Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“This is Magus Emily Pope recording.” On the crystal monitor, the image of a young woman in her mid-twenties appeared. Her features were delicate, her blonde hair neatly coiffed. She was wearing a white robe and sitting at a desk in a small room filled to the brim with instruments and tools, diagrams and scattered charts. On the desk to either side of her were boxes filled with even more papers and folders.

“Archmage Darling has indicated that I should pursue my own research for the time being,” she began, a bitter note to her voice and slight frown indicating her dissatisfaction. “I’m not sure why he’s chosen to shut me out of his current project, but I have to trust that he’ll bring me in when he’s ready…”

She lapsed into silence for a moment, then visibly composed herself and perked up.

“Since I was given the discretion to choose my own path,” she continued, brighter, “I’m taking the opportunity to look into a subject that has fascinated me since I joined the White Court. He has also recommended that I keep a log of the project, and suggested that I give his methods a try. So, with that being said…”

She pulled out her casting tool, currently in its wand form. It was a perfectly hexagonal length of shimmering obsidian-black stone with a small cloud of geometric fragments that slowly orbited the tip. Holding it up, she traced a glyph in the air, and cast an illusory map of the Kingdom of Northmoor into existence in view of the recording crystal.

Emily got up and stood to one side of the image. With a flick of her wand, she caused an illuminated circle to appear around the far Northwestern corner of the map, which was awash in green. “This is the Veilwood,” she said, taking on more of a professorial air. “Better known today as the “Chanting Forest”, it was once a source of powerful magical components, as well as a home to many unique flora and fauna.”

She flicked her wand again, and the circle moved to a cluster of black inside the green. “Inside the Veilwood are the Black Rock Mountains, a circular range of mountains made of a kind of stone that isn’t found anywhere else in the world. It was once of great importance to The Seven Courts. Although more and more magic tools are being made from alternative materials, most experts agree that black rock remains the single best material for a Mage’s personal casting implement, due to its inherent magic-blocking properties and flexibility of form.”

Emily took a moment to consider her own implement. “I was fortunate enough to be gifted one when I started working under Archmage Darling, but that’s hardly the norm for Mages today.”

Shaking off her brief reverie, she flicked her wand to shift the illusion to a more focused segment of the map, and continued: “Fifteen years ago, a disaster of unknown origin occurred somewhere within the Veilwood. This resulted in the contamination of the entire forest with a kind of magical energy no one had ever seen before. The Black Rock Quarry,” flick “and the town that supported it,” flick, “were lost.” The highlight moved again to a point on the Southeastern-most mountain, and then to a small dot nearby.

“We don’t know the source of the contamination, why it spread, why it stopped spreading at the edge of the forest, or how it continues to saturate the Veilwood after so many years without overflowing. What we do know is that the Veilwood Contamination defies all attempts at magical analysis.”

“According to reports, it has a peculiar way of dispelling any magic that comes into contact with it. Mages who experienced the effect used words like “ate” and “consumed” to describe the feeling of losing the spell at the moment of dissolution. I’ve never experienced a dispellation that I would describe in that manner, nor have I read any record, journal, or study that uses similar language.”

“It also has an adverse affect on many types of living, or semi-living, beings that enter it. This effect seems to be linked to the “chanting” phenomenon that gave the forest its modern name. People who have entered the forest reported hearing strange voices during times of fatigue or distraction. The voices were “indistinct but insistent”, and the longer they stayed, the “more compelling” they seemed to get. Affected individuals reported dizziness and disorientation that escalated to memory lapses and vivid hallucinations after more prolonged exposure. Anyone who did not immediately remove themselves from the contaminated area by the time they started experiencing hallucinations inevitably died.”

“Reports indicate that anything killed by the Veilwood Contamination is also physically transformed at the moment of death. This was observed to happen to animals, both magical and nonmagical, insects, and semi-living beings like magical constructs. Unfortunately, I don’t know much more about what the transformation entails." Emily's frown once again revealed her displeasure. "There is a lot of information in the reports that has been redacted around this topic, so I’m afraid I can’t summarize everything because I don’t know it myself.”

“Moving on. At the time of the disaster, the White Court dispatched a response team as quickly as possible, but by the time they arrived, the Veilwood had already become completely saturated. They didn’t know it at the time, but the contamination had already reached dangerous levels that became fatal after a period of exposure of as little as eight hours and as many as twenty-two. Many of the members of that initial team were lost before they realized that standard hazmat gear was insufficient—most were Knights and Soldiers who couldn’t tell that the protective spells had been stripped from their gear.”

“Thanks to their sacrifice, we were able to collect a great deal of useful data. Most importantly, it was determined that there seems to be a link between the strength of an individual’s magical signature and the time it takes for the contamination to kill them.” With another flick of her wand, Emily brought up a chart showing a clear trend. “Individuals with a stronger magical signature—like Mages, magical beasts, and Knights trained in magic resistance—tended to last longer inside the contamination than beings with weaker signatures. Interestingly, plants and fungi seemed to be entirely unaffected, regardless of the strength of magical signature. Because of this, some have theorized that the Veilwood Contamination requires some level of consciousness to affect a target, which might explain why magical constructs are also susceptible.”

“In the first few years after the disaster, many Mages worked to try to find a way to combat the contamination. Efforts were made to neutralize or repel it, or find some way to run a diagnostic spell on it or within it. It was determined that black rock seems to be able to effectively shield against it just as well as it shields against normal magical energy, but it doesn’t have any sort of neutralizing effect. Unfortunately, the Black Rock Mountains are deep enough inside the Veilwood that they cannot be safely reached within the twenty-two hour limit. The fate of the quarry and its workers remain unknown to this day.”

“Due to the value of black rock in magic tool development, the Courts dispatched three subsequent expeditions over a period of five years. Their goal was to try to reach the quarry and determine if the natural caves and tunnels in the area could offer protection from the contamination. The hope was that this would present a path forward for resuming mining operations. Each team was equipped with the latest designs in black rock-based shielding from the contamination. The first team returned after one of its members starting hearing the chanting and realized that their protections were failing. The second and third teams never came back.”

“In preparation for a fourth expedition, researchers at the time submitted designs for a sort of man-powered vehicle coated in sheets of black rock that could protect an expedition team long enough for them to reach the site.” She flicked her wand again to show the preliminary blueprints. “But the impracticalities of such an apparatus, the difficulty of the terrain, and concerns over the wasteful expenditure of black rock and agent lives caused the proposal to be rejected.”

“The research was shelved shortly after that. Over those five years, several advancements had been made in alternative materials for magic tools. That, combined with the lack of meaningful progress in the research, loss of personnel, and certain outside political pressures caused the Courts to abandon the idea of returning to the Black Rock Quarry or finding a way to neutralize the contamination.”

“For the past decade, the White Court has dispatched a liaison to check the perimeter of the forest twice a year to ensure the contamination isn’t spreading. But that has been the extent of their involvement or curiosity. The Courts seem to want to forget about the problem of the Veilwood entirely.”

Emily took a deep breath and dismissed the presentation with a final flick of her wand. “That covers the basic history of the Veilwood Contamination and the history of the White Court’s relationship to it,” she said, slipping out of lecture mode as she returned to her seat in front of the recording crystal.

After a pensive moment, she said, “The work I want to do isn’t officially sanctioned by the Courts. Archmage Darling gave me his blessing to review the notes and research related to the disaster and the contamination—at least the ones that I have clearance for—but I’m under no illusion that he expects anything to come of it.”

“I know that there are dozens of talented, brilliant Mages who spent more years researching the phenomenon than my own tenure within the Court. But after reviewing all of the available documentation, I can’t help but feel like the focus of the research was far too influenced by the Courts’ vested interests in the Black Rock Quarry. What about the Veilwood itself, or the town, Threshold, that sits just outside the exclusion zone where people still live to this day under the shadow of the disaster? What about Ordinary, the only settlement to ever be built inside the Veilwood? The records barely mention it, but it should have at least been accessible within the twenty-two hour window.”

“And for that matter, why were so many of the experiments and tests focused around brute force methods of dealing with the contamination? There’s so much language around “pushing the contamination back” or “punching a hole through it” or “forcing an opening for a Scrying spell”. I can’t help but feel like subtler approaches were overlooked or disregarded.”

“Even the methods we use to check for the spread of the contamination today are shockingly blunt. From what I’ve read, the liaison is given a single-use magical tool that passes a visible beam of light between two diodes. His job is to turn the tool on about a day out from the town of Threshold and continuously monitor it until he is able to cross the current known edge of the exclusion zone. He notes the point at which the beam disappears, and is supposed to report to the Courts immediately if the point changes.”

“We have complex spells that monitor all sorts of natural and magical phenomena. We can predict weather events, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions from thousands of miles away. We can predict, down to the second, when celestial events will occur and the precise direction and amplitude of their effect on spells cast under their influence. We've analyzed and solved the most pernicious curses of history. What is it about the Veilwood Contamination that makes it so that we have to physically send someone out there to stick a tool in it to see if it’s moved?”

“The current strategy is working, yes, but it’s hard to believe that it’s the best that we could come up with after five years of study. It speaks to the complex nature of the contamination and the magnitude of challenge it represents.”

Emily’s body language shifted, a sudden intensity burning in her as she leaned forward towards the crystal. “But,” she smiled, “I think I have a solution. Spell layering is an evolving field of study, and one that I did my dissertation on—it’s why Archmage Darling hired me right out of college. It’s a methodology that didn’t exist at the time of the original research, at least not in its current form. And I have an idea for how to use it to solve the diagnostic problem.”

“If I can do it, if my idea works,” she rushed on, gesturing emphatically, “It will change everything we know about the process of analyzing foreign magical energies—create whole new fields of study! It could open up a path back to the Black Rock Mountains. One day we might even be able to cleanse the Veilwood!”

Emily broke off, staring off at something only she could see, eyes bright. Then she visibly calmed herself down and returned her focus to the recording crystal in front of her.

“Anyway. I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to bring Darling a working prototype before he’ll even consider authorizing the black rock I would need for the real deal. It’s going to take a lot of work, but I know I can build it, and I think once he sees it he’ll understand.”

“That’s why I’m picking up research that’s been abandoned for a decade. Maybe fresh eyes and a fresh approach can lead to a breakthrough. Maybe I’ll actually be able to convince Darling to let me try building the diagnostic device. And maybe he’ll let me go to the Veilwood to test it out myself.”

Chapter Text

Jesse Faden gave a low whistle at sight of the pristine white carriage hitched to two white horses that was parked at the rear of the caravan. The rest of the caravan was bustling with activity as the laborers of the Merchant’s Association worked to load the wagons and ready the oxen. But those folks were giving the carriage a wide berth, and Jesse could understand why.

Two men in full armor were standing next to it, helmets off, chatting casually. She could see the emblems on their chests that marked them as Court Knights. Aside from the social pressure of their status, the sabres on their hips and the spellrifles on their backs gave them an air of danger that the folks in this part of the city didn’t want to get mixed up in.

“Ahti, is that what you meant when you said we’d have ‘extra cargo’ for this trip?” Jesse asked dubiously. “I thought you meant we’d have to cart some kind of new device up there, I didn’t realize we’d be escorting people.”

The shorter man next to her pulled back his wide-brimmed hat and ran a hand through his graying, messy hair. His skin was tanned and leathery from years of exposure to the elements, and he slumped against a stack of crates with a kind of carelessness that she’d never been able to pull off.

“Ehh,” Ahti waved her off. “Kuin Manulle illallinen. People, contraptions. Good money either way.” All of that was delivered in his typical, heavily-accented grumble, dipping in and out of his native language.

“I’m glad we’re getting paid for it, but that’s not what I’m worried about, ” Jesse said. “That’s an expensive-looking carriage, and those are Court Knights.” Knights of the Seven weren’t dispatched to guard just anybody. “What did you get us into, old man? Who’s going to be in that carriage?”

Ahti hummed, then said, “Some apprentice. I don’t know her name. My contact in the tower said she needs to go to Threshold, maybe stay in town a few extra weeks to check some things. Our job is to bring her up and bring her back again.”

“Fuck,” Jesse groaned. A round trip to Threshold from the capital usually took them three months. That was a long time to be carting around some fancy apprentice associated with the Courts. And they might even have to extend their trip for her? She’d have to let the other members of the team know to be on their best behavior. No telling what sort of offense someone like that could take from simple folk like them.

Then she thought back over what Ahti said and realized he was leaving out an important detail. “What kind of apprentice are we talking about?”

“Archmage.”

Jesse stared at him.

Ahti stared back at her.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” She exploded. Everyone who had been rushing around nearby stopped to stare at her outburst.

Jesse reigned herself in quickly, knowing that she couldn’t shout about this the way she wanted to. People around here had sharp ears and rumors traveled quickly. This wasn’t the kind of thing she could talk about carelessly unless she wanted everyone to know their business by lunchtime.

She glared fiercely at the people around them until they stopped trying to eavesdrop so obviously and returned to their work. Then she leaned in close to Ahti and hissed, “Why didn’t you just invite the King along while you were at it? Why the hell do they need us to escort someone like that? We’re just a bunch of wagoners contracted to the White Court. What they hell are they thinking?”

“Ei hätä oo tän näkönen,” Ahti said, unbothered. “What’s it matter? We have to go the same distance either way. They bring their own weapons, they bring their own horses, they bring their own carriage. Who cares about a robe riding at the back of the line?”

Jesse dropped her head into her hands and rubbed at her temples at Ahti’s refusal to see the problem. He wasn’t just her boss, he was her mentor and, most importantly, her friend. She had a lot of respect for him and had trusted him with her life on more than one occasion. Jesse had also been working with him since she was 16, so she was well used to his mannerisms and careless attitude, especially towards people who far, far outranked them. But this was too much, even for him.

