Reincarnation: May Come with Teething Problems (Exalted)

[drakensis]

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Somewhere between light that hurt my eyes and what seemed like an unending hunger, I lost myself in dreams.

The Bodhisattva Anointed by Dark Water was perhaps the most dangerous remaining of that select company who deemed themselves the lords over death itself. Ghosts, ancient and potent. Once they had been among the greatest… and perhaps the vilest… of the Exalted. In death they were something much worse.

His fleets had scoured the seas around Onyx for a thousand miles, erasing the living save for those willing to become slaves to the dead. Leviathan himself had risen to do battle and I had saluted the mighty Chosen of Luna for his last stand… but it had been his last stand.

While much of that fleet was scattered, one flotilla stood guard in the waters around the Bodhisattva's stronghold and on the decks of their flagship I duelled against Moray Darktide.

The ship was sinking, carrying the crew of corpses back to what should have been their resting place all along. The renegade's short, heavy daiklave clashed with my dire lance. He was mighty, I will give him that: a privateer of Skullstone turned Dawn Caste, chosen by the Unconquered Sun only to place his awesome potential at the disposal of one of our worst enemies.

I blame the parents… in the sense that the Most High really should have paid more attention to who he was exalting.

Moray paused to take breath upon his quarterdeck. "You're skilled, Bookwyrm. Everything I have heard and more.

I shrugged and gave him a bitter smile. "I hear a 'but'."

He drew a deep breath. "Not going to try to reason me? Convince me that I made the wrong choice?"

"You've had a hundred years to reconsider. If that hasn't persuaded you, nothing I say will."

The Solar nodded. "And the same for you. My master's cause is inevitable."

I twirled my spear, cutting away what was left of the rigging. "Yeah yeah. If I've heard it once, I've heard it a thousand times. Come along, you would-be deathknight. Let's see if he spares you a dark exaltation when I'm done carving the Sun's out of you."

He laughed, for he had wounded me four times so far and his supernatural skill with a sword was such that I had not managed the same. And then he came at me, sword ablaze.

I didn't try to dodge or parry - although I had managed both a thousand times for every time his soulsteel blade had touched me. Instead I went for him, using the length of my spear.

My every blow was perfect, a deadly invocation of power that was forbidden by heaven. If the halls in which fate was meted out and from which auditors were dispatched to enforce heaven's writ were not currently on fire, I might be in trouble.

His every parry was also perfect, supernatural grace and precision such as only the mightiest of the Most High's champions can show. Such a duel has rarely been seen.

And yet, I had an advantage, for I have sparred with and fought against his kind before.

He parried six times, like the master swordsman that he was, in the time it took for my heart to beat twice.

But in that same brief interval, I had struck ten times.

Darktide hit the deck behind me once, twice, thrice and then the fourth and fifth parts of him a moment later.

If the Bodhisattva Anointed by Dark Water cared in any manner about Moray Darktide's death, then I saw no sign of it. Perhaps the ghost would rise to serve the Deathlord in death as he had in life, but that was no longer my concern. A subtle whisper snatched away the Solar's imperishable shard and I did not look for that which had distorted the designs of the Great Maker.

Since the death of Urwl in the Primordial War, the greatest of all the Elemental Dragons of Earth - all the Elemental Dragons in fact - was the Kukla. His power rivalled the Celestial Incarnae, and his madness the worst of the curse-ridden Solar god-kings of the First Age. Eons ago he had been confined by water and fire, bound into an underground volcano deep beneath the Western Ocean.

The charm I'd used to slay the renegade Solar invoked him, challenged bindings laid by one of the Incarna and by Gaia, the Mother of Creation. Twelve locks bound it, each guarded by an Elemental who could have ruled an entire Court of their kind. Yet these were mostly to keep others from reaching him and disturbing his slumber. The true security was that the greatest of all the Incarnae had summoned and bound the Kukla to sleep until he was called for. For the final days of Creation, when armageddon would rage and the Kukla's final dance would herald birth and rebirth.

So it was prophesied, anyway.

To invoke the Kukla was to risk breaking that sleep. Thus, my art was a sin, a deed most dire. A bell whose every chime had a good chance of waking him.

I'd just used it repeatedly, practically upon his doorstep.

The sea to the west bulged upwards, a mountain of water rising upwards as something more inevitable than even death arose.

"Wakey wakey," I murmured and cast aside my material form as the rising ocean smashed what was left of the warship beneath me. Doing so drained me of my last reserves of essence, all but that bound to my panoply, but that was fine. I didn't need it now, or at least, no more than the comparative trickle I could draw from the hearthstones I carried. In time, a few hours, I would be fully replenished. I might even have that time!

Upon the isle, the living screamed either in despair or anticipation, the dead bureaucrats abandoned their brushes to stare up at something to end even their nigh immortal ennui.

Tens of miles high, a mountain of water to rival even the greatest mountain in all Creation. Were the sun's chariot not forever dimmed, its shadow might have reached the continent to our east.

And then the Kukla burst from it, twelve legs striking clouds from the sky, beard and horns storms in their own right.

An inconceivable mass of waters crashed down beneath it, forming a tsunami that would rush across Creation before us.

Onyx vanished beneath the waves without even a whisper, the rest of the island an instant later. I suspected the rest of the archipelago would fare no better.

And then the two great eyes of the Kukla focused on the irritant that had presumed to draw its wrath.

In spirit, I am a dragon. Ivory of scale, sapphire of eyes, copper of whisker. A dragon of the earth, like the Kukla, but smaller and less grand in every way. Its eyes themselves seemed larger than my entire body.

I offered an ancient and profane gesture in greeting and fled, racing the waves as they thundered away from the ruins of what had once been a civilisation of living and dead co-existing in something approaching harmony.

The sky seemed to split behind me as the Kukla roared and gave chase.

I had laughed at that thought, for black humour was all that was left when the flames of two suns – gold and green – guttered and died together. Now it was a far more immediate and menacing prospect. Not merely of death, but of failure.

I had agreed - boasted even - that I would dance the razor's edge, battling those who could not be defeated, calling up that which I could not put down and throw defiance into the face of all reason and sanity.

I felt more alive than I ever had before. Each moment felt infinitely precious.

I hurtled towards the birthing place of the sun, forerunner of a force of destruction such as Creation had never known since the War of Bronze and Gold. And behind that wave, maw wide with appetite to devour my most impudent self, came the Kukla.

The islands of the west disappeared behind us, consumed by what I had unleashed.

A day later, perhaps? Time had no meaning when twin suns had died next to each other, emerald and gold united briefly in one cause for the first time since the Exalted first arose, only to gutter and perish. The chariot that flew above even us was increasingly erratic.

Icebergs were swept up in the tsunami that I preceded. To the south I saw the coastal islands were devoured - only Ratjul large enough for anyone to survive. It shielded somewhat of the cost beyond it - ruined cities of the Maker's folk, fought over by the horde of living and dead cannibal-islanders who had resented deeply that their ancient raiding preserves had been held securely by anyone.

Further away, no doubt the Blessed Isle and the Slave Coast that faced it were being similarly hammered. I saw the vast ice mass that covered much of the mouth of the White Sea shatter like glass, merely adding to the wave as it swept onwards.

Yet the greater ice sheet to the north survived, though cracked and torn for hundreds of miles inland by that massive blow.

And there, far from the ocean, Kukla still upon my heels, I found the ruined city of Tchoto-kili, one of so many lost to the various disasters that had battered the North - perhaps worse than anywhere else in Creation - over the millennia. I had added one last insult to that roster, I thought.

But in the city, there was a gate that I knew well. I descended at a frantic pace and dived through it, the great panels swinging obediently open for me.

There was no rational way for the mountainous Kukla to follow me through that portal, but it did so anyway.

All was according to the 'keikaku'. Even those parts that my comrades could not know until it was too late.

Heaven spread before us, the ancient and vast city of Yu-Shan.

It had been the palatial estate of the Primordials, then the capital of the Celestial Pantheon. Ancient and mighty, corrupt and glorious, first… and now fallen.

Memories of the city overwhelm me, leaving me plunging back and forth in my recollections. Was it later or earlier that I saw Yurgen Kaneko fall at last, my rival and my lieutenant, the old man who had smiled at the overturning of traditions that saw a Chosen of the Unconquered serve a mere son of Urwl. The Salient of the Unconquered Sun lay in ruins, one of the mightiest strongholds in Heaven laid waste by the armies that stormed in through gateways writ by divine power and those carved by those who would drag us all to oblivion.

It was before this, I think.

Yes, I remember now. I remember the heavens violated by death and those never born and never fully dead haunted its streets, re-enacting the lives they had led and trapping others in nightmares. The portals were locked open and hosts of demons, living and dead, streamed through them.

It was the death of everything. A demand for quietus, for eternal peace, and for hateful revenge on a world that had turned upon its creators, worshippers who had cast down those they were wrought to idolise.

And yet even those fighting to devour, to survive, to spite the fate that seemed unavoidable, paused in their battles to stare upwards as the Kukla and I made our entry. And their screams grew ten-fold as the twelve-legged dragon set foot where, as a lesser being, he had once been made welcome.

Now he carved a path of annihilation through what had once been merely destruction.

The office of bestowed power was a ruin, open to the sky with its cabinets torn open and looted, but the tools they had once held and the custodian were elsewhere now. Nothing but vapour was left when we passed it by.

A thousand streets, a million palaces. Armies of the dead, legions of the living - damned and mortal fighting side-by-side in perhaps that one cause that could have wed them together.

Their defiance warmed me, but I knew that ultimately it amounted to nothing but spitting into the face of futility.

When these battles ended, there would be nothing left.

Yu-Shan would crumble, plunged into the Well of Oblivion, dragging with it Creation. Malfeas was already undone and what it would mean for the Sea of Chaos neither I nor any of my Circle could calculate.

No, we had reached the last moments before the final nadir and only death would remain...

There would be nothing.

Save a faint sliver of hope that I hid in my heart, unspoken.

We all have our gifts. Mine was time.

Here was a working, a plan that had been calculated to the nth degree. My baiting of the Kukla, guiding its rampage to distract and delight those who dreamed of destruction…

For the most part, they expected me to join them. A few knew that some laws are inflexible and that the rule of sacrifice is immutable. Only the sorcerers knew that in this case, our code – do not die – could not be followed.

I had not confided to them that I was a cheating cheater who would cheat if he could. If they didn't know me that well...

The Kukla screamed in elemental hunger and somewhere inside me, a count crept upwards.

Five poles and seven scales, plucked away from the very hide of the beast that craved my death. Nigh a thousand shards of power to guard it. My children by the ten thousand to guide them.

And hidden citadels, dragged by the children of fate to where the rest would make a new world for those hidden within.

The heart of the eternal city, the Jade Pleasure Dome, reared miles into the sky. It almost rivalled the Kukla for size and hordes fought around it, less as organised bodies and more in fanatical desire to possess and enjoy the pleasures within for whatever little time remained to them.

They at least were mostly spared for their last nihilistic orgies and games as I led the Kukla south, the gigantic dragon gaining on me though I was moving so fast that even its roars and tirades could barely catch me.

I saw a plaza of gold and crimson floor, one that I had seen bedecked for festivals and triumphs. From the edge of heaven to its heart I had raced, for here were the 'front gates', the portals leading out to the Blessed Isle. Thirteen arches surrounded the plaza, twelve for the known exits and the last, the Calibration Gate locked open, control of it usurped to allow the first invasion force in.

The plaza had been gold alone before the bloodbath as the Aerial Legion of the heavens defended Yu Shan with every power at their command. They had turned the space into a killing ground and, without treason, they might even have won.

The war had moved on, the plaza deserted.

I chose one of the other gates and made my exit. The sounds behind me suggested that there wouldn't be much left of the bloodied stones in a moment.

I entered the skies above Creation, miles high as I burst away from the summit of Mount Meru.

A black dragon awaited me, coiled and lurking like betrayal. If it wasn't for the Kukla behind me, I might have been impressed by its size and power. Although probably not. I was a little jaded when it came to such matters.

"I know," I greeted him. "It is your nature."

He grinned at me in delight and despair, springing up to join me. "My congratulations, were I to permit it, you might even escape through the door that has opened for you. However, I have in mind to -"

I laughed. "O first and foremost in the breaking of oaths, I am about to break faith with my Circle."

The Primordial drew up, seeming affronted. And then it cackled wildly and slowed down, sparing me.

And in so doing, doomed himself.

An instant later, the Kukla's jaws closed upon the Ebon Dragon, ground down upon him with fangs to dwarf a war galley and then flung his body aside. Living or dead, I know not. I count him amused though. Treachery, deception and betrayal

Someone had to close the door behind my comrades. Someone had to initiate the orgy of apocalypse that would convince the damned lords of the underworld that all had perished with them. And that someone must not escape or it would give the game away. The Ebon Dragon had understood that, had planned to betray us all… and to complete our plan.

I had understood it too, and that I - accounted the most loyal and steadfast of men - would do so had entertained the arch traitor enough that he would allow me to play this out. He might even on some level admired that I'd timed to lure him into the reach of my pursuer.

I screamed out into the sky, ascending to the heights of the night. The Kukla tore out of the ruined gates and the world roared as its shadows twisted at the essence flows that lay beneath us.

Nothing in all Creation can destroy like the Kukla.

But in the hundred years I have been Exalted, there has never been anyone who could cheat fate like the Bookwyrm. There might, just might, be a way out. A way to join them in that mere pocket of Creation that we had divided from the main, a lifeboat as it were, for what would remain.

Nothing is as vital to the existence of our world than the flows of essence that stream from the heights of Meru to the mouth of the river to our east.

Let the light of the sun cast the Kukla's shadow upon those flows…

I clawed upwards, slowing as it grew harder and harder to gain purchase upon the winds beneath the dome of heaven. The Kukla's hot breath came at my tail.

Every part of me ached with pain. How long had I done this? Time beyond measuring, for the count of hours was gone.

And the suns were dead. What then, was I waiting for? Or rather, for whom.

Creation, it is said, is but one of her many souls. She is mother to us all.

And thus, as an apocalypse raged beneath us, all mankind's brightest gone, I spat out the coin she had entrusted to me so long ago.

"Gaia," I croaked. My anima flared around me, a brilliant white that stretched a thousand yards away. "Witness me!"

And in my last moment…

For one brief moment…

A new sun was born to cast a shadow…

Creation broke around us and...

Every.

Single.

Thing.

Ended.

Is it any surprise that I screamed and howled both before and after I woke?

I hungered. I wept. I rejoiced and I despaired.

Some eternity later my eyes blinked as wakefulness returned. "Uaaa," I exclaimed.

Eloquent, I know. I have something of a way with words.

A giant lifted me and I felt dizzy for a moment before the ascent became a soothing rocking motion. I was warm, I was… well hungry enough to eat but not so ravenous that I must. There was a humiliating moment of someone patting at my nether and a sigh of relief that there was no moistness there.

She (I could tell) carried me out of the sunlight and cradled me with soothing noises that distracted my attention from thought and left me unfocused.

I parted my lips, smiled and yawned. Sleep beckoned. Would I dream again of the past?

So be it. The fact I could dream meant I lived. The fact I lived meant I had cheated both the designs of the spirits and of my well-meaning friends. Oh, and that I'd saved enough for there to be a new world to live in.

I'd be sure to rub that in their faces once I found them.

I admit, I had rather planned to skip the infant years. Being a baby had not been part of my calculations. No, I'd figured on skipping to the good stuff. But I didn't need to tell them that. No, whatever I'd accomplished, that was the plan all along.

Don't tell them that, okay?

---

In hindsight, I may not have been terribly coherent with my previous explanation. Please excuse me, reincarnation is not an exact science.

Well, actually, reincarnation is a fairly well regulated and designed process. It's just… well, it's been a little bit broken for a few thousand years and the end of the world and all its attendant processes including but not limited to the reincarnation of human souls can be a bit disruptive. And I was kind of trying to force an exploit through it that it really wasn't designed for.

So… some errors may be allowed for, surely. It's not the sort of thing that one can experiment with repeatedly – at least unless you're going to experiment on other's souls, which is unethical in the extreme.

The simple fact that I remembered who I was is cause for a pat on the back. I would have done that myself but honestly, my coordination wasn't up to it as I lay in a cradle. Or up to much of anything, really. I don't recall my earliest years in my last life all that well, and I don't tend to be all that involved in the infant years of my own offspring, but it seems that baby muscles are approximately as effective as wet noodles until they get some exercise in to build them up.

And yes, I was something of a distant father. There were reasons, so I feel I was justified in that, but it's certainly nothing to be proud of. I cared, in my way, and I have made my peace with my failings over the years. Most of my children seem to forgive me, and those who do not… well, they have the right not to.

I wonder if any of them are still alive? It would be somewhat ironic if I were my own descendant in this life.

Also, more or less inevitable, had things gone entirely to plan, but they evidently had not.

Permit me to lecture a moment upon certain aspects of Exaltation. The most famous and storied are of course, the bestowed Exaltations – the celestials, in other words. Souls chosen and favoured by one of the Celestial Incarna or at least by criteria they set up. In the fullness of time and at some fateful moment, they receive a grant of power that elevates them above most of humanity in some ways. Not including morality or sanity, unfortunately, but at least they're no longer cursed to be impaired in that respect.

(The Neverborn were rather upset about their curse being lifted, but they did kill almost all of us so let's call that a wash.)

When the bearer of bestowed power dies, their shard which contains the power, returns to the celestial spirit who oversees such matters, until the power is given to another. Along with the power come some memories of the more puissant of the former bearers, essentially something of a tutorial on how to use that power. Any biases and prejudices carried over were an undocumented feature but a feature, not a flaw. Most died fighting demons, and the Incarnae wanted their Exalted to fight demons, so a dislike for demons is desirable.

I, on the other hand, am a recipient of inherited power. Terrestrial Exaltation, by its nature, passes through the bloodline. The potential to share in that power is passed to one's children – which is one reason I have so many children. It is cold-blooded, but Creation needed protectors and I had at the time an unrivalled ability to sire such protectors.

I had still wept for those of my children who had died before me.

I wept again as I thought of my dead children, to the distraction of those caring for me in this state. My hearing was getting better and I was fairly sure one of the women was my mother. I smiled at her as thanks for her wiping my face and consoling me. The local dialect was close to several I had spoken before, but not entirely the same.

