by Brian Keller
Almost as if he’d read Cooper’s thoughts, Master Worthan stood and thanked the boys for their information and told Kolrem, “You go on to bed, if your roommates will allow it. I’ll need to take up a bit more of Mister Cooper’s time, but there’s no need to keep you longer. Kolrem looked at Cooper, who nodded. Master Worthan broke the silence, “Good night, Mister Kolrem.”
Master Worthan waited several seconds after Kolrem left the room before he spoke. When he did, there was no amusement in his voice, “You Channeled.” It was not a question. “Yes, sir. I did. And if circumstances repeated themselves, I’d do it again. Master Brais was fighting for his life, and losing.” He held his head proudly. “Master Brais had his back turned, facing two opponents, so he couldn’t have seen me. All the rest are dead.” Master Worthan raised an eyebrow, “The newly freed citizens aren’t.” This brought Cooper to an abrupt silence. He wondered, “Could any of them have seen me?” He replied, “Doubtful. And even if they had, how would they know to distinguish that from normal Manifested speed?” Master Worthan shrugged, “Perhaps, perhaps not. But that isn’t why I’ve asked you to stay behind.” He turned back to the book he had been reading and opened it to his recently placed marker, “I mentioned Felis had been here today. He brought me this.” He placed his hands on the book. When Cooper made no move to lean forward to examine it, the old man continued, “There is evidence that magic use leaves traces, like a residual layer. The materials I have read refer to this as an “imprint”. There are some mages that have certain ‘sensitivities’ that not only allow them sense magic as it’s being used, but also allows them to detect these imprints. Felis knows about this as well since he either reads the reports and studies before bringing them to me, or he simply copies them. He likely understands as much about our Gift as I do, for that same reason. Well, perhaps he understands a bit less, considering some of the information you’ve revealed to me. I doubt he fully understands the reasons for my interest, but he’s intelligent enough that he’s surely begun to suspect.
Regarding the studies on these magical imprints, it seems the power of them fades over time based on the ‘saturation’ or exposure to magic. I have no idea how long or what level of exposure is required to leave an imprint, but there is an aspect to this phenomenon that is of particular interest to us. Our Gift causes us to leave a specific imprint, a signature of sorts. I mention this in conjunction with an earlier conversation we had, about our Gift. There are some in this world that wish to extinguish people like us. This leads me to give you an additional note of caution, realizing you have not yet Manifested; the more often you Channel, and the stronger the act, the chance of discovery increases.” He paused to further arrange his thoughts. Cooper remained silently attentive. Master Worthan continued, “I do not know from what distance magic usage is detectable. I’m sure that largely depends on the mage attempting to detect it, but most references indicate that the mage would need to be in close proximity, or even standing in the same room or, in the case of an imprint, actually holding the imprinted object. The research that Felis has recently provided suggests that it’s possible, even plausible, that a significant enough event might be detectable from a greater distance.” Master Worthan waited several seconds for the information to sink in before he added, “I must impress upon you the potential risks of Channeling. You endanger more than just yourself.”
Chapter 12
Iona had been wakened by a knock on her door, “Just a moment!” Then under her breath, “I have no idea what the hour is, but I’m pretty sure the only people that are awake are fishermen, blacksmiths and bakers. All the other reasonable people are still in bed.” She opened the door and was greeted by her sour-faced professor. She congratulated herself on her earlier observation. He spoke, “Time to rise. We are going to Miller’s Flats, and then elsewhere.” She ran her fingers through her hair as an impromptu comb, “Elsewhere, sir? Where?” He sniffed. His features remained impassive, “That is what we’re going to Miller’s Flats to find out.”
