Brian McClellan - Forsworn

“It’s called an air musket,” Nikslaus said, unwrapping the oil cloth and lifting the item from the table. It looked much like a regular musket with a long barrel, but the wooden stock was wider than a musket’s and the firing mechanism quite unlike a flintlock. He pointed to the flared stock and said, “It fires bullets using compressed air from this cylinder. Good for several shots. The range is a little less than a flintlock, but it’s a magnificent weapon.”

“Fascinating,” grandfather muttered, taking his glasses from his breast pocket and leaning toward Nikslaus.

“We’ll be using these exclusively to hunt powder mages from now on,” Nikslaus said, locking eyes with Erika as he spoke. “No more risking a powder mage getting the better of us with their abominable sorcery.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Erika wanted to spit in the man’s face.

“Perhaps I could have one made for you, my lady. Then you’ll know the joy of shooting.”

Erika covered her face as if she were blushing. “You’re too kind.”

“It’s the least I could do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go deal with the mayor. He’s most upset about me closing the port.”

Nikslaus was gone a moment later and Erika was left staring at her plate. He had ordered reinforcements. How many was that? A hundred? A thousand? Once they had reinforcements they would search the entire city. They would find Norrine in Santiole’s care, and then they would come for Erika.

“I have to leave,” she said.

Grandfather tapped his fork gently on his plate. “Oh?”

“I’ll take the high pass back over the mountains and make for Budwiel.” It was the closest Adran city by land. It would take over a week to get there, but she had no choice. “Nikslaus doesn’t have many men. He can’t be watching all the city gates. If I leave now, I can get ahead of him before he thinks to close the passes.”

“I suppose you’ll want my carriage for that?” grandfather asked.

“Please,” she leaned close to him, offering her broadest smile.

“You’re going to be a terror for whatever man you marry. All right. I’ll send you with Dominik and Tirel. And Santiole, of course. I’ll keep one of the men for myself and hire a carriage when I’ve concluded my business here.”

Erika leaned back in her seat and watched her grandfather for a moment. How could he not see it? This was most certainly a trap. Nikslaus was trying to get her to do exactly this, and when she did, he would come after her in force. Not that he’d given her a choice. She could wait for him to tighten the noose or she could leap from the gallows and hope the rope broke.

“Be very careful,” grandfather added. “I need you coming back alive. You wouldn’t want one of your younger brothers to inherit the duchy now, would you?”

“Of course not. They’re much too headstrong.” Erika winked at her grandfather. “Thank you so much. I’ll see you in a few months when I return.”

Norrine sat alone in a small room tucked into the corner of an inn just a stone’s throw from the Norport docks.

The dirty, fishy smell of the city made her ill. Whatever the innkeeper had burned in the room to rid it of the smell hadn’t done enough, and Norrine thought she might throw up any minute. Riding in Da’s rowboat had always made her queasy. The smell of fish doubly so. How was she supposed to survive for two days on the Adsea?

Santiole had gone to get provisions for the short trip across the Adsea. Back at the Leora manor, hiding in the abandoned stables, being alone hadn’t bothered Norrine. Here in the city it made her nervous. She had never been in a town bigger than a few hundred people. Santiole said that Norport had fifteen thousand.

Fifteen thousand! Most of the children Norrine knew couldn’t even fathom such a number. Norrine only knew it because Ma had taught her numbers and even still….

She got off the bed and stood on her tiptoes to look out the window. Her view was dirty alleyway and just a sliver of the main street. Wagons rolled by, gentlemen strolled, and laborers moved cargo from the ships in the harbor.

The door thumped open, making Norrine jump. Santiole stepped inside quickly, closing the door behind her, and gave Norrine a disapproving glance. “You shouldn’t hang about near the window. And keep that scarf up around your neck, even when you’re alone.”

“Sorry,” Norrine muttered.

“The ship leaves in two hours. We’ll go get settled so that Erika isn’t seen with us.”

“She’ll be on the same boat, though?”

“Ship. And yes, she will. But you can’t talk to her on this journey. In fact, if you see her you’re to pretend you don’t know her at all. As will I. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“All right. Pull up your scarf and let’s go.”

Norrine adjusted her jacket and scarf to conceal her brand and followed Santiole down the hallway and to the common room downstairs.

“Don’t walk so close. You’ll tread on my heels,” Santiole said.

Norrine fell back a few feet behind the mistress-at-arms and tried not to focus on all the people around them. Alone, in the forest, you knew who you were. You knew who your enemy was. But here, with so many people around….

She put her hand to her scarf. One slip, and someone would shout. Anyone here would turn her in for the reward.

Santiole walked with a particular swagger. No one gave her a second glance. She looked so natural and unconcerned. She walked with confidence, Norrine realized, like someone who could fight any two people in the room and come out on top. Norrine tried to emulate the walk and imagined it would be easier with decades of training and a small sword and pistol at her hip.

Out on the street, Norrine reached out with her senses, looking for powder, and nearly gasped at the sudden overwhelming sensation. She could feel it all around her! That man walking past them had a loaded pistol at his hip. That woman driving the carriage had a powder horn and a blunderbuss. Two buildings over was a small armory, with dozens of barrels of powder.

Norrine’s mouth watered at it all. Was this what it was like for every powder mage? How could anyone stand to stay in a city with such overwhelming sensations? Such…temptations! She felt like she could just reach out with her mind and ignite it all.

The dock planks were soon underfoot, and Norrine’s heart beat faster as they approached their ship. Which one would it be? Santiole said it was called a schooner.

Santiole raised her hand in greeting toward a man coming toward them. He wasn’t wearing a shirt despite the chill of the wind blowing off the Adsea. He had a lean, muscular build. His chest was criss-crossed with old scars and his head was shaved bald. He returned Santiole’s greeting.

“Not going out today, I’m afraid,” he called before he reached them.

“What do you mean?”

“Just got word that they’ve closed the port. Don’t know why yet. I think….”

“All right,” Santiole cut him off. “Thanks. We’ll take another route.” She took Norrine by the hand and was already turning her back on the docks.

“Well, it might be open tomorrow. You’ll just have to wait.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Santiole called over her shoulder.

Norrine could sense Santiole’s sudden alertness. She walked on the balls of her feet, as if ready to run or fight at a moment’s notice. They left the dock quickly, taking a seemingly random series of turns on the city streets for nearly fifteen minutes, during which Norrine decided it best to stay silent.

They finally stopped on a street corner beside a small cafe. Santiole dropped into one of the chairs outside the cafe and pushed Norrine into one beside her. The mistress-at-arms instantly seemed to relax, her body language becoming careless as she sprawled back and called for a waiter.