"He's given us a babysitter." Fletcher was pacing the room like a spitting tomcat. Well, more like a large clumsy bovine, Blayre thought as her friend and counterpart did nothing to mask the sound of his heavy footfalls on the wooden floor. It was unusual to see the fun loving young man so out of sorts. So livid.
Just days before, Holt had sat the three of them down in his office and briefed them on their next assignment. It seemed the King had heard whisperings of illegal dealings involving unmarked mages. Big dealings - with exorbitant amounts of gold being exchanged. And those in question were extremely difficult to apprehend because of their ties to foreign mages.
It was still illegal for foreign mages to enter Emarian soil unmarked - but politics and alliances or tenuous relations with other countries sometimes allowed them to be overlooked. It didn't due to start a war unnecessarily. But it made for tricky work where the Seeker's were involved.
Holt had explained illegal dealings were for objects that could propel magic. Weapons that could be used by non-magic wielders. The same that Blayre had heard of that night in the Dragon Room.
The King wanted to know where they were coming in. Mages had to be involved - how else would they be enchanted. But the intricacies of what they were and how they worked were still unknown. It seemed to Blayre that they were rare and perhaps difficult to produce or transport - otherwise Emares would be riddled with the weapons.
"Fletch, it will be fine." Ainslee said calmly, tightening the drawstring on one of her bags. The three had met in Ainslee's room after Holt had made his decision regarding their involvement in the trip to Port Roubeles. A decision that included sending Nuala along with them to "provide additional support."
It wasn't that Blayre minded Nuala - the woman was an excellent mentor and extremely experienced. But it did seem like a waste of resources to remove the seasoned seeker from her post as trainer in order to oversee three graduated and capable Seekers. It also seemed a lot like undermining the royal family.
"Nuala is a good mentor - has always been a good mentor. It will be wonderful to have her with us." Blayre added, though the words were saturated with the bitterness of a half-lie. Inside she felt much as Fletcher was outwardly expressing.
"I wonder if she welcomes the opportunity to travel somewhere warmer, or if she has grown accustomed to her living situation here in the Capital." Ainslee mused.
Blayre just shrugged. It made no difference. After over a week of deliberation, Holt had made his choice. Last minute at that, so there was less time to argue it. No time for her to go to Rory with their objection.
Not that it mattered. It didn't matter. Fletcher was getting her more worked up over it than she needed to be.
"If she wanted to travel somewhere warmer, I'm sure she would have volunteered to leave her nice cozy training job by now." Fletcher snarled, his brown hair falling into his eyes as he halted abruptly in front of Ainslee's bedroom window.
"Fletch, enough!" Blayre snapped. "What's done is done." She fixed him with her gaze, golden eyes meeting his dark ones, then collapsed into Ainslee's armchair with a sigh. And to think, a little over a week ago she had been thrilled that the two members of her Triad had returned.
Massaging her temples, Blayre squeezed her eyes shut. The frustrations of the past week had seeped into her bones, and threatened to spill over and drown her. Despite the return of her triad, Ripley had continued to work with her on trying to find the assailants. With no luck.
Twelve hells, it was frustrating. And in a few days they would leave the city and be back out in the open, and Rory would be in increased danger once more.
****
Blayre and her group readied themselves in the service courtyard, while the sun barely peeked over the eastern side of the palace wall - glaringly bright in it's half-risen state, but spreading a warm glow of pinks and oranges throughout the blue sky above. Good weather. Blayre observed. It can stay that way. She did not wish a repeat of her last trip with the crazed mountain storm that she had encountered.
The group would join Rory and company in the Royal Courtyard once their horses were tacked up, and pick up further supplies there as well.
"All set?" Nuala asked, leaning around her bay mare to meet the eyes of her flock, as she had called Blayre and her triad yesterday - much to Fletcher's distaste.
Blayre nodded to her, not feeling like speaking just yet.
Dark shadows cast by the bright sun, shifted with them in the courtyard as they led their horses through the courtyard in the early morning quiet. Hooves thudded ever-so-softly on the packed dirt and grass. Dew drops collected on Blayre's boots, and her stomach growled as she caught a whiff of breakfast smell coming from the dining hall.
She wished she could have had at least one more full meal before hitting the road, but breakfast was not served this early so they would have to settle for a quick bite right before they left.
She wondered if they would make Rory eat road provisions before leaving as well, but concluded that he'd probably had a full course meal, Ripley too.
A gate was opened and they were let through to the main courtyard. A dispersing fog blanketed the ground as Blayre surveyed the group before her for familiar faces. Rory had not come out yet. She didn't see Ripley either, though it was too much to hope that he had changed his mind and wasn't coming. Separating him from the duke was like removing a limb it seemed - only happening when extreme circumstances deemed it necessary.
