I stopped before a tall black gate, dismounting as the guard meandered over.

"Name and business?" he asked lazily, grounding his spear and giving my scholar's garb a once-over.

"Ah, yes. I'm Flynn Rickard, here to kill the Sorceress." I fumbled a thin sheaf of papers from my belt, even as my eyes were drawn to the soaring white tower behind.

"Hmm." He barely glanced at my identification before nodding. "Alright, seems fine." He waved, and the gate opened slowly. "Go on back, she should be in the south garden. Look for her by the pond." He passed back the papers and I let him take my horse.

"Thanks." I nodded and stepped onto the tower grounds.

The cicadas were singing in the trees and the sun threw dapples of shade across narrow stone paths. I wound my way through meticulously plotted flowerbeds, a lacework of blooms and topiary stitched into clever knots and winding patterns. A magical touch was obvious, there with blue roses, here with snowdrops in late summer. I felt the cool breeze off the pond before I spotted it, a refreshing whisper of moisture caressing the heat of the ride from my hair.

I walked past a thicket of flowering cherries, and found the Sorceress reclining in the shade of a stone gazebo, a pair of crystal goblets floating by a sweating flagon and a small notebook. magic, I thought.

She was the picture of indolence, wrapped in a loose robe, dark skin stark against the marble. Her eyes were closed and she was humming a catchy tune, but she sat up and waved at hearing my steps.

"Over here!" She smiled, and the crows-feet around her eyes folded into laugh-lines. "Ah, well-met at midday, dear assassin. Come, sit, drink!" The decanter poured me a glass of wine.

"Hello." I sat, shifting uncomfortably. "Um, well-met, Sorceress."

"Please, call me Rose." She leaned forwards, eyebrows crinkling as she took in my plain tunic and square cap. "A scholar? How strange. I was sure someone would try to kill me today."

"Ah, well, um."

"Or is it a disguise?" She smiled and clapped her hands. "Who sent you? Zaftig? Vermillion? Videl? I really burned Videl good, last time I saw him." She laughed girlishly, tossing her long curls over her shoulders and for a moment, didn't look a day older than eighteen.

"No, I'm really a scholar."

"Ah." She pouted for a moment, but brightened up. "Then you have some time?" She spun the notebook, and slid it across the table to me. "Indulge an old woman, read me a sonnet or two before sending me off."

"I can't help but feel you're teasing me." I frowned.

She laughed at my consternation, but shrugged. "Very well then, what have you got for me?"

I reached into my pouch, pulling out a plain dagger and setting it on the table. She stared at it for a long moment, picking it up and unsheathing the blade. She pricked a finger, expression shifting from curiosity to disgust.

"Simple steel?" She frowned. "You could have at least used meteorite. I guess enchantments are a bit much to ask, but really." Annoyance crept into her voice. "Even a cedar stake might have been better." She shrugged, and parted her robe over her heart.

"Hold, just a moment!" I produced a pencil and paper, but she barely paused a second before casually driving the blade home. It pierced her dark skin easily, coming out smeared in gore. She grimaced and tossed it on the table, flecking her notebook with blood. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, and stood.

"You," she pronounced, "are boring! And you didn't even taste the wine!" She stamped a foot in frustration. "Begone."

"But!" I looked up from a hastily scribbled line of notes.

"Out, out!" She pointed and waved, face darkening further. A chill touched me at the look in her eyes, and I scooped up the dagger and spun, scurrying away.

---

I sat in my study, the low glow of the candles filling the room with soft light. The dagger sat on a tray to my left, pages of observations accumulating as it clotted and dried. I sighed, rubbing my eyes and trying to massage the crick out of my neck. My gaze wandered over the neatly organized workbench, reagents and chemicals marshaled in rows, tools and apparatus standing ready. All around, sheaf after sheaf of notes were meticulously filed, organized by date and subject into drawers, cabinets, and binders. The order gave me a momentary pleasure, suffusing me with satisfaction. One day, perhaps, all the world could be so cleverly set straight, boxed and indexed and understood.

A knock on the door broke my reverie, annoyance redoubling the stiffness in my neck and starting it towards becoming a headache.

"Come!" I called.

"Flynn!" A tall, bearded man tossed the door open, striding casually in. His gaze flicked over the room, and my annoyance rose a notch at the careless incomprehension in his gaze. "So, my boy, what have you got for me?"

