“Who would train me?” Erika asked. “No one of repute, I’m sure. Even here in Adro, powder mages aren’t exactly forthcoming with who they are.”
“There is one man. He’s a captain in the Adran army. Low-born, but you know how the army is. To rise even to captain, he’d have to be quite exceptional.”
“And who is he?”
“His name is Tamas.”
Tamas. Wasn’t that the name of the man the guard captain had spoken of? “And he’s agreed to teach me?” How could he have agreed so quickly? Unless they were already considering this before Erika’s arrival.
“We haven’t asked him yet,” father said. “And we don’t know if he’s going to say yes. He has a rather unsavory reputation for hating the nobility.”
Mother didn’t seem particularly concerned. “You’ll ask him yourself,” she said.
The more Erika thought about the idea, the more she warmed to it. She remembered the power that coursed through her when she had taken powder to fight Duglas. She knew how powder sharpened her senses and made her quick, and from what she understood a powder mage could do so much more.
“I’ll go to Adopest and meet with him myself,” she said.
“As a matter of fact,” mother responded, “He’s in Budwiel. He’ll be at the masquerade tomorrow night.”
Epilogue
Norrine liked her new family well enough.
She had been given as ward to a farmer southwest of Adopest. The old man insisted she call him ‘Papa,’ and his wife immediately began to teach Norrine to speak Adran. They had three other children, but they were all grown and gone from the farm, and they seemed to enjoy the company.
Norrine tried to ask about Erika, but neither Papa nor his wife, Madia, seemed to know anything about her and her questions were always answered with the shake of a head.
Winter passed in Adro, and spring came early the next year. Papa and Madia celebrated Norrine’s thirteenth birthday with a new doll and sweet sugarcakes. She was given chores around the farm and grew closer to her new family. She even made friends with the two boys from the next farm over. As time went by she found herself wondering about her old home less and less, though she often wished that Phille was still alive and could come live with her here.
One morning Madia woke Norrine with a solemn scowl and told her to dress for a day out in the woods.
Papa took her several miles from the farm to the edge of the great western forest. His ox cart trundled onward, into the darkness of the deep wood, and Norrine noticed that Papa wasn’t whistling like he normally did when he drove the wagon.
The air grew cold and Norrine recalled running through the forests of northern Kez, before Erika had rescued her. She resisted the urge to rub at her feet-she still had scars from that ordeal-and pulled her jacket closer around her shoulders.
“Papa,” she said, trying to work through her broken Adran. Madia could speak Kez, but Papa didn’t know a word of it. “Where are we going?”
“Just a little further,” Papa answered, his voice quiet.
The wagon drove around a bend in the road, and Norrine caught sight of a grassy clearing. She got a whiff of smoke from a campfire and saw a horse tied up to a tree with a feed bag fastened around its neck.
Papa reigned in the oxen and looked at Norrine. He gave her a kindly smile. “Don’t be scared.”
About what, she wanted to ask. But Papa was already climbing down from the cart. He crossed the road, gesturing for Norrine to follow. She hesitated for a moment, feeling the same urgency and fear that had plagued her in the scramble to escape the mage hunters. What was going on?
A young officer knelt next to the fire. He arose as Papa approached. They shook hands, and a few words were exchanged. The man wore an Adran army uniform-dark blue with silver trim and a crimson collar. He was taller than Papa, taller than Santiole had been, and lean like a young willow tree. His face was clean-shaven, and his black hair perfectly parted.
“Come on, girl,” the man said in Adran. His words were clipped and precise.
Norrine crossed the road and approached, ready to run at any moment. Who was this man? What did he want with her? She reached out with her senses and felt the black powder on him. He had many powder charges, and a full powder horn. There was another hanging from his horse’s saddle. The pistol at his belt was loaded, as was the carbine strapped to the saddle.
The corner of the man’s mouth lifted slightly. “She won’t be very strong,” he said in Adran. “But I’m told she has spirit.” He suddenly switched to Kez. “Girl, do you speak my language, or do you prefer we speak in Kez?”
“Kez,” Norrine said. Was he a Kez spy? A Longdog in disguise? Her muscles tensed as she prepared to run for the forest. She could ignite his powder, killing him, and flee. It would be her only chance.
“Kez it is, then,” the man said. He flipped his hand dismissively to Papa, who turned back toward the ox cart.
Norrine felt her breath coming quicker. “Papa? Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right here until you’ve finished,” Papa said gently.
“Until I finish what?”
“With me.”
Norrine turned to find the man in front of her, within arm’s reach. He didn’t look very old-thirty at the most-but she could see the lines on his face and the way his skin was already weathered.
“What do you want?” her voice came out a whisper.
His face serious, the man reached into his breast pocket. He removed a powder charge and held it out toward her on his palm. “I want you to show me what you can do.” The powder charge suddenly split, the white paper curling as the black powder within began to glow and spark, burning away slowly until nothing was left but ash and the sulfur smell of burnt powder.
Norrine felt her eyes widen. He was a powder mage.
“My name is Captain Tamas. A friend of mine has asked me to teach you how to use your powers and as I am currently stationed nearby….” The corner of his mouth lifted once more. “You begin your training today.”