Opalite Wires

The sylph at Boula's ear trasmitted perfectly her sister's suspicion. "He disappears suddenly...and his room is dim? Doesn't he have a job to take care of?"

"Right, at The Libra."

"And didn't you say you didn't particularly know if he even had anyone else that he was close with, other than you?" The sylph even snorted in derision, rustling its body against the skin of her ear. She repeated, "And the room was dim?"

"Yes."

"Then...wouldn't it be likely that maybe...if maybe for an instant, the lights failed —"

"No," Boula said stiffly. "It wasn't that. There weren't signs of struggle, or signs that the room had been dark at all. He really just...disappeared. He doesn't even necessarily have that room anymore — I took all his stuff."

"You took all his stuff?"

"Well — most of it — letters and things, not the furniture." There wasn't any place to put it.

"Do the letters say anything?"

"I haven't opened them," Boula said with pursed lips. "Leu, come on, that's illegal."

"Who cares? He's not there to read it. I mean, according to you and your darkest fears, he might not even come back at all, right?"

"Leu. They're mostly bills and stuff anyway. From High."

"If it's just bills and stuff, that's all the more reason why there's no point in not reading them. Maybe that's where he went," she snorted, attempting some humor. "To pay bills. Anthem High."

They were quiet. Boula stared at the scratchy false gold frame of the compact mirror, letting Leucan's face look at her, frozen with furrowed brows and tongue partly sticking out from a mouth in mid word.

"Bou?" Leucan said finally, and Boula dragged the back of her hand across the mirror, wiping off the condensation into a new image of Leucan, looking dismayed.

"I'm alright," Boula told her, knowing that Leucan would see through it. "I just needed to talk to someone. But I'm hungry now, so I'm going to get something to eat. Let Mother and Father know I'm alright."

"Right," Leucan said, sounding relieved. "Ah...contact me later...if anything new comes up, alright?"

"Of course."

Boula clipped the compact shut and tossed it on her bed. That was Leucan — slow and awkward to comforting. In some ways Boula only felt worse than she did before.
She went to the window and looked outside, across the expanse of the city, lit in grids and webs of opalite wire. Somewhere out there — in the shadows, in a building — there was Seph. Safe, hopefully. No way to tell that he really hadn't just run off and was perfectly fine. No reason to feel that he wasn't fine except that her feeling that somehow, he definitely wasn't.

She glanced across the city, and then upward. Perhaps not in the shadows or buildings at all.

Labels: boula

as soon as possible, backing out as fast as she could without tripping over any of the wires.

Well? asked the lymantri who was waiting outside the door. He was stooped over a bit, and his hands fiddled with the tines of his arms, releasing a tinny, whining noise which Boula recognized as lymantri apprehension.

"I don't know," Boula said, just as uneasy. "I have no idea."

His rent is paid out until the end of this hue, the lymantri said, but after then, I will have to remove his things.

He must be nervous; she'd never met a lymantri so wordy. The words shuddered thin and shivery across his wings, outlined only briefly in the natural cracks of color on them; it was like trying to find words on the veins of a leaf.

"Are you going to have the light fixed?" she asked.

Of course, of course. But as I said, after the end of this hue...

Boula tried unsuccessfully to remember the current date, then pried her planner from her back and consulted it. There would be three flickers of day and night before the hue ended. She gave the room another glance and then came to decisions.

"I'll take his things for safe keeping," she told the landlord, "if that's all right." She didn't want him to lose anything important, in the event of his not returning, and she also didn't want his things to be tossed out and devoured if they could mean something later. The lymantri nodded.

It is approved of, he declared, and left. Trust it to lymantri to trust their adem over all else. That Boula had been previously granted invitation to this apartment, that she had been trusted by the security, meant to the lymantri that she was pretty much trusted to do anything else with Seph's things.

Though, Boula thought uneasily, if someone were the cause of Seph breaking away, surely there's a likelihood that Seph also trusted this person beyond his front door...

It occurred to her that, despite the fact that she thought of Seph as her best friend, she didn't really know that much about him, namely, the identities of his other close friends, or anything about the High Anthem culture that he had come from. She was gripped abruptly with a sorrow and fear so strong that her vision started to blur.

