“Indeed. Ensure that your agent knows that she’s not to give any sign of her true allegiance, and if she believes that she might be placed on the menu, she should make her escape quickly,” Emonael ordered grimly. “Recently, I was given a piece of wise advice, and I’ll pass it on here. Always have an escape plan.”
“As you say, Mistress. I’ll pass along your instructions,” Vira agreed, pausing for a moment, then asking. “May I ask what you’re doing there, Mistress? It’s odd for you to stay in a place that may be so dangerous, even if there’s the potential for a new mantle of power.”
“It’s . . . complicated, Vira. But at its essence, I’m growing stronger. Even if there wasn’t a mantle of power that I could attain, I’d be willing to stay here,” Emonael told her servant, shrugging. “My ability with magic is expanding at a prodigious pace, enough that I wouldn’t fear for my life against any but the lords of the great sins themselves in the lower planes. With a little time, I doubt that I’ll fear even them, so of course I’m staying here. Beyond that . . . I’m still trying to coax the woman teaching me into becoming a cultist. She doesn’t have much time left, and she’s more valuable than I can express.”
“That does explain things, Mistress. I do hope you’ll be safe, and I’m certain that your precious mortal will come around in time.” Vira spoke respectfully, bobbing her head. “I don’t understand, but I rarely do until I see your objective for myself. You do so love misdirection.”
“Take care of my palace, Vira.” Emonael smiled at Vira, allowing the image to fade before adding softly. “The thing is, if I did tell you, I give one in five odds that someone else would find out, and then I’d be in trouble. Marin’s more valuable to me than any of the precious angels that you lust after . . .”
Shaking her head, Emonael left Marin’s room and went back to prepare her copying, taking a sip of water to moisten her throat before casting the spell. With the first words of the book, the page of the new copy flipped to a new page as the ink swirled through the air in intricate patterns.
What amused Emonael about the spell more than anything else was that the pretty patterns were entirely unnecessary. When Marin had researched the spell, she’d simply included them, probably to keep from getting too bored.
Marin found her fingers were trembling as she wrote one word, then another. She was at the end, and she knew it. As she wrote the final word, penned the final period . . . she felt a strange swirl of emotions surge through her. Triumph and disdain for all of those who’d told her that what she wanted was impossible and that it couldn’t be done. Grief that the handful of those who’d believed her were all gone, save for Emonael herself. But above all, she felt simple relief that it was done. That the project that had consumed her for almost six centuries had finally come to an end, and that she hadn’t failed.
“Told you so, Nikara,” Marin murmured, slumping back in her chair. Her mind was almost gloriously blank, emptied of everything she’d been pouring out onto the pages over and over again. After a moment, she set the quill aside, not bothering to properly care for it for the first time in years, and as she looked out the window she saw the sun slowly settling toward the horizon.
Below the sun, barely visible due to the glare and angle, Marin could see Emonael and her students outside, discussing something. Near them was a pile of wood and iron scraps, which made Marin wonder what they were up to. Probably a construction spell of some type, but there was no way of knowing unless she went outside to check.
“Balvess . . . thank you. Thank you for helping grant me the courage and longevity to finish my work,” Marin murmured at last, raising her eyes to the sky. “I do have a few more experiments to perform, but I doubt that any of them will make a difference, as they’ll likely fail like so very many others did. Nine volumes should be enough.”
Her god didn’t respond, but she hadn’t expected him to. Instead, she pulled out the thread, glue and other supplies for binding her book. It was fortunate she didn’t have to actually do it by hand anymore, and Marin took a deep breath, murmuring the words of her spell, making the gestures, and the pages floated into the air, along with the other supplies. In moments, the pages were threaded together, the glue applied, and the cover placed on the volume. The time it took to cure was reduced to almost nothing, and in moments the book settled back down onto the desk, complete as it could be.
