“I’ll return to the flat and do just that,” Quint said.
“Let’s meet here tomorrow an hour before lunch,” Pozella said, and I’ll show you how to put the pouch together that will send that journal back to Gussellia.”
Quint spent his lunchtime putting the wizard’s effects in a box that went into a diplomatic pouch that Pozella brought to their meeting. Quint had already asked one of his roommates to deliver the pouch addressed to the wizard to the Gussellian embassy.
Master Pozella quickly checked the notebook with the copy Quint had made.
“This should take some pressure off you,” Pozella said. “Colonel Sarrefo secured the pouch and verified that the Gussellian embassy was still open.”
Quint found the roommate and fervently hoped Pozella was right about reducing the likelihood of Gussellians sending agents into the capital to retrieve the wizard’s possessions. The two Gussellian horses were also returned to the embassy after Amaria was notified she had to give up the horse by Colonel Sarrefo.
The early meeting didn’t release Quint from spending the afternoon with Pozella labeling the strings in the common tongue. As expected, most of the strings were ones Quint had already learned, but there were plenty left, with a surprising amount that Pozella had never learned.
“As you know, the ability to weave a certain thread is different among wizards. With only one hand, my current repertoire is limited. Here is the light spell that was used. The wizard calls it light paint. It is very advanced. Let’s go through some of the easier ones. I’ll take this home with me tonight,” Pozella said.
Quint took a deep breath. “No. I’ll make another copy first. This,” Quint poked the pages of the copy with the tip of his finger, “is too valuable to have only one version.”
Pozella chuckled. “I totally agree. Then try the liquid light string tonight. Cast it into a waste bin in an alley so the light won’t be detected. I would guess the light has a lifetime. If you can master the string, see how long the effect lasts.”
Quint spent the rest of the afternoon in his flat making the second copy. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Pozella, but he never liked Pozella’s refusal to teach him willot directly, and the unwillingness limited his reliance on the master.
He copied a third of the book before Marena cooked dinner. She didn’t ask him to help clean up, so Quint worked on mastering liquid light. The string was made by very complicated weaves that were based on the light string, but then there were three other weaves that Quint spent two hours mastering, but he finally succeeded and walked into the building’s back garden. There were three trash barrels, but they were all full.
Quint looked around, found a spade, and dug a hole in a vacant flowerbed. He’d cover the light with dirt. It took him another twenty minutes to duplicate the threads and the string, but he succeeded and attempted to cast a tiny amount of liquid light into the hole. Part of the weave gave the string’s magic the ability to project the light toward a target. Perhaps that was written in willot in the notes.
He used very little magic and liquid light, not as bright as what hit Amaria’s back, dribbled into the hole. That was enough. He’d need a lot of practice to control that string anyway. Tossing it as far as the Gussellian wizard had to have taken a toll on the officer’s power.
Satisfied that Quint could perform the spell without reading willot boosted the value of the book of strings in his estimation. He spent the rest of the night finishing the second copy.
Morning came too early. One of his flatmates woke Quint and said he was expected to be in the colonel’s office first, which gave Quint barely enough time to wash and dress. He’d have to eat something on the way to the strategic operations building.
Colonel Sarrefo was alone in his office when Quint arrived and was invited in.
“Shut the door and take a seat,” the colonel said. “I have received a formal copy of Amaria’s report. There are a few accusations inside that I’d like to clear up.”
“Yes, sir,” Quint said. His nerves just increased.
“She said you deserted her during the escape.”
“She changed the report after she returned to Bocarre, sir!” Quint shook his head. “I left her after she refused to eat with me. I asked her if my presence made her uncomfortable, and she admitted it did. I couldn’t trust her then, and since we were half a day away from Bocarre, I decided I would go ahead without her.”
“She also claimed that you convinced her to desert the field of battle, claiming that you knew how to cast a portent string.”
“And she denies that I described to her how the battle would unfold before it happened?”
“Something to that effect. I can’t let you read it. Her father slapped a restrictive cover on her report.”
Quint frowned. “I’ve cast a portent string three times in my life, twice on the battlefield. The one I did in my first taste of battle was done the day before the battle, and it was generally accurate. The second one was at the Gussellian fight and cast at the beginning of the battle. It was accurate since I abandoned it when I realized the officer corps would be attacked from both flanks, sir.”
Sarrefo knit his brow. “And you warned the officers?”
Quint nodded. “I did, sir, but they ignored me. Amaria didn’t have a weapon, so I told her what would happen, and she agreed to leave with me. We were observers, not fighters, if you recall, sir.”
“I recall, Lieutenant Tirolo. The rest of her report puts her in the position of leader. The only time that changed was at the pub. She claimed she had the situation in hand until you attacked the Gussellian soldiers and forced her to run.”
Quint found it hard to control his temper, but he had to in front of his commanding officer. “You read my account. I swear mine is correct, sir.”
“I believe you, but few will fervently want to believe otherwise. Along with the report came a note saying that you may be reassigned because of Amaria’s account.”
“But I like it here, sir. I’m almost accepted.”
Sarrefo chuckled. “I believe you are, but if a reassignment comes from headquarters…”
“Signed by Amaria’s father, sir?” Quint asked.
“Signed by her father or any of his peers, I will be bound to comply, and you will, too. I will recommend that you continue receiving training and counsel from Master Pozella, but I can’t promise anything.”
“I’d appreciate that, sir. Am I still assigned to my group until I’m ordered to leave?” Quint asked.
“You are, and I understand they will be meeting soon. You should prepare. You are dismissed, Lieutenant Tirolo.”
Quint stood and saluted. “Thank you, sir.”
He left feeling greatly disturbed about Amaria’s duplicity, which was worse than he had anticipated, and his inability to dispute her description of what happened. Quint’s time once he had been promoted to lieutenant was better than any other time while he was in the Racellian Wizard Corps.
