“No. He is from this world, as was your grandmother. Your mother was from ours, which makes you very valuable. Born of both worlds, those with enough skill can use you to open a portal between our realms without requiring multiple practitioners to perform the feat, as we have spent much time and effort erecting guards. Which is why you must learn to control your skills.
“This is the beginner’s class,” Dmitri said. “More explanations come later. The important thing is that we are here to train you.”
Martin narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Because in recognizing you, the Lady’s oracle has shown us that you are the chosen champion.”
Martin shifted his gaze from the priests and priestesses to the walls. They glowed soft blue under the lantern light. He opened his fist. A golden flame licked at his palm. “Wha… how am I doing this so easily?” Always before, he’d had to concentrate, except during a moment of desperation in an alley.
“Because, Martin, you are standing in the middle of magic. Welcome home.”
“Are you sure about this?” Commander Enys sat in his usual chair, feet on the desk as he’d never do around those he wasn’t comfortable with.
A familiar pose when Martin appeared.
“I am sure. I appreciate you finding me, giving me a home and purpose in the guards.” How could Martin explain without giving too much away?
“But you have found another path.”
“Yes, I have.”
Enys let out a long, slow breath, running the fingers of one hand through his shaggy hair. “I always knew this day would come. You never struck me as a man to settle into routine without risking his sanity. I’m sad to lose you. You’re an outstanding captain. I consider you a friend as well.”
Martin cracked a smile. “Though you’ve tried to consider me a brother-by-bonding, cousin-by-bonding four times removed…”
Enys laughed, a rich sound reverberating from his barrel chest. “You have no idea how flattered you should be that I wanted to make you a kinsman.” His smile fell. “It wasn’t to be. But know that your place with the guards is here, should you ever want to return.”
Martin studied the room, the dust eddies swirling in the sunlight from the window, the stack of parchment on Enys’s desk. An empty plate on a side table said Esmerla once more proved her devotion by sending one of their many children with midday meal.
So many things Martin would miss. He gave Enys a hug before leaving the office for the final time. No looking back. He couldn’t, or he might want to change his mind, return to a simple life.
He had a realm to save.
Chapter Thirty-three
Peter’seyesmusthavedeceived him. He’d heard of sailors going mad after too long at sea, seeing and hearing things not of this world. Had he drunk bad ale? Was the lamb he’d eaten tainted? TheSeabird’scook always said the crew should stick to seafood.
Once, they’d had to lash a pirate to the mast during a storm to keep him from jumping ship when he’d started seeing things the others couldn’t.
Or maybe Peter’s mind merely played tricks. Maybe he’d longed to see Martin so badly he’d conjured a reason and the man himself. Peter gave a shudder. Those… creatures appeared all too real, as had the man who’d rescued him. Was it really Martin? Was he well?
Peter had no way to find out without knowing where Martin lived, except that he worked as a city guard.
What could Peter say? “Excuse me, but an ugly dog chased me, and a man saved me. Do you know who he is?”
Ugly dog. Yeah. That must have been it. But no, that being had slitted centers in its eyes and scaly skin, like one of those creatures he’d seen in the southern islands, with lots of teeth and insatiable appetites.
He shuddered. Then, the man he’d met in the streets, in priest’s robes. Peter had seen him around a few times or someone like him but always headed the other way, not being one of the faithful. Some of those mystic types might take one look at Peter and see the secrets hidden in his soul. Why had he asked one for a blessing? Could he ask for information?
Not worth the risk to approach a possible threat.
Despite his best efforts, he still watched the door. No Martin. For days.
He glanced up at a vision straight from his memories. Brown hood, brown robes, brown gloves. Not a bit of skin showing. All eyes turned toward the door. The priest ignored the patrons and marched straight to the bar.
Addie hugged herself. “I’ve not been exactly the devoutest of worshippers,” she whispered, “but I never thought they’d come get me like me mum used to say.”
She’d done nothing so wrong as to earn a visit from a priest. The Father’s priests hadn’t taken up killing mages for sport, had they? For all Peter knew, priestsdidn’tvisit. At least not taverns. Peter placed a hand on Addie’s shoulder, urging her behind him. “You go to the kitchen. I’ll handle this.”