"Why, there's a face I didn't expect to see here."
Blayre's head snapped around, and Dove, sensing her mistress's startelement, pranced in place. Blayre whispered soothingly to the mare, pulling slightly on the reins from where she stood beside her horse, anchoring Dove to the ground.
Midnight eyes crinkled at the edges in a smile. Caval. Now that was unexpected. That they would send such a valuable asset to the crown said that the King was taking no chances on his nephew's life, that he really wanted this mission to succeed, or both.
She hadn't sensed him either - which she supposed made sense. He was one of the most well-trained mages in the realm. There was no reason for him to be leaking like a novice.
Not like Ripley. Untrained. Unmarked.
"Sorcerer Caval. How wonderful to have the pleasure of seeing you again." She nodded stiffly.
He returned her frostiness with a warm smile - a dazzlingly white against his darker face. "You never told me you were a Seeker, when we met at the Dragon Room." He accused, but his tone was warm.
"It never came up." Blayre said gruffly.
She glanced to her friends. Ainslee's eyebrows were raised in question, and Fletcher was tensed as if ready to tackle the sorcerer should he make a wrong move toward Blayre.
Nuala meandered out of the stables, eyes fixed on a parchment in her hand, "Well crew, we are just waiting on a couple more important pieces to our puzzle and then we can be off." She turned, glancing between the seekers and Caval. "Sorcerer Caval. Pleasure to work with you on this mission."
"The pleasure is mine, Seeker Nuala." Caval dipped his head, hands tucked behind his back. Blayre noted that despite mutual southern and commoner roots, Caval's speech was far more cultured than that Nuala's.
Nuala nodded and continued over to her horse where Ainslee handed over the reins.
Rory and Ripley appeared shortly after. Blayre held back a sigh - it would have been altogether too much to ask for Ripley to have stayed back. Mages. Marked or no it seemed they were all destined to be irritating to her. Her eyes narrowed though, at the woman who walked out behind them, black tresses contrasting against her jade-green jacket. Lady Alessa.
This time though, Alessa's eyes were not trained on Ripley but on Rorrick.
"Your grace." Blayre, bowed to Rorrick, her counterparts doing the same. She straightened before Alessa walked by leaving behind the scent of orchids.
"Betcha a silver piece she won't smell that pretty by the end of the week." Fletcher muttered in her ear.
Blayre snorted suppressing laughter. "I'll give it less time than that, judging by our itinerary." She replied, gritting her teeth as not one of the grooms but Rorrick cupped his hands so Alessa could step into them with a brown-booted foot to mount her bay horse. It left a sour taste in her mouth. In her time with Rorrick he had never seemed the type to be attracted to the more helpless variety of woman. Then again, she had hardly spent that much time with him. He's probably just being chivalrous.
With the arrival of the duke, their remaining party was complete and they moved out to the Road South.
Blayre couldn't help but feel relief once they had left the crowded city for the open fields and rolling hills of the countryside. Her Sense had been on high alert, straining to detect any magic. She felt both more secure and more conspicuous all at once in a larger group. Relief came in the form of shared responsibility.
The grass was soft and springy beneath Dove's hooves, and the horses around them kicked up dewdrops and bits of grass as they moved through the countryside. Blayre breathed in deeply of misty spring morning - crushed grass, warm soil and floral scents. Puffy white clouds were set against a lavender morning sky that faded into molten gold where they touched the sphere of the now risen sun.
Blayre looked ahead to where Rory's head glinted a fiery copper in the filtered sunlight. He'd barely spoken a word to her all morning, and she suppressed the impulse to urge Dove forward to catch up with him and his blood-bay gelding.
But beside him was Lady Alessa, laughing musically to his right, waves of ebony bouncing against her back with the movements of her horse. Rorrick's hands moved animatedly as he spoke to her.
Ripley to his left sat his horse stiffly straight backed. Blayre couldn't tell if he was annoyed by Alessa and Rory's interactions, or just cranky as usual.
She wasn't surprised when Caval dropped back to ride beside her, his magic tingling on her senses as he used it to dry the damp from his overcoat.
Frivolous use of magic.
He turned to her, raising his eyebrows and waving his hands suggesting he do the same for her. Blayre waved him off. It was too early for vocalizing.
Caval cleared his throat. "Beautiful morning."
It was. The colors in the sky were gradually morphing from soft purples to warm pinks and oranges of pure sunrise, the heat seeping warmth into her layers of travelwear.
