When Colonel Harvey’s office door shut behind her, Magdala’s stomach clenched. The garrison commander’s expression was that of a woman who’d heard pleasurable news, but Magdala had seen a similar look on her own mother’s face and knew it heralded a 3 hour lecture. The fact that Mei, Saundra, and Sir Marcus were here to witness didn’t make her feel any better.
Steepling her fingers in front of her, Colonel Harvey sat back in her seat. “Lady Gallus, brief me on the state of your investigation.”
As Magdala described the events of the past few hours, starting with her discovery in the infirmary and finishing with the battle in the shop, the colonel’s calm countenance gave way to smoldering anger.
When Magdala finished talking, Colonel Harvey closed her eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. “Who do you think you are?”
Magdala’s jaw dropped. “Pardon?”
“You heard me. Who do you think you are?” Colonel Harvey smiled. “First, allow me to commend your ability to cast difficult magic in a critical situation. Because of that, Mei’s markmanship, and Corporal Taylor’s heroics, the three of you escaped a situation that, frankly, I would have had trouble with.” She clapped. “I’m impressed. Good job.” Her hands went still. “But I must return to my question. Lady Gallus, who do you think you are? You entered a hostile location alone, taking neither the enthusiastic bodyguard I’d assigned you nor the exceptional hunter that you’ve been traveling with. Instead, you tricked them both and left them behind.”
Magdala’s cheeks burned. “I believed I could handle it.”
The colonel rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Between you and that idiot Huan-“
“What happened?” Mei’s posture was stiff, and her lip was trembling.
Colonel Harvey glanced at Mei. “Your brother tracked down the enemy alone and got himself gutted for his trouble.” She sighed. “Foolish boy.”
“Where is he?”
The colonel’s face softened. “He’s being taken care of. Sir Marcus will take you to him.”
After Mei let Sir Marcus lead her out of the office, the colonel’s ire refocused on a quailing Magdala. “Why did you think that you could handle it alone? Put aside the fact that, by your own admission, it was Corporal Taylor’s familiarity of the city and Mei’s ingenuity that got you to the scene in the first place, and remind me why you thought you could take down a creature that nearly killed your lord uncle all by yourself.”
“I was just trying to keep Corporal Taylor and Mei safe.”
“What?” Saundra’s eyes widened when she realized she’d spoken out of turn, but Colonel Harvey nodded, and so she pressed on. “Milady, it’s my job to protect you. If me and Mei hadn’t caught up to you, those things would have ripped you apart, and we’d have to search the whole city just to maybe find pieces of you.”
Magdala’s lips pursed. “I would have found some way out.”
Saundra’s face reddened. “Oh, so we’re holding you back?”
“No, but-“
“Enough.”
At Colonel Harvey’s command, both girls sank into sullen silence.
Colonel Harvey’s fingers came together. “You’re smart and more than capable of making good, sound decisions, and so one last time now: who do you think you are?”
Magdala tried to grab for her cloak, but it was ash and cinders now. “I’m my mother’s daughter. She could have handled that whole situation alone.”
“I wonder about that.” The colonel tapped a short sheaf of papers lying on her desk. “This is Lady Pol’s account of what happened at Yumma. Despite her well known dislike of your lord uncle, she credits you and him for getting her out of that place alive. That’s a powerful mage, possibly the next Wind Sage, admitting that she needed help. Do you think she could have handled that situation alone? Could your lord uncle have?”
Had Mei, Huan, and Dwayne’s efforts been left out of Lady Pol’s account? Magdala pushed the question aside and came up with a response to Colonel Harvey’s last question. “My lord uncle can’t walk down the street without help, ma’am.”
Colonel Harvey spread her hands wide. “And yet he’s one of the most powerful mages in Soura. Consider that perhaps your mother, as powerful as she is, is still only human. Perhaps, she needs help sometimes too.”
