They rode on, easily making Vrille at a decent hour. He considered suggesting they press on, but Vrille was the last large town before the border, and there was nothing to say that they would find rooms in a travelers’ inn or village farther along. They could camp out, of course, but Loriot would rather save that option for if they actually had to. Vrille was well used to travelers making the journey along the road that linked Jumelle with Amaranta and had more than one inn. He and Savarin chose the larger of them, and he stayed out in the stable yard to see their horses settled while Savarin went inside to secure their rooms. They accomplished even that with only a few words exchanged.
It was going to be a long trip.
Chapter 7
SAVARIN DRAGGED himself into the inn’s common room the next morning just as dawn was lighting the horizon to find Loriot already there. He occupied a table in the corner where the innkeeper’s daughter was setting a plate of breakfast in front of him. Savarin hoped breakfast was as good a meal as dinner had been the night before, or he would be even less pleased at being roused from his bed at this hour, even if the bed wasn’t his own.
The innkeeper’s daughter came toward him and bobbed a nervous curtsy. “There’s room at Captain Loriot’s table if you like, sir, and I’ll bring your breakfast.”
She scurried away, presumably to retrieve his breakfast, as soon as he agreed, and he turned for Loriot’s table. “Good morning, Captain.”
“Good morning,” Loriot replied as Savarin took the chair opposite him. Loriot was far too bright-eyed and awake for Savarin, not that Savarin had anything against early mornings when they were called for. He could get up as early as needed, or stay up, as was often the case when he’d spent the night working. It was more that Loriot’s insistence on early starts the last two mornings felt far too much like an order, and the idea of being ordered about on a trip that was his own mission grated.
The girl returned with his breakfast, a plate of bread, soft cheese, and sausage and a bowl of steaming porridge, before he could say anything. The interruption was probably for the best if he didn’t want to vent his frustrations on his traveling companion of the next several weeks, whether he wanted that companion or not. She placed the dishes in front of him and left with another bobbed curtsy.
Loriot watched her walk away, eyebrows raised, but he only shook his head when Savarin sent him a questioning look. He could have asked what had Loriot so puzzled, but it wasn’t worth it. He turned to his breakfast instead. Porridge was one of the foods he loathed, probably from eating it so much as a child, but he dipped his spoon in the bowl nonetheless. He could ask for something else, if only just more bread and cheese, but the innkeeper’s daughter seemed skittish enough. No need to make it worse.
His first bite left him pleasantly surprised. The porridge was redolent with spices and fruit, making it palatable to him and most likely delicious to someone who didn’t loathe porridge the way he did. Loriot seemed to have no problem with the porridge, eating it and the rest of his meal with every sign of enjoyment. He finished before Savarin, but then Loriot had started eating before Savarin arrived for breakfast. Annoyance rose in him that Loriot hadn’t waited, not that they’d arranged to eat together; he didn’t even know if he wanted to eat every meal with Loriot. And he had no idea how long Loriot had been awake. Maybe he was one of those baffling people who were habitually up before the sun.
“I’ll see that the horses are readied and then retrieve my things. Meet you in the stable yard when you’re finished?” Loriot asked.
He wanted to argue just from the perverse desire not to be dictated to. He gave Loriot a short nod instead, not saying anything in case something he didn’t care to say exploded out against his will in a common room already filling with travelers eager to be on their way. Then he shoveled more porridge into his mouth for good measure. After Loriot left, Savarin continued to eat, not lingering but not rushing either. He would not bolt his breakfast and jump on his horse. As soon as he finished, the innkeeper’s daughter appeared at his side as if by magic, asking if he needed anything else. He declined a second helping of breakfast, but asked if she could pack him and Loriot some food to take with them for their midday meal. It would save them the need to find another inn with no guarantee of one being nearby.
He went back to his chamber as she hurried off. He’d already repacked everything he’d removed from his bags last night, which wasn’t much since they were only spending the one night. But he checked once more that he had everything before gathering up his things and carrying them downstairs and out into the yard.
Loriot was there, standing near the saddled horses with the innkeeper’s daughter. She handed Loriot a bag, presumably containing the promised food, and Loriot smiled at the girl. Savarin heard him thank her as he walked closer. She smiled and blushed slightly, the gaze she directed at Loriot just a bit adoring. Savarin ignored them and went to the horses to secure his bags. The innkeeper’s daughter jumped when she saw him and fell into another curtsy, stumbling a bit before she turned and scurried away mumbling a few words about returning to her duties.
Loriot turned to Savarin with the same quizzical look he’d had at breakfast. Only this time Loriot didn’t leave the question unspoken. “What was that about?” Loriot asked as he secured the food in one of his saddlebags. “The innkeeper’s daughter acting like that?”
He mounted up before he answered, taking time to decide if he wanted to explain and how much. “I’m the most powerful sorcerer in Tournai.”
“And?” Loriot mounted his own horse, then turned an inquiring gaze on him.
“And she obviously knew that.”
“And?”
