“True, that,” Tobin said with the hint of a sneer as he glanced over his shoulder at Jenny. As Jenny politely asked Penna for more of the ‘wonderfully flavored’ soup, Tobin’s expression softened. “Still, she don’t seem all that bad.”
“You should’ve met her before,” Athan said. “She was ready to put one of those magicked coils around Dnara’s neck without even giving us a chance to explain things. All they care about is filling their quota, getting paid and hunting their next quarry. Noosing an unregistered mageborne would’ve lined her pockets and brought her favor at the Red Keep.”
“I’m no mageborne,” Dnara muttered, crossing her arms to hide her scars as best she could, even if her confidence in such a statement continued to diminish.
“It is strange to develop magic at your age,” Beothen said.
“You know of magic?” Athan asked, surprise in his eyes.
“Younger sister,” he said. “Decades ago, when she was but five. Parents took her to the Red Keep for training. Haven’t seen her since, but I get a letter from time to time. So, I’ve learned a bit about the mageborne and their ways.” He crossed his arms then and gave Athan a stern look. “I wish you would’ve not lied to me, forester. I could’ve helped. Thought we were friends.”
“We are,” Athan promised. “I thought only to protect her. After what happened at the river, I didn’t know who to trust. Should’ve known you wouldn’t draw your sword in fear at the first hint of magic. I’m sorry.”
Beothen glanced back to Dnara at the mention of the river incident, his unease once again showing past his friendly demeanor. “About that...” He looked back to Athan. “I found the guy you said the black- Jenny had mentioned. Turned out to be Reggie, a well-known, full-time drunkard and part-time thief. No one’s taking any truth from his ranting at the tavern, not that any would say he and that gang didn’t deserve a good walloping, demanding tolls from traveling tradesmen and the like.”
“Damned nuisance,” Tobin groused. “Three days ago, they cost a friend of mine two whole barrels of corn oil.”
“It was the first time I’ve run into them,” Athan said.
“They were keeping to the north passage, for the most part,” Beothen responded. “Going after Orc’kothi traders who’d just as soon pay a small toll than start a ruckus over some cornmeal.”
“Orcs and their code,” Tobin mused. “Probably took pity on the thieves and saw the toll as charity. Doubt they felt threatened by a bunch of scraggly men.”
“True that,” Beothen smirked. “But this past week, those scraggly men became more desperate as a couple late storms froze the mountain passes back over. So, Jorn and his ilk moved into the valley.” He scratched his beard and shook his head. “Honestly, mageborne or not, you did us a favor if the gang moves out of the area entirely.”
To her, it felt like no favor, and she shrank further into the corner of the mattress, wishing her cloak was on instead of draped over the back of the chair next to where Jenny sat sipping her soup. To her, it sounded more and more like everyone had lost their reasoning. Magic had never been a favor to her. It had, as Tobin poignantly said, been nothing but trouble.
“Was it really magic?” Tobin asked, even as Penna tutted her tongue at him in a reminder to stop pestering.
When Dnara remained silent, Athan took it upon himself to answer. “Don’t know what else it could’ve been. You should’ve see it. It was like some invisible giant, or a great wind, knocked Jorn in the gut, picking him up off his feet and dunking him into the river. The man flew, a good twenty yards, maybe more.”
“Hmm,” Beothen hummed as he scratched at his copper beard. “A wind, you say? And there was wind this time, too? Maybe it’s not magic, but some angered spirit that’s latched onto the girl?”
“What’s the damned difference?” Tobin questioned. “Mages use spirits for their magic, right?”
“True,” Beothen confirmed. “But it takes years to learn the correct spells and such to channel spirit energy into more potent casting magic, and even then, not all can. My sister can’t do more than simple mending, and she’s been training for twenty-eight years. The stuff you’re talking about, with Jorn and Jenny... That’s battle magic stuff.”
Battle magic? Dnara had heard enough, and she grew tired of being talked about as if not even there. She didn’t cast any spell, and she certainly didn’t channel some wind spirit! At least, she didn’t think...
But, she had been hearing that voice...
Dnara tossed aside the quilt covering her legs and scooted off the mattress. She needed air and silence to think. As Athan made to stop her, she muttered an excuse of having to use the toilet.
“It’s around the back of the house,” Penna informed as Dnara flung on her cloak and headed for the door. “Follow the flagstone path past the large oak.”
“Thank you,” she said, doing her best to offer a convincing smile before fleeing into the comforting shelter of the darkness beyond the cabin.
13
Dnara shut the cottage’s front door behind her and leaned back against the rough wood with a long exhale. Voices raised inside, and she imagined they were continuing the same conversation about magic and spirits and all manner of things she wanted no part of. Inhaling deeply of the cooling air, she pushed off the door and started down
