“And Magda, we ask that you be their leader, the Mother Confessor, and help make them as effective, as dedicated, as noble in fighting for truth as you have shown yourself to be.”

Magda bowed her head as she squeezed Merritt’s hand. “I can do that.”

“And Merritt,” Councilman Sadler said, “we have come to understand, as you have explained it, the particular vulnerabilities of a Confessor. Especially in the time following the use of her power, when she is weakened and less able to protect herself. Even more critically, because of the nature of the power that she possesses, she is going to be a prime target for a great many dangerous people.

“We therefore ask that you be permanently assigned to be protector to Magda, the Mother Confessor. Once the band of sister Confessors is created, they too will each need a wizard to be their protector and to help them in their duties.

“But for now, there are only you two, the Mother Confessor, and her wizard. That is, if you both agree, of course.” He looked to each of them in turn. “Do you both agree to this?”

Magda smiled as she and Merritt shared a look.

Looking into her eyes, Merritt said, “Wizard Merritt agrees and promises to always protect Magda, the Mother Confessor.”

Looking into Merritt’s eyes, Magda said, “And Magda, the Mother Confessor, will always stand by her wizard, Merritt.”

The people in the room erupted in cheering.

As the people were celebrating the news, Merritt leaned close. “You look positively stunning, Mother Confessor.”

Magda’s cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you about your hair,” he said in a private tone.

She smoothed her hair back, then pulled out the white confession flower she had placed there, the flower Baraccus had once given her that she had kept in her silver box of memories. She twirled the little flower in her fingers, thinking about the path she had taken.

“What about my hair?”

“You can’t cut it.”

Magda twitched a frown up at him. “I can if I want.”

“No, actually, you can’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

He leaned a little closer, looking a bit guilty. “The power won’t let a Confessor cut her hair.”

Magda was truly puzzled. “Won’t let me? What in the world are you talking about?”

“The length of a woman’s hair denotes status in the Midlands. You are the Mother Confessor. There is no woman of higher status than the Mother Confessor. Cutting your hair would be lowering your status in the eyes of many, so the magic of a Confessor’s power won’t allow it.”

“Won’t allow it,” she repeated in a flat tone.

“That’s right, won’t allow it.”

“Well, what if it needs to be trimmed?”

“Someone else has to do it.”

Magda’s brow lifted. “Touchy, isn’t it?”