Didn’t he understand how much trouble they’d be in if something happened to the apprentice? Or worse, what if someone did something that pissed her off? She could forcibly end their contract with the Court, or have them expelled from the Merchant’s Association. If they really messed up, Jesse didn’t think prison was outside the realm of possibility. Or maybe even worse.

She’d heard rumors over the years, after all, about how some people just kind of… vanished when the Courts got involved. Or maybe it was when wizards got involved. Jesse didn’t know if the rumors were true or not, but she knew better than most about how dangerous magic could be. It wouldn’t surprise her if there was some truth to it.

What it really came down to was the fact that the Archmage of the White Court was one of the highest authorities in the Kingdom—the Courts were second only to the King, after all—and they were going to be traveling with someone who had a personal connection to him. That alone was dangerous for regular people like them.

She jolted when Ahti’s heavy hand patted her on the back. “I didn’t choose to bring her on,” he said, serious in a way that told her he had at least considered some of the same dangers she had. “Guy in the tower said to do it, and I couldn’t really say no. So we can either do it, or we can cry and do it.”

Ah. So they didn’t have a choice in the matter either way. Well, at least Ahti’s behavior made more sense now. He never bothered worrying about things he couldn’t change. Weirdly, it made her feel a little better about the whole situation.

Jesse straightened up with a sigh. “Alright. I understand. But,” and she glanced over at the carriage again. “We still have a problem. That carriage of hers won’t make it out to Threshold. Someone needs to tell the wizard that her fancy little two-horse city carriage isn’t suitable for the kind of trip we’re making.”

Ahti sent her a sly, sidelong look and Jesse could just feel what was coming next. “If my assistant thinks that’s what should be done, she should take care of it,” he said jauntily, giving a meaningful tip of his head towards the problem.

“Of course,” she sighed again. Ahti might have been forced to escort the Archmage Apprentice, but that didn’t mean he was going to treat her any different from anyone else. He had a thing he liked to say, Kantapää kautta. He told her once it mean ‘through the heel’, or learning a lesson the hard way. He probably didn’t see an issue with letting the Archmage Apprentice make this kind of mistake. He probably figured that she could just be moved to one of the wagons once the carriage failed, or they had to abandon it in the foothills.

She was sorely tempted to just trust Ahti’s laissez-faire plan and deal with the fallout once a problem came up. But Jesse had the sinking suspicion that the person who would suffer the most if the wizard ended up unhappy was going to be her.

“Fine,” she decided. “I’ll do it. But if she turns me into a frog, I’m going to hop in both of your boots so you have to deal with the slime too.” Ignoring Ahti’s grumble of protest, Jesse straightened her hat and tried to brush some of the dust off of her travel-worn jacket. Having made herself as presentable as she could, she strode off towards the carriage.

She weaved her way expertly through the controlled chaos near the wagons, exchanging a few words with the familiar faces among the laborers as she went. She and Ahti made this trip from the capital twice a year. Some of the folks who worked at the Merchant’s Association had been here for as long as she could remember, and counted as old friends at this point.

She paused to help a young man—a new face—lift a crate that was far too large for his scrawny frame. After they wrestled it into place, he thanked her profusely. Jesse waved off his gratitude and kept walking. If he was still here in six months, he’d either build the muscle to match his ambitions, or the sense to judge his own limits. Kantapää kautta and all that.

Eventually, she was close enough that the two knights noticed her approach and straightened up. One of them was an older, heavyset man with a bald pate and a bristle mustache. Both the mustache and his remaining hair were gray. The other looked to be about her own age, maybe a little older. He had a full head of brown hair, brown eyes, and wide features. Both of them regarded her curiously.

“Good morning, Sir Knights,” she greeted, stopping at a respectful distance and bowing as politely as she knew how. “My name is Jesse. You can think of me as Ahti’s second-in-command. Can I assume you’ll be traveling with us to Threshold?”

The bald knight stepped forward and held out a gauntleted hand. “Sir Lin Salvador,” he introduced himself, his voice deep and resonant. Jesse took his hand and shook. “And that’s right, we’ve been assigned to guard the Magus, so we’ll be joining your caravan for the trip.”

The younger knight stepped forward as well. “Sir Simon Arish. Call me Arish. Everyone else does,” he had a quick way of speaking that made him sound nervous, though he seemed steady enough. Jesse shook his hand as well, wondering if she’d feel comfortable enough around him to drop the formalities by the end of the trip.

“So what can we do for you, Jesse?” Sir Salvador asked kindly, once the introductions were complete.

Jesse hesitated. A quick glance at the carriage showed it was empty, meaning the wizard wasn’t here yet. Maybe she didn’t need to bother her at all. These two seemed pretty down-to-earth, maybe they could pass along her warning without Jesse needing to get involved directly.

“To be honest, the Caravan Master and I have some concerns about the carriage that you’ve brought here this morning,” Jesse began carefully. “I was wondering if the two of you might be able to assist me in… umm… raising those concerns to the proper parties.” She spoke as politely as possible. The two men shared a look, one that Jesse couldn’t decipher, but Sir Salvador gestured for her to continue.

So Jesse took a deep breath and tried to lay out the issues. “A two-horse vehicle with that kind of frame might be appropriate for the city or the highways. But the roads outside of the central province aren’t consistently paved, and I’m worried about the durability of the vehicle. Also, once we hit the foothills, the rough terrain and the elevation changes will be very hard on just two animals. And if we hit any bad weather, it will be the same sort of trouble.” She looked past them to the carriage as she contemplated it, missing the fact that the two men had stiffened up in front of her.

“This kind of carriage just isn’t suitable for the trip,” she continued, shaking her head, “A four or six horse stagecoach would probably be more appropriate for the terrain and distance we need to cover, especially if the wizard,” the two men flinched, “has any luggage or delicate equipment she plans to bring…” she trailed off in confusion, noticing the gazes of the men had drifted past her. Almost like-

“The Magus does have luggage, but she had the foresight to inscribe a weight-reduction spell on the carriage,” a frosty, and distinctly feminine, voice said from behind her.

Jesse turned, dread already gathering in the pit of her stomach, and saw all her best intentions crumble away into nothing.

The voice belonged to a young woman with short blonde hair, blue eyes, sharp features, and an angry glint in her eye. If the crisp white robes weren’t enough of a give-away, the gleaming, perfectly regular black stone staff in her hand was the nail in Jesse’s coffin. The woman raked her gaze over Jesse in turn, appraising her, and apparently found her wanting, because her expression turned stony.

“First of all, it is highly inappropriate to refer to a spellcaster who has graduated from the College of Seven as a mere “wizard”. The correct form of address is “Magus”, and you would do well to remember that if you plan to continue your association with the Courts, Miss…”

“Jesse, ma’am,” she mumbled, snatching her hat off of her head to try to convey some amount of respect. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was absolutely the worst case scenario. How had she managed to so thoroughly mess things up so quickly? Jesse’s mouth went dry with fear, and her hands started to shake, but she had to say something. She had to salvage this. "I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“Second of all,” the wizard—Magus—cut her off and Jesse snapped her mouth shut. “I respect that it’s your job to evaluate the suitability of the people and vehicles that will be under your care during the journey to Threshold. However,” Her expression tightened further, her tone becoming clipped, “I can assure you that I did my research and consulted with multiple experts when I chose this carriage and designed the spells to place on it.”

Oh, great. So Jesse had been criticizing something this woman had personally put a great deal of thought and effort into. Cool. Good.

“When I prepared this vehicle for this trip,” the Magus continued. “I reviewed reports of the route, road conditions, terrain, weather patterns, and available towns and lodging options. I considered the fact that a two horse vehicle would be more maneuverable on narrow roads and easier to store in smaller towns that wouldn’t have proper carriage houses. My spells should make it durable enough to survive the roughest road conditions, resistant to getting stuck in mud, and light enough that the horses should barely feel it. You could lift it in its current state. Would you like to test it out?” The Magus asked, a challenge in her voice.

That was a bad idea for so many reasons, but the woman seemed set on proving a point. Jesse, hat in trembling hands, had no choice but to decline. Touching that carriage could be disastrous. So she bowed deeply and said, “My apologies, ma’am, but I really shouldn’t-“

“Philip, show her,” the woman cut her off again. A slender young man that Jesse hadn’t noticed before wordlessly stepped out from behind the wizard—Magus. He had short, light brown hair, and was dressed in the gray livery of an attendant to the Courts. He was carrying a rather large bundle of leather bags and packs, which he carefully set down. Then he moved over to the carriage, and, right in front of Jesse’s disbelieving eyes, lifted the back of the vehicle up with less effort than Jesse spent on the crate just a few minutes ago.

Something about Jesse’s wide-eyed stare seemed to appease the woman’s anger, and she lost her combative edge. “It was my hope to not be a burden on your team when I requested to join you on your trip out to the Veilwood,” she explained. Her tone no longer held its bite, and was instead perfectly neutral. Professional, even.

“I understand your concerns about the durability of the vehicle and the number of horses. However, the carriage has been reinforced and lightened with magic, and my luggage has been similarly lightened with magic where possible. I believe that everything will hold up just fine for this journey. I request that you reevaluate it with that in mind. If there are any further issues, I would be happy to hear you explain them and see if we can’t find a solution.”

The Magus stood there expectantly, waiting for her to… what, do some kind of inspection? Jesse had no idea how to handle this. The carriage was magic, the bags were magic, fuck, were the horses magic too? The last thing they needed was for Jesse to touch something and ruin it. With her luck, her jinx would break this woman’s precious spell the moment she so much as brushed up against it. She could feel the pitying gazes of the two Knights on her back. This whole trip was going to be a nightmare. It was already a nightmare.

“I’ll… go fetch Ahti,” Jesse said finally. She bowed to the woman one more time. “Sorry again, ma’am. Magus. I truly didn’t mean any disrespect. Excuse me.” And, feeling an awful lot like a kicked dog, Jesse hurried away from them and back to her boss.

Ahti was still leaning over that damn crate. His heavy-lidded gaze seemed indifferent, and someone who didn’t know him might have thought he didn’t even pay attention to the whole ordeal. Jesse knew that he had paid very close attention. She used the walk back to get her shaking hands under control, the fear she had felt at—somehow—insulting the Magus on every conceivable level turning into embarrassment now that she was out of the line of danger.

“Hmm that robe gave you an awful long nose,” Ahti said when she was close enough. “Maybe next time you close your jacket, eh?”

Jesse, already feeling low, snapped at him, “I don’t want to hear it from you. If you knew the carriage was spelled, you could have told me and saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Kantapää kautta,” he chuckled, and Jesse wanted to throttle him. “Of course a robe would have a spell. You and magic might not sit down to dinner, but you should still know to wave when it walks by.”

“I won’t be walking anywhere near her for the whole damn trip if I can help it,” Jesse fumed. “She wants someone to tell her that her carriage is up to the task. You talk to her. I’ll take care of everything else.”

“Yes, boss,” he said with an ironic flourish. She rolled her eyes and stormed off to go deliver some stern warnings to rest of the team.

It was going to be a long trip.

Chapter Text

After Jesse finished warning the team to be on their best behavior and to avoid speaking to the Magus as much as possible, she took a walk to cool off. By the time she got back, Ahti, the knights, and the white horses that had been hitched to the carriage had disappeared, and the Magus was walking around the unhorsed vehicle, mumbling to herself, and casting some kind of elaborate spell.

At least that’s what Jesse assumed she was doing. It seemed to involve waving her staff around in complicated shapes, touching a series of bizarre-looking tools against different parts of the carriage, and a lot of frowning. Her attendant, Philip, was glued to her side, producing one tool after another and speaking to her in hushed tones about… whatever it was they were doing.

Jesse wasn’t sure where Ahti had run off to, but she hoped that he was ok. She tried not to think about the possibility that he had also pissed the Magus off and she had turned him into something. Jesse posted up at his stack of crates to wait for his return and to keep an eye on things (and maybe to also keep a lookout for any frogs hopping around).

Ten minutes became thirty became an hour, with no sign of Ahti or the knights, and no sign that the Magus would be finishing up any time soon. Watching her had been interesting at first, but it quickly got repetitive, and whatever begrudging fascination she might have felt was replaced by growing irritation as the sun crawled higher in the sky and they lost more and more daylight. They had nine hours of travel ahead of them to get to their planned stop for the evening, and at this rate, they probably wouldn’t make it before sundown.

The wagons had long since finished being loaded, their covers fixed in place, and the oxen had been hitched. Normally, they’d load up and head out immediately, and the fact that they weren’t had everyone milling about in confusion over the holdup.

It wasn’t long before people started drifting over to her to ask what the delay was, and how much longer they’d be, which quickly added to Jesse’s annoyance. It would be one thing if she had an idea of what was going on, but she didn’t know where Ahti was and she had no idea what the Magus was doing or how long it would take. All she could do was say ‘I don’t know’ over and over.

Another thirty minutes passed before Ahti and the knights returned leading two sturdy brown draft horses (white horses nowhere in sight). For some reason, the knights were no longer wearing their armor, and were instead in civilian dress carrying large bundles that presumably held their gear. Ahti directed the two men to the equipment wagon, and they stowed their packs away inside.

Ahti then walked the horses over to the carriage, exchanged some friendly-looking words with Philip, and the two of them got to work hitching up the new horses. Jesse found herself extremely sour about the fact that Ahti’s interactions with them seemed pleasant.

She glowered at him until she realized that one of the knights, Sir Arish, was approaching, and straightened up quickly.

“Ah, Jesse, right?” The knight asked, somewhat awkwardly.