“There. My research . . . is complete.” Marin murmured, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
The sound of rapid footsteps, followed by the door of the library opening, caused her eyes to open, and Marin looked over her shoulder to see Emonael in the entrance, a couple of the students following her. The others looked confused, but Emonael focused on Marin, her voice coming quickly. “Teacher, I felt something . . . almost break around me. I’m not certain, but unless there was an enchantment on me that I didn’t know about . . .”
“No. I’m done, Emonael. This . . . this is the final volume. Only about three quarters of the pages are full, perhaps less, but it’s done,” Marin replied, smiling. “Remember, your oath about speaking of my research was only until I gave permission or I had completed my research. For good or ill, it’s done.”
“By all the heavens . . .” Emonael murmured, looking at Marin hopefully. “I thought that might be it, but I didn’t dare hope. How are you? You’ve been so consumed by things that I was worried.”
“You had every right to be. I’m spent, Emonael. Tired, relieved . . . and triumphant. I think Valis will deserve the first copy of this, if you don’t mind,” Marin said, gently picking up the book and offering it to her student. “The originals now belong to you, just as I promised.”
“W-what?” Christoff gasped out, his eyes going huge. “But you just barely finished it!”
“Yes, I did. I know the content of the codices, and I have the original research. It’ll always belong to Emonael in the end, this is just a bit early.” Marin told the flustered young man, smiling at him. “Remember, my goal was to finish the research, not to keep it to myself.”
“Thank you, Teacher. I’ll treasure them,” Emonael said, gently stroking the cover of the book, almost as though she didn’t believe it was real. “I’ll give the first copy to Valis, I promise.”
“If . . . if you’re done, does that mean you might be willing to come to the solstice celebration with us?” Nia asked, her voice hopeful. “It’s going to be at Maple Lake, and there’re going to be some vendors from out of town there as well.”
“The solstice is almost here?” Marin asked, blinking in surprise. “My, I truly lost track of time while writing, didn’t I? I wasn’t certain about anything other than it being summer.”
“The solstice is in three days, High Mage,” Uthar said, nodding at her. “We’d love to have you along with us. Your presence at the nightly gatherings has been missed.”
“I’d love to come along, but I’m afraid I have an experiment I intend to perform that evening,” Marin replied, smiling warmly at them. “So, until sunset, yes. After sunset, I’m returning here. It likely won’t result in anything at all, but I am who I am. Even with my research complete, I can’t help tinkering with new ideas.”
Emonael laughed at that, smiling broadly as she spoke, her tone warm as she nodded in return. “I wouldn’t appreciate you so much if you were anyone else, Teacher. Come on, it’s getting late, and maybe this time we can have your full attention at dinner for once.”
“As you like,” Marin conceded, taking a deep breath and letting it out, feeling almost free.
Chapter 31
“The town’s grown quite a bit since I last saw it,” Marin murmured, just barely loud enough that Emonael could hear her comment.
“Oh? When was the last time you were in town, High Mage?” Uthar asked from where he stood on the other side of Marin. Emonael had been about to ask something similar, but wasn’t too disappointed at being beaten to it, as it was the answer that mattered.
“I’m . . . no
t entirely certain. I think shortly after the Association was founded . . .” Marin replied slowly, seeming a little contemplative. “I’d guess four years? Every other time I’ve left, I bypassed the town, so I haven’t really seen it.”
“Oh, wow! I thought that going a few months was bad, but years . . .” Andrew exclaimed, looking around. “What’s changed, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“It isn’t imposing at all. For one, the garrison certainly wasn’t here, so the fort wasn’t around,” Marin told him, nodding back toward the small fort that the soldiers had built, complete with a couple of watchtowers and a palisade. “There weren’t as many homes, either. I’d guess the number has increased by nearly a quarter or more that I can see. The inn expanded, and added another floor, there are a couple of taverns . . . there’ve been a lot of changes. Though I suppose at least some of this could be that I didn’t notice the last time I was in town.”