Stop it, she told herself, he's fine, I'm sure he's fine, he's from High Anthem, he's bunches older than you, he knows how to take care of himself, he definitely isn't dead somewhere, he's — perfectly fine —

Labels: boula

while really pressing at her tearducts and sniffing her nostrils clean. The last thing she wanted to do while she was still a brand-new student at Fallish was bring her sister's wrath to it. Even when they had been toddling around on their twos, Leucan hadn't spared anyone.

Boula reached for the mirror when she felt it was safe, and rubbed the misted surface across her sheets. Leucan's face looked back at her, her expression paused in narrow-eyed suspicion.

"Is that so," whispered the sylph at Boula's ear. "It doesn't seem that way to me."

"There's just so many people...and my classes are already talking about tests...it's stressful." This was true.

"Tests already! Have you even learned anything yet?"

"I don't think so. Well, they're not completely immediately..."

"Do you have classes and things already, then?"

"Yes. Just introductory ones. Anthem Low history, introductory biologic, and language —"

"Wait a minute, haven't you already studied biologic?"

"It's different in university, sister, they'll go more in-depth."

"In an introductory class?"

"Yes," Boula said, with more confidence than she actually had.

"Alright," Leucan said doubtfully. "And what's that last one, language?"

"Low language."

"Are you kidding? Don't you think you already know how to speak Low? Aren't we talking it now?"

"It's going to go more into dialects," Boula said, trying to remember from the syllabus. "And into etymologies. And morphology."

"Mor — what?"

"Morphology, that's how words transform, like in different mouths or in different airs. Like say through a sylph or something. There's also probably going to be stuff about the history of Anthem Low and High, how the languages of both work together...things like that...and probably how the words work between different bloods as well, I mean, our way of speaking is different than the passerines' way, right?"

"I suppose," Leucan said, but she still sounded a little doubtful, and in fact a little bored.

Labels: boula

pocked and multi-colored and curvy in some places where the parts of the building had withstood the Tragic Age. Wind rushed through the halls constantly, slyphs rushing back and forth with words tangled up in their tresses and toes, and as a result the whole place was kind of helplessly filled with noise, though not to a deafening extent.

There were so many voices around the Bell at any given time, however, and after they had made their way past a couple hallways Boula felt her ears start to strain; she flattened them against her skull and it was in that moment that a bell rang. It was unlike any bell she'd ever heard — it was unimaginably deep, and seemed to resonate in her chest and the bridge of her nose — it seemed to make the air shimmer for a moment, and immediately following it Boula thought that she had been deafened, until she realized that the sylphs had scattered.

"At lunch the voices always exalt, almost to lack of hearing," Frux Melior Prass explained, and Boula almost jumped — she had not expected him to speak to her. She noticed now too, that he had a sort of accent which only slightly edged his rich voice, but was more pronounced in his word choice.

"So the bell rings more often then?" Boula guessed.

"True."

"How do you know this already?" Wasn't he new like her?

"I crossed this campus much in my youth," he explained. "For my profession."

His profession? Was he a scholar so young? She glanced at his raddle. It was more of an impulse, because the text was too small for her to read, and he said for her, "I indeed am primarily Scholar, but natally and more fun a Tenor."

"Ah!" She was impressed. She was going to ask more but before she could, their party halted. Luserna, who had been leading at the front, gave a horrible gagging noise — "Uaagh!" — and stepped back without warning, palms pressed against her nostrils.

"Awful," she managed, wavering, and Nivus reached to steady her but before he could she had rushed to the window and was inhaling deeply. For a moment it seemed to Boula that she was trying to rid her nose of the smell, and then she realized that she was actually trying to take in more of it — her eyes were closed and her breast lifted with a heavy inhalation.

Melior glanced at her, bewildered as Boula was; Salt looked surprised; Nivus looked tense, and he glanced back and forth down the hallway, as if he expected something to appear at any moment.

"What is it?" Melior asked finally, and Luserna huffed at him. She looked back and glared.

"If you'd let me just concentrate, maybe we'd both know!"

"Luserna, this is the third counting of your behavior this flicker. Surely we deserve some explanation?"

"You don't need to even pay attention if you don't want to," she told him. "Whatever it is, it has nothing to do with you, I know that much."

"But with the rest of us?" Salt asked nervously. "Is it something bad?"

"I don't know. It's something powerful...but it doesn't necessarily mean that it's bad."

"Perhaps it's only a storm," Nivus suggested. "The passerines' seasons are changing at this time, after all. You could be smelling the foreign sylphs."

Luserna balked at arguing against Nivus. "I could," she admitted.