“Yes, sir, that’s right,” Jesse responded as politely as she could.

Sir Arish rubbed at the back of his neck, again looking awkward. “You don’t need to call me ‘sir’, just Arish is fine, but I uh… can see why you might feel like you need to after… you know.”

“Better safe than sorry, sir,” Jesse agreed, steering them quickly past the mention of the earlier incident. “Can I help you with something?”

He still looked a bit uncomfortable, but moved on to his main point. “So, there’s been… a change of plans. The Magus doesn’t want us to advertise that we’re affiliated with the Courts. It’s been decided that Salvador and I will pretend to be guards in your caravan, and Ahti told me that you could help get us situated.”

“Why the change?” Jesse asked, curious whether Ahti had recommended that course of action. It was a good idea, from her perspective, especially once they got farther out from the capital where there was less oversight from the Courts. It was best to look dangerous when you were traveling through some of the outer provinces. Failing that, your second best option was to look boring. A Court-affiliated carriage with only two knights to guard it was the worst of both options, interesting without enough of a threat to back it up.

“I’m not really at liberty to explain,” Sir Arish said apologetically.

Jesse shrugged, “Fair enough. So, you want to pretend to be a civilian?” At Arish’s nod, Jesse gestured to the sabre belted to his waist. “First thing’s first, you shouldn’t have that on you while we’re on the highway. Knights can get away with it, but regular folk openly carrying weapons make the Blueguard nervous.”

The Blue Court was responsible for maintaining the highways and their waystations for travelers. They took security very seriously, and the force that was responsible for maintaining it was known as the Blueguard.

Sir Arish frowned at that. “There’s no law against that, is there?”

“Nah, no law. But if you have ‘em in the open, you’re likely to get stopped by their patrols. Repeatedly. They can be real bastards if they want to be, so it’s easier to just keep everything stowed away until we’re outside their jurisdiction.”

“I see,” Sir Arish said, looking a bit troubled.

“Don’t worry, you really shouldn’t need them,” Jesse reassured him. “The Blues are mostly jackasses, but they come down hard on banditry—or really any sort of violence. They patrol regularly between the waystations, so you’re generally not far from help if something does happen.”

Arish still looked uncertain, but he nodded.

“We’ll be sticking to the Northern Highway for about a week,” Jesse continued. “Typically, the guards—that’s me, Roland, Ngozi, and Zeke—will ride on the wagons while we’re on the highway. Not much need for us with the Blues around. Then once we turn off, we’ll arm ourselves and patrol on horseback from there. If you want to pass as caravan guards, you and Sir Salvador should plan to do that as well. You’re welcome to ride on the wagons with us, and we can lead your horses with the others. We’ll have a few extra seats available, or you can ride in the back of the equipment wagon if you want to stay close to the carriage.”

She thought about the bundles she had seen them store on the cart already, and added, “I don’t know if you were planning to put that plate armor back on, but I’d advise against it if you want to keep a lower profile. There are a lot of places we’ll be riding through where a fully armored knight would stand out.”

Sir Arish nodded. “Understood. I’ll discuss it with Salvador. And uh, thanks for the warnings. I can tell you know your stuff,” he added, sounding a bit awkward again.

It was obvious that he was trying to make up for his boss’ bad attitude earlier. It wasn’t his problem to fix, but Jesse appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

“Thanks,” she said, simply. “And you’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will. And let me know if there’s something I can do for you in return,” Sir Arish offered.

Jesse decided to take him up on that immediately. “Can you tell me how much longer the Magus will be?” she asked.

“Ah… no, unfortunately. I’m not really familiar with that sort of magic.”

“Then can you tell me what she’s doing?”

“Aside from ‘magic’, I can’t really say,” Sir Arish said, apologetic again. Can’t, or won’t? Was it a secret?

Jesse could tell that this would get really old, really fast. “Ok, how about this one then. Can you tell me what the Magus’ name is?”

Sir Arish looked surprised for a moment, then he blew out a breath and mumbled, mostly to himself, “Yeah, I guess she never really introduced herself, huh?” To Jesse, he said, “Her name is Emily. Emily Pope. And I shouldn’t really be saying this, but… sorry. About this morning. There are… circumstances. I can’t really say anything more, but from what I understand, that was a bit… umm… unusual for her.”

Just hearing someone acknowledge that Magus Pope’s reaction had been excessive helped soothe a lot of Jesse’s lingering frustration. It seemed unlikely she’d get to know what those circumstances were, but maybe that meant things had a chance of going better in the future.

“I appreciate it,” Jesse said genuinely. She decided then that she liked Sir Arish. He was just as down-to-earth as she had thought during their initial meeting, and he didn’t seem like he held himself above people like her, despite his status. He had to keep his share of secrets, but that was understandable, given his position.

He’d probably get along with the rest of the team, and ultimately, it would be better if things could be friendly between their groups for the duration of the trip. It would be absolutely miserable to be at each other’s throats for three whole months.

“You know,” she offered, “The others like to play poker in the evenings some nights.” Or every night, in Roland’s case. “You and Sir Salvador are welcome to join us sometime, if you’d like.”

Arish’s easy grin told Jesse she’d made the right choice. “We might just take you up on that.”

—

It was past noon by the time Magus Pope wrapped up her spell and the caravan was able to head out. Jesse had never been so happy to hop up onto the front wagon with Ahti and merge into the slow-moving traffic headed for the Northern Highway. She felt a palpable ripple of relief spread through the entire team as they passed through the north gate and put the capital and its seven-spired skyline firmly behind them.

In total, their group included ten wagons, one carriage, nine teamsters, three guards, two knights, the Magus, her attendant, Ahti (who counted as their tenth teamster), Jesse (their fourth guard), twenty oxen, and eight horses (two pulling the carriage, six being led). Their first week would be spent traveling north along the highway before they’d turn off to head west for a few hundred miles.

The Kingdom’s largest and most important highways converged in the capital, and the Blue Court ensured that they were well-kept, well-patrolled, and had regularly spaced waystations for travelers. The stations were designed to accommodate all sorts—from the loftiest Court official to the humblest farmer. Each had storehouses for wagons, carriage houses, stables, common pastures, and a hotel. The parts of the station that Jesse always stayed in weren’t especially grand, but the beds were comfortable, the food and drink plentiful, and the lodgings were secure. It made an easy start and an easy end to every trip.

Their delayed start put them at the first waystation late in the evening. By the time they arrived, everyone was grouchy with hunger and the stresses of the day, but by some miracle, there was still half a storehouse available for them to use.

Wagons could be parked in a storehouse or in an overflow lot near the common pasture. The storehouses were magically secured with spellocks that would only admit people who were registered to them (except for Jesse, she’d never been able to successfully register to one).

When they could secure the wagons in a storehouse, they didn’t need to post any guards to watch the wagons, but the lot was a different story. Although the Blueguard kept the peace at the waystations, they couldn’t be everywhere, and nobody was stupid enough to leave their goods completely unattended in the open.

Jesse was relieved that were able to avoid the consequences of their late start, and it seemed that the stroke of luck had bolstered everyone’s mood. They still had to go through the process of backing all of the wagons in and unhitching the oxen, but it was a familiar routine and everyone recognized that they just needed to finish up quickly before they’d get to relax.

They were halfway through the process when the sound of horses approaching from the wrong direction drew Jesse’s attention back outside. When they first arrived, she had directed Philip towards the carriage house (on the opposite side of the waystation from where the wagon folk stayed) and she thought that would be the last she’d see of him and Magus Pope for the evening.

But when she stepped outside, she saw Philip driving the carriage back in their direction.

“Were you able to find it?” She called out, confused.

Philip heard her, she could tell, but he didn’t say anything as he pulled up alongside her (Jesse took a careful step back just to be safe). She glanced at the curtain-covered windows of the carriage but couldn’t tell if the Magus was still inside or if she had already been dropped off at the hotel. Philip drew her attention again when climbed down from the driver’s seat.

“We found the carriage house,” he said politely, apparently wanting to be in front of her before he was willing to respond, “But unfortunately, it does not meet Magus Pope’s needs for the evening. She extends her apologies, but she requires that the carriage be parked in the storehouse for tonight.”

Jesse stared at him. She was tired. It had been a long, stressful day, and she wanted nothing more than to squeeze into a booth with her friends and coworkers, order a few fingers of whiskey, and wash away the day’s troubles. She couldn’t comprehend what Philip was saying to her.

“What does that even mean?” She asked, probably rudely, but she was too surprised to be tactful. “How can it not meet your needs? You just need to put the carriage in it.”

Philip’s expression remained perfectly neutral, but he paused for a long moment before responding, “Magus Pope has some adjustments to make to the carriage’s spell formulae. While the carriage house is perfectly suited for storage, there’s not enough space for her to work.”

Jesse flashed back to earlier that day, when the Magus was circling the vehicle and waving her staff around. Ok. She could see how there wouldn’t be enough room to do… all that.

But putting it in the storehouse… Jesse leaned away from Philip so she could glance back inside and get a quick estimation of their remaining space. She could tell immediately that they wouldn’t all fit, and as her mind kicked back into gear, she realized that meant they’d have to put the rest of the wagons in the overflow lot.

Jesse let out a long, frustrated sigh. This was the last thing she needed right now. That they all needed right now. But she could complain later. Right now, it was her job to handle this.

“Excuse me,” Jesse said quickly, then she crossed back to the open door (left unlocked during the unloading process while a member of the hotel staff observed to ensure nobody tampered with the other wagons and goods inside). Leaning in, she filled her lungs and called out, “Hold up! Finish with that wagon and take five.” Her voice carried strong across the space and over the noise of her team at work. After they acknowledged her, she returned to Philip.

“Ok. There’s about a quarter of the space left for you. You’ll need to give us a few minutes though, to get the rest of the wagons out of the way.” Jesse was proud that she managed to keep her own feelings on the matter in check. “After that, you’ll need to back the carriage in, unhitch the horses, and walk them over to the stable. There’s a concierge in there who will help get you registered to the spellock.”

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Philip said politely, “The Magus appreciates it.” Again, he was just… neutral. Jesse couldn’t get a read on what this guy was thinking. Was he pleased that she’d been able to accommodate his request so easily? Annoyed at Jesse’s earlier rudeness? That pause from before was the closest thing to an emotion that she’d seen from him. And she wasn’t even sure what it meant! Was he laughing at her? Was he irritated? Furious? She had no idea.

Realizing she was just kind of standing there squinting at him, Jesse quickly shook herself back to reality. “Is this going to be a one time thing, or will the Magus need the space again tomorrow?”

“She’ll know by the morning,” Philip promised, “But I’ve been instructed to tell you that it’s possible she’ll need the storehouse for up to a week.”

Jesse rocked back on her heels as she processed that. The first week of their journey was important to the team. It was their first week back together after three months apart. It was their chance to break the ice with the new recruits (Zeke and a teamster named Thea). It was supposed to be their easy start, where they got to drink together, catch up, play cards, hang out… almost like a vacation before the real work began. Everyone looked forward to it.

And sure, there’d been plenty of times in the past when the waystations were crowded and they had to park in the lot and draw straws to see who would take the dreaded first shift. But there was a world of difference between going to the lot because the station was busy, and the Magus forcing them out.

Depending on how crowded things were this trip, the Magus could become very unpopular very quickly. The others didn’t have a very high opinion of her so far, and Jesse couldn’t say she was any different. Between the attitude, the delays, and now this, she was pretty solidly on Jesse’s shitlist at this point.

Knowing there were circumstances didn’t stop Emily Pope from being a pain in her ass.

Not that she could express any of that. Jesse bit back another frustrated sigh and just nodded. “Thanks for the heads up. We’ll get you settled for tonight and deal with the rest when it comes. I’ll send someone over when we’re out of your way. Excuse me.” And she left to go speak to her team.

The others were understandably upset at the change in plans, but they quieted down when Jesse gave them money for a round on her, and told them she’d volunteer for first shift. Experience had taught her that unpopular orders went down smoother when the person giving them had it harder than everyone else, and she took full advantage of that to try to mitigate any hard feelings.

The rest of the watch schedule was arranged quickly. The others gave Jesse their sympathy, and promised to bring her dinner soon, but they couldn’t hide their excitement as they left to finally enjoy their hard-earned rest. She watched the group of them go off together towards the hotel, saw Roland sling his arm over Zeke’s shoulder, and heard their friendly banter carried back to her on the wind.

Jesse allowed herself to indulge in a little self pity and sighed bitterly before she resolutely turned away. She took a perch overlooking the wagons and turned up the collar of her jacket against the cold bite of early spring. She could no longer see her friends going off to have fun without her, or the bright, warm lights spilling out of the tavern. Instead, it was just her and the wagons in a dark and otherwise empty field.

‘The Magus appreciates it’ Philip had said. Jesse had put aside her dream of kicking back in the tavern and having a drink with her friends in favor of keeping the peace for a woman who had been nothing but mean to her. If Emily Pope didn’t appreciate it, they were going to have a problem.

Chapter Text

The central province was large, flat, and orderly. A region of prosperous towns and sprawling farmland, with very little in the way of wilds left untamed. It was the time of year when merchants, caravans, and other itinerants took to the roads after hibernating for the winter. A certain amount of traffic around the capital was to be expected.

However, when they set out early the next day, they quickly found that the roads weren’t just busy, they were congested. It seemed like there were an unusual number of caravans, especially long merchant trains, merging onto the highway from the various turnoffs they passed. They had arrived late enough last night that they hadn’t collected any gossip from their fellow travelers, so Ahti was just as surprised as Jesse to find things so busy.

Progress was slow. An hour or so in, Ahti directed Jesse to pass along instructions to the rest of the team. They would skip all of their usual breaks except for lunch so they wouldn’t arrive past sundown again. Jesse dutifully slipped down from the lead wagon and started passing the message along.

