The ride had been hell. He hoped that she already knew about the situation in Olencia. He didn't want to be the one to tell her. He better ask first thing though. She wouldn't want to be out of the loop. It had been so long since he had seen her. Days, but to him, it had felt like an eternity. He was getting to attached already.

She seemed stronger than Withertongue was. Morally straight and narrow, more than he could say for himself. Perhaps she would be the one to help them with that. He hoped they could get some training in before they had to go to the wedding. He needed it after that incident with Penril. He couldn't afford to be scared of his magic anymore. He needed to be able to trust it.

He had wondered on the way about the exact arrangements of his living in Slayer Keep. He hoped it would be as beautiful as all said it was. As he rounded a final bend and looked out over the fields, he saw it.

The towers shimmered in the light of the morning. The stone seemed too gray, as if it had aged. Funny, since usually stone didn't age very much at all. This must have been built long ago. Perhaps before the Slayers had even existed. The age and experience of this place radiated from its walls.

He felt it then. The aura of the place. He now knew it wasn't somewhere you could just walk into. The wave of nausea that the bombarding aura had caused had passed. Perhaps, if you weren't allowed it would kill you. Perhaps there would just be another bend in the woods.

Iffalna hadn't slept. Again. Her notorious temper was stretched to the breaking point by her sleeplessness, and the news of the rioting in Olencia (combined with the knowledge that, as leader of the Slayers, she couldn't just trot off with Hemlock and knock some heads together) made her want to scream.

So she'd gone to the greenhouse, to sit in her little room of magic-embued plants, and tried to commune with them. It didn't help. She'd curled up underneath a giant orchid and tried to sleep. Nothing.

Finally, she sat up. "By the Gods and all the Hells, I'll be damned if I'm sitting in this...this...disgusting place for one second more!" she declared to her fuschia tree. It didn't produce a satisfactory answer, so she left to go for a walk.

She walked. And walked. And walked some more, not even bothering to go over a perfectly good bridge and choosing to wade through a stream instead. Iffalna wasn't quite blinded by her distress, so she had a vauge notion that she was getting to the outskirts of Slayer-held lands around the Keep (and that she was REALLY going to be sore the next day), but she kept walking. Iffalna inhaled deeply, smelling the wildflowers and the sun-warmed earth, and felt...Well, not better, really, but certainly more like herself. She felt her eyes become more observant the more she looked at the world around her, and noticed how much dirt was on her pants and that she REALLY should have changed her ink-stained shirt and goodness, weren't the hollyhocks gorgeous? Iffalna inhaled again, and touched what she could not see: The Ablest's tattoo on her face. Her skin didn't feel different, but she knew the mark was there. She sighed, and felt older than her fifty-eight years warranted.

Finally, she found the road. The road would be an easier path back, but first, she decided to rest under a willow, near another brook. She lie back, sun filtering gently through the willow's branches, brook singing in her ears, and snuggled into the moist earth below her. Iffalna hoped no one would find her, it wouldn't do to find the Ablest lying in mud, falling asleep on the...

Iffalna shot up. Someone was coming! On a horse! Iffalna racked her brain; no one was scheduled to come back. This had to be an intruder. How had they gotten through the sheild? Panic bubbled into her stomach, Iffalna was old and had never learned to fight hand-to-hand, and she was out here all alone. But something had to be done, and she was the only one out here, so...

"HALT, IN THE NAME OF THE ABLE..." Iffalna almost collapsed in relief. It was Blyth, riding his horse, looking nervous and sick. Apparently he could sense the sheild doing it's work; he probably wouldn't be able to get through on his own. Poor thing, this would have to be his first lesson.

"Blyth, you idiot, get off your horse before the sheild knocks you off. Go back about a hundred feet, I'll go with you, the shield will lighten up back there. How are you, besides sick and dizzy?" Iffalna jogged back a hundred feet and sat under a birch, trying to brush the mud off her clothes. She quirked an eyebrow and her new apprentice, and waited for an answer.