Magdala very much doubted this, but before she could say so, the door burst open, and Galkin and a Wesen boy charged into the room. The latter was covered in what Magdala seriously hoped was just dirt, though he filled the room with the stink of horse manure and rotted hay. The Wesen boy approached, but Saundra jumped between them, hand on her sword.
The boy smiled at Magdala. “You’re alive! They said that monsters attacked you.”
Saundra’s hand tightened on her sword hilt. “Who are you? How’d you get in here?”
The steward sighed. “My lord, I did suggest a bath and a change of clothes first. Even soldiers prefer to be clean.”
The boy looked down and groaned. “It’s just… I wanted to be sure you were okay.”
“Dwayne?” Magdala looked him over. “What happened to you? Were you attacked?” She sniffed. “By a load of horse dung?”
“No, I was showing off. Are you hurt? What happened?”
Saundra pushed Dwayne back with one hand. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to-“
Colonel Harvey yawned. “This morning I received a ridiculous letter from Lord Gallus stating that that boy you’re pushing, Corporal, is Lord Kalan’s apprentice and the heir to Walcrest, and so I assume he’s here because of the alarm bells, not to assault our noses.”
Dwayne faced Colonel Harvey. “Baron, I’m going to need details of what happened.”
The colonel inspected her fingernails. “Lady Gallus here can fill you in as well as that fool Huan. He should be with your master.”
Dwayne’s jaw clenched. “Galkin, can you get Huan’s statement?”
“Immediately, my lord.”
When the door had closed behind the steward, Colonel Harvey asked Dwayne, “Are you sure that you can trust him? I don’t like the look of him.”
Dwayne gave her a flat look. “That is between Lord Kalan, myself, and him.”
Colonel Harvey raised an eyebrow. “Someone is growing a bit big for his breeches. If the lynchpin of the Southern Line died, it would be a blow to this kingdom. It’s bad enough he leaves his post for months chasing rumors and stealing slaves.”
Magdala scoffed. “My lord uncle paid for Dwayne fair and square.”
The colonel laughed. “Right. Is there anything else, Master Dwayne?”
Dwayne stood still, his rage balling his hands into fists.
Colonel Harvey shook her head. “Just like the rest of your race. No self control.”
Dwayne’s fists tightened then loosened. “I would like to remind you that Lord Gallus is coming to this garrison for an inspection.”
“I do not require a reminder.”
Dwayne smiled. “Good. Then we can discuss arrangements for his reception tomorrow morning.”
Colonel Harvey frowned. “And why should I bother?”
Magdala put her hands on her hips. “Because you want to impress my father. We all do.”
The colonel’s jaw worked. “Fine. Come early. I have a lot of work and very little time.”
“I appreciate it.” Dwayne turned on his heel and left the room.
Colonel Harvey waved Saundra and Magdala away. “You’re dismissed.”
After Magdala and Saundra fled into the darkened corridor, the corporal dried her hands on her trousers. “That was scary.”
Magdala looked around, but Dwayne was nowhere to be found. She leaned against the wall. “What am I going to do now?”
“Go to bed?” Saundra asked. “Or you could hang out at the barracks.”
“No, I meant… how am I going to continue the investigation?”
Saundra stared at Magdala. “You want to keep going?”
“There were dozens of those things,” said Magdala. “We can’t stop. Where was she even getting all of those corpses from? Aren’t corpses cremated to prevent this exact thing from happening?”
“Yeah, there are fire pits just outside of Walton, but-“
“Then unless they’re getting corpses from deep within Soura or tossing them over the wall from Vanuria, there’s no way there’d be that many corpses available to revive. Tomorrow, I’m going to those pits. Let’s see if that yields another lead.”
Saundra nodded. “I’m coming with you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
Saundra crossed her arms. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, milady. Where you go, I go.”
Chapter 7: Qegerenutem, sinkhole
Yonder’s book, On the Pre-paration of Magick, stated the following line of reasoning: spells were ideas, the human mind could hold multiple ideas at once, and so therefore, the mind could hold multiple spells at once. One need only to focus.