Yawn. I rested my head upon her shoulder and…

---

Sometime later I woke, again in my cradle. Staying awake for any length of time was also difficult for me as a baby, which I had more or less expected. I do have some experience with children, just not as much as I feel I ought.

Yes, anyway. Inherited power. There was no shard of power for us. It was in our blood, thus 'Dragon-Blooded'. Given the prevalence of my descendants among those escaping to the new world we sought to create from the wreckage of Creation, there was a very good chance that if I was reborn as a terrestrial exalt that I would be at least distantly descended from myself.

If, of course, I was going to exalt in this life. Which was an open question.

My plan had been to form a pseudo-shard of power with my soul; and have it seek out someone destined to receive an inherited exaltation. They would therefore receive a measure of my power and my memories – a gift to the future. Their own soul and memories would dominate, naturally – I had no intention of attempting to usurp someone else's life. Just to provide some guidance where it might be needed and perhaps do some gloating from the grave.

Petty, I know, but I'm like that sometimes. Anyway, matters clearly hadn't gone to plan and instead my soul had clearly entered the normal reincarnation process so I'd be starting from scratch. At least I had my own body, unimpressive as it might be at the moment, which was more than I had expected. On the other hand, there was no assurance that this life was destined to receive exaltation.

There was nothing I could do about that, really. Fate can be cheated, but destiny is another thing entirely. But a new life beckoned and I didn't seem to be off to a bad start.

All I could see at the time was the cradle and the ceiling above it. I could hear other children and they sometimes passed my field of vision, so I guessed I was being raised in some sort of communal creche. The room wasn't very fancy, but it was better than some peasant hut so I wasn't in some primitive backwater. Hopefully whatever the new world was, there were few of those. Poverty isn't entirely eradicable in my experience, but it can be kept to a bare minimum and some sort of standards.

My mother seemed healthy, if perhaps a little tired. I regretted that I might be adding to that by waking in the nights but she wasn't the only person caring for the children so I doubt I was all that much to blame. What I wasn't sure was whether this was an extended family or perhaps just a community that shared the responsibility of caring for their children.

There's certainly nothing wrong with the latter. When I cared for my own children, it was generally in mixed creches shared with my colleagues and comrades' families. I had a warm sensation at the thought that the custom might have continued into…

Dammit, that warm sensation was something else entirely.

I waved my hands as much as I could for attention, but finally had to settle for wailing until someone picked me up and discovered I'd soaked my nappy.

Bladder control, I miss you so very much. Isn't there some sort of exercise I can do to get you back sooner?

---

Long before I had managed that matter, other matters changed.

One morning – I think it was a morning unless I'd slept most of a day and it was late afternoon – my mother plucked me out of my cradle and changed my nappy. I wasn't sure why – I hadn't soiled it yet. I'd grown more familiar with the local dialect though, enough to be sure her name was Alina and be more confident that she was my mother.

I was certainly referred to as her child by some of the other adults but that could have meant she'd adopted me or something. She might be an aunt who'd taken me in after my birth mother died, for example. I was aware I was probably overthinking the matter, but I had plenty of time and little else to do. Also, no one sat down and provided a useful degree of exposition to confirm details of my family background.

Not that they didn't talk to me… at me, rather. But no one expects babies to understand so why explain anything? I was most amused by the oldest caretaker, who mostly minded us at night. Medra had a sweet and kindly tone, but tended to ramble on with a stream of consciousness that included the fact that she thought I was a rather ugly baby with pale and unhealthy skin. Also, my hair – which had initially fallen out to my alarm – was growing back in far too thick. At least I had round and pinchable cheeks.

She did pinch at them very delicately so I allowed that. Just little tickles, really. I don't think she actually disliked me, she just didn't see any need to filter what she said to someone that wouldn't understand and was keeping her up all night.

Fair enough. I rewarded her with smiles and giggles, the only currency I had on offer.

In addition to my fresh nappy, I was – for the first time – dressed in more than some blankets or a swaddling cloth. Not that it was a huge improvement, since what I was dropped into was basically a sack with arms. The only openings were for my head and hands, leaving my legs kicking in the bottom of the sack. The entire thing was slightly too large for me, so once the draw-string cuffs were secured snugly around my wrists the arms were effectively 'puffed up' around my own arms, and the collar was too wide even when it was buttoned up.

Still, it was a novel garment to me at the time and I would have liked to try putting my arms through the sleeves myself – an experiment in dressing myself! – but my mother had a worried air so I just relaxed and let her handle that, for which I was rewarded with a kiss on the brow and a reminder that I was a good girl.

Yes, a girl. It wasn't a surprise – I'd figured that out after the first few times I got wiped down there. I might not have the neck strength yet to examine down there, but there had been a lack of any dangly bit down below so… oh well.

There might be some karmic judgement involved that the Bookwyrm, infamous for fathering ten thousand children on ten thousand women, would be the one bearing any children this time. (It wasn't that many children, or that many women. You know how rumours can get. If I counted my grandchildren, then it would be more accurate).

It wasn't all that distressing a discovery, really. Women, you see, are people too. I realise this may shock some people, but it's true. I even have female friends in addition to the mothers of my children.

And if I really needed to address the reproductive side of things from a male side (or got sick of sitting down to empty my bladder), there were magical options.

Having dressed me, mother carried me out of the creche room where I'd spent all this life so far. I'd have loved to look around but even just the view from her arms was quite exciting after weeks or months confined to just one room – and most of the time to just one small part of it.

What I saw was an enclosed courtyard formed by two L-shaped buildings. Gates sealed off the two corners between the buildings, although they were open at the moment, and there was grass and a tree – chestnut I think – at one end of the yard. The other end was taken up by posts supporting laundry lines (they were in use so I didn't have to guess at the function). The buildings seemed to be timber and plaster, with broad porches along the courtyard side. I saw notches that presumably held panels to enclose the porches during harsh weather but today didn't seem to be such a day.

"Is he here yet?" mother asked Medra, who was standing near one of the open gates.

"Not yet," the old woman told her. She reached out and pinched my cheeks. "Let's get some colour in those cheeks of yours, little one. It'll make you look less unhealthy."

"There's nothing unhealthy about her." Mother pulled her away, sounding worried. "She's a very robust little girl."

"You can never tell with babies." Medra sounded tranquil and even happy about that. I gathered it was just her way, but Alina flinched defensively. "I can see her veins beneath her skin."

"She's naturally pale and she's not been outside much yet. It's normal and she'll grow out."

Rather than taking the argument further – it was rather concerning if Medra, who was older and presumably more experienced, thought I might have health concerns – the old woman stiffened at a sound. "Ah, here he comes."

Mother's arms tightened a little more and she backed up a step, watching the gateway. Sure enough, half a dozen men entered, all dressed rather better than mother or Medra.

For most of them it was a matter of detail, for they wore the same long tunics and pants that seemed ubiquitous among the people I'd seen so far - save for children who often didn't have the pants. But these clothes were better made, with additional embroidery and the sort of cut that told an educated eye that these had been tailored specifically for them, rather than adjusted from a few fairly standard sizes.

And the one who dominated the group effortlessly was even more striking, with long blue-black hair tied into a partial bun and the rest forming a long tail behind him. It was more blue than black, an unusual colour for one of entirely human heritage. His clothes were the finest and he wore an open-fronted robe over his tunic, rich silk lining visible and even more costly fur at the collar and cuffs.

Most striking all were the swords. A long, sturdy baldric supported a straight blade at one hip – the scabbard as long as a man's arm and the guard of blue jadesteel, suggesting the blade might be the same. A second, far longer sword with an elegant curve to it, was supported across his back; and while the hilt glittered with jewels and silver, I suspected that it too was jadesteel.

Daiklaves. The swords of Exalted, forged as much of magic as steel.

This man was Exalted, almost certainly Dragon-Blooded of the Air-aspect. His garments were blue, the colour associated with that element, and he had a mon – the traditional badge of a Dragon-Blooded family or gentes - emblazoned over his heart although from this angle I couldn't see it clearly. Particularly as I was bobbed up and down by my mother curtseying.

"Exalted lord," she offered in a humble greeting. Unencumbered by me, Medra clasped her hands in salute as she too offered obeisance.

He looked at mother, then at me. "I see, Alina. So, this is your child?" Huh. That wasn't the local dialect, it was High Realm – a derivative of Old Realm used by the upper crust of the Blessed Isle. Not unlikely to have survived as a distinction, but not what I'd have expected.

"Yes, lord." Mother held me out for him to inspect more closely, which gave me a look at him in return. The badge was a triangle inside a circle, differenced slightly from those I'd seen before. Last time I'd seen a mon looking like this it was born by members of Gens Tepet, a great house sworn to the Scarlet Empress and her dynasty. They had been good allies in those last times of Creation, it would please me if this man was a sign that they lived on.

His own inspection was curious, but fastidious, with his hands clasped behind him and no attempt to take hold of me himself. "I see that the rumours are correct. She has the stamp of a dragon already."

Did I!? Well that was promising!

"I… would not wish…" Mother stammered.

"No, no. Quite right," he added with a condescending smile. "You are an educated woman, Alina, so you will be aware it would be presumptuous to assume that the blood will flower. We may safely assume that the child has a strong touch of the blood, but that is still no certainty."

He was right. The children of powerful Dragon-Blooded may show some of the physical traits of their supernatural parents but that alone is no guarantee of exaltation. Still, it was a very good sign. Even if I didn't exalt, chances were good that I might one day have exalted children if I married 'the right type'.

"Her father would be…"

Mother pulled me back against herself and looked down at me. "I was… seduced by one of your guests, lord." The hesitation did not escape me. "Lord Ragara Nova is the only man whose company I… enjoyed at the dates on which my daughter must have been conceived."

The man gestured dismissively. "Nonsense, my dear Alina. The aftermath of your pregnancy has doubtless clouded your recollection of some trysts we enjoyed in the spring."

"I…"

Medra coughed. "Of course, my lord. Alina merely did not want to raise matters that could introduce discord between yourself and your lady wife."

The Dragon-Blood turned his gaze upon her and I shivered for a second in my mother's arms. Then he smiled coldly. "Such loyalty," he murmured. Extending one hand he cupped mother's head from behind and kissed her dispassionately upon the brow. I got a rather closer look at his chest than I really wanted and had to resist the urge to spit on his tunic.

"I shall acknowledge and adopt the child," the Tepet declared. "I must set a good example to my sons and grandsons. Let there be no further discussion of Ragara Nova being the father. Our child shall grow up in the nursery of my household and be reared to all the advantages of her paternal ancestry."

Mother hesitated and then curtseyed again. "May I ask the honour of granting her my name to take with her into her auspicious life, my lord?"

He inclined his head. "You understand then."

"I… am not unfamiliar with such cases as have been mentioned in your correspondence."

"It is indeed best that she not suffer any stigma from having a servant as her mother," he agreed.

What? What!

If he'd still been in range, I would have spat on him for sure. Maybe even gummed him if a finger came in reach!

Stigma! You snobby ass! I waved my arms as best I could. If my fingers had cooperated then certain ancient gestures of contempt would have been directed towards him. Mother jiggled me up and down a little in an attempt to calm me.

What the hell sort of society did this world have? Who'd brought that sort of nonsense in? We never tolerated it in Methelan or Denandsor!

"I believe that my household's affairs in the city would benefit from direct oversight of a dedicated manager," the man continued smoothly. "You have long deserved such advancement and the increased salary. It pleases me to have found a suitable avenue to reward you, and as the mother of my child there will be an additional stipend."

Alina managed a "Thank you," that didn't sound bitter as much as resigned. "You do me great honour."

"You have given me a gift," the man replied blandly. "Perhaps a very great gift indeed. And our daughter Alina will have the best of lives. Surely you will be rewarded for this in the next life, but I shall do what I can in this one."

---

Medra was the one who carried me out of the creche the next time I left it. After the Tepet left, mother had sat with me under the tree for a long while, playing with my little fingers – counting and recounting them as if one might go missing – and stroking my hair. I hugged her as best I could and, on the one opportunity given, I gave her cheek a soft baby kiss.

What else could I do? I couldn't toddle after her when she was sent away - as she evidently was being, even if it came with what sounded like a career advancement. For that matter I couldn't crawl after her either.

Ghosts and demons! I couldn't even roll myself over. And wouldn't that be a ridiculous sight, a baby rolling over and over down a road after a woman?

Eventually I tired myself out, which really didn't take much in my current state. When I was nodding away, Alina carried me back to the creche and… I didn't see her when I woke up. I realised, as I stared up at that humble ceiling, that I might never see her again.

It hit surprisingly hard. I'd only known her for a few weeks and out of everyone I'd known in my previous life, I could think of any number of people I'd spent more time with. I am not noted for being excessively sentimental. Kind, certainly, and courteous when the time suits it. Cruelty is no virtue. But I had become fond of her surprisingly fast. Perhaps, as a baby, I knew my mother by instinct.

Whatever the reason, I was notably tetchy the next day and managed enough control of my limbs to bat irritably at the bottle of warm milk that Medra tried to feed me from. Not enough to break it, even by knocking it from her hand on the floor – her grip was far too firm for that.

"Temper temper," she chided me in a pleasant voice and let me wait it out before I gave in and accepted being fed.

"It's as if she knows she's one of the lord's family now," one of the other carers muttered.

Medra arched one eyebrow in a reproving manner. "She's wise enough even this young to know someone is gone. And you should hope the little one doesn't recall you being this sour if you meet her again."

"She's just a baby."

"Just the lord's baby now." Medra wiped my face from where some milk had spilled despite my best efforts and wriggled one finger in front of me. "Little Alina's aware enough of what's around her. Who knows what she hears and makes of it?"

"Heh, well she can't speak yet. She won't understand."

"Words, no. But tone. You always knew someone's mood when you were her age, little Caitri. I remember that, from when you were in a cradle in this very room."

The younger woman shut up sharply at that rejoinder.

Medra dressed me this time before we left. It was a finer garment than the sack-with-arms I'd been in last time, I guessed that it had been sent by the Lord's family. It would not be proper for their new adoptee to be dressed like a servant or some such nonsense.

Still, it was sturdy and practical for a child to wear – and fitted me better if we're being honest. It was a single garment with proper legs ending in little booties for my little footies. The cloth was sturdy and suitable for being cleaned easily, but the front had been embroidered in blue patterns and there was lace around the collar and the wrists, which felt soft to my fingers.

Noticing me rubbing at the lace, the old woman laughed lightly. "You're moving up in the world, little Alina. You should start getting used to the finer things in life."

Finer things? I could do better than this. "Ua!" Well, I could have done better than this, back when my fingers were more than an inch long and had some sort of grip.

She laughed at the look on my face and then picked up a little bonnet with more lace on it. I did my best to convey 'you have got to be kidding' with my expression. Medra laughed again, so she might have understood, but she pulled it over my head anyway and knotted it under my little chin.

I clawed at it with my tiny fingers, but I couldn't get a good grip to pull the strap past me.

"Oh, you don't like it, eh?" she told me, scooping me up from the cradle. "Well too bad, little Alina. You should have worn it last time but his lordship wouldn't have been able to get as good a look at you."

"Wa!"

"It's warm out, we need to protect you from sunstroke." Medra pinched my cheek. "As pale as you are, you might sunburn and then you'd be a real cranky little miss."

Sunburn. Oh. I was a mortal now. That sort of thing just wasn't an issue for Exalted, but back before I'd exalted, I'd had sunburns and they'd been pretty miserable. I didn't really want that when I couldn't scratch or even explain I needed some salve. And the peeling… "Ooo." I burbled compliantly.

"Ha-ha, it's as if you understand." The old woman jogged me up and down in her arms. (I say old, but I mean mortally. She was maybe fifty or sixty? It was probable the Tepet jerk was much older than she was, maybe even twice as much. Hopefully whoever the local leaders were, someone would remind him that he wasn't part of a Dynastic house anymore and our realm was considerably more egalitarian than the moribund one the Scarlet Empress had built around herself.

With the happy thought of him getting his comeuppance, I let her slide me into some straps and then put her own arms through the loops. Much to my disappointment, this left me resting face first against her apron. I could feel one of her shoulder bones pressing my cheek through the high collared apron - I assume she didn't want me dribbling on the clothes beneath.

"There we go," Medra assured me, patting the top of the bonnet. "It's a while since I carried a child like this but you don't weigh anything worth mentioning.

Of course I don't, I'm only a season or so old! It's a bit extreme as a weight-loss programme though.

Since I wasn't going to get much of a view, I closed my eyes for a moment, resting against her warm apron…

---

With a start I woke up. Had I drifted off again?

I had, I realised as the strapping was carefully taken off me. "There you go, how did she like being carried around?" asked someone.

Medra cradled me so I could see around. "Oh, Alina was fine, she slept the entire way." Why was she so smug about that?

We were in a room not all that dissimilar from that I was used to – cribs and cots of various sizes, a thick carpet and some well-padded leather seats along the side of the room. As Medra turned, looking around for herself, I saw cupboards and a door leading through to what was probably a small kitchen and storeroom.

There were toys heaped in an open chest but no one was playing with them at the moment. The air was warm and still, I heard someone snoring softly.

"It'll be nice to have another well-behaved child," the other woman decided. She kept her voice low, perhaps not wanting to wake whoever was sleeping. "Some of the others are a little needy."

Medra nodded and turned to lay me down in the nearest cot. It was smaller than I was used to – not that it made much difference at my size. I could stretch out my arms and just barely touch either side with my fingers, a feat just barely within my current coordination so I did just that. "Uaaaa?"

"There there," she soothed me, and rubbed my cheek. "Hmm, you're not too warm. That's good."

I clawed at the bonnet strap again, hoping that she'd get the hint. Unfortunately, she turned away to her companion. "I gather I'll be helping to mind the nursery at night?"

"Yes. We wouldn't normally put the newest member of the nursery staff on the night shift, but I gather that you have experience." She looked down at me. "I see, she does have pale skin." Reaching down the woman ran a measuring finger down my chin. Her touch was a little chill and I pulled my face away from her finger as best I could.

