From: bmccnnll@unix1.tcd.ie (Barry McConnell)
Subject: Chapter 1 of a story by a friend
Organization: Trinity College, Dublin
Date: Fri, 21 Aug 1992 22:20:49 GMT

I am posting this story on behalf of a friend who doesn't have Usenet access.
Any comments would be appreciated; if you could leave them in my mailbox
(bmccnnll@unix1.tcd.ie), I'll see that he gets them... I personally liked this
story, and would be interested to see what other users have to say.

BTW It apparently runs to ten chapters or so. The final nine have yet to be
written... :-)  The first chapter is long enough to be worth posting anyway.
Oh, and while I'm at it (this isn't one of the groups I normally read), I guess
I should include the standard:

Copyright 1992 Niall Murphy


Chapter One


There was something stirring in the forest.

Eirvane had calculated that if any ambush attempt was to be made on herself
and the equipment she carried, it would be made in this section of territory.
Still, there was no way to avoid crossing this forest without introducing
unacceptable delays, and no way to prepare without drawing undue attention.

She reined up calmly, and listened. There were faint moving traces of heat
against the cold background of the leaves. It was an error not to have used
Infravision earlier, but no advantage was to be gained by dwelling on it now.

She rapidly constructed an imaginary dodecahedron around her, taking into
account the probable positions of the enemy as the endpoints. The quicker the
fireball took effect, the better.

A new kind of murmuring mixed with the wind through the trees. Then there was
a muted explosion, and a fierce, if brief, backlash of heat. Where other
people would have noted the blistered and scorched corpses of the enemy with
satisfaction, or perhaps regret, Eirvane was pleased to see her fireball had
had a near maximum yield ratio. This episode had delayed her approximately
three minutes- only 3% loss from her estimated time of arrival.

Eirvane rode on. After the last display, she stood only a nominal chance of
further interference.

*

Eirvane is a dusky twilight in skin colour. (Her grey mother had been raped by
an agressive drow raiding party when her mother's entourage got lost in a dark
forest.) She is tall- six feet, which is tall even for a elf female, but
weighs only 136 pounds; slender, yet average for the elven phenotype. Her face
is impassive as a rule, born out by unblinking green eyes and a severe mouth.
Her hair shades towards the blonder side of white, especially at the ends:
another throwback from her ancestry.

Eirvane's somewhat slight figure belies a wirey strength, yet her limbs are
still supple enough for acrobatic combat maneuvers. However, her early
upbringing was not conducive to the development of a resilient stamina. In
appearance, Eirvane would conventionally be considered very attractive, were
it not for her mode of conduct and dress. Our heroine invariably wears a
shapeless grey robe over her armor, and ties her hair back tightly (eliminates
problems when spellcasting). While not a strict monotone, Eirvane's voice has
rythmic regulatity and precision, but never carries powerful emotional
undertones or fervour.

*

Eirvane and her twin sister, Merilla, were the unfortunate product of the
brutal rape of Illistal Cequornon, an elven noble, fifth rank. Illistal had
recently been presented to the elven court to assume her relatively minor
position in Court society. She was still perceived by many as a young and
flightly adolescent; a mere 110 years old.

When the poor wench dragged herself home from the rape, she had the entire
elven community united in uproar at the desecration. Elven mores and protocol
dictated that the girl herself was in no way at fault- and so she, should not
be held accountable. But such loftly ideals counted for little in the socially
sensitive and discreetly predatory Court; when Courtier's lives span a
milennia, they have to reluctantly accept such phenomena but they never
forget. While Illistal retained her formal court honours and appointments, she
slowly metamorphosed into a social pariah: outcast, untouchable. No approaches
from the ranks of the "suitable" elven young gentlemen were ever made, and
invitations to debutanths balls somehow evaded her. In time, Illistal came to
hate her swollen abdomen and saw it as tangible evidence of that violent night
which had destroyed her life. Over the three years while she carried her
infants to term, she watched, helplessly, as the glorious vista of her future
career as social luminary shrank- and vanished.