"Ah, Master Pallas." I shrugged, noncommittal. "Well, that is to say, you see—"

"Come now, Flynn." My patron grinned greasily. "Out with it! What secrets of the universe have you uncovered, what arcane secrets have you unlocked?"

"I've told you, again and again, it doesn't work like that." I rubbed my eyes.

"Ah, yes. Your 'scientific method'." He laughed. "Wait and see, you say. Wait and see."

"Yes." I nodded. "Please, give me some time. There's nothing in the world which can't be understood, if we only take the time to look and think."

"So you say." Pallas shrugged. "Well, who am I to correct a scholar?" He laughed again. "But don't forget, Flynn, that I pay you for results, not research. If you can kill the Sorceress, you'll be famous." He grinned, and stepped back toward the door. "You'll be famous, and me? I'll be rich." He laughed his way back down the hall.

I groaned, and turned back to my notes.

---

"You know, I don't think I got your name last time." The Sorceress was sitting a library when I next tried to kill her, surrounded by stacks of books. I skimmed a few titles as I walked in, but couldn't recognize the languages.

"It's Flynn, my lady." She didn't offer me a chair, so I stood awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Flynn. Well, I hope you've got something more interesting today."

"I was thinking poison?" I opened my satchel, pulling out a small case and flipping the catch. I set it before her, an array of bottles and tubes fanning as it opened.

"Better." She frowned, and waved me into a seat. "But for this, we'll need something to drink." She tapped the table and refreshments materialized, mist seeping from the floor and coalescing into a set of decanters and cups. "Now, let's see…" She scanned the box. "Hemlock, arsenic, mandrake, belladonna - oh, that one's fun - deathscap, monkshood, devils trumpet, Hmm?" She picked up a vial filled with bluish liquid. "And this one?"

"Cyonic acid - highly toxic, supposedly painless."

"Well, sounds good to me. Pick your poison?" She waved at the tray of liquor. I blinked, but eventually selected something amber.

"Whiskey!" She grinned and picked two small glasses, pouring each of us a jot. She popped the top off the poison, and up-ended it into hers. "You have good taste - I gambled with a giant for this, a bouquet of stars against a dozen bottles. It's flavored with tears squeezed from basalt, you know."

"I didn't." I sipped the drink cautiously. It tasted like hard liquor to me. She knocked hers back in one motion. We sat in silence a minute.

"So, how long should this take?" She frowned.

"Um, no longer than an hour."

"Perhaps you'll indulge me this time?" She offered me a volume.

"Ah, uh…" I looked at the neat script. "More poetry?"

"Surely such a learned man as you can read?"

"That's, well…" I coughed to clear my throat, and surrendered.

---

I stumbled back into my apartments as the sun was going down, glad my horse had a better sense of direction than me.

For a moment I simply stood in the doorway, soaking in the aura of order and care that filled my workshop. The Sorceress had plied me with liquor, asking me about the city and the news, laughing at my fumbling attempts to string coherent narratives from the infighting of the nobles and the petty gossip the swirled around. I hadn't even realized it was getting dark until I'd asked after her health. She had simply shrugged, flipped the half-depleted poison case closed, and slid it back across the table.

"By the stars, man!" I was jerked back to the present by Pallas' jovial greeting. He was sitting in my chair, feet propped up on my desk. I gritted my teeth at seeing my papers shuffled to the side for his fine boots. "You're drunk!"

"A touch." I steadied myself against the door frame.

"How goes the 'research'?" He smirked.

"She is, apparently, immune to any classic poison and every new one I brought."

"Well." He frowned. "Those weren't cheap, you know."

"I know, I know." I waved him aside. "We may need to try magic next."

"Hmph." His face darkened at that, but I swayed past him, heading for my bedroom.

"I'm done for the day. Go dangle someone else from your purse-strings."

"Hah!" He laughed at that, but let me go.

---

"Sorceress?"

"Please, call me Rose." This time I had been directed to one of her workshops, a delicate maze of crystal and runes. I marveled at the wealth on display, wondering how many centuries she had spent collecting knowledge, power.

"Of course." I hung my bag at the door, bringing only a sliver of gold with me. She laid down a pair of tongs, leaving a pot of molten glass over a burner and pushing goggles back from her face.

