That night, his worries over being forced to manipulate fire once again, and the bleating of goats outside made sleep elusive. When Penelope emerged from her room as the sun was rising outside, Philip had found that he had not slept a wink.

“Tough night?” Penelope asked, stretching her arms.

“Your goats kept me up,” Philip said sourly.

“That’s because you’re sleeping in their bedroom,” Penelope smiled.

Philip raised an eyebrow.

“We might have to build a shelter for them before autumn,” Penelope continued, “they don’t do well in the cold, and we will have to worry about wolves in the winter.”

“Will we be doing that today?” Philip ventured.

“Not today,” Penelope replied, “when we have the time, worst case is the lot of you just all sleep together in here.”

Philip grunted and got to his feet. They made bannocks for breakfast, and soon, Penelope was leading the way out of the cabin and across the glade.

“Are we going to the stream today?” Philip ventured.

“A little further than that,” Penelope replied, “if we’re lucky, we’ll have fish for lunch.”

They made their way through the woods and to the stream Philip had drawn water from. From there, they followed the stream until they came across a larger river which they followed upstream until they came across a series of waterfalls of heights varying from three to five feet that were laid out like a series of stone steps. The ground here was rocky, and the trees grew right up to the river’s edge.

“This will be our training grounds,” Penelope declared. She had to shout to be heard over the sounds of the waterfall.

“Follow me,” she called over her shoulder as she walked out into the ankle deep water and came to a halt in the middle of the river.

Philip hesitated before following after her. The rocks were slippery, and Philip had to take care not to lose his footing. Fish darted playfully around their feet as they stood in the cool slow flowing water.

“First, we need to get you over your fear of fire,” Penelope said.

Philip nodded hesitantly. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Penelope, but these were words he had heard too many times at the Academy and his instructor’s patience inevitably always turned into frustration.

“I’ll assume that you know the theory of what you’re supposed to do,” Penelope continued, “we don’t have an aeromancer with us, so we’ll focus on the basics.”

Philip nodded. A Pyromancer could only conjure fire from anything their skin was in direct contact with. They had to rely on aeromancers to increase their range and accuracy. What worried Philip was that what happened at Gelt’s Pass was unheard of, and he could tell that Penelope was worried about it as well.

Penelope opened the palm of her hand and held it up. Philip felt his knees go weak as he saw the red flame appear in her hand. It vanished a second after it appeared, and Penelope looked at Philip.

“Let’s try short bursts for now,” she suggested, “go on.”

Philip swallowed and tapped the orb in his chest. He let the power flow to his hand in a single burst and felt the glow of heat in his hand.

“Go on, look at it,” Penelope said encouragingly.

Hesitantly, Philip glanced down and tasted bile. He held it for half a second, before extinguishing the flame. He fell to his knees, gasping.

“That went better than anticipated,” Penelope beamed.

Philip’s heart was pounding in his chest. “That’s a first for me in years,” he panted, on his hands and knees in the middle of the river, “the last time was probably my first day at the Academy.”

“It was a flame a stiff breeze could extinguish, but it’s better than nothing,” Penelope remarked, and Philip couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or trying to encourage him.

Philip’s legs still lacked the strength to stand. He looked up at Penelope and managed a weak smile. “I don’t suppose we could call it a day?”

Penelope shook her head. “When you’re able, why don’t you try holding the flame for a little longer?”

When Philip was able to stand, he attempted to conjure the flame again. As the heat built up, he felt his panic rise. His legs went weak, and he collapsed in a heap with a splash.

“It looks like we were a little optimistic,” Penelope observed, “it’s been so long since the last time you’ve summoned flames that your body forgot the sensation which led to your initial success.”

Philip tried to conjure fire again for another hour without success when Penelope called a break. They made their way to the riverbank where Philip flopped onto the ground, feeling completely exhausted.

Penelope baited a few hooks and cast them into the river before sitting next to Philip. They watched the river in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

“I suppose I’ll have to rethink our strategy,” Penelope sighed at length.

“You know the Dean called in all sorts of doctors from all corners of the world to try and get over my fear of fire,” Philip pointed out, sure that Penelope was disappointed with him, “what will you do if I can’t get over this fear of mine?”

“I’ll kill you,” Penelope replied matter-of-factly.

Philip looked up at Penelope who was still looking at the river. At length, she looked back at him. “If you can only summon your power when your back is to the wall, you will be a danger to yourself and everyone around you. As your master, I cannot in good conscience let you out into the world in that state.”

Philip’s mouth worked but he could not find a rebuttal.

“If I let you live without mastering the flames,” Penelope said, looking back out at the river, “it would only be a matter of time until another tragedy like the one that claimed the lives of your parents or the one at Gelt’s Pass happens again.”

Penelope paused to let the words sink in before continuing, “could you live with yourself then?”

Philip thought it over. If he started over in a new town, made new friends and started a life, a family only to wake up one night with everything in flames. “I don’t think so, no,” Philip murmured at length.

“Then as my final act as your master, I’ll spare you that agony,” Penelope said quietly.

They both sat in silence for an uncomfortably long time before Penelope stood up abruptly. “That’s enough defeatist talk for today,” she said brightly.