Her team agreed easily enough, most of the veterans having expected Ahti to make that call. She didn’t get any pushback until she hit the end of the line.

“Unfortunately, I must request that we stop for all of the originally planned breaks,” Philip responded, polite but firm.

Jesse, walking alongside the carriage at a safe distance, did her best to hide the flash of annoyance that shot through her. “Why is that?” She asked carefully.

“We simply aren’t used to long hours on the road like you and your fellows,” Philip explained blandly. Jesse squinted at him. The man was hard to read, but she had a gut feeling he wasn’t telling the whole truth. She couldn’t imagine why it would be necessary to hide anything, but prying would get her nowhere with these people, so she didn’t bother trying.

“Could you maybe stop without us and catch up?” She asked instead, knowing that the carriage could make much better speed than the wagons could.

Philip raised an eyebrow (the most expression she’d seen out of him) and looked around at the other caravans crowded around. “I don’t think catching up would be easy.”

Well, fair enough, but it’s not like Ahti was making this call for no reason. “Look, the roads are busier than usual. If we get in too late, we’re definitely not getting space in a storehouse tonight. Isn’t that going to be a problem?” After all, Philip had pulled her aside after breakfast to inform her that the Magus would need space in a storehouse for the forseeable future, likely the rest of the week.

Philip frowned slightly, but before he could speak, a panel in the wall behind him slid to one side, revealing Magus Pope herself. She was squinting slightly, blue eyes narrowed, and she looked… tired. Small wonder, for a woman who was most likely awake all night. Still, she sounded perfectly composed when she said, “It will be fine, Philip. We can skip the other breaks, so long as we stop at least once.”

He glanced over at the opening next to him. “Are you certain, my Lady?” He asked. There was a shift in his tone, very slight, but Jesse detected a note of genuine respect. It was very different from the empty politeness he showed her.

“Yes. I’ll manage.” Magus Pope’s gaze flicked over to Jesse, who tensed, waiting for a rebuke. But all she said was, “Let’s trust the professionals here,” before quickly closing the panel. Jesse let out a small sigh in relief. The woman wasn’t wholly unreasonable, at least.

“Well,” Philip said mildly, “You heard my Lady. I retract my earlier objection.”

“Right.” She considered asking if everything was alright, but quickly decided that if the Magus wasn’t going to make it her problem, Jesse didn’t have to go looking for trouble and risk ruining whatever tentative goodwill she had just received. “If anything changes, you can just call up the line, and the others will pass the message along.” And she returned to the front.

--

With all the traffic on the roads, it was no surprise that the waystation that night was even more crowded than the day before. Ahti was right to skip their breaks, they would have been out of luck if they’d arrived even half an hour later. Thanks to his foresight, they secured themselves space in the storehouse for another night.

With some grumbling that Ahti silenced with a look, they dutifully gave part of it over to Magus Pope and parked the rest of their wagons in the lot. Jesse, mindful of the perception of the team towards their guest, volunteered for first watch again.

As the sun set, other, slower caravans continued to roll in and join Jesse out in the overflow lot. She kept half an ear out towards these newcomers and overheard a few of them talking about a festival up north. From the snippets she gathered, it sounded like the Governor of one of the northern provinces was throwing a celebration to commemorate the province’s founding, and merchants were flocking north at the promise of good business across the week-long affair.

There was an air of excitement around them, which made sense considering they were going to get a vacation and a huge payday all in one trip. But all Jesse could think about was the fact that it was vanishingly unlikely that their group would get a storehouse to themselves during this leg of their journey. She resigned herself to a week of first watches then and there.

Later in the evening, after the sun had set and new caravans had stopped showing up to the lot, Jesse was patrolling around the perimeter of the wagons when she spotted a flash of movement in the direction of the storehouses. Although she told herself it was probably just someone retrieving something from their packs, it was late enough (and Jesse was bored enough) that she paused to get a better look.

The storehouses were, for the most part, quiet and dark, the exception being the one where Magus Pope was working. As Jesse scanned the line of buildings, a dark shadow—a figure—caught her attention. They appeared near the corner of the Magus’ storehouse and walked slowly along the side until they reached the door and became silhouetted by the light spilling out through its window. Jesse was pretty far away, but she thought that the figure looked like they were wearing a cloak with their hood pulled up. It also looked like they were peering inside.

They stood there for a few minutes, presumably watching the Magus, but seemed to get bored pretty quickly. Soon enough, the figure turned around and left, walking away in the direction of the hotel.

Huh. Maybe someone was checking why the lights were on? Or they had intended to go inside, but changed their mind when the saw the Magus? It could even be someone from her own team, curious about what the Magus was up to.

Whatever their purpose, the figure vanished as quickly as they had appeared. Honestly, if it was someone from her team, she couldn’t blame them for their curiosity. Their guest had come out of nowhere, made all sorts of demands of them, and kept out of sight unless she was casting spells that looked nothing like the magic they were all familiar with. She was an enigma, and Jesse found herself wondering, not for the first time, what exactly Philip had meant by ‘adjustments to the spell formulae’.

Jesse wasn’t sure if peeking in on the Magus would tell her anything, but the idea of it—of swinging by after her shift ended and following the figure’s example—stuck with her. Enough so that, when she was trudging back to the hotel later that night to get some sleep, her feet stopped on their own when she was parallel with the Magus’ storehouse.

It was still brightly lit, and Jesse hadn’t seen anyone else go in or out for the rest of her shift, which told her that the Magus was still inside. What could it hurt to check? If she was spotted, she could just say that she needed to get something out of the equipment wagon. (Nevermind that Jesse would never go out to a storehouse on her own, since she literally couldn’t get in without someone opening the door for her, but Magus Pope wouldn’t know that.)

Making her decision quickly, Jesse diverted her path and walked briskly over to the building. She slowed as she approached, and, much like the figure from before, crept carefully up to the window and peered inside.

The white carriage stood in an open section of the storehouse easily visible from the window. Surrounding the vehicle were four… rocks? Devices? Whatever they were, they were shaped like black pyramids and placed evenly apart to form a perfect square around the vehicle. They hovered a few inches off the ground, inverted so that the tip was pointed downwards and the base faced towards the ceiling.

It was the most overtly magical thing that Jesse had seen from the Magus so far (aside from when Philip lifted the carriage). But Magus Pope didn’t seem to be paying them any attention. She was seated at a small table facing the carriage with her back to Jesse, hunched forward, writing furiously. Both the chair and table were odd-looking, seemingly made entirely from gray stone without any hint of joints or seams. Jesse wondered where they had come from. They looked too large to fit in the Magus’ luggage, and she would have noticed if they had been tied down to the carriage’s roof. Philip had produced an unusual amount of tools from those magic bags—enough so that Jesse got the sense the bags could hold more than they looked like they should—but she found it hard to believe they could fit entire pieces of furniture.

Philip himself was nowhere to be seen. Jesse had assumed he would be attending to the Magus like he always seemed to be, but for once she seemed to be alone. It made sense, the man had to drive the carriage, after all. He couldn’t just make up for lost sleep by napping during the day, like Magus Pope presumably was.

Jesse watched for a few minutes, but the Magus just… sat there, writing. It was somehow even less interesting than what she had witnessed yesterday. At least before, she had been waving her staff around. Now it just seemed like she was writing a report or something. Did she really need space in a storehouse for this?

Jesse let out an irritated huff and wished she was able to let herself in so that she could demand to know why her team was bending over backwards to accommodate this shit. She was about to turn and head back to the hotel when the Magus suddenly straightened up in her seat. Despite herself, Jesse leaned in closer again, wondering if something was actually going to happen this time.

Magus Pope stood and stretched, bringing her arms up over her head and leaning from side to side. Jesse could see the table now—could see a pen, a gem, and a glowing tablet made of a single pane of glass. The Magus plucked the gem up and crossed over to the carriage.

Standing by one of the floating pyramids, she held her right hand out to the side. Jesse didn’t even have time to wonder what she was doing before something like black liquid flowed out of her sleeve and… poured itself into the shape of a staff in her waiting hand. The process barely took a moment, and then the gleaming black rock staff was fully formed and solid.

Like before, the Magus held the end of the staff out and traced some kind of shape in the air. Jesse assumed that the Magus was just going to start tracing patterns again and felt a flash of disappointment. But then she brought the end of the staff down to tap the pyramid in front of her.

It slowly rose higher off the ground, glowing lines of light racing in from each corner of the pyramid base to meet in the center. There, they formed a circle, an aperture, that segmented and folded out until an opening into the pyramid was revealed.

Magus Pope reached forward, the pyramid now hovering at waist height, and deposited the gem inside. She tapped it again with her staff and the aperture closed, sealing the gem away. This seemed to signal the other pyramids as well, as the other three rose slowly off the ground to match the height of the first one.

The Magus retreated back several feet, standing next to the table again. She raised her staff in both hands and brought the butt of it sharply against the ground with a crack.

Beams of light shot from the tips of the pyramids as they came alive in unison. They began to rotate around the carriage, slowly at first, then faster, drawing, not a square, but a circle in glowing light that stayed etched into the ground beneath.

Just as the pyramids became of blur of motion and light, they shot out away from the carriage, and began to spin and dart in dizzying swoops and curls. Sometimes syncing up, sometimes moving in their own patterns, never crossing or getting in each others way.

Jesse tore her gaze away from the pyramids themselves to look at what they were making and gasped when she saw the most complex magic circle she had ever seen radiating out from the carriage, drawn in lines of light, growing as the pyramids continued their work with machine-like precision.

Circles were the basis of the kind of magic that Jesse was familiar with. She had memories of standing in Ordinary’s town square with her family, the whole community linked together around the local hedgemage as she led them through the spells for enriching the soil in the fields, or calling the summer rain, or driving off pests.

And after, she remembered watching the rituals of Threshold from the outside, no longer a part of them (unable to participate without breaking them). She remembered Old Curtis hobbling out into one of the fields and bending with his stooped back to draw with painstaking slowness into the turned earth, using the butt of his worn and ancient tree-branch staff passed from mage to mage in Threshold since its founding. How he would mutter and curse to himself as he worked, trying to find a pattern that would shape the spells of the town away from the Veilwood, because after, the Veilwood gobbled up any spell that brushed up against it. (She remembered the way the others in Threshold blamed her for the spells failing, even before they found out about her jinx, even when she didn’t go near the casting.)

Looking at the dizzying array of nested geometric patters, circles within circles, and arcs of flowing script so different from Curtis’ simple runes… Jesse realized just how far away the magic of the Courts was from the humble village magic she was familiar with.

And through it all, Magus Pope stood, statuesque and unmoved by the awe-inspiring sight in front of her.

The pyramids came to a sudden stop midair, and their lights cut off. They retreated to waiting positions around the exterior of the completed design, easily six feet wider than the carriage in all directions. The exterior of the circle ended mere inches from Magus Pope’s staff. Did her presence limit how far the circle could be drawn? Or did she position herself perfectly outside of it from the beginning?

Magus Pope didn’t even need to move, she just lifted her staff the scant few inches forward and brought it down again on the edge of the circle in front of her.

Jesse held her breath, waiting for the grand magic that would be wrought by such a spell. She waited for the stirring breeze, the flash of light, or maybe even a roll of thunder that would herald the arrival of a great working. The air around the carriage at the center of the circle shimmered slightly, like sunlight bending the far edge of a long, straight road. Would the carriage get bigger? Or sturdier? Or would she summon more horses? Or-

The circle turned pink.

Wait. No, it had actually just developed a bunch of red spots that appeared to give the whole thing a pinkish hue when combined with the white glow of the rest of it. Was that… supposed to happen?

Magus Pope turned, staff melting back down and flowing up her sleeve in the time it took Jesse to blink. Jesse ducked to one side, until she was peeking in through a corner on the window, hoping the Magus wouldn’t spot her now that she was facing towards the door. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice, too focused on retrieving the tablet and the pen.

She looked pensively down at the tablet, brow furrowed. Jesse couldn’t hear anything through the door, but she could see that the Magus was talking to herself. As she spoke, she gesticulated with the pen in her hand, occasionally bringing it down to write something on the tablet.

Was that… it? Was she done? Jesse was confused to say the least. The Magus had gone through all that trouble, used all those tools to construct the most complicated magic circle Jesse had ever seen, only to leave it… uncast? Partially cast? Spotted, for sure, but what did that mean? What was all this even for?

Jesse eased back fully into view and leaned in, bringing her hand up to steady herself as she squinted at the carriage, trying to detect if anything about it looked different after that dud of a spell… And froze.

Magus Pope wasn’t looking down at her tablet anymore.

Magus Pope was looking at her.

Their eyes locked, Jesse’s wide, caught. The Magus’ were narrowed, first in suspicion, then in confusion, and finally in concern. Jesse didn’t know what to do. What should she say? ‘I needed to get something from the equipment wagon’ felt like a dangerous excuse now. What if the Magus let Jesse inside to ‘retrieve’ something, and Jesse brushed up against the circle and broke it and ruined all her work? What if she was breaking some law by spying on the work of a Court Mage? What if the Magus was furious about being interrupted, and Jesse ruined any chance of the two of them getting along after their disastrous start yesterday?

Magus Pope took a single step toward her and Jesse felt a wave of panic crash over her. She whirled around, scrambling away from the door, and fled back to the hotel.

Chapter Text

Jesse held her breath all through the third day and the fourth, waiting for a shoe to drop—waiting for the consequences of disturbing the Magus at her work. She kept expecting Philip to approach her, to pull her aside and rebuke her, or to otherwise find herself at the business end of Magus Pope’s ire once again.

