‘Just leave mug at front desk! I collect tomorrow,’ he said, bobbing his head with a nod, as he turned to begin making her drink. She placed the payment for it on the counter, to a call of ‘Thank!’ from the man, but he did not turn around to count the coin, leaving her with a moment of silence.
Besides him, the place was almost empty. There was one other woman sat by the window, reading. Syline approached the front of the shop to check through the window to see if the man was following her, looking this way and that up the street, without daring to duck her head outside. The snow fell thick now; it was hard to see far past the light of the shop, but she saw no sign of him. A shudder ran through her. She knew she was being silly; no one would be foolish enough to chase after a daughter of the king’s general, indeed, the king’s god-daughter, but still, the thought of running into him in the burgeoning dark raced through her mind.
‘Are you alright?’
The voice almost jolted her out of her skin. It was the woman. Looking at her properly, Syline could see she was probably around her age, her short cropped white hair had made Syline mistakenly think she’d have been far older. She wore a maid’s skirts, but had a thick, traveller’s leather jacket thrown over them.
‘Hmn? Oh, yes, I’m, I’m fine. Thank you.’ Syline’s cheeks felt flushed. She didn’t want to admit to this woman she was nervous to leave over something so silly. Desperate for something to change the topic, she took note of the book the woman was reading.
‘Oh, is that the Wyvernclaw Tales?’
The woman paused, blinking at her, before looking down at the book she read. She paused to mark her page with a red bookmark, styled to look like a mote of flame, closing it as she replied.
‘Yes, it is, volume two.’ She looked back up, giving her a smile. ‘Have you read it?’
‘I’m reading the third volume now. Where are you up to?’
‘I’m about halfway. Cain has just found out where his powers come from. Were you getting a coffee? You’re welcome to sit with me if you’d like.’
‘I can’t,’ Syline stammered, ‘I’ll be late for my lessons at the library. I’m just taking my drink to go. But,’ she trailed off.
‘But? You seem nervous about something.’
Syline sighed. She’d been caught. Her eyes trailed to the door as her hands came to hug her biceps.
‘I… there, there was a man, a thug. He harassed me in an alley near here and I embarrassed him. I’m just a little rattled and a little scared he may have followed me.’
‘My mistress is expecting me back at the library soon.’ The young woman stood up, draining the last of her own drink. It was the same syrup and cream heavy concoction Syline had ordered. A dreadfully sweet mix Gustaf had brought from his homeland, which hearsay said, was even colder than Russenholde.
‘Why don’t I walk with you? I doubt he’d be fool enough to bother two armed young women,’ she offered with a small smirk, nodding to a sword Syline had failed to notice on her hip.
A sigh of relief slid out of Syline, though she tried to stifle it.
‘I’d like that,’ she began, before giving a small curtsy. ‘I’m Syline Petranski,’ she said as she stood back up straight, ‘and you are?’
‘Lauralee Lupa. I am Lady Jane Petrov’s personal assistant. She’s doing some study at the library presently.’
‘Lady Petrov? Oh, I’ve always wanted to meet her, maybe you could…’
‘Lady Petraska! Your drink ready!’ Gustaf interrupted.
A little grin crinkled Syline’s features.
‘Coming, Gustaf!’ she called back, before finishing, ‘maybe you could introduce me to her some time?’
Lauralee cocked her head at that but gave a small nod.
‘Perhaps,’ she said, waving for Syline to collect her drink.
When Syline returned, the other young women offered her arm to her, like a knight would to a lady. Syline had walked with her father’s soldiers like that in the past, even the prince once, but having another girl protecting her felt a tad embarrassing. Despite that, she took Lauralee’s bicep with one hand, huddling close by her side, sipping her drink with the other as they ventured out into the cold. She couldn’t say if it was gratitude, or the overwhelming sweetness of the drink that kept a smile plastered across her lips the whole way there.
