Chapter 2: Nimbys, Part 2

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"What's your wager? Runaway brat, curious miss or genuine girl?"

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"What's your wager? Runaway brat, curious miss or genuine girl?"

Lyrai looked up from studying the depressing duty roster. He was surrounded by grumbling Riders equally dismayed over their new assignment. Merry Midwinter, everyone. "Pardon?"

"We have another one." Stirla nodded across the busy room, eyes bright and mischievous.

After five years together – from their first day at Aquila through to their current officer training – Lyrai had learned to be wary of that sparkle. Still, a little amusement might ease the sting of being quartered in Nimbys until the following autumn.

He turned to face the cluttered front desk just as the girl reached it. Slender and tall, her dark brown hair was pulled tightly back, accentuating the sharp features of her sun-bronzed face. She wasn't pretty, but had big, pale eyes that glanced frequently at the Riders. Seeing the silver flashes on his and Stirla's shoulder, she nodded respectfully before turning to the clerk at the desk.

"Strange little thing," Stirla murmured. "So, which is it?"

Lyrai waved him to silence, wanting to listen and far too wise to wager with him. Even when he wasn't cheating, Stirla's luck was just too good to trust.

"Enrolment is closed." Brenai the clerk had fussy ways, but he was the best administrator in Nimbys. Lyrai smiled, wondering how the girl would react to his sharp manner.

"I know, but I was unable to come until this morning." Her voice was polite and clear, softened with a hint of country burr. Well born, but not local. "Since classes don't begin for another five days, I hoped I might still be admitted."

Her friendly smile didn't sway Brenai one bit. He peered over his glasses and sniffed. "Enrolment closed yesterday. Rift Riders live or die by their punctuality. We make no exceptions." The gathered Riders snickered. In theory what Brenai said was true, but in practise...

Irritation flashed over the girl's face. Instead of unleashing it, though, she took a deep breath. "I was unable to come before, sir."

"Try again next year," Brenai advised brusquely, and with more than a touch of disapproval. As well he might. The clerk had been particularly vocal in opposing the recent changes to the Flying Corps.

The girl took another deep breath and forced a smile. "If I had another choice, sir, I would not ask," she said, a hint of desperation creeping in. "It's Midwinter."

Brenai's eyebrows drew together and he pushed his papers aside, squaring the corners neatly as if the haphazard piles behind him did not exist. "I hesitate to be rude, miss, but what's the hurry? The proclamation will still apply next year. It's a five-year trial. There's no rush and there will be plenty of miryhls left, if you want this badly enough. The thinking time will do you good. This isn't an easy life. Take a little Midwinter advice and leave it another year."

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