But time and miles steadily passed, and by the time Jesse was setting up for her watch on the fourth day with no word about the incident, she was ready to conclude that the Magus was going to let it go.

“You’re a hard woman to find.”

That was, of course, until Sir Arish appeared in the overflow lot just after sunset. Jesse had been reclining in one of the wagons across a pile of lumpy sacks, staring sightlessly up at the gathering twilight above her, and (she thought) keeping an ear out to her surroundings to make sure no one was approaching.

Yet somehow, Sir Arish was already inside the wagon circle. (It was times like these that she really missed being able to sense people like she could before.)

“Sir Arish!” She scrambled up and hopped quickly down from the wagon, stumbling a bit and then righting herself, wondering if she should just start bowing now if he was here to dress her down on the Magus’ behalf. Then she actually looked at him properly… and blinked. He had a bottle tucked under one arm, a basket hanging from his wrist, and two wooden cups in hand. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t for him to be ready for a picnic.

“Just Arish, please,” he said easily as he crossed over to her. Friendly, relaxed. Not really the stern posture of someone about to deliver a dire warning about the law, or impropriety or something.

“Is everything… alright?” Jesse asked, uncertain. Still not convinced she was in the clear. “Did you need me for something?”

He looked sheepish and rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. “I asked Ngozi if I could bring your dinner out to you tonight. I hope that’s ok. I uhh, well I wanted to offer to keep you company for a little while.” He reached under his arm and pulled out the bottle, shaking it a bit. “She said you preferred whiskey.”

Jesse stared at the offered bottle. “Why?” If he was here to yell at her, this was a strange way to start.

Sir Arish shifted his weight, uncertain. “Well I just… noticed that you’ve been missing from the tavern, and when I asked about it, Ngozi explained the situation, and how it’s kind of our fault. And, I don’t know, I felt bad about it.” Jesse looked away, touched by the unexpected thoughtfulness, but Arish was still speaking. “She said you wouldn’t want anyone from your team joining you out here, so, I thought… I don’t know. Maybe I could make it up to you a bit. I know we don’t really know each other, but we’ll be traveling together for a while right? Seems like as good a reason as any to have a drink together,” and he smiled at her, crookedly. (Actually he looked slightly pained, but Jesse wasn’t going to hold his awkwardness against him.)

Jesse had been braced for a lecture, so Arish’s kindness was disarming. The idea that he was thinking about her, that Ngozi was also thinking about her, wanting to help but respectful of Jesse’s feelings… it warmed her in a way she hadn’t been expecting. She took a long moment just to make sure she could speak without getting sappy about it, then finally agreed with a simple, “Ok.”

So that was how she found herself sitting down across from Arish on a canvas tarp (stolen from one of the wagons) to have a picnic dinner with a Court Knight.

Arish had already eaten, so Jesse wolfed down the stew he’d brought for her while he got situated and started preparing the drinks. He put the cups down in front of him, then reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled something out. Whatever it was, he tucked it into his hand and then held it over one of the cups, pausing and looking up at Jesse. “Ice?” He asked.

“What?”

Instead of responding, Arish pressed his thumb against the thing in his hand, and with a faint white-blue glow and a thunk, a small block of ice fell into the cup below. He pushed the cup closer to Jesse, then turned over his hand to reveal a small magic tool, steam faintly rising from the polished metal. It was shaped just like the ice block in the cup, with a curling filigree handle on one side.

Jesse put her empty bowl down and picked up the cup instead, shaking it to hear the very real, very solid rattle of the ice inside. She tilted the ice into her hand in fascination, somehow startled by the cold of it in her palm. “I’ve never seen a tool like that before,” she said, impressed. “I’d heard that the fancier places in the city have ice rooms, but I never imagined you could conjure ice with something that... small.”

“It’s not really that different from a spellrifle,” Arish said, looking slightly bashful. “The ones that fire projectiles use a similar kind of conjuration. And I can’t really take any credit for it. They’re popular with the Knights, and this one was a gift from Salvador when I graduated the Academy.”

Jesse leaned in and inspected the device further. It was delicately engraved with a scene of what appeared to be a pack of hunting dogs running through the woods, and she also saw the lines of a magic circle engraved into the space where Arish had placed his thumb. It didn’t even have a spot for a chargestone, which meant that Arish was providing the energy for the spell himself. Jesse didn’t know a lot about magic tools, but she knew that the ones you operated yourself were usually expensive. This thing was probably worth a small fortune. And they were popular among the knights? Some kind of fashionable or even common accessory, maybe even an afterthought to someone like Arish. “It’s beautiful,” she said honestly.

“You can hold it, if you want a better look,” Arish offered, gesturing with his outstretched hand.

Jesse quickly shook her head and sat back. “No, that’s ok,” she declined. She didn’t even want to consider how expensive it would be to pay him back if she broke it. “But I will take some ice,” she added, trying to move the conversation away from handing her a sentimental, expensive, and very breakable magic tool. Honestly, traveling with a bunch of rich people was so stressful.

Arish folded it back into his palm, took the cup back from her, and conjured several ice cubes into each of their cups. Then he uncorked the bottle of whiskey and gave them both a generous pour.

Jesse took the offered cup from him and tapped it against his with a “Cheers,” before taking her first sip. It was good. Smooth. Smokey and rich. Much higher quality than anything she would have gotten for herself. She took another, longer drink and felt the instant rush of warmth as the alcohol settled in quickly.

She leaned back on one arm with a contented sigh. She was full, loose, and the cool night air felt good in contrast to the slight flush she felt from the alcohol beginning to take effect. Plus it just felt… nice, to be noticed. Nice that Arish had realized that Jesse was missing, and nice that Ngozi had thought to send him her way to keep her company.

She watched Arish out of the corner of her eye as he wiped down his fancy tool and carefully put it away, then took a sip of his own drink and settled back much like Jesse had. They stayed like that for a while, drinking without feeling the need to speak, the silence unexpectedly comfortable, like they had known each other for years instead of days.

Finally, Jesse drained her cup and put it down next to her. “So, have the others been treating you ok?”

“Yeah, they’ve been great. Really welcoming,” Arish held the bottle up in question and poured another few fingers into Jesse’s cup when she nodded. “I don’t know if you heard, but Roland started up a poker tournament with some of the other caravans we’ve been keeping pace with. Salvador and I have been joining in when we can, but he’s like… really intense about it. Keeps calling Salvador his ‘hidden ace’ and trying to get him to join every game.”

Jesse laughed. She had heard about the tournament from Ahti. He gave her updates on how everyone was doing while they rode together each day, but she hadn’t heard about Roland fixating on Salvador.

“Salvador must be really good then. Roland has an eye for talent.” Normally, Roland obsessed over getting Ngozi to join in. Ngozi was an excellent player (she had a perfect poker face and picked up on other people’s tells quickly) but she wasn’t much of a gambler and preferred to play for fun rather than for money, so she often backed out when Roland got too intense.

“Yeah, Salvador is pretty amazing,” Arish agreed with a small smile. “Poker is popular with the Knights, so he’s had a lot of practice.”

“How long have you known him for?” Jesse asked curiously. “You said he got you that ice thing as a graduation gift?”

“That’s right. I think it’s been about…” Arish trailed off, counting, “Wow, ten years, almost.”

Only ten years? The Royal Academy was where the Kingdom’s elite fighting forces were trained. Military Officers, Knights, Siege Mages, and the like. The Knights in particular started young. Jesse didn’t know the specifics, but she had the notion that most knights-in-training graduated around sixteen. Wouldn’t that make Arish younger than her? She would have guessed mid-thirties for the guy, but maybe he just looked older?

“I can see you doing the math in your head,” Arish said dryly, amused. “I started the knight course a lot later than most people. Graduated when I was twenty-four. I met Salvador a year before that, when I was trying to find a Knight Master to apprentice under.” He paused, looking down at his cup. “Not a lot of people were interested in taking on the ‘Oldest Squire in Northmoor.’ I owe him a lot.”

“How did that happen? If you don’t mind me asking.” Jesse was genuinely curious, but didn’t want to press if it was a sore subject.

“I don’t mind,” Arish said. But the way he drained his cup and poured himself another before speaking told Jesse that some part of the story wasn’t easy. “I never planned on becoming a knight. Didn’t even dream that it might be possible. My dad was a soldier in the army, and my mom was a seamstress. We were just regular people, you know? Not the kind with money to pay for an Academy education.” Well, that explained why he was so down-to-earth. His background wasn’t all that different from hers. “I figured I’d follow my dad’s footsteps, and enlisted once I turned sixteen.”

“In the army?” Jesse blinked.

“In the army,” Arish confirmed.

“So were you like… some kind of combat genius or something?” Jesse asked, pondering how it could be possible to go from an enlisted soldier to an Academy student.

Arish snorted. “Hardly. I could shoot alright, but I was shit with a sword. Honestly, it was embarrassing when I got to the Academy. I was eighteen years old, and I was getting my ass kicked by kids six years younger than me. It was… good motivation to improve.”

Jesse couldn’t help it, she laughed, just a bit, and quickly covered it up by taking another drink. The idea of an eighteen year old Arish getting beat by a pre-teen was really funny.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Arish grumbled good-naturedly, “Everyone else did.”

Jesse idly wondered if Arish would spar with her sometime, once they were off the highway and out of Blue Court territory. He was still a trained knight, and he had obviously improved enough to meet the Academy’s standard, but still… it might be interesting to measure herself up against someone who didn’t seem as far above her as she originally thought.

“So, not a combat genius then,” she said, getting them back on track. “What was it that got you noticed?”

Arish looked away and cleared his throat. “One of the things that you learn in the army is basic magic resistance. Most people can learn at least a little bit of shielding, and if you train enough to deploy it reflexively, or better yet, learn how to keep it up full-time, it can make the difference between life or death. It just so happens that I’m really good at it.”

“Wow,” Jesse remarked, genuinely impressed. She’d never tried learning it herself—she didn’t think it was a good idea to try making herself even less compatible with magic—but she knew people who trained in it. (Ngozi, for example.) From the way others described it, it didn’t sound easy. Something about opening your awareness to your own magical signature and learning how to project it out and shape it around your body. Or something like that. “How did you figure that out? Did they test you for it, or something?”

Arish made a face that might have been a smile and shrugged, “Yeah, more or less. I survived something that should have killed me, and afterwards the higher ups wanted to figure out how. So they ran some tests, and apparently my scores were good enough that they offered to give me a full ride to the Academy to become a knight. I was told that I would be guaranteed a position in the Courts after I took my vows. I thought I’d be pretty crazy to reject an offer like that, and I knew my family would be taken care of on a Court Knight’s salary, so I accepted and… well, here we are.”

Jesse didn’t press for details. She could hear the ghosts behind the words ‘survived something that should have killed me’ and understood the feeling all too well. She debated whether to offer condolences, and let Arish know she could see what he wasn’t saying, or just ignore it and let him move past it like it seemed like he wanted to. While she considered, the moment stretched on, and her companion seemed to come back to the present moment.

“But enough about me,” he said finally. “How about you? How did you end up as part of this group? It’s kind of an unusual setup you all have here.”

He wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t like they were a merchant caravan making money on a long haul, or like they made much of any profit from what they did. As for explaining how she got involved with it… Jesse hesitated. Talking about it was always hard, and she wasn’t in the habit of telling anyone too much about her past—hardly anyone really knew she was from Ordinary, but those that guessed tended to hold it against her.

Still, she couldn’t help feeling like she wanted to share. At least a little bit. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was because Arish opened up to her. Maybe she wanted to acknowledge those ghosts Arish hadn’t mentioned. So she decided to tell him the simplest version of the story.

“I’m actually… from Threshold,” she said carefully, looking towards him, but not quite at him. It was true, in its own way. When she’d stumbled out of the forest, starving and shaking and alone (alone even inside her own mind, severed from Dylan, severed from Her, severed from the world, blind in a way she couldn’t describe, deaf in a way that nobody understood, reaching to touch with nerves gone dead), it was Threshold, it was Cheyenne, that took her in.

Arish gave a low whistle. “No shit? So you were there when the Veilwood-”

“Yeah,” Jesse cut him off quickly, not wanting to know how the White Court talked about it. Arish seemed to get the hint and gestured for her to continue. “Afterwards… the town… suffered.” (And it was Jesse’s fault. Ordinary, Threshold, the Veilwood, all of it.) She took a deep breath. Pushed past the thoughts that always stirred up when she brushed up against the secrets she’d kept all these years.

“Everything there was built around the Veilwood, you know? Hunting, logging, mining, collecting components and cultivating herbs. Just about everything you could find or grow in the Veilwood was magic in some way. The folks from the Courts couldn’t get enough of it. Multiple merchant caravans came through every season, and bought every scrap of anything magical they could get their hands on.” Jesse hadn’t been there to see it, not really, but she’d heard about Threshold’s glory days plenty of times from the people there, and it was easier to talk about than her own memories.

“My foster mother, Cheyenne, owns the inn there, and she said that people used to come from all over to try their luck at striking it rich in the Veilwood. Mercenary types. Looking for a score that they could sell directly to the Courts. Mostly out looking for magical beasts to hunt. She said that the place used to be so busy that she often had to turn people away, that folks would make good money renting out their barns as extra rooms…” she trailed off, trying to picture it. Trying to conjure up images of bustling streets and crowded shops, the inn so full that people had hay in their hair from sleeping in lofts, the whole town vibrant and alive. A vision she could half remember from the handful of times she had joined her father to deliver the black rock shipments to their liaisons in Threshold.