"Blyth, you idiot, get off your horse before the sheild knocks you off. Go back about a hundred feet, I'll go with you, the shield will lighten up back there. How are you, besides sick and dizzy?"

He placed his hand on the horse's back and flipped off. He ran about a hundred feet back and felt the wave of nausea pass again. How could he be so stupid? Of course the shield wouldn't part just for him. It probably needed to be disarmed with magic.

"I'm an idiot, but other than that I'm fine. Should of known it wouldn't just let me through. Oh well. People are problematic. Should of known you would protect yourselves. Umm ... If you don't know, there was a situation in Olencia when I left. I felt the city was no longer safe for me. As far as I know, my house and the watchman are still there. Along with my clothes, I hope. Also, I did something rash."

Should he tell her? She would be angry with him, but then again she might understand the necessity. He looked at her again. How could he have missed it? He didn't notice the tattoo was missing from Penril's face. There it was, plain as day. Iffalna was the new ablest. What had he gotten himself into?

((OOC: Sorry to be away so long, Blyth. This may be my only post for a few days, but I'll fire this one off and get back to my normal RPing schedule either on Tuesday or Wednesday))

"Something rash?" Iffalna responded, smiling sardonically. "Spit it out, Blyth. I'm afraid this is one of the few occasions where I won't be able to yell at you too badly." She touched her tattoo again. "Did you run into Penril in Olencia? Did you notice he didn't have a tattoo? That's because it's mine now, and I'm the Ablest." She picked at another spot of drying mud on her pants, smile decaying into a frown of worry. "I'm old, Blyth. I didn't want it. But I have it now. I suppose it's rather fitting; I've been running the Keep since Zruti-Penril's Master- died, but..." She pounded her thigh with her fist, frustrated. "I didn't plan on this, Blyth. It's upsetting."

She glanced sidelong at her apprentice, and added, "Though it will probably work out well for you. I'm not leaving you here at the Keep to be yelled at and humiliated by dunderheads used to training teenagers. You'll be traveling Olencia as the Ablest's apprentice. I suppose it will be grand for you." That had come out more bitter than she'd intended. Truly she didn't begrudge Blyth the first stroke of luck she suspected he'd had in years, but part of her begrudged anyone being happy at the current situation, simply because Ifflana was so intensely upset.

She shook herself out of her mood. Time to focus on her apprentice, she guessed. "So, what did you do that was rash?"

"So, what did you do that was rash?"

She wasn't angry at him. This was not like her. She had been angry at her appointement to Ablest not him. He hoped. He had to tell her that he used his magic. She would berate him perhaps, but she wouldn't kick him out. Hopefully.

"I used my magic ... on the previous Ablest."

She would be angry. But his decision was for the best. He had helped Penril. He had given him his only chance to get away from that hellhole in the street. She couldn't be mad for that. He had done what was best, even if it was risky. The street had been lined with cutthroats. All of them would have killed Pen and taken whatever he had on him. And Pen would have been too weak to do anything.

"To heal the wounds sustained in the riot. I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't just stand there and watch him be killed. He wasn't safe unconscious. So I used my magic to wake him up. I bound the damaged parts with my magic, and his body healed. I'm sorry."

"You WHAT?!" Iffalna squawked. "You USED YOUR MAGIC? On PENRIL?!" She turned to him and, unintended by her, the birch she was sitting under began to quake, sharing her fury. "You could have KILLED HIM! You could have killed YOU! You feckless, blockheaded..."

Then, against her will, the words she'd spoken a minute earlier drifted to the forefront of her mind: I'm afraid this is one of the few occasions where I won't be able to yell at you too badly.

Damn her mouth! ...Well, Iffalna reasoned, she couldn't begin being Blyth's master by breaking her word to him. She suspected he didn't quite trust her just yet, and she didn't want to break that trust before it had a chance to properly form. But she wanted to yell at him so badly! He'd really done a very, very stupid thing, one that could have gone frighteningly and fatally wrong, but that had worked out nontheless. Really, Iffalna didn't know where he got such amazingly good strokes of good luck, even as his luck overall had been terrible.