*****
All this agitation would surely have a negative effect on his healing. Jarell had been awakened to the news that the warehouse in the Waterfront District had been raided as well as the flophouse in Batter’s Field. To add to that bit of unpleasantness, the fact that the slaves were missing as well left him in a near panic. “This requires more than damage control,” he thought, “I need to replace those slaves… quickly.” He paused to get his breathing under control. He felt that it might help to stand up and pace back and forth a bit, but his wound was still closing. Walking always made it weep and bleed again. As he fidgeted, letting his legs dangle off the side off a divan, he reached a decision, “Alright, I’ll simply need to move another wagon load in today, unload them, but keep them for no longer than overnight and move them again immediately. That’ll keep everything on schedule, but I can’t use that warehouse anymore… Think… think!!” He stood and took a few steps, assisted with his cane, “There are plenty of abandoned buildings in Batter’s Field. I’ll simply order a crew to secure one for overnight usage as a drop off point, and then they can take them the rest of the way tomorrow. I just need to think of where in Batter’s Field to send them. It’ll need to be away from the Houses. Some of them might still have some love for the Guild, despite my efforts at dividing them.” Jarell made his way to a desk, where he pulled out a map and had begun to unroll it when his new houseman entered the room to report, “Sir, you have guests.” Jarell stiffened. As he used the cane to assume a more erect posture, the map rolled itself back up. The houseman elaborated as Jarell turned, answering the question that would come next, “The pair from the University, sir. Shall I show them in?” Jarell turned to face him and put a generous smile on his face, “Of course. Thank you. Once they’re seated, bring tea.”
Once the three of them were seated in Jarell’s receiving room, he asked, “Have you eaten?” Before Iona could reply, the professor answered for both of them, “We should not take the time to break our fast. Thank you just the same. Any imprints fade with each passing minute.” Jarell gently set his cup back onto its saucer, “Imprints?” The professor nodded as he continued, “A few hours ago, my student detected a strange magical anomaly, probably to the north. It’s most likely the person you’ve mentioned to us, so I thought to bring this information to you. To gain any further insights that you might have before we begin our search.” Jarell’s expression indicated that further explanation was needed. “We’ve found that magic leaves traces. She is able to sense these traces, or imprints, and glean bits of information from them.” While the professor had been speaking, Iona couldn’t help but sense the energy in the room. Before she’d arrived, her host had been agitated and in fact he still was. As a result he was now unable to conceal his Talent from her. Even though he wasn’t actively using any power she could read the power around him. He had a powerful affinity for Air. He could increase his speed tremendously and while he certainly wouldn’t be capable of flight, she wouldn’t be at all surprised to discover that he could jump far higher and farther than most. In his uninjured state, that is. He also had some affinity for Earth, or perhaps it was Nature, but this ability was less detectable. This might be due to the fact that he’d not used it for quite some time.
As for Jarell, his mind had begun racing as he thought, “A few hours ago? To the north?” It took him no time at all to reach the conclusion that Cooper was likely involved in the raids and had used his magic. This is likely what this girl had detected. Instead he asked, “What kind of information? Does she see visions? Hear voices? Can she track the person back to their location?” The professor looked at her and gave her a nod in Jarell’s direction, indicating that he was giving her permission to answer the question. She set her teacup down, “It isn’t anything so definitive as that. It’s more like getting a sense of the person, and the power they use is a signature of sorts. Everyone’s signature is unique. The more familiar I become with a particular person, the more sens
itized I become. With enough familiarity, it might be possible to pick them out of a crowd but it doesn’t work like a compass, leading me across town to stand before them.” Jarell nodded, “I might know the place you’re looking for. One of my… interests was attacked last night. It is in the Waterfront District. I’ll have one of my men lead you to it. Are you prepared to leave immediately?” The professor nodded, “We need only make one stop back to the University. There are a few others there now that will accompany us.” Jarell nodded and signaled to his houseman, who bowed his head and quickly withdrew from the room. Jarell picked up his teacup and took a sip. He wrinkled his nose and set it back onto the table, “It is fine tea, but still not as pleasant once it has begun to cool.” Iona had resumed drinking her tea at the same time. It still tasted fine to her.