Holding on to that reasoning, Dwayne closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said,”Ri.“
As magic awakened to his call, Dwayne banished the image of his mentor lying poisoned on the floor of his own study and concentrated on his first idea: anger. “mwe.“
Now live, the spell thrashed and writhed, trying to twist free of Dwayne’s control, but he wrestled it still and taut. After wiping sweat from his brow, he focused on the next idea happiness and summoned up the day he’d picked up Na’cch off the ground, and it sang to him.
“a-“
But the man who’d given Dwayne that book was comatose in a spare adminstrative office, he might never wake up, and Dwayne would be left a lord, and-
The spell slipped out of Dwayne’s control, and the unrestrained magic blasted him out of his chair and onto the stone floor.
He lay there a moment, pain rippling up and down his side, eyes full of bright spots. Then he sat up, his nose wrinkling. The failed spell had left a smoky tang in the air, one that he’d now always associate with failure. After rescuing Yonder’s book from the edge of the lake, he righted his chair, sat back down at the table, and laid the book down next to a new burn scar in the wood, which marked his fifth attempt. Dwayne sat back, closed his eyes, and waited. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. A migraine, a stampede of pain, rampaged through his brain, making him gasp, but he held on with teeth clenched. Yonder had warned that failing at pre-prep magic too many times was dangerous for one’s physical and mental health. She recommended students stop after three failures in one day, and, now that his brain felt like it was being beaten to mush, Dwayne was forced to concur.
When the migraine had finally faded, he turned his attention to the other two books on the table, both of which had escaped his failure: the Ri tome Na’cch, and The Responsibilities of a Noble Mage by Eritrea Armsford. The former was unopenable and only occasionally deigned to teach Dwayne one spell at a time, and as usual, it was silent. Dwayne turned to the latter book, which he had opened when Lord Kalan had given it to him, but two pages in, and he knew it described a future he did not want. Instead of facing that future, he focused on the library, wishing he could explore beyond its first few rows of shelves, but every time he tried, something gently pushed him back towards the table, like a parent pushing a child back to safety. As for the books that Dwayne could reach, they all had unintelligible titles in what looked like Yaniti, an ancient form of the trade language sailors and traders used. He only knew a little, mostly picked up from Magdala’s reading time with Mei, and considering its current form and the people who spoke it, he had no plans to ever study it more thoroughly.
His stomach growled. He’d lost track of time down here without the sun’s passage to tell time, and it had been a long time since breakfast, a long time since… Sighing, Dwayne grabbed Na’cch, strapped it onto his back and used the lift to return to the study.
Galkin was waiting for him. “My lord, you are needed.”
Dwayne gave the steward a look. “What time is it?”
“Two hours past noon,” answered the steward, admonishment and disapproval clear in his tone. “You have responsibilities to this estate, my lord.”
Dwayne flinched. “No, I-” He caught himself. “What are you talking about?”
“Since Lord Gallus is on his way here, we must prepare to receive him, his retinue, and any guests that may be traveling with him.”
Dwayne stepped around the steward. “Can’t you arrange all of that? I’ll just do what you say.”
Galkin shook his head. “My lord, I am merely a steward, and my job is simply to take care of the estate, not run it.”
“Regardless, you know it far better than I do,” said Dwayne, “and I’m sure you already know how to set up parties designed to impress the brother-in-law of the currently comatose estate holder.” He shrugged. “It’ll be easy for you, right? Get to it.”
Galkin’s face went blank.
“I can stand around looking stern,” Dwayne offered, “if that would help.”
“It would not, my lord.”
Dwayne slumped. “Why not?”
“My lord.” Galkin’s hand came up to his forehead, then it dropped as he took a deep breath. “My lord, you are Lord Bartholomew Kalan’s heir.”
