Lirssa had not returned to her routine. She had missed the dueling, missed her lessons, and avoided going into the foster homes. Even as the dreary days dripped along, she could not keep herself from at least stopping by, hiding upon a rooftop or among the long hedges across a street or behind a garden wall to see how the children in the foster homes were doing or see if the new children she sent had found their way.

Her legs felt numb and her head kept a humming pound in the back corner. These days reminded her much of when she was younger. She had Bubber then. Now, she had no one and could not be close to anyone. Instead of handing notes to children, she left them under rocks in gardens or hanging on lines in the wash. These notes fluttered on the scraps of paper in confused hands. Children who found them would run them inside to the foster parents. They were notes of farewell. They were lies. If she told them she was gone, far away, went to find her family in that distant land, people would stop worrying about her.

Never did the sick feeling tumbling in her stomach really go away. Of course, she did not leave town nor did she go find her family. She would keep doing her work but in secret. Festival days were here and that meant tournaments. She would return to her routes, perform at the tournaments, cheer and jeer the fighters, tumbling along the fence lines and earn enough to eat and sometimes find a place to sleep.

That was her plan and the past three days it had worked until she overheard a man talking. He was working over an arm chair, sanding down its curves and brushing away the dust from the work out of the detailed scroll work. The companion in the conversation looked world weary, leathery skin with pockets under rheumy brown eyes. He chewed on the stick of a pipe.

"Ay-yup, I hear Mrs. Smith is doing right poorly indeed." The craftsman continued. "Shame that. Good folk. Mr. Smith gave me a fair price indeed for those metal cap pieces on that set of dining chairs. I should find another project to send some business his way. I hear he's going to be needing the money to pay for her medicines."

"Ay-yup, same thing with my Harriet. Took ill and trying to keep her healthy drained my coffers. Worth it was, though. Not griping a bit." The other man grumbled around the pipe.

They shared nods and the conversation went to illnesses of various friends, some who lived and some who died. Lirssa shrank down against a wall, curling her legs up close. If it was Mrs. Sianna, and she was sick again, Lirssa had to be sure. There was no one she could outright ask though without proving she was still in town. There really was nothing for it. She had to get a look herself, and she had to try without anyone knowing.

"Oh heavens," Arabella shook out a lacy handkerchief from her sleeve and covered her nose. "We must wash you first before meeting with Master Fitzhugh. This just will not do." She shooed Lirssa inside, not even willing to touch her.

Lirssa knew she smelled. She had hoped she did, having not even taken the grace to clean her face and hands that morning. She had bound her broken hand with some strips of canvas she found from a bag along the street, that had added a particularly interesting aroma. Still, the hand throbbed and was swelling to a painful tightness beneath the bandage. With a big smile, she sat down on one of the foyer chairs with its lovely velvet upholstery and wiggled a little as if grinding her dirt and stench into the chair.

Color rose in Arabella's cheeks and made the sprinkling of freckles darken. "You know I can clean that up easily."

"Then why dontcha just clean me up, hm?" Lirssa stood once more, arms folded.

A cold narrowing of those opal eyes on Lirssa, Arabella approached with her hand raised and a little too much eagerness in the smile. "Because it would hurt, Lirssa," Fitzhugh spoke from the double doors that lead into what looked like a library. "Arabella, please ask Anne to tend to Lirssa and in particular that hand of hers. I believe it had a run in with Maudry's jaw the other night. She and I have business to discuss, and I have other meetings this afternoon."

Cowing a little like a cat sprayed with water, Arabella's hand dropped upon the tail end of a bell pull and tugged hard twice. The two engaged in a staring match waiting for the house maid to arrive. It was not long before Anne bustled into view and without a word, the appearance of Lirssa overwhelmingly obvious as to why she was called, she bundled Lirssa on upstairs. "Well now," she whispered as they took the turn to the first floor and on to the room Lirssa had before, 'did not expect to see you in such a state again or so soon."

"Yeah, well, didn't expect to be coming," Lirssa grumbled. The second time in one full turn of the clock she had to say that to someone. As the bathwater was drawn, Lirssa stripped out of her muck riddled, dog hair covered, and leaf strewn tunic, giving it a bit of a smile for the effect it caused, and dropped it in the middle of the floor. "I guess they'll have you burn that."

"Oh," Anne giggled, "likely. What have you been doing?" She asked as she unwrapped the hand and looked it over before releasing Lirssa to the bath.