“You do tend to forget about everything else when working,” Emonael teased softly, looking at the bustling town with new eyes.
In fact, it’d changed even in the time she’d been around. It startled her to think that she’d been at the Association for just over a year. Most of the town buildings were of fieldstone or squared off logs, but some of the newer ones were different, a few actually built with proper masonry! The latter wasn’t common yet, so she had to admire the wealth it showed. The presence of the Association was obviously a boon to the town’s income, and she could fully understand why Marin might have been startled by the changes.
The townsfolk were bustling about cheerfully as well. A dozen men and women were in a field having an archery contest where they were trying to hit targets hanging from a tree, made more difficult by the nearby mage creating gusts of wind to set them swaying and spinning. Emonael had heard something about a swimming contest where the contestants were supposed to circle the lake, which she couldn’t help but feel somewhat dubious about. There was no telling whether a nasty monster had taken up residence in the water, so she hoped that anyone participating had thought to have guards along to rescue the participants from danger.
From the bakery and other houses, Emonael could smell delectable scents, and she took a deep breath before asking. “Christoff? Do you know what it is that I’m smelling?”
“I don’t know everything, but Leah mentioned that they were making a lot of pies for today. Apricots, blueberries, cherries, plums, raspberries, and strawberries are in season,” he replied, licking his lips and looking slightly guilty. “I’m not entirely sure which ones go into pies, but just the thought of those sound good.”
“If you’re wanting any, it looks like a few farmers have set up a stall over there to sell their fruit,” Andrew suggested, nodding toward a stall near the town square. “My family didn’t have a large orchard, so I can’t tell you much, but that looks like pretty good produce to me.”
“Thanks for pointing it out!” Christoff replied, his eyes brightening as he asked, “Anyone want me to grab them something as a snack to tide them over?”
“Raspberries, please!” Nia quickly asked, opening her pouch to grab a small coin. Emonael smiled as a couple of others chimed in, including Marin.
“If you wouldn’t mind grabbing me a plum or two, I’d appreciate it. I haven’t had one in a while,” her teacher said, smiling as she added her own contribution.
“Right, so . . . some of pretty much everything,” Christoff said, nodding. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll come help you carry it,” Damiya said, laughing as she followed him.
“Doesn’t it seem like there are a few more people around than normal?” Emonael asked, peering around curiously, wondering why it felt more crowded than it should. “Even with the outlying homesteads, we shouldn’t have this many people, should we?”
“It’s another merchant caravan, come to sell trinkets and take advantage of the drunk young magi.” Uthar quickly explained, grinning. “I hear they also have a traveler with them that’s really unusual.”
“Oh?” Marin asked, looking at him and smiling. “What sort of traveler might that be?”
“No one has actually seen the lady, as she’s always swathed in veils from head to foot, but I hear that she’s dragon-kin,” Uthar explained, his eyes bright in excitement. “I’ve never seen one of them, but I’ve heard tales!”
“A dragon-kin this far north?” Marin’s eyebrows rose, and Emonael couldn’t help blinking as well. “Is she on her own?”
“What’s a dragon-kin?” Nia asked, and the group paused near the edge of the town square, watching the bustle of people in the center of town.
There were several stalls set up, but the village head and a few assistants were keeping most of the space clear for the dancing for later. Meanwhile, the man was carefully building what would be the bonfire for that evening, Emonael imagined.
Emonael had to force herself to shrug as if puzzled in response to Nia’s question, and looked at Marin as she spoke. “I only know a couple of bits about them, but it sounds like you know far more than I do, Teacher.”
“Perhaps I do, but ‘far more’ is a very relative term, Emonael,” Marin told Emonael dryly, shaking her head, then looking at Nia as she began her explanation. “Dragon-kin are said to have been born to dragons who were trapped in mortal form due to warped magic. They look much like humans in form, but their skin is very different, as it’s made up of miniscule scales that can only be made out if you look closely. While they have hair much like us, their eyes are draconic and they’re individually more powerful than almost any other mortal race, at least baseline. Even more impressively, they have some of the innate power of dragons within them, granting them a magical talent at least equal to that of Christoff for all of them.”