That didn't seem to bother her and she ushered Medra aside to another cot. "There are three other children here at the moment. The twins are best apart. Little Nalan is delicate compared to his brother and Doreg keeps trying to play with him so we keep them at opposite sides of the room…"

They were too far away to hear clearly so I tried again to pull the bonnet strap away and over my chin so I could get rid of the thing. No luck, my fingers just wouldn't dig in to get hold of it. I held one hand up and examined it ruefully. They weren't up to the task yet.

There was something to what had been said about my skin. It was pale and veins running beneath it gave my hands a marble-like appearance. I was used to it, an Earth-aspected Exalt usually looked craggy and stonelike but I had been a little more polished in appearance during my last life. It might have carried over from my last life. If so, I wonder if my hair would be coppery again. The wisps of hair that had fallen out before had been lighter, but that didn't mean much of anything at this age and it was too short to tell.

Running one hand up my face I finally found a little slack in the bonnet strap right in front of my ear and rubbed at it, trying to get a grip. Instead, all I managed to do was force it back onto my ear, pinching at it. "Wah!" Irritated I tried to work it back but it wasn't working. "Wah! Wah!!" I complained.

"Naaaaa!" came a protesting wail from the next cot over.

"Oh, for the heaven's sake!" the woman from earlier exclaimed, rushing back. She ignored me to scoop a baby out of the other cot. "I thought she was quiet!"

Medra reached me and pulled the bonnet strap off my ear. Then for a mercy she pulled the strap over my chin and peeled the offensive garment off my head entirely. "Oh, she just doesn't like having her head covered," she said tolerantly.

"Just don't let her set the whole pack off," the other woman hissed, rocking the pale-haired child soothingly in her arms. "Oh, this one's hungry now…"

---

I was vaguely baffled as I was carried out into the sunlight of the porch of the manse that made up the centre of the household. Ishah, the woman who'd welcomed Medra (if that was the right word for it), was carrying me with the more familiar woman in attendance. Apparently, she was the chief of the household's full-time nannies and therefore considered it her responsibility to carry me in what was apparently a formal occasion.

Although, I suppose that an adoption would be quite a formal occasion. I was dressed up in the little romper suit again for the occasion, although I'd been wearing a tiny tunic over my nappy all the time, in the nursery - as if it was beneath a child of the household to be laid to rest in just a glorified piece of towel - and the hated bonnet had returned.

None of that was what puzzled me though. No, the issue was what I could see. Ishah was holding me cradle-fashion so I could see up and off to the side and there was a vast mountain rearing up above the household. Not that it was that exclusive. Even from my quite limited vantage, it seemed likely that it loomed over half the countryside.

It wasn't the largest mountain I'd ever seen – Meru, or the Imperial Mountain, was visible from anywhere on the Blessed Isle and some places across the Inland Sea. Creation being flat, only haze meant that you couldn't see it from anywhere, but even so, anywhere in thousands of miles was 'in the shadow' of the Imperial Mountain.

But this one must be almost as large and it was roughly the same shape as well.

Had this been a conscious decision when my friends created the new Pole of Earth? Had Gethamane, the mountain city where we'd found it, been buried under this great peak? Why would they do so? Meru was grand, certainly, but it was also a massive pain in the neck for travel because it sat squarely in the middle of the Blessed Isle and forced massive detours to get around it. Even skyships had to avoid it because the air currents were turbulent at best.

Granted, much of that was damage from the opening battle of Usurpation, fifteen or so centuries ago, but surely something less ostentatious could have been done?

Unless somehow this was just some other mountain that had happened to form, but still…

I felt no pull towards it, but that was normal for a mortal even if it felt strange not to have an instinctive knowledge of where the Pole of Earth was. Or knowing the exact time. Would I need to own a clock?

I wasn't taken into the manse itself, fortunately. Going into the black stone ziggurat and not feeling the essence that must be distilled from the dragonlines by the geomancy would just be strange – like visiting one in the Underworld where the dragonlines were inflected and only the dead or those on the cusp of it could feel them.

Instead, the ceremony took place on broad steps outside, removed by an ornamental rail from the steps that led up the side of the ziggurat itself. Many of the household staff were assembled lower down them with blue-clad men and women to the sides. Mortal relatives, I guessed. There were two other children present, both around five or six years old, but none that were older. That made sense, I supposed. Likely they would be at school. Boarding schools were normal for the Scarlet Dynasty and since this Tepet branch apparently kept to those ways, I'd expect them to send their children away in that same fashion. An immaculate monk stood off to the side, separate from but notionally equal to the mortal family to judge by where he was stood.

The jerk was there, standing in the centre with a tall woman whose hair was caught up in a tiara that bore a greenish-black gem cut into a jagged triangle. As I was carried closer, I realised that it hadn't been cut into that shape, it must have fallen into that shape naturally, for it was a hearthstone. Almost certainly that of the manse we were standing in front of. I wasn't sure what that meant for the family dynamic though – usually the hearthstone was placed with the owner of the manse, who I would expect to be the head of the household.

There was nothing unusual in the jerk being junior – women were just as likely as men to head a household of a gente. After all, exaltation didn't care about one's gender so why would the Exalted? But for him to claim me as a bastard and bring me in suggested that he was very confident in his position. Was he her sibling perhaps? Their faces didn't suggest any particular likeness and the woman lacked any obvious markers of exaltation save that no dynast would ever allow a mere mortal to hold a hearthstone…

At what seemed to be almost the last moment, a young-looking woman stepped out to join the couple at the head of the ceremony. Save for the hairstyle, she looked very much like the older woman so I guessed she was a daughter or younger sister. They stood together by a table and brazier, the former holding paper, ink bottles and brushes so there was probably going to be… shudder… paperwork.

Ugh. I had patsies to do that for me. Well, I doubt they'd want me to sign anything. I doubt I could even hold a brush.

"My family and honoured guests," declaimed the jerk. "I welcome you to this happy occasion as my family welcomes a new member. Let all the heavens watch us, as the Imperial Mountain does this day, as my daughter Alina is formally enrolled into House Tepet."

There was a murmur of approval as Ishah and Medra brought me forwards and I was handed over to the man.

He did at least seem to know what he was doing and kept my head supported properly as he displayed me to the gathering. "I, Tepet Demarol, born of the line of Tepet, proclaim that this is my child Alina. She is mine to support, mine to teach and to discipline, mine to protect and to employ for the greater glory of House Tepet, of the Scarlet Dynasty and of all the Realm."

Uh, help? "Miii?" My query was lost in the applause.

The tiaraed woman accepted me next and gave me a long and assessing look before nodding in apparent satisfaction. Turning me in her arms to look out at those on the steps, she inadvertently let me see that Demarol – I knew that name from somewhere, I just couldn't place it! – was signing his name with a brush on a document laid out on a table at the top of the steps.

"I, Tepet Yrina, acknowledge that this child Alina is the child of my husband's loins," she declared in a confident voice. I wasn't sure for a moment what she intended to do about that fact. "I formally and before you all, acknowledge that this child is from this day my own child also, in the eyes of the law, to guide and educate in the traditions of the Realm and to extend and strengthen our house."

Well, I hadn't expected her to dash my brains out on the steps but that was more than I'd expected. Bastards usually don't get that much attention in the gentes, even if their potential to exalt makes them valuable. Still, I was relieved to be passed back to Ishah and watched as Yrina took the brush from Demarol and quickly inked her own name beside his own.

They repeated this twice more on further pieces of parchment, which I guessed must be triplicate copies. Very officious.

With this done, the younger woman took out a bowl from the brazier beside the table and tipped a small puddle of wax onto each document. Removing a ring from his thumb, Demarol stamped it down on the wax, impressing it with what was probably the Tepet mon, or whatever personal variant of it he used.

"I stand as witness," the young woman declared, lifting a brush and dipping it into a separate pot of ink. In red ink she added what I guessed was her own signature. "Here, on the last day of Resplendent Fire, Seven Hundred and Forty-Ninth year of Her Most Scarlet Majesty, Empress of the Blessed Isle and Shogun of the Realm, I, Tepet -"

Wait, wait wait! "Uaaauaaaa!?" 749th year of the WHAT?

The woman paused and gave Ishah a firm look. It was largely unnecessary, the nanny clearly had experience and I found a rubber pacifier stuffed into my mouth to shut me up as the monk came up to add his own signature as a witness.

The Scarlet Empress had reigned for over eight centuries! By the time I unleashed the Kukla, it had been… uh, eight hundred and sixty-nine years from the Great Contagion, which should almost exactly match up to the years of her reign, since she declared herself Empress right around the end of the Contagion and of the Balorian Crusade that followed it.

Had I gone back in time!?

That's… impossible. You can't travel backwards in time! It's flatly one of the very few immutable laws of Creation's very structure. Not even the Primordials could do that – which is a good thing or their overthrow by the Incarnae and the Exalted would have been undone. The linear progression of time underlies fundamentally every aspect of Creation. It's why the wyldlings outside hate us so – causality is alien and monstrous in their eyes.

The only times anything had ever come close to breaking time had been when the Calendar of Setesh was damaged, severing time in the Underworld from that of Creation until it was repaired at the end of the Spectre War that followed the Usurpation, and the Cascading Years when civil war among the Solar Exalted broke… Creation… oh.

The first thing that went through my mind was: Radiant Bright Wing must never know. After that I got to obscenities and profanities, of which I know quite a few.

"I think she may be teething," Ishah whispered as she handed me over to Medra.

The older woman nodded sagely and I continued to swear to myself. No wonder Tepet Demarol was acting like a dynast at the height of the Scarlet Dynasty's power. This really was the height of their power. If this was one of the households of House Tepet, then the Exalt was only two steps removed from the single most politically powerful person in all Creation.

I didn't really have a detailed knowledge of the Tepet sub-Gentes at this time – most of my acquaintance with the Tepet had been years from now, after they'd been forced through a brutal rebuilding after the horrific losses they took fighting the Bull of the North around the time of…

My eyes went wide as the implications sank in. It had been more than a century, but there were so many tragedies and disasters that were now in the future and might be averted. So much I could do, now that…

Then a new sensation sank in and I screwed my eyes shut again with frustration. Right. First things first. Now, how to signal to Medra that I needed a fresh nappy?

 

[toxinvictory]

Okay consider me really interested in seeing how this develops.

 

[Jaertin]

Usually I avoid 'reincarnated as a baby' stories like the plague, but damn! I'm glad I made an exception for this one!

 

[drakensis]

I'd adjusted to my new home and lifestyle with relative ease. It wasn't all that different from that I'd enjoyed as the daughter of Tepet Demarol's now-former secretary (Ishah had dropped that bit of information while introducing the other day staff to me) except in minor details.

After a season or so it was hard at times to remember that I'd been anywhere else. Even Alina's face was a bit of a blur in my memory. If I ever Exalted, there were charms to be able to use to refresh those memories but right now… well, maybe it was being a baby or maybe it was just being a mortal…

Yeah, the sad fact is, even the most exceptional humans are at a disadvantage, if not an insurmountable one, when pitted against the Exalted. It was a humbling reminder of how little I'd appreciated it at times.

The entertainment value of a mobile suspended above my cot or the rattle I'd been offered (though only at times when the other children were awake already) was a bit limited. Holding the rattle gave me a chance at getting to grips with, um, gripping things but there wasn't all that much in the way of intellectual stimulation.

So, in the absence of anyone to tell me 'that's a stupid idea', I spent a while meditating and trying to mould my essence.

And yes, it is a stupid idea.

For Exalted, it's natural, something that puts us on a level with lesser spirits, demons and other spiritual beings. It's almost entirely instinctive to do so, at least for some basic levels and only the most cripplingly inept Exalt stops at that. Can you imagine a Water-aspected Terrestrial Exalt drowning? Of course not! (They might not be able to swim, but they wouldn't need to. Water-aspects can walk on water as easily as they can on grass.)

Mortals have much more trouble with it. We're simply not designed for it.

When the Primordials took the First Man away from Autochthon and decided to make a slave race based on his template, they had simple specifications: we had to be able to feed ourselves, make more of ourselves and pray. The last being the most important since we were to be providers of the prayers they feed upon.

If that sounds like cattle then you're exactly right.

Manipulating essence was absolutely not on the list. Which is not to say that a mortal can't do it, if they try hard enough. It takes years of contemplation, frequently augmented by medication. (Or a direct act of a spirit who is doing you a favour or thinks it'll be funny). It's usually traumatic and it still offers markedly less return than most Exalted get out of the ability.

Enlightenment is the process of awakening that first spark of essence within you, and for mortals it's usually reserved for the sagely hermit, the reckless would-be sorcerer or the dedicated martial artist. Most mortal authorities don't approve very much of the last two of those. Exalted authorities vary, but the Scarlet Dynasty disapproved strongly of the first two and would grant limited tolerance to the latter solely if they were students of and regulated by the Immaculate Order, as a side-order to the monks' more important duty of keeping spirits in their proper places and mortals offering them proper worship… and only the proper worship.

To be completely fair to the Order, most of what they did was good and necessary work. And channelling enlightened mortals into the ranks of the monks reinforced their manpower in a healthy fashion. It was something to aspire to if you didn't Exalt.

Of course, they also got expended in place of Dragon-Blooded during the Wyld Hunts that were called to exterminate Celestial Exalted if they were heard of.

For those who come from more enlightened times (no pun intended), during this era the Solar Exalted had been all but exterminated, mysteriously failing to Exalt in anything like their previous numbers. Without the Solars, the Lunar Exalted had mostly retreated to the furthest corners of Creation (where most of them were more comfortable anyway) and those that remained were murdered as quickly as possible by Dragon-Blooded who liked being top of the power totem. There was a theological doctrine justifying this by claiming Solars and Lunars weren't really Exalted (lies), were dangerously insane (unfortunately true due to a curse laid by the Neverborn, but also technically true of the Terrestrial Exalted) and probably demonically possessed (mostly false).

Enlightened mortals, being exemplars of skill and determination just to get to that stage, were statistically more likely to attract a celestial shard which was another reason for the powers that be to look poorly on them. Sometimes I think the only reason even the Immaculate Order tolerated them was that the Sidereal Exalted, who were busy pretending not to exist, found it a good way to prepare those destined to join their ranks for supernatural martial arts training.

So, in short, controlling your own essence is perhaps the most demanding thing any mortal could hope to do and it has a not insubstantial chance of crippling you if you get it wrong. Plus, if you do manage it, most sensible people will want to have firm conversations about keeping it to approved channels.

None of that makes it in any way appropriate as an activity for a baby who can't even sit up yet.

But on the other hand, I was really bored. Really really bored.

I'd mastered rolling over and sucking my toes; but Medra had commented, and in fairness I agree with her, that I wasn't physically strong enough to sit up or crawl. Baby proportions being what they are, my head made up too much of my overall body for my neck to support yet. If I wasn't flat on my face or my back, I needed someone to support my head for it.

And so, when the nursery door opened, I was breathing steadily and staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes as I contemplated the essence of my own self and tried to isolate a single mote of it.

It wasn't going terribly well, but the door opening got my attention. Or rather, the lack of response from the nurse who should have stood up or said something. She was as much a guard as anything else. Was something wrong?

Blinking my eyes, which were a little dry, I made the herculean effort to roll over and angle myself to look over the edge of the cot at the door. What I saw was a dark aged boy of six. I think he might have been at the adoption ceremony but perhaps not. I hadn't got a good look at anyone but those directly involved. He was dressed pretty well though, in silk tunic and trousers that were finely detailed but obviously cut to let him grow into them.

But in any case, I knew what he was, if not who he was: entertainment.

"Goa!" I proclaimed and waggled my hands in his direction.

The boy ducked his head and looked around frantically, relaxing as he saw something on the far side of my cot.

Whatever it was, I couldn't spot it from here so I did my party-piece and rolled over again to get to the other side of my cot. Of course, having done that I was so dizzy that I had to stop and catch my breath. Eventually, however, I managed to pick out that Usha, the day nurse on duty this afternoon, had apparently succumbed to the quiet and to the muggy weather. She was leaning back in her chair at the side of the room and snoozing.

She'd be in trouble if she was caught, I noted. On the other hand, that left me unsupervised and with a visitor, which was the most exciting thing to happen in… however long. I wasn't sleeping regularly enough to have a good idea of the calendar.

When I looked up, I saw the boy peering down at me in the cot quizzically.

"Zagu!" I greeted him and waggled my arms welcomingly. Hello entertainment, entertain me!

He took my hand and ran his fingers over mine cautiously. "Little fingernails," he noticed in some surprise, although he kept his voice low.

I'm not sure what he expected, but since he was right, I patted the back of his hand in congratulation. I probably shouldn't have though, since he took that as encouragement and reached out and pinched my cheek.

Not the gentle tickle-like pinch of Medra, no he did it seriously.

"Wauuuu!" I protested, eyes watering beyond my control and flailing as much as I could, which wasn't much.

He released me hastily and glanced at Usha guiltily. She didn't stir – obviously a heavy sleeper. "Wauu…" I repeated in a quieter voice and sniffled, trying to control the snot that had decided to start flowing in imitation of my tears.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe at my face. I rubbed my nose and eyes on it as best I could and then gave him a smile when he removed it. He was obviously trying his best.

Leaning over he examined me again. "Are you Opiha?"

"'pa?" I managed. Hmm. No, that was the other girl in here. She was about my age I guessed – we couldn't exactly talk and compare. I had a vague impression that she had light hair from occasional glances at her when I was out of my cot for some reason. We were sleeping next to each other, barriers to the twins who were a bit older and crawling, the lucky snots.

He nodded. "Opiha. I'm your brother Icole." He placed one hand over his heart and bowed slightly. "My tutor wouldn't let me in to see you until now."

Oops, I guess he'd thought I was confirming my identity. It might be fun to trick him, but it would be bad in the long run. "'Cul," I managed, waving my hand at him.

"That's right, I'm Icole," the boy confirmed.

I rolled partway over and waved in the direction of the next cot. "'Pa!"

"Yes, you're Opiha!"

I shook my head as best I could. "'Na!" Then waved at the other cot. "'Pa!"

He frowned. "No?"

I finally slumped onto my back. Staying on my side was hard! "Na!" I said again, patting my chest. Then I stretched one hand as far towards the other cot. "'Pa!"

