long he lost himself in the magic.

He didn't see Sienna until she joined him in the cockpit in the last half hour of the flight, tucking her thin legs under her. She had changed into the robes that the witches wore when they were on a quest, earth green for Tiros, and dark brown for the Maestros. Her black leggings and boots only made her seem more fragile as her hair fell in her face. She said nothing, staring into the blackness and Desmond smiled.

“I'm not angry at you, little one. I don't know why you think that.”

“How did you know I was thinking that?” she asked, turning to him in shock. “We aren't bonded anymore.”

He chuckled. “I don't need magic to read you, Sienna. You used to do that when you were a child, slink in and sit quietly until things were no longer tense. It's a skill you have, defusing any situation with simple silence. But in this case, there is nothing to defuse.”

“You've seemed angry at me these past few days,” she answered and he shook his head.

“I'm not angry,” he repeated. “You need not worry. Here,” he took his hands off the wheel, “you can land.”

“From here?” she asked, indicating her co-pilot position. He nodded, shifting the control to her. Biting her lip, Sienna focused on the console for a moment, learning the buttons. Then, she moved over a few buttons, keying in a landing sequence.

It popped up on Desmond's screen, and he only had to glance at it to know it was right. Since she had learned piloting from Christa, she had taken to it amazingly well, picking up the procedures of nearly any craft. It was one of many options he thought she could make a career of without magic.

Without even being a witch.

The thought thundered through him so strongly that he felt chills going down his spine. He made sure to glance out the window, to hide his reaction. Normally, his thoughts were concealed. And although he had been circling around this one for quite some time, it seemed earth-shattering to think those exact words.

“Maestro,” Sienna caught his attention and he turned back, pretending to have gained a great deal of interest in the clouds. “Eliza is hailing us. Should I answer?”

“Of course,” he replied. “You always answer a hail from a planet that you are legally allowed to enter.”

Her fingers hovered over the button.

“And if we aren't?”

“Then you turn on your shield,” he said and she laughed as she answered.

“Hello,” Eliza's smooth voice came through. “You made good time.”

“Nathaniel was eager to leave right away,” Sienna said in Jeffroian, a cheeky grin on her face. Desmond wasn't versed in Jeffroian, their native tongue, but he knew her expression well enough to scold her.

“Sienna,” he warned and she sat up a bit straighter.

“Can we do the back hanger?” she asked Eliza, who paused.

“Come around the front,” she said at last. “We will be leaving right away.”

“Leaving right away?” Desmond said in shock. “I was under the understanding that you had a few days before you wanted to leave, your highness.”

“That was twelve hours ago, Desmond,” Eliza said. “Things have changed.”

“I can't keep up with you, Eliza,” Desmond answered. He had known her since she was Sienna's age, and although she and Nathaniel were both strong adults, they would always remain flirting teenagers to him. “Is there an emergency?”

“I just want to get to the negotiations,” she said. “Is it a problem?”

“No,” Desmond answered. “It's a good ship. We should be fine with a quick maintenance run.”

“There's no time,” she said. “Can you make it or not? Where's Nathaniel?”

“Probably asleep,” Desmond answered. “You can talk to him when we land.”

“I won't talk to him, I will be telling him,” Eliza answered.

“Yes, your highness.” Desmond rolled his eyes. “Get your team to clear us for landing, and as soon as the permissions are locked, we will bring it down.”

“See you soon,” Eliza disconnected the call, and Desmond glanced to Sienna.

“What do you think of that?”

“I think…” Sienna paused. “That something has happened that she hasn't told us. Eliza gets defensive in the face of adversity There's a reason that she needs to get to the negotiations faster, and it isn't just impatience.”

“Good girl,” Desmond answered. “I feel the same, but she may not be comfortable speaking about it over the transmission. Go and get Nathaniel, but tell him not to pack.”

“He was so looking forward to spending time on Jeffro, too.” Sienna unfolded herself from the chair.

“Unfortunately,” Desmond answered. “We are witches who have chosen a path that doesn't allow for much of that.”

Sienna glanced at him, his words potent. It was a choice, and someone could choose differently.

She could choose differently, possibly.

She shook the feeling of a stronger meaning from her head as she walked to the bunks. Desmond was simply laying out the truth, she told herself, nothing more. It was a choice, and she had seen her Maestros skirt around that rule more than once. The last time they had gotten caught, of course, Desmond had gotten them exiled. She knew the consequences

She also knew how happy being with Devon had made her last time, and how happy he was with the choice he made.

Being a witch was nothing more than a series of choices, but for her, there was no other path. She had only dreamed of being a witch before her Maestros, and despite her difficulties, she wasn't going to let them down now.

“Mae---” she started as she walked into the bunks, but Nathaniel was already awake, standing at the control panel in the bunk room. “What are you doing?”

“Do you feel warm?” he asked and she paused.

“Now that you mention it. Why?”

“We're just a little bit overheated,” he said. “The engine will need a cool down. I suspect whoever had this ship last did not clean it properly”

“Eliza called,” Sienna replied. “She basically wants to jump aboard and go.”

Nathaniel growled.

“Of course, she does,” he answered, rolling his eyes.

“Can we do that?”

“Not unless she is insisting,” he said, and Sienna raised an eyebrow.

“She is.”

“Right,” Nathaniel sighed. “Then right away it shall be.”

Chapter 4

Nathaniel was always overjoyed to see Eliza, no matter the situation. He flipped between wishing they could be together all the time, and loving the life that they had. They had been lucky enough to experience both situations, and each had their pros and cons. Currently, he couldn't keep the smile off his face as she approached with her team, her long blond hair in twists and her dress flowing in the slight breeze. She was wearing jewels and a crown, which really wasn't practical for low-maintenance travel. But knowing her, she probably had five outfit changes somewhere.

“Your highness,” Nathaniel said, with the dip he used for their public personas. Her people knew him, and they knew him well. He had been around for years, always loyal to the Queen, always working on her behalf.

“Maestros,” she said, and he realized she looked tense. “I am eager to get started on our journey.”

“Erm—” Nathaniel looked to Desmond, who certainly wasn't going to help him in this situation. “Our engine is a bit hot. It's best if we could wait, unless leaving is absolutely crucial.”

“It's crucial,” Eliza said, and Nathaniel knew she wouldn't lie to him. There was more going on than met the eye, and he simply had to make it work.

“Of course,” he said. “You can brief us on board.”

“Thank you,” Eliza said and motioned for her team to start loading the things that were needed.

“Any ideas?” Nathaniel asked Sienna, regarding the engine. She glanced to him, not quite used to this. The older she got, the more they asked questions like this, trying to teach even in the smallest moments.

She tried to remember the lesson on this that Christa had taught, but her mind was coming up blank.

“Ice?” she said at last, and Nathaniel chuckled.

“While it would work on paper, it would take an amount of ice that we don't have access to. Think about cooling the ship from inside.”

“Oh,” she said. “We could use thermodynamics and divert into the engine room valves.”

“Exactly,” he replied. It was Desmond's turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Will that work?” he asked. Nathaniel shrugged.

“It's better than nothing,” he answered. “Unless you are willing to argue with Eliza.”

“That, my former Tiro, is your job,” Desmond said. “I am eager to hear what her rush is.”

“I, as well,” Nathaniel answered, as he watched the last of her bags be loaded. As always, Eliza travelled with a small team, ready to spring into action and give their own lives if she so much as lifted a finger. She had servants to dress her, servants to cook her food, body guards to defend her. The witches could defend her, of course, but Eliza took no chances. “Is she moving in?”

“Maybe she has plans for her and you,” Sienna meant is as a joke, but Desmond did not take it as such.

“Maybe I should remind you two how long we were in exile for my behavior with Mariah,” he said. “Do not repeat my mistake.”

“Unless someone on the ship has a wagging tongue, I think we will be all right,” Nathaniel replied and Desmond sighed. Nathaniel was no longer his Tiro, but sometimes, he wondered if he wouldn't do with a bit more schooling.

“That's it,” Sienna said as she watched what she was sure was the last of Eliza's things be loaded on. “We're ready.”

“Always nice to visit Jeffro,” Nathaniel said, as they turned to re board their ship. “Albeit briefly.”

“So briefly I'm not sure I actually breathed any Jeffro air,” Sienna said, and he chuckled.

Desmond watched them trade jokes as they walked onto the ship, leaving him to follow on his own. They got on so well, as they almost always had. The first few years had been rough, with Nathaniel coming to terms with the fact that he was not going to have a warrior Tiro to continue his legacy. But as soon as he accepted that, it was as if they were made for each other. They were often lost in their own, even with the bond gone. They were always together, even when they didn't have to be. Desmond felt that the last few years, he had lost his connection with her, which was maybe to be expected.

He had to find out, though, if it was gone forever, before he made his choice.

Once the departure sequence was engaged, and they were well on their way into deep space, Nathaniel set the ship on autopilot and got up, finding Eliza with Desmond and Sienna in the mess hall. They tried to keep a meal schedule that matched the time zone they were in, which was often complicated and meant eating when no one wanted to. Sienna was evidence of this, poking at a bag of vacuum sealed rations without actually taking a single piece.

“Eat half of that and I'll make you ice cream,” Nathaniel said, sitting down beside her. It wasn't really ice cream, the way he flash froze a fake milk ration and then half melted it, but it was as close as she could get. Anything natural reacted to her body, and her full diet of chemicals was saving her life.

“Mm,” Sienna said, not quite interested. “I think we have other things to discuss.”

“We do, but ice cream trumps all,” Nathaniel answered. “Unless her highness wants to explain the rush in negotiations.”

“I've received intelligence that they have the inner workings of our palace, and a launch code engaged for a thermonuclear attack,” Eliza replied. “We've been at odds for so long, I need to smooth this over now.”

“What?” Nathaniel's jaw fell open. “Why? What have you done to them?”

“We may have killed some of their hostages,” Eliza said and Nathaniel put his face in his hands.

“Eliza…”

“I'll negotiate my country’s safety on my own terms, thank you,” she said. “But you suddenly see the urgency to go now.”

“I see the urgency to go last week at this rate,” Nathaniel answered. “And this is the first stop of what I suspect is many negotiations of talking down thermonuclear threats?”

“Jeffro is a powerhouse,” Eliza said. “The whole galaxy knows it.”

“Because the whole galaxy knows Jeffro could blow it into oblivion,” Nathaniel pointed out.

Desmond cleared his throat.

“With all due respect, your highness, you should have given us this information before we departed.”

“Why?” she asked. “So that your entire organization could know Jeffro's business? I do not need to provide that information when I book a team.”

“You do not,” Desmond said. “We are bound by confidentiality, of course. But the type of team might have made a difference. We are not a combat team.”

Sienna looked at the table then, the words hitting her a bit hard. No, they were not a combat team, although she wished they were. Her Maestros used to be the best combat team in the Order, but that was before her.

“I don't need a combat team,” Eliza said. “I need negotiations, translation and diplomacy, which are the skills you have between you.”

“A situation like that could turn hostile quickly,” Desmond pointed out.

“It won't,” Eliza said, her eyes hard. “And if it does, have you wiped your combat experience from your mind?”

Sienna cleared her throat.

“It's because of me, Eliza. They couldn't fight and keep me safe.”

Eliza's gaze fell on Sienna and her heart softened. The girl seemed so saddened by this, her voice timid. Eliza knew that they were oath sworn to protect their Tiro first, ensuring the future of their order. But the words Sienna said made her realize that the girl felt guilty about it, hopeless.

“We will keep you safe,” Eliza said. “Don't you worry, little one.”

