As Nori swung the peephole open, a circle of gold light displayed a shivering bundle of mittens, scarves, and wooly hats.
“I'm looking for Master Caithwaite,” said the bundle. Her high voice revealed her to be a girl. She rooted around in her pockets for several minutes, numb fingers fumbling.
“He's asleep.”
She held up a worn paper bearing an impressive purple seal. “Can I at least come in and get warm?”
“Sure, sure.” Nori hopped down from his perch and lifted the heavy beam, then heaved the door open. Snow rushed in, dusting the rug with damp fluff, rapidly melting into slush.
The girl stepped in and hopped from foot to foot, stomping ice and snow from her boots.
The rug was getting soggy.
“This way.” Lantern held above them, Nori led her to a cozy sitting room with a fireplace so big you could walk into it, and so hot you would definitely not want to.
Once he saw her settled in a plush maroon chair, her boots on a rack by the fire for drying, he went to see about rousing the master.
“A girl?” Caithwaite mumbled into his robe. “I thought all the students were in for the winter.”
“She had a magistrate's seal.” Nori couldn't read, but he knew the purple wax and the winged starburst with two crossed crescents. “Besides, sir, it's below freezing out there.”
“Right, Nori. You did right. Bring the child some tea and I'll be down as soon as I've changed.”
Nori did as he was asked, arranging the homemade cakes and crackers just so around two hot mugs of cinnamon tea. With a proud smile, he added a stick of cinnamon to each mug and a sprig of decorative holly on the edge of the tray. “Festive,” he said to himself in his low, rumbling voice.
The girl seemed to appreciate his efforts, drinking down the tea as quickly as she could without burning her tongue. By the time Caithwaite joined her by the fire, she had eaten most of what was on the tray.
“A magistrate's seal,” the master said, voice booming, fully Master of the Tower now, despite his mussed hair and the bits of sleep crust still pricking the corners of his eyes.
Dropping what was left of her snack, the girl jerked to attention at the sound of his voice. “Yes, sir.” She hastily produced the document. “My name is Jiarra Morrow, sir. I have an artifact of great importance, and as its messenger-”
“My, you talk fast.” Caithwaite stifled a yawn. “Hold on and let me read this.” He took the paper from her and sat in the armchair across from hers.
Jiarra sat on her hands to keep from fidgeting.
“By order of the High Magistrate Sethir Cassos Onkamen, the bearer of this missive is granted expedient access through all borders, and entry to all holdings under magistrate power. She is to be swiftly delivered of her charge to the east Mage Tower on Circle Stone. Any who attempt to impede her progress or assault her person or possessions in any way will face punishment by the First Magisterial Guard.”
When he had finished reading, Caithwaite dropped the paper onto the table between them. “Sethir has such a high-handed use of language. But it seems in order. Now tell me – slowly – what you're doing here.”
Pointed chin lifted, Jiarra said, “The Magistrate sent me to deliver an artifact of great magical power. East Circle Stone is the obvious choice to study it, given its reputation.” Caithwaite waved the compliment aside. “You're to study the artifact and report back to the Magistrate, and accept me as a scholar to your tower.”
“You? What are your qualifications?”
“The Magistrate has already reviewed my qualifications. I am to stay here and study the artifact.”
Caithwaite wanted to argue this point, but it was late. Or early, rather. “Show me this artifact.”
With very little ceremony and much eagerness, Jiarra lifted her heavy pack – soaked through with melted snow – onto her lap and tugged open the leather straps. She pulled out a ball of sweaters, socks, and a thick blanket, which she untied, the layers falling away one by one, revealing a pulsing glow that lit the soft curves of the girl's face, washing her dark olive skin an eerie green.
When all the swaddling fabric had been tugged away, she held up the artifact in cupped palms. It was a sphere made of old world glass – full of warps and distortions. A chipped stone base tucked close to the sphere allowed it to stand on its own without rolling away. Jiarra set it on the table amidst the cake crumbs and empty mugs. Inside the sphere was another sphere, translucent but for a black crackle pattern that made it nearly impossible to see what was inside. The wavering green light rippled between the crackle designs, casting watery reflections on the walls and ceiling.
The magistrate's missive dropped from Caithwaite's fingers, completely forgotten on the floor. The two of them stared at the object, green lights shining in their eyes. Even Nori leaned in from the doorway where he had not been eavesdropping to gaze, open-mouthed, at the shining glass orb.
“Well,” Caithwaite finally said, licking his dry lips. “That's certainly interesting.”
