He chuckled as he let the mop swish over the floor. His wooden bucket was conveniently always in reach. No one saw that it scooted on its own when he was too far away to reach it. He heard the click-clock of footsteps behind him so he turned his head and saw them. He forced himself to contain his smile. The three walking down his hall were the three most pompous in the entire place. The one to the left, one of the leading professors, wore dark brown breeches and tan colored knee-stockings. He wore a long sleeved tunic and a black mantle was attached to his shoulders with silver brooches. He had small wire rim glasses that sat perfectly on his nose. His dark brown hair was tied into a small tail at the nape of his neck and his hair was slicked down with goose fat so that not a single hair was askew. The man in the middle was a bit portly and his belly slightly hung over his pants. His coat tried to hide the fact, the four diamond box-set buttons were strategically placed so that the coat closed over his stomach, helping to pull it in. He wore loose light blue pants and polished ankle boots. He was a long nosed fellow with eyes like a hawk's. His hairline was just beginning to recede so his bangs were extra puffy. The last fellow was rather handsome, with dark olive skin on his medium built body. Even though he was of medium to small stature, the way he held himself made him appear taller. His doublet was of the finest silk, over a white satin shirt. His pants were tight fitting black leather, his boots made out of black suede. His dark raven hair was loose over his shoulders and the sun light streaming through the large windows caught red highlights. 

The janitor closely listened, his hearing better than any other's in the Land. 

"And I say that Vanieve will attack! They've been planning something for years!" the good looking man said.

"And I say that you are as wrong as ever Xinuil. Your head is so full of nonsense that you cannot even begin to listen to good reason," the man with glasses replied. "All of my reports have stated that Uryav has been up to nothing. The old braggart is too decrepit to take on the full weight of war."

"And I say that both of you are too lazy-eyed to see the bigger problem," the portly man said. The other two stopped, and when the fat man realized it, he linked his hands together behind him and only turned his head to look at them. "What is your problem?"

"What is this 'bigger problem' Xinols?" the young man demanded.

"That our recruits are too small in numbers to do anything for us," the fat man, Xinols, replied. The other two nodded their head in agreement and they began to slowly walk again.

"There is nothing we can do about it. Sorcerers are dwindling again. It is a wave and we have just crashed into the beach. It will take time before the number of sorcerers in the Land crest again," the man with glasses replied. 

"You're right Xinith. Every century even you can be correct," Xinuil replied. All three gave polite little chuckles. The started to pass the janitor and kept silent, their eyes forced forwards. 

"Sirs, I'd be askin' another question of me own dis time," he called out. None of them stopped. He continued, "I'd be askin' why haven't dere been any attacks lately? Not a single skirmish, no sir." He made them stop. He smiled at himself and began to mop the floor again. 

"You, what is your name?" Xinols, the fat man asked. 

"Chris," the janitor replied as he kept a steady gaze with the man. It became a match of wills as Xinols seemed to dare him to be the first one to look away. The janitor would do no such thing. It became silent as the two stared at each other until finally Xinols looked away. He muttered, 

"Common vagrant," under his breath. 

"You are human, servant?" Xinith asked, saying "human" as if it was venom in his mouth. 

He looked to the sorcerer with glasses. "I believe yer de sorcerer. Can't ya tell me dat?" he replied. 

"Definitely human," Xinith muttered rolling his eyes.

"How do you know about these things of which you speak?" Xinuil demanded. 

The janitor only smiled. "I do. Or, perhaps I be just a loony speakin' de last of my mind." He bent down and picked up the wire handle for his bucket. With mop and bucket in hand he said, "Excuse me sirs, but I gotta go clean de chamber pots." He didn't miss the sour looks on the sorcerers' faces as he left them. As soon as he turned the corner, he made both bucket and mop disappear. His normal clothes appeared- a pair of dark brown cotton pants and a light blue shirt with laces at the neck. His gray cloak was pulled together at his right shoulder, the folds of it reaching the floor behind him. His hair, golden once again, was tied at the nape of his neck, the hand length tail hidden by the cloak. 

"Those arrogant fools are so preoccupied that they wouldn't see a snake in front of their eyes until it bit them. I should do that, while they sleep plant some little viper to bite their noses. That should make them sore." He shook his head and turned away. He began to walk down the corridor, his thoughts pounding at him as his boot heels clicked on the limestone floor. 