Labels: boula, fallish university

If the horns of the fat, tilted administration towers were the brain of the university, then the union building was its heart and stomach. Students passed through consistently, following the artery lines of their schedules and hunger, clotting in the basement meeting areas, heaving away mass-made food. The building was called the Bell, due to its being graced by such an object which was not visible from the ground.

Outside the stairway leading down to the entrance, students were tabling; there were one or two ungu, both pale- and short-haired, seated at a table which Nivus appproached, and when they noticed he was coming they waved and called greetings.

"Welcome, freshmen," said one of them. "I'm Tonsor Yell Pritt." The five of the younger ungu replied back with their own names, even Boula; she watched him carefully for any reaction. It seemed to her that he made a point of meeting her eyes and smiling.

"And I am Gia Thinam Firmitas," said the other ungu. This one too accepted all their introductions with nods, but nodded especially deeply to Luserna and Nivus, and added, "I am humbled to meet you."

"We are pleased to meet you," Luserna replied, for both herself and Nivus, who only smiled kindly. Boula found this strange -- why the formality? Were these two famous somehow? Wouldn't Boula know if they were? -- and glanced at Salt and Melior, to see if they also felt the atmosphere change; but if they felt it, they made no move, and in fact Salt was rushing ahead already into the Bell.

Labels: boula, fallish university

heard also the words of her mother, echoing with warning; but it felt so nice to be invited. And anyway, they were all quite kind-looking. And anyway, who was her mother to speak of those she had never met before?

The others all walked together, though at different paces, the Tonsor male stepping double the others at the front of the group and turning back to catch "down" frequently, the Frux male walking aside without rush and without looking around. Though there were at the center of the group, the Gia siblings (she could only guess they were siblings — they were both named Luculo after all, though maybe it was different in Gia) were clearly leading their small herd, and when they turned right towards another building both Tonsor Salt and Frux Melior altered their courses accordingly.

It seemed they all knew each other well enough already and spoke with ease. Gia Luserna was talking about how she hadn't been able to make it into her course; Gia Nivus was sympathizing somewhat, and mentioned something about next quarter, at which point Luserna scoffed.

"They won't teach it next quarter," she grumbled.

Nivus looked confused. "I saw it on the offering, I'm sure —"

"It just won't," Luserna snapped, and Nivus opened his mouth to speak again and then closed it, saying, "Oh, I see."

"What?" Boula asked. She'd missed something.

Luserna turned toward her, just enough so that she could see Boula from the edge of her left eye.

"I can smell it," she explained, and Boula blinked, and understood. So Luserna could smell the future. There were certain ungu in Terrai as well that could scent beyond the fences of the present, but in general the winds of fate rendered this ability useless unless the time scented was very close, or the power itself very strong. Boula's mother had this power but its greatest expression caused her to furrow her nose horrendously on the days when Leucan got into fights.

"You're going to do it again," Boula's mother would warn, nostrils flared, and Leucan would glare and argue and leave and indeed Boula's parents would receieve a slyph later informing them of bruises on some poor ungu with bruises in the shape of Leucan's horns.

"It stinks," Luserna continued, shaking her head. Her hair swung back and forth like pale fluid. "I hate it when my plans go wrong."

"Is that what you usually smell?" Boula asked. "When something you've planned goes awry? My mother could smell whenever my sister got into fights, for example."

Luserna wrinkled her nose at Boula as if she emitted some greater stink. "I can smell a lot of things," she said. "One of my secondary licenses is prophet. I can smell my plans going wrong and I can smell bones breaking and illness. I can smell when soulmates meet. I can smell the endings of books I haven't read. And I can smell when I meet friends. And enemies."

This was obviously a pointed remark and the hairs on Boula's nape rose.

"And you're sure they're not just self-fulfilling prophecies?" she asked, aware that in doing so she was herself pressuring the future to bend the certain way that Luserna wanted.

Tonsor Salt, several lengths away, laughed; Luserna flushed angrily and opened her mouth to snap back, but before she could Nivus said, "Ah, here we are."

Labels: boula

"I was hoping that you would choose some profession closer to the rest of us," she confessed to her daughter honestly, "but Vivane is right. Farness is a fact of life. And in fact you will not really be too far," she sighed, as if to convince herself. "Just beyond sight."

She failed to convince Boula, who had felt increasingly fidgety as the days wore on, closer to the start of term and the date of her departure. She had always been in Terrai — well, or in Sedimoreal — in any case she'd never been so far from everyone else. Unlike other years, when there were at least a handful or so of ungu going to universities, she was the only one from Terrai planning to attend Fallish.