Her own family's reponse was the unkindest cut in a series of sharp reminders.
One of the Court's most rigid, unwritten rules was that of collective
responsibilty: the Alersed clan would have to bear the brunt of Illistal's
visible stigma, unless they acted ruthlessly. To protect the clan position in
court, Illistal was gradually distanced from the high society she craved.
Illistal saw her hopes of ever rejoining the aristocracy waning before her, as
the full moon of her stomach waxed. But she was powerless to resist the mighty
workings of the invisible machine that was elven gentility.

*

The birth was not an easy one, and Illistal remained in labour for 36 hours-
were it not for the attending clerics, she would surely have perished in the
struggle. While her body was in the final act of creating this new life, her
only thoughts were of destruction, and thus her salvation. Her hopes finally
ended a few hours after the birth when she was presented with her two very
much alive babies. Illistal was emotionally and mentally unable to deal with
this crushing blow, and severe post-natal depression overtook her. As an
unwilling single mother, Illistal continued to feel no compulsion to love the
new-born infants, but mechanically went through the motions of caring for
them. As the children grew, Illistal was forced to accept her new role, but
became increasingly bitter and resentful. The young mother tried hard to learn
to love her children, and succeeded to some extent with Merilla. As soon as
Eirvane began to grow, Illistal felt a sour tidal wave of jealousy rise within
her- Eirvane was practically identical to her unfortunate, doomed, mother.
Illistal realised quickly that the same rigid protocol that had denied her her
birthright would not stand in the way of Eirvane assuming the position that
Illistal herself had tried so hard to reach. All of her stolen dreams and
illusions had been transferred to Eirvane, and she could not make herself love
the child.

Eirvane's living memory was a constant irritant to the mother, whereas
Merilla's refreshing difference was one relief from daily life. Where Eirvane
was too tall, Merilla just right; Eirvane adequate, Merilla stunning, in looks
at least. As the twins grew, a marked difference in their mother's attitude to
each became apparent. Merilla was constantly encouraged and assisted in the
proper development for a young elven lady. She was seen at the right occasions
with the right people, as her mother wistfully watched on. Eirvane, however,
was coerced into study and afforded little opportunity to socialise.

Even as a child, Eirvane could not understand her mothers cold and harsh
attitude to herself yet obvious endearment to Merilla. Eirvane felt that she
must be doing something wrong. She had evidently failed in some way, so, of
course, she must try harder to please her mother.

*

At the age of thirty, Eirvane finally realised that her mother's attitude to
her was not based on her performance. The two girls were privately tutored at
the Fievern Institute. Eirvane's enforced academic regime at home ensured she
was effectively two years ahead of Merilla. One evening Merilla came to her
sister's study.

There came a respectful knock at the door. Eirvane sighed, and placed several
heavy books to one side. She wasn't really awake enough to understand what she
was reading effectively, anyway. Besides, to talk to her sister instead of the
ghosts of dead historians would be a change. Her mother never knocked.

"Come in."

Merilla entered, timid yet strong.

"Eirvane, I'm in such trouble you wouldn't believe! A poor little girl like
myself, who never meant any harm to anyone. If Serus catches me tomorow, I'm
dead!"

The words came out in a rush, scattered, yet still connected and in control.

Eirvane regarded her sister, unfazed, but with a slight smile.

"What is it you want, Merilla?"

Merilla sighed.

"Well, you see, I was out last night at Freeman Lascinian's- you know, the
Alpanian ball? It was brilliant! I have to tell you about it later, but- well,
that old decrepit Serus gave me a difficult perception exercise in poetry, and
it has to be completed and in by noon tomorrow. I should have been preparing
it all last week, but things got in the way."

Eirvane nodded. She knew well what got in the way- Freeman Lascinian's body.