Dwayne stepped back. “No, I’m not. He was just being silly.”
Galkin’s jaw clenched. “The night he first arrived here at Walcrest, Lord Kalan gathered all of the staff together and informed us of that very fact. Afterwards, he handed me three letters to be sent by post to Lord Gallus, the Magisterium, and the Queen. On his orders, I sealed each letter with his ring, marking them as official correspondence, and each stated the following, ‘I name the boy Dwayne, currently my ward, as my apprentice and as my heir to both my estate and my position as Guardian of Walcrest.'”
Dwayne’s jaw dropped. “That’s… That’s…”
Galkin stepped closer, his eyes meeting Dwayne’s. “My lord, with all of that entrusted to you, are you still going to run away?”
Dwayne collapsed into a sofa, his mind reeling. Then he jumped to his feet and searched the sofa, certain he’d sat in Lord Kalan’s blood. Finding nothing, he relaxed and sat back down. Everything from the sofas to the carpets had been scrubbed clean or replaced.
Galkin noted Dwayne’s reaction. “After young Lady Gallus was finished with her investigation this morning, I had the staff do their job. Keeping this estate clean is our responsibility.”
Getting the hint, Dwayne turned to the steward, who was dressed in a dark green suit and pale green leggings with a collar pressed flat enough to cut. For his part, Dwayne was wearing a tunic that hadn’t been washed in days, breeches that showed more than a little wear and tear, and boots, though comfortable, that definitely clashed with the rich decor of the estate he was now heir to. He didn’t look like a lord. He didn’t feel like a lord. But if he didn’t become a lord, he’d have to run away and hide out in the wilderness, and leave behind his studies on magic, his teacher, and Magdala and Huan and Mei. That was too much to lose.
He stood up. “In the introduction of The Responsibilities of a Noble Mage, Armsford states, ‘A noble mage should be fastidious about her looks in order to look her best at all times.’ While I get the book from downstairs, draw me up a bath and get me some new clothes. I… I don’t want this place, I don’t want to be a noble, but I do want to be a mage, so I’ll make sure that when Lord Kalan wakes up and when Lord Gallus arrives, neither of them will be embarrassed by the state of this, uh, estate.”
A soft tone rang behind Dwayne, and he turned to the library’s door, listening for whispers. “What was that?” He turned to Galkin. “Did you hear that?”
Taking his eyes off Na’cch, the steward bowed. “Just a sign of good times I’m sure, my lord. It will be done.”
Update on Book 4!
I have been working on developing the next story, which will focus on Dwayne and Mei. It’ll likely be more complicated than the past three stories, but it will be good for my writing development.
Also I’m updating the Table Of Contentsfor How to Make A Wand. On occasion. When I remember.
In other news, I’m in the process of moving in with Sara. Piece by piece we’re merging our lives.
Chapter 6: Xa-rui-shei-oshi, Panther’s Pelt
Huan screamed, and when the little monster reached for his throat, he stumbled backwards from the window, his voice sputtering into hoarse gasps. Still screeching, the monster climbed in through the window, her makeup flaking off of her pale grey skin and fluttering down to the floor.
Huan stopped screaming but kept his mouth open. How had I thought she was human?
Tiger had a sage response. A predator who hides with their prey will soon be very full.
Liraya’s voice cut through the screams. “Zeya, Fo tespearta.”
Retching and coughing, the wraith like assassin rose out of the box, opened its eyes, and charged. Huan tried to roll out of the way, but a cold hand grabbed his collar, threw him against the wall, and pinned him there. Leaning in close, the assassin snarled, her breath filling Huan’s nose with the smell of flowers, pickles, and magic.
Huan turned his face away, the nausea and pain almost too much for him.
“Zeya, Fo daryl le vielta.”
The wraith peeled Huan off the wall and forced him to face the Vanurian. When Huan tried to break free, the wraith squeezed, and he cried out from the pain.