"There are some other things that I need to tell you, my love," Ginnie said, and they sat down at a table. "Concerning things you may see out there."

She reached behind her, and removed a long tube from the shelving. From this she withdrew and unfurled a map across the table, flattening the big curl of it carefully with the knuckles of her hooves. It crinkled and did not tear; it appeared to be a sort of parchment, or perhaps clothpaper. On it was a map of Low Anthem, which contained simple information about the borders of the grades, and more detailed information pertinent especially to ungu. The quality of earth and the stretch of clan territories were shaded and patterned clearly, and were in more prominent colors than were the Standard Low Boundary Lines.

"Here is Terrai, of course. And I am sure you are aware of Sedimoreal, as well as other areas and clans were ungu are. You are my smart girl and I know you are aware of this, but something you know nothing of is the way that we ungu are treated in main Low.

"I'm sure you have read about even this. There are those who think that our ways are wrong, that we value our own blood too much, and for the wrong reasons. There will be some who will hate you upon sight. I advise you to ignore them, unless they strike out against you; in which case, you must strike back, my darling, not necessarily with your hooves or your horns but with your wits, and with knowing what things are right in your heart."

These were all very big ideas. Boula only felt more sick and nervous, but her mother was getting so into things that she didn't dare stop her.

"Out of everyone, however," her mother said, "the ones that you must watch against the most are other ungu. I don't know how the world has changed since I was last in it, but there are certain things that come through the borders, which are not often spoken of.

Her hoof scuffed the high mountains at the opposite edge of Low. "Tonsor — they inhabit the lands closest to darkness. I am sure that you are aware their wool is the most conductive of any kind. They can be a sharp folk, fast-witted and sometimes insulting — they are friends of Terrai — they love amusement and can be fickle. So be careful in trusting them.

"Frux is another clan that often send their own to universities. They come from the drier plains, where there are often dark storms. It is for this reason that their clan supply much of the rare, pliant wool, but their kind is very solemn, and they do not make much of their lives public.

"That aside, there is also —"

"Mother," Boula interrupted, "how do you know all this? These have to be only rumors. I don't see how everyone that I may meet at school would adhere to these cruel things."

Ginnie frowned. "It's true that they may not," she said, "but I only wish to arm you in preparation, so you are not confused, so you are not hurt. Wish the best of people, of course, but I'm telling you, they will also be aware of the rumors of the Terrai folk. Oh, did you not think that others believed things of us too? They regard us as a narcissistic bunch, beautiful but also capable of foul temper and easy physical aggression. This description does happen to suit someone we know very well, don't you think, my mountain goat?"

They grinned at each other.

"But alas, if you have no wish for all the gossip of the ungu lands, then I will spare you. I only wish to warn you of this last clan" — she pointed towards a shadow labeled Gia in the rocky portions of the Feathered Trenches — "who for certain are quite old in their ways of thinking. And to be frank, my love, they may not take to you well, specifically, because you are baa'er. They prize well-hanging hair as any ever did in the pastoral days. If you see hate from them, this is why."

She sighed and began to roll up the paper. "It is true that there have been bad and deadly things in our own past, but do not lose faith in your family and your clan, for we love you, and do not lose faith in this world, for it has more to offer than you may immediately see. Should you ever forget," she said finally, "only look at this."

It was a compact mirror — a small shell of a thing with a large compressible button to open it, easy for sometimes clumsy ungu digits. Boula opened it. Inside was a large mirror and a comb.

"This will make it easy for us to contact you while you are so far away."

"Thank you, mother!"

Labels: beings, boula, ungu

was comprised of elementary levels and secondary levels of schooling, and was located (not unexpectedly) on one of Sedimoreal's mesas, a larger one that was also closest to Terrai. To reach the school, Boula joined two other students, one piebald and one coarse-haired, as well as a guardian who accompanied the three of them to a bus ferry port just outside of Gypspar.