It was the same thing that Nathaniel called her, and Sienna met her eyes at that, the words resonating. This was the only family that she had ever known, the only mother figure she had, aside from Mariah.

“Are you thinking of back up?” Nathaniel looked to Desmond. “I am confident in our skills, but the numbers…”

“No back up,” Eliza said. “The more people involved in this, the messier it is going to get. I don't want anyone else involved.”

“Whoever we call in can be trusted to be confidential,” Nathaniel said. “Sybil and Kierry, you remember them? They are experts in undercover, in…”

“No back up.” Eliza rose. “There will be no need. Everything will go smoothly.”

Nathaniel sighed, glancing at Desmond. Although the younger was a Maestro in his own right, Desmond had seniority

“Check Sybil and Kierry's availability,” Desmond said. “But don't reach out to them. It's just good to know who is available.”

“It won't be necessary,” Eliza said, done with the conversation as she turned on her heel. “You'll see.”

“Eliza...” Nathaniel rose, as well. “I'll talk to her.”

“By all means,” Desmond said, and Sienna half-stood, as well. “No.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “You haven't even started eating.”

“But…” she said, so used to following Nathaniel whenever there was something to be done.

“Eat,” they both said at the same time, and she sighed, sitting.

She fell into silence with Desmond at her side, munching at a piece or two before speaking again. “Kierry will take the tests next month,” she said at last, and Desmond cocked his head.

“Really? Already?”

“Not already,” Sienna answered. “It's normal. If Devon was still here, he would have already taken them.”

“Do you still think about Devon?” Desmond asked, and she blushed.

“Sometimes,” she replied, putting another ration piece in her mouth to avoid answering any more on the topic. She chewed before speaking again. “If Kierry can take the tests now, I might have a shot.”

He sighed at that.

“Sienna....”

“We are almost the same age,” Sienna said. “And I've been training for longer than Kierry. I know my magic is blocked but there are other areas.”

“There are other areas,” Desmond answered her. “But you are not ready.”

The harsh reality hit her and she stopped eating.

“Will you tell me when I am ready?”

“It is a Maestro's responsibility to determine if a Tiro is ready for the tests,” Desmond answered. Her language skills were just weak enough to miss what he was actually saying. Desmond hated that he knew what words to use to confuse her, but he needed to in this moment.

“So you will decide together?” she asked.

“Nathaniel and I will talk,” Desmond assured her. “Please finish eating. You didn't eat anything this morning.”

“The pills make me feel…” She paused before the word. “Full.”

“That's because they are full of chemicals,” he said. “But they have no nutritional value. Remember that you have to be strong, Sienna, at all times. Nathaniel and I may not be here to protect you forever.”

“Why, where are you going?” she asked, and for that, he had no good answer.

“Finish eating,” he said, sternly, and she obeyed.

She fell into silence as she did, and he found the opportunity to lose himself into his thoughts. He used to sit with her like this years ago, when she was a child, and she would eat next to nothing. Her magic had been out of control then, and they had encouraged her to not to use it at all, until they figured out the solution.

The first time he sat with her like this, he felt Mariah's thoughts invade his head, questioning his choice. He wasn't supposed to take another Tiro, he was supposed to retire and be with her. But he had promised her just one more, if she would just a wait a bit longer. Although he had been drawn to Sienna, no one expected her to survive as long as she did.

Nothing had changed since that moment. She still couldn't use magic. She still didn't eat properly. She was no closer to the tests than she had been back then. It wasn't for lack of trying or lack of learning, of course. She was good at so many things. But being certified at a full witch was a different matter entirely, and it was a matter that she had not been born to fulfill.

Mariah was still waiting, still unsure, still questioning, even if she was supportive.

They were stagnant, stuck between a rock and a hard place.

And Desmond knew they had to move forward, one way or another.

Chapter 5

Sienna was sitting in her bunk, working on homework, when she heard the alarm. She had just gotten comfortable, hooked up to an IV that administered the Cinemron. Currently, she had untangled the wires and was enjoying full mobility as she scribbled on her tablet.

She looked up at once, to see the control panel at the door flashing bright red. The alarm wasn't piercing yet. It was in every room rather than overpowering the whole ship. However, she knew this was a precursor to something terrible happening.

She leapt off the bunk, wincing at the height as she moved toward the panel. The IV ripped out of her arm, leaving a bleeding gash. She covered the wound with her hand, her face contorting in shock as she rushed toward the panel. To her horror, the screen was flashing.

Engine at critical temperature Engine at critical temperature. Shutting down in four minutes.

She pushed the door panel open, leaving her things on the floor as she took off down the hallway. She was sure she cracked her tablet, but it didn't matter as she rushed into the cockpit.

Both Nathaniel and Desmond were already there, clearly aware of the problem by the panicked look on their faces.

“Maestro…” she started, and Nathaniel only glanced at her a moment.

“Just stay there,” he said. “I might need you in a moment.”

“Override code failed.” The ships computer felt the need to chime in at that moment and Nathaniel slammed the console in frustration. He swore, and Desmond took that as his cue to dial in a communications code.

“Christa isn't going to know it,” Nathaniel snapped at Desmond.

“She may not know it for this particular model, but she may have an idea, and we're about to lose power,” Desmond answered, trying to reach out as far as his bond would go for his former Tiro.

“What in Creator name is happening?” Eliza burst into the control room, looking annoyed.

“We're over-heating, your highness,” Nathaniel snapped at her. “Exactly what I tried to tell you would happen.”

“Well, fix it,” Eliza answered, and Nathaniel growled at her.

“We're trying.”

“Hi,” Christa's voice came through the speakers loud and clear.

“Christa, please tell me you can override an error code 543J,” Nathaniel said. “We're in a Koli u74.”

“543J?” Christa asked in shock. She was the best pilot in the galaxy. If anyone had the skills, it was her. “Take her down and now.”

“What?” Nathaniel demanded.

“You can't override that.” Christa's panic was only slightly apparent “You need to get everyone on that ship into the control room, and fast. That's going to be the last area to shut down the oxygen.”

“Sienna.” Nathaniel spun around. “Go, now!”

Desmond reached up, hitting the ship wide PA. He failed once to get it working, and Sienna noticed before she ran that his hands were shaking. Her Maestros were nervous, and that added to her fear.

She ran down the hall, trying to remember where she had last seen people. Her hand was soaked in blood, feeling hot and sticky underneath her palm. She had ripped the vein, and she was going to be in danger of bleeding out if she didn't fix it.

“All personnel to the pilot's cockpit, now. Repeat, all personnel to the pilot's cockpit, now,” Desmond's voice came over the PA. He sounded calm, but inside the cockpit, a second alarm was starting to sound.

“You should have hard warnings before this,” Christa said.

“We did,” Nathaniel said, through gritted teeth, “I ignored them.”

“Don't you blame this on me,” Eliza barked. “If the ship wasn't safe to fly, you should have said.”

“Did I say that?” Nathaniel asked her.

“Hey,” Christa's voice came back through. “I'm going to lock onto your ship and see if I can find the nearest planet. But you need to descend, Nathaniel, and now.”

“Descend with nowhere to land?”

“You're going to lose oxygen,” she reminded him. “You need to have the best chance of entering breathable atmosphere as soon as possible, and you'll do that by flying low.”

“Can't I override the shutdown?” he asked. “I know that you can do it on other models.”

“You can,” Christa said. “And it will lead to combustion, so don't even try. Creator, your engine is hot!” She had received their stats and Desmond could hear her fingers on the keys wherever she was, frantically searching. “Well, this is good. You're near Arborath.”

“Can you key us clearance for landing?” Nathaniel asked, frantically trying to keep the ship under control as it started to tremble.

“No need,” Christa said. “Arborath is not controlled by the Union. It's a snow planet, so you'll cool down right away, if you can get there fast enough. Stand by.”

“It's not a Union planet?” Desmond asked. “What is it?”

“It's…” Christa's wince could be heard in her voice. “Just be on your guard It's one of those misfit planets. But if you blow your engine, you should be able to pick up a new one around there.”

Nathaniel glanced to Desmond, but said nothing. They had been on those planets before, and it was anything but safe.

“Key it in,” Nathaniel said, knowing they were taking a huge risk. In addition to a fragile Tiro, they had the Queen of Jeffro aboard, and enough jewels to fund a planet for six months, it seemed. Planets like Arborath could smell money from miles away.

Sienna felt like she couldn't catch her breath as she motioned for the bewildered guards to make their way toward the front of the ship. She could feel her hand grow slippery and her head was fuzzy. It probably didn't help that her heart rate was over accelerating as she rushed from door to door.

“What's happening?” one of the frightened servants asked. “Are we going to die?”

“Not if my Maestros can help it,” she replied, pointing toward the front. She was keeping count, and she was pretty sure that was it.

Turning on her heel, she moved back to the front. The doors were open, and Eliza was frantically counting, naming names and making sure all were accounted for.

“There's 1 more,” Eliza said. “Jonah. Where is Jonah?”

“He was below, your highness,” said one of her other bodyguards, looking around. “Watching the view.”

“Where?” Sienna asked, feeling woozy.

“I'll go,” said the guard but she put her hand out toward him.

“No,” she said. “I'll go.”

“You're bleeding,” he said and Nathaniel's head whipped around.

“Sienna,” he said, in alarm.

“I—” she said, and then the alarm pierced their ears.

“There's no time,” Nathaniel said, and the doors started closing. “Everyone, find a seat or sit on the floor and hold onto something. We're going down and we're going down now.”

“No!” Eliza cried, but the doors slammed shut, sealing them in.

“Sienna, come here,” Desmond put his arm out as he scooted over so that she could sit. The seats were large, and the safest place.

“Eliza,” Nathaniel cried. These were the two most precious bodies on the ship – the Queen and the future of the Order. He took his hands off the controls because there was nothing more he could do. A million miles away, Christa had locked in a landing sequence, onto snow tufts that she hoped were soft.

Desmond strapped the belt over both of them, and put his hand over her wound.

“What happened?” he asked, as the engines began to fail.

“I ripped the IV when the alarm went off,” she answered, bracing herself against him. “I had to react, there was no time to remove it.”

He said nothing to that, bending down as the lights went off. But he realized that this was her life, how she had to react in emergencies. She couldn't just spring into action. There were such limitations. It wasn't fair to her to go through this.

There was a shriek from somewhere behind her, and then a giant crash. They hit the snow with a crack, plummeting forward and bouncing. Sienna was thrown forward, and the belt dug into her. She choked, but it was only for a moment before she was thrown backwards, her head hitting the headrest. There was another crack as the wing hit a giant ice tower. Sienna saw stars and felt Desmond's weight against her. She kept her eyes closed, trying to remain loose and move with the impact.

Finally, they came to a stop. There was silence in the cockpit, aside from ragged breathing.

“Everyone all right?” Nathaniel pulled off his head set with haste, spinning around as he pulled the buckle off. Eliza sat up at once, looking dazed but alive. “Speak up.”

The bodies on the floor were alive, although some were unconscious, shifting slowly back to life. Eliza threw herself out of the seat, moving between her people with concern. She checked pulses before moving on, her blue eyes wide and frantic.

“Maestro, you're bleeding,” Nathaniel said, stumbling over to them. “Are you all right?”

“As typical in battle,” Desmond said. “Not my blood. Little one?”

“I…” Sienna's arm had clotted slightly, so now she could see the damage she had done. It was a ripped vein, but not by much. It would stop bleeding in a moment, as soon as her heart rate went down. “It's all right.”

“Let me see.” Nathaniel reached out with his hand and then winced, turning pale.

“Maestro?” Sienna sat up in horror as his face changed. One look at his wrist told her the story. “Desmond.”