"Someone new needs to change this place. Of course, I could always come back and order them around. I hate doing it that way. It reassures them that I'm still alive. Then whenever they have a petty squabble they expect me to fix it like a mother looking out for her children. Damn it! I'm not their guardian! They should be out in the Land helping, not here in the confines of this place. Maybe I should just tear it down. Grandmother would be angry at me then. Xinzia did spend a lot of effort making this place." He stopped and looked out the window. A vista of rolling hills and lined farm land greeted his eyes. "I wonder where she is? When I saw her last century she was in Scorian again. She has some strong ties to that place, like Mother does in Hiew." He paused for a moment, closed his eyes and thought of his dead father. He spoke a prayer for the dead and opened his eyes again. The sun was starting to turn a vivid red as it was beginning to hide behind the horizon. 

"And what number are you? Soon I'm going to reach my four hundred-thousandth sunset. I'm too old. Maybe I should just give it up, right now. I could be with Robin for rest of eternity in the Otherworld. And Marielle and Xinul. My dear children." He raised his power deep within him, ready to give himself the death blow. He became warm as his powers bubbled inside of him; and like steam in a pot, they wanted to escape. He waited a moment more, letting the slight discomfort make him wince before he diminished it with a snap of his thought. It disappeared leaving him cold. He took a moment to make sure no one had "heard" him and began to walk again. Every time a new wizard or magician first tried using their powers, he and everyone else in the Land with magic coursing through their veins heard it. Magic left a sound when called upon. Those who knew how to control it could make the sound so small that other sorcerers couldn't hear them. Of course, he always heard. He always heard and no one ever heard him. His powers were too great and his skills too amazing for him to be heard like a common first year sorcerer student at Qu'Eleth. That is where he walked now. His Grandmother had set up the learning center for sorcerers a millennium ago so that they wouldn't be killed when they first tried to use their powers. This way sorcerers could be counted and easily called upon in times of battle or duty. His mother, the great Xinthia, had taken charge of it for three hundred years. He refused to do so. He had never believed in some of the practices- like keeping the first year students busy like slaves. They didn't even begin to practice magic until their fifth year. 

He stopped when he heard the sounds of light footsteps. He listened for a moment weighing whether he should change or not. Deciding against it- only a few knew what he looked like- he turned the corner into the hallway. A young woman was in the hall, holding up her dress' hemline as she quickly walked towards him. She looked to be barely twenty, with auburn tresses that were piled up on top of her head then cascaded down the back of her shoulders in tiny spiral curls. Her dress was pale red looking good on her with her lightly tanned skin and thin body. She was not a ravishing beauty- there were a few faults with her- but she did lit up the hallway. Her small white slippers hardly made any sound as she picked up her pace to a slight jog. As she neared him he could see that her eyes were a bright emerald green and set off by dark lashes. A slight color of red lip paint stained her lips and a hint of rouge was on her cheeks. 

She paid no heed to him and as she passed him he heard,

"Master Xinior is going to be so upset with me for being late." 

This caused him to stop and watch her run off. "I don't like the way she said that. Xinior had always been a little lustful." He stood still for only a moment more, before he casually turned around and followed her from a distance. He knew where she was going anyway- he knew where all of the masters or professors lived in Qu'Eleth. 

His pace was calm as he walked towards Xinior's chambers. He opened his hearing and sent his mind to Xinior's chambers. 

"Novice Roselyn, I was almost thinking that you had forgotten. As it is, you are dreadfully late." 

"I'm so sorry Master Xinior! I truly am! I'll never do it again."

"How am I supposed to take your word, Novice? This is the second time you have been late to my instructions."

There was silence and it bothered him. Carefully, he found a little spider in a corner of the ceiling. Very carefully, he put the creature's mind to sleep then he took over. He cursed when his sight came through eight eyes. But he could see the room now. The young woman had loosen the strings to her dress and it now rested in a circle around her feet. She stood in her shift in front of Xinior. The sorcerer was a partly handsome man with tame red hair cut above his ears and a slightly defined body. 

"Then take out my punishment, Master," she replied, with a slightly shakiness. 

The sorcerer slowly walked towards her. One of his hands went to her right shoulder. "You are learning Novice." His other hand went to her left breast. She slightly gasped and he could see that she was biting her bottom lip close. 