"Indeed." Was all she said, glancing around for Ainslee or Fletcher to rescue her from the unwanted attention.
"How does someone from the mountains feel about traveling to the southern port?" The question was casual, but Blayre was still unreasonably piqued by the undesired morning conversation.
"I actually prefer warmth." She said, her gaze still transfixed on the back of Rory's head as he laughed with one of the soldiers, and though she could feel the weight of Caval's gaze on her.
"Well then you would like the southern continent." He nodded surely.
Despite herself, she perked up "You've been there?" She knew he had southern heritage, but had assumed like Nuala that his father had been a southern sailor or vagrant of some sort who had fallen for an Emarian woman.
He laughed, a rich musical sound. "Of course. I was born there."
"Born there? Forgive me, Caval - but you don't sound like..."
"Call me Cav - this will be a long trip." It was more than a suggestion. "I was born there, and I have family there, though I grew up in Port Roubeles for most of my earlier years before my magic was discovered. My father is northern." He said, answering the question Blayre felt too uncomfortable to ask. "He felt there were better opportunities for me here." She detected a note of wistfulness in his voice.
"Well, perhaps someday I'll get there. Though I admit my list of places to visit is growing quite rapidly as of late." She said, her glance returning to the Duke's broad-shouldered back.
"A wandering soul." Cav flashed another of his plentiful grins at her. "A good quality in someone of your position."
She smiled and nodded. It was. She'd had more opportunities than she could count to see the world - at least on Emarian soil. She had never been a homebody - perhaps that was because she had never had a pleasant experience at home. Instead she dreamed of living a wandering life, never remaining in one place for too long. The thought of being anchored to one spot again was enough to send a thrill of nervous panic through her.
And she felt as though wherever she went - it became a part of her. A piece that could never be removed. From the snow-peaked Airgean Mountains to the balmy southern shores, they were all a part of her. She wanted to keep building and growing upon that wanderlust, never satisfied.
****
Warm sunlight shone down, turning the ocean water into diamond encrusted turquoise waves that crashed rhythmic against the cliffside with a powerful woosh.
Blayre could feel the salty mist on her face as she leaned against one of the rails, people passing close enough behind her on the cobbled street that the back of her tunic ruffled as they passed by. She would never get enough of the ocean, even if she lived in this city. She'd been born in the wrong part of the kingdom, Blayre thought, fingering her sigil ring, the sapphires glinting in the harsh sunlight.
Ripley stood to her left, not facing the ocean, but scowling across the crowd at Rorrick, who was laughing at a stall with Lady Alessa close at hand.
Blayre gave the unmarked mage a comforting pat on the arm. They had developed a mutual level of understanding - if it could be considered that. Though Blayre couldn't tell the reason for Ripley's added moodiness when it came to Rorrick and Alessa. Was it because he had been trying to court Alessa? Or was it that he didn't trust Alessa around his friend?
Either way, Blayre knew she wished Alessa would turn her attentions elsewhere. Even knowing that Rorrick would never court someone of Blayre's lower social stature. She still thought he could do better than Alessa. The girl had been difficult through the entire ride. She was now awaiting her father, Emarian Ambassador to the Southern Isles, to arrive in port.
Ainslee and Fletcher joined them, the latter licking his fingers from whatever street food he had purchased that day. "You do know the inn provides a perfectly acceptable breakfast." Ripley said to the other man, wrinkling his nose.
"Yes, but nothing beats the Port Roubeles street vendors." Fletcher replied, grinning through a mouthful of food. Blayre exchanged a glance with Ainslee, one dark eyebrow raised in amusement.
"I feel like all we've had for the past couple of weeks has been street food." Blayre put in. The food at the inn that morning had been a welcome change from the previous fare of bland porridge, dried meat and fruits, or whatever they had been able to find or catch.
She had been disappointed to see that Alessa had not so much as batted an eye at the first bowl of bland mush she had been served. But she still thought the woman was soft. And an idiot for dressing in all that finery she had worn on the road. It had been wet and rainy most of the way, and Blayre was sure that most of Alessa's delicate wardrobe was beyond repair. Though she supposed Alessa was the type to use her money on frivolous things like mage-cleaning of her accoutrement. Lesser mages who were without enough magical ability to be noticed by The Crown, often made a living by performing charms for simple tasks for a fee.
"Seeker Fletcher," Rory's voice rumbled to them as he approached. "Blayre says you know a good many places in the city. Any recommendations?"
"What do you have interest in, your grace?"
"I would love to see some foreign clothing styles. I told many of my court friends that I would bring home something. " Piped in Alessa before Rorrick had a chance to reply.