Desmond leaned over her, reaching out for his former Tiro's wrist. Like when he used to get injured as a child, Nathaniel pulled back with a hiss.

“Have you broken it?” Desmond asked, calmly, trying to keep a level head.

“Yes,” Nathaniel said.

“Wonderful.” Desmond took stock of what side he was on and saw that it was Nathaniel's dominant hand. Magic was about twists of wrists, flicks of fingers, and while Nathaniel could technically do magic with the other hand, and even pull magic to other parts of his body, this was a serious impairment. He met his former Tiro's eyes. He briefly forgot that Sienna was no longer in on their bond, and conveyed a message that was meant for the three of them – keep quiet. We're dead in the water.

I know, Nathaniel's mind responded. But we'll figure it out, we always do.

Chapter 6

When they unsealed the doors, Eliza jumped.

There, on the other side, was an incredibly angry looking Jonah, his arms crossed.

“What?” Eliza asked. “How?”

“We entered atmosphere in time for me to breathe, your highness.” Her captain of the guards raised an eyebrow. “All is well.”

“Well, thank Creator for that,” Eliza said. “It looks like you fared better than the rest of it.”

“I was thinking that all the food was out here, actually,” Jonah said. “And if you couldn't get the doors unsealed, I was going to eat all of it and make you listen.”

“You prefer your guards as comedians now?” Nathaniel asked with a smile. He had met Jonah years ago and he liked him well enough, although he did have a bit of a mouth on him. But then, Nathaniel supposed, he did, as well.

“I prefer them alive,” Eliza said. “If nothing else.”

“Let's take stock of the damage,” Desmond said. “If we can't repair enough to get power, it's going to get mighty cold in here eventually.”

Nathaniel had his arm cradled to his chest, and Sienna watched him as they walked. She had stopped bleeding, and while her own arm throbbed, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling.

“You can hold a wrench?” he asked her, trying to smile as they headed into the engine room.

“Aye,” she replied. “But I won't be sure of what to do with it.”

“That I can tell you,” he replied. “Or maybe we can get Christa back on the line.”

The doors to the engine room were sealed. Nathaniel put his good hand over them, feeling for heat.

“It's going to be hot,” he said. “But I think we'll be all right. However, the power's gone. Desmond?”

“Honestly, making your elders do everything is not polite,” Desmond flicked his wrists. “Everyone stand back.”

Sienna always loved to watch her Maestros do magic. They were so smooth, so practiced. It came as naturally to them as breathing – a level she always dreamed of reaching.

Desmond moved a simple spell through his veins and then opened his palms. The doors shifted open, and steam escaped, making Sienna duck. He pushed the doors open further, and they stepped back, waiting for the air to clear. She could feel the heat, but Nathaniel was right, it wasn't unbearable.

Inside, it smelled like burning rubber and scorched pipes. She knew enough about the inner workings of a ship to look for the damage, mark in her mind what could be bypassed, and what could be replaced from other parts of the ship. There were a few things, she noted, that were irreplaceable from their supplies on board. Some of the coils were completely destroyed, and the wires had caught fire, severing some of them.

“This could have been a lot worse if the system didn't override when it did,” Nathaniel tried to look on the bright side. “But we're not going anywhere for a while.”

“We have to,” Eliza said, and he turned to her.

“My love, I would delight in saying yes. But unless we can teleport, which we can't, even at short distances, we are stuck until we get new parts.”

“What do you need?” Desmond asked.

“I can probably bypass a few things to get the heat and the basic power back up and running,” Nathaniel said. “Do you see, Sienna?”

“Yes,” she replied. “But without the coils, we won't fly.”

“It's whether they have them here that is the question,” Nathaniel answered. “They might. Planets like this have a lot of black markets and scrap yards. Ships…like us end up crashed here and they scrap them.”

“So some of us have to go,” Desmond said.

“I know what I'm looking for,” Nathaniel said, but Desmond shook his head.

“No,” he replied. “You're injured, and my bet is our med bay is not on the list of things to get back up to speed. How much power does the X-ray need, let alone the connectors?”

“I—” Nathaniel shook his head. “They aren't top of my list. We need to conserve power.”

“Right, so until then, your hand is broken and to be bound the old fashion way,” Desmond said. “It'll be easier for you to defend a sealed ship with guards around then it will be for you to keep yourself safe out in the open.”

“I can make you a list,” Nathaniel said. “Send you with images, so there will be no confusion.”

“Fine,” Desmond said. “Your highness, it's our best bet. We know there is danger just staying here. You are safest here, but our first priority is to get us into the air again.”

Eliza sighed. “I know,” she said. “Any delay is putting lives at risk, so please hurry.”

“We will,” Desmond said. “Take your personnel back to the main area, and stay together, it will be easier for Nathaniel to defend if anything happens. Sienna, I want your wound cleaned and bound, now. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Maestro,” she said, not wanting to cause any more trouble than they were already in.

It was only once they were alone in the engine room that Desmond spoke up, “I'm going to take her with me.”

“What?” Nathaniel turned away from the engine console, trying to see if he could regain any function. He had assumed that it went without saying that Sienna would stay with him. Whenever they separated, that was usually the case. The land outside was unknown, but certainly dangerous. To put her in that situation at all, regardless of who was with her, was not wise.

“It has been awhile since she and I went out on a quest alone,” Desmond said.

“But not now,” Nathaniel said. Desmond met his eyes.

“Nathaniel, I need to…explore a few things, with regard to our future within the magic. I need to be with my Tiro and see…if I'm right.”

Nathaniel felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. “You're going to leave her,” he said. He just knew, from the way Desmond looked, from the thoughts he was guarding. “You can't.”

“I didn't say that,” Desmond said, but Nathaniel's eyes widened.

“You don't have to.”

Desmond sighed. “I need to see, Nathaniel. I need to think. You are so close to her, it's hard to form a decision, when you take care of everything. And I have a feeling, subconsciously, that you have started to hide things from me.”

“Like what?” Nathaniel asked. “What would I hide from you?”

“You don't do it intentionally,” he said. “But I sometimes feel I have no idea what my Tiro is capable of, what her potential has grown to. It is good that you are close to her, Nathaniel, that you know what's happening. But I need to see myself.”

“And with those thoughts swirling in your head, will you keep her safe?”

Desmond's brow furrowed in anger. “How could you think otherwise? Regardless of whether or not I am going to move forward with her, I would never put anyone intentionally in danger.”

Nathaniel sighed. “I know,” he said. “I know, I'm sorry. I just…please don't do this.”

“I haven't made any choices yet,” Desmond said. “But I will take her with me. I am aware of the nightly routine, but perhaps you have some advice?”

“Nights are worse than days,” Nathaniel spoke after a quiet moment. “I know it's better with blocking her magic, but…sometimes they are sleepless.”

“You see, you don't tell me,” Desmond said. “Neither of you. I see it in your tired eyes in the morning, I hear it through our bond. But neither of you tell me of a night, unless it's particularly harsh.”

“Aye, well…” Nathaniel sighed. “You're right. It's cold on Arborath. Bundle up.”

“I'm sure we can handle that,” Desmond said. Before he turned to go, he met his former Tiro's eyes. “This is not to hurt you or her. This is for the good of the Order, whatever happens.”

“I know,” Nathaniel said. “I know that you say that. But I can't help but feel otherwise.”

“Look inside yourself,” Desmond asked. “Reach out to the magic, and you will find the correct answer. Even if it does not feel correct at that time.”

Nathaniel managed to give him a brief smile. “That's what you used to say to me when I took exams in class. It was particularly helpful during the multiple-choice ones.”

“Better than circling a random answer,” Desmond replied. “We'll leave as soon as we are able. Bring me that list.”

“Aye,” Nathaniel said, going back to the console. He wanted to tell Sienna, to console and prepare her. But he knew that he had to keep it from her, for it was not his choice to tell. He just hoped that Desmond could find a way through this difficult situation and see the light on the other side

“Go with you?” Sienna said, equally surprised when Desmond approached her. “Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn't I be sure, little one?” he asked.

“And Nathaniel won't come?”

“It'll just be you and I,” he said. “Find the warmest clothes you can.”

“How long should I pack for? Should I bring meds?”

“Always,” he said. “Prepare for two nights, a standard pack, and we'll…work from there. If you want to bring rations, I'll have room in my rut sack”

“A snow-covered planet cannot grow anything,” she said. “It is likely that they eat rations, as well.”

Desmond held her gaze.

“Do you want to take that risk?” he asked, evenly. “Weigh your choices.”

She paused.

“The sacks will be lighter and easier to defend with if they do not have rations,” she said, at last. “Do you think we are in danger?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“And the likelihood that we will return before nightfall?” she was asking all the right questions, and he was proud of her for that, at least.

“High,” he replied. “There's an outpost not far from here, from what I can tell.”

“Then…” She weighed the odds in her head. “I'll pack lightly.”

“Good girl,” he said. “Do you need help?”

“Bound,” she replied, holding up her arm. “I only got through about half the IV bag, though. I can bring pills, of course.”

“Uh…” He could wait for her to finish the bag, but they needed to go, for all their sakes. “That's fine. As soon as you can”

“Ten minutes, Maestro,” she replied, and he headed to get his own things.

It felt oddly final, packing for this outing. He tried to shake the feeling several times, but the magic was warning him of something foreboding that he couldn't ignore.

Nathaniel met them by the back doors, which he had managed to power enough to unseal.

“I'll have the heat on in ten minutes,” he said. “And after the doors, basic power supplies will return as soon as the battery recharges. We'll be all right for about forty-eight to seventy-two hours.”

“Understood,” Desmond said, hoping that it wouldn't be that long. “Keep them safe, Nathaniel.”

“I will,” Nathaniel said as he reached out for Sienna, giving her a one arm hugged. “Be careful. Call me if you need anything, all right?”

“Yes, Maestro,” she said, a bit confused by his sudden display of affection. Nathaniel was affectionate, but usually not when there was business involved. “We'll be fine.”

“Just come back in one piece,” Nathaniel said, glancing to Desmond. His former Maestro knew he was referring to more than just their bodily safety, and he adverted his eyes.

“We'll come back,” he said, and Nathaniel tried not to wince.

Please. Please come back.

Chapter 7

The snow was blowing as they got the door open. They were bundled, layer upon layer but Sienna felt the cold right away. She winced, pulling her backpack tighter as she ducked her head.

Desmond put a hand on her shoulder, pointing ahead to what looked like a frozen wasteland.

“Two miles,” he shouted over the wind and she nodded. They obviously wouldn't be talking much as they walked. Sienna was quite sure her mouth was going to freeze solid in the next few moments anyways.

She stepped off the ramp and shrieked as her leg went right into a snow drift nearly taller than her.

It was soft and fluffy, freshly fallen. She couldn't imagine how much snow had fallen in the past twenty-four hours, let alone what was underneath her, but it must be miles high.

“Not a good way to start,” Desmond's voice came as he yanked her out. She agreed with him, testing the ground around her until she found a patch that was more solid ice than snow.

“Are we there yet?” she asked and he tilted his head, giving her a look as they began to walk. She wanted to turn around to see if Nathaniel was by the door, but the wind was too strong.

The wind was picking up as they walked, and she wondered whether this was a full-blown storm or just a normal day on the planet. Despite the fact that it was living greenery and other plant material that often made her sick, she couldn't imagine living on a planet so devoid of life.

She gripped Desmond's arm as they walked across the ice, neither of them talking as they navigated the tricky terrain. Her time in training had taught her to be light on her feet, to move with grace, but it didn't always work when she couldn't see what was underneath the snow. They didn’t speak much, their mouths had frozen, and they were both relieved to see the outskirts of the town at last.