It took only a couple of minutes before a man in brigandine armor entered the room. The leather at the joints of his suit creaked as he moved, indicating that the suit was either new or very well maintained. The man approached and assumed a position of attention and bowed his head momentarily. “Sir”, he announced, “You sent for me?” Jarell turned in his seat to face the man, “Yes, I did. Accompany these two to the University where they’ll be joined by others, then lead them to the Warehouse in the Waterfront.” The man’s head came up and his expression one of confusion and incredulity. He visibly hesitated. It was obvious that he was trying to mentally come to grips with conflicting thoughts, “Excuse me, sir. Do you mean the warehouse?” Jarell made a small show of controlling his impatience, “Yes. Of course. The warehouse that was raided during the night. Shall I find another that is capable of following simple instructions?” The man quickly bowed his head again, “No, sir. I am your man.” A hint of desperation had entered his voice. Jarell turned to face Iona and the professor again, “Very well, here is your guide.” As his guard stepped to join them, Jarell had another thought. He spoke to his mercenary, “If they don’t find what they’re looking for in the warehouse, take them to the house in Batter’s Field. If they do find what they’re looking for in the warehouse, then there’s no need to lead them any further.” The man replied crisply, “Yes, sir.” Jarell arched an eyebrow and took on the tone of a reprimanding parent, “Do I need to make any of those instruction more clear?” The man replied again, just as crisply, “No, sir. I have it.” Jarell gave him a dismissive wave, “Very well. Report back to me once you’ve taken them through their search and returned them to the University.” He then turned back to Iona and the professor, “Thank you for stopping by. I wish you every success in your search.” His smile was pleasant, and perhaps even a little bit genuine.
At the University, they met up with the other mages of the hunting party. Iona made an effort to avoid looking at the trimmings on their robes and tried to read each of them in turn. Emmit had joined their party. There was no need to try reading him. She already knew he was a healer, Talented in both Nature and Earth. She quickly moved on to the others. One of the mages was all Fire, and powerfully so by today’s standards. With enough practice, she might even be capable of throwing fire one day but she’d likely be approaching old age by the time she’d developed her Talent to that point. Another was Air mixed with Earth, which was an unusual mix in and of itself. Both his affinities were fairly powerful but Air was his primary. Iona wondered whether it had to do with the fact that his Air talent was expressed externally, so people could see it. The other member was less clear, Nature certainly but seemingly it expressed itself in more than one way. She could sense that she was powerful, quite powerful in fact, but that was all. Once her assessment was complete, she then looked at the cuffs of their sleeves and noted the colors of the trimmings with a brief sense of satisfaction.
As they entered the Trade Quarter, they arranged themselves as if they had already discussed it. She and the professor found themselves in the center of the group and Jarell’s Lieutenant, as he called himself, was in the lead. The fire mage and obscure Nature mage were next in line with the Air/Earth mage and Emmit to the back. They drew strange looks from the guardsmen on the North Bridge as they passed, but the men saved any comments they had for after the group was out of earshot.
Once they’d walked along the docks for a few minutes the lieutenant stopped and pointed at a building, “That’s the one. I’ll stay out here and keep watch.” He observed the people walking along the boardwalk, several had stopped to watch what was going on. It was a rare thing to see a group from the University so far from home. Unbeknownst to all in attendance, Lash had taken a seat on the edge of the dock with a fishing pole in hand. If anyone demanded that he raise his line from the water it would reveal he was fishing with a bait-less, hook-less lead weight. His very large-brimmed hat protected him from the morning sun and largely obscured his view, as well as anyone’s view of him. He appeared to pay only passing interest to the proceedings but it was very likely that no details escaped his attention.
Iona and the others went in inside the warehouse. She immediately walked to the rear of the building, avoiding a few spots where blood had soaked into the ground. Once she was there, she was drawn to the axe in the corner like steel to a magnet. As she knelt down and grasped the weapon there was no doubt, this item was linked to the event she’d felt earlier. She stood, turned and held the axe aloft, “This is what we’ve come for. Unmistakably.” She then looked around her, observing what was here in the warehouse, how it was arranged, the odors, the lingering sensations. She began to form a clearer picture of what had transpired here. Her professor quickly closed the distance between them, his voice eager with anticipation for her description, “And? What can you detect from it? Any sense of the Talent? Or of the person?” This broke her concentration and the sensations were gone. She felt irritated at being interrupted and nearly let her feelings be known, but caught herself and simply shook her head, “Nothing like that. The source of the power is unclear. I don’t detect any element in the usual sense, only that it granted the person a tremendous amount of energy, most likely taking the effect of increased speed.” The professor tilted his head as he asked, “Why do you say speed? Perhaps it was strength?” She shook her head, “I don’t think so, sir.” He pressed with further questions, “Why do you say that? Do you feel it with any certainty?” She shook her head again, “No feeling, sir. Just seems that if the amount of power I’m feeling resulted in strength we likely would’ve found a hole in the wall, and this axe would be outside somewhere.”