"I was hoping that you could teach me Master," she said, her eyes off somewhere else. 

"I will," he replied lewdly.

"In magic, Master." 

"One must know the full extent of his or her physical body before trying to understand the universe." His lips went to her neck.

He pulled his mind back from the spider's as he approached the door. There was a page on duty in front of Xinior's doors. The young man crossed his spear in front of the entrance as he tried to enter. 

"Master Xinior is busy," the young man said, his voice breaking. 

"I don't care. Now stand aside." The boy looked like he was going to protest, but his mind got changed for him and he stood aside. 

He opened the door and said, "Xinior, sir, you have been given orders to Girhew." The young woman gasped and turned her back to him, her arms going up to cross in front of her shift covered breasts. The sorcerer instantly turned angry, his face flushing red. He turned his gray eyes on to him.

"How dare you interrupt me! Do you understand the power I hold in my one little finger?" he yelled. 

"I do understand, sir, but I could care less." He took his hand out from behind his back where a scroll had been resting. He handed it to Xinior. "This is from Xinisia. She demands that you go and protect the town of Girhew, immediately. She says that you are to leave tonight, before the moon is high." The sorcerer grabbed the scroll, broke the wax seal and quickly scanned it. His face turned pale, Girhew was not one of the more civilized places in the Land. 

"She can't." Xinior rolled the scroll up and looked to the young woman. "Stay here," he barked. "This won't take long to correct." The sorcerer roughly then brushed past him. 

He watched him go with a smile on his face. When the door was closed again, he turned to the young woman. "Come on, get dressed." She turned haughty eyes on him.

"Excuse me? Are you talking to me, servant?" she demanded. He only crossed his arms in front of him. 

"We are leaving here and I would think you'd rather wear something more than your shift in the hallways." He paused. "And my name is Christian, not servant."

"Whoever you are, I don't have to listen to you. You heard what Master Xinior said; he will be back and he will be angry if I'm not here. I need his approval so I can move on in my classes."

"His approval? Is that what you call what he was doing to you?" She flushed and had to look away. "He won't be coming back here and he won't be doing that to you." She looked back to him, a slight glimmer of hope in her eyes. She shook her head and looked to the floor.

"How do you know? You are human," she softly said. 

"I would place my life on the betting table because I'm so sure that he is going to Girhew." He changed his tone as she looked back up at him, her emerald eyes wide. "I promise you this."

"For some strange reason, I believe you."

He only nodded his head. "Good." She bent over and pulled up her dress. Once it was in place, she started to retie the straps to her dress. 

"Where are we going?" she asked, her eyes on him as her deft fingers tied. 

"To the library." 

"That stuffy place? Why? It's so dark in there and usually only the book keeper Trianix is in there." 

"Exactly." 

She walked by his side as he made his way to the library. He didn't take the main corridor, the most direct route there, but instead used smaller hallways.

"How long have you worked here, Christian was it?" she asked. 

"Longer than I have would have liked," he replied, his eyes looking ahead of him. 

"But you don't look that old," Roselyn protested. 

He flashed her a cunning smile. "Remind me to thank you for that," he replied. "At least the last couple of years. I can't remember for sure." 

"How old are you?" she asked. 

He threw her a glance. "Curious, aren't you?"

She blushed. "My mother always said it would be my downfall one day."

"Don't believe that. Curiosity is one of the greatest virtues we possess. If we didn't have curiosity, the Land would stay unexplored. We wouldn't know what's ten leagues south of us. We would stay trapped up in our houses and places like this because we wouldn't be curious of what is out there for us." He paused. "Let's say I'm around thirty winters. Here's the doors to the library." He placed his left hand on the old dark wood and began to push it open. 

"You're married?" He stopped and looked back at Roselyn. 

"Pardon?" he quietly asked. She pointed with her right hand to his left. 

"You wear a tiny silver ring on your left hand, where a wedding ring should lie. My mother also always said I was observant. So, are you married?" He turned his eyes to the small ring. It was just a thin band of silver, nothing extravagant. He thought of Robin. With a lump in his throat, he replied,

"She's dead," then pushed the door open. 

"I'm sorry," Roselyn softly murmured as she followed him.