“Shall we continue?” Philip ventured. In truth, he didn’t feel up to it, but he did think he owed Penelope, himself, and all the people he had killed a try.

Penelope shook her head. “I need some time to think things over,” she said, “for now, let’s get started on building a room for my animals.”

“Do we have time for that?” Philip blurted.

Penelope looked at him and smiled. “Relax, I’ve not set a deadline for you to master the flame and there’s no point bashing our heads on this door when we know it won’t open.”

Philip tried to find the flaw in Penelope’s argument but could not.

“I know this is disappointing,” Penelope said, seeing the look on Philip’s face, “all I can say is that I will try my best to get you to overcome your fears.”

“I’ve heard that promise many times,” Philip said softly.

“Hey,” Penelope said, grabbing Philip by the arm.

“It’s true,” Philip said, looking back at her.

Penelope broke into a grin and winked, “none of them was Penelope the Red, were they?”

Philip smiled despite himself and looked away, but Penelope held firm. “Were they?” she repeated.

“No,” he admitted, “they weren’t.”

“Good,” she beamed, “now, let’s get to work. Unless you fancy living with livestock.”

It was late morning the next day, and Philip found himself squaring off against his new master in hand to hand combat. The goats watched curiously nearby as they grazed.

“Come on,” Penelope laughed, raising her fists as she bounced on the balls of her feet. Her hands were dangling carelessly by her sides, “I just taught you the moves this morning and you’re already getting them wrong.”

“I still don’t see what this has to do with getting over my fear of fire,” Philip protested, as he rubbed his arm. It was sore and sure to bruise later.

“It’s good exercise, and an excellent way to clear your mind for the lessons to come,” Penelope said, “come on, you’re your arse handed to you by an old lady.”

“Sure, you’ll admit to being an old lady now,” Philip muttered.

His pride was wounded by the thrashing he’d been getting all morning, but that said, he’d never been in a proper fistfight before. He’d been on the receiving end of a few drunken punches at the odd tavern brawl, but that was about it. The Academy certainly never trained them in such a fashion. Gifted on the battlefield would have bodyguards close at hand at all times.

He took a deep breath and mentally ran through the basic steps he’d been taught that morning while trying to ignore the goading look on Penelope’s face. First was the spear hand strike, which for some reason was performed with an open hand, using his hand like a spear. Next, the chop, using the side of the hand, and finally, a strike with the palm, which was to be used to parry or counter an opponent’s blows. The rules were simple, a bout ended when someone landed a clean blow. Something Philip had yet to achieve.

As Philip approached cautiously, Penelope’s grin broadened, “you need to be on the balls of your feet, like I am, or you’ll be too slow to react to your opponent’s moves.”

Philip ignored her and stepped in with a spear handed strike. Penelope sidestepped it easily and delivered a palm strike to his arm, sending his blow astray. Philip grunted. She had been striking the same spot every time and it was already beginning to bruise. Penelope followed up with a sweeping kick to his calf which caught him off balance. A spear handed strike to his midsection knocked the wind out of him and sent him stumbling backwards and onto his arse.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Penelope said, grinning down at Philip.

“Who taught you this anyway?” Philip asked as Penelope helped him onto his feet.

“My master,” Penelope replied, “he told me Latis was created by a sect of pyromancer assassins who used these techniques centuries ago. They’d imbue their hands with as much heat as they could before delivering strikes that could cut right through an armoured man.”

“It seems a dagger or a sword would be more effective in most cases,” Philip remarked.

“I said the same thing,” Penelope said, “my master told me the history is probably embellished, but it does help keep the body healthy, and besides, it’s saved me on a few occasions.”

“Who was your master, anyway?” Philip ventured.

Penelope looked up at the sky and smiled, as though recalling a fond memory. “His name was Gordon Dorist. He studied under a survivor of the Elemental Order.”

She saw the look on Philip’s face and crinkled her nose, “have you not heard of it?”

Philip shook his head.

“The Academy’s lessons are lacking these days,” Penelope sniffed as they made their way to the wheat field, “the Elemental Order was an ancient organisation based out of a distant kingdom who dedicated themselves to the study of the elements and methods to refine their Gifts.”

“How come I’ve never heard of them then?” Philip asked.

“They were stamped out almost a hundred years ago when they refused their king’s call to arms to use their learnings for war,” Penelope said, “the Academy probably omits them from their teachings because they set a bad example.”

“What happened to your master?” Philip asked, “I can’t say I’ve ever heard of him either.”

“He was a Morovian man and a member of their Geomancer’s Guild,” Penelope replied, “we weren’t at war back then. He was finally recalled when war looked inevitable four years into my training.”

“Did you encounter him in the war?” Philip asked.

Penelope shook her head. “He was always of the opinion that the Gifted should not use their powers for battle. I suppose he learned that from his master.”

“But you did not,” Philip observed.

Penelope sighed. “I didn’t, no. I was young at the time and whipped into a frenzy by the king’s talk of a righteous war. In the last conversation I had with my master I called him a coward.”

“You’ve not seen him since?” Philip ventured.

