Brian McClellan - Forsworn

Norrine tried to copy her relaxed manner. She could see Santiole’s eyes working quickly, searching the crowds.

“What’s wrong?” Norrine asked quietly.

“No one just closes the port,” Santiole responded, her voice low. She paused as the waiter approached, and paid for coffee for both of them. When the waiter was gone, she went on, “Only the mayor can close the port, and his fortunes are all tied up in trade with Adro. He would sooner cut off his own thumb than close the port even for a day. It had to be Nikslaus.”

Norrine didn’t follow. “But you just said that only….”

“A Privileged can do just about anything, child,” Santiole said, “And a Privileged Longdog has the authority of the king. He must have followed us here.” Her lips moved silently, as if she were considering something. “If Nikslaus is here, Duke Leora will be watched. As will Erika. I can’t risk making contact with either of them and leading the Longdogs back to you.” She fell silent for another few moments and then said, “Stay here.” She got to her feet and disappeared into the crowds before Norrine could respond.

Norrine remained frozen in her chair. She waited for Santiole to return. And she waited some more. The waiter returned with a new cup of coffee for Santiole, smiling congenially at Norrine. Norrine made herself smile back.

She waited even longer.

It soon became apparent that Santiole would not be right back. Norrine lifted her coffee to her lips, taking a sip and nearly spitting it back out. It was so bitter!

How long was she supposed to wait? What if Santiole had been captured or questioned? Perhaps Erika and her grandfather had already been arrested. If Santiole decided to abandon Norrine, she would have to go on without her. With the docks closed, that meant she would have to brave the mountain passes.

Norrine waited at the table for another five minutes. She leaned back in her chair, swinging her feet, and smiled at the waiter when he returned.

“She’ll be right back,” she said.

When he had turned his back, she let the smile drop and turned to watching the street.

A flash of color caught her eyes. Green on tan uniforms moved through the street, the crowd parting before them. Norrine leapt to her feet and hurried inside the cafe. She paused by the door, wringing her hands together, and pressed herself into the corner where she could see out the window but-hopefully-remain unseen herself.

The Kez soldiers seemed to be coming straight for her. There were three of them, swords at their sides with no muskets in sight. A fourth man was leading them. He had light blonde hair, a slight build, and wore a black suit with runed gloves on his hands. Norrine tried not to tremble at the sight. A Privileged sorcerer.

The group passed the cafe and continued on down the street. Norrine watched them go.

“Have you seen a Privileged before?”

The voice made her jump, but it was just the waiter standing behind her. Norrine shook her head. “I haven’t.”

“We get a few through here, being a port town and all,” the waiter said. “You know how it is. They’re not as special when you see ‘em in person.” He paused, then added, “Not that I’d want to make one mad or anything.”

Norrine let out a soft sigh when she saw Santiole coming down the street a few minutes later. Santiole was alone, and she approached the cafe hesitantly. She came inside with one hand on her pistol.

“Nikslaus is here,” she said, taking Norrine back outside.

“A Privileged walked by with some soldiers not long ago,” Norrine said. “It must have been him.”

“Good that you kept out of sight.” Santiole gave a curt, approving nod. “It took me longer than expected to speak to Lady Erika without being spotted. They’ve closed the port and they have men watching all the city gates. My lady wants us to take the high pass over to Budwiel to smuggle you into Adro by land.”

“How will we escape the city?” Norrine asked.

“We’ll go during the night. I’ve arranged to have horses waiting just outside the walls.” Santiole moved the hem of her jacket to reveal a coil of rope hanging from her belt. “How do you feel about heights?”

Erika and her entourage ascended back into the mountains the next day, their team of four horses pulling them higher and higher into the pass between Norport and the wheat fields of Kez known as the Amber Expanse. They were forced to travel southwest in order to head back across the mountains and reach Budwiel, an Adran city that sat on the southernmost border between Kez and Adro.

She was accompanied by Dominik, her grandfather’s elderly carriage driver, and Tirel, a man-at-arms who had been with the family for decades.

Santiole and Norrine met them two days outside of Norport as they crossed the first of several high passes on their journey. Erika was relieved to see them safe and glad for the company in the cold carriage.

On the third day it began to snow, and by the fourth they were forced to slow their pace lest the carriage slide off the mountainside. On the fifth day, Erika sat brooding, watching the snow fall lightly outside the carriage window. Dominik claimed he could keep driving as long as the road didn’t freeze but that the snow would slow them a little. If Nikslaus had set a trap, surely they would have sprung it by now. If he was chasing her, his men on horseback could travel faster than a carriage on slick roads. Or her guess had been wrong. Perhaps Nikslaus hadn’t suspected her in the least and had simply let her go.

Erika didn’t dare to hope.

She would drive herself mad trying to anticipate Nikslaus. Best not to think about it. “Are you warm enough?” she asked Norrine.

The girl nodded. They were both smothered soundly in furs and blankets. Erika felt the worst for poor Dominik out with the horses, though the old man protested that he was plenty warm in his seal-skin cloak. Dominik was a cripple, his left leg injured from a fall from horseback in his youth, but if anyone could get the carriage through the passes in the snow it would be him.

Erika looked at the healing scrapes on Norrine’s cheeks and wondered how she’d gotten them. Perhaps one of the guards had attacked her. Or maybe during her escape from the Longdogs. Erika imagined Norrine frightened, hungry, and cold as she pressed herself amongst the roots of an old tree beneath the road, scraping against rocks and hard soil as she hid from her pursuers. It must have been terrifying in a way Erika couldn’t conceive, yet the girl stayed strong and silent, ready to brave the mountain passes on foot to earn her freedom.

By Kresimir, if Erika could find in herself even a fraction of that bravery she would be a duchess to be reckoned with.

“How did you find out you were a powder mage?” Erika asked.

Norrine watched her for several moments, her eyes melancholy, before she answered. “Da was showing me how to shoot a musket.” She paused and shivered, but not, it seemed, from the cold. “It was over a year ago now. Last summer. He saw that I fired the musket without pulling the trigger. I tried to tell him it was an accident.”

“And he turned you in?”

“He wasn’t going to. He kept it a secret through last winter and spring. Summer came, and then Phille got sick and Da didn’t have any money for the doctor. Phille’s my older brother. And Da said if Phille died, Ma would go mad with grief.”

So they turned in their daughter for a handsome reward. Erika had heard similar stories. Peasants had little choice, after all. If they turned in their children or friends or relatives they were given land, money, cattle. If the Longdogs found out you were hiding a mage, however, your whole family could go to the headsman.