“And that makes some people uncomfortable.”
When Loriot didn’t answer immediately, Savarin turned his horse toward the road, getting them moving and putting an end to the conversation. He let himself settle into thoughts of the day ahead. They would reach the border that afternoon if all went well, and then his work would begin. He wanted to stop when they reached the border and feel out the protections there. He hoped they wouldn’t have to follow the border south to the sea, which would be half a day’s ride at least, so the trip would eat up an entire day. He’d do it—investigating the protections on the border was his purpose—but he wanted to see if he could stretch his sense of the magic that far. If so he could save them the day’s journey and they could turn north to follow the longer stretch of border, where the bulk of his work lay. He’d never tried to stretch the use of his Talent in that way over quite so large an area, though, so he had no idea if it would actually work. Nothing to do but try.
“Does it happen often?”
Loriot’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts with an almost tangible jerk. He wondered for a moment if he’d spoken out loud and Loriot was responding in some way, but he didn’t think he had. “Does what happen often?”
Loriot’s expression rather eloquently expressed his disbelief that Savarin asked. “With the girl, the innkeeper’s daughter. Are people that nervous around you often?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
“What more is there to say? I’m powerful beyond most people’s comprehension. I wield magic that can flatten cities, bend the skies to my will. Or so they believe. It scares them.” And their fear had long ceased to upset him or even matter; he wouldn’t let it. He wasn’t a child from a poor area of Jumelle trying to cope with power he barely understood anymore. He was a grown man in full control of his Talent and his life.
Loriot was silent for several moments, and while Savarin was happy for the conversation to be over, he didn’t quite believe it was. He glanced over at Loriot to see that the man’s brow was furrowed. He should leave well enough alone, let Loriot ask him, and hope that he didn’t. But Savarin couldn’t. “Something the matter?”
Loriot’s body jerked a bit, not much, not enough to startle his horse, but enough so Savarin saw and kicked himsel
f for not leaving Loriot to his thoughts. “No, not at all.” Loriot paused. “Well… I just never thought about what it must be like. To have so many fear you for nothing you’ve done.”
“How do you know it’s for nothing I’ve done? I am powerful, Captain.” He was disturbed that the tone of his own voice, though forceful, had an almost flirting lilt to it. Where had that come from? He needed to banish it. Immediately. “You can’t tell me you’ve never encountered fear in your line of work.”
“No, I don’t think I have, or at least not in someone that hadn’t done something wrong and had reason to fear the royal guard. But from the average person I meet in the course of a day? Not fear. Respect, for the uniform and position of the royal guard.”
“I’m sure you’ve made a few people nervous in the course of performing your duty, but no matter. I’ve told you it doesn’t bother me.”
Loriot’s expression, a mix of thoughtful and skeptical, did bother him, but Savarin knew well enough how to hide his reactions by this point in his life. And Loriot didn’t seem inclined to talk more, so he turned his attention back to the road and the tasks that awaited him at the border.
Travel went smoothly once more, and they reached the border on schedule. Savarin was sure they would find delays and annoyances on this trip—all travel inevitably included them—but he was glad for the ease of travel so far. Gemella’s prediction of strong storms hadn’t changed and would surely affect their progress. Best to get as far as they could when the weather and the road cooperated.
An army outpost, housing border guards and a small contingent of soldiers, likely one of the groups hunting for bandits in the area, was located on the Tournai side of the border. Just within sight on Amaranta’s side of the border was a twin to the small outpost staffed with Amarantan soldiers. Both outposts consisted of a few buildings, including a watchtower, all built of local stone with tile roofs. Neither was heavily fortified, but then the border was a friendly one. The soldiers were well-trained and alert but likely not expecting more trouble than the occasional run-in with bandits.
“What do you need to do now?” Loriot asked as they approached the crossroads and the outpost. They’d spoken very little since their conversation that morning; they hadn’t exchanged more than a few words when they stopped to water the horses and eat the meat pies the innkeeper’s daughter had given them.
“I need to find the protection spells and try to get a sense of them. I’ll have to be almost on top of the border to do it, at least this time.” The protections in the eastern portion of Tournai followed the border precisely. He doubted they would be any different here, so he would pick them up at the border. He hoped as he became more in tune to the spells—if he did, when he did—he wouldn’t have to follow the border so closely to keep up with them. “It may take some time, and I’ll need to be quiet and undisturbed.”
Loriot nodded. “We should check in with the outpost first. I don’t want them to wonder what you’re doing and feel the need to investigate. That would only disturb your work.”
He glanced sharply at Loriot but didn’t see any indication that he was anything but serious in his concern. “Good idea. Let’s go.”
Savarin had been through this outpost and the border crossing it protected in the past, though not for quite a while. His travels more recently had taken him east and north. Still the soldiers here were as professional and alert as he remembered from prior visits. They snapped to attention when they saw Loriot, who still wore his uniform. Despite Loriot not having authority over the army outside the capital city of Jumelle, these men treated him with respect and deference. The commander of the outpost came out to meet them, and even he seemed almost to the point of jumping to attention.
