“She’s to go to prayers,” Tarwain grumped.
Ritathan nodded gravely. “A quick lesson,” he assured Tarwain. “There’s enough time if we hurry. Come quickly, apprentice.”
Halithe rose, curtsied to her father, and went to the door, keeping her eyes down to hide her glee. But once they were in the corridor, the door closed. she looked Ritathan full in the face.
He raised one of those shaggy eyebrows. “Control yourself, apprentice.” he said mildly, his eyes twinkling. “Come. We’ve not much time.”
He swiftly led her to a bank of windows that looked out over the Palace courtyard. He carefully cracked open one of the casement windows. “Look,” he ordered, tucking his hands into his robes as the cold air flowed in.
She stepped closer to him, close enough to smell the incense that clung to his robes. The cold air snapped at her cheeks. She’d a clear view of all the bustle, normal for the afternoon. Guards, tradesmen, servants going about their chores. All seemed normal, until she spotted four figures coming through the gate.
“Is that the Guildmaster?” she asked, although it clearly was. The portly man was decked out in vibrant blue and green robes; the other three wore black robes, their bond-chains clearly visible.
“Yes,” Ritathan said. “The escort sent to the Black Hills is returning. He and the others will open the portal for their return.”
Guildmaster Forterran was shouting orders, clearing the area.
“Watch,” Ritathan said. “Remember that not everything is as it seems.”
“I don’t see—” Halithe started, but then snapped her mouth shut when Ritathan’s fingers encircled her wrist, cold under the metal of her bracelet.
“See.” At that single word, a tingle of power ran through her.
The worldshifted.
Startled, she looked at Ritathan, saw lights swirling around him and glittering among his chains. She felt, saw, sensed his Ramathan’s strength, his knowledge, his…resignation?
“Not me,” Ritathan chided and nodded to the window. “Down there.”
Halithe’s gaze went to the window and beyond, the lovely, wide sky and the world…she was lost in amazement.
“What do you see?” Ritathan whispered.
She lowered her gaze. “The gates,” she breathed.
“Wards,” Ritathan explained. “Very old spells, cast deep within the structure. They feed off the energies of those that live within, although they do have to be renewed at intervals.”
“The Guildmaster,” she frowned as the man started to chant and wave his arms. He glowed then, as did the area before him. “But the others, they aren’t really casting, are they?”
“Good,” Ritathan said. “Forterran is putting on a bit of a show. He would say he is giving them their money’s worth.”
Halithe jerked back as a wide, white, swirly circle of energy opened in the center of the courtyard, glowing intensely.
In another breath, blindfolded horses emerged, men at their heads, pulling a carriage. Another carriage followed, with an empty wagon behind, followed by men leading their mounts. The last man through, seemingly in charge, called for a head count. Once he had it, he gave the Guildmaster a nod, and the circle disappeared.
The Guildmaster staggered a bit and his apprentices ran up to offer aid.
“Trust Forterran to add a dramatic touch,” Ritathan scoffed. “You can close the window, now.”
Halithe did so with her free hand.
“This,” Ritathan squeezed her wrist, “this is what we call mage sense. When you first experience it, it is usually just your sight that seems enhanced. But it can be so much more than that.
“Think of it as more than just an extension of your physical senses, because given time and practice, it may allow you to sense strong emotions.”
The wagons and carriages were leaving through the palace gates, as was the Guildmaster. It looked like the man in charge of the expedition was being directed toward the Royal Quarters.
“I have shared my mage sense with you today,” Ritathan said, “but you must develop your own. For each of us, mage sense has inner ways, some stronger than others.” He released her wrist, and the effect was immediate—the sense dulled, slipping from her grasp to lie just out of reach.