"Anyway, I was wondering, could I have yours just to take a few starting off
ideas from? I know you have it, because you were looking at it a few weeks
ago. I'll only have it for a day or so, I promise."

Merilla looked hopeful.

"There's no need to try to gentle coercion method on me that you use on your
suitors, Merilla," said Eirvane. "I know you too well for that. Yes, you can
have it. On the condition that you do tell me about this ball, because I am
interested. Be careful not to copy it exactly though. He has a sharp memory,
and he's been known to spot copied exercises from months back."

Eirvane gestured to her desk. "I'll dig it out in a minute. Hold on.".

*

One week later, at the end of that term the two girls returned home. Eirvane's
predictably high marks received their usual commendation from her mother- "Oh,
well done dear." and proceeded to spend the next hour discussing Merilla's
hectic social life.

Eirvane retired to her bedroom, but was summoned down again a mere ten minutes
later by her ecstatic mother.

"Eirvane dear! Look at what dear Merilla has done! The highest honours grade
in poetry appreciation for two years, and from that old crony, Serus too! But
read it! Isn't a work of art! Such depth of feeling in someone so young! I
simply must have it mounted. How can she understand isolation so well?"

Eirvane woodenly responded: "Yes mother." and made all the appropiate murmurs
while her mother raved on about Merilla's wonderous work. After half an hour
even she could take no more and she asked to retire and did so without her
mother even noticing. Merilla, however, noticed Eirvane's departure but was
too busy trying to wheedle the last concession possible out of her mother in
exchange for having produced such a pihce de resistance.

*

Eirvane sat alone in her room, staring blankly at the wall. Her eyes bright
with potential tears. Never had her mother's bias been so clearly obvious as
it was now. She recalled the fist of ice that closed around her heart when her
mother praised Merilla for her work. She looked down through blurred vision at
the deep impressions in her palms and remembered digging her nails in as she
swore to herself "I will not cry." It was the hardest thing she had ever done
in her life, and she made a solemn oath that it would never happen again.
Trusting people, liking people, loving people were all too dangerous. She had
never realised before how much it could hurt. She thought of her instinctive
reaction downstairs to stop the pain. She remembered telling herself
everything was all right, because she didn't care. These people couldn't hurt
her feelings as long as she didn't have any to hurt. It had been a painful
lesson, but a worthwhile one, she saw. If she could present an impassive face
to the world and so distance herself from other people then the pain would not
be able to break down the facade between her outside appearance and the real
her.

*

Merilla left the house with a skip in her stride and an exultant beam on her
face. She had done it! Not only had she got the promise of a flat off campus
for next year, she had even got her living allowance doubled. She thought for
a moment about who she knew would be having a party tonight and headed towards
Sylvestrie's residence- her parents were away- it promised to be another
"party of the decade". She realized her good fortune would make her one of the
leading social lights of the next term. And what more could a girl want?-
apart from Freeman Lascinian. Fleetingly, she thought of her sister's plight
and pangs of shame and guilt pained her. But only superficially. Whenever
bothersome thoughts came Merilla's way, she usually had little difficulty in
relegating them to some dark corner of her hindbrain. Merilla knew what she
had done was wrong, but it wasn't so wrong that she felt a compulsion to set
matters right immediately. She would make it up to her sister... eventually.

*

Akaam Pressiun, the High Professor of the Institute, had told the year that
their third and final decade in the college would be the most crucial.
Standing there, Merilla felt the director's speech flood over her, a tide of
noble ideals, and as ever, she was swayed by the tide. Deep in her heart,
Merilla knew that while she might resolve to work harder, dawdle less, and
trult apply herself, this effect of the speech would dwindle and die. The
words would remain, but the emotions would fade when actually faced with
reading the entire collected works of Karulialis the philosopher-king.