Penelope shook her head. “I don’t even know if he’s still alive, the last time I saw him was thirty years ago, before the war.”

“We were taught that tensions were high for decades,” Philip remarked, as they entered the wheat field. The goats were permitted to follow them in, and they happily grazed on the leftovers from the harvest.

“They were, but my master said that he saw a potential for greatness in me and that it would be a waste for me to go untrained,” Penelope said sadly, “I’ve always wondered if he regretted his decision.”

She looked at Philip and ruffled his hair. “He’d know how to sort you out,” she sighed, “he was the smartest person I’ve ever known.”

They continued expanding the field as the goats watched while they ate. Philip got to work ploughing a new row for planting wheat with a hoe. He had been working for an hour when he felt the blade break and muttered a curse.

“Is it broken?” Penelope asked.

Philip held the tool up and nodded.

“We’ll have to get a new one from town,” Penelope said, stretching as she stood. She had been working on extending the fence around the small field so that it encompassed their extension, “there are a few things we need to get there anyway.”

“How long do you expect to be away?” Philip ventured, expecting to be left at the cabin.

“We will be gone around four or five days,” Penelope said, “we’ve got a lot to buy and I’m not going alone.”

“I’m a wanted man,” Philip protested.

“They don’t know if you are alive,” Penelope pointed out, “for all they know, you’ve died of exposure in those woods.”

Philip looked back at her, unconvinced.

“Besides,” Penelope continued, “Wood Edge is pretty remote, no one is going to be looking for outlaws there.”

“If you say so,” Philip said dubiously.

Penelope had them take a break from their chores early that day, and they spent the rest of the day taking stock of things they’d need to buy and gathering things that they could trade. That evening, she taught him how to conceal his aura. It took a great deal of concentration, and he would be unable to sense the aura of any other Gifted when he did so, but Philip managed to keep it more or less suppressed for half an hour before he could no longer keep his concentration up and at Penelope’s suggestion, he turned in for the night.

He slept poorly that night, his head filled with concern that soldiers of the crown were waiting at the town to capture him but when the knives were out and his back was against a wall, his power was unleashed, reducing the town to cinders… including Penelope…

Philip awoke and sat upright, drenched in sweat. It was still dark outside just as Penelope appeared from her room fully dressed which he took to mean it was almost dawn.

“Are you still having nightmares?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“I have a bad feeling about heading to town,” Philip replied, rubbing his eyes, “perhaps I should stay here after all.”

“Nonsense,” Penelope declared, “you’re going and that’s final.”

They each drank a cup of fresh goat’s milk before departing from the cabin. Penelope led the way unerringly through the forest in the predawn twilight. Philip had familiarized himself with the forests immediately around the glade in the preceding days, but with their quick pace, he soon found himself in unfamiliar territory. The path they walked on grew fainter before eventually disappearing altogether in the dense undergrowth.

“I have a really bad feeling about going to town,” Philip said, making one last attempt to stay behind while he was still confident he could make it back to the glade on his own, “Gelt’s Pass was too recent, they’ll be looking for me for sure.”

“It’ll be fine,” Penelope assured him, “after all, no one recognized the famous Penelope the Red walking their streets for the last twenty years.”

“But surely after what I did, my picture will be on every crossroads in the land,” Philip protested.

“I very much doubt that,” Penelope replied, “after all, what would you do if you were the king; let everyone know that you’ve lost control of a powerful pyromancer who’s free to be recruited by every kingdom in the land, or pretend that same pyromancer is currently in your employ and itching to be released on anyone who crosses you?”

Philip grunted. She had a point there.

“That’s not to say we’ll let our guard down,” Penelope continued, “agents of the kingdom will be on the lookout for you, but chances are slim that they’ll be in a backwater like Wood Edge.”

“But there’s still a risk,” Philip pointed out, “why take the chance?”

“We can carry twice the amount with two,” Penelope replied, “we need a lot of things from town to get ready for winter thanks to the extra mouth to feed and we still have a lot of work to do around the glade, so the fewer trips I have to make, the better.”

“That makes sense,” Philip conceded, “how long will we be there?”

“We’ll spend a night there,” she replied, “and depart first thing the next day.”

Philip hefted his small sack of broken farm implements. “How are we going to pay for everything?”

Penelope produced a small pouch that was tied around her belt and inspected its contents before showing it to Philip. He looked into the pouch and his eyes went wide. It was filled with silver shillings, and a gold sovereign peaked out from the bottom.

“Where did you get all this?” he gasped. The sovereign alone was what his father made in a year. A small army could be raised with the contents of the pouch.

“Pyromancers are paid well,” Penelope grinned, “all this time, I’ve been living off what I earned in just five years.”

Philip’s eyebrows soared.

“Of course, I’ve been frugal,” Penelope added, “your living with me will eat into my savings considerably, however.”

“Sorry to be such a burden,” Philip said dryly, “I’ll endeavour to be out of your hair as quickly as I can.”

“Good,” Penelope continued smoothly, “and believe you me, I’m doing my best to get you sorted out and, on your way as quickly as I can on my end. My comfortable retirement depends on it.”