“Oh!” Nia said, her eyes going wide.
“Why’re you surprised that one’s in the area, High Mage?” Andrew asked, and winced as Nia hit him in the arm. “Hey!”
“I was going to ask that, but you interrupted!” Nia protested.
“It doesn’t matter who asked. I’m going to answer anyway, so be nice,” Marin chided them, smiling. “I’m surprised because dragon-kin tend to be quite insular and proud. They don’t like traveling among other races, believing their draconic blood and ancestry makes them superior to others. There are always exceptions, but they’re rare. Also, while they’re not cold-blooded like the serpentfolk, they far prefer warmer climates, so seeing them this far north is surprising. If this one is here alone, it makes me very curious as to what drew them here.”
“All the rumors I’ve heard only say that one is in the area,” Uthar added, looking intrigued. “I’d heard some of it, but I’ve also heard other tales, like that if they make a promise, they cannot break it.”
“That’s just a tale. Dragon-kin are largely exceedingly honorable, and despise those who break bargains, so they’re slow to make promises, and generally will move heaven and earth to ensure they keep their word,” Marin explained, shrugging as she added. “My time at one of their enclaves was . . . difficult. I was very politely asked to leave after healing the patriarch in question, as my presence was considered problematic. They kept their part of the bargain, though.”
“I do hope that you don’t hold it against them,” a deep voice interjected, and Emonael looked over at the speaker and felt her eyebrows rise.
The human man was taller than her by a handspan, with dark, almost black skin and eyes like burnished copper, and his head was bare of hair. He had broad shoulders, and the frame beneath the lacquered crimson scale mail hinted at an impressive physique that she definitely appreciated.
“I do not . . . though I see that Uthar was incorrect about there being only one dragon-kin,” Marin observed, nodding politely as she spoke to him. “You are dragon-sworn, are you not?”
“I am Sir Calda Dragonsworn,” the man replied, smiling as he nodded his head. “From your words, I suspect that you must be High Mage Marin the Traveler.”
&
nbsp; “You are correct. I am pleased to meet you, Sir Calda.” Marin bowed her head slightly, but Emonael could see the faint wariness about her teacher.
Seeing that Nia was about to speak, Emonael caught her student’s eye and shook her head, taking a step back, noticing the small swirl of onlookers, and how people were giving their group plenty of space. They were likely worried about a conflict breaking out.
“And I you. Milady consulted the stars some months ago, and her Lord spoke to her, telling her to come north to seek you out,” Calda began speaking, his voice formal. “We have done so, and she wishes to speak with you in private, if you are willing.”
“I see. May I ask if this is in regards to the request that was made before my exit from the Sanguine Enclave some years past?” Marin asked politely, seeming to relax ever so slightly.
“I believe it does. That she came so far should tell you much about her sincerity, and that of her Lord,” Calda said, a slight hint of a frown on his face.
“If that is the case, I must decline, Sir Calda,” Marin spoke softly but firmly. “My faith is yet unshaken, and my purpose complete. I will not abandon all that I have known for a new allegiance in my twilight years.”
“You . . .” Calda seemed honestly stunned, his voice trailing off in confusion.
“What’s going on?” Andrew whispered behind Emonael.
Nia’s voice was just as quiet. “I have no idea, but he sounds like Dad did whenever someone refused an offer he thought was impossible to refuse.”
Their words caused a glimmer of suspicion to grow within Emonael, but she didn’t say anything, just watching Calda with growing uncertainty. The man took a deep breath, then spoke again.
“Are you quite certain you won’t even meet with My Lady?” he asked, unable to suppress the note of anger in his voice. “She came an extremely long way to see you.”
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