Raja Haniya took a long drink from her glass then sunk onto her chair. She playfully bit her lip and fingered the silver balances that hung from her necklace. Then her hands landed on the table. She smiled.

"A blonde-haired merchant with silver flags waving on top of his two-master docks in the harbour. His ship has holes in it that have been roughly patched up. He says he's here to sell furs and honey wine. He has five silverlings and an Ician circle. The rent for a ship is three asses. The dockmaster rushes into the base and wants you to arrest the merchant, but he's too shocked to tell you why. But why should you head to the harbour right away?"

Sci scratched her head. These riddles came with an overload of information that one didn't need. Her first focus was to focus on the numbers. She thought out loud as it helped her find the correct solution. "Five silverlings is about two asses and a half, and an Ician circle is as much as a piece of Greenlander gold these days, which is also one ass. So there's no issue with the payment. So the wares, maybe... Silvermark's products are often of subpar quality. But one would not arrest a man for trying to sell mediocre fur." A cool breeze fluttered down, cooling down the sweat on her skin. It gave her the answer. "The Silvermarker only has northern money, not even a piece of Greenlander gold. He's desperate to sell his wares and go on land because either the Greenlanders or the Jade Islanders chased him from his waters. He's a wizard—that's why the dockmaster is so shocked."

The Raja of mathematics kept a blank stare as she turned her head towards the man with the black lines under his eyes. "Raja Tarek."

"Name the fourteen volcanoes of Scoria in ascending order of their last eruption," he said right away.

"Last eruption?" Sci repeated. Indra's geography book had shown a picture of their heights, and a detailed explanation of how the eruptions worked. Not all eruptions had been mentioned, not in the geography book at least. She counted on her fingers, remembering stories of her father sailing past Pride a few years ago. But there had been another eruption after that. "Patience, Temperance, Sloth, Charity... "She hesitated as she saw the numbers dancing in front of her eyes... "No, Greed, then Charity, Kindness, Gluttony, Lust, Envy, Chasity..." she paused. Those had been in the textbooks; the rest more recent. "Then I think Wrath, Humility, Pride, and Diligence."

"Raja Layla," Tarek said.

The woman with tiny silver scrolls dangling from her ears looked friendlier than she was, Indra had warned her. Most students failed her questions; she was merciless. Despite her brother's help and advice, Sci had long given up on the classics.

"Can you recite the twenty-fifth verse of the third chapter of A Night in Socota?" Raja Layla asked.

Sci decided to spare herself the humiliation. "No, I can't."

The Raja cocked her head. "You're not even going to try?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"You should only apologise to yourself," she said, her nose up in the air. "Raja Kader."

Raja Kader was one of the four new faces among the Rajas. She was far younger than her colleagues. Her excessive sun and moon jewellery screamed Parrot. "It's a shame you were not part of my class at Orchid Hall," she began. "I thoroughly revised the work of Raja Helle. No soldier should concern themselves with gravity and positions of the stars in the sky. All that matters is the Holy Fourteen."

So science had been replaced by religion.

"So, Scirocco, which sin tips the balance towards the Seven Hells when the soul is weighted outside the Heavenly Halls?" Raja Kader asked.

Her lips considered uttering Pride but even though she had barely any saliva left, Sci swallowed her answer. There was a reason the Queen had appointed a Raja of religion. Another test to make sure only those of the right faith enter the army. "That is a strange question," Sci said instead, discarding Nana's beliefs and going for the common stance. "One must strive to have no sins. Every sin is one too many."

The Raja looked for a moment too long at Sci; now she knew she had answered the question correctly. The woman turned to only southern Sorian in the room, the Raja of history. Zaire. Nana had mentioned him when he got appointed a few moons ago.

"Whose death marked the unofficial start of the sixth Greeno-Silvermark war, and why?" Zaire asked.

"There have only been five," Sci said, growing tired that all questions were tricks.

"Perhaps in your brother's books. Think again, Scirocco bint Harun bin Tayo. You must have heard the tale of the lost Greenlander heirs that have been found."

"So the finding of the heirs marks the unofficial start? One is called Sebastian, or something. He's the King's nephew," Sci tried. Who cared about the northerners when the southern regions couldn't even live in complete peace with each other.

Zaire held up his hands. "Raja Idris."

"What do you do when you're told to stand in moth formation?" the bored-looking Raja of military strategy asked.

Relief washed over Sci—finally something she could answer without any doubt. "You encircle the enemy, surrounding them like bandits mugging a potential target. The goal is to discourage the enemy and let them surrender without a drop of spilt blood."

"Raja Mariam."

The Raja of military tactics looked at Raja Salem. "Do we still continue?"

"She has three questions right—I don't see why not," he said.

Only three. Sci whimpered soundlessly. Her career seemed as far away as three and a half years ago—this examination too hard with the tricks and answers that could not be found in the textbooks she learnt by heart. She cursed herself for not putting more effort into the classics; she might have had four correct now.

"Alright." Raja Mariam tapped the table with her long coloured fingernails. "What kills most soldiers?"

"Lack of water," Sci said, sure of her answer.

Once more the Raja looked at Raja Salem.

"She still has three right," he said.

"What?" Sci said out loud. "My answer... it was correct," she protested.

"It wasn't. Lack of clean water is a far bigger enemy than any army in the five kingdoms," Raja Mariam said.

"It was almost right."

