Chapter 4

By the time they left the village, the rain had let up and the roads had dried out—a bit, at least—so it only took them six more days to reach the Bluewater River and cross the bridge. After that, it was another half-day’s journey to reach Tyrsall itself, farther along the bay.

From the outskirts of the city, it took several hours to reach the central district. Shavala accompanied Corec, Katrin, Treya, and Bobo to the stable where they’d left their old horses and mules during the trip to Circle Bay. Ellerie and Boktar went on ahead to find an inn that would have enough rooms for everyone.

“Socks!” Shavala exclaimed happily when she saw her gelding. He looked up and whinnied at her in greeting.

She opened the door to his stall and hugged him around the neck while he rested his head over her shoulder. Luckily, he didn’t seem too annoyed by her long absence. She’d explained to him before she’d left Tyrsall that she’d be gone for a while, but she wasn’t sure how much he’d understood.

Corec, who’d been speaking to the stable master, turned and called out to the group, “Have we decided which horses we’re selling?”

“What do you say, Broda?” Bobo asked his sturdy gray mare. “Want to go up north with me?” The horse ignored him, busy trying to make friends with Socks. Bobo turned to the stable master. “I suppose I should sell Rose, the dun you’ve been taking care of for me. Can you help with that? She’s too old to keep going with these younger horses, but she’s calm and would be good with children or working a plow.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the man said.

“Willowbranch,” Shavala asked her new horse, “you like Treya, yes? Will you let her keep riding you?”

Once again, Treya had somehow been stuck with the worst of the horses. Shavala had switched back and forth with her during the trip, but hadn’t had any luck in retraining her friend’s mare.

Like Socks, Willowbranch was a gelding. Shavala had given him the new name when he hadn’t responded to the old one. He was only two years old and had had a cruel owner previously, but he’d become quite a good riding horse in the short time they’d been together.

He turned his head to Treya and nickered softly, which Shavala interpreted as a good sign. An animal could understand what a druid said, at least to the extent its mind could handle, but the reverse wasn’t true. Druids had to depend on reading the animal’s body language and the noises it made.

“Shavala, can you tell him I’ll be stabling him somewhere else, but we’ll meet up with the rest of you soon?” Treya asked as she switched Shavala’s saddlebags for her own.

“Of course.”

“I want Flower back,” Katrin said, referring to her riding mule, “but I like Duchess too, if we need an extra horse.”

Corec nodded. “With a group this big, it doesn’t hurt to have an extra, even if we don’t need her right now.”

The stable master was willing to buy the remaining horses outright, along with all the extra saddles and tack, and to help find a buyer for one of the pack mules. Corec decided to hold on to the other new pack mule, to add to the two they already had.

“Can you stable the ones we’re keeping?” Corec asked the man. “Just for a few more days? I’m not sure where we’re staying tonight, or whether it’ll have a large enough stable.”

“I can do that,” the stable master said. “Same price as before.”

They pooled their money and paid the man, then Corec said, “Now, which stall is Dot in? I’d like to say hello.”

After the others had left to find Ellerie and Boktar, Katrin accompanied Corec to a nearby armor smith that the stable master had recommended. They brought along the mule they’d kept, which still had Corec’s plate armor bundled up on its pack saddle.

It was late afternoon and the streets were busy, filled with people going about their day. Following the directions the stable master had given them, they reached a street lined with an odd mix of businesses—coopers, smiths, brewers, and even a cobbler. Katrin had the unnerving feeling that she was being watched, but glancing around surreptitiously, she didn’t see anyone looking her way.

“I think this is the place,” Corec said, stopping outside a smithy that had several pieces of armor on display. The smithy had been built half indoors and half outdoors, and the heavy sound of metal clanging against metal could be heard coming from behind a partial wall.

“What do you need?” asked the thick-armed, middle-aged man who strode out to greet them, wiping his hands on his leather apron. The clanging hadn’t stopped, so there must have been another smith working with him.

Corec unstrapped the damaged breastplate from the mule and handed it over. “Can you do something with this?”

The man raised his eyebrows as he looked over the piece. “This was expensive work. What the hell did you do to it?”

“Ogre with a club.”

“That’ll do it, all right. What are these scratches?”

“A drake’s claws.”

“Hmm,” the smith said. “I should be able to pound out the dent, mostly, but it’s never going to be as strong as it was. A little dent is fine, but this is just too big—too much stress on the metal. I can add something behind it as reinforcement, but if it fits tight, you’ll have to wear less padding.”

“I can do that.”

“The scratches, not much I can do about those. I can buff and polish them a bit so they don’t stand out so much, but I can’t get rid of them, not unless you want to completely rework the whole thing, and it’d be cheaper to replace it.”

“If you can buff them out, you might as well, but I don’t care so much about how it looks as long as it works.”

“Good, because I can’t save the etching. What was it?”

“Family crest, but don’t worry about it. Just do what you have to do to save the armor.”

“It’s gonna cost you some.”

While they were working out the price, Katrin heard a familiar voice coming from down the street. She stepped farther into the smithy and pulled her straw cloche hat down lower on her head, then peered around an armor stand toward the street. Two men she knew were walking past.

“I swear I saw her, boss,” Torse said.

“Right,” Dallo replied. “Just like you saw her last time and let her get away.”

“She did something to me last time! Magicked me up.”

“If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be so eager to find her again.”

“I’m just trying to get back the money she owes you.”

“No, you just remember that I promised to give her to you for your stable if you ever found her.”