“Be on your guard,” Desmond said, as they approached. “The type of people here…they come to get away. They will be wary of outsiders, especially witches.”

“We could...not tell them?” Sienna suggested, and he shook his head.

“No, it's our duty to tell the who we are, if they ask. We should never be ashamed of our identity.”

“I wasn't suggesting that,” she replied. “I just thought we might have an easier time if we didn't outright reveal it.”

“Only if they ask,” Desmond replied, drawing his cape tighter around them. Now that they were closer to the buildings, the wind lessened, and she could see that the town was well planned. The people here accepted that winter was a permanent state, and they lived accordingly.

Sienna longed for the artificial heat of the ship more with every moment.

“All right.” Now that Desmond could feel his fingers, out of the wind, he pulled out the tablet that Nathaniel had sent them with. She stood up on her tiptoes to see it, arching over his arm. She was tall, but her older Maestro had always towered over her and everyone else. He cut an imposing figure, and he always made her feel safe. “This is the list he gave us. I think some of these are luxury items, though. Nathaniel always like to have the ship running at top speed.”

“No,” she said, scanning over the list. “He needs every single one of them.”

“Sienna…” Desmond said, scrolling through. “I'm not a pessimistic sort, but we will be here for days sorting through piles for this kind of list.”

“Days or forever,” she countered. “Because I think we don't fly if we can't find them.”

He sighed.

“The language here is non-universal,” he said. “So, I'd like you to take the lead. It's more likely that you'll be able to pick up on a root language than I will.”

“Me?” she said in shock. “But you…”

“No,” he said. “You are perfectly capable, Sienna, and this is a task that is done without magic. You will do it and I will be here to assist if needed.”

Her eyes went wide, and he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“What worries you, little one?” he asked, meeting her eyes. “You are capable of doing this.”

“I…”

“When Nathaniel took you with him to find the amulet,” Desmond referred to a quest about 6 months ago. “Did you not take the lead?”

“No,” she said. “He did. He usually does. I watch him do it, negotiate, translate but…I don't.”

Desmond raised an eyebrow at the news. They were usually together, but when they were apart, he did expect Nathaniel to be training her and challenging her.

“Well, you are with me now, and it won't be that way.”

“What if I make a mistake?”

“Then you will find a way to fix it,” he replied. “One day, I will not be at your back, Sienna, and you will learn.”

“Where are you going?” she asked again and he shook his head.

“Come, we don't have time to waste,” he said, and headed toward the market stalls. She didn't have time to be nervous. Desmond put the list in her hands, and she marched up to the stall owner.

Everyone in the market was a raggedy bunch. From Sienna's eye, it looked like they had seen much war and sorrow. Their faces were scarred, their shoulders were heavy, their eyes held a lifetimes worth of stories.

In language classes, they trained her to speak first in her mother tongue, and then try to pick up the accent or language of the person she was speaking to. Years of training as a witch had brought Sienna almost fluency in Basic, but when she was working in translation, she switched to Jeffroian. She knew that Desmond usually didn't approve of her trying to work in a language that wasn't universal, but today, he didn't say a word when she started the conversation.

“I'm looking for coils, part number 324343,” she said, to the shop keeper, who turned to glare at her. She had clearly interrupted his meal. How he could eat in this snowstorm was beyond her, but as a transparent alien creature, with large eyes and long fingers, she wondered if the cold just went right through him.

“What?”

She recognized his root language quickly, and switched to Herian, a language she had learned a few years ago.

“Coils,” she said, taking the tablet from Desmond. “Do you have them?”

“Do you have money?”

“Yes,” she said, although Desmond had not made her aware of what amount of money they had. Witches often operated without currency, used to trading their services for peace.

“What's a pretty girl like you want such advanced ship parts for?”

“Uh…” she wasn't prepared to answer that question, but luckily, the shop keeper didn't expect her to. He went to the back of his pile of stuff, and started digging through it.

“Does he have them?” Desmond asked, in basic, and she jumped.

“Don't know,” she said. “But he thought I was pretty.”

“Did he now?” Desmond's gaze shifted to the alien like a protective father. “Don't let him talk to you as any less than you are.”

“I'm hardly in danger of falling in love,” she replied, as the alien turned back.

“What else you need?”

“Do you have them?” she repeated.

“Parts like that are hard to find. Try somewhere else. What else you need?”

It seemed to be the theme of the day. Every stall they went to, shivering in the cold, they would find the same story. Everyone would ask them, look interested, look for the parts, try to drag them in with a discount on other parts, and then not have the essential items.

By the time they reached the end of the market line up, Sienna felt like she was going to drop from the cold. She was shivering uncontrollably, and feeling disappointed by the lack of progress.

“I don't know that we are going to find it,” she said to Desmond. “Either that or they don't trust us enough to sell their parts to us.”

“Do you think that's the case?” he said, and she thought hard about the expressions she had seen.

“Some, maybe. Others truly don't have the product, which means we could be stuck here until they gain our trust.”

“And?” he asked, causing her to try and recall basically every lesson she had learned. “How do you gain the trust of locals?”

“Aside from moving in and living like a local for months?” she asked. “We could…we would need to gain the trust of one, who hopefully can influence the others.”

She shivered then, as a particularly cold wind blew up her back, and arched her shoulders. Desmond sympathized with her in that moment, his face softening She was trying as hard as she could, but she wasn't used to the kind of exertion a quest like this required. They both had pampered her, and only now could he see the damage it had done.

An alarm went off, on top the buildings, and crackling through the radios on in the stalls. Sienna jumped, her head whipping around.

There was a flurry of activity, as the shop keepers struggled to cover their items. They began to pull down the thick metal sheet walls that each stall had, trying items to the ground

“Desmond?” When Sienna had magic, she could read minds at a faster rate than almost any witch. An alarm like that would provide her information through hundreds of panicked thoughts before anyone was even aware they were thinking them. Now, she relied on Desmond, who searched the minds of those around them.

“It's a storm alarm,” he said. “It means it will be unbearable to be outside shortly. We need to take shelter.”

“Can we get back to the ship?”

“I doubt we have time,” he said. “Most of them are thinking that this is going to be a long one, and how glad they are to make a profit before it came. So I suspect that wherever we find shelter will trap us for the night.”

“But…” she started and he turned to her, his ever-calming gaze present.

“Sienna, it will be fine,” he assured her. Nathaniel was usually her main contact at night, should anything arise. It had been so long since she reached out for Desmond's help when she couldn't breathe, or when the sickness overtook her. “But we need to find shelter. Did you see any place on our way in?”

“There's an inn,” she said. “A few feet from where we entered town. It looked pretty run down…but do you think we will be here the night?”

“I think so,” he said. “Can you make it back?”

“I'm so cold,” she admitted and he took off his cape, wrapping it around her.

“Maestro—”

“The magic will keep me warm, Sienna,” he said, making sure it was chained under her chin. He didn't need to point out the fact that she didn't have magic to do so herself. “Come, before we end up permanent snow statues”

She drew his cloak closer, fighting against the wind that was picking up.

Could this be her life, leading the negotiations, learning how to work around the problems that arose, without an ounce of magic?

Aside from the fact that she was worried about hypothermia, it wouldn't be so bad. She had a euphoric feeling from figuring out a possible solution and she was eager to get warm so that they could go over the situation again. She had been hesitant to come on this trip, but now she saw it might be a blessing in disguise

Chapter 8

“I have one room,” the innkeeper said when they finally broke into the door. The wind was picking up and Sienna was starting to wonder whether she would be blown away before they made it in. “I'm afraid it's going to be a bit loud, but beggars can't be choosers in the storm.”

“Loud?” Sienna asked, leaning against the counter, confused. She was tired, and she didn't care whether they provided her a blanket in the hallway. They had slept in worse conditions.

“The workhouse got blown in earlier. A few of the workers are being put up here.”

“That's kind of you,” Desmond said, as he counted out the coins they needed for the room.

“Kind?” the innkeeper arched an eyebrow. “They are paying me.”

“Of course,” Desmond replied, only calm. “Keeping in touch with the community is still something to be desired.”

“They're children,” the innkeeper shoved a key across the desk. “Don't bring trouble here.”

“Just a couple of beds,” Desmond assured her. “We are only here on business.”

“Business?” the innkeeper looked between the two of them, confused. She clearly saw the age gap and thought the worst, but decided it wasn't worth losing the business. “Just keep it down.”

“You wouldn't know…” Sienna remembered Desmond's lesson. “Where we could get some parts? For a ship? We tried the market.”

“Guess they don't have them,” she said and went into the backroom, leaving them standing there. Sienna turned to Desmond.

“I tried,” she said.

“You did,” he agreed as he navigated the dark flickering hallway. The storm lights were already on, and the wind howled outside. Witches were trained to survive almost any climate, and forge on, no matter what. But a storm like this meant even Desmond gave up for the night. “But we'll find another way, if we are meant to.”

“How long do they think the storm is going to last?” Sienna asked. Desmond found their room, inserting the key and after twisting it for a moment, heard a click.

“A day or two,” he said. “Hopefully, Nathaniel has figured out how to get the basics of the ship working. We can check in with him in a moment.”

“We—” Sienna wrinkled her nose as they stepped into the room. There were two single beds that looked like they hadn't seen the light of day in weeks. They were dingy and the corners were untucked. The bathroom had dirt on the tiles, and the light was flickering. The window was cracked, and it was cold, even with most of the glass intact. “Ew.”

Desmond chuckled at that, shaking his head.

“We've had so much worse,” he said. “Do you remember, in Largo? Sleeping in the alleyway?”

“I do,” she said. “I also remember five-star accommodation when we worked on royal negotiation missions, and Eliza's palace.”

“If that is what you desire,” he replied, “hopefully, you will have the rest of your life in them.”

“That's an odd thing to say,” she said, as she sank onto one of the beds. He was about to rectify it when a knock came at the door. Puzzled, he signaled for her to be on her guard, just in case.

It was simply the innkeeper. The scowling woman certainly didn't belong on this planet humanoid in, but Sienna had a feeling no one really belonged here. They just ended up here.

“We serve food,” she said, looking from Desmond to Sienna. “Downstairs. Thirty minutes.”

“Thank you,” Desmond said. “But we're—”

“You have to feed her,” the woman said. “You can't starve her, not on my watch.”

Desmond was about to protest again, knowing that whatever they served wouldn't be suitable for her. But Sienna stood up in one graceful movement, remembering his lesson on getting the locals to trust them.

“Thank you,” she said. “We'll be down then.”

“Good.” The woman turned and left, the door slamming behind her.

Desmond watched Sienna as she dug into her rut sack, pulling out the com link to reach back to the ship. There was a time when she would shed tears over the fear of food she couldn't have, of not being included. But now she seemed calm, at peace with it.

“I'm going to scan the perimeter,” he said. “Something about this building feels odd. Stay here and give Nathaniel a full update.”

“Of course,” she said, leaning against the wall.

Desmond made sure the door was shut behind him before heading down the hallway. He thought he sensed magic floating in the halls, but he wasn't entirely sure. If there was magic, it was weak, untrained, normally found in young children. And in a hotel surrounded by a storm and full of workhouse workers, that didn't make any sense.

Until he rounded the corner into the stairway and nearly tripped over 4 children playing with jacks on the floor. Then, everything made sense.

Jacks was an old game that he remembered playing only vaguely He also remembered it being played exactly the way they were playing it, with magic to guide the ball and swoop up the metal bits.

They looked up at him in shock. Various races and species, they couldn't have been older than 4 or 5 years old. Tiny hands, tiny faces, and tiny jets of magic, all in one dark stairway.