The library was a large place, with a ceiling that was as high as the great hallway. Thick strong rafters held the ceiling up, the decorations that once adorned them too covered up to be seen anymore. There was a general dry feeling in the air as the smells of dust and time wafted past Christian's nose. He deeply inhaled and felt time running through his blood. The book cases were monstrous, a ladder was needed to get to the top shelf. The book cases ran in no particular order. Some stood like soldiers, back to front, one after another in a straight line. Those on the opposite side of the main door stood shoulder to shoulder, their backs against the walls. It created an empty space in the middle of the room. A long table was there, with twenty chairs pulled up to it. Unscrolled parchments were littered all over along with half opened books and a jar of ink and a quill. Christian looked from one end of the mess to the other and laughed. 

"Trianix- you are still as messy as always!" he called aloud. There was a scuffle of shoes and an old man, with a long white beard came running out from among the stacks. He wore loose green robes that swished when he ran towards them. 

"Christian! You old fox! I was wondering where you've been lately!" He wrapped his thin arms around Christian and swept him up in a hug. When he let loose, he was widely grinning, showing the loss of one or two teeth. 

"Here and there, you know my lifestyle." He looked back over his shoulder and pointed a hand to the woman. "Do you know Roselyn? She's a Novice here." The old man shook his head. 

"Not too many people come in here. I believe it's because of all the old stories about me. They probably scare all these young things. But enough about myself! What about you? Where have you been?" Trianix asked. Christian shook his head.

"Now isn't the time, my friend. I was coming to acquire some information from you." 

The old man nodded his head. His white eyebrows then shot up. "Excuse me for being such a bad host! Please, please come and sit down." He ran to the table and pulled back a seat for Roselyn. "Here you are miss." She bowed her head to him and sat down, her dress slightly going out of place before she calmly ran her hands over her skirts and patted them back into place. Christian sat a few chairs away from her on the same side and the old man sat across from him. 

"Now, what can I do for you Christian?" Trianix asked. 

"I'm finding that some of the sorcerers here are getting a little too comfortable. The big three are too busy with their own affairs to pay any attention to the Land. If they're not careful, Uryav is going to attack and bring everything down. He will be so powerful that Qu'Eleth won't be able to get back on its knees." 

"Replace them," Trianix replied. Christian laughed. 

"I would love to my friend, but that is impossible. They are very powerful and sometimes they do think." Roselyn gasped and the two men looked at her. One of her small hands covered her agape mouth. 

"What is the matter?" Christian asked. 

"You are talking about terrible things! There should be no ill spoken of the Dean Masters." 

Christian looked back to Trianix. "This is what I'm finding." The old man was still looking at the young woman. 

"They are well training them," he muttered. 

"Too well for my tastes," Christian replied. "Anyway, what are your sources saying about Xanieve?" Trianix shook his head. 

"It isn't pleasant. Uryav is up to something. He is sending his sorcerers out into the Land. Spreading them out. I got a report that Xinrit was sent to the Imperial City of Gil'alla. Except for the heavy trading that takes place there, I can't think of a logical reason why Uryav would send someone as powerful as Xinrit to that oasis city." Christian nodded his head in silence. 

"There's only one way to find out," he muttered.

"Uryav won't speak. That man can be harder to find than luck on the betting tables." 

"I was thinking about Xinrit." Trianix silenced as his eyes widened in their fleshy sockets. 

"He hates you more than anyone else I can think of. He'll find you before you can even come close to him. You won't even get one foot in the Imperial City." Christian turned his head and looked at the young woman. She had stayed silent, not completely understanding everything. She did know who Uryav was; she didn't know how Christian knew him. When both men stared at her she began to feel uncomfortable.

"They still have the Assassin's Quarter in the Imperial City, don't they Trianix?" Christian asked, his eyes still on her. 

"Yes, but I don't see how that can help you."

"There are quite a few wizards and magicians in the Assassin's Guide. They aren't completely trained, and they make a good deal of noise." 

"Xinrit can spot a sorcerer from a magician." 

"Not one who hasn't Awakened." Both men became silent. 

"Why, why are you looking at me?" Roselyn asked. 

"By the title of Novice, I'm guessing you haven't Awakened, have you Roselyn?" Christian asked.