The ground was rougher than any of the younger ones were used to, and so the trek was tough work, but not as tough as actually navigating the unpavement and gravel and steeps of Sedimoreal. The first time that they had crossed into Sedimoreal, actually, it had turned out that they were too light for the place. With some measure of confusion the young ones found that they were struggling to even put their hooves to the ground once on the mesas, and after an incident in which the coarse-haired boy had been nudged off a cliff and been unable to push himself back, Papa Ilwain had made sure that they all wore nickelous belts. The extra weight and attraction made it so all children stayed safely on flat ground, but also made it more of an effort to climb the mesas, and while they attended school in Sedimoreal the three of them had the strongest legs in Terrai. Boula's mother teased her frequently, calling her a mountain goat.

Papa Ilwain accompanied the three of them until the end of elementary school, after which he sometimes came with them, and sometimes didn't. The three of them grew accustomed to being together and were fairly good friends, though after a couple year-flickers the other piebald grew more distant, and would walk with Boula and the coarse-haired to port but would take a different bus ferry, to a different place, and finally one day did not come back at all. There was some talk of it in Terrai but in general ungu would go traveling at around this age, especially if they were male, and really some people had been expecting it.

They finished Brassy Mesa Secondary with little event. The coarse-haired ungu had fair marks, and Boula's were excellent. Once they graduated, they were brought back individually for a meeting at the Centra.

At the time the alpha was Vivane Blunt. "Congratulations," she said warmly. "Your work has reflected well on our clan."

She had extremely long, silken hair that was braided in elaborate, powerful knots and glowed as if twisted up with beads of yellow opalite. Pliant hair. Boula was taken aback by her beauty. "Thank you," she said.

"What do you feel like pursuing now?"

"I was thinking," Boula told her, "of attending a university."

"Which one?"

"I was thinking of Upala's or Springer Artis," Boula admitted, and Vivane nodded slowly, tresses swaying, chiming gently.

"For you, Boula, I would suggest Fallish University."

"Fallish?" Boula was taken aback once more.

"Yes. Your grades are well enough. Upala's strength is history, and Springer's is science; but Fallish excels in both of these departments."

"But," Boula said hesitantly, "it's...so far away."

"If you really intend for your primary license to be Scholar," Vivane said to her, somberly, "this would be your best choice. Farness is a fact of life."

Labels: boula

Boula was all too aware of the students gathered standing and then beginning to speak all at once, clumping and flushing together in the aisles. Fallish was a popular, large university. It was not unusual for many students from all grades of Low to know each other prior entrance.

Boula pulled her bag over her shoulders, kept her head down, and started for the door, waiting patiently for people to finish their conversations. People were streaming slowly from the huge double doors, easing around each other, and she followed after, until finally she found herself squeezing beside a group of horned students. Ungu. She glanced at them slightly and they glanced back at her. They all had pale-colored, even, short hair.

Somehow they all began moving together toward the door. The other four continued their conversation, laughing, but once they reached clearer space in one of the building's major hallways they all clumped together to the side.

"I didn't realize there was another ungu here," said one. He was a male whose right horn looked as if some creature had taken a bite out of it. "I am Gia Nivus Luculo."

"I am Luserna Luculo," said another girl, sort of airily. She had the same rounded triangular raddle as Nivus. Boula fidgeted and glanced away from them at the others.

"Frux Melior Prass," said another male whose hair was pale gray. He had a striking, silken voice.

"Tonsor Salt Enval," said the final male, who twitched slightly at his announcement and stared with bared eyes.

"Terrai Boula Affries," Boula said for herself. She brushed at her hair, aware of how her own raddle was tangled up and obscured in its unruly length.

"Terrai," remarked Luserna. "That's interesting. I didn't hear that they were sending any..." Her sentence faltered.

"Students," she finished.

"I was registered late," Boula admitted, a little sharply, and Luserna's eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly.

"Well," Nivus said, "all the incoming ungu freshmen on campus are sticking together. If you like, you can come with us as well."

Labels: boula

collecting her thoughts. Fallish was so far away from pasture. She had never realized it before, that there wouldn't be any familiar flora here, or that she would not see the Centra on the horizon, as she had even in Sedimoreal.

The air was so much louder here. All day her ears and eyes had flicked back and forth, following the breezes and the sounds carried therein. It felt like all the communication in Low was being siphoned through this small university, but in all likelihood really it was just that there was so much being said here that there was never any instant of silence. Even now she could hear conversation snatching and giggling and muttering and lecturing and shouting and sobbing and laughing and --

She crammed her hooves against her ears; then took a deep breath, and stood, to shut the open window. The curtains were fluttering and she pushed them aside to access the mechanisms but before she closed it completely the curtains billowed back against her face. It felt warm and moist.