Liraya scrutinized Huan, shook her head, and spoke to the little monster. “Melany, Fo deya te kreeta i empeka.”
Melany stopped screaming, closed the window, then knelt to collect the papers scattered across the floor.
Even through the pain, Huan noticed that Liraya’s lyrical spells sounded different from both Dwayne’s punctuated castings and Magdala’s muddled invocations. They all sounded like sentences, just ones that all started with the syllable Fo.
“So,” Liraya switched to Souran, “who are you?” She took in the armor. “Did you steal that?”
Huan pushed away the pain and tried a rakish grin. “No, they gave it to me.”
“Hah! Someone must have pulled some strings.” In one movement, she’d stepped in close and grabbed his chin. Turning his head from side to side, she said, “You’re full blooded Tuquese if I’ve ever seen one, possibly even from decent stock.” She released his chin and examined his eyes. “Not from the north or west of the Empire, I’d bet.” She scoffed and stepped back. “Common. Just common. You’d make a good laborer back home, but that’s not worth keeping you around. Zeya, Fo mehtahyo.“
Zeya’s hand closed around Huan’s neck and tightened.
Huan flailed. “No, no, no! I’ve got something you’d be interested in.”
The Vanurian raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Zeya, Fo tedenar.“
Zeya released Huan’s throat.
Liraya inspected her nails, which were painted a deep red. “In case you were wondering, money will not pay the price of your life.”
“Look under my scarf,” said Huan.
Liraya’s eyes dropped to his neck. “Zeya, Fo konziguelo.”
When the wraith slid its hand under Huan’s scarf and touched Tiger’s mask, sparks flew, and suddenly Huan was flying through the air, the wraith’s screams following him.
As he hit the far wall and slid to the ground, Liraya ran to her creation. “Zeya!”
The wraith was lying on the ground, twitching.
Huan coughed and got to his feet. Unexpected, but I’ll take it. He slipped Tiger’s mask on and allowed himself a growl. “Get out of the way, witch.”
Chapter 5: Fouiaccuyitem, body shamble
Standing in an actual armory filled with swords, hammers, and dozens of other weapons, Magdala knew she was in heaven. She picked up a stout wooden shaft with a spiked iron ball and chain hanging off it and gave it a swing, compelling the iron ball to arc down, around, and up back towards her face.
Taylor caught it right before it hit. “Every time I see someone use a flail they end up with a broken nose. Every time. I thought you knew weapons, milady.”
Ears reddening, Magdala set the flail back on the rack. “Well, it’s probably effective once you get a hit in. If you don’t…”
“Broken nose for sure. What do you think, Mei?” Taylor looked around. “Mei?”
Magdala and Taylor looked at each other then split up to search the armory. While checking each aisle, Magdala walked past shelves full of spears and pikes, noting the plain and competent construction of each weapon. These wouldn’t win any beauty contests, but they wouldn’t break either. She’d resolved to spend the rest of her life here when she found Mei at the back of the shop, surrounded by soot-streaked weapon smiths who were all marveling at the rifle. Mei’s gaze looked cloudy as if she couldn’t focus on what was happening. Pursing her lips, Magdala rushed forward.
“See how the trigger mechanism strikes the flint and sets off the powder in the pan?” A stout, blonde-haired smith peered at Mei’s rifle with her magnifying glass. “Clever stuff.”
A burly smith sized Mei up. “She’s from Tuqu, right? They came up with the crossbow trigger after all.”
A third smith shook his head, rubbing his soot gray beard. “Naw, it was them Wesen chaps. Can we keep this for study?” He reached for Mei’s rifle.
The hunter recoiled, clutching her rifle to her chest.
The old man’s hand didn’t stop. “Ah come on-“
“Enough.” Magdala knocked the hand away and stood beside her friend.
The old man sneered. “Who’re you?”
When Magdala flashed her ring, all but one of the smiths stepped back.
The old man bowed. “Ah, so sorry, milady.”
