-10 years prior-

Waves lapped placidly against the stone jetty Marigold walked upon. The ocean bespelled her. Watching ships sailing in and out from the King’s Capital City, she considered buying passage on one and seeing the southern island chains. She wondered what magics she might encounter in those exotic places.

Then the cold wind off the water whipped up and reminded her of the aching in her joints.

“Sea travel, old woman?” she queried of herself. “Just what I need, a rocking deck underneath my feet when I already dread going back up the stairs I took to get down here.”

She chortled at herself as she made her way back up the spray-slick steps to the street. The King’s Capital City felt perpetually busy. Even on this little side street above a strip of beach, people and animals and carts and messengers dashed hither and thither with no mind whatsoever for an old woman who simply wanted an unobstructed look at the ocean. It had been a pleasant enough walk in the seaside air getting here, but now she was thinking of a hot meal in the warm common room of her inn.

The capital had seemed the inevitable destination for her after three years of roaming all over Kaldura. Since leaving her position as Mage-Matron at Black Crux Manor, she had felt too restless to return to Moonfane Forge. Besides, it had its resident mage, her own Mage-Matron, Mantis, who had taught her when she was young. Mantis would doubtlessly have taken on a new apprentice by now, one to step into her place when the time came. No, Marigold needed to find her own place elsewhere in the kingdom, a position for a mage of her caliber.

But rather than finding employment, she had without thinking settled into an extended period of Journeying. How strange it was that a master mage, particularly one of her age, would be wandering the roads from town to town, learning and practicing new magics wherever she could. Often, she had wondered if it was her way of rectifying things in the wake of training Gilliana against her own better judgement, a mistake that had resulted in the woman ultimately using Barrier-Casting to murder her husband. Marigold deeply regretted the chain of events that had led to Lord Marcus’s death. She still puzzled over how her apprentice had managed to work such a horrific spell.

Maybe that was why she persisted in her travels, because she hoped to one day understand what Gilliana had done and be able to prove it.

In the ensuing years, however, she had found she enjoyed seeing as much of the kingdom as possible for its own sake. She visited so many new places—large cities, small hamlets, and everything in between—met other mages, taught, and learned. Thus far, she had turned down all offers of employment as a resident mage and still steadfastly refused to take on another apprentice. Where she ultimately intended to settle, and what she intended to do there, she hadn’t a clue. So, inevitably, over the course of years, she had made her way from Black Crux in the far northeast to here, the King’s Capital City, all the way in the far southwestern corner of the kingdom. She couldn’t get any farther away than that. Not unless she fancied a voyage by ship.

Marigold chuckled again at the idea. She shook her head, mumbled to herself, “About as much as I fancy a swift kick to the backside.”

Stopping in the road, she took stock of her surroundings. Was it this cross street or the next that would see her back to her inn? The capital was such a large city. Truly, it was more like a number of smaller cities all clustered into one. She scolded herself for not keeping better track of the various turns she had taken while making her way down to the shore. She chose the next turn she could take and followed it along sandy-hued cobbles up a gentle, meandering slope. It didn’t take long to ascertain she had chosen wrong, but there were a number of interesting shops this way, and there was a mouthwatering aroma of roasting meat and spices coming from up ahead. She might as well take her meal at whichever establishment the alluring smell was coming from, then ask directions back to her inn. As long as she didn’t dally and made it back in time to get a full night’s rest. She had an early appointment with a mage of King Caiside V’s court and she was not about to oversleep and miss it.

She spotted the eatery around the next turn. Thick joints of meat were roasting on spits out in front of the place. Yes, this was the place she would eat at. Then her eye was drawn to a little curio shop next door. The front window displayed various foreign knickknacks and baubles, along with a gilded cage full of colorful birds twittering the most melodious little songs. Marigold smiled and went inside. The shop’s interior was warm and tinged with the smell of incense.

“Welcome, madam,” a pudgy, dark-skinned man in a green robe greeted her. “I am honored to have a mage visit my little establishment. “If I’m not mistaken ...” He stroked his thin beard. “You would hail from the far northern regions, up past the Karkhuls. Welcome to the King’s Capital City.” Before Marigold could confirm this, the man grinned and gave an absent wave of his hand. “You have that look about you. My family originated there. In fact, I had a great aunt who had eyes much like yours—gray as rainclouds.

Marigold smirked. “That’s a good trick, young man. Ah, but I’m more interested in how you marked me for a mage,” she said, tactfully not confirming it one way or the other.

“Easy enough,” he replied. “I could sense magic from you as you entered my shop. I have a very small talent for it. Not enough to be trained, mind you, but I always had a vested interest in magic. You might find, ah ... that shelf over there to your liking.” He stood up on tiptoes and pointed to the far corner of his shop. “I’ve amassed a small collection of texts written by various mages.”

