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Town of Sierudd, Rroan

The lizard wore a dissenting frown. Still, she tried to be patient and repeated, "You're asking too much."

"And you're holding out," raged the coyote trader.

The aging reptile dragged a claw across her face in exasperation. She glared at the trader, then reexamined the produce. Resulicas must have been scarce in the region, or this merchant was swindling her.

"Ah," she said holding up a claw, delaying the argument. She took stock of her own cache, consisting of a few gems and ores harvested from her mountain refuge to the south. Looking back up at the trader, she asked, "Do you even know the worth of one of these fine gems, here?"

The coyote took short appraisal of the stones. "Not enough for half a dozen of these," gesturing to the cream-colored tubers. "You're lucky to even find them in season, this time of year! Last of their kind in fact."

"Maybe in your fantasy world," the lizard accused. She produced a yellowish stone from her travel pouch. "This single topaz could buy half your lot."

The coyote scoffed at this and snatched the tawny gem to appraise. He shrugged after a brief moment, "Yeah, but what's it good for? I'm not wasting produce on baubles, crone."

The reptile curled her nails under her chin, and answered in a boisterous tone, "Why, it increases one's strength and has been known to cure a number of ailments. Some say it can even detect spoiled goods."

The coyote nodded, seeming to take the stone in a new light. Turning it over in his paw, he crooned, "I don't know ..."

The lizardess sighed, adding, "Did I mention it improves virility?" This got an immediate response from the trader. He glanced back to his store of fruits.

"Five of those and you got a deal," he stated. Smiling, the reptile produced five stones and accepted the fruits in return. With the deal struck, she nodded and headed off.

The reptile checked her newly acquired produce: six resulicas to take back on her return trip through the mountains. The still-dormant bulbs would prove useful for her apprentice. She looked back up and squinted her eyes as the sun began to break through the peaks to the south-east.

The passing minutes would track it's journey across the sands, as the morning light slowly made it's way. It would pass her by, beset the southern town wall behind her, along with it's adjacent farmland, and eventually campaign on through the rest of the desert, whereupon it would be shadowed by the night once again.

The mastery of such a cycle, the old lizard mused, truly a feat of intelligence! What is the ken of old bones and flesh compared to that of this burning disk I see, and it's never-ending race across the sky? She was slightly envious of her apprentice, then, whose discipline involved these things.

Her contemplation turned to the field around her. Exiting the town, one could see the clumps of vegetables along the southern wall and beyond, striving for what little moisture the arid sand provided. Simple rains were not enough to harvest in this desert climate. The careful distribution of water under the soil via clay pots sustained the myriad vegetables and fruit-bearing trees that lined this desert road. It was with such care that settlements like Sierudd and other refuges were sustained, kept alive.

Alive? The lizard pondered. Everyone had their reasons. These creatures keep the ones they care for, alive, with something as simple as food and water. Her sight traveled the shifting sands before her, focused on what might lay buried beneath it. How did she aim to keep the ones she cared about alive? She lifted her claws, regarding them and their unusual power.

The aging reptile forgot the fields behind her, intent on her return trip back to her own refuge. Her magic was the implement of her desire, a desire no different from those townsfolk behind her. The desire to keep alive those one holds close. One day soon I will bring you back, as you never should have left ...

With time, she would leave the desert behind, once again safe in her mountain covert she called home. The cold valley would welcome it's keeper, Josrila Zosurne: defector, griever, teacher, necromancer.

~;~;~;~;~;`~

"The Combe", Rroan

It was once said that those who attract danger set their aims too high. It was also said that to flee from danger is to desert that which gives one life. As she traveled up through familiar col, Josrila tried to decide where she fit between these two beliefs. How did danger affect her?

The old lizard considered the peaks around her. She herself had arrived at this valley decades ago, half-frozen and exhausted from the belongings she carried with her. She had brought all she could carry, all she cared for, through this very col. At the time, she had been in flight from those who would kill her for what she was, or rather, who she refused to become. She gave a silent laugh; in fleeing danger she had aimed high, literally, making the sojourn to these mountains. What had she deserted to live here, reserved and reclusive?

Her people, for one thing, no, the country, nay even, the world. The desert itself, obviously, she continued. Companionship. Youth. The heat of another body ...

Josrila quickly shook these thoughts from her mind. Those were all irrelevant to her goal, which she had decided upon long ago. The goal of returning life to those who it was heinously stolen from. Life?, she questioned. Had she fled from death only to embrace it in the end? Did it make sense to embrace death in order to give life?

Again, the old lizard expunged such thoughts. Life was complicated, and to view things in such contrast was to invite error. She reprimanded herself for dallying, the winds would pick up and it was a different story up here in the mountains.

At the crest of the col emerged a sight which never failed to take the necromancer's breath away. The valley was barren now in summer, it's jagged surfaces and craggy countenance obvious. Josrila saw past the immediate, though. After winter, the valley would hold enough water to produce a viridian landscape like none other. Hardly was there a place in all of Rroan that could boast greenery of any kind. The lizard felt thankful that she could witness such transformation every year.

The lizard's pace quickened as she approached her destination. She could start to make out the myriad openings in the valley walls, some gaping and others hidden behind rock faces. In the distance she could clearly see the headwall to the valley, at the foot of which sat the main entrance to her refuge, what she referred to as simply, "The Combe".