Lirssa did not answer, but just gave a shrug. Truth was, she hated to be that dirty. Not that she was afraid of getting dirty, but clean felt good. She liked feeling good, but she hadn't felt that way in weeks. She had accepted that her outsides needed to match her insides. Now though, she was feeling sick and uncomfortable with what she was about to do, and she was going to be clean again. Nothing was going to match up right anymore.

The water turned from clear to cloudy to murky with the repeated scrubbing and rinsing for which she needed Anne's aid with one hand out of commission. Finally, Anne inspected Lirssa's nails and hair and was satisfied enough to allow Lirssa to step out and dry off. Her fingers were pruned, her broken hand pulsated, and her body tingled with feeling of being clean. When she went to the room to see what clothes they had for her, she found laid out a dress much like Arabella's in miniature. The underclothes were white with lace upon the collar of the chemise and pantalets. The shoes pinched at her toes as Anne used a shoe hook to button them up. The color of the dress was a raspberry color with white lace trim and even the small hint of a bustle at the back. It was, in fact, one of the most grown up dresses she had ever worn. She wanted to throw up, because deep inside she liked wearing it.

New bandages were wrapped around her hand, and Anne murmured, "Best have Miss Arabella mend that. She's a wiz at mending bones." Lirssa decided not to respond to that either, but turned about to face the mirror as Anne began to work on her hair. Her hair was drawn back with pins and combs under Anne's deft fingers and she pronounced Lirssa, "Ready now."

Lirssa's shoes had a nice square heel to them, not unlike some of her better boots she once owned but had sold away. Walking in them was easy for her even if they were tight around the toes. It was the dress that was bothersome, and she felt ridiculous having to hold up the skirt a little as she took the steps. The desire to have her pants and tunic back overrode that brief pleasure in having a grown up dress, and she felt herself once more as she stepped into the library where Fitzhugh and Arabella were waiting with cups of tea in their hands.

Fitzhugh stood and indicated a seat to join them. "Have you had luncheon, Lirssa??

Studying that twitch, the look in his eyes, and the nonchalant Arabella who found Lirssa's hair of interest, Lirssa felt the see-saw of negotiation teeter her way. She was not going to feel good about any of this, but if it meant her friends wouldn't have to do anything, wouldn't get themselves into trouble, then it might just be what she had to do. "Just like what endeavors" I'm not helping Maudry to kill people, you know. Just slit my throat right now."

Arabella smiled as if there was nothing better she would like to do than that very thing. Fitzhugh though frowned so far that his mustache was an upside down U. "No, Lirssa, your death aids absolutely no one."

To Lirssa's ears, that sentence seemed to have words that were left unsaid. As if he meant to say it aided absolutely no one just yet. Well, that was something to keep in mind. She still waited for an explanation of what her part in all of this was to be.

"Finding things and people, Lirssa. Just finding them. Artifacts mostly. Books as well. Perhaps people as well, children like you who have a talent but not the proper means to cultivate it. You would not want them to hurt themselves or others because of a lack of learning."

"I can't hurt people not knowing how to use this. You said I can't do anything without someone else."

"But Lirssa," Arabella smiled, 'someone could use you if you do not learn how to keep them out. What if someone got a hold of you and used your ability to kill hundreds. What if you could have stopped them by just learning."

They had caught her as neatly as a trap. They themselves might be those going to use her to hurt others, but she had to learn, and no one she knew could teach her how to control being this thing " this amplifier. If it were a bone in her body, she would have ripped it out, but it wasn't.

"How long am I held to this bargain?"

"A year, Lirssa, or less if things go well and we succeed in your training and the prospects of finding those artifacts." Fitzhugh's mustache turned the other way with his smile. Eyes gleamed with the prospect and hopefulness that Lirssa's question posed.

She could do this. She could play this role and pretend. It was just a very long story she had to act out, and she had been acting out stories most her life. "Right then. One year. One year only, from this day."

"Done, now, let Arabella help mend your hand, while I go to the office to see to other matters. Good day, ladies." Fitzhugh stood and exited without a glance back.

Lirssa's heart was like a running horse, pounding its way across a field. Like facing a horrible inevitability, she thrust her hand out towards Arabella. The lady took her hand in gentle, cool fingertips. "Now," she breathed out the words, "I cannot mend it all the way, but I can set them correctly and start them towards mending. This will hurt a little."

The ache began and then lessened, as if she had broken her hand once again with a sharp pain and into throbbing once more. When she looked to Arabella, the woman's features were even paler than before. Wide opal eyes were on Lirssa who could not help the tremor that rippled through her under that mystified gaze. The dismayed woman whispered, "By the heavens??