“After…” (The anger. The fear. Good, brave people marching off into the forest, determined to protect their families and livelihoods and never coming back. The spells failing. Old Curtis scratching symbols in the dirt long into the night. The blame, the distrust, the hunger. Anger and fear turned on her when her jinx got out. And it didn’t matter that she wasn’t making the spells fail because no matter how you looked at it it was her fault-)

“Jesse?” Arish’s voice broke into her thoughts. Jesse realized she’d been staring down at the cup in her hands, silent for too long. “We don’t have to keep talking about this, if you don’t want to,” he said carefully. Guiltily. She could tell he regretted bringing it up.

She gave herself a shake and pushed the unruly thoughts away again. “It’s fine. There’s not much more to tell,” she said as evenly as she could, taking another drink to give her hands something to do while she regained her composure. “People stopped coming. Spells stopped working. The crops failed. Those that could, left. We were on the edge of starving when Ahti rode into town with his caravan. Sold us everything in his wagons for basically nothing. Promised he’d be back before winter. And then he just… kept coming. Twice a year. I still don’t know why he did it. Why he keeps doing it. I asked a few times, but he always just says he’s got ‘a cow in the ditch’. Like that explains anything.” Some of the tightness in her chest loosened at the familiar exasperated fondness she felt for her mentor.

“When I turned sixteen, I asked to join him. It was the only way I could think of to help.” The only way to help that got her out of that town full of people that thought she was just as cursed as the Veilwood. “After I joined, Ahti got a summons to the White Court and they worked out the current arrangement, and that was that. I’ve been doing this ever since.” Jesse took another long drink from her cup, a punctuation mark at the end of the story.

Arish looked pensive, frowning down at his hands while he digested. “I’m sorry you all went through that. I got a briefing from Magus Pope on the whole… Incident with the Veilwood before we left. It didn’t really talk about Threshold though, or what you’ve all been going through since then.”

Jesse shrugged. “I’d be surprised if any of them knew. The White Court sent a few expeditions out there in the years that followed, but they were never there for Threshold. Just passing through on their way to the quarry.”

Arish looked pensive again, and sat with that for a moment. “For what it’s worth,” he said slowly, “Magus Pope wasn’t happy about that either. I shouldn’t necessarily be telling you this without her permission, but one of her goals for this trip is to gather more data on Threshold and how it’s been impacted by everything.”

Jesse felt those simple words like a blow to the chest, as some kind of emotion washed over her, tangled and heavy. It pressed against her throat and she could barely speak above a whisper when she asked, “…Really?”

Arish nodded solemnly and the weight inside her twisted, her eyes growing hot. She refused to cry in front of him, so she looked away, just in case the alcohol loosened the grip she had on herself.

She thought that the Courts had written them off a long time ago.

She had just about gotten herself back under control again when a loud, “JESSE! ARE YOU IN THERE?” boomed out from beyond the perimeter of the wagons and shattered the mood inside. Only one of her coworkers bellowed like that, and she quickly swiped at the corner of her eyes and jumped to her feet to greet Roland as he ducked into the circle of wagons.

Roland was a big man, almost six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders and a lot of muscle. He had reddish-brown hair and a reddish-brown beard, both of which he kept neatly trimmed, making his already-square features absolutely blocky. Between his looks and his big personality, many people mistook him for, well, a simple fellow, and he used that to great advantage to hustle them at poker.

His bright blue eyes swept over the scene in front of him quickly, and narrowed in suspicion. “Everything ok out here, boss?” He asked, crossing his arms to make the muscle stand out and sending Arish a significant look that could have been read as a challenge, if not an outright threat.

“Everything’s good, Roland. Thanks. Arish and I were just having a drink,” Jesse reassured him, trying to get her emotions back under control. “Is it time for your shift already?”

“We finished early tonight, and Ngozi suggested I start my shift early.” He strode forward and clapped Jesse across the shoulder in a way that would have staggered her if she wasn’t expecting it and had braced herself appropriately. “I APPRECIATE THAT YOU’VE BEEN LETTING US HAVE OUR FUN, BUT YOU OUGHT TO LET US DRAW LOTS TOMORROW!” he thundered. “NGOZI AND I ARE IN AGREEMENT. YOU’VE BEEN WORKING YOURSELF TOO HARD THIS WEEK.”

Jesse was touched by his concern (and partially deaf in one ear after that), and she patted the enormous hand on her shoulder gratefully. “I’ll think about it,” she promised.

“SEE THAT YOU DO. Sir Arish,” he continued in a more modulated tone, “We missed you at the tables tonight, but thank you for keeping our fearless leader company. I’ll take it from here, so go enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Bemused, Arish saluted and scooped up the cups and the whiskey. With a wave towards Roland, Jesse followed him out of the wagons and back in the direction of the hotel.

“Ok, I actually thought he was going to kill me for a moment there,” Arish confessed after they were out of earshot.

Jesse laughed. “He’s protective,” she explained, “But he’s not unreasonable. You would have been fine.”

She could feel Arish’s eyes on her. “Are you… ok?” He asked hesitantly. “I’m sorry that things got so serious. I didn’t realize-“

“No, no it’s fine. You couldn’t have known,” Jesse broke in quickly. “And yeah, I’m fine. I’m… good actually. It’s just… kind of hard to believe that the Courts still care about us. It’s been, what, twelve years since the last time they tried to do anything?”

Arish let out a frustrated groan. “I swear, my least favorite part of being a Knight of the Seven is the secrets. There’s a lot that I wish I could tell you. It’s really, really not my place, and actually part of my vows to not share things I’m not supposed to but… I think that you and Magus Pope should talk at some point. Like really talk. I know that things have been a bit weird since we started traveling together but I promise there are reasons for that.”

Well, if Magus Pope was actually trying to help and actually trying to help Threshold specifically, Jesse was more than willing to let bygones be bygones. “If there’s anything I can do to help, I will,” she promised.

Arish grinned that crooked grin of his again, “It probably won’t be this week, she’s kind of got her hands full, but I’ll talk to her about it after, ok?”

“Ok,” Jesse agreed easily, feeling… light. Hopeful.

The two walked in silence for a few more minutes before Arish suddenly snapped his fingers. “Oh, I just remembered. She actually wanted me to pass a message along to you.”

Jesse tensed, remembering that she was still on the hook for interrupting her the other night. “She’s not… angry, is she?” Jesse asked hesitantly.

“What? No. She said to tell you ‘As long as I’m not actively in the middle of casting, you can just knock next time.’” Arish reported, reciting it like it was word-for-word.

Jesse felt the last of the tension leave her body, and laughed, a bit helplessly, at how worried she had been over nothing. Maybe she didn’t need to fear the Magus so much. Maybe things were actually going to be ok.

She looked over at the single, brightly-lit storehouse as they passed. She spotted a dark figure standing in front of the door, peering inside, presumably watching the Magus as she worked.

Someone should also tell that guy he could just knock if he needed something.

But it wasn’t going to be Jesse. She and Arish walked amiably side-by-side back to the tavern to enjoy the rest of their night.

Chapter Text

The conversation with Arish lingered with her.

It lingered in the early morning, when Jesse (bleary-eyed and nursing a slight hangover) opened the window in her room to watch Philip glide across the dew-covered grass to a still-lit storehouse with a tray of breakfast balanced on one hand.

It lingered when they were loading up the oxen for the day, her team working in twos and threes, moving in sync with practiced ease through the process of getting all the animals in place and shuffling the wagons out of the storehouse. Philip and the knights handled the horses for the carriage, the Magus nowhere to be seen—until Jesse stepped back from the hustle and took a proper look around. She finally spotted her seated on that strange seamless chair in an out-of-the-way corner, head resting against the wall of the storehouse as she napped.

It lingered when they stopped at noon, after Philip and Arish set up the small white pavilion where the Magus took her lunches. They had done this every day so far, but it was the first time Jesse really considered how far away they chose to set it up. How separated their group was from the rest of the caravan. How the Magus stayed in there by herself, Philip and Arish and Sir Salvador taking turns guarding the entrance, but none of them going inside.

She was quiet in the wagon with Ahti that day, her thoughts tangled between all the questions that had been piling up, the things she had spent the day noticing, and the idea that had taken root in her after her talk with Arish: that she and Magus Pope might be on the same side.

Ahti wasn’t bothered by her silence, and would have been happy enough to drive to the next waystation without her input as he hummed to himself and occasionally made comments about the other drivers around them. But as her thoughts grew louder, Jesse eventually felt the need to speak.

“Why do you think Magus Pope is going to Threshold?”

Ahti, slouched carelessly in his seat, answered quickly, “Don’t know. I was just told she had to check some stuff out.” He clicked his tongue at the oxen and adjusted them with the reins as they started to drift.

“You know what I mean,” Jesse pushed. Ahti often played at being oblivious or indifferent, but he had a sharp eye and a keen insight that Jesse had learned not to take lightly.

He glanced over at her. “What, you want me to guess?” At Jesse’s nod, he tilted his head to the side and thought about it. “She’s trying to prove something,” he said finally.

“You think?”

He nodded, “She’s a duck on a cliff. If she wasn’t, there’d be other robes with her. More knights. More attendants. She’d be leading her own caravan.”

Jesse chewed on that. She hadn’t really thought about it before, but four people was tiny compared to the other White Court expeditions she had seen. And wasn’t it kind of strange for someone of her status to travel so lightly? Jesse wasn’t an expert, but the waystations were designed to host the wealthy and the elite just as much as they were designed for folks like her. She was under the impression that people like Magus Pope traveled with multiple carriages, or at least with more than two guards.

“Why does that mean she’s proving something?” Jesse asked. “Maybe she just doesn’t need a lot of people for what she’s trying to do.” She wasn’t arguing, not really. Just turning the pieces in her head over from different angles, trying to figure out what sort of shape they all made.

Ahti grumbled in that way he did when someone asked him to explain himself. Jesse waited him out, and eventually he gave a low, thoughtful hum, and elaborated: “When a big shot has a project, two kinds of people show up: the ones that support the project, and the ones that support the big shot. So how do you get a big shot with a project and only three people supporting it?”

She grimaced as she realized what Ahti was getting at: either no one supported Magus Pope’s mission, or no one supported Magus Pope.

Jesse shook her head, reluctant to jump to that conclusion so quickly. “There could be other reasons for that though,” she said. “It could be a lot of other things. Maybe it’s not her project, maybe the Archmage sent her. Maybe she’s just doing some preliminary investigation. Maybe she’s trying to be discrete. Maybe loads of people wanted to come along, but she only wanted or needed to take three of them.”

Her mentor shrugged. “Maybe,” he agreed easily. “It was just a guess.” Jesse tried not to think about how often Ahti’s ‘guesses’ ended up being right.

He went back to humming and Jesse got quiet again, her thoughts continuing to turn.

—

That night, Jesse took first shift, despite Roland glaring at her and the quiet disapproval radiating off of Ngozi. The two of them always made quite a pair, Ngozi over a foot shorter than Roland, wiry and compact in opposition to his massive bulk, with dark brown eyes and a glory of black, loosely curled hair contrasting his short-cropped style. However different they were in appearance and temperament, they were on precisely the same page with how fed up they were with Jesse in this moment.

“I swear I’ll let one of you have it tomorrow,” Jesse bargained, holding up her hands against their shared frustration.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU SAID YESTERDAY-” Roland began, at full volume, before Ngozi placed a hand on his arm and stopped him short.

“Are you sure?” She asked intently, meeting Jesse’s eyes.

“Yes,” Jesse said firmly. The quiet of the watch suited her mood just fine today. Better that she take it and let her friends have their fun. (And if this time, she was thinking about that promise she’d made yesterday, to help Magus Pope, instead of thinking about keeping the peace, she didn’t have to mention that to anyone.)

Ngozi studied her, making sure Jesse meant it, then exhaled. “Ok,” she said finally. “But you’re joining us tomorrow. No more excuses.”

“Yes, boss,” Jesse said wryly.

She saw them off and climbed into her current favorite wagon, the one with the lumpy sacks (dried peas, by the feel of it). She stretched out, looking up at the darkening sky as the first few stars started coming out, tracing the emerging edges of constellations she had learned a lifetime ago.

Her thoughts circled back to the Magus again.

Jesse was coming to the realization that she had been making assumptions about Magus Pope since before she met her. When Ahti told her they’d have an Archmage Apprentice traveling with them, she’d had a lot of ideas about what that would mean, about what sort of dangers it would bring, about what sort of person they’d be traveling with. And then Magus Pope had gone and confirmed all of her worst suspicions immediately, and Jesse had done what she thought was best: warning her team away from the Magus, and acting as a shield between them.

But the more she heard, and the more she saw, and the more she thought, the more Jesse kept spinning on one question in particular: what did she actually know about Magus Emily Pope?

She put aside Ahti’s guesses, Arish’s tidbits, her own preconceptions about Court Mages and Archmage Apprentices. She thought about what she had observed.

Hard-working was the first thing that came to mind. It didn’t matter that Jesse didn’t understand why she was pushing herself so hard. The effort she was putting in was undeniable.

Competent. Jesse didn’t need to understand what that spell did to appreciate the precision with which Magus Pope cast it. The certainty in the way she stood as the circle was drawn, the way she didn’t even need to move a single step to activate it once it was finished. Jesse didn’t know magic, but she knew what it looked like when an expert was in their element.

Reasonable… at least when she wasn’t angry. Admittedly, most of their initial meeting didn’t seem reasonable from Jesse’s perspective. But the words ‘Let’s trust the professionals here’ and ‘You can just knock next time’ hinted at the kind of person the Magus was under normal circumstances.

Solitary… That one, Jesse wasn’t so sure about. She thought about Magus Pope alone in her carriage during the day, alone in her pavilion at lunch, and alone in the storehouse as she worked each night. Was that her nature, or something she did out of necessity? Was it the demands of her position, or just happenstance as she worked on her carriage for the week?