“Retirement,” Philip sniffed, “what happens when one day you can’t get out of bed? Will your goats save you?”

“I honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Penelope remarked, “that day is still another fifty years away at least”

Philip rolled his eyes.

“I don’t see how you navigate these forests,” Philip remarked as they pushed their way through the seemingly featureless woods.

Penelope turned and grinned. “I suppose it’s time I taught you the basics of finding your way around here.”

They continued on until they came to a small clearing where the Humi Mountains were visible behind them.

“See those mountains with two peaks close to each other?” she asked, pointing to the south.

Philip followed where she was pointing and nodded.

She then pointed behind them to the southwest. “And that tall, solitary peak over there?”

Philip nodded again.

“Keep them at your back and roughly the same distance from each other as you head northeast and you’ll run into the paths leading into Wood Edge within two days,” she said.

Philip looked at her quizzically. The directions seemed rough to him at best.

“I’ll point out a few other landmarks that’ll tell you you’re on the right track over the rest of our trip,” she laughed.

The rest of the day’s journey was uneventful. Penelope pointed out several landmarks; a stream, a particularly tall tree, a clearing in the forest, as they passed them and taught Philip to align them with the two mountains that she had pointed out earlier to keep them on the right course.

That evening, she had him practice suppressing his aura again. He managed to keep it hidden for an hour this time and Penelope said he would soon be able to do it for as long as three with a little more practice. They emerged from the forest just before noon on the third day after leaving the glade.

“Now, stay close,” Penelope said, “the town is fairly large I don’t want you getting lost.”

Philip nodded and swallowed as they walked down one of the woodcutter’s paths that led out of the forest and straight into town.

“Remember,” Penelope said, “your name is Chris and you’re just a relative of mine visiting from Stelon.”

“I will,” Philip said, looking around nervously for signs of trouble.

“And calm down,” Penelope sighed, “or people will find you suspicious from a mile away.”

“Easy for you to say,” Philip muttered, as he forced himself to keep his eyes firmly on the dirt path they were walking down.

“Yes, because if they catch me with a wanted felon, they’ll just let me go, no questions asked,” Penelope pointed out dryly.

A few tired, weather beaten houses marked their entrance into the town. Up ahead, wagons piled high with freshly harvested wheat, oats, barley, vegetables, and all other manner of bounty from the farms plied the dirt roads. Their drivers waited patiently as they were held up by a dozen heads of cattle being herded down one of the roads. Pedestrians squeezed their way past the backed up wagons as they went about their business.

“You said this was a backwater,” Philip breathed. looking around, wide-eyed. “The only place I’ve seen busier than this is Antere.”

It felt like months since he’d set foot in a proper town, and despite his misgivings, he suddenly felt at home. This confirmed in his heart that he was a city boy after all and could never spend his life in the wilderness like Penelope.

“This is a market town,” Penelope announced, “it started as a logging camp, and grew into the heart of this region. Most of the region’s produce is sent by river to the nearest city.”

As they walked through busy streets, the town hall and church loomed up ahead, marking the centre of town.

“How about a drink?” Penelope suggested as they walked past an inn called the Trader’s Rest.

“I thought we had a lot to do,” Philip protested, “can we afford the time?”

“We might as well secure lodgings for the night while we’re at it,” Penelope said, her eyes twinkling, “kill two birds with one stone. That’d be an efficient use of our time.”

Before Philip could protest further Penelope walked through the inn’s doors leaving him standing alone on the street. Philip shook his head and found her already at the bar talking to the bartender by the time he went in. The common room of the inn was large and half full. A large fireplace was unlit against one of the walls, which Philip took care not to look directly, and a pair of large windows offered a view of the street. Penelope paid for their drinks and carried them to a quiet booth towards the back of the room.

“Ahhh,” she sighed after taking a long swig of ale, “this is something I’ve missed out in the glade.”

Philip looked at his drink and took a sip. The taste brought back memories of the drinks he’d shared with his friends and a melancholy descended over him.

“Not a drinker?” Penelope asked as she drained her cup, “one more, then we can be on our way.”

Philip continued staring at his drink, eager to be gone quickly, as Penelope walked over to the bar to order another drink and to secure rooms for the night. She chatted with the bartender for a while before returning to her seat. She had just settled down when they both felt a familiar presence.

“We’d better go,” Philip said, turning pale.

“Sit down,” Penelope said and looked towards the bar, “let’s see what he wants.”

“One more please,” she called out to the bartender, “the gentleman who is about to walk in will pay.”

“Are you sure he’s here as a friend?” Philip asked, wide-eyed.

“We’ll soon find out,” Penelope shrugged, “though if he were an enemy, I don’t think he would reveal himself this soon.”

Philip’s heart thumped as a hooded figure walked past the window before entering the common room. He walked to the bar and took the drink the bartender had pulled for him. He walked towards them, but the bartender called him back to pay for the drink. Soon, a red faced Frederick stood at their booth.

“It’s been a while, ma’am,” Frederick said to Penelope, looking solemn under the hood of his cloak. He then turned to Philip and nodded, “hello, Philip.”

“Hello,” Philip squeaked.