“Have you now?” said Marigold. She was no spring chicken. She had met her fair share of merchants and shopkeepers who would swear up and down that the magical artefacts they possessed were rare and authentic. Very, very few of them truly were. But she humored the man and went to the shelf.

She had expected the usual much-circulated books written about various mages and magics, or volumes that collected snippets of writings from famous mages of old—the kinds of things that were popular with aristocrats who took an interest in the subject. What Marigold did not expect was to recognize one of the books before even picking it up, because she herself had been tasked with reading it decades earlier. Not a copy, but the original, in the hand of her teacher’s teacher. What was it doing here? It should still be sitting on its shelf, back in the house she grew up in, in Moonfane Forge.

“Ahh, you have a good eye.” The shopkeeper spoke from directly behind her when she lifted the volume. “That was penned by—”

“Mage-Master Beetle,” Marigold said.

“Yes. He practiced a lesser-known magic, but was considered a master of exceptional skill. You’re familiar with him?”

“I should be,” replied Marigold. “He was Mage-Master to my own Mage-Matron.”

“Your own ...” the shopkeeper trailed off.

“Mage-Matron Mantis,” said Marigold.

For a brief moment, the shopkeeper’s forehead creased, then his eyebrows shot up. “Oh! Truly? Well, then it is a fortunate day for me, isn’t it? You’ll surely be interested in this item, then!” He went bustling back to his desk and returned with another book, jabbering, “I only just received this one in a second shipment from Moonfane Forge ...”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Marigold snatched the book directly out of his hands. She knew this one, too! She didn’t need to open it. She knew every nick and scratch across its worn cover by heart. It was a volume on various topics of magic written by her teacher, Mantis, and it had lived on the bookshelf in her house. Both this book and the one penned by Beetle were teaching tools, one-of-a-kind books meant to be passed down from mage to mage, not sold.

“I’m certain you weren’t aware,” she said, putting a note of sternness into her voice that she hoped the shopkeeper would not mistake. “But these were stolen. Mantis would never sell these books. They are tantamount to personal journals.”

The shopkeeper held up his hands placatingly and showed a disarming smile. “Ah, ah! I am certain you are mistaken, madam. Perhaps not in her lifetime. But I can assure you these were not stolen, but purchased legitimately with my own coin, in person in Moonfane Forge. I do not deal in stolen goods. Now, if you would like to buy them, I can make you a very fair bargain for the pair. Now, seeing as how you knew her ...”

“In her lifetime?” Marigold dropped her arm to her side. The change in the shopkeeper’s expression told her all she needed to know.

“Oh,” said the man. He opened his mouth, closed it, then started again. “I am sorry. You had not known that Mage Mantis of Moonfane Forge passed away?”

Marigold’s chin trembled as she managed only to ask, “When?”

“Last year, madam,” he said in a softened tone. “I received word from a friend recently that some of her possessions were being sold, as she’d had no apprentice to leave them to. I ... was only acquiring items that I had an interest in, being concerned with magic. I traveled there myself and bought them fairly, at great expense. You have my condolences for the loss of your teacher. Know that I mean no disrespect when I say that I still must make my money back if you wish to buy one or both. I will make you a good bargain.”

The book very nearly slipped from Marigold’s fingers they so quaked at this sorrowful news. Had Mantis been ill? Fading? If Marigold had known, she would have gone to her. The woman had treated her like a daughter. How could she not have gone back home to visit her even once in the three years since leaving Black Crux? She should have. And Mantis had not taken a new apprentice? Not even an attendant? Who had been in charge of what she left behind? No one with even a passing knowledge of the importance of a mage’s personal writings would ever have conceived of selling them off to a merchant.

She had to return home to Moonfane Forge, to take up Mantis’s position and make certain her legacy was honored.

Somewhere in the background of her awareness, the shopkeeper was rattling off expenses—for travel, for shipments, for tariffs. He quoted a price.

“What?” Marigold spouted reflexively. “Are you daft? That’s more coin than I could raise in a year.”

“It’s a one-of-a-kind book, madam.”

“It’s a stolen book.”

“I ... ah ... I cannot ...” The man made a delicate plucking gesture with his hand for the book. The message was clear. If Marigold was not going to buy it from him, he no longer wished her to be holding it.

She snatched it out of his reach. “Make ya a trade,” she declared. “You’re interested in magic?”

“Ah ... yes,” he answered. His face showed more worry than intrigue, but Marigold forged ahead.

“Ever seen real Barrier-Casting?”