"Bou," twisted a whisper into the canal of her ear, "Bou," and Boula immediately answered, "This is she -- this is me -- Bou -- Boula!"

She ran back to her bag on the bed, thuck thuck thuck, and scrambled. Her hooves clacked against pens and pencilcases and stiff folders, and then finally she found it, a compact mirror at the bottom of her bag, a gift from her mother. She unlocked it and set it carefully on the dresser adjacent to the bed. The mirror clouded with condensation, slightly at first and then completely; Boula waited and then took a microfiber cloth and carefully wiped the mirror.

Leucan was reflected there. Her face was frozen with furrowed brows and pursed lips -- troubled.

"I'm here," Boula said loudly, and her ears felt warm, and she heard, "Oh, good! I was afraid it wouldn't reach you."

The mirror condensed again. This time when Boula wiped it away, she saw an image of Leucan smiling, relieved.

"Sister, how was your first day of university?"

Boula, who had been smiling, pursed her own lips this time. She hoped that Leucan wasn't wiping at the mirror every second. "It was..."

She trailed off. Leucan waited a moment; then said, "Oh, sister! What happened?"

Boula cleared the fogging glass again. Leucan's eyes had narrowed and her nose was wrinkled with anger.

Labels: boula

Nothing but the single remaining partim line. And it was so dim. It was so dim in here.

It was too dim.

Breezes nudged against her cheeks, chill and soft and curious, and her pulse tripled in speed. No, surely these were normal sylphs, and nothing more. Nothing due to the dimness.

She forced herself to examine the room further. The wires were indeed gone — there were crooks in the nails in the rafters as if they'd been bent out of secure position, but she couldn't see where the wires could have been taken, nor could she see any evident rips where one wire had obviously been linked to another.

She started to worry. Don't panic, she told herself. It was true that she hadn't seen Seph in a flicker of a week, or two — but that hadn't been too unusual — it was possible that this was just a coincidence, wasn't it? It was possible that there had been merely a break-in, and Seph himself hadn't yet returned to see things. It was possible. Very slightly possible.

Hope caused her to balk at calling investigators. What if Seph was just hidden further in? She would be an idiot for jumping to conclusions. Ungu were known for being suspicious and she didn't want to contribute to the stereotype.

As she approached the huge cushion, she saw that there was actually a huge mess of papers behind it, and she knelt to inspect these as well. They were all letters — huge, official-looking envelopes that had been disemboweled completely, their contents strewn into a haphazard pile. She saw the words High Prevail and also the words money owed and interest and was confused. What did this mean? Seph owed money to another government? Was he a criminal?

There was one paper that stuck out. The other papers were creamy-white or else yellow, and of standard and legal sizes, but this one was no larger than her hoof, and was like stationary. It was colored a muted green-purple and had stylized flowers along the borders, dotted lines, a small prayer in High tangles along the bottom that she couldn't read. It was oft-folded as well; she scraped it closer to her along the ground, and began to unfold it, patting it straight and rolling the knuckle of her hoof across it to flatten it more properly.

More High tangles.

Just what...

Labels: boula

There were four levels of class and Boula was one of the youngest in the first level. She was the only one of her generation there and was about half a school year behind the others. But like most of the others there, she didn't have her raddle. And she was piebald.

The Terrai school offered simple classes in arithmetic, biologic, culture, and written Low. She found it difficult to listen at first, and fidgeted constantly, tapping her feet and annoying everyone in the vicinity, prompting the teacher to snap at her and inevitably threaten to tie her ankles to the legs of her chair, at which point Boula finally settled down and tried hard to listen.

This added to this summed this. This subtracted from this equaled that. Division, multiplication, and realization were the first operations.

Biologic was easy. Things needed light to survive, and life manifested in blood and flesh and bone. Different shapes facilitated different functions. Culture was easy too — Mama Landa taught Standard Low Trade Etiquette and Dining Etiquette, mostly — and written Low too was not too difficult, being only a slightly more complicated version of pastoral sigils. Boula passed exams to graduate from the first two grades within the year, expressed desire to continue, and made it through the last two years within the next year.

Thereafter she was counseled one last time by her parents, and then brought before the Centra, where she requested schooling. For a while she and her parents feared Boula would be denied — there were many others requesting tuition and leave — but Boula's marks were excellent, and the Centra oversaw her papers for transfer into an accredited school in Sedimoreal.

They also registered Boula for a raddle.

Labels: boula