Savarin finally cut through the pleasantries being exchanged to explain why they were there. If he was to finish and they were to get to another inn for the night, he needed to begin working. He explained only the barest bones of what he was about to do, knowing the outpost commander likely wouldn’t understand the magic anyway.
Faint surprise filtered through the commander’s military bearing, but he didn’t express it. “There’s a stand of trees behind the buildings here that would give you some cover and privacy from the road, Master Savarin. If it’s an acceptable location, I’d suggest you start there to avoid gawkers. We can look after your horses and bags here, sir, Captain.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Loriot said.
They left their horses and belongings in the outpost’s stable and followed the commander to the area he’d thought would be appropriate for Savarin’s work. Savarin stepped into the center of the small wooded area—this part of Tournai was heavily wooded, especially near the border, but the area around the road and outpost had fewer trees than the norm. He glanced around while Loriot and the commander waited a few paces away. The trees shielded them from the road and the outpost, though not completely. He could still see the road and the walls peeking between the trunks of the trees, but no one would see him unless they were really looking.
“I can work here,” he said. One of the waist-high stone border markers was ahead of him, again just visible through the obscuring trees. He was close enough to the border here, especially with the marker to focus on until he caught the spells. It was possible the marker would be unnecessary; he could just feel the spells, humming quietly beneath the surface of the land. He doubted he would have even noticed if he hadn’t been somewhat attuned to the spells from his earlier experiences with them.
“Do you need anything else?” Loriot asked from behind him.
He shook his head. “Nothing. I may be quite a while. You should go do something else.”
“I was sent to watch over you while you work. I’ll stay here, out of your way.”
He could have protested that Loriot’s presence would disturb him and make it impossible for him to properly use his Talent, but he’d be lying, and the ensuing argument would only take up time he didn’t want to waste. If Loriot wanted to bore himself silly, so be it. “Fine. Don’t disturb me while I’m working.”
If Loriot replied, Savarin didn’t hear him. He closed his eyes and took a long deep breath, then another, and reached for his Talent, pulling the power up and out of himself. He sent his Talent out, slowly, carefully, to where he knew the protections had to be, and sure enough, he felt them there, strong and solid and deeply rooted, the feel of them stretching out to either side of him. Following Tournai’s border.
When he opened his eyes, he could see the magic of the spells, a glowing, swirling cloud like a dense fog at the line of the border. The image layered over his normal vision, obscuring the border marker and the trees from his sight. Another slow breath. He sensed no weak spots nearby, so he turned to an investigation of the spells right off. The problem, of course, was how to go about it. He couldn’t push his way into them because he didn’t want to destroy the spells. It would almost be easier if he did—if he didn’t have to worry about keeping the spells strong and intact, he wouldn’t have to be so careful. But he did have to keep the spells functioning for Tournai’s defense. Worming his way into the spells, determining how they worked, especially with spells this old and complicated would have been tricky in any circumstances. Making certain he didn’t harm the spells in the process was infinitely more difficult, and was why the project was taking so long. He needed to go about it carefully, delicately.
Now for the real work.
Chapter 8
LORIOT SHIFTED against the wide tree trunk he’d propped himself against after Commander Oudin left him to watch Savarin work. He didn’t blame the commander for abandoning him to his vigil. The man had work of his own, and even watching a great sorcerer work couldn’t keep him from it.
Especially when it became apparent that all the great and powerful sorcerer was going to do was stand still and occasionally move his hands in front of himself as if waving or pushing something.
Loriot passed the time for a while wondering exactly what
Savarin was doing, what kind of magic he was using, but he knew he wouldn’t get an explanation, or likely not more of one than Savarin had already given him. It made him uncomfortable not to know, with Savarin performing who knew what spells and him just a few feet away with no way of knowing what to expect or how to react if something happened.
Nothing happened, not for hours.
A soldier brought him water and a parcel of food that turned out to be a meat pie and a couple of peaches when he unwrapped it. The young man stayed for a few moments, under a pretense of making conversation about Jumelle, but his half of the conversation lagged as he stared at Savarin with something caught between interest, awe, and fear. He finally left Loriot to his post at Savarin’s back with a few words about returning to his duties.
Loriot’s wait remained solitary for a long while after. He stayed alert, listening to the noise from the outpost and the road, but no one came close. And bandits wouldn’t be so stupid as to attack a military border post. His vigilance was required, but he hardly thought it necessary that day. He wished for a book or a deck of cards. He briefly considered finding a stick and whittling it into a little toy for Alain, but that would only provoke questions from Savarin when he finished, questions Loriot had no desire to answer.
The sound of footsteps drew his attention to Commander Oudin approaching. “He’s still at it? When did he sit?”
Savarin sat cross-legged in the middle of the little wood, instead of standing as he had earlier in the afternoon. Loriot had thought Savarin was finishing when he first moved, but Savarin only sat and continued whatever it was he was doing.
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