“Hello!” the young woman said, and Valkyrie was shaking her hand before she knew what was happening. “It’s very good to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you, naturally, but it’s so good to finally meet you in the flesh!”

She was Scottish, had long red hair, a few freckles and the brightest smile Valkyrie had seen in a long time.

“You’ll have to forgive the students,” the woman said, lowering her voice slightly. “It’s not often they meet someone famous.”

Valkyrie took her hand back. Gently. “I’m not famous.”

“Ah, well, infamous, then.”

Valkyrie took a moment to work it out, then she sagged. “Oh, right. Darquesse.”

“They’ve seen all the pictures,” the redhead said, “all the videos. And there are plenty of videos of Darquesse tearing the place up. They don’t mean anything by staring, really they don’t.”

“It’s fine,” Valkyrie replied. “Amazingly, I kind of forgot that people would associate me with her, even though we shared the same face. Just another thing to feel bad about, I suppose.”

“Mmm,” said the redhead, because she obviously couldn’t think of a way to salvage this topic of conversation. Then she brightened again. “I’m Militsa Gnosis. I teach Magic Theory.”

“You’re a Necromancer?”

“Guilty as charged,” Militsa said, and then suddenly stopped smiling. “Which is probably not the best phrase to use when most of your Order plotted to kill billions of people. If it makes any difference, though, I didn’t know anything about the Passage or what the Clerics were planning.”

“So you’re a good Necromancer?”

“Yes,” Militsa said, beaming once again. “I was going to store my magic in a ring like you did, but I didn’t want you to think I was copying you, even though I so would have been, so I keep it in this instead.” She pulled back her sleeve, revealing a thick bracelet. “It’s pretty cool, I think.”

“Yeah.”

Militsa’s smile faltered. “Oh, no.”

“What?”

“I’m being lame, aren’t I?”

“Sorry?”

“I’m being so lame right now,” Militsa said, her chin dropping. “You think I’m a complete idiot, don’t you?”

“Do I?”

“You must.”

“I don’t think so.”

“But I’m babbling. I’m just a babbling idiot that ran up to you and started babbling. This is so embarrassing. Why do I have to be so lame?”

“I … I don’t think you’re lame.”

“That’s just because you’re a nice person.”

“I’m not that nice,” Valkyrie said. “Really, I’m not. I’m quite rude.”

“You’re not rude.”

“I am,” Valkyrie insisted. “Before this conversation is done, I bet I’ll have been rude to you by accident.”

Militsa looked up. Her eyes were huge. “You mean it?”