He turned away and investigated, "Opiha?"

There wasn't a reply, which really didn't surprise me. She was probably dead to the world, poor baby. At least she probably wasn't as bored as me.

I wondered what would happen to Icole. He was probably born around 743 or so, which meant… I made a face. If he went for a soldier, which was a fairly typical career in House Tepet, then he'd probably be in the legions facing the Bull of the North in fifteen years or so. Which meant nine chances out of ten that he'd be killed.

My eyes started to water again, all on their own. Stupid immature body.

---

The occasional visits by Icole over the following months were something of a highlight of my first year as a Tepet. I might not be his actual sister, but since it was likely as not that one of us was asleep, he was more than happy to play with me. Particularly once I was out of the cot and crawling.

He even proved himself a true dynast-in-training when Usha woke up during his third visit and blackmailed her into giving him access in the future and not telling his tutor that he was in here. I'm not sure how much trouble he'd get into for being here, but I'm fairly sure it was nothing compared to the amount of grief Usha would get for falling asleep on duty.

She certainly never dared do it again, so that was a good thing. After all, I needed someone on attention to feed me, change my nappy and everything else I couldn't do myself. A list that became a little shorter once I was able to sit up, scoot around my cot on my bottom (somewhat to the detriment of my nappy) and finally crawl.

Crawling around on the carpeted nursery floor was all very well, but after a while it was just about as familiar as the inside of a cot. I'd been moved into a larger one with high railed sides to keep me from getting out on my own, so it was pretty much like having my own cell.

Yes, I tried the 'raking a cup along the bars' thing until Medra took it off me and swatted my behind.

The toy chest was good for a little entertainment. Most of it didn't suit me, but a stuffed tyrant lizard gave me something to practise lifting and carrying in my cot without disturbing anyone. And if Doreg wasn't hoarding the blocks to make castles for his toy soldiers, I could play with those.

But by the time I was making my first stab at walking, I hadn't left the nursery room in over a year, and I was sure of that because Calibration - the five days that ended a calendar year - had been celebrated twice since the adoption ceremony. All I had to look forward to was the vague promise of lessons coming up, but even those would have to wait until I could get my tongue to co-operate in talking clearly.

So, yes, it was feeling increasingly prison-like. Medra, bless her, noticed my increasing unhappiness and one morning I woke up to find her still there – as I got better at sleeping through the night, I'd wound up seeing less and less of her.

"I think she's a little bit young to be allowed out," Ishah was arguing half-heartedly. "I prefer that the children remain here until they're old enough for lessons."

"But this is a lesson," Medra offered with a charming smile and more confidence than their relative positions in the household should have conveyed. She was older and, I suspect, wiser than Ishah. "The lesson is, if you behave well and don't make a mess of your breakfast, you get rewarded."

The two nannies gave me thoughtful looks and I tried to look innocent. I didn't mean to drop my plate onto the floor the day before. I was trying to be helpful and give my mostly cleaned plate to Ishah. The fact that the 'not cleaned' parts of the plate included cold noodles that might be soft enough for my fledgling teeth but tasted disgusting was a coincidence. Truly.

And it was a wooden plate. Nothing had been broken!

I'm not sure how convinced they were, but the morning routine followed its usual path except that it was Medra, not one of the day nannies, helping me out of the nightdress and changing my nappy. And no, it didn't matter that I hadn't soiled it. Fresh day, fresh nappy was the rule. I think they'd have been less intransigent on this if they didn't have laundry maids to foist cleaning the nappies on.

Once that was on, a fresh tunic that was so flared to fit over my nappy that it was a dress in all but name (for some reason a 'proper dress' was reserved for adults) and then a recent addition, knee-length bloomers.

I am convinced that I looked a complete idiot, but there weren't any mirrors around and I wasn't being given a choice.

Medra lifted me into a high chair for breakfast with rather more effort than she'd needed a year ago. I was growing, if not as quickly as I would have liked. There were four high chairs now and we were lined up in much the same way as the cots were – for about the same reason. Nalan was sitting sulkily next to my chair with Doreg happily seated beyond the empty fourth chair. The blond boy had taken up his spoon and was drumming it on the tray in front of him, less impatiently and more – I believe – because it made a noise.

He may also have been rubbing it in that he was the only one of us who had been given a spoon so that he could feed himself. Nalan had demanded the same privilege but after that ended with the twins flinging food at each other, it had been denied.

A cheerful Opiha was dropped into the remaining chair, where she rubbed her eyes and then beamed at everyone. She was dressed the same way I was, but on her it looked cute. At first glance she seemed to be an albino with snow-white hair and crimson-irised eyes, but there was nothing unhealthy about it. If anything, her skin pallor was healthier looking than mine.

Breakfast was rice, mixed with fruit and – to my pleasure, a soft-boiled egg. Medra spooned it up matter-of-factly, gripping it firmly and refusing my attempts to take the spoon. "No, Alina," she told me firmly. "Don't play with your food. If you're good we can go for a walk after breakfast."

"Wa-" I started to ask and then got food spooned into my mouth. I glared at her, chewed and swallowed. Covering my mouth so she couldn't do that again, I asked "Weally walk?" Damned lisp.

"Yes, really take a little walk around outside."

I lowered my hands and let her feed me the rest of breakfast. Outside might as well have been a magic word. Even if I saw nothing I hadn't seen before, at least I'd get out of the nursery for a while.

"Want walk!" Nalan protested from next to me.

Ishah sighed heavily.

"Can you walk across the whole nursery?" Medra asked the boy.

He nodded eagerly and then wilted when she gave him a sceptical look. "No," the greyish-blonde haired boy admitted.

The old woman used her free hand to pat him reassuringly on the head. "When you can then I'll take you out on a walk too. Just one of you at a time though." Then she looked back at me. "I'm not trying to keep two of you out of trouble out there."

I nodded in understanding. "Dat fair." Argh. Why were 'th' sounds so hard for my tongue?

"Me too, me too!" exclaimed Opiha, clapping her hands and then leaning forwards to practically suck a mouthful of rice off the spoon Usha was holding.

"Of course," agreed Medra reasonably. It wasn't as if she'd have to honour that for a while. Opiha was still working on standing for any length of time when she had something to lean on.

With breakfast over, I thought we'd go for the walk right away – after all, Medra had been up overnight, so she would probably just want to take a short walk, then bring me back once I was tired out enough to want a nap.

But no, this made it dress up time again, for it was autumn and Ishah was bound and determined that if I was going outside that I should be fully dressed for it.

So, in addition to shoes – or rather socks with thick leather soles sewn to them – I got trousers for the first time. Over, not instead of, the bloomers. And a quilted coat that might be appropriate for deep winter, but in what seemed to be rather temperate weather made me feel overheated already.

And that was before I got the hat.

"No." I stared at the furry cap they were offering.

Medra put her hands on her hips. "No walk?"

I pointed at the cap. "Too hot."

"Would you rather wear the bonnet?" she asked me.

I sighed. I look stupid anyway. "Bonnet then." At least that wouldn't overheat me.

The bonnet, of course, was now far too small for me. It had been a year and I'd outgrown it. Finally, we compromised and Medra took the cap with us but I didn't have to wear it unless it seemed like I was too cold.

Finally, we were ready and I got to approach the door, one hand firmly in Medra's while the other nannies kept their charges from trying to break out with me.

Outside the room was a courtyard that I'd seen before on the way to my formal adoption. It did differ somewhat – there were no laundry poles for one, and the tree at one end was a weeping willow rather than a chestnut. It was also nearer to the nursery entrance and thus its fronds served as a partial barrier to the far end where a small group were doing something.

Walking slowly, so as not to lose my balance – and occasionally having to rely on Medra's grip for the same reason – I made my way along the covered porch to investigate and saw Icole and two other children of a similar age being drilled in a martial arts kata by an older man.

I'd have waved but it would be poor form to distract them from their training. Instead I let Medra draw me further around, keeping my eyes locked on the training session. It seemed that they were working on the mortal basics that underlay the Five Dragons supernatural style. It was a fairly common style among Terrestrial Exalted – a soldier's style, which included the use of the spear and the sword. It didn't surprise me that a House Tepet household would have a sifu for the style.

"Do you like watching them?" the old nanny asked as we walked.

I nodded my head. I'd got a fair grip on Five Dragon style back before – I wouldn't call myself a master but I was pretty good. It was a functional style that suited my preferred approach to fighting.

She let go of my hand and rested her hand on the top of my head. "Hmm, you don't seem cold, let's stand and watch them a little."

I nodded and watched as the sifu worked through a series of forms, showing the children how to do it. It was a familiar set of moves, something that if you channelled essence could rip through an armoured soldier. Even without it, the target would be hit harder than you might expect.

Once he'd demonstrated, the sifu had the children perform it for him and corrected their errors.

Icole seemed to be having trouble, I noted. He had his arms right, but his leg was off-line. I instinctively moved to mimic him, then turned my leg to the correct position, trying to hint where he was going wrong.

He was quick on the uptake; I'll give him that. By the time the teacher reached him, his leg was in the proper place and his moves had a smoothness that they had lacked earlier.

"Good," the man grunted, giving him an approving nod. "Your balance is better."

Medra looked down at me. "Are you bored?"

"No." I shook my head and watched as the group worked through a defensive form to counterbalance the offensive form they'd just done. Icole seemed to have this down, but as I worked through it – as best I could in the coat and with such short limbs – he kept glancing at me for comparison.

I saw the sifu follow the dark-haired boy's gaze and he shook his head. Then there was a thwack as he drove the heel of his hand against Icole's shoulder, sending the boy staggering. "Watch your own form," he said firmly. "Not distractions." Then he turned a withering look towards myself and Medra.

The old woman dipped her head apologetically and took my hand. "Come along, Alina. We're being a bother."

I tried to bow to the sifu in apology, but I didn't have the balance for it and Medra's hand pulled me off my feet. I lost my balance, spinning slightly before I collided with the old woman's leg.

She dropped to a crouch and picked me up. "You must be tired already."

As tempting as it was to protest that, I knew I'd just appear petulant so instead I twisted towards the sifu and offered a dignified apology.

Well, I wish. I lisped, "I'm sowwy." It's not impossible to be dignified and under two feet tall, but it's also not a trick that I've mastered. Particularly when I just almost did a prat-fall.

Surprisingly though, the sifu took it well. "You're not old enough to join in at practise yet. And my current students aren't quite ready to train with distractions around. I'll teach you when you're ready."

"Dank you." I waved to Icole, who discreetly returned the gesture.

Medra shook her head and carried me back towards the nursery. "Well, it's a short walk but given you managed to cause trouble with that…"

"Sowwy," I repeated.

"I'm sure that you are. Perhaps if we try this again, we'll go somewhere else," she offered and I brightened up at the prospect of another expedition. I thought I might have spent more time getting dressed up for this one than I had outside the nursery.

Looking up at the Imperial Mountain, visible over the buildings that surrounded the willow tree, I noticed something and giggled.

"You're in a good mood all of a sudden?"

"Big mountain," I declared proudly.

"Yes, little Alina. It's a very big mountain. The biggest in all of Creation."

That wasn't why I was laughing though. It had just occurred to me. I must be in Juche Prefecture, judging by the angle I was seeing the mountain from. So, I'd been reborn in time… but in space I'd been born only a few miles beneath where I had – or would – die. There was an irony to that.

---

Learning through playing was not exactly a new idea and the nannies started us off on learning to read with bricks marked with letters. I tried to underplay that I knew them all already and tried to make believable mistakes, but incompetence is a deception that comes hard to me and I quickly overtook Nalan, a year older than me. It was hard enough to let his twin win in the little 'say the letter' games.

Once Medra was sure I knew all ninety-five characters (albeit in a simplified script) we went on to learning words. This was serious business, even if we were using wooden blocks. There was a highly official Imperial Vocabulary that children were required to know and be able to say and spell – starting with three thousand words needed for writing instructions in a basic military or bureaucratic role, and then working your way up.

At higher levels, graduating a major secondary school required demonstrating you could correctly use tens or hundreds of thousands of words applicable to the school's focus. Even at the Heptagram, the Realm's one official school of sorcery, spelling bees were a major part of testing. Especially at the Heptagram, in fact, since making a mistake in your spelling or pronunciation when you're summoning or binding a demon can be fatal – and not just for the sorcerer.

At least here I could relax a bit, since High Realm wasn't my first language and I'd never actually been formally educated in it. I spoke the major trading tongues and Old Realm, the tongue from which High Realm was derived, but they were significantly different. Still, I understood the concepts far better than any of the others so caution was indicated.

"She's very bright," Medra reported to Ishah, who seemed unimpressed but guardedly allowed that the excursions of walking around the courtyard (but not when martial arts training was underway) could continue.

Doreg got his own excursions, naturally, and Nalan eventually graduated to them – although he tired quickly and (like me) he was so far still confined to the children's courtyard, as I learned that this part of the village-sized complex around the manse was called. There were others and Doreg, the lucky dog, got to make a passing visit through the stables, one of the guest courtyards and even visiting his mother's quarters in the family courtyard.

On one of those walks he returned with an interloper, or at least that was how it felt.

Toddling was a bit young to be picking up a girl, but at about the time I was first allowed to start trying to recreate letters on a wax tablet, Doreg was walked back in by Usha and they were followed by another servant and a girl who was just a little taller than even the twins. The servant was carrying bags and they were pretty clearly moving her in.

Opiha found the brown-haired girl intimidating for some reason she couldn't express and half-hid behind me as Doreg aped the manners of our elders and introduced us all.

"Cousin Hunt, this is my brother Nalan, he's ill all the time," the blond declared boldly. "And these are the girls. Alina and Opiha with the white hair."

Hunt – the girl's name, I correctly assumed – stalked forwards. "You should curtsey," she corrected us. "'M a lady of the dynasty."

Opiha eeped and tried to obey, but had to lean on me instead. "You shoot curtsey too," I told Hunt. "First, wan you intro-doos yourself." It would have been more effective a put down if I'd been able to handle the pronunciations.

Hunt jerked her head back, but then stumbled on verbally without acknowledging the point. "Which one of you is the ba-steward?"

"Little Hunt!" Ishah gasped, pulling her back. "You should not use the word."

"But it's true," the brunette asserted. "My mama said that grandfather had adopted a ba-steward because she was a dragonseed. And stewards are servants, not dynasts."

Medra gave the servant accompanying Hunt a long, sceptical look. "The word, little Hunt, is bastard." She pronounced it carefully. "It has nothing to do with steward. I will get out the blocks and show you how they are different."

"An excellent idea," Ishah agreed. "And little Alina became your aunt when the lord adopted her, so she will form the fourth branch of the household."

I looked up at that, keeping my fingers interlaced with Opiha's. That sounded useful to know. I didn't really have a good grip on how we were related, or supposedly related, yet. "What are the bwanches?"

Hunt drew herself up. "I'm the daughter of the second branch, ba-steward."

Ishah had apparently had enough of that, because she hoisted Hunt off the floor and carried her to a seat. "I've told you not to use that word," she said firmly. "Now you'll sit there and think about what you did wrong. If it happens again, there will be a spanking."

Usha cleared her throat. "The lord and lady have four living children," she explained to me, subtly drawing the rest of us over towards where Medra was unpacking the blocks with letters on them. "In cases where they have children themselves, they form their own branch of the household. Opiha's grandfather Lord Etune is the head of the first branch, little Hunt's mother lady Erasa is the second branch – although she has been living with her husband until now. And Doreg and Nalan's mother Lady Awyne has founded the third branch."

I nodded slowly to show that I understood, but Nalan chewed his lip. "We should be da second branch," he claimed. "We was here first."

"Your mother is the younger sister of Hunt's mother." Usha smoothed her skirt down. "Just like you're Doreg's younger brother."

"Now, who can guess how to spell steward?" asked Medra, showing us the blocks.

Doreg eagerly plunged in, eager to show his education. He was very proud of how he could recognise words. Fortunately, High Realm was a phonetic language. The hieroglyphs of the Dragon King's High Holy Speech had always given me trouble. (Dragon Kings are nothing to do with Dragon-Bloods, incidentally. They're an almost extinct race of sun-worshipping lizards).

"I want to do it!" Nalan complained. "I can do it."

"Why don't you help little Alina spell adopted," suggested Medra tolerantly.

The boy considered that and then nodded, scrabbling over the blocks looking for ones that sounded right as he read them off aloud. He was a little vague on the concept of 'help' but he was only three.

Opiha crawled forwards to the chest and pulled out a doll that she hugged to herself. Then she studied the doll's hair and discarded it, finding another doll with lighter hair to hug. I sat down next to her and put one arm around her shoulders.

"Once you can spell the words with blocks, we'll see if you can write them in wax."

The two excited boys accelerated their sorting of the blocks, almost coming to blows over the PI block until I crawled over and took hold of it. "Wong block," I said firmly and put it down. "It is not ado-pi-ted."

"That's right, little Alina," confirmed Medra. "What have you boys found so far? Why don't you sort them out and see what you need?"

Once we had the words out, Hunt was allowed off the seat and joined us as four wax tablets were provided, smoothed out since their last use. Opiha was carried off as she wasn't comfortable with writing yet and we four started trying to copy out the two words onto our respective tablets.

My fingers just didn't have the dexterity yet though. I was still so much smaller than the others, still – intellectually I knew that a year or so's difference wasn't going to lapse soon but it was frustrating. I could only clench my little fist around a stylus and draw straight-lines in the wax, but curves always wildly distorted.

Frustrated, I stared at what I'd done. It was so distorted that I couldn't even pretend I had the letters right.

"Perhaps next time," Medra noted and scooped me up. "How about a nap, Alina?"

"Metitate!" I proclaimed. I'd slipped and used the word before, so all I could do was play into it.

The old woman nodded; lips curled in amusement. "Yes, of course, meditation." She moved me into my cot and sat me down. "Don't let us disturb your meditation."

I closed my eyes. "Won't."

Almost, but not quite out of hearing, I heard Usha murmur: "At least she doesn't throw tantrums like Nalan."

"He has a sensitive disposition," Ishah said a little louder. "And don't speak ill of the masters' children."