“As a matter of fact, madam, yes! I once had a Barrier-Caster visit my shop and cast a Barrier over that very birdcage in my window, so that when the cage was opened, the birds still could not escape, try as they might!” The excitement in the man’s face as he described this simple feat was all Marigold needed to seize upon.

She cackled. “That’s all? Child’s play! No, no, no, young man. I asked you if you’d ever seen real Barrier-Casting.”

Now, there was intrigue on the man’s face, along with the telltale glint in the eyes universal to merchants when they heard of an interesting bargain. “For that book? It would have to be a spell of magnificent proportions, madam. One that I could tell my grandchildren about. One that all the people out there on the street could witness and spread the word that my shop is the one to patronize. An advertisement, if you will.”

Marigold scoffed. Yes, she could do that. But, then again, she had learned much in recent years, and had improved yet further upon her already masterful skills. One of the tenets of mastery was using only just enough magic to get the job done, and no more. Magnificence was earned, not given out in exchange for stolen personal effects.

“Follow me,” she said. She also grabbed up the first book she had looked at, the one written by her teacher’s teacher, adding, “And this one, too.” With that, she strode back through the shop toward the door.

“Th-that one, too? This better be a spell worthy of—”

“I’m going to match the trick with the bird cage,” Marigold declared over him. “On a much grander scale.” Without even waiting for the shopkeeper’s leave, she swept her hand across the door of the birdcage. A tiny golden Barrier appeared across it. She neatly flicked open the cage door to show that the birds could still not escape. Then, with the books pinched securely under her arm, she continued on her way out the door of the shop.

“Wait!” the shopkeeper called, following her outside. “You are not taking those without a more impressive spell than that! On second thought, perhaps I expressed enthusiasm for this bargain too hastily. If you would please give me the books back, we will part ways amicably today. Then, when you have the coin for—”

Marigold turned sharply to face the man. “Who said I was done? Now, watch.” With another sweep of her hand, Marigold cast a perfectly formed Barrier across the shop’s open door. For his part, the merchant appeared suitably pleased at getting to witness such a Casting.

But quickly, he recomposed his face. He went to the newly shimmering Barrier and pressed on it, finding it impassable. “I grant you, that is impressive. I have never personally seen its like before this day,” he admitted, though his voice betrayed a growing impatience. “But locking me out of my shop for the amusement of passerby is still not a spell worthy of such valuable items. Now, please—”

“Still not done,” Marigold declared. With a small motion of her fingers, she dispelled the tiny Barrier keeping the birds caged in the shop. Immediately, they flew out the open cage door and scattered in all directions, fluttering wildly about the shop looking for means of escape.

“What are you doing?” The shopkeeper practically whined the question. He pushed against the Barrier again. “Let back me in, please! There are fragile and extremely valuable items in there that their ... leavings could ruin!”

Marigold waited a beat. It was amusing watching the man put his shoulder into the Barrier, no matter how much it withstood his efforts. This was serious, however. She had nothing against the merchant; perhaps he truly did think he’d bought the books fairly, though Marigold knew that whoever had sold them hadn’t had the right to do so. The knowledge of that, and the sad news of her teacher’s passing, left her with little humor today. She needed to conclude this business and be on her way.

“We’re in agreement then? That the Dispelling of a Barrier would be a magnificent enough spell to earn these two books for me?” The merchant goggled at her. She spoke plainly. “A Dispelling in exchange for the books. Make up your mind quick, before those birds shit all over your shop.”

The shopkeeper pushed his fingers to his temples, then he waved his hand at her and relented. “Yes! Yes! Take the books, they are yours. Now, give me back my shop!”

Marigold made no fuss about it. She passed her hand across the doorway and the Barrier vanished out of existence. The shopkeeper didn’t even spare her a glance before he rushed into his shop, slamming the door shut behind him.

Marigold felt no satisfaction in her deed, but it got the job done. There was no time to waste. Truly, her teacher, Mage-Matron Mantis, had died a year prior? And without an apprentice or attendant left in her wake? Her house. Her possessions. Her legacy and obligations. Who was seeing to those things? And Moonfane Forge? It was without a mage to help watch over it? Marigold’s sorrow intermingled with a new sense of duty. She had to go there, to the Silversmith’s District, and speak with the heads of the town. Her period of roaming was over. It was time for her to return home and take up her rightful obligations.

That decision was the easiest one she had made in a decade. As she strode up the street, she felt lighter, and not only because of the impending Slumber that creeped in on her. She bypassed the eatery. Food could wait. Similarly, she would not be attending her appointment in the king and queen’s court in the morning at all. She needed to make arrangements to travel home immediately.

Moonfane Forge would not be without its mage.