“Any questions?”
About a thousand, but I swallowed most of them. “Why isn’t Master Cowan my mentor anymore?”
“She does not have enough experience to handle your…unique situation. Anything else?”
I tapped the paper on my leg. “I already attended Magical Ethics and Famous and Infamous Magicians Throughout History.”
“Consider it a refresher.”
His words stung like a hard slap on the wrist. I studied his expression, searching for the real reason. His gray eyes showed nothing but polite interest. A stark contrast to his wild hair. Of all the Master Magicians, Bloodgood, with his long, flowing robes and lack of concern over his personal grooming, matched my imagination for someone with a Master title.
“I will see you tomorrow evening.” Bain dismissed me.
Remembering my promise to Yelena, I nodded and left. Without conscious thought I arrived at the glass shop, only to be stopped by a Keep’s guard stationed next to the door.
“Sorry, miss, you’re not allowed inside without a…companion,” the man said. He fingered the hilt of his weapon and glanced about as if nervous.
Scared of me? I suppressed a laugh, knowing if I let it go, the humor would transform into sobs. “I’m not going to work with the glass. I just want to talk to my sister.”
“Sorry. No.” The young man puffed up his chest as if expecting a fight.
“Can you tell her I’m here?”
He deflated. “Er…I guess. Don’t move.” Opening the door, he leaned in and called for Mara, then resumed his position.
Mara hustled out. “For sand’s sake, why don’t you just come in? I have a vase on the rod.”
“The General here won’t let me.” I pointed to the guard.
She balled her skirt in her fists, heating up to blast the poor man.
“It’s not his fault,” I said before she could let loose. “He’s following orders. Can you stop by my rooms when you’re done for the day?”
Aiming a tight nod at me, she returned to the glass shop. An afternoon without plans loomed. Freedom…sort of. After taking a few moments to decide, I walked toward the stable.
Quartz’s delighted whinny banished the dark cloud around me. I tossed my cloak over a stall door and immersed myself in the simple pleasure of grooming her. When her coat gleamed, I hopped onto her back and practiced riding her without saddle, reins and bridle.
The midday sun warmed the air. We trotted in the training ring, doing figure eights. Remembering our close escape in Ognap, I steered her with my knees toward a series of low wooden barriers. Her muscles bunched under me as she skipped over the hurdles, landing with nary a bump. The next set of obstacles was two feet higher than the first.
Quartz flew over them with ease. I matched the rhythm of her gait, moving my body with hers. The power from her muscles soaked into me and I felt as if we no longer existed as two separate beings.
We turned to the last series of jumps. About six feet high, the four barriers seemed a mere nuisance to our heightened senses. We increased our pace and launched, landed, took four more strides, then another jump. Losing track of the time, we circled the ring until fatigue broke us apart and we returned to horse and rider. I dismounted and we walked a few more laps so she could cool down.
She matched my pace, her soft steps in the dirt the only sound. The Stable Master leaned on a fence post, watching us in silence.
Back at the stable, I rubbed her down as the Stable Master ran his hand along her legs, checking for hot spots.
“You found the zone,” he said. “That state where you and Quartz united and became one. Makes up for all those hours of shoveling horse manure. Doesn’t it?”
“Yes. Does it only happen when riding bareback?”
“Bareback helps. Physical contact is important. You can find the zone when using a saddle, but it’s much harder.” He fed Quartz a milk oat. “She’s a good jumper with strong legs. You were flying over those expert hurdles after only a short warm-up.” He scratched behind her ears and she closed her eyes with a grunt of bliss. “I was going to yell at you to stop, but it was fun seeing you take on those jumps.”
When the Stable Master left, I returned Quartz to her stall. Empty of students, the stable’s earthy scent and peaceful atmosphere beckoned, increasing my desire to find a hay bale and sit. But my past adventures had exposed all my weaknesses, so I searched for the Weapons Master.
I found Captain Marrok in the armory, sharpening swords. Waiting for him to finish, I examined the various weapons hanging on the walls and stacked on tables—an impressive collection. I fingered the hilt of a switchblade. My sais worked well for defense, but they couldn’t be hidden. I needed a smaller offensive weapon.
“Hello, Opal! Welcome back,” Marrok said. He sheathed the blade and set it into a bin. He had cropped his gray hair to a bristle. Tall and tanned like leather, he reminded me of a wooden practice sword—nicked, well-worn, yet still strong.
Marrok pulled off his gloves. “The rumors about you have been rather spectacular.”
“And they’re all true.” I didn’t want him to repeat them, preferring to remain ignorant.
He laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m an old soldier. I don’t believe anything unless I’m ordered to believe it.”
“Good to know.”
“What can I help you with?”
“I want to get back on a training schedule.”