“You lot get back to work,” said the blonde smith, the only one who hadn’t stepped back. “Enough gaping. We’ve got orders to fill.” After the other smiths disappeared into the forge, she addressed Magdala. “I heard you went up to Walcrest with your uncle. What are you doing down here with us common folk?”
Magdala raised an eyebrow. “You are?”
“Allison Langseth, Guildmaster, milady.” Langseth drew close, her lips curled. “Is it nice up there, right up next to the wall? I’ve never been.”
Magdala raised her chin. “It’s nice enough.”
“There you are!” Taylor emerged from the shelves, patted Mei on the shoulder, and then looked between Langseth and Magdala. “What’s going on?”
Langseth grinned. “Oh ho ho, Swordbreaker returns!” She pulled Taylor into a bear hug.
When both Magdala and Mei gave her quizzical looks, Taylor blushed. “It’s just a nickname.”
Langseth released the corporal. “You were supposed to stop by for that refitting. What have you been up to instead?”
Taylor pointed a thumb at Magdala. “Helping milady with her mission and… recovering. From the incident.”
Langseth’s grin faded and she nodded. “Yeah, that was rough stuff. I’m glad you came out of it with all your bits. What are you doing with a noble and a foreigner?”
Taylor glanced at Magdala, who sighed. “We’re looking for something.” She patted her pockets. “Where is that vial?”
Mei stepped forward and said quietly, “I need an axe.”
Vial forgotten, Magdala grabbed both of the hunter’s hands and grinned. “By the cups, yes! That is far more important. Considering how you fought yesterday-“
“Right? She’s a born axe fighter.” Taylor ruffled Mei’s hair.
“Well you came to the right place.” Langseth grinned at Magdala who felt her face heat up. “Well well well, Lord Gallus’s daughter is a weapons enthusiast. Like father, like daughter, eh?” She clapped Magdala on the back. “I like this one. Bring her around again, Saundra.”
Taylor grinned.
“In that case,” Langseth gave Mei a conspiratorial wink. “Taylor, show this young lady where we keep our finest wares. You’ve been here so many time, Swordbreaker, you should know where we keep the axes.”
Taylor nodded, and she led a bemused Mei into the shelves.
Langseth turned to Magdala. “Saundra isn’t easy to impress. If you want something special made just for your friend-“
“What did you have in mind?” Magdala leaned in.
Langseth winked. “I’ll show you.”
She led Magdala to the front of the shop, giving Magdala time to find the vial that she’d been looking for before and pull it out of her cloak.
Glancing at the stock on the shelves, Magdala frowned. “Mei is a hunter… Most of the stuff you make here is for soldiers, right?”
Langseth stepped behind the front counter. “They are our primary customers, and, because of your father and his fancy swordplay, the soldiers here don’t go much for axes. Hammers sure, because not everyone’s got the skill to handle a blade, but not axes.”
Magdala tilted her head. “Hammers?”
Langseth’s eyebrows came together. “Those things them Vanurian sorcerors make? The best way to stop them is to smash in their heads. You can try to cut them off, but if you don’t swing right, your sword’ll get stuck in their necks and then they’ll be all over you like rust on iron. I fixed up the armor of the soldiers who survived that last attack, and I saw the teeth marks. Whatever those things are, they ain’t right.”
Magdala shivered but focused on the main question. “Mei needs a good axe, one she can use out in the forest, maybe even throw in a pinch. Do you have anything like that?”
Langseth sat down behind her counter. “What we have in stock will serve but…” She pulled a huge book out from under the counter, flipped through it, and showed Magdala a page. “Is this more what you had in mind?”
Perfect. It was made of a single piece of worked steel with a curved handle and some beveling to reduce weight and it was perfect. Although the design on the page was too long for Mei, Magdala could already see it in her friend’s hands, and since the axe head couldn’t break off, the weapon would last for a long time. If it was as balanced as it looked…
Magdala shook herself and looked up from the page.