“Hello,” he said, cautiously “I'm sorry if I startled you.”

They looked between each other, and Desmond was worried they didn't understand Basic. He had a few other languages up his sleeve, but certainty not as many as Sienna. Luckily, for him, one of them answered him after a moment.

“It's okay,” he said. “You want to play?”

“Hmm,” he crouched down, trying not to invade their space. “Sure.”

He wanted to observe their magic to see if there was any chance they were Tiros. He had a feeling they weren't, and he certainly didn't know any other quests here. They wouldn't have reacted to him in such a way if they had begun training and they were incredibly young to be away from the school. There was no quest he knew of that would send this many teams out, so young.

“That's wonderful, what you can do,” he said. “Where did you learn it?”

“We always could do it, mister,” one said. “Everybody can.”

“Everybody can?” Desmond raised an eyebrow. “I'm not so sure about that.”

“Everybody we work with can.”

“Where?” he asked.

“At the workhouse. All our friends can.”

“Are you…paid at this workhouse?” he asked.

“Yes, we have proper jobs,” one who couldn't be older than five said. Desmond knew that in some cultures this was perfectly acceptable. And he realized it was similar to what they did in the academy, starting that at such a young age. In some alien cultures, five years old was mature. Still, it was shocking to see it out of a humanoid. “Have to.”

“Why do you have to?” Desmond asked.

“Because we don't have families.”

“Oh,” Desmond replied. “And how did you find out about this…job?”

“Pedro told me,” said another voice.

“Whose Pedro?”

“He's the boss.”

“Of course.” Desmond straightened up. He trusted magic, absolutely, and now he was starting to realize that there was a reason they were stranded here. The magic had wanted them to find this place. He had to find out more about these children, this workhouse.

He had a feeling they were being paid low wages, as orphans, to magically enhance productivity. Machines could do a lot, but they couldn't do what magic could.

“Are you going to dinner?” he asked.

“Of course!” they echoed, as if that was the silliest thing in the world. He didn't want to invade their space for too long, so he bid them goodbye, leaving them to keep playing.

He had never heard of this before. The school did such a good job of identifying those who had magical ability. No one was forced to train, of course, but they usually did. Having one or two with stray magic in a place would be one thing. But in this situation, it seems that they were sought out, and perhaps taught that there were no other options.

He wanted to meet this Pedro, and find out more. But he had a feeling the way to any information was going to be through the children.

He headed back down the hallway, prepared to tell Sienna what he had found. He expected her to be ready to go, perhaps unpacking, as she usually did in a new place.

He was not prepared to find her curled up on the bed, tears sliding down her face.

“What's happened?” he asked, in shock. He reached out with his magic to Nathaniel on the ship, but could feel that his former Tiro was perfectly safe.

She shook her head, wiping her tears away.

“Nothing,” she said.

“Obviously, something has happened,” Desmond said, as he shut the door. “You don't have to hide, little one.”

“I—“ She sucked in a deep breath. “I'm afraid, to go to dinner. I don't want to be sick. I was doing so well.”

Fear was an emotion that witches weren't supposed to feel. Desmond sat carefully on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out how he had left her accepting the dinner invitation without any balking to now sobbing into her hands.

“You are doing very well,” he said. “And accepting the invitation, despite your limitations has gained us some trust, which we need to find these parts.”

“But—”

“There is always something you can have, isn't there?” Desmond asked. “Even if it's small? This is not the type of place that has fresh food, Sienna. Everything will come from a package, I assure you.”

She met his eyes, sniffling, and nodded.

“All right,” he said. “Go and take a shower, relax, and when we go down, we will be calm, won't we?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath, and then got off the bed. “But—”

“You will find a way,” he said. “This won't be the first time you will have anxiety about accepting an invitation. If it is necessary, there will always be a way. Go.”

She knew there was no point in arguing, and so she slunk into the bathroom, shutting the door. He couldn't imagine any shower in this bathroom was going to be relaxing, but the very act of doing so might be enough to calm her.

As soon as the door was shut, he picked up the com-link she had discarded. When he heard the water running, he called Nathaniel back.

“Sienna?” Nathaniel answered, and Desmond realized what had happened.

“What did you say to her?”

“Maestro?” Nathaniel changed gears. “Sorry, I thought you were—”

“Yes, I know,” Desmond replied. “What did you say to her just now?”

“Nothing,” Nathaniel said, surprised “She was upset about the food, that was all. I reminded her that she was different, and she needed to be careful, but that you would take care of her.”

Desmond sighed. “Nathaniel,” he got up, drifting away from the bathroom. “She was fine when I left. She was the one who accepted the invitation and who knew it was a good idea to get the locals to trust us so we could find these damned parts. She was content and then she talks to you and she turns into a quivering child again. You can't do that to her. She's got to learn to take care of herself.”

“Sorry?” Nathaniel said. “You know how sick she is—”

“I know how sick she was,” Desmond replied. “And I know that we made decisions that made her illness very bearable. She doesn't know how to take care of herself, because you…”

“Because of me?” Nathaniel answered. “Because I'm focused on training a Tiro, rather than abandoning one?”

“Nathaniel,” Desmond's voice had a growl in it. “Your current task is the ship. Mine is our Tiro.”

“For how much longer?” Nathaniel asked, and the line went dead.

Desmond shook his head in shock. Nathaniel had never in his life ended a call like that. Had he still been a Tiro, he would have been reprimanded beyond belief for such behavior. When they had entered into this agreement, he had hoped it would be in peace. There was enough war in the galaxy without going into battle with Nathaniel.

Chapter 9

Nathaniel felt like he was going to throw the com link across the room. He had been working tirelessly throughout the day, pushing his magic to the limits and wincing every time a gust of air so much as flicked his wrist, to get the heat back on and the basics of the ship running. There was no one else on board that could help him with the fine work, although Eliza had been through his side through every moment, holding tools and offering conversation.

Now, she had heard every word that had transpired between Sienna, himself, and Desmond.

“What's his problem?” she asked Nathaniel, as the conversation ended.

Nathaniel shook his head. “There's not enough time to get into the delusions he has in his head in the moment.”

Eliza's eyebrows shot up through her hair. “In all your years, I've never heard you talk about Desmond that way,” she said. “You've been so angry at him, and so confused, but you've never been rude to him like that.”

“It's just…” Nathaniel said, and then realized what he might be revealing. “There are going to be some very long talks in the future.”

“About what?” she asked, leaning against the wall. Nathaniel shook his head. “Now you're hiding things from me?”

“I'm not.” Nathaniel took a deep breath. “Desmond told me before he left. This is a last test with Sienna. He's pretty certain that he can do nothing for her.”

“What?” Eliza's jaw dropped. “He's going to leave her?”

“I think so,” Nathaniel said. “That's why he pushing this independence, these lessons she's not ready for.”

“But if he leaves her,” Eliza said. “She'll still have you.”

“Of course, she will,” Nathaniel said. “But for a Maestro to leave a Tiro is almost unheard of it. It will be a black mark on his record, and he already has a few.”

“I don't think Desmond cares what black marks the Jurors have against him,” Eliza said. “How can he leave her, though?”

“Because he feels that her training is as far as it can go with a lack of magic. He lacks creativity, he lacks academic…” Nathaniel slammed his good hand against the wall. “We were supposed to be in this together, Eliza. This was his idea, his plan for both of us to take on a task almost too difficult to manage. Neither of us could do it without the other, and now he wants to break her heart and leave me alone.”

Eliza stepped forward, placing a calming hand on his arm. “And if he leaves her?” she asked.

“I won't,” Nathaniel assured. “I never will.”

“But do you think you can do it yourself?” she said. Nathaniel's eyes flashed.

“Of course, I can,” he said. “I'll get her through to the tests and then maybe we'll find another just like her, and work together.”

Eliza smiled. “I was only thinking,” she said. “That there would always be a place on Jeffro for her, if you did want to…”

“I don't want to,” Nathaniel assured her. “I never would. Difficult doesn't bother me.”

“Mm…” She put both arms around his neck, drawing him in for a kiss. “That I know.”

The impact of her lips on his calmed him down, it always did. She pulled back to meet his eyes, remembering the first time that she looked into those eyes, when she was just a teenager.

“It'll be all right,” she assured him. “All of this well.”

“I know,” he said. “And I know that anger distracts from the magic. I just can't ignore what Desmond is doing right now.”

“I think he's doing what he believes is right,” Eliza replied. “You may not feel that it's right, but his heart may say he can't go on like this. And so it's time for you to pick up where he left off. Isn't that the trail a Maestro leads a Tiro, anyways?”

“So philosophical,” he replied. “I'm hoping that spending time with her will make him realize how wrong he is.”

“It may,” Eliza answered. “Or it may make him realize that he's right. Either way, if you believe that the magic is guiding you, there's not much you can do from here.”

Suddenly, the lights kicked out and the hum of the heater switched off. Nathaniel swore, breaking apart from his lover. “I thought I had that fixed.”

“Clearly not,” Eliza replied, looking around. “But I'm sure you'll figure it out. What can I do to help?”

“Get some light,” he replied. “And a jacket. It's going to get cold again.”

“It's cold already,” she said, but left the room. Eliza had always been a hands-on Queen. Those who didn't know her might be surprised to find her in the engine room, but Nathaniel knew that if there was a problem she could assist in solving, she'd be ankle deep in it without hesitation.

With one arm useless, he had to re-think a lot of the procedures before he did them. It wasn't easy, and he had a feeling he was making things worse. Just as he was squinting over an open hatch, he heard a screech of metal behind him.

“Eliza?” he spun around, wondering if she had tripped over something on her way back in.

There was nothing in the darkness behind him, which made him tense.

“Hello?” he called again, straightening up.

Another bash of metal came, and it occurred to him that it was coming from outside the ship.

He exited the engine room, rounding the corner to a porthole.

To his horror, what he saw were two pirate ships, parked alongside his. There were at least forty pirates and scalpers, with massive weapons, and they were apparently taking no prisoners. Scrap metal in this good of condition was probably hard to come by.

Nathaniel, however, wasn't interested in becoming scrap metal.

“JONAH!” he screamed through the hallway. He wasn't sure where the lucky survivor guard was, but he couldn't be far. Jonah had been organizing guard detail of the ship, for just this reason.

Jonah came hurtling down the hallway, Eliza on his tail. His weapon was already in his hands, and from the look of cockiness on his face, Nathaniel had a feeling he already had a plan.

“Pirates, eh?” Jonah said, as he peaked out the window. “No problem.”

“There's quite a few of them,” Nathaniel said, and turned to Eliza. His instinct lately in battle was to reach out and hide someone take care of someone.

But he quickly realized that no one on the ship needed that kind of protection. Eliza was a battle queen, and her ladies in waiting were equally trained. Eliza's guards were second to none, she made sure of it.

While he wanted to protect Eliza, and while it was his duty, her skills in pure combat were almost equal to his. It was only his magic that put him above her, and currently, he wasn't able to use much of it.

“What's your plan?” he asked Jonah, who shrugged.

“Open the door and blast them into outer space?” Jonah suggested.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Not the best plan,” he said. “Given that we are outnumbered.”

“Do you have a better one?” Jonah replied. “Because in a moment, they are going to be coming through the walls and you can ask them yourself.”

“Not particularly,” Nathaniel growled, as he thought.

“We aren't so badly outnumbered,” Eliza said. “This is straight combat. Jonah's plan isn't bad. I do think we should open more than one door, though. Come at them from all angles”

“And have them able to infiltrate the ship from all angles,” Nathaniel replied.

“Have faith.” She grinned, as another guard handed her a gun. “We'll be all right.”