Eirvane concentrated intently on the speech, and was somewhat gratifified to
note at the end that the head had made nearly a dozen grammatical errors. The
content of his speech left her completely unmoved, surrounded by flowery
rhetoric and poetic allusions. Never again would she be manipulated or
motivated by other people. She would achieve what she wished to achieve and
for her own reasons.

As the first year progressed, Eirvane was finally able to devote most of her
energies to the one subject that she truly enjoyed. Every one of her elective
subjects was of a pure, or applied mathematical nature- unheard of in the
institute. Elvish communities encouraged the humanities- philosophy, political
science, law and history. These were the tools that enabled the young ladies
of the ruling classes to become a force in political society. Mathematics was
not merely useless, it was also lacking in room for individuality. How could
anything be more mundane? Eirvane ignored all advice to the contary, and
pursued her aims. To her,m mathematics had a crystalline beauty.- everything
fitted together in a wonderful latticework of iron-clad rules with no
uncertainties or exceptions. Unlike her home life, the world of mathematics
was a stable and unchanging place, where she could always seek refuge.

*

As a result  of her unique choices, Eirvane spent three-quarters of each day
with Twelfth Professor Holme. He was a short, middle-aged elf of about 500
years, and not a particularly effective teacher: he tended to concentrate more
on what he was teaching than on what the class was doing. His saving grace was
his true genius for mathematics. While other students played dice, wrote poems
and made origami shapes, Eirvane paid rapt attention. Her sole complaint was
the pedestrian pace of the class. The others took so long to comprehend the
simplest of ideas. As the importance of the sphere of maths grew in her life,
the significance of the extrerior world faded into the background. She took
shorter and shorter breaks from the institute at home, even spending some
holidays in the college library. By the end of the second year, she was easily
capable of taking her Final Examinations, and passing with distinction.

During one of these short recesses at home, Eirvane noted dispassionately her
mother's constant edginess while she was around. On the strength of her
perfect scores in maths, Eirvane managed to convince her mother that
accomodation on campus would help foster her ability. The palpable relief on
her mother's relief when she ceded to Eirvane's request gave Eirvane a sense
of cold satisfaction. She had managed to manipulate her mother for the first
time.

*

Time sped by; it seemed as if there were not enough hours in the day for
Eirvane to grapple with the intricacies of tensor calculus. The books in the
library were limited in their capacity to help her now. She became more and
more frustrated at the inadequacies and shallow perception of their authors.
Holme saw her obvious annoyance and not only gave her individual tuition but
also allowed her access to his own collection of books. She excited his mind
for the first time in a long, long while. He had never tutored a genius
before, and with painful clarity realised he probably never would again. He
thought back to his own inital frustrations and discoveries, and was
sympathetic.

*

Merilla, as ever, chose the easiest course she could and proceeded to slide,
rather than grind, her way through the year. She had chosen subjects on the
basis of professors known to be subsceptible to the batting of a well-formed
eyelid and the rustling of a short robe.

"Ehmm, I'm terribly sorry sir, but my mother and I had an argument last night
and I just couldn't concentrate." Merilla lowered her head and bit her lips.
She'd never tried this one before- there was a good possibility of it working.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that." The tutor seemed sorry , and his expression
was a study in careful, predatory concern.

Merilla raised her head despairingly. "I promise I'll have it for you by next
week."

"That's no problem, Merilla. I'm sure I can accomodate you."

I'm sure you'd love tothought Merilla.

While not excelling in her academic career, Merilla was always in the elite
group of the college society. She threw all of her considerable willpower into
organising and hosting the most opulent and entertaining gatherings for all
aspiring beautiful people. She was elected president of the prestigious
Debutante Ball committee. Not only was this a salaried position, it also gave
her the powers of life and death over the social existence of most college
inmates. Somehow, she managed to laugh herself to sleep every night. At the
same time, she fixed on Lascinian as her future suitor. He was unaware his
freedom would shortly end. For the first time in her life, Merilla did
thoroughly apply herself: she formulated a devious, versatile and thorough
campaign strategy to win over the young noble. Lascinian was bombarded by a
series of invitations to the most refined and select gatherings- always as the
partner of Merilla. She took great pains to be the perfect escort. She was
witty, charming and convincing. She flattered his ego outrageously, but he
seemed to take her praise at face value: it was not a true marraige of equal
minds but rather one of discreet advancement.