I tried to ignore them and focus on my essence again. I wasn't making much progress, but there was just enough sensation of it to feel that I was getting somewhere with it. I slowly leaned back, feigning that I was actually falling asleep. The delicate effort to keep myself balanced and only steadily recline rather than slumping down directly would help my abdominal muscles. I was going to need to be fit and healthy for martial arts classes once I was old enough.

Finally, flat on my back I feigned a yawn that drew out much more than I had expected. Maybe I was… a little… tired…?

Zzzzz.

I barely noticed someone pulling a blanket up over me.

---

Before martial arts could begin, it seemed that we were to have some other active classes. They did at least not take place in the nursery so I was enthusiastic right up until I saw the harp outside on the grass next to our teacher for this.

I am, shall we say, not very adept at music. In addition to being basically tone-deaf. Maybe I could have a drum to beat. I can at least keep a regular beat.

There was no drum and any relief at learning the harp was for our teacher was eclipsed by the idea that we would be singing.

"Music is very important for soldiers," the harpist explained. Nolly was an eager looking woman with her hair cropped rather short. "On a long march it keeps the spirits up." She ran her hand over the strings, plucking at them idly. "In camp it entertains. And a singer's voice is important for projecting your words on a battlefield. Both officers and soldiers charged with relaying their words benefit from singing."

She was apparently paying no real attention to her playing as she instructed us. Nalan was definitely interested though, the boy had perked up and was watching her fingers intently.

"And of course, there are the courtly times here at home. I can't count the times I've performed for your grandfather either as the entertainment for his guests or simple background music during a banquet. As children of the household, you're all expected to be competent in arranging such matters and perhaps showing off your talents to guests."

She rubbed her hands together and indicated a chalkboard next to her. "I've written the words to a song here for you to sing, so move closer until you can all read it."

We obediently clustered forward and Usha brought stools out for us to use between singing, Opiha and I at the front while the older three sat behind us.

"Now first just read along as I sing, then we'll all have a go," Nolly instructed.

I recognised the topic of the song – an extremely simplified tale of the Immaculate Dragon Mela learning the secrets of sorcery so she could wield them against the Anathema. A very stripped-down adaptation of an original where it was the legendary Solar Exalted Brigid who first discovered the art of sorcery. For some reason the Terrestrials were not eager to give such credit to the tyrants they'd overthrown.

Still, ancient politics aside, it didn't look too bad and Nolly sang it well, before running us through the chorus en masse. I would like to stress that I don't dislike singing. I just recognise that I'm no good at it.

The chorus was alright, with any issues I had masked by the other children, although Nolly was looking at each of us carefully in turn.

We would sing in order of age, she decided. Hunt first as the oldest, followed by Doreg, Nalan, myself and Opiha. Each of us would have a turn at the verses while we would continue to sing the chorus together.

To be completely fair, while I have issues with Hunt's behaviour, she was a decent singer. Doreg might have been better, although I couldn't really have judged.

And then it was Nalan's turn and by the Bath of Venus, that boy can sing. His voice hadn't broken yet of course, we were easily ten years from that, but he was clear and… I don't know the words. But he'd clearly been listening to Nolly carefully and as best I could tell he hit every note.

The harper favoured him with a smile and a "Very well done," rather than the milder compliments the earlier two had received.

Then it was my turn and Nolly's smile visibly slipped as I shrilled my way through the verses. "That was a good try," she told me diplomatically and turned towards Opiha. The little girl gamely stood up and… lalala'd her way through the song, picking up around one word in five.

The sad thing was, she was at least hitting the notes better than I did. Doreg was positively sniggering.

"I see," Nolly observed when we were done. "Well, I think that Alina and Opiha may be a little young yet for the singing so we'll start the two of you dancing while the older children keep singing." She beckoned Usha over and the two women demonstrated some simple and repetitive dance steps. "The two of you need to keep this in track with the song," she explained. "You're partners so try to keep in unison."

Well at least I wouldn't be embarrassing myself too much if I didn't have to open my mouth. Opiha seemed a bit put out that we weren't singing but since she wasn't alone in that, she put her chin up and followed me off to the side where we could dance in Nolly's view without distracting the three singers.

If anyone thinks that two little girls could master even simple dance steps some time… well, you're fools. But martial arts training does involve a fair bit of watching someone move and then trying to copy them, so I wasn't at a dead loss.

Opiha wasn't as practised, but she was enthusiastic and really not any clumsier than I was. She was able to walk on her own now so we had that going for us. I'm sure that we didn't look at all graceful, but after the fourth or fifth time we were more or less on the right marks.

By the seventh or eighth, it was boring and that was where I started throwing in some variations. The dance steps weren't so very different from one of the more esoteric martial arts I'd picked up over the years, perhaps an overlap since it was one that I'd picked up when moving in courtly circles. If you can't think of a reason that a martial artist might want to mask their moves as dance steps, then you've clearly never attended a formal ball where poisons are being dished out both literally and figuratively as liberally as the wine and canapes.

It was a little challenging to do some of the steps with shorter limbs and with the bulk of a nappy around my hips (such as they were) – I was looking forward so much to moving on to less restrictive undergarments. Hunt wasn't in a nappy so hopefully it wouldn't be far off that Ishah would accept that I had adequate control over my bladder and bowels.

"Very good, Opiha," Nolly congratulated the other girl during a break in the singing. "You're getting the hang of it. I thought you were getting it down, Alina but you've been tottering for the last few times. Are you tired?"

"No," I said honestly. Stumbling indeed. That was the Owl Clutching sequence, adding in more complex footwork.

"Hmm." She didn't seem convinced. "Just try copying Opiha."

"Yes teacher."

"Usha." She beckoned the servant over. "Please keep a closer eye and correct Alina if she needs it."

"Opiha's such a good dancer," Hunt declared to Doreg in a carrying voice. "And Nalan can sing very well." There was an illustrative pause. "I'm sure Alina has other talents."

Poisonous little crow, it was no surprise that her father was apparently from House Cynis.

---

As classes went on, we occasionally found ourselves studying with the older children. Not often, since there were a few years between Icole, the youngest of his particular batch of children, and Hunt. But sometimes age didn't particularly seem to matter; or the older children were being set to prove what they'd learned by teaching it to us - under supervision, naturally.

There were times when this provided a helpful edge of maturity, but since we were dealing with children on the verge of being sent off to boarding school with children several years from that, I could count those occasions on the fingers of one hand.

Which was fortunate because formal Creation mathematics is in base five so that was how we were taught to count. Thumb, forefinger, long finger, ring finger, Littlefinger… one, two, three, four, five. Then raise a finger on your other hand and repeat. Gets you up to twenty-five without needing more than two hands.

When I saw Doreg following Icole around under the willow tree, asking him about the history of House Tepet, I knew that this was not going to be one of those helpful times.

The fact that Nalan was sulking from the porch told a story, given he'd had a coughing fit last night. He was bundled up in a heavy coat and hat, much as I'd been the first time I was allowed out.

I toddled up behind him and patted him on the shoulder. "Do you feel better?"

"Go away," he grumbled.

I sat down on the edge of the porch and swung my legs. "Dey won't let me out." 'Th' was still my nemesis.

"Go back inside then." He tucked his hands up under his elbows, although it wasn't really all that cold. "I don't want to talk to a dirty bastard."

I blinked. Huh, Ishah would be annoyed that they hadn't drummed that word out of our lexicon after Hunt brought it up. "I had a bath last night. You were there."

Bath night was a pretty public affair, since there was one pair of bathtubs we all got washed in succession like a production line of being soaked and soaped up in the first tub, then rinsed with water from the second tub of hot water, and then getting to soak in that second tub until the next child was rinsed off.

Nalan gave me a sidelong look. "That's not what it means."

"What does it mean?"

"..."

I pulled on his sleeve. "What's a dirty ba-steward?"

"It's not ba-steward, it's bastard," the boy corrected me. "And you're a bastard."

I wasn't going to tell him he was wrong, because he wasn't. It was still a circular argument though. "So, what's wrong with being a bastard?"

He froze again. "I…"

I kicked my legs back and forth until he seemed about to say something and then changed the subject. "Are you mad at Doweg?"

"Yes!" Nalan exclaimed and then shook his head. "No."

I reached over and patted him. "Ith okay to be mad at him sometimes." Ah! I'd done 'th'... but not when I was trying to! Curse this tongue. No, wait, I'd been cursing it for a year now. Bless this tongue! Bless it with not making me lisp!

"But he's my twin."

"So?"

"Ishah says I shouldn't be mad at my twin."

"Ishah says Doweg thouldn't leave you behind to play with Icole," I pointed out and pointed at the two of them. "Ith okay to be mad."

Nalan moved over and sat down next to me. "But what can I do? I can't beat Doreg at anything. I'm always ill and I keep falling behind. Even you're better at reading now and you're tiny."

"Sanks." I thought about it and then remembered that in reading class, Icole had been charged with reading us the introduction to the Thousand Correct Actions of the Upright Soldier. The book was a manual for soldiers in the legion and practically gospel within the martial House Tepet. We weren't expected to know the details of the contents yet, but the introduction and its basic philosophy were something we were introduced to early.

"In the next class, after Doweg shows off by answering something, tell him he's a 'pewfected ideal of a fighting individual'," I quoted, sounding the words out carefully. Argh, so close!

Nalan lay back. "Why should I say something nice to him if I'm mad?"

"Because it's not something nice." Doreg had been pestering Icole so much he'd not really had much chance to explain the text to myself or Nalan. It would be perfectly understandable Nalan had misunderstood it, and if Doreg was so puffed up that he accepted it as a compliment…

I covered my mouth so I didn't giggle evilly. I really didn't want to be an evil child, that would be creepy.

"It sounds nice," muttered Nalan.

"The upright soldier is not an individual," I explained. "That's how the Thousand Correct Action admonishes the pwideful and Doweg is pwetty pwideful."

Nalan laughed. "You're really smart, Alina."

"Sank you."

"How come you're so clever when you're little?"

"I haveta be clever because I'm little." I sighed despondently. Even Opiha was taller than I was now. Medra had started working some of the tunics the white-haired girl had been using into my own selection, since they fit on me but didn't on her. It just wasn't fair.

It was lonely not having anyone to talk to on my level. Then again, if I ran into any of my old Circle, they'd probably tease me incredibly over being a little girl. Not in a mean way, but because jabbing at each other over inconsequential things was how we showed affection.

Instead I was surrounded by children I could run metaphorical circles around and adults who wouldn't take me seriously unless I told them enough about me for them to be sure I was a threat to their status. Some of my circle might have been able to leverage being a little girl somehow - some of the more social butterfly types could meld that perfectly with being utter killing machines, but I was too blunt and direct to be cute.

Um. That perfected fighting individual cut a bit close, now that I thought about it. I was a Terrestrial Exalt, by design I should be working as a pack with my kinfolk. Instead I'd gravitated to being the support and logistics for a circle of Celestials, cheating my way up to parity with them in areas like combat so that I wasn't a liability.

Perhaps I would get more from studying the Thousand Correct Actions of the Upright Soldier than I thought.

"I have another idea," I declared, climbing up to my feet. "Leth go inside and ask Ishah for the Thousand Cowwect Actions tho we can wead it together."

Nalan groaned and rolled over. "Okay," he agreed and coughed.

We exchanged looks and sighed. Better get inside now, before that got worse and the nannies put him to bed for the day. I wasn't sure if they were overreacting or not. My medical knowledge was more about battlefield surgery and esoterica than it was about childhood illnesses.

---

The children's courtyard did include a good-sized classroom for teachers to use when the weather or the specifics of a lesson didn't fit well with teaching us outside in the courtyard. Larger than we really needed, but I suspected it was planned for more children - perhaps Demarol had once been a larger household or perhaps it was just scaled to allow for growth in our numbers in the future. Natural light was somewhat constrained inside, but the importance of education was such that when the room was used, a rare treasure was employed.

Before class began, Ishah unlocked a heavy chest that was chained to the wall and allowed Nolly to remove the contents, placing a crystal sphere in a sconce mounted higher up the wall. A dim flicker of light at the heart of the sphere began to swell in magnitude and after a moment light streamed from it, providing ample illumination for our lessons.

The crystal was centuries old, an imperishable luxury that even wealthy families didn't have many of. Which was kind of sad because two thousand years ago, they'd been made in such quantities that even the humblest household had thought nothing of using them to light every room.

Unfortunately, the only factory-cathedral making them had been in the far West, on an island that fell into the Wyld during Balor's Crusade. And imperishable was not the same as unbreakable. Year after year, century after century, they'd become less and less available.

I could make another, given the right tools, but it was ridiculously inefficient to tie up one craftsman and his tools and assistants for months to make one glorified lightbulb. And retooling one of the tiny handful of factory-cathedrals to construct them was unthinkable when their services were vital to maintaining the Realm's military infrastructure.

And thus, lights had gone out steadily across Creation.

Today's lesson was arithmetic, which was couched in Nolly reading problems out from an instructional manual and leaving it up to us to work out what approach to use to solve it. For fairness, she gave us individual problems geared to our respective levels and we had time to work them out while she went around the room, taking answers and giving new problems.

Of course, this meant that I was left solving the problems almost immediately and sitting waiting while Nolly explained to Opiha that if four legionnaires can each defeat four tribesmen then the lowest number of tribesmen that outnumber the four legionnaires is seventeen…

(Well, she literally said thirty-two, but that's the same thing. I swear, base five maths drove me up the wall until I got used to it).

To be absolutely fair to Doreg, he was probably about as bored as I was since he was solving his problems just as quickly. Hunt, who was getting roughly the same level of questions I was, seemed to need every minute and I really didn't want to be too obviously upstaging her. Being 'a bright child' can cover for a lot, but a four-year-old being better at long division than a five-year-old was pushing it.

While it was raining outside, it wasn't a cold rain and despite the bright light I was feeling sleepy. Somewhere between Nolly having to take Nalan's slate to find out exactly he'd managed to calculate that a third of seven hundred came to a whole number and setting him a new problem, my eyes locked on motes of dust visible in the streams of light from the orb on the wall.

They were positively dancing in front of me and I felt myself slipping into the same meditative trance that usually presaged a nap. Although I was getting better about that!

Nolly asked for my answer, I gave it and absently noted down the next problem, eyes still following the motes.

There was something that seemed to hover just outside my reach as I thought about the problem and then made a note of the answer. Fortunately, I didn't have to show working. As far as our tutors were concerned, the results were what mattered. If we'd succeeded by cheating well enough that we didn't get caught then we'd still succeeded.

The answer was there, I thought. Close enough that I could just reach out a-n-d-

The shock went through me like a jolt of lightning. My legs kicked involuntarily and knocked the stool out from under me.

I hit the floor on my side and lay there blinking. What had happened?

The motes were still there, dancing as I breathed.

Even in the shadows under the desk?

Dust motes shouldn't be visible there…. Motes. Motes-motes-motes… yes!

"Little Alina?" Nolly had moved over to look down at me. "What are you doing down there?"

I had enlightened myself! Yes!

"I don't know?" I offered uncertainly. "I fell off my stool."

The tutor folded her arms. "Really. I wouldn't have guessed. And why did you fall off your stool?"

"I…" What to say? "I dreamed I exalted." Actually, that would be more believable than enlightening myself, even if I'd be unprecedentedly young for Terrestrial Exaltation.

"Dreamed, eh?" Nolly leaned over and helped me up. "I take it that you were asleep."

Red-faced I nodded. There was a snicker from Doreg, echoed almost immediately by Nalan and Hunt. Opiha just looked sympathetic

"I see." Nolly gave me a thoughtful look. "How sad that I am boring you with these lessons. I shall have to give you something else to think about. Bend over."

I winced and obeyed. I couldn't see but I knew what was happening - it had happened before just not to me. Nolly removed her shoe and then swatted me sharply across the backside with the flat of it. I yelped at the smarting impact.

"Now sit down again," the tutor told me and picked up my slate, reading off the answer. "I suppose you at least did your work. Copy out times tables up to twenty times twenty."

"Yes teacher," I acknowledged meekly and wiped my slate clean to start that.

My head was pounding and my tender buttocks were going to be on a hard stool for the rest of the lesson, but I had reached out and touched a mote for the first time since my rebirth. It was a small first step, but it was a step in the right direction.

 

[The Froggy Ninja]

Shame the MC doesn't seem to have been much of a skill monkey. Probably insane Lore and Occult for a mortal anyway but I don't think they had any degrees and martial arts will probably just count as having a tutor because new body. Interesting nonetheless. Is this a Peggy Sue and an insert? Otherwise how would the MC know of base ten?

 

[Blaflaix]

Sidereal Exalted, who were busy pretending not to exist,

Click to shrink...

Hey, not existing is hard work.
All the food not to eat, all the air not to breathe... just think of all the places you have to not be!
Existing people can just pick somewhere and be there, but not-existing people have to not be everywhere or they might be somewhere!

If you can't think of a reason that a martial artist might want to mask their moves as dance steps, then you've clearly never attended a formal ball

Click to shrink...

Yeah, I've had dance partners like that too.

 

[EmperorArthur]

Sooo, my bet is that Alina ends up with a Solar Exaltation. I mean, she's ticking all the boxes.

It would be the perfect hilarious move for fate to pull.

 

[Candesce]

I mean, she's ticking all the boxes.

Click to shrink...

On the one hand, that's entirely true.

On the other hand, there's all of like 5 Solar Exaltations free to try to seek her out, and I don't think they all look for the exact same stuff.

It's entirely possible she dodges the problem just 'cause every single Exaltation which'd pick her is currently occupied.

 

[The Froggy Ninja]

On the one hand, that's entirely true.

On the other hand, there's all of like 5 Solar Exaltations free to try to seek her out, and I don't think they all look for the exact same stuff.

It's entirely possible she dodges the problem just 'cause every single Exaltation which'd pick her is currently occupied.

Click to shrink...

Shouldn't half the Solar Exaltations be floating around currently? Presumably several of them will have hosts already but there's plenty of time for one of them to get Wyld Hunted.

 

[Candesce]

Shouldn't half the Solar Exaltations be floating around currently?

Click to shrink...

Nope. The vast majority of "game-era" Solar Exaltations are currently in the Jade Prison. We actually got the date at the moment - the Jade Prison will be cracked open in ~115 years, if that part of the timeline stays the same.