“Sit,” Penelope commanded.

Frederick took a seat next to Philip and they sat in awkward silence for a moment as the two men nursed their drinks. Penelope took a long swig of hers and they watched her, waiting for her to make the first move.

“You knew I was here.” Her words were an accusation, and her mouth was set in a thin, hard line.

“That I did,” Frederick replied, not meeting his former teacher’s gaze, “I happen to know the lord of this fief quite well, I had to call in a huge favour to have him keep your presence here quiet.”

Penelope closed her eyes and sighed as the realization dawned on her. “Of course, your family’s lands border these.”

“Why?” Penelope demanded as Frederick wiped his mouth.

“Why didn’t I rat out my old teacher?” Frederick asked rhetorically. He tapped his cheek while looking at the ceiling as though searching for the answer to a difficult question, “maybe it’s because I know what you went through and thought you deserved to leave it all behind.”

“So you’ve known and didn’t once come to visit?” Penelope asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I know how prideful you are, so I let you believe you’d pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes,” Frederick replied with a wry smile, “besides, questions would be asked if the famous Frederick of the Flame came all the way here.”

“And yet here you are,” Penelope stated flatly, her green eyes were steely as they bored holes into her former student.

Frederick’s eyes went to Philip who shrank in his seat. “I take it you were responsible for what happened at Gelt’s Pass?”

Philip nodded and opened his mouth while he searched for the words to explain.

“What happened there was partly your failing,” Penelope interrupted sharply, “yours and Stevan’s.”

“I suppose I bear some responsibility,” Frederick conceded, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard, “but the boy is not without blame.”

“How did you know he would be with me?” Penelope demanded before Frederick could say anything else.

A faint smile crossed Frederick’s face. “I might not have been the best student at the Academy, but I know people. And I know you.”

Penelope’s set her jaw and her expression told him that she demanded further explanation.

“I reckoned you’d be at Gelt’s Pass to see how the Baron would cock up your legacy,” Frederick continued, before shooting Philip a sly look, “she’s vain like that you know.”

Penelope slammed the mug down on the table, causing Philip and Frederick to jump, and all conversation in the room to cease. Philip could have heard a pin drop when Penelope spoke. “Stay on point, please.”

Frederick winked at Philip and gave the patrons nearby an apologetic smile. Once the conversations in the bar picked again, Frederick answered, “I decided to come here and see if you knew anything. It was as good an excuse as any to catch up with an old teacher and an old friend, so I came here as quietly as I could and had your favourite inn in town staked out.”

“At any rate,” Frederick continued, as Penelope’s face reddened, “I didn’t expect you to stroll into town with him at your side.”

“What do you intend to do?” Penelope asked, “clap him in irons and haul him back to Antere?”

Frederick took another sip of ale as he considered the question. Someone laughed boisterously nearby, setting Philip’s nerves on edge.

“I don’t know,” he admitted at length, “perhaps you could offer some words of guidance for your former student?”

“I don’t suppose you could look the other way?” Penelope ventured, “I can take responsibility for him… teach him.”

Frederick frowned. “You know the king’s furious about what happened at Gelt’s Pass. Stevan might lose his position as dean... oh that’s right, Stevan’s dean of the Academy now.”

He looked up and sighed. “As for me, well, though I did vouch for him when they released him, but they can’t punish me publicly so that’s up in the air.”

“I’m sorry,” Philip said softly.

“The official story is there is a powerful pyromancer in the Celethir ranks and that Gelt’s Pass was their doing,” Frederick continued, looking over at Philip, “the secret story is that you were sent there but died in an accident.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Philip asked, raising his head hopefully.

Penelope shook her head and smiled sadly as Frederick continued, “but I’ve heard that assassins are being sent after you… my sources have whispered that the Borundian Shadows have been contracted.”

Penelope turned white. “The king’s gone mad.”

“It is an overreaction, I have to say,” Frederick shook his head and sighed, “truth be told, the boy did the kingdom a favour.”

“I did?” Philip asked incredulously.

“Count Edmond Dompere was the most talented officer in the Morovian army, one who caused us no end of trouble,” Frederick said, “he and the core of the Morovian army was wiped out at Gelt’s Pass. Our forces managed to retake the lands up to Lexi with little difficulty, and even the Galateans have toned down their sabre rattling for fear of the pyromancer at Gelt’s Pass being unleashed unto their lands.”

“Then why the Borundian Shadows?” Penelope demanded.

“The king is furious, remember?” Frederick said with a wry smile, “besides, the boy is an unknown quantity. Surely you can see that?”

Penelope nodded, and Philip felt sweat stream down his face.

“The king has given up on trying to control him,” Frederick continued, “but he can’t risk him falling into the hands of another kingdom.”

“What’s a Borundian Shadow?” Philip asked.

“Assassins,” Penelope said, “skilled ones at that. Why resort to them?”

“Because they’re discrete,” Frederick replied, “the king wants this settled quietly.”

“Our king, Folen’s oldest son, isn’t he?” Penelope asked.

Frederick nodded.