When their engagement was announced in the fifth year, her mother's joy was
complete. Illistal almost seemed to live again, through her smiling daughter.
The customary long engagement of elves allowed both mother and daughter to
savour the anticipation of the forthcoming marraige- exquisitely.

*

Between Eirvane and Professor Holme, the standard teacher/student relationship
no longer existed. Like two equals, they spent their time together, pressing
ever onwards in the pursuit of undreamed of discoveries. One of Eirvane's
greatest achievements was to resolve the inherent paradox in number theory, in
a paper which was subsequently published, but not mounted on her mother's
wall. Strangely, while the innovators were seldom apart, their talk was
invariably of their first love and never of each other. Holme was slightly in
awe of this unusual, rather formal student, and so never broached any delicate
subjects with her. It never even occurred to Eirvane that he might want to
know more about her, or her family- her family were unimportant in this new
world of logic, and she had no personal life.

One morning, after an uninspiring lecture, Holme invited Eirvane back to his
offices. It was not an unusual event for the two. Sometimes they even had
breakfast together, but this was different: Holme locked the door, bade
Eirvane sit down, and did so himself in silence for some minutes. Eirvane read
his face as slightly worried and straining, as if looking for the best words
for something.

Finally, he took out several loose sheets of paper and tossed them on the desk.

"Here is the solution we've been looking for to second-order differentiation."

Eirvane paused. He sounded as if he was testing the water for some heavy
object that might sink.

"Go on. Take a look at it."

Eirvane picked the sheets up. The first sheet introduced a few simple concepts
she was already familiar with, the second sheet expanded on those, and then
the third drew a stunning analogy with another aspect of calculus. It was
good- not the whole solution, but a long part of the way towards it.

"Where did you get this?" she said. It was not his handwriting.

He started, then stopped.

"I belong to a society," he said, "that dedicates it's energy towards the
worship of a single deity. You might call him the personfication of logic, if
I was a blasphemer, but I am rather too highly placed to be a blasphemer."

Eirvane nodded. This was a new experience for her.

"I have been requested, no, demanded to bring you and your talent before the
entrance committee of my sect. You have made yourself felt in the world, my
dear, and people need your insight." He waited for a reaction, but none was
immediately forthcoming.

"At the end of next week, I would appreciate it if you would remain behind
after classes and come to my office again. There are some people who would
like to see you."

"I agree," said Eirvane softly. This was a real event, in the best sense of
the word.

"Keep one word in your mind before I must go, girl. I suppose I have already
told you too much, but the name of your future worship will be Polymathes.
Learn it well, and learn it silently."

*

Two months later, Eirvane could still scarcely believe what had happened. Her
induction into the cult of Polymathes had been speedy and painless. Since
then, life had not been so easy- she realised that she had never before really
been tested to her limits. The powers of concentration, perception, and
determination required by the abstruse concepts she had to struggle with were
immense. For the first time in her life she felt out of her depth. Alien
intelligences of a cult which spanned many worlds were all united under one
banner- mathematics. She had read the works of foreign intellects with
incredible knowledge, whose grasp of her beloved science made her look like a
mere child among mental giants. In a short time, she estimated she had
increased her own store of mathematical arcana twofold, but more importantly,
she now had an intuitive grasp, an insight, into the forces behind the world.
She felt she really understood.

But she quickly realised that mere comprehension was not enough. Mathematics
could not only describe the present forces at work, it could also describe how
she could manipulate these forces if she willed it so- to her own ends. Maths
was not a dry, useless skill but the method of turning comprehension into
control.