But as Iffalna calmed down, she realized her initial reaction, though justified, was silly. The truth was, Blyth HADN'T killed Penril or himself. He'd done exactly as he'd intended to do. Iffalna took a deep breath, and she and the birch stopped shaking. Smiling ruefully to herself, Iffalna stroked the birch's smooth, papery bark to thank it for its sympathy. At least SOME things around here are on my side, she thought wryly. Perhaps going for a walk this morning hadn't been a bad idea.

Iffalna decided to start over again. "I'm sorry, Blyth, I'm not angry at you. Not really, though I did consider it." She grinned at him, a little wolfishly. "Apparently you understand what you did was very stupid, otherwise you'd be proud of yourself. And this is both something to be proud of and ashamed of. On one hand, you performed a spectacular act of magic without your Master to instruct you, but on the other, you pulled it off. And I thank you for saving Penril. Really, I do." She considered for a moment. "We really need to start your training, Blyth. We need to start it yesterday. How long to we have before we need to run off to the wedding? And did you bring the gown I picked out? It was a silly gown, so I could buy a new one in Taye, but if you brought it then there is no need to waste the money."

"You WHAT?!" Iffalna squawked. "You USED YOUR MAGIC? On PENRIL?! You could have KILLED HIM! You could have killed YOU! You feckless, blockheaded..."

Anger. To be expected. He had done a very stupid thing. But sometimes you have to take a risk. If it's worth it. And that was a risk that he needed to take. He didn't kill Pen. But he could have. But on the otherhand, not doing it could have killed Pen too.

"I'm sorry, Blyth, I'm not angry at you. Not really, though I did consider it. Apparently you understand what you did was very stupid, otherwise you'd be proud of yourself. And this is both something to be proud of and ashamed of. On one hand, you performed a spectacular act of magic without your Master to instruct you, but on the other, you pulled it off. And I thank you for saving Penril. Really, I do. We really need to start your training, Blyth. We need to start it yesterday. How long to we have before we need to run off to the wedding? And did you bring the gown I picked out? It was a silly gown, so I could buy a new one in Taye, but if you brought it then there is no need to waste the money."

Not angry. Not expected. Welcome though. She was very levelheaded. She had every right to be angry. Blyth would have been angry with the blatant disregard for the severity of the consequences.

"Of course, I brought the gown. Honestly, I'm an assassin. Forgetting means ending up dead. What a great lesson to learn. Let's put the incident behind us and start fresh. No one died. No one was hurt. I'm here. Like you said, we need to start training. Now. Perhaps we should start away from the tower. I know most of my basic channeling so I won't have too much chance of killing everything in the forest. And I just don't want to meet the others yet."

Iffalna was startled by that revelation. "Yes, well. I guess I won't have to worry about a forgetful apprentice. And I'm glad you haven't ended up dead." She swallowed. Poor child. He'd never really had a chance to be stupid, irresponsible, and annoying, like so many of the apprentices around the Keep. Though Iffalna didn't like that particular stage they all went through, she knew it was an important part of their development. She didn't, for the life of her, know why. She just knew teenagers were like that.

Except Blyth hadn't been. She wondered if he ever felt sorry that he hadn't had the chance to be moody and make life miserable for every adult in his life.

Iffalna filed that question away to be asked later, and grinned at his last remark. "You don't have to meet everyone. To be perfectly honest, I don't want to see anyone in the Keep. That's why I'm out here rolling in the mud. So. Channeling. Besides risking yours and Penril's life by healing people, what else do you know how to do?"

"You don't have to meet everyone. To be perfectly honest, I don't want to see anyone in the Keep. That's why I'm out here rolling in the mud. So. Channeling. Besides risking yours and Penril's life by healing people, what else do you know how to do?"

