Games.

Once upon a time, there was a woman called Scheherazade who was supposed to have kept a jaded Sultan happy with stories. I wonder if she came from the same dimension as the Little Bard? She was telling me a story about when she was young. She ended it with a cliffhanger, too, like the storytellers in the bazaars, (and they did that to coax coins from their audience. I wonder what it will cost me to hear the rest of Erynne's tale?)

At the start of the story she was telling me of the learning games that she'd once played. All young creatures do it, playing at fighting and retreat, running and leaping and hiding and seeking, learning how to learn. Usually the games they play are as old as the species. Even the humans play as predator and as prey, and the way the young males scuffle tells you that they once fought for mates.

I got distracted by the story, but afterward I remembered the games I played myself, before the magic grew too strong. In my dimension we test the glamors, casting them and seeing through them, misdirection and trickery. There are tricks that the Little Wolf should learn - and soon, these are dangerous days.

There are tricks from the Quaverel training, too. The University-Worlds change the students. It wouldn't be good to go near the Sunnydale Minion Personal Assistant now. The question game has her counting the cost of her training. Most of her people are soft hard in a different way. She wouldn't be welcome in her home now - and it wouldn't be a good idea to have her sing about that; Diran aren't easy to replace. There are many who get sent from their heavens, and more who just leave them - and some who just maybe can't belong anywhere.