At the fundamental level this concerned the interaction of physical forces:
leverage, torque, pressure and others; raw physical strength would determine
how much one could alter. However, on a higher level, mental rather than
physical ability dominated. With one's mind, one could shape and use far more
potent forces than those available at a more mundane level. Magic was the key.
Mages used their grasp of abstract theories to release and control the
energies of the unseen worlds around them. They depended on their wits to
grapple successfully with the underlying concepts of the universe, to channel
magical forces which would mould the universe around their constructs. This
path required exceptional mental agility, and logic.

The alternative route was that of the cleric. She depended on her belief, not
her brains to shape the world. The more unshakeable her faith, the more
control she could exert. Rather than organising and coercing forces like a
mage, the cleric served as a conduit of her god's power. This meant she could
be far more powerful and far more limited than a mage. All of the cleric's
magic derived from her god and so was influenced by her god's strength's and
weaknesses. A god of death might allow his priest to use deadly magic, but
would not permit his follower to ressurrect people from the realms of the dead.

Eirvane saw no need to limit herself; she had all the necessary qualities for
what those paths required. They both had complementary strengths and so both
would serve her uses. It would be a long and difficult process to become both
a priest and a wizard, but she had nearly a milennia to learn. If anyone could
do it, Eirvane found no reason why she, who was considered eminently suitable,
could not.

*

Merilla lazed back in the lush green glade beside her fiances residence, and
delicately sipped the fine Uleke wine from her glass. She cast a propriatorial
eye around her and found all to her satisfaction. The marble exterior of the
mansion gleamed in the sunlight, and the gardens were immaculate. She silently
berated herself for not having done this years ago. Lascinian was so easily
influenced. Perhaps it was because he was so madly in love with her, she
thought fondly, as she glanced at the almost offensively expensive platinum
bracelet. Such adornments were traditional in elven engagements, but certainly
not of this size or craftsmanship. And to think of the riches yet to come!

Mirella calculated she could wheedle a pendant, a brooch and a ring: all at
least as ostentasiously costly as the one she bore now. It seemed almost
unwholesome for a person to smile constantly, but Merilla found it very
difficult to keep a self-satisfied smirk from her face. It was so delicious to
succeed where Sylvestrie, Elana and her other friends had abjectly failed. But
as she constantly told herself, the arrangement was by no means one-sided.
Lascinian would now have a most able guide to steer him through the
shark-infested waters of elvish high society. He could be so adorable, at
times, but she had to remember, before she let him deal with the people, that
he could be so naive. And as for letting those thieves talk him into funding
the scheme for piped water in the mansion? Well, really! Her heart rose in
indignation against those plotters and meddlers. She would protect him in
future.

*

Later, Merilla returned to the Institute for the last two years of her course
in History and Political Science. While her understanding of historical
implications of the first abdication by an elven king two centuries previously
may have been a little vague, she was secure in the knowledge that the
socially sensitive dean of the faculty could not afford to fail her.

One day, while walking along a corridor out of the building, something in the
way a friend of hers turned reminded her strongly of someone else that she
knew. It occupied her for some ten minutes as she tried desperately to recall
who it was; it came as a slight shock to her when she placed the movement as
being similar to her sister's. At this stage, she had not spoken to Eirvane in
any depth for more than a year and a half. Since both had seperate rooms and
seperate courses, there was little opportunity for them to meet, and both were
always busy. Merilla had seen almost nothing of her sister in the past two
months, and it suddenly dawned on her that she knew little of Eirvane's
progression in social, and other, fields. She knew for definite that Eirvane
was not moving in any circles anyway close to her, for she would have heard
it. Hardly any of her friends, for instance, knew that Merilla even had a
sister. They might have known thirty years ago at the very beginning, but a
memory like that needs constant contact to be reinforced, at least for the
people in her acquaintance.

