Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
Erinna loved the dockside market in the morning. Despite the early hour, the place was vibrant and alive. Vendors readied their brightly decorated stalls, and merchants lovingly placed their wares out on display, all while dockhands busied themselves, lugging cargo on and off vessels.
It was much busier these past few months, Erinna noted as she journeyed through Harbor Market. A few navy ships patrolled the water and directed foreign vessels to their offboarding destination.
In the distance, a large passenger ship that bore the crest of Aloria waited to dock. It was the largest kingdom in the Great East, and an uncommon visitor to the island. There was no doubt in Erinna’s mind that they came to pay their respects to the renowned Chancellor.
A mage didn’t become the father of modern magic without some level of international fame, and Iprix had more than lived up to his name.
The bell tolled from the Chancellor’s tower. Another skipped breath.
Erinna’s jaw clicked as she clenched her teeth, resisting the impulse to pace.
Whatever peace she’d known a moment ago was gone, replaced by sobering reality.
In a few hours, she would be meeting with Captain Wayne Barker of the Royal Navy, negotiating the biggest deal of the year, all while the beloved Chancellor inched closer and closer to death with every passing moment.
Sweat built on her palms. Erinna wished she had the confidence that all but rolled off her father. That trait had certainly skipped over her, replacing it with a less-than-healthy dose of worry.
She turned her focus to the bustling streets. Her friend would be there soon, and she didn’t want to miss him among the growing crowd.
Harbor Market was an amalgam of cultures and goods from the four continents, mixed with Tarth’s local merchant class.
Spices from the Great South seeped their heady, herbal aroma into the air as street chefs grilled local catches. Fabrics from kingdoms in the Great East were displayed in a few of the higher-end vending stalls.
The morning light glinted off metal trinkets from the Great West. A dragonfly hairpin caught her attention. The delicate curve of the wings, the fine craft of the tail. Erinna’s hand went instinctively to her braid, imagining how it would look in her own dark brown hair.
She frowned and shook the thought away. Frivolity was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
Erinna continued to survey the docks. Soldiers patrolled the lines of visitors awaiting approval. Fourth-year academy students ushered visiting mages aside to pass out regulatory badges.
Performing magic on the island without clearance from the academy or crown was met with strict fines at best. Those small regulatory cards would be a lifeline to any visiting person with a drop of Talent to spare.
A few students waved at visiting friends or family.
Talent was uncommon but not geographically restricted.
There were mages all over Sumora, on all the Great Continents.
Tarth was, simply, the only nation with a formal institution dedicated to learning and honing the craft.
It was also the most accepting of Talents, so long as they weren’t aberrant in nature.
Mages from all over came to Tarth in hopes of enrolling in the Academy of the Arcanum, or stayed for the freedom of using their Talent in a kingdom that preferred to keep as many people with such gifts as possible.
At least, they wanted those with gifts that were blessed as worthy by the Synod of the Everdawn.
Erinna scoffed at the idea of Tarth being the most openly accepting of Talents in the realm. They were still very, very far from ideal.
A flash of dark blonde hair and deep blue robes caught her attention. Erinna couldn’t help but smile as her friend approached.
Damien graced her with a lopsided grin, arms outstretched for a welcome embrace.
Erinna didn’t think twice before wrapping her arms around his waist in return.
She was consumed by the scent of pine and warm cloves, the warmth of his body seeping into her own, chasing away the early autumn chill. It was over far too soon.
Damien took a step back, arms dropping to his sides, nearly hidden in the folds of his robe.
“Been a while, Eri,” he murmured in that deep voice that still made her heart flutter.
“It has only been a week, Dame.” Erinna rolled her eyes but had to admit that their meetings were becoming less frequent than they used to.
Of course he wouldn’t have time to visit her.
Damien was a fourth-year mage, likely preparing for his initiation rite that winter.
Erinna didn’t know much about the study of arcanum, but she knew that fourth-year mages were always stressed before their initiation rite.
It was the final assessment that determined a mage’s role in the kingdom.
This would set Damien up for the rest of his life.
Erinna could understand the pressure—but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel his absence.
