It wasn't every day that you did a great favor for the most powerful and influential person in a village. Even in the Wild Mages, where they didn't believe in money and they certainly didn't like outsiders who hadn't proven themselves, I found myself approached by quite a few people in the camp, all offering their congratulations on my task of returning Zerial Thunderborn's map. They weren't ingratiating in their offers, but it still made me slightly uncomfortable.

“Good work on that, lad,” one said, grinning as he shook my hand with both of his own. “You did a good thing today.”

“Hardly,” I replied. I was over the rush of excitement by then. “I just happened to have the map when I found out it was missing. I didn't go there to retrieve it.”

“Still,” he said, “You're rising quickly in this camp. If you ever need help learning something, let me know.”

It was Gogo who spoke next because I couldn't think of anything to say to that. She stepped closer, and in the same movement, forced the man to back up a pace, releasing his grip on my hand. “What can you teach him?”

“I am quite skilled at Divination magic,” the man replied, holding himself erect and assuming a superior tone. “I was a teacher once, I'll have you know.”

“I'm sure he was some backwoods villager teacher,” another voice piped up. I turned and saw yet another figure approaching. This was a Wild Mage, not a visitor. “I can teach you Divination magic myself, and I'm a recognized master.”

The first mage let out a low grumble, but shifted away, his shoulders hunched. The Wild Mage grinned as he extended a hand. I was pleased that he didn't force the handshake on me but waited for me to reciprocate. I did. “You better get used to that kind of sycophancy quickly.”

“What do you mean?” I asked him. “He offered to teach me magic, and didn't ask for anything in return.”

That made the Wild Mage laugh. Even Gogo chuckled, but I didn't get the joke. The Wild Mage explained it to me. “Oh trust me, he wanted something in return. In fact, he wanted one specific thing.”

I thought about that for a few seconds as Gogo and the Wild Mage watched me, and then it clicked. I could have kicked myself for not seeing it sooner. “Are you kidding me? He was only being polite because I know Tempest Surge? He wanted me to teach him the spell?”

The Wild Mage tapped one finger to the side of his nose in a familiar gesture. “Right in one. You'll get a lot of preferential treatment from the other people in the camp. They'll all want to learn that spell.”

“I've already been approached by about six people,” Gogo put in. “Not that I'm interested in being a teacher, but you wouldn't believe the offers I was given.”

Just then, another Wild Mage came by, watching the three of us as they passed. They didn't say anything, but the look of distrust on their face spoke louder than their actions. We locked eyes for a moment, and I was almost tempted to take a step back, to give the Wild Mage more room. But I didn't. The Wild Mage that had approached us first notice the interaction, and grinned.

“You've got a spine on you, that's for sure,” he said, letting out a low cackle. Oh, but where are my manners? I'm Stormsong.”

“Tuck,” I replied. “Stormsong, eh? That means that you're a musician. That's rare.”

“Actually,” Stormsong said, “I'm a Chaos Sage. I started as a bard, but I don't play any instruments. I was named that because I warp Chaos with my voice instead of my hands. I use psionics.”

I was impressed, but I did my best to hide it. Psionics weren't easy to learn, let alone master. I'd made it that way on purpose. Masters of psionics were few and far between. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that he was the only one in the camp, and there were only a few people that could have taught him.

“I thought you said you were a master of divination,” I said, tilting my head and frowning at Stormsong. “You mean to tell me that you're not only a master at warping Chaos and psionics, but also Divination?”

Stormsong let out another cackle. “Hardly. I only said that to get that leech away. The truth is, I want to learn divination next. I'm trying my hand at Dreamwalking.”

“That's not exactly easy magic to pick up,” I replied. “The followers of Rorshach are the only ones that know that, and I didn't think they were interested in teaching outsiders just yet.”

Stormsong nodded, his face showing a resigned sort of weariness. “That's the truth, alright. I've met three dreamwalkers in the last year, and none of them were remotely interested in sharing what they knew.”

I studied him for a moment, thinking on what I knew about the magic of Dreamwalking. It had been developed by the recently ascended God of Dreams, Rorshach. He was an Ancient, one of the oldest and most powerful races to exist in Ahya. Well, strictly speaking, he was created over a hundred years ago, but he was still an Ancient in body, mind, and soul. It was what had allowed him to overcome the Chaos that had gripped his mind and ascend. He had used his power and mastery over the mind to create the magic school of Dreamwalking.

“If they won't teach you, then I don't see how you can learn it,” Gogo replied. “I assume you've tried to offer your own knowledge in trade.”

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“And then some,” Stormsong said, letting out a long sigh. “But they refuse to teach me, and I'm not the type to force someone to do something against their will.”

“Which means,” I said, as a sudden thought struck me, “That your only choice left is Arcana.”

A slow grin spread across Stormsong's face as he understood what I meant. “Yes, that's exactly what I was thinking. You're a sharp one, alright. Nobody but Zerial has gotten that yet.”

“I wasn't aware that Arcana had a particularly strong presence in Zaban,” I said. I spoke as if I was uncertain, but I knew it to be a fact. Zaban had a heavy focus on the natural magicks, even when Chaos was mixed in. “You'd have to leave your home to find what you wanted.”