Merilla smiled prettily as she thought of a way to add interesting spice to
the Debutante Ball night. Since she was in control of the invitee list and
their relative status on the night, it would be intriuging to see the reaction
of both Eirvane herself and Merilla's friends if her sister were announced
among the prestigious First Hundred list. After all, she did owe Eirvane for
that favour with old Serus.

*

The students in the halls of the Institute grew gradually more harried and
worried as the time grew closer to the final exams. Books were dropped with
increasing frequency, some friends snapped at each other more often and with
more feeling than usual, and the whole campus, it seemed, could feel the
presence of life-deciding exams closing. All except Eirvane.

Eirvane had timed the number of her public appearances so carefully that her
name or image crossed very few minds now. That was as it should be- these next
few weeks should not be a time of distractions, for she had much to complete
in her final dedications before leaving. And leave she must, because both her
independence and a still-as-yet vague plan that she had demanded it. It would
also be good psychologically for her to leave this unhappy place. The future
Eirvane could start out with a different outlook on life, and create a
different series of first impressions.

Unfortunately, there were a few obstacles to be overcome first. Number one,
the exams. This was but a minor challenge. It was a source of secret
satisfaction to herself that Eirvane could very possibly earn a scholarship to
anywhere she chose on the strength of one exam result alone. Holme had other
plans, but it was satisfying none the less. Number two, her family. Could her
biological mother legally prevent her from leaving home? She doubted it;
unfortunately there was no means of obtaining knowledge of this short of
actually performing the act. Anyway, she planned to be gone so quickly that a
gaurdian force could not find her. Perhaps changing her name would work be
advisable. Number three, the ball. A minor irritanant, since an outdated (but
heavily enforced) regulation required all candidates to spend at least a
minimum time of two hours so that the formalities could be completed. Other
girls might have been worried over dress concerns, or over who their partner
was/would be. Eirvane planned to treat the event with the contempt it
deserved. Since it was the last night the class would meet as a social entity,
there would be no recriminations either, which meant Eirvane could act as she
chose. It was a certainty that the night could be spent in more productive
ways that inefficently wasting body energy in time to air vibrations.

*

Merilla was in a tizzy. The night was cool and sumptuously dark, the air
refreshing to breathe and the decor inside just right to inspire envious
comment. The first crowds had just arrived, and she was gravely accepting all
the compliments laid at her feet with a small smile, just on the edge of
smugness. Having spent considerable time running around wildly shouting at
servants when something was not quite to her satisfaction, now she was ready
to sit back and enjoy the fruits of her hard labour. The entrance hall filled
up in twos, threes and sixes, all ready with a smile, nod or appreciative kiss
for Merilla. This was close to being the happiest night of Merilla's life so
far- it would be happier when Lascinian arrived and sprung the surprise the
transparent fool had been preparing for past week. She smiled again, and there
was a touch of the genuine to it. Merilla felt on top of the world, on top of
her classmates, on top of everything that life had thrown on her, and she had
still come out of the other side with a winning hand and a winning smile. She
was gleeful.

*

The main hall was acoustically sensitive, which meant that all of the nobles
and students present had to be uncharacteristically silent in order for the
traditional speeches to be heard. Perhaps the interest in the speeches
themselves wasn't quite so palpable as the shame of behaving improperly on
this, of all, nights.

Each young noble sat with their partner, usually in groups of six. Friends
tried to find places near to each other, and organising and booking seats were
often done on the basis of the number six, it being a tradition that no-one
knew of the origin. All seats were spread in a circle, facing a central dias,
where the speakers and announcers orated. Acoustically, nothing was lost- as
long as the audience was quiet.