“You should stay here,” Nathaniel said to Eliza. “It's our job to…”

“I will not stand by when I don't need to,” Eliza replied. “They won't know what hit them. Isn't that right, Jonah?”

“As you wish, your highness.” Jonah grinned at Nathaniel. “You should know better than to argue with her.”

“I should,” Nathaniel answered reluctantly “But I don't. Fine. Divide up as you see fit. I'll stay here at this door.”

“And I'll stay with you,” Eliza said. “When you're ready, Jonah, send a signal.”

“With what power?” Jonah asked, and Nathaniel saw his chance.

“Think it, with great certainty,” he said. “I should be able to pick up on your thoughts, and send it to the others.”

“Advantage of fighting with a witch,” Jonah said with a grin. “Good luck to you.”

“We won't need luck,” Eliza answered. “We will just need skill and time.”

“Go,” Nathaniel said, as a blast rocked the ship. These were pirates who clearly weren't going to wait for an answer.

“See you in a moment,” Jonah grinned and headed down the hall. Nathaniel shook his head.

“I've never seen a man so joyous to go into battle.”

“Jonah is a bit…different than most.” Eliza replied. “He was born to be a warrior, I think.”

“Aye,” Nathaniel answered. “I know that feeling.”

He monitored Jonah's thoughts carefully, waiting for the right moment. He found it easy to lock onto the young Captain of the guards, who had such similar morals and motives compared to himself.

“On the count of three…” Nathaniel said, facing Eliza. “Ready? 1-2-.”

In typical Queen of Jeffro fashion, she didn't wait for three. She burst through the door, firing as she did. Her jaw was set, and Nathaniel focused on every place her cover fire missed, hitting the pirates before they even had a chance to think. He locked onto her mind, looking for the gaps in her aim and making it up with his own laser bullets.

They were perfectly in sync, his entire mind moving with hers. He didn't think about anything else besides the battle, the moment, the next shot.

It turned out to be remarkably easy. Pirates were untrained warriors, and they stood no chance against a one-armed witch and Eliza's Jeffroian guards

In the end, the group was left panting in the middle of bodies, grinning to each other over their victory.

“How was that?” Eliza asked Nathaniel, who laughed.

“That, was amazing,” he said. “I haven't had a battle like that in ten years. Is it strange to hope for many more to come?”

“Not if that's what you are meant to do,” Eliza said, leaning into him for a kiss. There was no one around who cared to dampen their mood, and he lost himself in the moment that he rarely could have.

Chapter 10

“As in they could be witches?” Sienna said, softly, as they walked down stairs. Although her tears were dry, he could see that she was still nervous, which he cursed Nathaniel for. He wasn't going to assure her time and time again she would be fine. They would be fine. She had to learn to find courage within.

“They are born with magic,” he said. “You know as well as I do that being born with magic does not bring you through the tests.”

“Like me,” she said, and he sighed.

“Yes, little one, like you.”

The change in her mood from earlier was evident, and he hoped that there would be enough food to distract her from what Nathaniel had caused her to dwell on.

He hadn't expected to walk into a dining hall full of children. He expected a place like this to have a tiny available cafeteria, with yesterday's food being served. The dining hall was larger than most of the building, taking up the entire floor of the basement. There were at least twenty children eating, running, yelling, and, to both their amazement, using magic. They used magic for everything picking up their forks, choosing their food, and even throwing a piece of food or two at each other, with giggles.

“Oh my.” Sienna put her hand to her mouth. She could only imagine such behavior in her youth, which would instantly get her into trouble. Trained witches would not be allowed to have such lavish displays of magic, for any reason. If they did, they would be punished. Witches were supposed to use their magic only for good, and not display it for reasons that didn't serve nature. “Did you know there were so many?”

“I didn't,” Desmond admitted. “I know you can't feel it, but their magical signature is odd. But then, I've never felt children this old who were completely untrained.”

“Do you think they are too old to be trained?” Sienna asked, and Desmond eyed her.

“Is that the first thing that comes to your mind? That they should be taken away from their life here?”

He wasn't asking it harshly, but rather, curiously. Sienna was certain of her answer.

“Of course. They are witches. And what kind of life to they have here?”

“They are orphans. They have jobs, they are provided living expenses. I suspect they were sought out for their powers and brought here. They talked about a boss named Pedro, and I'm not sure whether he's the good sort to protect orphans…”

“Or the bad sort to take advantage of them,” Sienna answered. “They seem…happy. I mean, he put them up here. Can you imagine having a job that young?”

“As in, being a witch?” he asked as they sat. Both of them knew it was best to first observe and then interfere as they felt needed. However, it was only a few moments before they were given a plate of food, thrown down in front of them by an apparently disgruntled waitress.

“Is everyone here upset?” Sienna asked under her breath. Desmond quirked an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. That was, without a doubt, Nathaniel's brand of humor However, they soon found that they weren't left alone to their meal.

The disgruntled innkeeper approached. “Why aren't you eating?”

“Uh…” Desmond did a quick scan of the plate, and saw, to his surprise, that everything was fresh.

“These children come here to be treated well. I will not have it any other way under my watch.”

“That's so kind of you,” Sienna said, with a smooth smile. “Are they often here?”

“Their conditions aren't the best,” the innkeeper admitted. “But Pedro, he's good to take care of them.”

“Is he?” Sienna asked. “The children have been telling me wonderful things about him.”

“He is,” the innkeeper said. “He doesn't want to see lost children go astray. Wants them to be able to pick their own paths.”

“But are they not witches?” Sienna asked. “Isn't there a school for people like them?”

“Schools like that are dreams,” she replied. “For the rich, for those who can fit in. These children are orphans from bad families. Now, eat.” She pushed the plate toward Sienna. “You're thin.”

“She's all right,” Desmond put in, but he could see there was going to be no choice in the matter.

Sienna pressed forward, wanting to see if she could get any more information.

“Would this Pedro know where to get parts?” she asked. “I'm thin because I'm sick, and I need to get home.”

That seemed to catch the innkeeper's attention. Her eyes lingered between Sienna and Desmond for a long moment.

“Maybe,” she said. “Eat.”

She turned and left, but Sienna had a feeling that her watchful eye was going to be on them all evening.

“You did well, Tiro,” Desmond said. “You made a step in the right direction and I did not say a word to assist, if you noticed.”

“I noticed.” She picked up her fork. “But—” She took a deep breath, poking at the carrots. Desmond drew the line at her making herself sick, and reached over, but she pulled away. “We're going to insult her if I don't. And if that is one step closer to getting these parts before we all die on this frozen rock…then so be it.”

He didn't stop her. He knew that he could probably argue or order her to step away from the plate, but they both understood that it would help.

“A bit,” he said. “A little bit shouldn't hurt you, not with the magical suppressors we have you on.”

“I never thought of that, actually,” she said. “Would they help?”

“Here's to being in a medical textbook,” he said, picking up his dirty water glass.

It didn't take long for the children to notice the strangers among them. They were friendly and outgoing, which told Desmond that their working conditions were not terrible. If they were abused, they would not be smiling and playing so eagerly in such a public space.

Sienna found a little girl tugging at her arm shyly within the first five minutes. She looked down, smiling as she took what was her first bite of a real vegetable in a few years.

“Yes?” she asked.

The girl pointed to a ball, which had rolled under the table. Sienna bent to get it and then paused.

“Can you?” she asked. “With your magic? I'm sure you can.”

The girl grinned, and reached her hand out.

Sienna watched in awe as a pink stream of magic shot, encompassed the ball, and pulled it back into the girl's hand. She moved her leg as it brushed her, feeling the warm magic of another witch for the first time in years as well as the chewy carrot.

The look on her face when she felt magic made Desmond's heart sink. In Sienna's mind, there had never been any other path, besides being a witch, serving the magic. She had only ever dreamed of it, and she had dreamed of it before they had even given her the path to achieve it.

There were a few more children who came over to play, and Sienna managed to ask one of them when the infamous Pedro was coming back for them.

“Tomorrow morning,” said one. “We will go back to work.”

“Are you excited?” she asked, and the boy, who couldn't have been more than eight, gave her a toothy grin and flicked his wrist.

“Of course. I love using magic.”

“Me, too,” she said, before she could even think. Desmond's head flew up, and she bit her lip. The boy, however, looked excited.

“You are a witch too?”

“I am,” she replied. “Sort of.”

“You should meet Pedro then,” the boy cried. “He will have job for you.”

“Oh?” Sienna asked. “When?”

“Tomorrow He comes at dawn.”

“Then I'll be here at dawn,” she answered, and the boy scampered away, happy enough. She turned to Desmond, who gave her an approving nod.

“Easy enough,” he said. “The hard part will be in the morning. Would you consider going alone?”

“Alone?” Her eyes widened. “Why would I go alone?”

“Because it is you gaining their trust, not I,” he said. “If I am with you…”

Her confidence instantly shrank, and her shoulders lowered.

“I don't know. Maybe. I don't know. Can we see how I feel?”

“It is the best course of action, Tiro,” he said. “And one day...”

“One day you won't be here,” she said. “Why do you keep repeating that? Is there something you aren't telling me?”

He briefly considered whether this was the moment to have the conversation that he had been holding back on. But he decided, surrounded by screaming children, that it probably wasn't.

“You should stop eating,” he said, at last. “There's rations in the room.”

“Do you think that's enough to satisfy?” Sienna asked, simultaneously pushing back her plate and yawning. “Oh, my.”

“It's been a long day,” he said, scraping at the remains of his own plate. “And dawn comes early. If you're ready, we should head upstairs.”

“You don't think staying and talking to them would help?” she asked, as she rose. He stood, as well, stacking his plate under hers.

“What do you think?”

She paused, analyzing the situation.

“I don't think it will help any more than it already has. We need to talk to Pedro to get more information.”

“I agree,” he said, steering her gently out of the way. The innkeeper was still watching, leaning over the counter, but she only gave him a nod as they walked out. Whatever her thoughts were, she wasn't about to shove more food down their throats.

“Should we call Nathaniel?” Sienna asked.

“No,” Desmond replied. “I spoke to him already, and I want him to focus all his energy on keeping Eliza safe.”

“Safe?” Sienna picked up on the word. “Is he in danger?”

Desmond had felt a brief surge of adrenaline from his bond with Nathaniel, but he had not felt any danger, and so he kept it from her.

“He's all right,” he said.

“Would you tell me if he were not?” Sienna asked, as she grabbed her rut sack and headed to the bathroom to change.

“Of course,” Desmond replied, sitting on the bed on the other side of the room. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Fine,” she called. “Maybe the drugs do suppress everything. That would be wonderful, to eat normal food again.”

“It would,” he said, half-distracted.

The fact that their Tiro could no longer tell whether her Maestros were in danger was a saddening fact, and only brought home his reasoning for the coming days. It wasn't that he couldn't continue any more. It's that they hadn't been continuing for a long time. Years, if he was honest with himself. There had been no advancement in skill, no quests that climbed up in ranking, no nods from the Jurors. It was just them and Sienna, stagnant for all of them, unless he put a stop to it.

She was asleep within minutes, her lithe body close to the wall, and her eyes closed, peaceful as he lingered by the window.

Where could she go? Where would she want to go? Who would take in a witch without power, a fragile dreamer?

And would he be damned forever for what he did to her, the broken promises he made?

Maestros were supposed to protect their Tiros, and he was confident only in the fact that he was protecting her from a lack of future. The only way to move forward was to separate, and there was no way to do it painlessly.

Creator, forgive me, he thought.