With an even larger grin, Stormsong reached into a pocket of his robe and produced a folded piece of parchment. “My thoughts exactly.”

I glanced at the parchment, realizing it was a letter. While I couldn't read what was inside, I did recognize the seal that was stamped on the outside. A stooping owl in silver ink, clutching a scroll. The symbol of the Mage's College in Milagre. That meant that it was either a letter of acceptance to study with the largest magical education organization, or a refusal. And his grin didn't hint at refusal.

“When do you leave?” I asked. “It's a pity to get to know you if you'll be gone soon.”

“I'm boarding a ship on the second day of the week after next,” he said. “Which means that I'll be leaving the camp next Temple Day.”

“What a coincidence,” Gogo replied with a laugh. “That's also when we were planning on leaving.”

“But I'll wager you already knew that,” I guessed, grinning at Stormsong. “So you came here to ask us to travel with you?”

“I did not,” he replied. “I knew you planned on leaving the same day, and that there was a good chance we'd end up on the same ship. But I had no intention of traveling with you.”

Gogo threw me a sidelong glance, her grin shifting into something more thoughtful. “He's measuring us, Tuck.”

“More accurately, I'm making sure that you're someone I could stand being in close proximity to,” Stormsong corrected her. “I'm pleased to see that my initial hunch about you two was correct.”

“Huh,” I replied, confused and pleased in equal measure. “I'm not against being tested, but I'd rather know it's happening.”

“I would apologize, but that would be a waste of both of our time. But now that I know I like you, I have an offer for you.”

“You want to learn Tempest Surge?”

“Hardly. Weaving the elements isn't my interest, even if I didn't know the spell. It's a little gaudy, but I need gold to secure passage to Milagre.”

“We have gold,” I replied at once, not bothering to hide the fact. “What are you offering in return?”

At this, Stormsong spared a quick glance around the camp. At first, I thought he was looking for someone, but quickly realized that he was checking for eavesdroppers. Nobody was looking in our direction at that moment, however, so he returned his gaze to me and pulled something else out of one of his pockets. It was a small book, worn and stained in several places.

“This is my notebook,” he said unnecessarily. “In it, I've recorded every spell on countermagicks I know.”

“You're offering me spells in return for my coin?” I asked, slightly disappointed. “I could learn spells from a variety of sources in Milagre if I joined the College as well. I could even pay for the knowledge if I wanted.”

Privately, I wondered why I was being so hesitant to accept the offer. True, I could learn countermagicks from just about anybody. But Zerial's last words to me rang in my head. Make sure you get something good out of it. Spells were useful, sure, but Stormsong had no method of funding his travel without me, which meant that I could get far more out of the deal if I pressed the issue.

“I'm not offering you the spells,” he replied quickly, his eyes flashing. He opened the notebook to a page that was marked with a feather and handed it over. Then something strange happened. His left hand, the one not holding the book, made a quick circular motion. Just then, a powerful gust of wind blew through the camp, kicking up a decently sized cloud of dust. By sheer bad luck, it missed me completely, but Gogo caught a faceful of it, and let out a curse, rubbing her eyes to try and clear them.

I glanced down at the notebook and felt my heart skip a beat. I almost fainted as I read the words. I know what you are to this world, and can teach you something that no mortal mage can learn. At the bottom of the page was inscribed a symbol. Indeed, no mortal could ever learn the word. Even if they pronounced it properly, they couldn't hope to unleash the power that it contained.

You have learned a new Ancient word!

[Laban] has been added to your list of spells.

He pulled the notebook from my hand just as Gogo cleared the last of the sand from her eyes, and snapped it shut. “Of course, if that isn't to your liking, then I can also offer you this.”

From the same pocket that he'd retrieved the notebook, he now pulled out a small bronze coin. It wasn't bronze as in the money, because it bore no mark to indicate where it was made. Instead, it bore two hands clasped in agreement. Then he flipped it over to reveal the opposite side, and for the second time in less than a minute, my heart skipped. Shiora Tokugawa. It was a debt marker. An iron-clad agreement that Shiora Tokugawa owed a minor debt to whoever held the coin and returned it to him.

Bronze, the lowest level of debt markers, was not much to be proud of. On average, it amounted to no more than a hundred gold coins. It represented a minor effort on behalf of the giver. But in this case, the giver was a famous figure. One of the few living members of the Tokugawa clan, the elite group of warriors that held incredible influence in Milagre. His son, Ehran Tokugawa, was the current Grandmaster and Captain of Issho-Ni, the foremost peace-keeping organization in the world.

I knew at once that I had no choice but to accept. Quite apart from that, I was glad to. The trade-off was heavily in my favor, and I couldn't hope to get a deal anywhere else. Still, I felt some trepidation. I know what you are to this world. That's what the words in his notebook had said. And I was certain that he'd conjured the gust of wind that had temporarily blinded Gogo, preventing her from seeing what was written and discovering my secret. I didn't know how Stormsong knew, but I was certain that he wasn't bluffing. He knew exactly what and who I was.

“I accept,” I said at once. He grinned, expecting nothing less. “We'll leave on the next Temple Day.”