“Too long, though. Don’t ya think?” His expression softened in a way that made her worry melt away.
Heat rose to her cheeks. “Far too long.”
Damien leaned toward her, his rich hazel eyes caught hers. Her heart fluttered as she took a half step closer. For a moment, there was nothing but the two of them—like it used to be before he joined the Academy.
Damien was comfort—always had been when they were young. He was the one who tended the scrapes on her knees and the blisters on her hand. In return, Erinna helped him study for his entrance exam by bringing him discarded materials to practice on.
A loud whistle pierced through the air, followed by a demanding cry from a sailor. Erinna didn’t need to look to know what it meant. A new boat had arrived, and they needed help securing the visiting vessel.
Damien cleared his throat and finally shifted, turning toward the crowd gathered near the docks.
A few new visitors disembarked a weathered frigate.
The ship had certainly seen better days.
The hull was splintered, and a large chunk of railing was missing from its port side.
A strip of loose fabric hung from the boom.
If Erinna had to guess, the ship had experienced a nasty run-in with pirates.
“Must be good for business, huh?” Damien nudged her shoulder playfully.
She smiled, turned her palms upright in mock deference, and bowed. “Even in slumber, he still provides for the kingdom.”
As if she willed it, another gong rang from the Chancellor’s tower.
Damien’s square jaw set in tension. His gaze snapped to a group of guards and academy students. Erinna followed his stare and stiffened. The humor had all but run dry.
A member of the Reformed stood at the head of the line.
The man looked to be in his mid-thirties, but hardened edges added years.
An iron circlet adorned his close-shaven head; an eye was etched expertly in the center.
The man was undoubtedly claimed early in life for the crown.
An aberrant caught and reconfigured—Reformed—by the Synod of the Everdawn.
Beside him was a petite woman in pristine white and blue robes, a pendant carved with the Rays of the Everdawn hung low around her neck, and her plastered smile was more unnerving than kind.
There were three major powers in Tarth, and the Synod of the Everdawn was one of them. Just below the royal court and the academy.
The Reformation of aberrants had been the Synod’s grand design—a process meant to absolve them from their corruption. Their tainted Talents.
Another gong rang from the Chancellor’s tower.
“A mentalist?” Erinna whispered and instinctively took a step back. King Mycelar had a number of Reformed in his employ but was known to prefer the mind readers and, above all, his diviners.
“Yes, but not a reader. He can sense intentions.” He gestured to the mark that rested right above the man’s heart, sewn in black against the light gray robes. It was an odd, seven-pointed star with a bright red center. Erinna couldn’t stop the fear that formed heavy at her feet.
Damien placed his hand against the small of her back and provided a small nudge to move her away.
Erinna could feel his own discomfort in his touch.
Damien was regarded as a particularly powerful abjuror in his own right, but no mage with half a tankard of sense would want to face the ire of an Everdawn priestess and her Reformed.
The tension in Erinna’s shoulders released slightly, knowing she wasn’t in the midst of a mind reader. They were a rare sort of mentalist, but she’d heard of at least one that was still alive and doing the king’s bidding.
They made their way toward Market Square, closer to academy-owned property and, more importantly, closer to securing a carriage ride to Crown Quarter—where she’d be meeting Captain Barker and her father, who apparently had secured his own means of travel.
Erinna wondered, briefly, what her father was up to.
Securing a ride would be no issue for him.
As the island’s only druid—with the ability to manipulate wood and soil—many would find ways to accommodate him.
Her apprehension lay in the uncertainty of his dealings.
What kept them from going together? What was he keeping her away from?
“What’s troubling you?” Damien’s brows knit together in concern as they navigated the worn stone streets.
Erinna shook her head and offered a flat smile. “Just nervous about the meeting.”
“I see,” said Damien, but Erinna knew better than to think he believed her. They had been friends for over a decade, and she was never a great liar. At least he didn’t pry. Erinna was grateful for that.
They strolled through the bustling streets, weaving through crowds gathered at stalls, ready to purchase wares from local artisans. The path wound closer to Market Square—a popular hub of commerce near the Academy of the Arcanum.