Katrin grimaced. No wonder Torse had been so interested in her the last time they’d met—he’d branched out from thieving to running whores.

“Well, sure, boss, but you’d still get half the money, on top of what she owes you.”

“I’ll take it out of her hide if I ever see her again—or Barz—but you’re the only one who claims she’s in the city. If she’d been working here, we’d know it by now. Why would she even come down this street?”

The men’s voices trailed off as they continued on their way. Katrin breathed a sigh of relief, but resolved to be more cautious. She’d gotten used to spending most of her time in Tyrsall holed up in an inn, and it looked like this trip wasn’t going to be any different. At least Dallo and his men were unlikely to visit the type of inn she played at. They preferred seedy taverns for themselves and upscale places for their targets.

Ellerie read through the end of the spell again and again. Learning a spell was more than just memorizing the words. A wizard had to know them, in and out, and know how they interacted with each other. More than that, the wizard had to be strong enough to actually cast the spell.

It didn’t help that her mind kept wandering. She felt the need to work off some stress, but that was awkward in her current situation. On the trip north, she’d had a room to herself whenever they were able to find an inn, but the tiny places they’d stayed in seldom had tavern whores—at least not ones who were willing to accompany a woman. Now that the group had reached the city, she had more choices ... but now she was sharing a room with Shavala, since Treya was staying at the Three Orders chapter house.

Of course, Ellerie could have still paid for a private room, but the longer she could stretch out her money, the better. Which was another reason to stay away from the tavern girls. The Baron of Pavik had offered them a small fee for taking care of the ogres for him, but he would have had to send someone back to his own keep to get the coin. They’d decided to continue on their way rather than waiting the extra two days it would have taken.

She turned her attention back to her spell book just as someone knocked on the door. Opening it, she found Boktar on the other side.

“We’re going downstairs to listen to Katrin play,” he said. “Are you coming?”

“I’m going to keep working on this. Maybe later.”

“All right. Don’t forget to eat this time.”

“I’m not that bad!”

He just waited, staring at her.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll be down in an hour.”

He nodded and left.

She sighed and sat back down, taking up her book once again. Blanking her mind of everything else, she read through the entire banishing spell from beginning to end, and suddenly, it clicked into place. She could feel it take hold in her mind. She’d have to study it again from time to time as a reminder, but now that she knew it, she could cast it at will. Almost at will, anyway—she could tell from the way it felt that casting it would take a lot out of her. Still, maybe now she could do something about the binding spell.

She stood in front of the room’s small mirror and whispered the words to her arcane sight spell, would would give her the ability to see magic. When it was complete, her regular vision grew fuzzy. Arcane sight affected each wizard differently, though her teachers had never been able to give her a reason why. But despite her difficulty in actually seeing herself in the mirror, she could now see the binding spell clearly.

The ones she’d seen during her training had been simple things—thin, straight lines connecting one object to another, or an object to a person. This one was different. There was a glowing blue braided cord that disappeared after leaving her chest, though if Corec was in the room, she’d have been able to see the other end appear in his. For some reason, the cord was invisible outside their bodies, even to her arcane sight.

Tiny tendrils extended outward from the cord, and even smaller tendrils grew from those, looking like a series of vines growing along a wall. The tendrils were anchored in place, but she couldn’t see what they were anchored to. Every time she studied the binding spell, the pattern was slightly different, as if the tendrils had moved around. Her teachers had never mentioned anything like it. One of the tendrils extended up to her forehead, to the spot where the sigil would appear if she allowed it.

Muttering the words to the banishing spell, she focused it on the cord, the tendrils, and the sigil. She could feel the spell take shape in her mind, but when she let it loose, it passed right through her, ignoring the binding spell as if it wasn’t there. Which was exactly what Corec and the others said the result had been when they’d asked other wizards for help.

Having failed, Ellerie sat back down and put her head in her hands to cry.

After leaving Willowbranch groomed and happy in the Three Orders’ stable, Treya entered the chapter house. She waved to people she knew and tried to ignore the curious stares they gave her for returning home yet again when she was supposed to be out journeying.

Carrying her packs slung over her shoulder, she stopped at Ola’s office first.

“Back again?” the woman said, raising her eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, Mother Ola. The group I’m traveling with is heading north, so we came to Tyrsall to buy supplies and get our horses back. And I need to speak to Priest Telkin from the Temple of Allosur while I’m here—I never really got any training on how to use the healing magic, so I’m hoping he can give me some advice. Is my room still available?”

“Yes, yes, it is. We got two more girls while you were out, but they’re young, so I put them in the east wing. I trust you remember where the clean linens are?”

“Yes. Thank you, Mother Ola.”

The woman shook her head. “It’s probably good you’re paying a visit. Sister Shana was just asking me how you’re doing.”

“Shana’s here?”

“She’s hunting a bounty and tracked him into the city, but at the moment, I believe she and Kelis are talking to the younger girls about the Order of Mystics. They’re in the Little Hall.”

“I’ll go find them,” Treya said, then excused herself.

She dropped her packs off in her familiar room, then went to the Little Hall, which was called that because it was a smaller mirror image of the Great Hall. The Great Hall was where the Sisters and students ate their meals, but the Little Hall was used for lectures and larger classes.

Once she got there, she found Shana and Kelis facing a group of girls ranging between eight and twelve years old. It seemed the talk was over, and the women were taking questions.

“Ahh, and here’s another mystic,” Kelis announced. “Most of you should remember Sister Treya. She went off on her journeying, but she likes us so much, she keeps coming back.”