Tonight, the audience was quiet. Only the secretive touchings of hands and the
slight rubbing of bodily parts against each other spoke volumes to those who
knew how to read them. Here a hundred marraiges were made and broken, lifelong
friendships cherished or dashed, determined enmities sworn or made up.
Eirvane, who had come late, unseen by Merilla, watched them all and felt
unmoved. Other people of her stamp might have felt pity, arrogance, or have
wept at their own seperateness, but she did not admit of such feelings, it
being only time-wasting in the end.

The speech seemed to end quickly enough, and then it was dinner time. Merilla
trotted off to the main table where all was smiles and laughter, and people
secretly eyeing each other up. Having sat down, she accepted the inevitable
flood of congratulations and paid no attention to what she ate. Being able to
see the secret glances and. thanks to her contacts, understand what they
meant, Merilla enjoyed the dinner far more than an outside observer would have
thought.

Such an observer was Eirvane. She ate on the end of a small table, and replied
politely to any neighbour's attempts to start conversation, but somehow it
never continued for long. A few people wondered out lous who she was, but
Eirvane did not oblige their open wishes. She wanted to slip away quietly, for
she had a long trip to make tomorrow, and then the exams.

After dinner, the beginnings of the dance. The elven tide gradually left the
tables and drifted in golden pairs back towards the main hall, where the music
and lights were already in place, if quite muted. Traditionally, the rite of
the one hundred names took place here, just before the dance, read out by the
First Professor. It was not a duty he savoured overmuch, that much was clear,
from the rather hurried and brusque manner in which he read out the names to
squeals and shouts from the encircled audience. On occasion, he had to lower
his glasses and glare quite openly at some of them so that he might continue
with the requisite amount of respect. Those he glared at, however, were
usually to flattered and joyous to have their night spoiled by a single gaze,
however intense, from him. Life went on as they mounted the steps and received
their scrolls.

Eirvane the watcher glanced at the clock tower. She had another two minutes to
go before she could leave. Unfortunately she had got trapped at the front by
the press of bodies but that was no long-term hinderance. She turned around,
ready to depart, and bumped into her sister, who was hanging off Freeman
Lascinian, who was currently having a lot of his freedom hindered.

"Eirvane!" gasped Merilla. "I haven't seen you in a long, long while. What
have you been doing?"

"Nothing of relevance to you." said Eirvane levelly. She started to move away
again.

"Don't say you're leaving!" Merilla looked somewhat upset. Eirvane couldn't
understand why.

"I have spent all the time I want to here." Eirvane said this almost out of
the corner of her mouth, so rapidly did she move away. She did not notice the
glare of bewilderment and hatred which her sister gave her from behind. How
dare she? Merilla had handed her a present and there she was, throwing it back
in her face! Intolerable!

Neither of them heard the First Professor's voice carrying over the heads of
the crowd.

"...Number 53, Eirvane Cequornon."

There was a silence, as people waited for the appropriate student to ascend.
But there came no student.

Eirvane was now calmly walking out of the hall towards the door. Like a big
man amongst flies, she seemed to generate a substantial personal space of her
own. People shrank back from her impassive face and graceful, yet stylised
walk. They would remember later something about the colour of her eyes, or
maybe something in the way she moved her head, and conclude that somehow, she
wanted to be left alone. They complied.

At the front, a murmur started which propagated increasingly quickly
throughout the hall. Missed appearances like this were unheard of. Where could
this Eirvane person be? More importantly, who was she? It would never be
discovered who recognised her in her almost final moments. All that can be
said was that all eyes were on her as she moved out slowly through the exit.

Merilla could barely breathe in shock.

It was both an insult to her as a sister and as a administrator that one of
her appointees should refuse. and so callously too. Merilla was disenchanted.
Hopefully no-one would remember  the relationship between the two, otherwise
she would never hear the end of it.

Lascinian looked upward to his love with innocent speculation on his face.

"Isn't that your sister?"

"Not any more." muttered Merilla under her breath.


------------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed it! More is to come......

Barry.

Newsgroups: wpi.students.voxhumana,alt.prose,alt.personals,alt.suicide.holiday