[Galadria]

Don't think it will go into NWN, L33, but suggestions appreciated. Today's instalment:

VII
Sefa found the next few days intoxicating. She roamed the( to her) huge house, peeking into bedrooms, study, laboratory, kitchen. She made friends with the cook, Lania. She had never been as full, warm, and free of anxiety since she could remember. She thought back to her friends in the street with pity. What if one of them had picked up the old paper instead of her. Would they be here instead of her? She made a mental promise to get some of her newfound gold, now bulking in a belt pouch, to them. Winter was coming! She shivered, remembering the neverending struggle to keep warm with inadequate clothing and poor shelter.
She had no inkling of the trace of magical talent that these people sensed in her. The first hint of their belief in it came from Attalus,who, after having met her, was heard to groan, mock-suffering to Baron Odo, "Another mage female in the house. We are far outnumbered , old man." Odo, for his part saw a slender girl with brown hair, fluffy from its recent washing, and hazel eyes. Rather going to be pretty, he thought lazily, and ruffled her hair, making her flinch at first, until she realised that he meant no harm.
He laughed, his quick perceptions noting the movement. "Good reflexes you've got. You must meet my wife. She'll have plenty of questions for you." He winked at Attalus, who knew well of Cythera's social preoccupations. Sefa was just confused. She had already met the little blonde, who had treated her very kindly indeed.
That evening she crept into Galadria's study. The mage was there, peering intently at, Sefa was pleased to note, her scroll. She coughed softly, and Galadria looked up. She smiled at seeing the young girl, looking much better when clean and dressed in some of Noemi's castoffs. "Well, Sefa, things seem to be looking up for you. Have you made yourself at home?"
"Yes, my Lady, everyone has been very kind. Have you found out what my...I mean your new scroll means?" Sefa said carefully.
Galadria wrinkled her smooth forehead, revealing, in the process, a triangular scar on her temple. Sefa had seen plenty of scars, but somehow this one made her stomach sink. She could not have recognized Smaractus' handiwork.
"It seems to be a blessing, though a very peculiar kind,"said the mage in reply. "It is in an archaic version of a southern tongue, and I cannot imagine what it was doing in the street. Perhaps it was dropped by a traveler or a collecter of scrolls." She looked hard at Sefa, who was feeling disappointed. In her world, a blessing was something conferred by a passing priest instead of a coin, and very little good had they ever done her.
"Sefa, sit down," she went on. "Have you wondered why we have taken you in?"
Sefa had thought about that, putting it off in fear that they should realize that they had made a mistake and put her back out on the streets.
She swallowed. "Yes, my Lady, I have wondered. What do you want with me?"
Galadria smiled her wonderful smile at her. "All of my fellow mages have examined you, secretly." Sefa blushed. What did that involve? The dark woman guessed her incomprehension. "They all agree that you have the talent for magic. How much, we cannot know, yet. But there is one thing on which we all agree: it shouldn't be wasted in a life in the gutter."
"It is our responsibility," Galadria went on, " not only to protect and nurture Magic, whereever it lies. But, also, we must seek to make sure it is not misused, as it too often is. And, we have decided that a magic-user who spends a poor, neglected life on the streets is more likely to turn bitter and become evil, using magic to subjugate and brutalise others. So, my dear Sefa, I," Sefa noticed the change in reference, "have decided that it is my duty to nurture you. Would you like to live here and learn magic?"
"My Lady," Sefa gasped. It was more than she had ever dreamed. "Yes, yes, a thousand times ,yes." She went on her knees, then, burying her face in black silk robes, and sobbing in pure joy.
Galadria stroked her hair for a while, murmuring soothing things. Then, when the girl had finally lifted her tear-soaked face to her, she patted her lightly on the cheek. "Run along, now," she said kindlily. "I've got a thousand things to do." She stood up briskly.
Sefa stood also. "I hate to mention it now, my Lady, when you've been so good, but I came here to ask a question."
"What question, Sefa?" said the mage absently, her mind already into food supplies.
"Sir Attalus, Lady, he said you were going on a long trip. What will I do while you are gone?"
Galadria looked up with a slight frown. "Why, stay here surely. It will be safe, and Lania will look after you while we are gone." She looked back to her desk, the question already forgotten.
"My Lady," Sefa said stubbornly, "I want to go with you."
The dark-haired woman looked even more annoyed, though the hoped-for smile seemed threatening to break through. "Sefa, you are a city child, " she began.
"No, my Lady," Sefa interrupted, scarcely believing her own temerity., " I'm not a child the way you mean. I'm tough, I can use a knife..."
"You mean this?" Galadria gingerly picked up a short, battered blade with a red handle. She dangled it in front of Sefa's face. Sefa had wondered where it had gone. It had disappeared with her clothes, Noemi having no mind to leave an unknown in the house with a dagger, even a small one. Tears started again in Sefa's eyes, but she controlled them. The knife had been her dearest possession, her protector. "I can use it, my Lady. And Lady Noemi told me that you've used a dagger."
Galadria began to feel trapped. "I would feel responsible for you. What if you were hurt or killed?"
Sefa stood as tall as she could. "Lady, if I die in your service, I would be doing something a thousand times better than if I lived to be old on the streets."