"Then you almost won the war," Raja Mariam said coldly. "But no, instead, you lost because your men and women are shitting and puking out their guts, falling down where they stand with nobody strong enough to bury them. Flies first eat their corpses, then the swarm of millions sweeps over the country, destroying the crops. A hundred thousand more starve to death."

Sci whimpered for real.

"We continue," Raja Salem said. "Raja Faisal."

His words of the head Raja gave Sci hope. If he didn't see any potential in her, he would have stopped the interrogation and let her walk through the left door, back onto the streets of Alburkhan. All she had to was ace her practical test.

Gods, but she was so thirsty. Sweat piling in heaps on her eyelids and her focus failing. She looked twice when the short and stubby Raja of weaponry stood up, picking up a long stick with a pointy end from the table, previously disguised by papers, feathers, and candles that didn't burn. 

Her breath stuck in her throat as the guard rolled in three sandbag puppets, one bigger than the other, crosses drawn on both the head and the heart.

"What's this?" Sci whispered.

Raja Faisal handed her the weapon. "Like Raja Kader, I made a few changes—with the blessing of my predecessor." He nodded to Raja Salem. "There comes a time in every soldier's life that one has to fight with what the land gives them. The spear is a beautiful weapon—easy to make—and useful both in short and long-range. Give it a shot from where you stand, or rather three. We'll decide afterwards."

The spear felt foreign in Sci's hands. Far heavier than the stars and spikes she had practised with. She struggled to find the right grip, the right aim, the right balance. This wasn't a beautiful weapon; it was a nightmare.

She flung it at the biggest target, a haphazardly guess, a hope that the point would pierce the puppet's heart. The spear flew into a straight line, hit the cross on the chest, then clattered to the floor.

"I've wounded the enemy now," she explained. "Tore them open from the heart to the gut. They'll choke on their blood before the heart stops or the abdomen fills with corruption."

She retrieved her weapon, her footsteps heavy on the ornate carpet. Her head pounded, a cry not far away. 

Her next target was the smallest puppet, the biggest chance of failure. At least, she would have that over with. As she hurled the spear, a muscle in her shoulder cramped.

The spear arched upwards, too fast to land anywhere near the chest or the head. The point stuck into the puppet's knee for three long heartbeats. Then the weapon crashed down, leaving the sandbag wobbling on its wooden feet.

"Now my enemy can't walk anymore. I need to be careful when retrieving my weapon," she said more calmly than she actually was. 

Before picking up the weapon, she slammed the puppet to the ground.

"This is an exercise in long-distance," Raja Faisal reprimanded her.

She walked back to the spot next to the Raja of weaponry. Three and a half years flashed before her eyes. The frustration of not being able to remember who had said what in the countless wars her country had seen, the rise and fall of the Jade Islands, the countless rivers running through The Greenlands. The conversion of Silvermark silverlings, and the discoveries of the Ician shamans with regards to the mining of iron. Three and a half years boiling down to a single moment nobody had been able to prepare her for.

Scirocco

The wind whispered through the window; a voice she hadn't heard in six years.

She looked up, eight pairs of eyes staring from the table. 

Raja Faisal sighed.

Scirocco

Her scar itched, salty sweat mingling with the blemishes of her skin. Six years since she had burnt, since she had promised to hide who she was and to stop listening to the wind. But she wanted to be a soldier so badly. She had worked so hard; the procedure unfair. Could she not consider the unthinkable? To allow a little help?

She focussed on the last target, bigger than the last one but not as tall as the first one. She imagined it to be a real enemy. A tall Silvermarker with the head of a bear and the body of a wolf. An abomination.

Scirocco

She breathed out as a breeze blew through her clothes. The spear an extension of her arm. She threw along with the passing air, the weapon's flight shining bright in silver sparks. 

The point went through the puppet, ruptured the bag. Sand fell out in gulps that splashed to the ground.

Her enemy fell.

Happiness overwhelmed her. She smiled like she hadn't smiled in years, a grin like a jackal in the night. She had done it; had killed with a weapon she had never used before.

Then she turned to the table, and she realised what she had done. She had used magic, a crime punishable by death. How much had they seen? What was the colour of her hair? The smile disappeared from her face as panic raced through her veins.

Raja Salem rested his head on the tips of his folded hands.

"Scirocco bint Harun bin Tayo," he began, "What you have achieved in cooperation with your brother is impressive. I see a bright young woman who picks her battles, who is at times lazy but honest about it. You fight for what you believe in but aren't afraid to admit when you are wrong. As head of the Nine, I can forgive you for not remembering the exact order in which the volcanoes erupted or to refuse to recite a story as dull as a Night in Socota. My soldiers don't need to know Lord Brandon's death was the one that marked the unofficial start of the war up north. But they need to know how to fight and persist. I am not entirely sure what I saw and felt there, near the end..."

"Raja Salem," Raja Kader hissed. "You cannot be serious."

"She shouldn't be allowed in. She shouldn't be allowed anywhere near us," Raja Tarek added.

He raised his hand at them. "I'm the head of the body. I have the final say when she has four out of eight... And it's been a long and hot day. We all start seeing things that aren't really there, don't we, Scirocco bint Harun bin Tayo?"

"Yes, Raja." Sci nodded. "Nothing happened. I just killed the puppet."

"Then you may walk through the right door. Welcome to the Queen's army, Scirocco."

She skipped out, relieved from all tension. Tears of happiness forming in her eyes. This... this had been the last time she had used her magic. 

Never again. Never ever again.