"Ah, a soul-stealer?" She took the small artifact from me, and raised it to her eyes. "Sorry, but someone tried this last year." She shrugged, and drove it through her temple. A spark danced through her eyes, and she pulled it out, wiping it on a sleeve and handing it back. "Tickles, but these have been around a while." She turned back to her project.

"Um." I paused as she picked up her tools again.

"Ask, ask." She pulled a thread of glass as she spoke. "I just can't leave this sit, you know."

"Right. Uh, I was wondering, how often…?"

"Oh, someone tries to kill me every few months." She shrugged. "Most are less polite than you. They seem to think sneaking around is the way to go, even though I've left the guards specific instructions to allow anyone through who wants to try. It's fine as long as they don't steal my stuff, but I was picking teeth out of the balustrade for days after one thought she could… well." She sighed. "I hoped being up-front would make things easier on all of us. I mean, there's no reason to not be polite."

"How many enemies do you have?"

"I don't know if I'd call them all enemies." She deftly spiraled a tube into a condenser. "Sure, I've made a few, but just being who I am has made me a target. I mean, you're here for the reward, right?"

"Well—"

"No need to be shy!" She laughed like chimes. "It's substantial, I know. I think the king just doesn't like the idea of someone who doesn't answer to him living here. The rich are jealous, the powerful are bitter, the mercenaries and assassins act like it's a game. It keeps things lively, at least."

"No, that's really not it." I shook my head. "Well, not all of it. I mean, my patron allowed me to try because there's a profit there, but I really only wanted to, to understand."

"Understand?" She looked up sharply. "Ah, a scholar to the bone."

"Maybe." I frowned. "I think there's nothing in life—"

"That can't be understood if we're only willing to look and think." She grinned, nodding. "Of course. Themocritas would be proud. Are you an alchemist, then?"

"A scientist," I answered meekly. "Perhaps a natural philosopher."

"You study magic?"

"No." I frowned. "Well, not yet, not as such. The 'rules' and 'ways'… alchemy, at least, is consistent."

"Hmm." She turned her burner off, and removed her gloves. "To each their own, I suppose. See you next week?"

"Mmm." I nodded goodbye, and left.

---

"Flynn, it's been months now." Pallas leaned over my desk, beard bristling. "Surely you've got something to show?"

"Oh, lots." I fanned my notes. "Lots of things, that is, which do nothing."

His dark eyes glittered, and I shrank back.

"Don't forget who feeds you, Flynn."

---

"You're not even losing weight." I frowned at the scale.

"Oh, I've fasted before." Rose sipped a glass of iced water. "Once I was trapped under a glacier—"

---

I sat, face in my hands, trying to draw strength from the order and consistency surrounding me.

"Look, Pallas, she seems to defy every law I know of. Sure, it's possible to hurt her, but as soon as I look away, the effects are gone. Magic does nothing, or simply refuses to act."

Pallas frowned, and placed a glass of water and a plate of dry bread on my desk.

---

"I must say, at least you're not being boring." Rose slipped the silver manacles onto her wrists. I sat cross-legged on a nearby crate. The rain pounded down, pouring off the top of the tower. There was a snap and a thunderclap, and her curly hair frizzed slightly. "Although lighting, well, it's not like a Sorceress hasn't felt lighting before. But the silver was a good idea!" She pried the molten cuff off. "It got past my personal defenses, at least. Better luck next time!"

---

"Haaaaah." I slumped in my chair. The files and apparatus surrounding me seemed to lean in towards my sigh, pressing on me with heavy expectations. Not much time, they seemed to say. Pallas wants results.

---

"Well, you can try…" She gazed at the stump of her finger curiously. "But…"

I looked up from the digit I was holding, and felt my fingers close on empty air.

"Ah." She waved her hand, now whole again, and shrugged. "No, I guess you can't take it home."

---

"Flynn!" Pallas threw the door open, surprising me. I dropped a sheaf of notes, grimacing as they fluttered to the floor.

"Yes?" I looked up wearily, too lethargic for proper annoyance.

"This is it," my patron grated. "I'm done with you and your fooling. You have one more week, and that's it!"

"What?" I sat for a second, face blank. "No! Please, just a little more time!"

"I've given you a little more time, again and again! Have you even been trying?"

"Of course!" I jumped up, indignant. "This is one of the greatest mysteries in the world! What else would I be doing?"

