[color=aba000][b]The Kha'Sherhan[/b][/color]

Responding to Ishara's surprise, Itzara replied, "[color=dcd9cd]You were not chosen on a whim. Sekhandur foresaw your commencement, and we have made preparations to accommodate you for some time.[/color]" Her voice was as soft and delicate as she seemed to be. Her family name, Nefertari, meant "beautiful companion" in the Aemeni tribal dialect, and couldn't have been a more apt description. Were her family part of a concubine's Fellowship? One could only wonder.

Seating himself, Sekhandur commented, "[color=aba000]Anyone in this Cabal could have done the same.[/color]" He said, deflecting the comment with humility that Ishara could not be sure was genuine. "[color=aba000]Except maybe Mekhari.[/color]" He added, golden eyes flashing with mischief.

"[color=d7be69]Ah![/color]" Mekhari made an insulted noise, and pressed his hand to his chest in a mocking display of offense. A round of chuckles broke through the Cabal at the friendly jest, save for Itzara, who only smiled demurely.

Looking back to Ishara, Sekhandur attempted to assuage her concerns. "[color=aba000]We don't expect anything from you that any of us wouldn't also give. The purpose of the Kha'Sherhan is to uplift each other, and pool our talents and resources for the betterment of us all. We're stronger as brothers than as rivals.[/color]" After a moment, he realized what he said didn't quite make sense, and tacked on, "[color=aba000]So to speak.[/color]"

"[color=cd7f32]You're quite lucky to be working with Magus Dagon.[/color]" Djedhor spoke up for the first time, looking Ishara in the eye. He seemed more steadfast than the playful Mekhari, which would hopefully make it easier to tell them apart. "[color=cd7f32]He's considered the authority on aetheric projection. A few of us have spoken with him directly, hoping to gain some insight from him. You're fortunate to have ready access to a respected expert.[/color]"

"[color=cb6d51]I find him... unpleasant. To speak to, I mean.[/color]" Ukris added his thoughts on the matter. "[color=cb6d51]I always feel like there's something... wrong with him.[/color]"

Not looking up from his drink, Sekhandur coolly replied, "[color=aba000]Perhaps he leaves something of himself behind on his forays into the Aether.[/color]"

"Perhaps my protege engages in far too much baseless speculation." spoke a long, low voice that did not have a readily apparent source. 

Then, a second after she had heard it, Ishara noticed the speaker, who had evidently been using a telepathic technique to divert attention away from his presence. Standing behind Sekhandur, gripping the seated Novitiate firmly by the shoulders, was a tall man in hooded robes of gold and black. His hands and face were as white as bone, and his hair was the pure white of a rare desert cloud. The man's eyes were a raw, bloody red, as though he had just been weeping sanguine tears. The man's pallor gave him an unnatural, corpse-like appearance, and though his features were far from unpleasant, the effects of aging likely dulled by the use of biomancy, his white hair gave him the impression of senescence. This could be none other than the Magus Ashur Kai, known across Photep as the White Seer.

Where Makhai Amon was considered the most influential Sorcerer in all of Photep, those that cared to impose such rankings would be more likely to position Kai above him in terms of sheer ability. Kai was not one to dabble in politics, which he considered a waste of time. His distaste for such matters was as well known as his genius in crafting prophecy and divining the future and the unseen. So when the previous Magister of the Cult of the Crow, Mainyu Azekh, was sentenced to exile by the Crimson King half a century ago, rumor had it that he was not even considered for the position. However, he was content to throw the weight of his reputation around when it suited him, such as when given the opportunity to take on a young prodigy from the Pesedjdet as his pupil. What's more was that he took on Sekhandur as his only Novitiate, when it was common practice for Magi to take on two or more at a time.

"You gossip like an old woman, Sekhandur," he said in his dry, gravely voice, squeezing his Novitiate's shoulders as Sekhandur sat, clearly trying to mask his embarrassment. "I will have to break you of that habit. That said, the only thing [i]wrong[/i] with Callis Dagon of the Irkuk is also wrong with me. He simply doesn't fare well in this climate." He looked over to Ishara, noticing that she was new among the gathering of Novitates, and his blood-red gaze bore down on her. "You are the newest of Sekhandur's little band of sycophants, yes? I'll say the same to you as I did to them: don't inflate his ego any more, else his head is likely to explode. If you become an obstacle to his studies, I will have such an obstacle removed."

Sekhandur rolled his eyes, wrenching free of Kai's grasp, "[color=aba000]Magus,[i] please[/i].[/color]" He complained like a child embarrassed by an overly doting parent. He addressed Ishara, apology written plain in his golden eyes, "[color=aba000]Please don't mind my master, he is overly protective of me. It stems from his insecurity of having never sired children of his own.[/color]" Kai seemed to take the returned barb in stride, though his smile had all of the warmth of a clenched fist.

[hr]

[color=fdc68a][b]Magister Khalophis[/b][/color]

"[color=fdc68a]Good, good.[/color]" Said Khalophis, nodding in turn to each of the Novitiates. "[color=fdc68a]Well, I look forward to speaking with you all again, perhaps once you're wearing something with a bit more color.[/color]" He punctuated his sentence by picking up the corner of Radaam's cloak, and briefly looking at it with bemusement, before letting it fall back away. "[color=fdc68a]I hope sincerely that young Zahra follows in your stead, Novitiate Esi. She has quite a spark in her, and I could see her achieving much... in the correct Cult.[/color]" He finished slyly, side-eyeing Kho.

With that, he reached behind his head and plucked one of the peacock feathers from vestments, and held in carefully in front of him. He focused intently on the feather, gesticulating at it with his long, thin fingers. Then, with a spark, the feather went up in flames, but the feather itself was not consumed by the fire. The flame was white, smokeless, and seemed to emit no heat. Khalophis ran his fingers over the burning feather to show that it did no harm, nor did it spread onto his sleeve.

He offered the feather to Radaam, saying, "[color=fdc68a]Give this to her, if you would. There's a good lad. Let her know that I hope we meet again in ten years' time.[/color]" Not allowing any chance for objection, the Magister turned on his foot and marched back the way he came, leaving the Novitates alone with his strange memento.