And yeah, maybe one of the Solars currently out there gets axed - but do you really think Alina is the only available prospect?

Exaltations don't come because you deserve them. You need to get very, very lucky, too.

 

[The Froggy Ninja]

Nope. The vast majority of "game-era" Solar Exaltations are currently in the Jade Prison. We actually got the date at the moment - the Jade Prison will be cracked open in ~115 years, if that part of the timeline stays the same.

And yeah, maybe one of the Solars currently out there gets axed - but do you really think Alina is the only available prospect?

Exaltations don't come because you deserve them. You need to get very, very lucky, too.

Click to shrink...

What? Didn't they say it was year 749? Exalted canon takes place 763 and the Jade Prison is broken well before that.

 

[Candesce]

What? Didn't they say it was year 749?

Click to shrink...

Whoops, you are correct, I wasn't paying enough attention to the dates.

The Jade Prison gets cracked open in 758, which is near enough in the future to matter; that's soon enough that Alina probably will not have Exalted as a Dragonblood by the time it happens.

 

[TheUnicorn]

that's soon enough that Alina probably will not have Exalted as a Dragonblood by the time it happens.

Click to shrink...

That does raise the question of how Alina's awakening her essence will affect the chances of her Exalting as a Dragonblood?

 

[Candesce]

how Alina's awakening her essence will affect the chances of her Exalting as a Dragonblood?

Click to shrink...

Shouldn't make it any worse. At least, ignoring any increased odds of Exalting as anything else first. Don't know if it helps. Pretty sure it's mostly just Breeding and their parents' Essence Ratings that usually matter, with maybe a bonus for getting a Neomah involved? Nothing after birth. Bookwyrm being Bookwyrm and Alina having notable Aspect markers means it's pretty likely, but, well.

A lot of this is going to depend on Drakensis' personal interpretation of Exalted. There's more than a few "canon" versions, after all.

 

[The Froggy Ninja]

Whoops, you are correct, I wasn't paying enough attention to the dates.

The Jade Prison gets cracked open in 758, which is near enough in the future to matter; that's soon enough that Alina probably will not have Exalted as a Dragonblood by the time it happens.

Click to shrink...

It should be well within the 8-15yo range that Deebs of decent Breeding tend to Exalt at yeah. Of course, House Tepet is probably one of the worst places to receive a non-Sid Celestial Exaltation and her having notable mutations makes somewhat likely she'll exalt even before then.

 

[EmperorArthur]

It should be well within the 8-15yo range that Deebs of decent Breeding tend to Exalt at yeah. Of course, House Tepet is probably one of the worst places to receive a non-Sid Celestial Exaltation and her having notable mutations makes somewhat likely she'll exalt even before then.

Click to shrink...

Of course it is. The big question is how OP should she be. Because, with any terrestrial Exaltation, her prior experience will rapidly let her do things which would normally take decades of study. In a flip from normal, a Solar Exaltation would actually leave her less powerful. At least in the short term.

Question for those who Know Exaltated better than I do. How hard is it to hide an Exaltation?

 

[Candesce]

How hard is it to hide an Exaltation?

Click to shrink...

Assuming the initial event doesn't cause your Anima to go totemic and broadcast your location to everyone within miles in the most densely populated chunk of land in Creation?

You can get away with pretending not to be an Exalt by not using external motes for anything and not taking any injuries that will heal excessively quickly &c. See the lines about "oh yeah, mortals get sunburn." So, possible even without disguise charms, but not exactly reliable, especially when it comes with the guarantee you won't Exalt as a Dragonblooded, with all the problems stemming from that.

Pretending to be an Exalt of a type you're actually not gets substantially harder.

 

[The Froggy Ninja]

You know, Earth Caste are Craft Favored and a lot of that should carry over too. Of course, non-artifact Craft builds aren't super viable and even those don't tend to be the kind of combat wombat jaboi apparently was. Still, he can make one dot stuff which means he should be able to make up to three dot stuff and he may have been able to pick up some decent schematics from whoever the nerd of the squad was. Although, I'm not entirely sure how they pulled this off at what must have been E6.

Of course it is. The big question is how OP should she be. Because, with any terrestrial Exaltation, her prior experience will rapidly let her do things which would normally take decades of study. In a flip from normal, a Solar Exaltation would actually leave her less powerful. At least in the short term.

Click to shrink...

Eh, if skill carries over at all that shouldn't matter and learning charms is more about integrating the Essence patterns into your nature than actually learning techniques as such so there wouldn't be that big a boost.

Question for those who Know Exaltated better than I do. How hard is it to hide an Exaltation?

Click to shrink...

Pretty easy unless you're in a fight or the other guy has wizard eyes. Unless you're an Infernal in which case just blitz E3, grab Eldritch Secrets Mastery and laugh in the face of true sight to blend in with whatever god kings happen to be locally dominant.

 

[drakensis]

With access to my essence, new horizons opened up to me in terms of what I could do. And at around the same time, I received literal new horizons with the departure of Icole and the older children to their boarding schools.

Not that I was pleased to see him go. For one thing Opiha was sad to see her brother depart for months, not to return until summer. For another, he had more time for we younger children than our older cousins did.

But with his departure there were calls from the main manse for children to carry out simple tasks - fetching and carrying for guests, for example. Tepet Demarol entertained on a grand scale and having children of the household attend on the most favoured guests was something of an honour he could bestow.

Besides that, it acquainted us with the habits of the dynasts and patricians who made up high society both in general and in specific identifications. None of the chores were onerous - we were still small children after all, but it was well within our scope to carry a scroll from one guest room to another, or to guide someone unfamiliar with the estate. Honestly, minding our manners was more of a challenge.

Naturally this meant that we were no longer confined to the children's courtyard. You can't guide anyone unless you're familiar with the area, so we received both tours and license to do some exploring.

I felt so very liberated, even if it was only within an area a mile or so across. I had some independence at last! I could spend some free time alone or almost.

It would have been suspicious to overdo it, of course, but I'd found a spot at the bottom of the garden where no one really went - nothing special, just a plot of land near the compost heaps. The garden staff had a regular schedule for dealing with that, so as long as I only went there in the afternoons, I could have some private time and actually get some practise in.

And boy did I need it!

Not only had it been years since I'd actually done any martial arts beyond the very very basic training we were now getting at last, but I had an entirely new body with very different proportions from what I was used to.

I was beyond rusty, so I was glad that no one could see me trying (and failing) at some of the most basic elements of Crimson Pentacle Blade style. It was one of the most forgiving supernatural martial arts in some respects, with very little essence required - which was good given my paltry reserves and control. Unfortunately, it was also quite demanding of the body and…

Well, I was maybe half the height and a third the weight that I had once had.

In full form, I'd cleaved through an entire circle of necromancers with this art. But right now, I might as well have been attempting the mighty defensive charms that allowed champions among Dragon-Blooded to resist the compulsions of the Anathema, charms that required levels of essence that most Exalted simply never attained.

It would be embarrassing if…

"Look, Doreg, Alina's trying to dance!"

...it would have to be Hunt, wouldn't it?

Turning I was just in time to see Doreg's blond head pop up over the hedge next to Hunt's face.

"It was ever so funny," the older girl declared.

I huffed. So much for today's practise. The brats would pester and distract me for the fun of it and this was hard enough with full focus. If I was past the initial hurdles then that might make it worthwhile, but not at this stage. "What do you want?"

"Dance for us!" Doreg cheered.

"I'm not a puppet, Doreg."

He made a face and scrambled down, running around to the entrance to this part of the gardens. "Show me, show me!"

"Why should I?"

He looked around and then reached into the compost, pulling out a handful of wet soil. "If you don't then I'll wipe this down your dress and tell Ishah you were playing in the mud!"

...he would as well. Doreg was bright himself, and easily bored. He was far from above getting someone into trouble if he thought they were keeping something fun away from him.

"Just try it!" I ran at him on my still-stubby legs and feinted to one side. He almost fell for it, but then realised I was going to get around him on the other side and brought the handful of mud around -

Just in time for me to swing my arm up in a block. The compost went flying past me without making contact but then I was past him. Hunt dropped down to block one way so I went the other way, out into the garden. It was better than trying to avoid two children with more reach than I had in confined lanes and passages.

"She's getting away from you!" Hunt taunted.

"Come back and dance!" called the boy as he gave chase.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen. The famous Bookwyrm, put to flight by a pair of six-year-old children. But the downside of the comparative freedom we had now was balanced by painful consequences if we were caught misbehaving.

There were no guests this week, Demarol was visiting one of the neighbouring estates for a banquet, but that meant that there was much less chance of someone turning up that the others wouldn't dare hound me in front of.

The two of them were faster than I was, too. I had to rely on cornering to keep ahead of them and if they worked together effectively…

"You go left, I'll go right!" Doreg called.

Teamwork! Admirable, if it wasn't being directed at me!

Okay, I thought as I looked for a way out. I needed to use my brains to get past them. Outsmart them. What did I have that they didn't? What were my advantages?

Well… they had me cut off from the exits to this part of the garden, but…

I ran along the hedge that broke the garden up and scrambled under it. My tunic picked up a little dirt but nothing like the amount that Doreg had threatened me with. And it was fairly dry. The two of them probably couldn't follow me – I'm smaller than them, after all.

Now I had the time to get away, even if it was just a brief opportunity until they'd realised that I'd escaped this way.

As it turned out, I barely got around the edge of the ornamental maze before they were on my trail.

"What are you doing?" Nalan sat on the branches of an apple tree, part of the impractically tiny orchard that separated the maze from the private garden backing onto the manse itself.

"I -"

"Nalan!" shouted his twin. "Catch her! Cut her off!"

I made a pleading look.

Hunt's voice cut across the orchard, "Don't be a wimp, Nalan!"

The grey-haired boy scowled. "I'm no wimp!" He dropped off the branch, scrambling down and blocking me from exiting the gardens.

"You're a dumbass!" I snapped and turned sharply to run into the private garden. I wasn't actually forbidden from going in there and perhaps one of the Exalted would be there and act as a restraint on them.

Unfortunately, no one appeared to be present at the moment, despite the basket-woven garden chair and table set out with a tray full of treats near the middle.

The private garden was neither particularly large nor especially ornate, just a hedged-in piece of well-tended lawn and some flowerbeds with two paved sitting areas dug down to perhaps knee depth with carefully placed stones around the edges where people could sit. It was a reasonably clever use of the geomancy requiring a depression in those places although personally I'd have gone with ponds, given the manses' hearthstone was clearly a Kill-Hands Gem, enhancing one's martial arts.

Water, you see, is associated with most martial arts. I'd have used this garden for my practise if it wouldn't have drastically enhanced the chances of my activities being noted as not dancing but an unapproved form of martial arts.

The Immaculate Monks got decidedly shirty about styles that they didn't teach and therefore theoretically control. They'd almost exterminated the Blessed Isle's sub-style of Crimson Pentacle Blade style until I took it up and started teaching it. I assume that her Scarlet Majesty had called them off, since continued persecution would have been disruptive to the rather delicate diplomacy between the Realm and the northern lands.

Unfortunately, the only other exit to the private garden than the one I'd come in through was into the manse and we very definitely did not have permission to enter that.

I considered trying the same trick I'd done before and going under, but unlike that hedge, this one was holly and there wasn't much more than two inches of clearance under it. I'm not that small. Over was also out - the hedge was higher than my head and would have been even if I had my previous height.

So that left…

I ran to the chair and tried to hide behind it. It wouldn't work – you could practically see through it – but it didn't have to work. It just had to fail convincingly.

"I see you!" Nalan shouted triumphantly as he entered the garden. Doreg was right behind him and the twins split up automatically to outflank me coming around the chair from both directions.

I didn't run though. I grabbed the bottom of the chair and heaved.

It was heavy but not unmanageable since the design meant that it was hollow. And all I needed to do was tip it over.

There was an almighty crash as the chair fell over right on the table and knocked that over, spilling the tray of sweets and cookies all over the grass. Hunt, about to enter the garden, visibly thought better of it and ran for her life.

Inside the manse there was a startled cry and the sound of feet. I had just a moment more to set the scene and so I dived onto the appalled Nalan, sending him stumbling into the mess as my shoulder hit him below the ribs and set him off coughing.

"What is going on here!" an outraged voice announced the presence of the most powerful current resident of the estate.

And now for my secret weapon: crocodile tears. If my stupid infant body insisted on crying at everything, I would use it to my advantage.

"Waaah!" I cried, sobbing dramatically. "It's not Nalan's fault! Doreg PUSHED him!"

Tepet Yrina stared at us, at the ruined food. At the upturned furniture. The locks of hair not secured by her tiara blew in a wind that touched none of us. "And what, may I ask," she said silkily, "Were the three of you doing here in the first place?"

"Alina's -" Doreg tried to defend himself but I cut him off.

"H-H-hunt said there were s-s-sweeties," I wailed and snivelled pathetically. "I'm sowwwy!"

"Hunt, hmmm?"

"But I didn't…" protested the older twin.

"Shut up Doreg." The Dragon-Blood brushed him aside and picked up Nalan with no visible effort, laying him out on the grass in a more comfortable position. "Are you having trouble breathing, grandson?"

Nalan was red-faced. "Uff-uff," he panted. "Nuh, no?"

I sniffed and sobbed, but otherwise stayed silent, letting my adoptive mother draw her own conclusions. She was not, it must be said, one likely to spend an excess of time on a matter of children squabbling.

Once, twice, her hand whip-cracked across Doreg's face – carefully calculated force to humiliate and pain him without doing any serious damage. "You are not allowed to roughhouse with your brother. If you cannot heed these instructions then you cannot be trusted with other matters," Yrina told him flatly. "You are confined to the children's courtyard for a month."

He opened his mouth to protest but then visibly reconsidered.

"And since the rest of you children value sweets and other treats so little as to trample them into the dirt," she added. "I see no need to provide them for any of you children for that same month."

Her gaze was scathing. "Stop snivelling, Alina. Show some dignity."

I sniffed and let the tears and other signs of distress fade convincingly into repentance. "'m sowwy."

"Then show your repentance by being better," the Exalt spat. She eyed the mess on the ground and shook her head. "I am disgusted with all three of you. Four," she amended. "Hunt as well. Whatever convinced you to believe some tall tale she told you?"

Servants were called to take us back, the twins glaring at each other and at me. I pretended not to notice.

"This is all your fault," Nalan whined when we were left alone under the willow tree after Doreg was marched off to be handed over to Ishah first.

I gave him a little grin. "Doreg confined for a month while you aren't? Say thank you." I could manage 'th's now, mostly.

The boy paused and blinked. "Huh." I gave him a look and he sighed. "Thank you, 'Lina."

"You're welcome." Hopefully Opiha would blame the others for no sweets, not me.

---

Some six or seven months after that glorious dumping of blame on Doreg, it had mostly been forgotten by everyone but the participants. Children will be children, after all.

A month of as much separation as I could engineer had split the twins remaining ties though, leaving Doreg and Hunt allied with each other against myself and Nalan. A bemused Opiha was only too pleased to exploit being the swing vote in any decisions made by we children, reaping bribes from both sides even if I'm not sure which side of the tale she believed to be true.

While having an ally made it considerably easier to get along in the hothouse of the children's courtyard, that didn't change the fact that I was hitting a wall when it came to my advancement. I had to face the facts: until I was more physically mature, I wasn't going to make more than incremental improvement in Crimson Pentacle Blade or in the more approved martial arts I was re-learning. It was useful to continue to build my foundation, but it wasn't going to be an equalizer if I needed to use something now.

And I hated how helpless I was at the moment.

Being a sheltered child is all very well and I didn't recall any events in Juche Prefecture that would endanger some of the most pampered children in the world… but I hadn't been in any position to be aware of such. And even if none happened, the simple fact was that if I didn't exalt my future was going to be even more constrained. I needed to be ready for that, because my best – if vague – estimation was that I had maybe two chances in five of Exalting.

I'm not a gambler. I'll stake money – or lives – on my skills, or others' bad habits. And I've done so with great success over the years. But factors entirely outside my control or ability to predict… ugh.

That left more obscure martial arts as my best form of security. The sort of arts that no one would be able to predict or see coming. And they needed a deeper grasp of my essence than I had.

The extent of one's essence scales in various ways. I really had no more than any other mortal or some of the weakest of spirits. Objectively, the fact I could touch it at all put me at a huge advantage once I could apply it usefully, but that depended on long practise. And it wasn't enough for anything esoteric.

Terminology varies, but in general there are ten stages of spiritual development in mastering one's essence: the five mortal plateaus and the five immortal courts. I was on the first step, having just barely crossed the threshold of the lowest mortal plateau when I touched my essence for the first time. For what I was working on, I needed to move on to the second plateau.

An Exalt could move to the second or even third mortal plateau with very little effort. It was one of the things that made them so incredibly dangerous. For a mortal, that could be the journey of an entire lifetime. To go beyond that was, despite the name, not really attainable without ceasing to be mortal somehow. The highest mortal plateau was named that solely because it was the greatest height that more spiritually awakened beings could reach within a mortal's life.

I didn't really fancy waiting for decades. So, I needed a short-cut, something to give me an advantage. And the delightful thing about growing up in a dynastic household was that there were goods and tools around that might just provide that.

There were risks, of course.

Firstly, no one was going to let me take them. So, I'd have to steal them. But the heaven's look fondly on those who are bold and daring. (Quite literally. Those who tend to the loom of fate have a long, thankless task and are happy to reward those who provide for something more exciting for them to oversee than another day of farming or making the same simple goods over and over again).

Secondly, if I made a mistake then I could wind up dead or crippled.

I really wouldn't let any child of mine – or just in my care – attempt this. So, I'm a hypocrite to do it myself; but to be fair, at least I know what I'm doing.

I might have a child's impulse control as well. It's hard to say how much that's affecting me.

The night I was waiting for was the third of an extended gala hosted by the Tepet Demarol household. For more than a week, the estate was inundated with guests from other families – every Great House was represented, more than half of them by Exalted and the others by rising mortal relatives who were trusted to represent their betters in important affairs.

The result of this was of course that the servants were being worked hard keeping up with the demands of lavish hospitality and entertainment. Almost everyone was working late and while the sun had long since set, hoarded light crystals and expensive fireworks turned the evening into something like day.