If the Magus hadn’t needed to ‘make adjustments to the spell formulae’, would she have tried to reach out to them? To join them over lunch? To join them for drinks in the evening?

Arish said the others were treating them well, and Jesse had gone out of her way to invite him and Sir Salvador to mingle with her team. She had been a bridge for them, instead of a shield. If things had been different, maybe Jesse would have already had the chance to talk to Magus Pope about Threshold, and find out what her intentions were, and what those circumstances were when they first met.

Restless, Jesse jumped down from the wagon and walked the perimeter of her post. When the storehouses came into view, she stopped and looked out at the only one still lit up at this hour.

Jesse didn’t know what Magus Pope was really like, but she wasn’t going to find out by staying away.

—

Later, after Zeke showed up for his shift and relieved her, Jesse’s destination wasn’t even a question in her mind. She walked straight across the grass towards the storehouses.

The waystations were all laid out identical to one another. The exact storehouse might be different, but the sensation of walking between dark buildings to reach the one still illuminated was familiar. When she reached the door, she half-expected to find Magus Pope suspended in the same moment she’d left her in last time: turned towards the door, tablet in hand, with a glowing pink circle behind her.

She didn’t expect to see a construction of light wrapped around the carriage: spiraling up like a staircase, each step a fragment of a larger design—a curl of geometric patterns, a wend of flowing script—turning, climbing, reaching between a circle at the base and a second circle inscribed eight feet up into the air itself.

Magus Pope crouched at the base of it, awash in the soft white glow of the floating symbols (not a single splash of red to be seen). In her right hand she held, not her staff, but a wand, made of a familiar gleaming black material with floating fragments circling the tip. She touched the wand to the bottom circle, and then carefully stood, keeping the wand pointed firmly towards the ground.

She took a few steps back, rolled her shoulders out, and breathed. Once.

Twice.

Then slowly, smoothly, she began to lift the wand, moving from the shoulder, the rest of her arm locked, left arm held out like ballast. In front of her, the bottom circle also began to rise, following the tip of Magus Pope’s wand as she conducted it upwards.

The air around the carriage began to thicken, that faint shimmer returning. The rising circle hit the first waiting fragment, and as it did, the fragment settled into an empty space in the circle and stayed there, becoming a part of it. Jesse hadn’t even realized the original circle was incomplete. (Was it incomplete, or was it constructed on purpose to change?)

Magus Pope raised her wand and the circle walked the staircase, each fragment tucking into a space perfectly designed to hold it. The circle rose, its design shifting with each added part, and the shine of it grew sharper. The air around the carriage started to twist, the image of it bending. A flicker of something else was visible there, but in the undulating shimmer of gathered magic, it was gone too quickly for Jesse to make sense of it.

The circle was almost at the height of Magus Pope’s shoulders, wand extended straight out in front of her, when Jesse realized that her outstretched arm was trembling. Jesse was aware that casting could be tiring—her father used to need to lie down after rituals, even with the whole community to share the burden—and she couldn’t imagine what the cost of the spell in front of her was, especially given that Magus Pope was casting it alone.

Magus Pope was slowing, and the circle seemed to get slower each time it reached a new step. By the time it was above her head, it was down to a crawl, and her shoulders heaved with labored breaths.

Jesse couldn’t tell if it was the effort of lifting her arm, or if the circle itself grew heavier, somehow. There were still several steps to go before it would reach the top, and Magus Pope had reached a point where it simply refused to go any higher. It hung there, suspended as she visibly struggled to raise it further, putting her head down and widening her stance in an effort to bring more force to bear. She brought her left hand over to push her right arm up just a little more… just a little more…

The circle reached the next step, and Magus Pope reached her limit, dropping her arm to give a heavy downward chop with the wand that caused the circle, the remaining column of light, and the shimmer around the carriage to abruptly disappear. As soon as it was gone, she released the wand—which disappeared up her sleeve like the staff had—and bent forward, hands on her knees, panting like she had just finished sprinting.

After her breathing evened out slightly, she stood just enough to shuffle over to her chair and collapsed into it, leaning back and covering her eyes with one hand, the other hanging limply beside her. Moments passed, and she didn’t move, just slumped there, breathing deeply.

Jesse suddenly realized that there was a difference between watching Magus Pope cast and watching… this, and stepped back from the door to give her some privacy.

She paced outside the perimeter of light around the storehouse, considering her options.

She could just walk away now. She probably should just walk away now. Whatever she had just witnessed, it was undeniably a failure, and Magus Pope wasn’t likely to be too happy about it. Historically speaking, Jesse didn’t have a lot of luck with the Magus when she was in a bad mood, and showing her face now might do more harm than good. They still had two nights left before they turned off the highway, and a whole month of travel beyond that. She could listen to Arish’s suggestion and worry about Magus Pope after this business with the carriage was done. She could even just wait until tomorrow to try to approach her.

(‘…you can just knock next time.’)

Jesse walked back over to the door and knocked on it sharply, three times, before she could second guess herself.

Inside, Magus Pope jolted up and looked over in the direction of the door, brow furrowed. After a moment, her confusion cleared and she waved Jesse inside before slumping back in her seat again and scrubbing tiredly at her eyes.

Ah fuck. Maybe she should have thought this through a little bit more, actually, but it was too late to turn back now. Jesse knocked again and, when Magus Pope turned to look, made a series of gestures meant to convey that she needed her to come to the door.

Magus Pope eventually understood and rose wearily to her feet. She stopped in front of the door and regarded Jesse through the window. She didn’t look angry, but there was something inscrutable in her gaze that had Jesse nervously taking her hat off, in part to be respectful, and in part to give her hands something to do.

After a long moment, Magus Pope opened the door.

“Sorry,” Jesse said immediately, before the other woman could speak. “I’m not actually registered to the lock, or I would’ve just let myself in.”

“It’s alright,” she said evenly. “Did you need something from inside?”

She also didn’t sound angry, but there was a heaviness there. Was it just exhaustion? Jesse didn’t know her well enough to say.

The Magus certainly looked a lot worse for wear than the last time Jesse had seen her up close. Her eyes were bloodshot, and the skin around them was dark. Her hair, so neatly styled when they first met, was pushed out of place like she’d been running her hands through it repeatedly. Her robes were still pristine white, but there was a messy rumpling to them, like they’d gone too many days without being properly pressed to achieve the crisp lines that Jesse had seen when they first met. Even her shoulders drooped slightly out of alignment with the straight-backed posture Jesse usually saw from her.

“No, I just…” Jesse began, searching for the right way to say it, “I wanted to invite you to join the rest of us in the tavern for a drink tomorrow. If you'd like.”

Something about Magus Pope coiled tighter at that, her posture straightening by degrees, and her wearily curious expression smoothing out into something coolly composed and unreadable.

Jesse fiddled with her hat nervously, unsure if she had misstepped. “It seemed like maybe you could use a break?” she added, for all the good it did. The Magus just continued to regard her, enigmatic in a way that reminded her of Philip. “Anyway, that was it,” Jesse finished quickly, ready to make herself scarce. “Sorry for the interruption. Have a good evening, Magus Pope.” She bowed, just to cover her bases, and then quickly turned to leave.

She had only taken a few steps, before the Magus called out after her. “Jesse.” She froze, and turned back with trepidation. Magus Pope’s eyes, dark-rimmed with exhaustion, burned into Jesse as she studied her, analyzed her. After a moment, she seemed to come to a decision, and nodded. “I’ll think about it,” she said finally, “Have a good night.” And she turned back inside, letting the door fall shut behind her.

Jesse exhaled shakily. Maybe she didn’t need to fear the Magus, per se, but something about her just now was so coldly unreachable that Jesse didn’t know what to make of it.

She just hoped she'd made the right choice.

Chapter Text

“Jesse!” An excited cheer greeted her when Roland and Ngozi marched her into the tavern the next evening. The team was packed into a few tables pushed together in one corner, and Jesse smiled at the warm reception. Her smile turned into a grin when Ngozi and Roland started walking her over, and the team started banging their fists against the table, whooping and whistling in exaggerated celebration of her arrival.

The tavern was busier than she usually saw it, even allowing for it being the dinner rush. It made sense, with how many people were on the roads this season. The room was crowded, most of the tables spoken for, and yet more people continued to pile in through the exterior door that led to the storehouses. Plenty of tables already had their food and drinks, and servers were scurrying about trying to see to as many orders as possible. The place was noisy and growing louder by the minute. The air alive with chatter and laughter, her own team’s antics, the clatter of tableware, and orders for drink and food shouted out over the din.

She spotted Ahti at a nearby table with Halina, the team’s cook, and the last original member of the caravan that had been with him since he first started supporting Threshold. She also spotted Arish and Sir Salvador eating dinner at their own table, their attention drawn over to their corner by the commotion. Arish caught her eye and gave her a nod.

There was no sign of Magus Pope yet.

Zamir and Sabine, two of the teamsters that Jesse was closest to, made space for her on their bench. As the banging came to a crescendo, Jesse was made to sit, and as soon as she did, another cheer went up. Ngozi quickly crowded in on her other side so she couldn’t easily escape.

(Not that she was trying to escape. Ngozi had just refused to listen to Jesse when she found her loitering near the storehouses, waiting to see if the Magus would join them.)

Half a dozen people all tried speaking at once, and it wasn’t until Roland banged his own weighty fist against the table and bellowed: “I’ll get the first round!” that the clamor became more orderly, as he pointed to one after another in turn for their drink orders. “Whiskey?” He asked when it got to Jesse, but she shook her head.

“Beer for now.” She wanted to keep her wits about her as much as possible, just in case. Roland frowned slightly, but didn’t push, and strode off to the bar to place the order.

Sabine turned to Jesse with a cheeky grin. “Did Ngozi finally catch you?” She asked, leaning behind Jesse to make eye contact with Ngozi, who nodded solemnly. Sabine had big, blue eyes, thick, wavy brown hair that she usually tied back with a green ribbon, and a penchant for teasing. She was formerly the youngest and newest member, prior to Zeke and Thea starting up, and had been with the group for two and a half years. Her grin only grew wider at Ngozi’s confirmation.

“You make it sound like I was running away!” Jesse complained good-naturedly. “I was just doing my job!”

Zamir poked out from around Sabine’s shoulder. “Well, as much as I admire your work ethic, I’m glad to see you’re finally joining us. I feel like we’ve barely talked this whole week!” Zamir himself was a little older than Jesse, though he’d only been with the caravan for about five years. He was handsome and neatly groomed, with dark brown eyes framed by long lashes, curly brown hair that was so dark it was almost black, and a short-cropped beard.

“I know, I know,” Jesse sighed. “Sorry, this week’s just been crazy.”

“It’s been crazy in here too!” Sabine exclaimed, even as Zamir groaned.

“Because of the poker tournament?” Jesse guessed, but Zamir shook his head.

Sabine also shook her head. “That too, I guess. But I’m talking about that Philip guy! He keeps coming down to the tavern.” She leaned in and whispered, conspiratorially, “He’s always sitting alone just… watching us! I think he’s been sent to spy on us.”

Zamir leaned in across her shoulder. “Translation: he’s been coming down for a glass of wine in the evenings, keeps to himself, and seems to enjoy people-watching. He doesn’t even sit close enough to listen in on anybody.”

“I keep telling you!” Sabine said emphatically, “He’s either lip reading, or he’s using, you know,” she wiggled her fingers around to suggest magic.

Jesse turned to Ngozi, who usually had a keen eye for these sorts of things. “If he is, I haven’t noticed,” she said simply. “It seems like he’s just relaxing.”

“Is he causing any issues?” Jesse asked, wondering if she needed to step in and intervene in some way.

“No,” Zamir and Ngozi said immediately. Jesse looked around the table to a few of the others who were listening in, and they shook their heads.

Sabine let out a frustrated huff, and said, reluctantly, “No. But he gives me the creeps.”

Jesse could understand that. Philip and the Magus weren’t exactly… expressive. Jesse had seen a wider range of emotion out of Magus Pope, but Philip always just looked… politely present. Jesse’s interactions with him had been weird, and she could imagine it would also feel weird if he just hung around watching people.

But Zamir and Sabine were still bickering. “Give the man a break,” Zamir groused, “Not only does he drive a carriage all day long, he’s also the Magus’ valet or something. Is it a crime to spend an hour drinking quietly by yourself?”

“Why doesn’t he drink in his room, like a normal butler?” Sabine shot back. Jesse could tell they’d probably been having this argument all week. “Why would he need to be down here if he wasn’t keeping an eye on us?”

“Why would he need to spy on us when the knights are down here every night too? It’s not like we’re hiding what we say around them. What’s even the point of spying on us to begin with?”

“Whatever,” Sabine rolled her eyes. “You’re just not bothered by him because you think he’s cute.”

Zamir gasped, offended. “I didn’t say cute, I just said he reminded me of Milo!”

“And presumably, you think your husband is cute, so.” And Sabine folded her arms, like she’d won the argument.

Zamir closed his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh. “Jesse. Please. Save us from this conversation. I’m so tired of talking about Philip.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” She asked, amused. Now probably wasn’t the best time to bring up that she’d invited Magus Pope to join them.

“Well,” Zamir recovered instantly, eyes sparkling with interest, “We could start with the basics. I’ve been dying to hear about what you got up to over the winter! The girls have been begging me for new stories, so, no pressure, but I hope you have some juicy ones saved up.”

By ‘the girls’ he meant his nieces, who loved hearing stories from their travels. Zamir went out of his way to collect stories from others in the towns they passed through, but apparently, Jesse’s stories were usually their favorites.