“He’s a greedy sod who hates waste,” Penelope continued, “why contract them? They’d cost a fortune. Why not just lock Philip in a tower and claim he can unleash him at will?”

“He’s had one of his tantrums, hasn’t he?” Frederick replied, “he thinks that after wasting all that effort on training Philip and being told that he can’t perform on account of being afraid of fire, then goes and does that… our king feels it was a personal affront.”

“He always was a spoiled one, that Storin,” Penelope spat, “I warned Folen.”

“No use in cursing him now,” Frederick sighed, “it’s what has been decreed.”

They nursed their drinks in silence, each lost in their own thoughts as the inn filled up for lunch. Philip felt trapped, which was not helped by the fact that Frederick was now barring his route of escape, effectively blocking him into the booth.

“Well then,” Frederick said at length as he looked at Philip, “let’s hear it then.”

Philip blinked as Frederick looked at him expectantly.

“Your side of the story.”

Philip looked from Frederick to Penelope, who shrugged and gestured for him to speak. He took a deep breath and recounted his experiences at Gelt’s Pass, about what he felt when he was cornered, and about his guilt after seeing what he had done. He wiped away a tear as he finished recounting his tale and slumped his chair, feeling spent.

“So, what will you do?” Penelope asked Frederick.

Frederick drained his cup and let off a satisfied belch before looking at her. “I’m going back to the Eastern Marches,” he smiled, “I’ve been camped here for a week and they’re going to start asking questions soon.”

Philip’s eyebrows soared. “You’re not going to turn me in?”

Frederick smiled as he ruffled Philip’s hair. “I can’t claim to be impartial, but I don’t hold you completely responsible for what happened at Gelt’s Pass.”

Philip looked at his former master in disbelief.

“That is not to say you are blameless for what happened,” Frederick continued, “but what I do know is that turning you over to the crown will benefit no one.”

Philip was about to speak when Frederick continued, “and as the student of Penelope the Red, I suspect you will find a way to atone for what you did in your own way.”

“That’s very grown up for you to say,” Penelope remarked, “against all expectation, you’ve grown up to be a fine man.”

Frederick broke into a broad grin. “Now, I must go. When the fuss has died down, the two of you should seek me out in the Eastern Marches. We have a lot to catch up on and their summer berry wine is to die for.”

Penelope smiled back at her former student. “You know, I just might do that one day.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Frederick said.

With that, he got to his feet and excused himself. Penelope and Philip watched as he nodded to the bartender before leaving the inn.

“Is it really alright to leave things like that?” Philip asked once Frederick had left, “what if he gets accused of helping me?”

“He’ll find a way to deal with it,” Penelope smiled, “besides, what are you going to do, chase after him and beg that he turn you in?”

Philip shook his head.

“Then just appreciate what he’s done for you,” Penelope said, “he’s always been a kind boy.”

“I suppose that’s three lives I owe him now,” Philip said softly.

They decided to have lunch in the inn before stepping out onto the busy streets once again. They navigated cowpat strewn dirt roads and emerged onto a wide road that ran alongside a wide river. Barges piled high with all manner of things from barrels of ale, logs, sacks of grain and livestock plied the waterways. Some were tied up at the stone quay, where armies of men worked tirelessly to load them, others were waiting for their turn, and others still making their way down the river, fully laden and wallowing low in the water.

“Do they move everything by river?” Philip said, staring at the boats. He had never seen anything quite like it, even in Antere.

“This is a very remote part of the kingdom,” Penelope said, “the Ernos River connects this province to the rest of the kingdom, really.”

Philip froze as a thought occurred to him. “There aren’t any hydromancers here, are there?’

Penelope laughed and shook her head. “How big an idiot do you take me for?” she asked.

Philip shrugged. “I just thought it was prudent to ask is all,” he replied, “where are we going, anyway?”

“To spend some gold.”

She muttered some things under her breath that Philip didn’t quite catch before continuing, “I don’t like dealing with Tom, he’s a borderline swindler.”

“I don’t understand,” Philip replied, confused, “then why deal with him?”

“Because while some people are willing to look the other way when vagrants like us pay in silver, and can’t account for where it came from,” Penelope said, “but typically only nobility and the highest ranks of merchants can deal in gold so that requires a more specialised sort of person, one who is not concerned with being caught with gold that cannot be accounted for.”

She led them to a warehouse that was built right on the quay. The sign outside said Thomas and Sons, Traders and by Philip’s estimation, the warehouse was larger than the Melinfield church, town hall and square put together. The road ran right through the warehouse and some of the wagons were being unloaded inside, while others were being unloaded on the docks, having their cargo placed straight onto the barges.

The inside of the warehouse was like an oven and was crowded with men and all manner of wares. They picked their way in between the wagons that were queuing to be unloaded, as Penelope looked around for someone she recognized.

“Can I help you, madam?” a burly man asked. He was stripped to the waist like most of the labourers in the warehouse and his skin glistened with sweat.

“I’m looking for Tom,” Penelope said.

The man raised an eyebrow. “A lot of people are looking for the boss, is he expecting you?”

“Just tell him Doris is here to see him,” Penelope said, using the name she went by in town.

