“The runes must be incredibly small and finely enchanted for so thin a garment,” Amelia said.
“It’s not all that hard to understand, really,” the Mistress replied. “There are plenty of magical garments out there; it’s simply unusual to see one with such fine thread work as this.”
The Mistress lifted a leg and placed her high heeled boot on one of the benches. The side of her leg was displayed prominently for us all to see.
I peered at the threads making up the stocking, and I could indeed see little patterns inscribed onto many of them.
“And what magic does this allow you to perform?” I asked.
“Nature magic,” Mistress Blossom replied. “I don’t normally go into this with customers, but you are all clearly much better informed than my usual patrons.”
“Where did you obtain such a remarkable vector?” asked Amelia.
The Mistress glanced sharply at her. “You are young, dear, and I guess you have not experienced much of the world. If you had, you would know that a Mage never shares the identities of her most talented enchanters.”
“Sorry,” said Amelia, reddening. “I’m not a Mage, so I didn’t realize it was rude to ask about it.”
The mistress waved one shapely hand in a dismissive gesture.
“No matter,” she said. “I’ll let it pass. Let’s just say that a long time ago—a very long time ago, so it seems to me—I trained to be a soldier in the Kingdom’s army. On that particular path of my life, I met a rather exquisite older woman who could enchant items so small you could barely see them.”
“I had no idea you were in the army!” said Veronica. “Why did you give it up?”
“Let’s just say the military life was not suited to my tastes.”
“Do you think we should ask her about the prophecy?” Amelia whispered to me. “She seems to know a lot; maybe she has some ideas?”
I suddenly remembered the prophecy inside her spellbook.
“Excuse me for a minute,” I said to the others before I went to retrieve Amelia’s spellbook. When I returned to the group, I opened the book to the first page and held it out for Mistress Blossom and Jacques to see.
“What’s this?” Jacques asked. “A blank page?”
I shook my head. “Just watch.” I placed a finger on the page, and the letters started to appear. In a matter of seconds, the letter that spoke of the prophecy appeared.
“I’ll be damned,” Jacques said. “This is about you?”
“He’s the only Ink Mage in the world, as far as I know,” Mistress Blossom said. ““I don’t like the sound of a terrible evil, or the High Order of Arcanists, for that matter. I can’t offer much help with prophecies, but I do believe I know someone who might be able to. A seer who lives in the mountains. Unfortunately, I don’t know exactly where she’s located, but I can find out for you.”
“That would be great,” I said.
Mistress Blossom smiled at me. “Leave it with me, and I’ll find where the seer is.”
Just then, Sophie, the barmaid, approached the Mistress. “Should we open the doors to patrons again?”
“Yes, dear, that’s an excellent idea.” The Mistress turned to us. “Now, it’s been a pleasure to meet you all, but if you’ll excuse me, I have to fix those sappers you beat up. Your beds and dinner are on the house tonight. I’ll send one of the barmaids to take your orders.”
We thanked the Mistress before she busily hurried off.
The front doors of the tavern opened, and a crowd of customers bustled in. Judging by the number that immediately swarmed the bar and the tables, I assumed that they’d been waiting by the door during our fight. Obviously, they were accustomed to such occurrences.
I grabbed my pack, and we all moved over to the big booth that Jacques had been occupying previously. Here, we took our seats. The most glorious smell wafted from the kitchens behind the bar.
“Now, young William.” Jacques clapped me on the shoulder as we sat down. “We have a lot to discuss. I want to know all the details about how you arrived at this fine establishment.”
I smiled at my old friend. “I’ll tell you all about it.”
Chapter Fourteen
With nothing to concern us except getting caught up with each other’s news, we sat and talked while barmaids took our orders and brought our meals, together with another mug of beer each. I ordered the shoulder of pork, which arrived steaming hot and covered in gravy, with potato and cabbage on the side. Amelia and Veronica shared a big plate of local sausages, served with bread and mustard and pickled cucumbers.
Jacques ordered a schnitzel that overlapped his plate by a significant margin. He claimed that holding discourse with the god of luck consumed so much energy that he required more food. Seemed like an excuse for greed to me, but I had to admit, he could put food away. He’d been able to do that ever since our days in Aranor.
As we ate, I recounted the events since my escape from the slavers. Jacques listened with interest, but so did Veronica. She had not heard much detail yet about my initial explorations into my magic.
It was a long tale, and I did not conceal anything. I had grown up under Jacques’s wing, and he was like an older brother to me. I began with the death of Gregory, my foster-father. Jacques, who had known the old man well, shook his head sadly.
“Poor old bugger,” he said. “That was a good man. An honest, wise, and simple man. The world is poorer without him.”
“He certainly was,” I said. When I glanced up, I found Veronica looking at me with sympathy and understanding in her gaze. There were tears in her eyes, and she gave a very small nod, as if to say she understood.
He followed my tale through my sale into slavery, my journey north with the Trollmen, and my escape with Amelia at my side. He