We children had played our parts earlier but no one actually expected us to be around as the evening turned towards some more mature entertainments. We'd been seen and recognised as potential future members of House Tepet, names and faces to be remembered when marriages were discussed in ten years or so and that was the main thing.

And thus, as even Medra was nodding off in her chair in the nursery, I was waiting.

I'd taken a nap earlier, missing the main dinner. That was excusable since Doreg and Hunt were serving as cupbearers to Demarol and Yrina respectively. The household was aware of the divisions among the children so keeping Nalan and I away from that was something they were happy to arrange. No one wanted a spat among children to mar the occasion. (Well, it might have amused some of the guests, but it would have humiliated my adoptive parents in public and that would have had serious repercussions).

Poor Medra was getting visibly older. Her hair had gone from steel grey to almost the same shade as Opiha's, while more lines were drawn in the skin of her face.

I climbed out of my bed on soft feet and watched the elderly woman to see if she reacted. There was no sign of anything, but I couldn't assume anything. Picking up a spare blanket that was ready in case any of we children started feeling the cold, I carried it over to her and draped it over her. I couldn't reach her shoulders, but it covered her lap and she didn't wake.

Good. I'd swapped her evening cup of wine for something a little stronger that Usha had set aside for herself. The younger nurse wouldn't be able to make anything of it if she did catch on – she wasn't supposed to have the flask of reinforced wine in the first place.

The tunic I wore to bed was a very dark blue, chosen for this reason. I tiptoed to the doorway and quietly slipped on some similarly shaded pants and slippers. Sliding the door to one side I peeked out and waited for a firework to cast light across the children's courtyard.

The shadow cast by the willow as the sky lit up briefly seemed to dance, giving me qualms but it seemed that no one was there.

Good enough. I kept to the porch as I walked quickly down to the corner. I had an excuse this far – a late night trip to the water closet. But once I went past it, anyone catching me would know I had no real excuse for being out. If there was some emergency, I should have woken Medra after all.

I went past that threshold and shivered. I could still turn back.

But no. I'd made up my mind. I reached the gate to the courtyard; it was pulled closed but not latched or barred.

Crossing the threshold, I didn't look back.

The bright lights of the crystals cast deep shadows, not all of them in line to be lit during the moments that fireworks boomed and flared above. I used a scarf to hide my light hair and went around the kitchens – which would be heaving – and the gardens where the bulk of the festivities were taking place.

There were three routes into the manse. The garden entrance was going to be in full view of part of the party, some of the serious drinkers were there. And the servants' entrance was far too likely to be busy.

That left the riskiest under normal circumstances as the route that I would take.

I went up the stairs that I remembered being carried up years ago to have my first sight of Tepet Yrina and the twin's mother. I'd never gone through the front entrance of the ziggurat but I had a rough idea of the layout.

The broad steps were suitable for ceremony and there had been entertainers playing music on them under Nolly's direction earlier. But with the fireworks, that had ceased and now they were abandoned and eerily so.

I hastened up the steps and reached the ornamental barrier. It wouldn't have stopped a particularly lazy cat, but the chains nonetheless marked a new threshold. To enter the manse without the express consent of one of the Exalted of the household was utterly forbidden. Servants were vetted carefully before being admitted and unexalted family members were usually allowed in only for specific reasons.

The door was closed, but that was alright, I wasn't going to risk it.

Hidden from easy view from outside, there was a low moat of water – just a few inches deep and surrounding the ziggurat in a rigidly precise square. It served as a drain for water running down it during the rain, and also to channel some of the water-aspected essence flows into the proper paths to create a martial hearthstone. I'd expected as much.

And while I'd never seen it before, I found a drain right where my own knowledge of geomancy said it should be. The flat steps of the ziggurat didn't drain cleanly, they were slightly angled to slope back towards the next level upwards, so the water had to escape somehow, and while something the diameter of a man's arm would have sufficed for that, the geomancy demanded more.

I wriggled up into the drain and found it was just wide enough for my shoulders… but barely. Another season or two and this would be impossible.

As it was, I couldn't so much crawl up the drain as slither, bracing my back and knees alternately as I scaled it. Fortunately, it hadn't rained for the past two weeks so it wasn't slippery, but I would have to do something with my clothes after this. The smell would be obvious.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, I reached a grate at the top and gave it a little jiggle. It moved easily and pushing it up gave me a brief start as it came free. I almost lost my grip but I managed to brace myself. I was exposed to the light of the fireworks as I climbed painfully out and stretched, but fortunately no other building in the estate was high enough to see this platform easily.

I replaced the drain and crawled along the platform, minimising the chance of being spotted from the ground. Doors and platforms pierced the manse in several places, providing access to the interior. Most of the rooms were only accessible from the outside if you were above the ground level. Only the uppermost chamber was accessible by the stair that bored its way up from the lowest point of the structure. Otherwise one reached the manse's individual rooms by climbing the stairs engraved in the side and walking around on these platforms.

The room I wanted was on this level, but it was the furthest from the drain outlet, because of course it was.

Actually, it was furthest because of that – if the drain was clogged, not only was it bad for the essence flows but it could cause minor flooding and the most important person residing here wanted their room safe from that.

Finally, I reached the door. It was mostly glass in a wooden frame. Not exactly security conscious, but I guessed that the demands of getting light into it took precedence in the eyes of the resident. It was locked of course.

There are many arcane and clever ways to open a locked door. Spells, charms, clever ploys with pieces of metal. I had none of these.

What I did have was a solid appreciation for how you build a door like this one. The framework holding the glass in place was modular so you could remove the glass without having to disassemble the entire door to replace a cracked pane. Using a butterknife, I pried two of the supports away and removed one of the panes. That didn't leave a lot of space but it wasn't much narrower than the drain.

I slid the glass through first, then replaced the segments. Unless someone was looking for it, the chances were that no one would notice that the glass was missing in this poor light.

Getting my shoulders through the small space took some wriggling but I managed it in the end. Once inside, I hid the glass behind a cabinet and looked around. From here I didn't know exactly where I was going.

The furniture was sturdy and practical, not what one might expect for someone of wealth and power but Tepet Demarol was Exalted. When your anima banner can shred cotton in a moment of inattention, you don't want to surround yourself with delicacies. No, you want furnishings that can take some punishment without showing it.

Thus, the bulk of the furnishings were heavy woods or stone, with stuffed leather where it needed to be softened. The mattress and the blankets on the large four-poster bed might be the most fragile thing here.

I was looking for his medicine cabinet.

Not specifically for medicine, you understand. As far as I knew, my adoptive father had no particular interest in that field of study. He probably kept a few simple remedies around for practical reasons, but gossip among the servants was that it was also where he kept other things that had similarities in terms of how they should be stored.

Such as drugs and medications that were very heavily controlled to keep them out of the wrong hands. Dynasts didn't have to worry about such trifling considerations, for them anything that wasn't actively heretical was merely expensive, and Demarol entertained on this scale regularly. I am quite sure he had a stash to supply his guests with even their most eccentric demands even if he didn't indulge himself.

And there were a couple of likely substances that I could make excellent use of, if he had them. And if I used them correctly.

Of course, any medication can become a poison if misused. But you can drown in water, so moderation isn't exactly something that only applies in esoterica.

I checked the cabinets carefully, almost dismissing those that weren't locked at first. But he might just be casual about securing that sort of thing. I honestly didn't know so I had to try every room.

His wardrobe was extensive, but that wasn't a surprise. However, nothing in them seemed to be what I was looking for. It might be in one of the two locked cupboards or perhaps those that were just too high for me unless I moved a chair to get at them. That would be a problem, but not necessarily one I couldn't solve…

Then I heard a laugh from outside. Was someone coming here?

I dived under the bed and almost brained myself on a shallow chest that was stored under there. I barely spotted it before I hit it and caught myself on the edge of the frame instead. Rolling to one side I got myself into the shadows cast by the frame and the long drapes just before the door opened.

Two voices, one of them familiar.

"I'm sure that you will enjoy this," I heard my father say. "It's a fresh shipment I just received from Arjuf and before that from Paragon. My supplier swears by it."

"I look forward to it."

I didn't recognise the second voice, but I did recognise the drapes being pulled aside. If he looked down here, I was sure to be spotted…

With a brisk movement, the chest was pulled out from under the bed, the rattling of a chain that secured it to the floor hiding the sound of my heart beating louder at the risk of discovery.

Above me I heard people settling onto the bed. There was a click as if something was being unlocked and an appreciative sigh. It couldn't be this, could it?

I wriggled around and peeked out through the drapes. The chest was open and while I couldn't see inside it or what was being removed, it didn't take a genius to add up the sounds I was hearing.

A moment later there was the snap of a fire-starter and I could smell something exotic in the air. Something that spoke to me of the jungles of the south-east, of the ancient centres of civilisation there that predated the histories of the last age, much less that of the more savage and diminished age we lived within.

I swallowed, feeling a wave of homesickness for the city on the northern edge of that great verdant mass, the ancient towers and workshops I had hacked out from jungles and restored somewhat in those days that it seemed that we might be able to turn back the tide of darkness.

That city might live on, somewhere in the Creation that was, the Creation that I had lost. But now all it consisted of was a cursed ruin, bare of any inhabitants for seven and a half centuries, tended by crumbling automatons long overdue for maintenance and repair.

More weight settled onto the mattress above me and I pressed myself against the floor. I was worried about nothing though, the springs above were more than enough to keep the mattress from contacting me.

And then I saw a foot connect with the chest and slide it casually back under the bed.

They hadn't even closed it! Much less locked it!

Bless the spiders of the pattern, who reward audacity! I crawled over to the chest, not caring that it was almost lightless down here.

Delicate probing showed me that the chest was stacked high, probably with several trays to hold layer after layer of small bottles and packages. Tracing what was inside each would be hard, but I wasn't looking for any one thing specifically – there were quite a number of substances that were merely stimulants to the Chosen of the Dragons but would have far more profound effects on a mortal.

The most likely thing to find would be Celestial Cocaine but there wasn't a chance in all Malfeas that I'd touch that even if it was the only likely prospect I found. It was addictive as all hell and I didn't have the body mass to handle weaning myself off a physical and spiritual dependency.

And assuming I could shrug off the psychological dependency would be reckless too, I suppose.

Doing this once might be worthwhile but trying it a second time would almost certainly arouse suspicion, and I doubted Demarol would put up with a bastard adoptee who had a drug habit. Even if I Exalted outright, I'd probably be quietly put aside. That sort of weakness was intolerable.

Bottles I set aside, carrying liquid any real distance would be too chancy without taking the entire bottle and that would be obvious as a theft. No, I wanted a powder or a solid where I could wrap a tiny dose in paper to make my escape.

I most certainly was not going to try to advance my enlightenment further right under the nose of my adoptive father.

The mattress began to rise and fall above me in a rhythmic fashion that would have hinted to someone far more sheltered than I what my father and his guest were doing. Well, I suppose it was a distraction. I needed something along those lines.

Picking two possible packages out of the chest, and making careful note of their proper places, I squirmed over to the side of the bed nearest the door and examined the markings on the packets in the scant light that came through. The markings meant nothing to me, alas. But that didn't really surprise me – probably Demarol or his supplier had a private code they used. Only an utter idiot would write the name of a technically illegal substance on a package, after all. It would be hard to claim that you had no idea what the actual contents were if a Magistrate decided to try to actually hold you to the law.

Afterall, the Scarlet Empress might actually be displeased enough to actually impose the legal consequences if you didn't have some excuse lined up. It had happened… three or four times in her reign, if I recalled correctly.

I didn't recognise the contents of the first package when I unsealed it. The second was October Mist, which would explain the smell in the air. Aromatic and aphrodisiac, completely useless to me.

Painstakingly I crawled back to the chest and replaced the packets, selecting two more and then repeated the examinations.

The first was what I'd expected: Celestial Cocaine. I was very very careful to hold my breath until that was wrapped again. I'd seen mortals kill themselves during my earliest days after Exaltation, in the drug dens of Nexus. I'd worked there after my Exaltation and more than a few men and women thought that they could manage the ride in exchange for opening them up to their essence and gain the opportunity to apprentice with sorcerers or other craftsmen who demanded enlightened apprentices.

The only one I hadn't seen driven to mad addiction and death probably would have ended up that way, although I'd have been pleased if I was wrong and he proved an exception. Instead, his master had called up a demon and deluded himself that he could bind it, rather than bargain with it.

The fool hadn't believed that the bindings hinged on the surrender oaths of the Yozi, tying their creations to serve the Exalted who had conquered them.

It had not been a good afternoon. I'd been much younger and less experienced then.

Well, not younger than I was now. That would have been ridiculous.

It was after that that I received the invitation from my first sifu in the ancient and illegal sect of the Golden Janissaries.

I shook my head, making a mental note to poke around Nexus in fourteen or fifteen years or so, should the opportunity arise. It would be interesting if a younger version of myself was there and if nothing else I could deal with the demon and maybe make some useful connections.

The last packet was a paste for burns. I have no idea why Demarol kept that with the rest but I put it back anyway.

One more try produced a packet of Ocean Bloom Pills. They'd have been ideal… an extremely mild hallucinogen that had enlightening aspects in mortals. A shame they were pills, and as such, that Demarol would almost certainly notice if I took one.

I still had options though, even just on the top tray, so I set them down and then checked the next one.

Oh, you idiot, I thought of the man above. I hope you're not taking this.

It was Raksha Dust, something traded occasionally from the bordermarches outside of Creation. It wasn't very habit forming, but because it was made – somehow, I had never got the specifics – through the interactions of wyld gossamers and the flows of elemental essence around the four outlying poles, it could have unpredictable consequences for Elementals or for Terrestrial Exalted.

Ironically, though, it was one of the safer drugs for mortals to use to enlighten themselves. Illegal and expensive for exactly that reason.

If an Immaculate Monk found out about this, Tepet Demarol would by rights suffer some stinging public denunciations. Probably not enough to cost him control of this manse, but he might very well find out that the invitations he received would be cut severely, particularly from more rigidly inclined Houses. Sesus, Memnon and Cynis would be alright, but the Cathak, Ledaal and the rest of the Tepet might cut him dead socially until it was forgotten for some juicier scandals.

Well, I couldn't spare him that risk without outing my presence here, but his recklessness would serve me well. I took a fold of paper from my tunic and tapped out a tiny quantity of the Raksha Dust onto it before sealing the packet. Folding up the paper several times to contain the dust I tucked it away and then wiggled back to the chest where I replaced the packet and made sure everything was as I remembered it.

With that done, all that remained was to move to a comparatively sheltered spot under the headboard and wait for the activity above me to die down. I was tired since even after a nap it was well after my bedtime, and the scent of the October Mist had me sweating for some reason.

It seemed like forever before the two in the bed above me settled down. Either it was my imagination or Demarol had the stamina of a randy lion. Probably a mix of the latter and of the drug, I guessed.

Finally, after I caught myself yawning, I heard their breath steady down and the mattress stopped bouncing.

I lay still and counted my heartbeat. Up to one hundred, down to one hundred.

When there was still no suspicious noise I crept out from under the bed and stuck to the shadows as best I could. There was considerable risk in taking a look at the pair in the bed, but if they were just snuggling rather than asleep then going right for the door was far too risky.

Finally, I found a place where the bedpost would cover me and slowly edged out just far enough to squint with one eye.

The pair lay still save for a gentle movement of their chests. Demarol lay on top of his bed-partner and I tried to blot from my memory far more view of his buttocks than I wanted. But it seemed that he, at least, had no view of anything but the pillows.

Working my way around the room I risked another look at the face of the other person in the bed. Light hair, somewhat androgynous… I wasn't sure if it was a man or woman, come to think of it. The voice hadn't been clearly one or the other and I wasn't getting close enough to check.

Their eyes were closed though, which was the main thing.

I crawled out of the hole I'd left in the door and had to force myself not to head back to the drain. No, that would be utter folly. Instead I reached back in, found the glass and carefully brought it back outside.

The butter knife worked the fittings loose again, although every faint creak or scrape had my heart in my throat. At last I had the glass back in place though and I patted it gently to be sure it was safe.

Okay, now I could make my escape. I crawled back to the top of the drain. One last display of fireworks, the grandest and largest so far lit up the night just before I scrambled down. It was immense and for more than a minute the sky was multi-hued, with spirals, flowers and blazing wheels of light above me.

I froze, pressed myself to the ground and prayed not to be noticed.

Either someone answered, or everyone was too busy looking up at the fireworks to look at the manse. If it was the latter then they'd probably wrecked their night vision though. With a sigh, I slid into the drain and slithered down it. At least gravity was on my side this time.

At the bottom I dipped myself into the shallow water to wash the smell of October Mist off. Wet clothes I could explain, that scent not so much.

I'd taken only a few steps away from the pond before I realised that I was being an idiot. I was dripping everywhere, leaving a clear trail.

I found a shadowy corner and wrung my tunic out, careful to check that the precious paper I was carrying was still dry. Pulling the tunic back on, I removed my pants and wrung them out too, then shook as much water off my shoes as I could.

From the sounds, guests would be coming by this way soon, with servants detailed to lead them back to their quarters in the appropriate courtyards. There was no way I dared be caught here and no time for anything better.

Slinging my pants over my shoulder, I dashed bare-legged back to the gate of the children's courtyard and slipped inside, closing the door behind me. I almost slammed it in my urgency – I was losing my head with nerves now that I was so close to success – and stopped myself at the last moment.

Leaning on the gate I took deep, steadying breaths and looked out. It was dark now, without the fireworks to add light. A few lanterns provided a bare minimum of light but since they were untended overnight, they were few and suspended where any accident wouldn't set fire to anything.

Satisfied that I was alone, I padded my way to the water closet and slid inside.

There was every possibility that if I tried to hide the Raksha dust in the nursery that someone would find it. So, I'd need to take it now. Fortunately, the water closet was one place where we had a lantern – suspended above a basin of water. I opened out the paper and judged the quantity by eye. It wasn't as if I could use scales to weigh it.

I guessed there was a full adult dose, maybe half again a full dose. Too much to risk, even if mortals generally had no huge issue. A third of a full dose would be enough, perhaps too much.

On reflections I divided the contents of the paper into three tiny piles and then divided one again into two. A sixth should be a quarter or less of a full dose. The rest I would discard.