"Stalling, perhaps?" He sneered. "You and your laws and experiments, rules and tests! It's almost like you don't even want to kill her!"

"Well, I—"

"Hah." He strode up to my desk, and leaned in. "Let me guess. You've been looking for rules and reasons, instead of something that works!"

"If she's ever going to be killed, we need to understand how she—"

"No, Flynn." He cut me off with a chop of his hand. "No, we don't. It's not important why she lives. It only matters how she dies. Unless, of course, you're not really interested in killing her."

"Again with that?"

"Is it such a leap?" Pallas scowled. "I'm paying you, Flynn, for her death. But perhaps... perhaps you want more? You claim to eschew magic, but is that really the case?"

"Pallas, I…" I trailed off, stunned. "You think I'm using you?"

"Aren't you?" He scoffed. "Of course you are. But I'm using you too. My only question is, are you the tool I asked for? If not, I'll toss you aside. See how well you do, penniless on the streets. One more week, Flynn. If you can't kill her in a week, you'll either do as I say and give up on this, or you'll find a new patron."

"…As you say."

Pallas stomped out, slamming the door. I sat, watching my candle burn until it guttered into darkness. The order and structure surrounding me felt like bindings of iron and glass, tying me down, holding me in blackness. I finally rose with a sigh, and crawled into bed for an uneasy night's rest.

---

"Flynn, you're early." Rose was painting today, a selection of brushes laid out by a canvass in the garden. "What have you got for me?"

"Um, well." I slowly lowered myself to the grass by her. "Actually, I, uh, I was wondering if you would answer a few questions."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "No-one's tried talking me to death yet, I guess."

"Ah, no, I—"

"Don't worry about it." She laughed, waving my confusion away. "It's fine, it's fine. What were you wondering?"

"I, well." I thought a moment. "Perhaps this is impudent, but I hoped you could tell me, well, how you do it."

"Hmmm." Her eyebrows crinkled as she lay a few careful brushstrokes on her artwork. "That's logical, at least. But I'm not sure if I can answer."

"Oh." I sighed. "I understand. It's not like you want—"

"No, no." She shook her head. "Sure, you're right, I don't want to die. But to be honest, I'm not really sure how I do it myself." She laid her palette down, and stretched languidly in the sun.

"You don't… know?" I blinked, floored by the idea. "But you're the most powerful Sorceress, the oldest living mage, the strongest witch!"

"Oh, sure." She accepted the compliments easily. "But it's not like I'm all-knowing." She frowned thoughtfully. "Though I do have a guess." She leaned back, tucking her knees under her. "When I was very young, perhaps ten or twelve, I visited a carnival." She grinned. "Wonderful things, carnivals. You can always tell a powerful wizard from a pretender by taking them to a carnival. The ones who really understand, who truly get it, will laugh and sing and go stare at the dancing bears and watch the fireworks with glee and hum along with the calliope and stand in line for caramel apples, and the ones who are going to fade in a few decades, well, they turn up their noses and strut and pretend getting a little mud on their shoes will lessen their worth.

"Not that I knew that at the time. It was a small affair, the sort which travels from village to village and scraping by with fire-breathing and juggling. But there was at least one real magician there. Master Cosmo. Oh, blessed Master Cosmo! He was, I think, the start of it all.

"There I stood, next to the ring, where they'd let children in for a pittance. I was yelling and cheering with the best as the acrobats swung overhead, not so very far up in the high-top, when a crash of cannons and a clarion call brought in The Wizard. He strode from the back, wreathed in stars, his hair crackling and swaying with an ethereal breeze. He called up illusions for us, lifted boulders, drank fire. And for a reason I'll never understand, I caught his attention.

"He walked over to us, the stars swirling around him, and leaned over the edge of the ring to hear our cheering. He pointed at me, and a star jumped from his fingertip to circle my head. And he yelled 'LIVE FOREVER!' at the top of his voice.

"And I thought that was a pretty fine idea.

"So ever since, I've tried to live as that twelve-year-old would have liked, centering myself in that no matter what swirls around me. I watch the rain, I pick flowers, I drink lemonade whenever I'm thirsty, I buy food from street vendors, I go to carnivals and I laugh at the stars. And it's made me into a Sorceress." She stared off into the distance for a long minute.

"And that's…" My voice was weak. "That's it?"