Chapter 11

Desmond awoke to Sienna retching and shivering over the edge of her bed. She had managed to grab the one rubbish bin in the room, and there wasn't much in her stomach. But her body was rejecting everything there was, her eyes tearing up in pain as she fought against the convulsions.

He sprung up at once, touching her arm to tell her he was there, and nudging the rubbish bin closer.

“I can't— I can't—” she was gasping for air, and without the bond, he had no help to figure out what she couldn't do. He reached for the blanket, pulling it over her shoulders to keep her warm.

“Hush,” he said, sitting down beside her and rubbing her back. “You need to relax. It won't hurt as much.”

“Blue…” she said, trying to meet his eyes.

“Blue. The blue pills?” he asked, and then paused. “Sienna, you don't need those. Just relax and I'll get you some water in a moment.”

Her blue pills were a powerful mix of electrolytes and chemicals, meant to re-hydrate her in extreme measures. Desmond did not consider one bout of vomiting extreme measures, and instead reached for his water bottle.

“Nathaniel always…”

“Nathaniel is on the ship and I am here for you,” he pointed out. “I need you to try water first, and if it doesn't work, we'll move on.”

He would never accuse his former Tiro of neglect. That wasn't the case. But he was starting to see why she and Nathaniel had so many sleepless nights if he panicked and pampered her at every turn. There were legitimate times she was ill, of course, and they had both had many nights in the hard plastic chairs on the med bay.

But this was not one of those times, and Sienna soon sank back.

“Was it dinner?” Desmond asked and she nodded.

“Yes. I thought we were fine.”

“There was quite a delay on that.” He glanced at the clock as she sipped back water. “Better?”

“Yes,” she said, trying not to gulp it down. “I'm sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” He raised an eyebrow. “If anything, I was waiting.”

“But I shouldn't have done it.”

“That, Sienna, is up to you,” he said as he rose. “You need to get some rest.”

Her eyes went wide.

“But Nathaniel always sits up, in case…”

Of course, he did, Desmond thought.

“We're in the same room, little one,” he said. “I'll hear if anything goes wrong. But your body is fighting and it needs rest, all right? I'm right here.”

She reluctantly accepted this fate, and after washing out her mouth, lay down. Desmond resisted the urge to blast Nathaniel through his bond or the com link

She needed to learn to be self-sufficient, to be strong, to understand that she was stronger than she had been treated to be.

Dawn came before either of them were ready. Desmond felt the sunlight shine into their room, peeking through the ripped curtains. The wind had died down, and the makeshift job he had done fixing the crack in the window had held up. He sat up, blinking as he tried to wake up without complaining.

I'm getting too old for this he thought, as he glanced over at the other bed. She was still sleeping, and he figured he could let her have another few minutes, given that it was still partially dark outside.

He grabbed the com link from the bedside table, and quietly closed the bathroom door behind him, hoping it would block out the sound.

“Nathaniel,” he dialed in the frequency.

It took a moment and then another, but eventually, his former Tiro with a perchance to sleep until noon answered.

“Maestro?” came the sleep laden voice. “Everything all right?”

“I see you've gotten power up and running,” Desmond said. “To charge the com link”

“Aye,” Nathaniel replied. “Power and heat and narrowly avoided being scrap metal. Listen, Maestro, about last night…”

“Now is not the time to talk about it,” Desmond replied. “Both of us were hotheaded last night.”

“Is she all right then?” Nathaniel asked.

“She's fine,” Desmond said. “We have a lead for ship parts today, and the storm is dying down. But our lead comes with some interesting baggage.”

“Oh?” Nathaniel said, rolling over. Eliza was still asleep beside him, and he briefly contemplated going into the other room, as not to wake her. But then, the bed was so warm, he was pretty sure he'd never leave.

Desmond briefly went over the children they had found, and Nathaniel sat up a bit more.

“The school is not for the rich,” he said, in defiance “What a ridiculous notion.”

“I think some people see the elegance of witches and assume it's about money,” Desmond replied. “Which is obviously not the case. They don't know there is another way. And if they are happy enough, I will not interfere. But our job is to educate…”

“Educate…” Nathaniel said. “But not steal away. If there are no families, the children get to speak for themselves.”

“I'm aware,” Desmond replied. “But I still think they need to know of the life out there.”

“So you're going to tell them?”

“If I can,” Desmond said. “Obviously, getting Eliza out of here comes first. You are safe?”

“For now,” Nathaniel answered. “Can't last forever on makeshift power.”

“We're working on it,” Desmond tried to assure him.

“Did you tell her yet?”

There was a silence on the other end, and Nathaniel sat up more.

“Did you tell her?”

“No,” Desmond said. “We haven't discussed it yet.”

“But you are decided?”

Sienna shifted in the other room, and Desmond knew his time was up. “I'll speak to you later, Nathaniel,” he said, ending the call.

Sienna didn't hate morning like her younger Maestro did. Taking after Desmond, she often awoke at dawn, unless she was extremely sleep deprived.

In this case, she didn't feel horrible, despite her night, and reached for water to suck it down. She didn't reject water as badly as other things, and she found her thirst quenched quickly, a good sign.

“Are you talking to Nathaniel?” she asked, as Desmond entered the sleeping area.

“I was,” he said. “He's fine. But it's almost full dawn and we need to be downstairs soon. Can you get ready quickly?”

“Are we checking out?” she asked him, eyeing the items she had basically thrown on the floor. “Should I pack?”

“It's the best idea,” he said, although he had a feeling that they would not be leaving tonight. With the discovery of these children, this mission was turning into much more than a buying excursion

They were out the door within ten minutes, and down the stairs into the small lobby. Sure enough, the children were all waiting, yawning, but ready to go.

“Hi,” said one of the children who Desmond played jacks with yesterday. “You are coming with us?”

“I'd like to meet your Pedro,” Desmond replied. “He seems like a nice person.”

“Desmond.” Sienna leaned into him, and he turned to her in alarm. He knew that lean well, and it usually ended badly.

“Sit.” He pointed to a broken down chair. In a mess of children, though, there was no way it went unnoticed. They gathered around her, squeaking in alarm.

“What is it?”

“What's wrong?”

“What's happening?”

Desmond desperately wished for the bond then, so he could find out in peace. But he knew it was off-limits, and so he had to rely on his voice.

“Talk to me,” he said, as she went pale.

“Just…dizzy,” she said.

“We can fix it!” One of the children raced forward, magic on his fingertips. Desmond was quick to grab his small wrist gently.

“Don't,” he said. “You'll make her sicker.”

“That's not how magic works,” the boy replied. “Silly.”

“For her, it is,” Desmond answered. “So it's best if you don't. She's allergic to magic.”

That brought the conversation to a standstill. The boy looked up at Sienna with wide eyes.

“Aren't you a witch, though?”

“Hey, let go,” came a sudden voice from behind them. Desmond glanced up to a see a tall, dark and imposing figure standing behind him.

“You must be Pedro,” Desmond said, and the dark alien raised one of his four eyebrows.

“Yes?”

“We've been waiting to meet you,” he let go of the boy's wrist and rose. “My name is Desmond, and this is Sienna. Forgive her for not rising, she's not well at the moment.”

“And you are opposed to magical healing?” Pedro asked. “You're not one of those sorts, are you?”

“We are not,” Desmond assured him. “Please, allow me to start over. We're witches ourselves and we've been stranded here by a broken ship. When we met your…workers, we had to meet you.”

Sienna was surprised at the amount of information Desmond gave to the workhouse boss, but she figured that he must have a reason for it. If this was the amount of information that was needed to form trust, she figured it was all right.

“Why?” Pedro asked. “So you can steal them away?”

“No,” Desmond said. “Not if they don't want to go.”

“Ai,” Sienna doubled over. She didn't want to interrupt the conversation, but her head throbbed. She was about to tell Desmond that she wasn't going to be able to go with him, when Pedro spoke up.

“You think you're allergic to magic?”

“I—” She glanced to Desmond, who placed a gentle arm on her shoulder.

“She has the acridid gene,” he said. “Have you heard of it?”

Pedro's face softened at that. “Yes,” he said. “I have.”

Sienna picked up on something in his voice, and through her pain, managed a full sentence.

“You know someone with it?”

Pedro glanced to the children, who were eagerly awaiting his departure. “If you can make it,” he said. “You should come with us.”

No other information was offered, but Sienna's interest was piqued.

She had never met another person with the gene. They died young, unable to control their powers with the defects that raged in them. It was only thanks to her Maestros choices that she survived at all.

She reached out for Desmond, who carefully supported her as she rose.

“Let's go,” she said, her eyes a bit brighter than they were a moment ago.

Pedro clapped his hands, alerting the children that it was time to go. They gathered around him excitedly, and then followed him out in a large group.

Now that the door was open, she could see the storm had died down. It wasn't exactly warm out, but it wasn't cold, either. Sienna didn't fear her digits were going to fall off as they slowly walked.

“How is it possible?” she asked Desmond. “They must be very young.”

“How is it possible that he has this many magical beings that have gone under our radar?” Desmond asked back. “This place is full of mystery.”

“You have a plan?” Sienna asked.

“I always have a plan,” he answered. “For now, just focus on getting there.”

She set her jaw, watching the path ahead of her. She wasn't sure she was going to make it there, depending on how far it was, but she would try. To meet someone else who endured what she went through was a thought that moved her feet, despite the hardship. She hadn't realized how alone she felt, until that very moment.

Chapter 12

The workhouse was larger than either of them had pictured.

“What is it that you make?” Desmond asked, as they walked. Sienna had managed to get a handle on her pain, although she was still lingering quite close.

“Ship parts,” Pedro said and Sienna's eyes widened.

“Really?”

“Really,” the alien replied. “Of all types. I imagine I can help you, if you are who you say you are.”

Desmond flicked his wrist, displaying a stream of white magic.

“What can we do?” he asked, and Pedro nodded.

“I see.”

He opened the door to the large building, and the children flooded in.

“Why do you use children?” Desmond asked. “With magic? I'm not criticizing, please, I'm just curious.”

“These children are orphans,” Pedro said. “Families destroyed by war, by illness, by poverty. I cannot afford to set up a place for them without a return. We all must make a living. But none of them are forced here. We've gamified most of the process so they don't feel like they are working, and magical ability makes the work go must faster than machines, so it's two birds with one stone. They love coming here. They love working. Their quarters weren't safe during such a storm, so I put them up in the hotel, which will hurt profits, but I do take care of them.”

“And they…must stay?”

“Do you think I'm a monster?” Pedro raised an eyebrow. “They stay because they want to. But if they want to leave, I make sure they have another place to go, a plan. I'm not just going to let children wander off into the galaxy.”

“Hmm,” Desmond replied, as he looked around the workhouse. Sure enough, everything was gamified, as Pedro had said. There were giant screens, targets, points, and it seemed, even prizes. This was not at all what he thought it was. The children were excitedly tying on protective gear, large grins on their faces.

“And as for you,” Pedro said, to Sienna. “Come with me, up the stairs, if you can.”

He pointed to a large office that overlooked the workhouse floor. Sienna carefully gripped the railing, following him up the metal staircase. Pedro opened the door to the office, a casual smile on his face.

“Davine,” he said, as a light skinned, white eyed alien turned toward them, from typing on a tablet. “There's someone I'd like you to meet.”

Sienna could see the signs at once, the damage the gene tried to do. The alien had magic, certainly, but it was suppressed, and she was alive. She was a Cratian species, which meant her age was counted on her arms, in rings. Each ring represented ten years, and Sienna quickly calculated that the alien was almost a hundred.

How could that be? These gene killed. It destroyed in a matter of months sometimes.

“I'll leave you to it,” Pedro said, grabbing a binder and heading down to the floor.