It was obscenely wasteful, I noted. I was throwing away scores of obols worth of the stuff. Some families wouldn't see that much money at a time in their entire lives. But there was no hiding place that I could be sure inquisitive children wouldn't find it - and then potentially sample it themselves.

(I have discovered many times that bloodhounds have nothing on small children when it comes to finding hiding places).

I'd always expected to use whatever I found here, so I'd prepared in advance. There was a small cabinet in the antechamber to the actual toilet part of the room and when I switched Medra's wine for Usha's I took the actual wine and hid it here.

No one would be too suspicious about one of the staff here hiding something here to drink during a gala. For that matter, I was sure I'd seen Usha use the hiding place before. Living in a dynastic nursery was an education in all sorts of unexpected ways.

Sure enough, the flask was here and I used my fingers to transfer my chosen dose of Raksha Dust into it, shaking the wine to mix it in each time. Diluting the drug in wine would soften it further – although I might not manage the entire contents of the flask. On reflection I put another pinch of the dust in and then swept the rest onto the paper and poured it down the hole. Good luck to anyone wanting to find out if anything had been tipped down there.

The paper I tore up into tiny shreds and scattered down the hole as well. There was a decent chance of no one noticing until it was covered in excrement. All I'd need was for it to pass unnoticed until the usual morning visits were done with... probably.

I shook the flask further and then opened it. Well, here it was. Time to see if I'd accomplished anything at all last night…

Tipping it back I sipped on the wine. It wasn't all that strong, Medra didn't really indulge much. Safe enough for me to have it. I might be a bit dehydrated later but…

My eyes felt like they bulged as the wine hit my stomach. "Oh!" I gasped.

I'd never actually tried Raksha Dust – it was unwise for a Terrestrial Exalt, as I'd mentioned.

My insides felt ablaze and when I felt for my essence, the motes seemed to flow through my fingers like water.

I'd barely taken one swallow of the wine. I couldn't have had that much!

Was something wrong with the wine? My legs didn't seem to be up to holding me up any more. I slumped against the wall, mind working frantically.

No, the wine was about right. I'd had a sip or two before, we all had. It was tacitly winked at that older children slipped their juniors just enough to start their education in social drinking. Granted, I'd had half a cup at most and nodded off almost immediately, but this was pretty similar stuff…

No, I must have made a mistake with the Raksha Dust, I decided.

Dammit, dammit!

I crawled to the water hole and poured all the wine down it. Leaving any for someone to investigate would be idiocy now. Tossing the flask aside I gazed down into the pit. Every pulse of my heart sent flares of colour across my vision.

There was nothing for it. I reached down my throat with two fingers and tried to make myself gag.

I could practically feel my wings again. It had been so long since I'd flown…

No, focus, dammit.

I couldn't have said if it was the artifact wings I was remembering or other, more spiritual wings I'd developed later.

I bit on my fingers, enough for pain to focus me.

Blood tasted like iron in my mouth.

I remembered the first time I'd seen the armies of the dead marching in array. Thousands strong, advancing on Whitewall. I'd taken a direct hit from one of their essence cannons and been thrown through a fir tree. The fractured ribs had taken several hours to knit, even with Exalted healing and medical care from a competent surgeon…

I have to get it to-geth-huagh!

With a spasm, my stomach finally took the hint and acid bile preceded a gout of wine exploding out of my mouth and into the waste hole.

I shook, spat and then another clench heralded a second stream of vomit, parts of my supper. Cold trails down my leg suggested that the other end of my digestive system had let go too.

This had been a bloody stupid idea, I realised as I sat on the floor and darkness grew around me. Impatience had come close to killing me.

---

When I woke my vision was swimming. For a moment I thought the entire experience had been a dream.

Perhaps more than just last night, come to think of it.

I was in a cosy bed, under the blankets and feeling perhaps a little dry in the throat. Oh, and wearing a nappy.

If the last two or three years had been a dream then it had been unusually vivid.

I closed my eyes and blinked them again and again until I could make sense of what I saw.

Oh, it was just the ceiling. That was much less alarming than I'd expected. I sighed. Okay, the nursery ceiling. I recognised some of the knots in the wood.

Two hands took hold of one of mine and I turned my head to see Medra leaning over me. "Little Alina?" the old woman asked me in a thin, weary voice. "Can you hear me?"

I cleared my throat and croaked rather than spoke, then lifted my head and dropped it back onto the pillows. It was as near to a nod as I thought that I could manage.

She closed her hands more tightly. "You silly girl." There were actual tears forming at the corner of her eyes. "Why didn't you wake me?"

I couldn't have replied easily so I said nothing, just coughed and tried to get some moisture in my mouth.

Recovering herself, Medra helped me sit up enough to sip from a cup of milk, something easy on my throat. Once I had emptied the cup she turned away and blotted at her eyes with her apron. "You worried us very much, child."

"I'm sorry," I managed. I had failed, miserably and abjectly. I still wasn't sure why, but I wasn't going to pretend anything else. The Raksha Dust had been wasted, as had all the risks I'd taken.

Medra hugged me. "You don't know how frightened we all were when we found you were missing. And then again when Nalan found you in the toilets. Promise me you'll wake me next time if you find I'm asleep when you wake. No matter what."

I patted her reassuringly on the back and felt her cringe at the contact. "Medra, are you alright."

"Nothing I didn't deserve," she sobbed. "Now promise me."

"I promise," I agreed. I'd never even considered the consequences for her of my sneaking out. Medra, the woman who'd cared for me first and foremost, ever since I was taken away from my mother. What utter selfishness I'd shown.

A wave of shame engulfed me. I must never do this again. Exalted or mortal, enlightened or not, I had to be better than that. Being so arrogant and self-absorbed had been the downfall of far grander people than I. I'd failed to learn from their examples so now I must learn from my own idiocy.

"I promise," I said again, moving my hands up and hugging her around her shoulders where, thankfully, she wasn't as tender.

She sniffed and let me go at last. "Well, it's a lesson we should remember, I suppose. The other children have been very worried. Nalan had vapours and was in the next bed all of yesterday. He might still be there, but your father insisted he come out and be his cupbearer the same way Doreg had."

I nodded. It wasn't truly heartless of Demarol, making such appearances was not just a duty for us, it was something that would pay off for us in years to come, meeting and being seen by other important people. "I should let him know that I'm alright."

Medra pressed me down onto the pillows. "You are not alright, and you are staying right here in bed until we're sure you've fully recovered."

With a sigh I let her have her way. I owed her far too much.

"I'll let Ishah know that you've woken up. Now don't leave the bed until we're back."

"I promise." I honestly didn't feel like I could have done much more than sit up anyway. Then a thought struck me. They said Nalan had had to go to bed for a whole day. "Wait, how long have I been asleep?"

"Two days," she told me.

"…two whole days?" Good grief.

"Well, more than that now, it's almost lunchtime."

I must have really done a number on myself. I lay back and closed my eyes.

Had I damaged my essence with what I did? I was tempted to test it out but that was the sort of thinking that had got me into this trouble to begin with. No, I'd wait until I was fully recovered.

Until then I'd rest properly. Perhaps I should just go to sleep again.

It seemed like I'd barely closed my eyes when the door opened. I was about to look at Ishah but before I could move, I heard an unwelcome voice.

"She's probably not woken up. Medra's old and was imagining it," Hunt declared. "She might never wake up."

What was she even doing here? The three older children had moved out into rooms on the upper level of this building, one for Hunt and one for the twins, a while back. Only Opiha and I still slept here unless someone (usually Nalan) was ill.

"No! No!" Opiha sounded shrill. "She'll definitely wake up."

"Well she hasn't, look." And that was Doreg. "I bet she's been as ill as Nalan gets but she was hiding it and now it's all hitting her at once."

"She's not going to stay asleep forever," insisted Opiha.

"Well of course not." Hunt paused. "She'll die eventually."

"No!"

"Look." And then a finger poked at my face. "She's not moved at all."

Right, so much for being good. I waited until the finger poked again and then turned my head and snapped my teeth.

"OOOOAAAAAA!!" Hunt screamed, yanking a bloody finger away from my face.

Doreg went white as a sheet and backed away, pointing. "She's died and turned into a hungry ghost! She's here for our blood!"

Well, I wasn't going to miss a chance like that. "Blood..."

With a scream, Doreg and Hunt bolted for the door. Opiha just stood there trembling.

I stretched and smiled at the white-haired girl. "Oh, hello Opiha. I had the strangest dream."

"D-dream?"

I nodded.

"Y-you're not dead?"

"I don't think so."

And then I had my arms fully of a crying little girl. Truly the wages of sin are suffering.

---

Apparently, my definition of recovered was very different from Medra's. The gala had completely finished but I was still confined not only to the nursery but to my bed.

I really wanted to be good, but it had been another three days since I woke up. I hadn't had lessons and, in fact, I hadn't been allowed to do anything.

Also, I could apparently only be fed nourishing soup. I was beginning to think Ishah and Medra were punishing me.

Finally, my patience broke and I waited until they were gone and started to do what exercise I could without leaving the bed. I wasn't technically breaking any instructions since I wasn't leaving the bed, right? And a little exercise would tire me out, making it easier to rest later, right?

I was watching my limits though. If nothing else, spending several days in bed had left me wobbly and off-balance, so I couldn't do much at first. But after a nap, I was able to do a little more the second time.

Twice was probably as much as I could get away with, and the second nap was fitful so I figured I'd slept myself out for the day.

"I feel much better," I assured Medra when she cleaned me up after my soup. "Are you sure I can't get out of bed?"

"Not just yet," she informed me firmly. "You're still looking pale and I don't want to take any chances. You do understand, don't you? We don't want you collapsing again."

"No," I conceded. It wasn't like I could tell her why I'd passed out. Truthfully, I wasn't sure myself about all the details, but I'd be in immense trouble if they found out even what I did know.

And while I'd been left alone through most of the day while Usha was on duty, Medra set up that evening with evidently no intention of letting me out of her sight.

"Can I sit up and meditate?"

The old woman gave me a tolerant look. "Well, I suppose so." Of course, I'm fairly sure that she and the other nannies thought I was just playing at meditating and would fall asleep any time I tried. Which was mostly untrue.

(Actually, if it did put me to sleep until they were ready to let me out of bed, that would be perfectly acceptable. I wouldn't be bored if I was asleep.)

Sitting cross legged on the sheets, I closed my eyes and reached out.

Every one of us has essence. Every one of us is made of essence, for the simple reason that everything in creation is constructed of essence. Everything we do is manipulation of essence, on some level.

But direct control of it is another matter. Direct control of it can magnify everything we do. It's not a simple feat, and it's limited both in the degree of control you have and the magnitude you can draw essence from not only yourself but Creation around you.

I'd managed the first step, touching the essence of my own body. Alas, having learned as an Exalt, the techniques I knew were for the most part useless to me. Only martial arts charms were open to me out of the tricks I'd learned in my lifetime, and only the very least of these.

I could reach out though, I could isolate a mote and manipulate it. That was a start. It was something, for if you can use one then you can use more.

The question was, had my recklessness had cost me the ability to do so…? If so…

Well, I'd have to live with it.

And so, I reached out, into the complexity of life, and reached for the simplest and most common denominator. The energy flows through me.

It was hard to hold my focus, I was so nervous. For a moment I thought that I'd lost it.

And then, a moment later I felt a mote within my grasp.

A mote that flowed and shifted as I willed it.

I had it.

I hadn't wrecked my own control, crippling myself.

The relief was such that I almost fell out of my trance. I'd have to work on my control again, using your essence isn't much use if it's all you can do. But I hadn't made a complete mess of everything.

I exhaled, long and slow. Letting go of tension that I had all but internalized. It was not as bad as I had thought, not as bad as I had feared.

Sinking into the trance again I measured and judged my essence.

A sharp laugh burst out of me.

Oh, the irony.

There was so much of it.

It could only mean one thing: I'd broken through onto the next plateau. Through the luck of the devil, I'd failed my way to success. Maybe there had been more Raksha Dust than I thought or perhaps mixing it with wine was exactly the wrong or right thing to do.

I had deeper and finer control than before. Deeper reserves. If I could master them then I would be able to resume my study of arts that lacked the physical demands of Five Dragon or Crimson Pentacle Blade. There were two such that I hadn't been able to attempt, but now that barrier was irrelevant. In fact, there were several arts I might even be able to push into intermediate levels now, given the time.

"That's enough," Medra told me sternly. I opened my eyes and saw her glaring down at me, serious despite the twinkle in her eyes. "If you're laughing then this isn't meditation. And I want you properly rested if you're going to be allowed out of bed tomorrow, little Alina."

"Yes Medra," I agreed. Tomorrow, eh? I let her lay me down and cover me with the blankets. I could wait until tomorrow. Now that I knew the opportunities that I'd opened up at such a risk, I could wait as long as I needed to. Even if the Dragons never chose me in this lifetime, I had the tools to defend myself and – just perhaps – to make a difference.

Spoiler: Author Note

The default date for Exalted games is Realm Year 768. The Scarlet Empress disappeared right at the end of RY 763. Exactly when the Jade Prison was broken, releasing the Solar Exaltations held there to join the 20-30 that hadn't been contained, we don't have a specific date for. Lytek (God of Exaltations) formally reported Solars were back in circulation roughly 3 months after the Scarlet Empress disappeared, at least since the start of 764.

Because the Bull of the North's circle included six Solar Exalted, two definitely pre-dating the breaking of the Jade Prison by several years (Samea exalted in RY 753 and the Bull himself in RY 758), and others mentioned well before the end of RY 763, I'm going with the prison breaking in RY 762 with shards only slowly finding sufficiently heroic individuals who are at the right moments to Exalt, thus it taking over a year before it was clear that this was much more than shards circulating faster than usual.

 

[Candesce]

The last packet was a paste for burns. I have no idea why Demarol kept that with the rest but I put it back anyway.

Click to shrink...

Heh.

I can make a few guesses why that's in his toybox.

 

[EmperorArthur]

Essence 2, and not even 10 yet. Yeah, that's the kind of thing that can mark one as worthy of a Solar Exaltation.

No all it will take is defending another child from some ridiculous danger at way above her physical level, even with essence 2.

 

[TheUnicorn]

not taking any injuries that will heal excessively quickly &c. See the lines about "oh yeah, mortals get sunburn."

Click to shrink...

Now I'm wondering how that will interact with her period.

Pretty easy unless you're in a fight or the other guy has wizard eyes.

Click to shrink...

Or unless your a child surrounded by people who watched you all your life and are looking for signs of an Exaltation.

In full form, I'd cleaved through an entire circle of necromancers with this art. But right now, I might as well have been attempting the mighty defensive charms that allowed champions among Dragon-Blooded to resist the compulsions of the Anathema, charms that required levels of essence that most Exalted simply never attained.

It would be embarrassing if…

Click to shrink...

She'd better hope she Exalts before it's time for her to start martial arts training, there's no way she'll be able to hide her skill level without that.

Essence 2, and not even 10 yet.

Click to shrink...

I don't think she's 5 yet, or if she is that's recent.

 

[drakensis]

House Tepet is one of the eleven Great Houses that currently make up the Realm's Scarlet Dynasty, the extended family that - through blood, marriages and adoption - includes the majority of the approximately 10,000 Terrestrial Exalted native to the Blessed Isle. While not one of the largest Great Houses; numbering almost a thousand Exalted and several times that in their mortal relatives, House Tepet is comfortably in the middle-ground in terms of both population and of the number of notably powerful Exalted.

The house is descended from Tepet, a legion commander during the third and fourth centuries who was an Imperial Consort between RY 362 and his mysterious disappearance in RY 371. Shortly thereafter, Tepet's five adult children were granted the status of a Great House along with considerable estates and imperial favour, making them a useful counter to some of the Empress' elder children and their ambitions. (Tepet himself had been prominent in crushing House Manosque after their failed coup in RY 244). Such politics play no small part in the reason that only eleven of the twenty-three Great Houses declared over the centuries of the Scarlet Empress' reign still exist.

The Tepet are mostly centred around the city of Lord's Crossing and the prefecture that takes its name from that city, which has the almost unique status of being a direct dominion of a Great House. Almost half of the house treat the great fortified manse at the heart of Lord's Crossing as their permanent residence, even though they may not see it for years. In addition, five major off-shoots form distinct households elsewhere in the dominion with only the sixth and smallest branch of the House settling outside Lord's Crossing entirely. Tepet's two daughters Vergus and Marek established the first and largest of these, although Vergus' influence was curbed by her own daughter Tilis forming her own distinct household.

Together with the main household, the Vergus, Marek and Tilis households have a very strong martial tradition, with the majority of their number serving as officers in the legions. As a result of the significant number of senior Tepet officers able to exert patronage and other influence, five Imperial Legions (the 5th, 8th, 38th, 42nd and the 43rd) have their senior ranks dominated by Dragon-blooded and mortal officers from House Tepet and from affiliated patrician houses. Other legions have a much smaller presence, but the Tepet aren't so isolationist as to steer all their younger members into their 'traditional' legions.

The Berel and Nerigus households, descended from the elder children of Tepet's youngest son Jyuko, are both more focused on mercantile affairs and developing the wealth of their estates on the edges of Lord's Crossing dominion than on military careers; but even those Tepet who don't make the Legions their lives have often served for some time. The most recent household was established, by Tepet Demarol, who retired from a successful military career to Juche prefecture, the playground of the Blessed Isle's wealthiest Exalted, over a hundred years ago. While the Demarol household is by far the smallest and most far-flung of House Tepet's branches, Demarol and his wife wield great influence through the social and political connections they've made at lavish galas and during expensive hunting trips. This diversification is significantly boosting the power of the Tepet, something not welcomed by their rivals.

Spoiler: A/N

Some of this is canon to Exalted, some is me filling in gaps.

 

[EmperorArthur]

Yeah, so a Solar Exaltation among the house would be a political disaster. Are you setting out to tick every box in how that would screw literally everyone over, yet would be incredibly entertaining.

 

[Critian Caceorte]

I really love this story you've crafted over here. Initially I had thought judging from the picture that this would be a Dynast reincarnated into our world (or at least, the World of Darkness) but the actual premise is still quite engaging!