As they departed, she still had the axe in hand as they walked south back toward the Trade Quarter and beyond to the University. The fisherman sitting on the dock still hadn’t caught a fish. In fact, once they’d walked out of sight he set down his pole, placed his hat down beside it and walked south.
Chapter 13
For the last few months, Yoren Aporigh had increasing concerns regarding the Lord General. The spymaster’s concerns stemmed mostly from the vigor with which the Lord General served the Royal family. Surely a man like that must have a considerable thirst for power and had determined the safest way of obtaining it was by remaining diligent and unflinching as he performed each and every task. The Lord General had long ago captured the Prince’s attention and the Prince had come to trust and rely on him. Yoren worried that at some point, Hennit Arkady might, some day, earn that which he had long strived to obtain. Wealth and a noble title, and not necessarily in that order of importance. For the last few weeks, Yoren had been making subtle suggestions within hearing of some of the other counselor’s aides that the Lord General was dissatisfied with progress against the Guild; that he’d begun to chafe at the limitations placed upon him and the fact that he wondered whether he still truly commanded the armies of the province. It became apparent that the Prince had finally heard these whispers when, at a scheduled Council meeting the Prince spoke to his assembled counselors, “People, and populations in general, act predictably. Wars and rebellions are never started over what someone has. They are started because someone, or a popul
ation, wants something that it doesn’t have. To distill it down to its base elements, the cause for conflicts of this nature is dissatisfaction.” The Prince paused to see that he still held everyone’s attention and then looked at the Lord General, “Hennit, do I have any reason to feel concerned about your satisfaction?” Lord General Hennit Arkady looked so taken aback that it took a few seconds for him to form a reply. “My Prince, I have only striven to bring honor to your family every day of my service. I remember well the day that your esteemed father entrusted rulership of the province to you. After the ceremony he took me aside and extracted an oath from me. On that day he promoted me from Captain in his army to General in yours. That was the proudest day in my life, with the next being the day you made me your Lord General. In answer to your question, My Lord, I can only assume someone has been dripping honey-coated lies into your ear.” With the last words of this statement, the Lord General looked directly at the Spymaster. The Lord General then turned his eyes back to the Prince and continued, “The fact that I have risen to the rank of Lord General is a greater honor than someone of my low birth could have ever imagined. The trust that you place in me, and continue to place in me, has always been humbling.” He paused for a breath and looked around the room, “You always listen to my counsel and consider my views. There may be days when I feel frustrated, but on those days I am relieved to have a supportive wife to help me keep things in perspective. A loving wife is something I wish for you someday soon, my liege.” At this the Prince laughed, “My Lord General, I believe you may have missed your calling! I should send you back to Gajeril to help my father select my future wife. As far as I can tell, “Love” has nothing to do with his selection criteria.” The Prince laughed again before turning his attention to Yoren. The Spymaster had been considering the Lord General’s words with great concern. If the man was lying, then he was a much better liar than anyone could’ve guessed. Worse still, if he were telling the truth, then here was a man who had no further aspirations than to diligently serve the regime. Such a man could be a true threat to someone with the Spymaster’s ambitions. The Prince interrupted Yoren’s thoughts, “Perhaps the two of you can continue to work cooperatively for the benefit of the province. Our fair city serves as the commercial gateway to the realm, after all.” Yoren bowed his head, “Of course, my liege.” His mind whirled as he sought to think of a clearer path to his goals.