"Aye, probably." She shrugged and picked up her palette.

"That's ridiculous."

"Isn't it, though?" She laughed, full-throated and rich. "But that's magic for you. You can catalog the world, write out its laws and neatly index all of its pieces, and it still manages to surprise you, if you let it."

"I don't think I can deal with that." I flopped down on the grass, mind whirling.

"If you think you can't, then you can't." She painted in silence for a few minutes. "Well, even if you can't, I hope you'll come by and see me off tomorrow. I'm planning to visit the north forests, to attend a parliament of owls. Should be interesting."

"Ah. Of course." I nodded weakly. "I'll be here."

---

I sat at my workbench, papers arrayed around me. I was carefully sorting and stacking, stacking and sorting, collating notes and experiments by date and method and effect. As I worked, a pall hung over me. Had all this been pointless? I'd always told myself that the world could be ordered, understood, examined and explained, if only one was willing to look and think. But where had it gotten me?

I sighed, glancing around my room. The careful sequencing, meticulous ordering that I'd undertaken, the rigorous testing and looking and thinking I'd done had left me here, sitting amidst dry paper and not a bit closer to really knowing what I was doing, let alone why.

"Flynn!"

I jumped as my door flew open, and my patron stepped in.

"Pallas?" I peered at him a moment. "You seem cheerful. I was just about to come find you."

"Oh?" He smirked. "Giving up?"

"Yes, actually." I sighed. "Maybe some things in the world just aren't meant to be understood, after all."

"I could have told you that!" He clapped me on the shoulder, laughing. "But hey, Flynn, look what I've gotten." He pulled out a purse, popping the catch and tipping a green knot onto his palm.

"That's…" I paused, searching my mind. "A sleeping spindle?"

"Yes, yes!" He passed it to me, careful of the points. "One poke with this, and they're out! Well, I don't know if it counts as 'dead' entirely, but it's worth a try."

"Could be." I pondered for a moment, wondering. I'd tried poison and magic before, of course, and— no, that wasn't important. "But she's leaving. Today, actually. I was going to see her off, right after… right after finding you."

"Good! One last shot, then." He tossed me the purse. "One last shot, and then you'll be done with it, right?"

"…Right." I dropped the sleeping spindle into the bag, snapping it closed. "Yeah."

---

"Oh, Flynn, you're just in time." The guard nodded as I reached the gate. "Better hurry, though." He pointed to the top of the tower, where an airship bobbed. "She's about ready."

"Right!" I leaped down and dashed inside.

I was out of breath by the time I reached the top of the stairs.

"Rose!" I called, stumbling through the door.

"Here!" she called back, waving from the deck of the ship. "Come aboard, come take a look!"

I looked at the ladder and felt my legs ache, but started up once more.

"Ooof." I rolled onto the deck of the ship, laying prone for a moment. She looked down at me and laughed, dark eyes sparkling.

"Come on, Flynn, let me show you around." She pulled me up by one hand, and ushered me about, pointing and gushing.

"It's not magic?" I asked, when I finally managed to get a word in edgewise.

"Rather, it's not all magic." She grinned. "The heater is magic, the balloon is silk."

"Huh." I stood, staring up.

"Something on your mind?" She turned to watch me.

"I, well…" For a moment I could see her, through her enthusiasm and excitement, as a child. Twelve again, dancing around the airship, simply overjoyed to be near such a thing, simply happy at the wonder of it. I felt the weapon heavy in my pocket, and the words slipped away.

"Come on, Flynn."

"…take me with you?" I blinked, surprised by my own words.

"If you like." She shrugged easily. "But why?"

"I've never been on an airship," I answered honestly. She grinned, but I continued. "And, well, ever since I looked up at one when I was very young - ten or twelve, perhaps, and asked my Da 'How does that work?' and he answered 'I don't know, but maybe you can find out', I've wanted to try."

"But surely you know?" Her mouth quirked.

"Oh, yes." I grinned, and leaned on the rail. "But maybe that twelve-year-old me, maybe he would like to ask some more 'hows' and 'whys', to things I've given up questioning."

"You think so?"

"I do."

"Aright!" Rose clapped her hands. The engine started with a rattle, the lines loosed with a crack, and I nearly lurched to the floor as we started to move. She caught my shoulder and steadied me, laughing. "If that's what you think, maybe we'll make a wizard out of you yet."