Sienna paused, looking to Desmond, who understood her confusion.

“I'm sorry for bursting in,” Desmond picked up the conversation. “Pedro has brought us to you because he says that you suffer from the acridid gene, the same as Sienna. We are witches, trained and…operating.”

The alien's brow furrowed but she smiled, pointing to a few spare chairs. “Please, have a seat,” she said. “How wonderful.”

“I'm sorry for my shock.” Sienna said. “Have you survived as long as I think you have?”

“About a hundred human years?” Davine asked, with a smile. “Yes. And how old are you?”

“Not even twenty,” Sienna answered. “How? How have you done it?”

Davine leaned back in her chair.

“Oh, my dear. You've had a rough time at it, haven't you?”

“We've had extensive management plans,” Desmond said. “She is better now than she was, functional most days.”

Davine flickered her gaze to Desmond. “Are you her father?”

“Her Maestro,” he replied. “One of two. As you can imagine, this is a special case.”

“That's right, you said you were operating witches. Although the magic must make you so sick.” Davine turned back to Sienna.

“It did, when I used it.”

“And now you've stopped?”

“Suppressed it,” she said. Davine crossed two of her six arms.

“Chemically?”

“Yes,” Sienna said. “And you?”

“I stopped breathing oxygen,” Davine said, and Sienna's jaw fell open.

“I'm sorry?”

“Here,” the alien put her hand on her chest. “It was Pedro's invention, long ago. It's a converted part, actually. Are you knowledgeable in ship parts?”

“I am,” Sienna answered.

“The oxygen diverter, the calibrator,” Davine said “He re purposed one from a one-man scooter to work in the opposite fashion, replacing my lungs. Everything that comes in is converted to chemical, non-breathable components in most species. Except for us...”

“It's gold,” Sienna said, glancing at the hint of scarring peeking out from the top of her shirt.

“No oxygen, no natural process, no attacks,” Davine replied.

“How long ago did you do that?”

“About fifty years,” Davine answered. “And no problems ever since.”

Sienna turned to Desmond, who was doing calculations in his head.

“That is quite the advanced process,” he said. “I'm impressed.”

“So was I,” she replied. “But then, when Pedro wants to help, he finds away.”

“I'm humanoid,” Sienna replied. “It maybe wouldn't…”

“It maybe wouldn't work,” Davine confirmed. “You are correct. But what's the alternative for your life expectancy?”

“I—” Sienna didn't have an answer to that question, and the alien smiled.

“This is heavy conversation for the moment. Perhaps we can talk about it later?”

“Yes.” Sienna glanced to Desmond, and he wondered what was spinning her young mind. Was she already planning such an intense operation? Would it even work on her?

And would it give her the freedom she needed to move away from the witch lifestyle?

None of these questions could be answered right there, but Sienna had hoped she would find out when they walked out of the office and went to look for Pedro.

Both of them tried not to stare, but watching the children use their magic in such ways was memorizing

“They should be in school,” Desmond said. “Being trained.”

“You want to tell them,” she said. “You want to take them with you?”

“Certainly not all of them,” Desmond replied. “Especially with Eliza's quest under way. But we could find a way, if they wanted. They have to want to come, since there are no parents involved.”

“Do you remember your parents?” she asked Desmond, and he shook his head.

“No. Do you?”

“No,” she said. “I barely remembered Jeffro until we went back…But it clearly wasn't either of our choices.”

He looked to her and she didn't seem upset. She was simply observing as they walked.

She stopped when they came to one conveyor belt. The children were following a gamified version of making a mold, shrieking with excitement when they got the plastic into the perfect shape.

“Those are the coils,” Sienna said, as she stepped forward. Her eyes cast to the rest of the belt, and she saw everything that they needed. “Here, Desmond. If we can buy it off him, we can leave this afternoon.”

“Are you sure?” Desmond pulled out their tablet and checked his list. He was not quite as good as Sienna with parts, and he made sure to tell her so. She shrugged.

“There's lots of time to learn things when you can't practice spells,” she said.

Just then, Pedro swept up behind them.

“Did you have a good conversation upstairs?”

“We did,” Sienna replied. “Thank you. I have a lot to look into.”

“It appears you are looking into my stock,” Pedro answered, one eyebrow raised. “Both my parts and my workers.”

Desmond glanced to Sienna.

“They should know,” he said. “They should know of their options in life. The school is not for the rich or privileged If they are magically inclined, they will be tested.”

“And put to a series of rigorous tests for the rest of their lives, traveling around to save others with their Maestros and get no say in the matter,” Pedro's words were harsh, but his tone was quiet. He had clearly done more research into this than anyone was letting on. “Isn't that so?”

Sienna couldn't deny that she often had no say as to where they went most days. If there was a quest for Jeffro, she was usually on it, but aside from that, she went whoever they told her to.

“Look,” Pedro lowered his voice. “I know you think that you are coming in here and being a white knight, taking these children off to a better life and I'm just some horrible slave driver. But I actually care about them – their futures, their lives. I'm not sending them off to some nameless place where they will be just a number, a statistic.”

“It's not like that,” Desmond tried to argue.

“Do I have your personal assurance?” Pedro asked. “That if you take one or two of my best, you will personally take care of them?”

“I will of course keep an eye on…”

“That's not what I meant,” Pedro replied, looking between him and Sienna. “I never had a family of my own. I don't want them randomly checked in upon as you pass them in the hallway.”

“I—” Desmond paused. “What would you like me to do?”

“If they go with you, if they want to, they become your responsibility,” Pedro said. “You have to assure me.”

“You have someone in mind,” Desmond said. “I can tell by your tone.”

Pedro sighed. “There are two,” he said. “Who have dreams of your school. No matter what they hear about it, they still dream. There are so many that have talent, but some want to stay here. I don't want to hold them back. I just want to make sure they are taken care of.”

“If you sell us the parts we need,” Sienna put in. “We can transport them there, put in a good word, and work to make sure they have the best futures.”

“They will be trained?”

“There's no promise of that,” Sienna replied. “They would have to pass entrance exams, blood work…and then it's hard work, even then.”

“But with your gene, they train you?” Pedro asked.

Sienna took a step back. “I'm…”

“Sienna was one of the most powerful witches to ever enter the school,” Desmond said. “No one had seen power like hers in centuries. She could do at the drop of a hat what others only dreamed of.”

“And now?”

Sienna looked down at the floor, stepping back. Desmond resisted the urge to put an arm around her, to point out all the accomplishments she had done over the past two days without any magic at all.

“And now, she finds other ways,” Desmond answered.

Pedro nodded.

“Of course. Davine lives a normal life, she…”

“I could resurrect the dead!” Desmond had not expected a sudden outburst from her. It was out of character. He whipped his head around, to see tears flowing down her face. “No one else could do that. I could save lives. I could return people to this world. I could read minds as easily as breathing. Except I couldn't eat, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't sleep. My choice had to be that my life was worth more than those I could save, and how can I make that choice? This is the only way I can keep working, without perishing. There is no normal life.”

“Sienna!” Desmond said in alarm, but she turned and stormed off. He watched her go, her shoulders shaking and let out a deep sigh. “I'm sorry. She's been...”

“Please apologize to her,” Pedro said. “I did not mean to upset her.”

“I don't think it's you,” Desmond answered, looking around the factory. There was so much magic, so much potential, so much hope. Each of these children could go on to save thousands, if not millions of lives if they were properly trained.

It would be a hard case to make to the Jurors. Some were too old, others were ruffians without the class and elegance that was needed, perhaps without the discipline They knew their lives. They knew what they considered their families. They had been using magic for years, untrained, and it would be hard to put them in line with what the Jurors achieved. He would have to make one of the best cases every presented.

And he knew one of the first things the Jurors would point out is that he did not have the time, could not devote the attention when his Tiro required daily care.

The lives of many versus the lives of the few weighed heavily on his shoulders. He did not always believe in everything that Jurors dictated, or everything the Order said. But he did believe in doing only good with magic, in serving Nature and saving lives. He believed in a power higher than himself, and he believed that they were created to be the guardians of the galaxy.

The time was now, he realized, to move on.

“You will have my personal assurance,” Desmond said. “That any of the children who come with us will be taken care of, by me. I may not train them, but I will be their mentor, their go-to.”

“That, I can live with,” Pedro said, holding out a hand. Desmond shook it, his stomach sinking.

“I just have to talk to Sienna,” he said. “And then I will meet with those who you think would like to come.”

Chapter 13

Sienna had retreated to the top level of the factory, passed the offices and up into a tiny attic loft. It had a glassed in roof, and now that the storm had stopped, the sun was shining through. It was as close to nature as they could get on this frozen planet. Her tears were half dried as she titled her face toward the sun, her eyes closed.

Even if her body didn't agree with Nature, her heart longed for it all the time. She felt at peace with the sunshine, the hope of growth and renewal.

Desmond approached quietly, his heart thudding nearly out of his chest as he watched her for a moment. He knew this was the right thing to do, but already he could see the ramifications slammed in his face.

He wished Mariah were here. She had a way with words. She could say anything without upsetting someone and always put a positive spin on things. Desmond would have thought that all the years of diplomacy and negotiation would come in handy for times like this, but he was at a loss.

“Hi,” she said, hearing his footsteps. “I'm sorry. It just…”

“It's all right,” he said quietly. “It's been a hard few days.”

She smiled, wiping away a tear. “But it's not very witch-like.”

“Sienna.” He sighed and looked around. There was a window ledge that was big enough and he gestured for them to both sit. She did without question, leaning against the cool glass. “There is something I've wanted to speak to you about.”

“Mm?” she asked. She was relaxing, her tears drying, and that made it worse.

He never thought he'd have to say the words that tumbled out of his mouth. He had sworn he'd never abandon a Tiro after Reynolds Sienna was his idea, his commitment.

The best course of action was simply to tumble out the facts before his heart took over.

“You and I both know that you will never pass the tests, as hard as you try and as gifted as you are,” he said quietly. “I have long perceived that you would never become a full working witch. Our paths are no longer linked, little one.”

Silence filled the room. Her jaw unhinged.

“I'm sorry?” she asked, hoping she had misunderstood.

“You know this as truth,” he said at last. “And these last few days have shown us both that you have so much talent in other areas. I have to serve Nature, Sienna, and none of us can do that while we remain stagnant.”

The tears welled up again.

“Desmond—” she started. He took her hands but she pulled back. “No. You promised. You said…”

“I know.” He sighed. “I know, and I have tried everything I could to make it work.”

“Is this about the children downstairs? The new potential? The shiny new misfits that you can take?”

“It is about them,” he said, surprising her. “And all the others, around the galaxy. You have a bright future ahead of you, and I can assist you in finding a place to benefit your skills. You have so many other talents, there are so many paths you can take. But, little one, being a witch is not one of them. Not if you want to live.”

“You can't—” Her jaw quivered. “You can't leave me. You can't…”

“I don't want to,” he said. “But we are doing a disservice to Nature itself if we keep up this charade. Magic is not about you, or I, or our feelings. It's about serving the galaxy.”

“Am I not serving the galaxy?” she cried out with a sob.

“You are,” he assured her. “And you have been the most wonderful gem of a Tiro, the strongest I know. You are serving and protecting, assisting in peace in this war-torn place. But not as a witch. And you have to accept that.”

“You can take me off the drugs,” she bargained “You can—”

“No,” he said. “I want you to live, Sienna. I want you to translate, to negotiate, to bring peace to the planets you visit. I want you to work beside royals and commoners alike. I want you to use the gift you were given to find the words others can't. I want you to thrive, to breathe. You said yourself you could do none of those things on magic. Isn't that right?”