The man looked at her dubiously, and Penelope looked back imperiously. At length, the man shrugged and turned to the side.

“Oi Rob, tell the boss some lady named Doris is here to see him,” he called out.

Philip watched as a scrawny half naked man ran up a flight of stairs built against the far wall of the warehouse. He disappeared into a room at the top that overlooked the entire warehouse and re-emerged soon after.

“The boss says to send her in,” the man called from the top of the stairs.

The burly man turned back to Penelope and gave her a curious look before jerking his thumb at the stairs. “You heard him.”

Philip avoided the man’s gaze as he followed Penelope across the busy warehouse and up the stairs. A pair of large men armed with cudgels opened the door at the top of the stairs that led into a room. The room was large, furnished with several cabinets and a large mahogany table. A plush rug was laid out on the floor, and there were large windows on either side of the room. On one side, was a sweeping view of the river. The windows on this side were open for ventilation. Through the windows on the other side, one could see most of the warehouse.

Seated at the desk was a thin bespectacled man with thinning hair. He looked up from the parchments he had been pouring over as they walked in.

“Ah, Doris,” his face brightened as he saw Penelope, “it’s been a while.”

His eyes went to Philip, and he felt himself being appraised by the man and assigned a monetary value.

“This is Chris, he’s my sister’s son from Stelon,” Penelope said, “Chris, this is Tom, the biggest trader in Wood Edge.”

“Your aunt is too kind,” Tom said. He shook Philip’s hand and turned his attention back to Penelope, “how can I be of service today?”

Penelope produced a list of provisions she needed and handed it to Tom. He scanned the list and nodded thoughtfully. Philip felt that what was on the list was utterly beneath a trader of Tom’s means.

“I can get these for you,” Tom said at length, “you’ll be staying at the Trader’s Rest, I assume?”

“That’s right,” Penelope nodded.

“Good, your things will be there within two hours,” Tom said, clapping his hands, “now, as for payment…”

Penelope took her pouch out and produced the gold sovereign. Tom could not hide the avarice in his eyes as he took it from her. He walked over to the windows facing the river and inspected it under the afternoon sun.

“Oh my, a Folen sovereign,” he said, examining the former monarch’s face that had been stamped on one side of the coin. He turned the coin over and his eyebrows soared, “a victory sovereign to boot.”

He looked at Penelope. “This is a rare thing indeed. I shall add it straight to my collection. It is far too valuable to spend.”

“I hope something so rare would afford me a sizable discount,” Penelope said.

“Well,” Tom replied, “you know that I don’t really deal in the numbers you asked for, and I will be sending a man to your door after all.”

Penelope sighed and said, “two silver shillings.”

“Five,” Tom countered.

“That sovereign is worth double face value to the right person,” Penelope pointed out.

“Or the gallows if found on the wrong person,” Tom countered.

“Then give it back,” Penelope said, holding out a hand, “I’ll take my business to Paul.”

Tom held the sovereign away and took a step back before smiling sweetly. “Now now,” he said, “let’s not be rash.”

He paused and fondled the gold coin in his hand before sighing. “Four silver shillings.”

“Three,” Penelope said, “and not a copper penny less.”

“Done,” Tom said.

Both he and Penelope relaxed visibly, and Tom held the sovereign up in the sunlight with a broad smile on his face.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said, not taking his eyes of the coin.

Philip and Penelope exchanged looks as Tom remained entranced by the coin, seemingly forgetting that they were there.

“My change, please,” Penelope said after an uncomfortably long silence.

Tom blinked and took a moment to collect himself. “Ah yes, of course,” he said.

He walked over to his table and pulled open a drawer from which he took a small wooden box. He placed the box on top of his desk with a thump and placed the gold sovereign delicately inside. Then, he withdrew seventeen silver shillings and counted them out twice before placing them in three neat stacks on his desk. He took one last loving look at the gold coin before closing the box and returning it to his drawer.

“Your change,” he said to Penelope, indicating the stacks of coins.

Penelope walked over and scooped the coins into her pouch. Tom scribbled on a piece of paper and held it up in the air.

“Your receipt,” he said.

Penelope snatched the receipt out of his hand and began walking towards the door. “Come now Chris,” she said, “our business here is done.”

“Won’t you stay for a drink?” Tom offered, “we could open a bottle of Merrion wine, and discuss your collection of gold coins.”

“We haven’t the time, I’m afraid,” she called over her shoulder, already heading towards the door with Philip in tow, “lots to do. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

Philip nodded at Tom awkwardly before following Penelope out the door. Penelope led the way down the stairs and once they were out of the warehouse, Philip found himself breathing easier once more.

“That man puts me on the edge,” Philip said, looking over his shoulder at the warehouse.

“He has a manner about him,” Penelope agreed, “it feels like he’s weighing what you’re worth and how much he can squeeze out of you.”

“I’m surprised such an important man was willing to meet with you like that,” Philip remarked as Penelope led them down another road.

“He knows there’s more to me than what I present,” Penelope said, “but he hasn’t put his finger on quite what. Not knowing precisely what I’m worth eats at him. He takes every opportunity to meet with me in the hopes of uncovering my true nature.”

