"But you weren't here," Garatt pointed out. He glanced back at the page, clearly struggling to keep his attention on her rather than continuing to read. "Besides, I didn't tell you to go away."--

The choice was obvious, for Z'go at least. "I'll stand," he replied. The blonde man watch Cremsden for a moment, completely unaccustomed to be treated this way by the Journeyman but willing to chalk

Val had found what he was looking for: a simple wooden flute. As he held the object in his hands, he thought of his mother and knew he needed to do this. The Candidate made his way back into the area

She nearly backed down. Nearly. "I found this place first. You should have respect for more than just books here."

"Huh?" Garatt looked up again, startled, having completely missed her first statement. "I was *reading*," he protested in injured tones.-- Blackadder: I mean, what about the people that do all the

"Enter!" A sharp voice called from inside. When the door opened it was to reveal a fairly elderly man behind a desk, staring at the doorway with a faint frown. "Yes?" -- Blackadder: I mean, what

Cremsden had watched the uncomfortable walk and winced in sympathy as Z'go tried to sit down, making his own quick judgement about what Z'go might be in for. "Steady there." And now his tone was

"I found this place first," she said, finally, when thoughts of resentment had bubbled long and hard. She turned to study him, the messy appearance, the distracted look. "Look at me," she demanded,

"I got it, I walked all the way here, right?" he replied and with a heavy sigh he followed the healer into the private room. He saw a cot and a couple of chairs and decided to go for the cot. Big

Perhaps the worst part was that Garatt didn't seem to notice her resentment. Introductions over he tucked himself back into the book he had been reading and was absorbed, very quickly forgetting that

"Yeah, yeah, come on then." And even for Z'go Cremsden gentled his tone a little when he was speaking to him as a patient, switching to the same soothing note he might have used on a scared or injured

She bristled, just a little, but took a seat, opening her book silently. She stole glances at the other Candidate now and again, wondering what to do with him, loathed to give up this hiding spot to

"I was harper trained, I'll have you know, and speak like a fecking bitran poet," retorted the brownrider, a tad bit more relaxed now that he was alone with Cremsden. They had had their problems in

"I guess, if you're quiet," Garatt said a little doubtfully, still not seeming to understand that it was her doing him the favour here.-- Blackadder: I mean, what about the people that do all the

"Indeed. And to you, who clearly uses only the language expected of the finest Harpers," Cremsden agreed gravely. "Clearly I had to send them away before your ears caught fire from such horrors."--

Aru glanced over from Kyrel to Z'go and finally looked to Cremsden and nodded, "If you need anything just let me know." As if an apprentice could do much. She stepped away and beckoned Kyrel to

Ysolde's fury was in full flow now as she thrashed and kicked out at the Guard. "A couple of thieves, that's who! I know I've seen you hanging around here before!" That was what her brain was telling

"Shut up," Kassia snapped, anger blazing in her eyes. Her dagger was on her hip as she turned to face the Candidate. How dare this Candidate strike her? "Do you know who you're talking to?" the

Kyrel resisted the urge to further antagonize the pained rider, amusing though it might have been. With Aru for an audience, he was certain he could have nailed some biting one-liners, but Cremsden's

Catching glimps of Kassia's distinctive hair struck a chord of memory as she tumbled headlong to the ground, ignoring the burning sting as she skinned her elbows. But in her shock and fury, her brain