"I can do a lot. Safely, though, I can do almost nothing. Using magic has always been a risk for me. I only uses when the risk is worth taking. Trust me, from experience, I know which risks are worth taking. I try not to take the ones that could get me killed unless it becomes absolutely necessary for the safety of others. I try to control it as best I can. You know about Withertongue. I've done worse. Unfortunately, I am better at channeling a human spirit and using it to fuel my magic than I am at finding peace with the world and using its dormant power. The balance has always been hard to find for me. I've never had trouble in exerting the power. But if it gets out of control, which happens all too often, I discharge the magic into something random. Since I channel through my blades, they usually crack."

"It's been a long time since I've killed someone using magic. But not all the way back to Withertongue. I think the last man I killed using magic, I was sixteen. I used it to finish a job that was in danger of failing. I lost control. I ended up killing my partner instead of my target. I used the rest of his soul to kill my target and help me escape. I vowed from that day not to intentionally kill with my magic. That is until it gets under control at least."

"Killing is the way to many means Iffalna. If you come to understand that, you understand me. I will always kill. I take no pleasure in killing. It is a horrible thing to end another's life. That's why I always took the long assignments. The ones that I could understand how my target worked. The ones that I could determine could die or not. I failed missions not because of lack of skill but rather because the target did not truly deserve to be slain. But teach me some more. This is not a topic for a day like this. We will speak more later."

Well, she had a philosopher apprentice, then. If he turned out to be a placid, absentminded, old, ink-stained man writing papers on the value of life and death, she'd move her soul out of Valleran's realm just to come back and laugh at him. Iffalna had never heard someone speak as dispassionately and objectively about killing as he had, but surely the intellectuals at the King's court would lap it up like a cat with cream.

Ifflana wasn't much for philosophy (she much preferred results to philosophy, and explanations to ruminations), so she largely ignored her new apprentice's last tangent. "We won't be doing killing today," She said firmly. "And using someone's soul is generally a punishable offense, but you didn't know it at the time and we'll act like you didn't tell me. It would be silly to call a council together to punish a boy like you for doing something you didn't know you shouldn't, but I'm technically honor-bound to do so."

"I've never heard of channeling through an object. I've used a rowan staff in the past to focus magic to defeat Undead, but what you're describing ought to be roughly the opposite, unless, of course, it isn't. Could you demonstrate for me, Blyth? I'll be standing here and I'll control the magic if it gets out of hand, but I need to be able to observe the process, and I need to be able to feel the energy flow when you're drawing. If you can, don't draw energy from either you or me. That would just be silly, when there's a forest around us." Iffalna stood, backing up to give Blyth space, folding her arms and half-closing her eyes, reaching out to the world around her and observing the energy in the forest.

"I've never heard of channeling through an object. I've used a rowan staff in the past to focus magic to defeat Undead, but what you're describing ought to be roughly the opposite, unless, of course, it isn't. Could you demonstrate for me, Blyth? I'll be standing here and I'll control the magic if it gets out of hand, but I need to be able to observe the process, and I need to be able to feel the energy flow when you're drawing. If you can, don't draw energy from either you or me. That would just be silly, when there's a forest around us."

He thought that he would first try it without the blades. Perhaps, he didn’t need them. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, a trick long mastered from years of silence. He let his thoughts flow out of him like water, nothing of consequence was held in his mind. He felt the energy of the forest weaving itself into his essence. He was a part of the forest. He also felt Iffalna whose energy seemed to be growing from the very ground she stood on. He concentrated and felt the pull of the river, not so far away. He began to channel the energy of the brook. He drew it into him but he couldn’t get it to become a part of him. He couldn’t send it back out either. It was stuck.

He drew the blades out from under his arms. He began to channel the energy into them. The magic began to flow quickly through the grooves in the knives. It gathered at the tips but it had nowhere to go. It started to jump. Where it hit the ground, the plants sprung up and grasped at whatever they could find. Soon his legs were covered in various flora. He began to form the energy into one big ball. It was like a single rain drop building until it had enough energy to fall. He tried to hold it as well as he could but the energy wouldn’t stop building. All of a sudden, the drop broke free from his control and fell to the ground.