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thought.

As Mareith neared the guards, she waved her hands in an intricate display that ended with a sharp, slashing motion. The two guards bowed and moved aside. No words were exchanged between them for none were needed, the simple fact that both still lived proof that the High Lady Vandene had made it safely through another day. Laying her hands upon the smooth wood, Mareith recited the complex phrases that would nullify the sigil and allow the twin doors to be open.

Few humans could recite the words of magic that flowed easily from Mareith's lips, the strange inflections and complicated words weeding out anyone incapable of controlling the vast energy and responsibility that came with any skill in the Art. Magical aptitude was a must for any Seneschal and Mareith was more proficient than most, her mastery of the simpler spells and summonings a testament to her intelligence and determination.

Opening the doors, Mareith stepped into the darkened room. Closing them securely behind her, she spoke the words that would reactivate the sigil. Usually, she would not have bothered to reset the ward, confident in the Tel'shins' abilities. Tonight, however, was special and she was not about to take any unnecessary chances.

Turning her back to the doorway and staring intently into the blackness, she turned her senses inward. Seeking the part of her being tuned to the magic around her, she spoke a simple word of command and a scattering of candles flared to life. Blinking her eyes against the sudden brightness, Mareith weaved her hands in a complicated flow as she once again called upon the power of her gift. This time, the spell she wove was not so easy and it took longer to summon the magical energy necessary to complete it. Finally, she threw her hands toward the ceiling, palms raised toward the heavens and brought them down harshly. Since nothing glowed in the room, there were no invisible assassins, shape changed killers, or beings in a state of physical or temporal phase. Though no one could have gotten past both the guards and the ward, Mareith would not risk the hope she had for this night on a mere certainty.

For a rich and powerful noble, the furnishings and decorations within the spacious room were spartan. In one corner sat a small desk, its polished surface littered with half-finished letters and other papers of various importance. A plush, high-backed chair rested behind it, the deep piles of soft lambskin rugs that lay strewn on the floor muffling Mareith's

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