Fletcher appeased her, though Blayre would have throttled the woman. "Well, my lady, there are plenty of shops that sell fine clothing. A shop called Entemenn's, is not far from here and they sell the finest imported goods from The Southern Isles to The Northern Wildlands. And not just clothing - they have something for everyone there." He waggled his eyebrows at Blayre, who kept her face neutral and impassive.
Entmenn's was located on one of the more eclectic strips of the Port Roubeles market district. The shops here were full of imported goods for those looking for something a bit more unique than the standard imported goods.
Blayre observed some of the other shoppers around them in the street, wondering exactly why Fletcher had suggested this particular area to bring the upper class nobles. They ranged from well dressed Emarians to shabby looking travelers. Alessa's lips were pursed, nostrils flaring, giving Blayre the impression that she was doing her best to take in quick shallow breaths as they walked past incense and other more questionable combustibles.
Blayre sneezed, feeling lightheaded. Though stubbornly reluctant to show any sympathy toward Alessa, she hoped that they wouldn't linger here long.
They stopped at a colorful brick walled shop with large store windows made of some sort of iridescent glass that changed color in the different angles of the bright sun.
Blayre was thrilled to find that the shop provided a relief to the heavy air around them. She took in long, deep breaths through her nose, glad that the impulse to cough and sneeze was quickly receding, the longer she was out of the strong incense.
"Moon and Sun, I'm glad to be out of that smoke, aren't you?" Alessa complained, coughing delicately.
Blayre turned to throw the other woman a glower, but stopped herself. She had to cease being so unreasonable. "I am... so glad." She replied, taking in a slow, deep breath.
Alessa smiled, teeth a flash of white pearls. "Now, let's shop." She grabbed Blayre by the arm.
And that's the last time I try to make peace with someone I don't want to associate. She thought. Unless it's for a job.
She allowed herself to be dragged about the expansive shop, while Ainslee put on her most bubbly persona, and took on the role of encouraging friend.
"Oh yes, those chiffon pants, with that blouse." The redhead was saying. Blayre looked at the price tag on one of the items and nearly passed out. She looked to Ainslee to voice her exasperation, but her friend was in an animated discussion with Alessa while they ogled over some sort of soft sheer fabric.
She took the moment of escape, moving fluidly through the racks of clothing over to the far end of the shop where Rorrick and Fletcher were standing in a tight circle with the man Blayre assumed was the shop owner. She passed by Ripley, who stood stiffly at the front of the shop, arms folded across his chest.
Ever the guard dog. She thought. Though there wasn't much about the unmarked mage's demeanor that resembled a dog.
Rorrick and Fletcher were murmuring in hushed tones with Entemenn himself. Blayre stood on tiptoe to peer over Fletcher's broad shoulder. "What are we looking at?" She whispered.
The object was oddly shaped - made from several round metal tubes, and with a hilt that was welded to the tubes at an odd angle. Blayre tilted her head to get a better look. She supposed that if one gripped the hilt and held her arm straight out, the metal tubes would be pointed straight forward.
"It's a magic-flinger." Fletcher whispered back, raising his bushy eyebrows at her, his eyes widened. Rorrick and Entemenn had moved away from them toward the counter, where the shop owner was placing the strange object into a safe box.
Her heart jumped in her chest. Fluttering like a caged bird. But then she took a deep breath and felt. She hated break it to him, but she hadn't sensed any magic coming off the thing. Though perhaps there hadn't been enough to feel the residue of the magic. But if that were the case, then what was the point of an object that couldn't pack enough power to fling anything?
And it wasn't as if she could break it to him anyway. Fletcher wasn't privy to her secret. Though she at times wondered how someone could be so close to her and not suspect something was amiss. She pushed down the shard of guilt.
"'Magic-flinger'?" Blayre asked, a hint of amusement in her voice. "That's truly the name?" She snorted softly.
"They have a different name in the Southern Seas." Rory's husky voice spoke up then. "But not one that Entemenn was able to pronounce."
Bad move for a man who was charged with selling the things - they'd be far more marketable with more sophisticated name than "magic-flinger". Perhaps he was relying on their rarity.
Or perhaps he was trying to draw less attention to something illegal. But then, why show it to the Duke?
"You're not going to purchase it, your grace?" Ripley stepped up from somewhere behind Blayre.
"Why would I?" Rorrick asked. "It doesn't seem very useful, not when I have mages to fling magic as it is." He winked. Ripley's face paled a bit, and Rory gave him a firm pat on the back. "Besides, it's not for sale."
Still, Blayre noticed the duke's eyes straying back to the shop counter as they exited the shop minutes later. She was certain they would be back.