A smile came to her lips as she noticed a lone figure pacing before the entrance. The figure noticed her arrival and seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Josrila was still smiling when she finally came up to greet her apprentice.

The dragoness respectfully bowed. "Welcome back, mistress." She stood with her claws folded, returning her mistress' smile. After a brief pause, the dragon swiftly stepped forward and embraced Josrila in a hug. "I missed you."

The old lizard returned her apprentice's sign of affection, responding, "And I you, Satarah." Her apprentice released her, the smile never leaving her face. "When I saw you pacing there, I almost thought you were Carisi."

The dragoness blushed, "Oh, you always say that!"

It was true, though. Carisi might not have been a dragon, but she certainly had the same jade skin with dusty blue scales from her neck down. The main difference was her eyes, though. Only a dragon's could take on that violet tint, like amethysts, whereas Carisi's were a definite yellow.

"How fared your trip?" Satarah asked.

"Oh," she tried to think of a way to phrase it, "just as exciting as ever." She briefly recalled the fracas in the graveyard. It wasn't in her apprentice's interest to mention the magicians she had encountered. Such an upset would assuredly distract her from her studies."There was certainly no shortage on subjects, though," she drawled. "It made for good practice in any case ..." She then remembered the gift she had bought. "Let us head inside, I have a surprise for you." The dragon's eyes lighted up at this, and they both turned to enter The Combe.

The two moved inside, the darkness embracing them. The wind from outside ceased, to be replaced by the drip-drip-drip of water and the echoes of their own footsteps through the subterranean covert. Past a few feet, the moist cavern floor gave way to aged tile shaped from the limestone beneath their feet. Josrila had chosen her hideaway wisely, for this remote cave was at one time a crypt, kept by a people long gone. What better place for a master of the dead to practice her art than in a tomb?

Mere feet from where the tile began found the two in the great room of the crypt. Josrila weaved through the scattered slabs that were arranged around the chamber, turned right, and headed down through a corridor. Leading her apprentice down the hall, she made a left and entered one of the countless vestibules that lined the halls. Once a corpse preparation room, the necromancer had converted it into an herbarium.

Josrila placed her travel pouch onto a pedestal, while her apprentice stood behind her, waiting to see what the lizard would produce. Josrila retrieved the resulicas and, turning to face her apprentice, presented them to her.

Satarah looked puzzled. She reached to examine the bulbs and their wintry color, inquiring, "A root? I've not seen this kind before."

"Apparently, neither did the merchant who sold it to me! Although I don't think he'd care to wait for it to bloom, he would have to wait years!"

"Years? Why does it take so long?"

"The pedals it sprouts when it matures are incredibly complex. They can be used for powerful teas and macerates." Josrila chuckled, adding, "And they are beautiful ..."

Satarah juggled one in her claws and asked, "How could we grow these?"

"The soil in the valley has enough nutrients. We merely need to provide water, of which we have plenty here," she assured, referring to the lower level of the Combe, which had partially flooded years back. "More importantly, these should prove quite an exercise for you."

Satarah considered this, "Do you wish me to speed up the plant's growth using magic?"

"Were it that simple!" she exclaimed. She snatched the herb from her apprentice's claw, emphasizing, "This tuber is greedy. You see, it takes so long to bloom simply because of it's eating habits. It consumes nutrients lightning fast, wasting the vast majority of them in the process..."

The dragon chimed in, "But if someone could slow down that process ... and also speed up the growth ..." She looked to her mistress for a confirmatory nod. Satarah visibly griped, "Sounds difficult."

"Like I said," she chimed, "good exercise. Time is your specialty, child. And to think," she continued, "as a reward, you'll get to see the petals. Normally, your generation, surely not mine, would not live to see it!"

Her apprentice seemed doubtful. "I've never done something like that before. It takes great concentration just to slow down a water droplet, or accelerate it. Trying to localize both, with a plant's life in my claws ..."

The old reptile placed a comforting claw on her apprentice's shoulder. "Do not sell yourself so short, Satarah. You came to me alone and hounded, with no knowledge of magic, and look at the progress you've made! I am truly proud of you, Satarah. We have a similar eye for how magic should be used. My apprentice is nothing if not adept."

She meant every word. Satarah had survived a hellish nightmare in her youth, never resting in her flight from those that would have her undone. She had crossed the sea in her escape, eventually encountering the old necromancer in the vast desert that was Rroan. Josrila had immediate sympathy for her, for the dragoness had fled from the same group as those that hunted the aging lizard. What those nameless magicians actually sought was anyone's guess. However, one thing they made crystal clear: if you weren't with them, you were a threat. Josrila briefly recalled the magician in the graveyard. Without a shadow of a doubt, she was one of that obscure group.

The old lizard packed the herb in her travel pouch once again and directed her apprentice out the door. "Come, let us go find a suitable place to plant these. Somewhere nearby, where you can practice and concentrate?"

Her apprentice nodded, resolved in her decision to impress her mistress with her magical ability. Time magic was truly a perplexity, nonetheless. Magic was already such a diffuse condition in the world; trying to control yet another obscure element was a slow and daunting process. Learning to focus such a force took Satarah months to master. And she would master this as well.