The grand library was a special place in the city, at least as far as Syline was concerned. Attached to the castle itself, the four-storey building sat inside the king’s personal holdings and was devoted to study and the archiving of history. The place was filled to the brim with the smell of old parchment and melted wax from an endless number of burned-out candles. The college where most court mages gained their full tutelage might be two nations away in the Magocracy of Sigillite, but Syline felt near certain that this library held more knowledge than that place ever could. She wasn’t there already because one needed a certain level of mastery and because of a number of arguments across which her mother had made very clear Syline wasn’t ready to leave home yet, and that she’d tear her poor mother apart with stress if she moved away from home, let alone the nation. Either way, Syline was happy enough to continue her tutelage in private, for now.
The first floor was a public library for those who wished to advance themselves, tended to by a number of librarians, including a lovely blind dwarf girl Syline liked to talk to. But it was the second floor that Syline headed to tonight. Divided into ten sections for each of the noble families of the city, private records, artefacts and family histories were gated behind lock, key, and the assurances they were in a place protected by the king himself.
Some families had large cabinets full of prized weapons and magical tools, others had filing cabinets full of documents. One even had dozens of spell-books from each of their past wizards in the family. The Petranski family, however, wasn’t known for being a family of readers; financial records, a few books on hunting and war dictated by Syline’s father, and a ledger on active hunters, were all that adorned their bookcase. The rest of the private area was taken up by a reading table with two chairs and a blackboard. It was here Syline’s private lessons were conducted and nowhere in the world did she feel more secure than in this little section of the library.
Syline had just bid farewell to Lauralee, promising to catch up some time to talk more, and letting the other girl have what she’d failed to finish of her drink, as thanks for her guardianship, when her tutor called out to her, having heard her enter.
‘Syline, dear, do hurry up; I’m all set up and ready,’ came his deep, but soft tones.
Her tutor, Anatoly, had once been a very prodigious court mage, but now he had retired to the role of archivist. Like most men of her land, he was naturally broad and powerfully built, but age had stooped him. His hair had receded long ago, though his long, well-trimmed beard stood strong. Still, when Syline was around, the man’s eyes shone with energy and glee.
Anatoly had retired from the role of court mage after his wife and daughter had died in childbirth. It was a few years after this that Syline had met him and begged him to take her under his wing. He’d taken her by surprise by agreeing without hesitation, and Syline certainly didn’t mind the way he doted on her and treated her like his own; it helped make up for her own often absent father. Syline was used to spending a few hours listening to his stories, learning new spells and advancing herself alongside her ageing teacher, alone. They’d never had guests in their lessons before, apart from the few times her mother or father wanted to sit in. That’s why she was taken aback – shocked even – when she turned the corner into her family’s little sanctum.
Sat beside Anatoly, giving her a faintly nervous smile, was a young man. Probably only a few years older than her, his skin was tanned, and his arms were lean but very well-muscled. Curly black hair spilled down his shoulders, framing a boyishly handsome face. Tattoos around his eyes, that gleamed like fresh oil, marked him as a sorcerer, for only they needed such things to help bind their powers. He wore sleeveless red robes, pippets and badges upon it, marking him as one of her fathers’ men. The fetishes, amulets, and tools of an accomplished battle mage hung off the robe and his wrists. A faint scar sat on the corner of his lip. Magdova would have described it as “rakish” or “dashing” and Syline had a hard time disagreeing. He gave her a rather limp salute, as if unsure that was appropriate for the situation. With a giggle, Syline curtsied back.
‘Syline, let me introduce our guest for tonight,’ began Anatoly, gesturing to the young man. ‘This is Ioann Voronyakogtya, a sorcerer in your father’s forces. His unit is on leave here and I thought it would be a great chance for you to learn about sorcerers. It’s not like we have any permanently here in the city.’
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Petranski,’ Ioann said. His speech was a little halting, like he was talking to a superior officer and reminding himself to be polite. Syline was a little put out; she didn’t often talk to men even close to her age and if he was going to treat her like that, she rather doubted she’d be making a friend.
‘And, since he’s here, I thought I’d do what your mother apparently never has, and teach you how to talk to boys,’ Anatoly said with a grin, splitting his old features.
‘What?!’ cried both Syline and Ioann, each looking at him in alarm, blushes gathering on their cheeks.
Syline’s old tutor cackled, slapping his knee as he wiped tears from the bags under his eyes.