She started to shake her head then it clicked in her mind. "Me?! Go to the Imperial City of Gil'alla!" she cried. "Never!" She stood up. When Christian stood up she pointed a finger at him. "Don't move or I'll have to use my powers." He froze but the librarian laughed in his seat. When she threw a glance at him, he closed his mouth but a wide grin was still present on his face. She looked back to Christian and saw that he was completely upright. "I said don't move! What don't you understand about that human?" she demanded. 

He extended his arms out in both directions. "I'm harmless. Now stop being silly and think about this rationally."

"Rationally?! Some human saves me from Master Xinior and now he orders me to go to the Imperial City of Gil'alla, and you think I should be the one speaking rationally?! I am the sorcerer, I am the one in charge here. I should report the both of you to the Dean Masters. Then you would be thrown out of here if not killed!" she bravely told. Trianix broke out in laughter again. She hated it. Without thinking, she brought her powers to full strength within her and pointed at the librarian. She had planned for a little lightning bolt to come out and just give the old man a jolt. Indeed, the flash of light left her fingertips but it went sharply astray. It crashed against a book case, sending a book into flames. In horror, she looked to the small fire that was about to expand and consume the entire room when the fire suddenly became smaller and twinkled out of existence. She quickly turned her head around and saw that Christian had his right hand extended towards the blaze, his right hand making a fist. She watched in silence as one by one his fingers uncoiled. She gasped when she saw the small flicker of flame dance on his palm. She could only stare as the fire slowly wavered in his palm before it died out. She slowly let her eyes travel up the man's body until she came to his eyes. She had never noticed how strangely blue they were. They weren't one shade of blue, but instead made up of pinpoints of blue hues. She instantly remembered her teachings and muttered, 

She was frozen as the man in front of her looked back to the librarian. "What nonsense they teach nowadays Trianix. Did any of that make sense to you?"

The old man shrugged. "It is well descriptive Christian." 

"Oh Gods above, I was right." She immediately dropped to her knees on the floor. 

He just stood there and watched as she pressed her face against the stone ground. "That is a little much." He sighed and looked back to Trianix. "She'll definitely have to come now. I can't have her telling everyone in Qu'Eleth about me." She gasped again. He rolled his eyes and looked back to her. "Get up Roselyn. You don't see Xinairt on the floor, now do you?" She raised her head and her emerald eyes first looked to him then to the old man. 

"You, you are Xinairt? The eternal Xinairt? The one who's supposed to be over three thousand years old?" He only nodded to her. "Why are you here? Pretending to be this Trianix the Librarian?" she asked. 

"His imagination is sometimes limited. He could only think of Trianix because it's his sorcerer name spelled backwards," Christian told. He leaned over and extended his hand, the same one that the fire had danced upon. "Let me help you up." 

"I would have used my birth name except I forgot it. I've been Xinairt for so long the other name kinda got lost." He chuckled again. "As to why I'm here, where else is there such a great number of books? Some are so ancient I'm the only one who can read them."

"Take my hand." 

She looked back to the man, Christian a few moments ago, Xinthusla now, who held his hand out to her. Both of her hands reached out and placed themselves on the sides of his right. She stared at his palm, amazed to find not a single trace of the fire. She ran her right thumb over his warm palm. 

"That tickles." 

She looked up to his face and could not believe that he was smiling. "You are really Xinthusla? The greatest sorcerer ever?" She paused. "You could kill me, him, everyone in this place if you wanted to, couldn't you?" she softly asked. 

"Why would I do a thing like that? Come and take my hand. I think the cold is starting to addle your mind." She finally did take his hand and slowly rose to her feet. She swallowed on a dry throat as she looked into his eyes. 

"Are you really going to the Imperial City of Gil'alla?" Even softer she asked, "Are you really going to take me with you?"

He only nodded his head. "I find things much easier when people, especially sorcerers, believe I have disappeared. I can't leave you here to tell everyone about my appearance. Xinith, Xinuil and Xinols will track me down if they heard that I was here." She looked to the old man. 

"What about him? Why does he get to stay here?" 

The librarian chuckled as he stroked his beard. "My dear, I'm over three thousand years old. I am capable of holding a secret or two. I have more faith in Xinthusla than those three peacocks combined. You are still young, in your mortal years. Time hasn't stopped for you yet. You can promise that you will keep your silence, but putting complete trust into one so young is hard."

She looked back to the blond man in front of her. She squared her shoulders back and asked, "When do we leave?"