In a closed off room in Morgy’s warehouse, the light from a few burnished lanterns illuminated the scene.

Baneck gripped the handle of Tungstil, eager to unsheathe the blade.

“I still can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” Honee said with flat effect, as she stood beside a long table.

“I can’t believe you’d do any different,” Nepta replied.

Honee untied her vest’s strings, and slowly slipped it down, exposing her back.

“Oi!  Turn your head, old man,” she said to Torsar.

“Eh?”

“ ‘Eh?’, you ask.  Don’t look at me while I’m getting undressed.”

“Hmph.  This from a girl whose 12 year old self I had to rub down with cala-root oil, after she and her three friends walked into a swarm of spec-gnats.”

“This ‘self’ is a mature woman now, and not for you to see.”

“From where I’m standing, there’s not much – ”

“One more word – !”

“Honee!  Enough!” Amilyn suddenly snapped from the side.  “And put the knife away.”

“Baneck, Torsar!” she sharply said, even though Baneck had not said anything.  “Turn around.”

When they had done so, Honee laid down on the table, her bare back facing upward, and her arms folded at her sides.

On her right, Torsar held the completed frost-steel plate, Troujur, gleaming like silver, but with a deep quality like gold.  Its many beautifully etched, multi-layered lines and designs caught the light most alluringly.

“It is a most impressive piece,” Nepta said.

“It’s not just for decoration,” Baneck answered, drawing Tungstil, and coming to stand on Honee’s left side.

Torsar gently laid Troujur on her back, just below the middle of her neck.

Amilyn stood at the head of the table, and held Honee’s hand.

“Just as long as this magic works better than your attacks against Felldrake.  Do this quick, before I change my mind.”

Baneck touched the tip of Tungstil to one rune on Troujur, and spoke his incantation.

A faint, silvery light emanated from the surfaces of the plate, above and below, and Honee squinted her eyes.

“Ouch.”

The glow quickly faded.

Amilyn cocked an eyebrow.  “Is that it?”

“It pinched,” Honee replied.

Torsar lifted Troujur away, and Baneck and Amilyn stared at Honee’s back.  Although there was no burn, a smoke-like curl rose up from the scout’s skin, where her new Mark decorated her upper back and shoulder blades.

“You’re a Friend of Wintermore now,” Baneck proudly said, looking at his handiwork.

Nepta came up behind him, and gingerly touched Honee’s skin.  The graceful design was made of the same bluish lines that made up Baneck’s own Mark.  But the shapes were different.

Honee sat up.  Torsar and Baneck turned around again, as Amilyn gave her a highly polished metal mirror, and Lynnia held another one behind, letting her see it for herself.

“Is it supposed to look like that?”

Baneck stood behind her, studying it.  “I don’t know.  I’ve never done this before.”

“It’s really quite beautiful,” Lynnia said.  “Better than any ruffian’s tattoo in a seaside port.”

Honee tied her vest back in place.  “It doesn’t even itch.”

“What’s her Wintermore name?” Lynnia asked.

“That’s only for me, her and Wintermore to know,” Baneck said, as he walked over to the corner of the room, where he lifted a couple of shiny things out of a bag.

“Sit back up on the table.”

After she had done so, he presented the twin crafted frost-steel items to her in front of everyone.  “May I present, Booters.”  And he put the brilliant, rune-encrusted shin-bracers on her lower legs.

She slid down, and hopped on the balls of her feet a couple of times.  Then she snapped a quick kick in the air, followed by a spinning roundhouse that whooshed over Baneck’s head, for which he did not flinch in the slightest.

“They don’t feel heavy at all.”

“Say the word.”

“Niven.”

She took a step, then another, and another; gradually climbing higher, walking upward on the air as if it were secure stone steps.  When she was higher than the top of Torsar’s head, she paused.

Not able to resist, he swept a hand under her feet.  There was indeed nothing there.

She gave a forward hop, dropping a couple feet, and holding stationary in mid-air again.

“It’s intuitive!” she squealed, like a child who had just received the best toy ever, and started walking higher, then lower, wherever she willed.  Amilyn and Lynnia watched, smiling, and Torsar gave a low whistle.

“It works!” she gushed.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Baneck replied.

Honee took some running steps to and fro under the rafters.  Nepta gave Baneck a congratulatory pat on the shoulder.

“When will the enchantment wear off?” Amilyn asked.

“When she says the other word,” Baneck answered.

Honee paused, 15 feet above the floor.  She looked down at Baneck, and smiled slyly.  “Jocoo.”

The spell ended, and she dropped.

And the second part of the enchantment – that Honee would take no effect from a fall – held true.  She landed as lightly on her feet as if she had taken a little hop.

She rocked back on her heels.  “This has possibilities,” she said, beaming at her new items.

Nepta looked calmly at Baneck, her eyes dancing with delight.  “You placed that Mark so only she could use it, didn’t you?  Well done.”

“Well done?”  He gave a devious smile.  “I’m just getting started.”