“Troublesome sounding fellow,” Philip observed, “dealing with him seems dangerous.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Penelope breathed, “that’s why I only deal with him when it’s absolutely necessary.”

As they followed the river downstream until Philip came upon the familiar sight of waterwheels turning in the river. He couldn’t resist the urge to peep inside the mill as they walked past to catch a glimpse of the machinery within. Further downstream was a stone building. Smoke poured out of the single chimney, telling Philip that it was a blacksmith and that the forge was going at full steam, the water wheel would be powering the bellows that kept the forge fed with air. Two young boys sat on the ground outside, sharpening knives with whetstones.

“Is the master in?” Penelope asked.

One of them nodded and looked towards the door that was propped open by a broken spade. Penelope ruffled their hair and tossed each of them a copper penny before walking in. Philip hesitated at the doorway as a steady stream of hot air hit him in the face before following after her. It was warm inside, even for Philip, and the noise of metal striking metal filled his ears. A muscular man was stoking coals under the forge with a long wooden pole while a teenaged boy struck a glowing red hot piece of steel with a hammer over an anvil.

“Good afternoon Nick,” Penelope said, shouting to be heard over the hammer blows.

Nicholas looked at her for a moment before gesturing for her to join him outside.

“I figured I’d be seeing you around this time,” Nicholas said, “what do you have for me?”

Penelope nodded at Philip who held open the sack of broken tools. Nicholas took the sack and sat down before dumping its contents out into the grass. He grunted as he examined them.

“Repairing them will take a week,” he said at length.

“That long?” Penelope asked, sitting across from him.

“I am busy this time of year, you know that,” Nicholas said, “I’ve told you I can be more accommodating if you come during autumn or winter.”

“I need these tools now,” Penelope sighed.

“You and every other farmer for twenty miles,” Nicholas pointed out.

“Could you do a trade in?” Penelope ventured.

Nicholas shook his head. “I’m afraid not, as I said, every farmer for twenty miles is desperate to have tools mended and I have nothing new to sell.”

“Could you do something to bump me up the list?” Penelope asked, “you know I live far away, and I need to be getting back in the morning.”

Nicholas hesitated and seemed to be thrown off by something.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Penelope said, pressing a silver shilling into Nicholas’ hand.

Nicholas looked at the shilling and shook his head before noticing Philip for the first time. “Who’s the boy?” he asked.

“My sister’s son from Stelon,” Penelope said and turned to Philip. “Chris, say hello to Nicholas, he’s kind enough to make mending our tools a priority.”

“Hello,” Philip said awkwardly.

“Now, I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” Nicholas protested.

Penelope looked at him and gave her best smile. “Ah, but you’ve already accepted payment.”

Nicholas gave Penelope a curious look. “Something has come over you.” He then looked at Philip. “And I suspect he has something to do with it.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Philip asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Normally she’d be lifeless, dead in the eyes, and making tired pleas,” Nicholas said, “today she’s like a proper beam of sunshine.”

“Yes, she looks like an actual person,” one of the boys piped up.

“She gave us a penny each,” the other one chirped.

Nicholas’ smile widened. “This is an encouraging change and I never thought I’d see the day. My old man won’t believe it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Penelope said, “I’ve always been delightful to be around.”

“Well you’ve been coming here since my old man was in charge so I suppose I could do you this favour,” Nicholas conceded, “your work will be done by noon tomorrow.”

“Much obliged,” Penelope said.

“How long will you be staying with your aunt?” Nicholas asked Philip.

“Until next harvest at least,” Philip said before Penelope could speak for him, “my mother worries that aunty is getting on a bit and that she might break a hip or something.”

Nicholas laughed. “I don’t know about that. She’s been coming here since I was his age,” he said, pointing at the older boy, “and she seems as fit as ever.”

“You better believe it,” Penelope said as she pinched Philip on the cheek.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Nicholas said as he gathered up Penelope’s broken tools, “an unreasonable customer has just dropped a fairly large rush job on me with an outrageous deadline.”

“I’m sure this customer is compensating you well for the inconvenience,” Penelope said.

“She always does,” Nicholas grinned, “my old man always said to stay in your good graces. A customer who pays promptly is hard to find round these parts.”

“It’s always nice to be appreciated,” Penelope said as Nicholas gathered up her tools.

She then looked at Philip and sighed. “That’s our business done I suppose.”

“That’s it?” Philip asked.

Penelope nodded. “Going through Tom saved us a lot of running around though he charged almost half again what any other trader would have.”

“What do we do now?” Philip asked.

A smile crossed Penelope’s lips. “We could get a drink, I suppose.”

They found the goods they’d bought from Tom waiting for them by the time they arrived at the Trader’s Rest and spent the evening drinking in a quiet booth before retiring to their own rooms for the night. It felt strange for Philip to be sleeping in a proper bed again. As he lay in it, he reflected on the day’s events. Seeing his master again had been a surprise, but a welcome one. He was about to drift off to bed when he felt a familiar aura. It was distant and fleeting and disappeared almost as soon as he noticed it. He broke out in a cold sweat while wondering if he had imagined it. It was Grace’s aura.