“Oh, yes!” Sabine said, the argument immediately forgotten. “Where did you stay? Anywhere new? Anything crazy happen?”

Others around the table leaned in, interested to hear the news. It was well-known that Jesse spent the off-seasons traveling around the kingdom. Sometimes she signed on with other caravans, sometimes she ventured out on her own. She picked up odd jobs wherever she went, usually working in exchange for room and board. And, more often than not, she was able to help out with other, stranger problems as well.

Jesse sat back and considered the past few months. “I spent a few weeks in a little village called Marisden. Do you want to hear about how a few missing chickens almost resulted in the revival of an ancient family blood feud?”

There were a few shared looks around the table. “That actually sounds kind of tame for you,” Zamir remarked.

“Unusually normal,” Sabine agreed.

“What’s the angle?” Someone else shouted out.

The others were convinced that Jesse stumbled across magical mishaps and bizarre encounters with forces beyond her understanding constantly, by accident. And, to be fair, she did seem to run into unusual situations more often than the average person. But they also didn’t know about her jinx, and how magic just sometimes… didn’t work on her. Jesse was safe (or at least, safer) in many situations that would be dangerous to others, so when magical problems came up, well… it only seemed right to step up and help. Which did mean that she was running into magical mishaps and bizarre encounters constantly, but it also meant that it was mostly on purpose.

“Okay, okay,” Jesse laughed. “What I didn’t mention was that this was after that big snowstorm around the solstice, and whatever was taking the chickens wasn’t leaving any tracks.” That got their attention. “It was a whole town of people who thought there was a dire beast waiting to curse them in the night, in a village so small they didn’t even have their own hedgemage, with the snow so high nobody would be able to reach the next town if they did get cursed.” She had them now, she could tell. “I thought I’d be staying somewhere quiet while the storm passed, but the situation turned crazy, fast. But if that’s too tame for everyone…”

She had timed it perfectly. Just as the others started to protest, Roland returned, an extremely unwise number of cups held between his enormous hands. A harried-looking serving woman followed after him with the rest, and helped him pass them out before bustling off again.

The others waited impatiently for Roland to get settled, and with a “Cheers!”, they all drank. Then everyone started clamoring to hear about Jesse’s chicken story. She let their eager curiosity wash over her, before leaning in to catch them up on the past few months.

It was good to be with her people again.

As she regaled them, she kept an eye on the doors for Magus Pope, but there was no sign of her. It was early still, and Jesse held out hope she’d make an appearance after things settled down a bit.

—

Later, after they had eaten and most of the group had peeled off to join Roland at the poker tables, Jesse was starting to think that Magus Pope had decided not to join them after all. She had just taken the first sip of her third beer when Sabine nudged her urgently in the side, jostling Jesse’s arm and causing a bit of beer to slosh out of the cup and onto her shirt. Before Jesse could complain, Sabine exclaimed, “Look! Isn’t that the Magus?”

They all snapped up and followed Sabine’s gaze over to the interior door, the one leading deeper into the hotel.

Magus Pope stood in the doorway, surveying the space with a neutral expression. Philip was nowhere to be seen, which was surprising. But even more surprising was that the Magus wasn’t wearing her usual robes.

Instead, she wore a structured white shirt with a high collar buttoned all the way up. The sleeves tapered out from the shoulder, becoming more full and billowy as they went, reaching their widest point at her forearms before they cut sharply inwards into tight cuffs around her wrists. The shirt was neatly tucked into a pair of black, high-waisted, fitted pants that hugged at her hips and followed the shape of her legs. They ended at a pair of simple black ankle-high boots. Several pieces of jewelry completed the look: a few tasteful rings adorned her fingers, and a silver pendant set with a black gem rested on her sternum.

Zamir hummed appreciatively. “Oh, very cute. I was starting to think she didn’t own anything besides the robes. She looks good out of uniform.”

Jesse had to agree. Magus Pope looked… elegant. Scholarly. Pretty, in a way that screamed money and refinement. Definitely out of place in a bar full of rowdy wagoners at the end of a long day on the road. Around the tavern, more heads turned towards her, eyeing her with equal parts interest and trepidation, but if the attention bothered her at all, she didn’t show it.

“I’m telling Milo,” Sabine teased, loosely flopping back over to bump into Zamir’s side.

“Please.” He wrapped an arm around her even as he rolled his eyes. “First of all, he’d agree with me. Second, I don’t really have a thing for rich assholes. Rich yes, asshole no.”

Magus Pope’s searching gaze fell on their table, on Jesse.

“Uh oh,” Sabine stage-whispered, turning big, concerned eyes to Jesse, “You think she’s here to yell at you again?”

Ngozi, always quick on the uptake, sounded resigned as she said, “Tell me you didn’t…”

“So… here’s the thing.” Jesse began. The others all turned to look at her curiously, except for Ngozi, who just looked exasperated. “I invited her here,” she explained. “I was hoping we could try having a drink together.”

She tried not to feel too disheartened as a ripple of unease spread through them. For a long moment, no one spoke. Jesse could feel Magus Pope’s eyes on her.

Zamir and Sabine looked at the Magus, then at each other, then back to Jesse. “Wasn’t she a massive bitch to you?” Zamir finally asked. “I’m not really getting a lot of friendly vibes from her.”

“Weren’t you the one who told us to avoid her?” Sabine added.

“And she could have us arrested if she wanted to, right?” Thea, the newest and youngest teamster, added nervously.

“I know, I know,” Jesse acknowledged, “But I heard from Arish that she’s not usually like that, and I think if we just gave her a chance, she might not be so bad."

Another moment of silence stretched out as the others glanced around at each other, clearly not convinced.

“Jesse,” Ngozi spoke up, understanding but firm, “I see what you’re trying to do, but has she apologized to you?”

“Well… no,” Jesse admitted, “But… she’s been busy.”

Ngozi raised her eyebrow at that. “We’ve been traveling together for almost a week. She’s had plenty of opportunity.”

Jesse shook her head, “Have you checked in on her in the storehouse during any of your shifts?”

Ngozi eyed Jesse incredulously. “No?”

“Then trust me. She’s been busy.” Jesse said firmly. “Besides, I don’t care if she apologizes or not. I’ve already forgotten about it. She was having a bad day, she made a mistake, it’s fine. If she does it again, then we’ll have a problem, but I’ve talked to her a bit since then and she’s seemed pretty reasonable. So, please. Don’t hold a grudge for my sake.” Jesse made sure to look at the four of them seated around her, but lingered the longest on Ngozi. “Just one night, that’s all I’m asking for.”

Her friend finally sighed. “Fine. If it’s that important to you, I’m in.”

Jesse looked at Zamir and Sabine.

“Sure, why not,” Sabine said gamely.

“Well, at least it’s bound to be interesting,” Zamir drawled.

Jesse nodded and turned to Thea.

“I umm… I think I’ll go watch them play poker for a while,” Thea said nervously. “Sorry, Jesse. She’s just… kind of scary.”

Jesse smiled reassuringly, “Trust me, I get it. Don’t worry about it.”

There was a brief shuffling of seats as Thea scurried off to the poker tables and Jesse disentangled herself from between Ngozi and Sabine.

“Alright,” she said, squaring her shoulders, preparing to face down the Magus’ cool scrutiny. “I’ll be right back.”

Magus Pope was still standing just inside the door, obviously waiting for Jesse to approach. Jesse tried to project an air of confidence she didn’t really feel as the weight of the Magus’ gaze grew heavier on her.

She stopped at a respectful distance and bowed. “Good evening, Magus Pope,” she said politely. “Would you like to join me and my friends for a drink?”

Magus Pope glanced back towards the tables where Jesse’s team sat—openly staring at them with an embarrassing lack of discretion—then back to Jesse. Jesse thought she saw a flicker of some kind of emotion before the Magus composed herself again.

“Yes, thank you,” she said politely. She hesitated for a moment, then took a step towards Jesse and made a subtle gesture for Jesse to come closer.

Jesse gulped, but obeyed, stepping into her space so that she was near enough to hear it when Magus Pope murmured, “Could you introduce me to your companions as Emily?”

This close, Jesse could pick up on a soft, floral scent that must have been some kind of perfume. She tried not to think about the fact that she herself probably stank like animals and sweat from a day spent on the road.

“Umm…” Jesse gathered her wits about her again quickly. “Sure, I can do that,” she whispered, just as quiet. “But…” It felt like a stupid question, but she’d been so sharply rebuked before that she had to ask, “Do you want me to call you Emily as well?”

Magus Pope—Emily?—looked genuinely surprised for just a moment, eyes going wide, then her expression smoothed out again. “Yes, please do.”

It felt like a win, and Jesse had to suppress a grin. This gamble of hers was already paying off. But the moment of elation quickly turned back to nerves as the Magus added, “I’d also like to speak to you privately later, before we part for the evening. If you don’t mind.”

Great. Now Jesse would be worrying about that all night. Not much she could do about it though, she just hoped it wasn’t anything serious. She cleared her throat. “As you wish… Emily.”

Emily nodded once, satisfied, then stepped back. “Shall we?”

Jesse turned back to her table and almost flinched when she saw how many eyes were on them. Her friends were still staring, but now Ngozi’s gaze contained a loaded question directed at Jesse in the form of a single raised eyebrow.

Around the room, folks were sending subtle and not-so-subtle glances their way. Some looked furtively as they raised their cups to drink, others twisted fully around in their seats. Several of the servers clustered together around the bar, engaged in a heated battle of rock paper scissors, occasionally glancing over at two of them worriedly. The poker games were still going on, but the eyes of the players weren’t solely on the cards.

Magus Pope—Emily—settled into her usual perfect posture, shoulders back, chin held high. If the attention of the room bothered her, she didn’t show it.

Jesse exhaled slowly and started walking, ignoring the stares as best she could. She was used to being an object of curiosity (and sometimes fear), but that didn’t mean she liked being at the center of this kind of attention. At least this time, Emily was the main focus, not her.

When they arrived at the table, Jesse made the introductions. “Everyone, this is Emily. Emily, this is Ngozi, Sabine, and Zamir.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Emily said, with a nod to the three of them.

The others all greeted her in turn, each of them sounding uneasy in their own way. Sabine sounded uncharacteristically shy, Zamir wary, and Ngozi was coolly distant.

Emily didn’t seem bothered. She smoothly took her seat on the bench opposite them, and Jesse climbed in next to her. Belatedly, she realized it might have been more proper to pull up a chair for her, but Emily didn’t seem to mind.

Almost instantly, one of the servers appeared next to them.

“Good evening, m’lady,” she said with a shaky curtsy, “Can I get you and your companions anything to eat or drink?” Although she was nominally speaking to the table, all of her attention was on Emily, and she was clearly nervous. Emily might not be wearing her robes, but it was obvious that she was a guest from the front of the hotel. Such guests usually took their meals and drinks in their rooms rather than mingle with the common rabble in the tavern, and they usually had their own staff to serve them. The tavern staff might never have had to interact with a person of her status before.

“White wine, whatever you have that isn’t too sweet,” Emily said promptly. She looked over the rest of them. “Please, order anything you like.”

Sabine and Zamir shared a look, then immediately ordered more expensive versions of their usual drinks. Ngozi abstained, grabbing Jesse’s forgotten mug of beer instead, and Jesse ordered her usual whiskey. She was tempted to get another glass of the stuff that Arish had brought the other night, but she didn’t want to take advantage of Emily’s generosity.

The server bustled away with their orders and silence descended over the table.

Now that introductions and drink orders were out of the way, Jesse wasn’t sure how to proceed. She had steered them all towards this moment with purpose, but now that they were actually sitting down together, the doubt crept in.

Her friends were obviously uncomfortable, and she wasn’t sure how to act around Emily. What if there were unspoken rules or etiquette she was supposed to follow, something beyond ‘bow and be polite’? Would Emily blow up at her again if she got it wrong?

What was worse was that Emily sat there, poised and unflappable. She was looking to each of them in turn, like she was evaluating them. Jesse could see the discomfort growing on the faces of her friends, and she wanted Emily to say something, to guide them in how to talk to her in this unfamiliar circumstance. She felt frustration start to creep in as Emily remained silent, and her silence started to feel like judgment.

Then Jesse caught movement out of the corner of her eye, below the table, where Emily’s hands were resting in her lap. There, out of sight from everyone else but Jesse, her hands moved, fiddling with something. Emily was twisting one of her rings around and around and around. The movement was restless—graceless—and it contrasted so sharply with the absolute calm Emily was otherwise projecting that it took Jesse a moment to realize the significance.

Emily was nervous.

Jesse’s attention snapped back up, and she quickly reassessed the woman in front of her. Emily’s posture no longer read as poised, it seemed stiff. Her evaluation wasn’t judgmental, it was uncertain. Her composure didn’t feel steady, it felt guarded.

Emily wasn’t speaking because she didn’t know what to say either.

And despite that, despite the fact that she was just as uncomfortable as Jesse’s friends—or maybe even more uncomfortable, because half the tavern was still staring at her, reminding her that she was an oddity, an outcast in this space—she had still shown up tonight at Jesse’s invitation.

Calm washed over Jesse. Emily might hide it better than most, but she was no different than any other anxious newbie trying to fit in with the group on their first week together on the road. For the first time since they met, Jesse felt like she knew exactly where they stood.

Jesse relaxed. Her shoulders loosened, she rested an easy elbow on the table, and leaned into the confidence she no longer needed to fake. “Thanks for coming out tonight, Emily.” The others all turned to look at her. “And thanks for the drinks.” The coil of tension wrapped around her team loosened as Jesse took the lead. “I’m glad you decided to join us.” And she smiled, honest and warm.

Emily’s answering smile was small, but no less honest, and beneath the table, her hands stilled.