Langseth’s grin widened. “The last order of these I made was a matched pair for a wedding. For you, I’m thinking a trio.”
Magdala frowned. “A trio?”
“One for your friend of course. That light in your eyes tells me it’s perfect for her. And then one for you and one for Swordbreaker. A friendly trio of axes.” Langseth winked.
Magdala blushed. “Would… would they take long to make?”
Langseth chuckled. “I have some advantages in that department.” She pulled a glittering ring on a chain out from underneath her shirt collar. A single tall mount was etched on it, Cueller mountain.
Watching the ring twist on its chain, Magdala knew that it was made of an incredibly light metal that only Qe magic was able to extract from its ore. “You’re a Qe mage. I’m nQe. I haven’t graduated yet though.”
Langseth’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? nQe? With your lineage? Wow.”
Magdala hid her dismay with a cough. “So how long?”
“About a week if I have the time,” answered Langseth, “longer if I don’t. I expect we’ll be getting a lot of orders soon. For some reason, Ole Harvey is biding her time for now, but she doesn’t like sitting around waiting. She’ll make her move soon.”
“I agree.” Magdala shut the book.
Mei, a small axe with a varnished wooden handle in her hands, walked up to the counter with Taylor in tow. After glancing at the book, she placed the axe on the counter. “This one.”
Magdala inspected the weapon, which was fine. It wasn’t beautiful, but the forge on the metal was good, and the tempered iron oak handle wasn’t going to break anytime soon, and so, it was fine. Magdala tried to push the perfection of the other weapon out of her mind.
“How much?” Mei asked Langseth.
“5 counts.” Langseth whisked the book back under the counter.
Taylor reached for her belt. “I’ll pay.”
Magdala stopped her. “No, I will.” She took out her purse and counted out coins. “I have more money, and anyway this is my lord uncle’s responsibility.” He’d be paying for that perfect axe too. She put the money on the counter.
Taylor’s face fell. “Oh, right.”
Langseth slid the coins into her palm. “Since I anticipate further orders, I have something extra for you.” After rummaging for a couple moments underneath the counter, she dropped three bronze medallions in front of them, each etched with an image of Cueller’s Cup.
Taylor’s eyes lit up. “I thought you sold all of these!”
Langseth leaned onto the counter. “These are the last ones. You want them?”
“Yes! How much?”
“6 earls each.”
Taylor paid immediately and then handed one each to Magdala and Mei. “These are from when Langseth became Guildmaster.”
Magdala rubbed the metal, and warmth flowed into her fingers. She nearly dropped it. “You made these with magic.”
Langseth winked. “It’s part of my guarantee.” She gave a sly smile. “As for that other thing, you interested?”
“Yes, I am,” said Magdala.
Taylor nudged Magdala with her elbow and Magdala felt her enthusiasm drain away. “Right, I have a question about something else.” She produced the vial of diluted red ichor and uncorked it. allowing a sweet cloying scent to fill the air.
Gagging, the smith covered her nose. “Put that away.” After Magdala had recorked the vial, she answered Magdala’s unasked question. “That’s Vanurian for sure. I visited a count back when I was an apprentice and the place was full of the stuff. I don’t know how they make it and I don’t want to know. You’ll have to go to the Jungle to find out.”
Magdala raised an eyebrow. “The Jungle? You mean the other side of the Southern Line?”
Mei shook her head. “There’s one in the city.” She tucked the axe into her belt. “I can take you there.”
Taylor squirmed. “Ah, it’s… not the best place for someone like you, milady.”
Before Magdala could respond, Langseth asked, “Why do you even have that stuff?”
Magdala gave a quick curtsy. “I can’t tell you, but thank you very much. I’ll stop by later.”
“You’d better bring that one next time,” said Langseth, pointing to Taylor. “We have some weapons we’d like her to try out.”
Admaeus Speaks 