something wrong. I said you can’t still be observing translators, meaning by now they have assigned you to an official master to serve under, right?”
Myth shook her head.
Blaise’s jaw dropped. “What are they doing in the Translators’ Circle? Comparing beard lengths?”
“The department has been stretched thin lately with all the demands placed on us. It’s not surprising that they haven’t taken the time to place me in a position yet.”
“Maybe so, but it’s a crying shame they’re wasting you on observation when you should be working with your gift of languages,” Blaise grumbled.
“It’s been a little strange,” Myth admitted. “Because they’ve had me observe governmental meetings in addition to trade sessions. But I’ve found my observational periods quite useful, and even if I don’t have an official master, I’m still translating various trade logs and agreements as assignments.”
Blaise eyed her. “Have they assigned the other apprentices from your year to translators?”
Myth hesitated.
“I knew it!” Blaise jumped to her feet. “Those—” She spoke rapidly and spat out words Myth didn’t fully recognize, but she guessed by the redhead’s expression they were probably insults.
Myth, on the other hand, sipped her tea and remained calm. “It’s fine, Blaise.”
“It is not fine!”
Myth slightly raised her shoulders. “It is what it is. I’m certain I’ll be assigned to a translator eventually. Sit.”
Blaise mulishly tucked her chin and looked ready to storm the Translators’ Circle.
“You’re worrying some of your wizards.” Myth glanced at the nearest pair of wizards—an elderly female with bone white hair and a young man with giant glasses. Both were watching Blaise with puckered lips, but concern made the wrinkles on their foreheads pop.
Blaise glanced at them, then reluctantly sat down again. “You should ask what the holdup is. This isn’t acceptable—especially if the Translators’ Circle is stretched as thin as you claim it is.”
Myth smiled at her friend’s fierce love. “Regardless of what my future holds, I’m certain that with enough diligence I can prove my worth to the Translators’ Circle and win a spot for myself.”
“It’s not your diligence that is being called out here.” Blaise sighed and rested her chin on her fist.
“I actually am enjoying my most recent work assignment,” Myth said. “I’ve attended several governmental meetings with three senior translators who serve senior officers in the army. I’ve gotten to see Prince Benjimir, but not My Princess Gwendafyn.”
Blaise relaxed a little and returned to speaking slow Elvish. “That does sound interesting. You said you’ve been translating some logs?”
“Indeed—it’s why I was included in the luncheon. The orders from the humans of Calnor for elven goods continues to increase. Although my work had to be verified by a translator before the documents were passed on.”
“Your people make beautiful goods. It’s no small wonder we enjoy elven-produced goods and materials…” Blaise trailed off. She squinted, peering across the central chamber.
Myth turned to see a messenger boy bearing a bag with the Calnorian royal emblem. He appeared to be about ten or twelve, and his clothes were too big for him as he flipped through a few sealed envelopes. He found what he was looking for as he jogged up to Myth and Blaise. He sketched a bow to both of them, but surprisingly it was Myth he looked to. “Translator Mythlan?”
“Apprentice translator,” Myth corrected. “But yes, I am Mythlan.”
“Got an urgent message here for you.” The young boy passed the envelope over. He bounced in place as Myth ripped the envelope open. “Do you need a reply?”
Myth skimmed the contents and had to re-read them twice in her surprise. “No,” she finally said. “No reply is necessary. Thank you.”
He bowed again—first to Myth and then to Blaise—then jogged off, leaving the golden tower.
“Is something wrong?” Blaise asked.
“Of a sort, though most might disagree with me.” Myth carefully re-read the letter, trying to absorb the new twist that would greatly test her perseverance. “It’s from an instructor in the Translators’ Circle, requesting my presence at my earliest convenience…so he can give me the details of my new assignment.”
“You’re getting a master, then!”
“No…” Myth made herself rise to her feet, even though now more than ever she wanted to sip tea and chat with Blaise. “It says I’m going to be given a full position and serve as an official social translator.”
Blaise hopped to her feet and followed Myth as she marched toward the door. “But you’re a trade translator. You weren’t schooled for a social translator position!”
“I know.” Myth wasn’t entirely able to keep the chagrin out of her voice.
But truly,