It was noticeably colder now, the winds more chilled. It had not started to snow.

I hate the cold, Leisa thought. She was northern, having grown up in Nalandor, though the country was not as far north as Solen or Nelothar where it snowed more often than not. She wondered if they would see snowfall at the border. The land seemed to be climbing already. If Nelothar was a country of mountains, than the north of Nalandor were the foothills leading up to those mountains.

The two Serafes—they seemed keen on that not getting around—were not bothered by the weather. They were from the north. From Solen. They looked it, with their long golden hair and chiseled faces. Would they have their chins high like that when a blizzard hit? The two men acted more like lords than soldiers. She sniffed, wondering why the two men sold their swords. She didn’t know Serafes could do that. They were supposed to be men of honor, of undying loyalty, fierce in battle, and even better when commanding troops. Or so Jasen had said. Most of them were conscripted because of their natural ability to—

The lady mage touched her arm, leaned closer from horseback. “I did not tell you this before, child,” she said as her breath turned frosty in the air, “but the day we were ambushed by those... you did well.”

Leisa was not accustomed to praise from the mage. Was that a smile on her face? Leisa realized her mouth was open and shut it. “Thank you, my lady,” she said, unable to hide the smile on her face. Leisa hadn’t been much help. I never even killed anyone, she thought. Not that she wanted to. But she hadn’t died, either. She knew though that the mage was not watching for her ability to wield a sword in battle, but for her ability to be brave, to persevere.

She wondered if the mage was still angry about that night in the inn. She had compared Leisa’s behavior to that of a—what was it? A slattern in a tavern? It almost rhymed!

“What is it, child? You seem distant.”

Leisa changed the subject by asking the woman a question that had been nagging her ever since the attack on the road. “My lady, why did you not use your—your mage craft that day—the day on the road?”

Sorela turned her head to peer toward the front of the column, her purple cowl hiding most of her face. “It is important,” she finally said, glancing at Leisa, “that we, as mages, do not use our powers for harm.”

Leisa frowned. “You mean, you can’t defend yourself?”

“I can,” she said. “Though I choose not to, when I can—most mages choose not to when they can help it, as we are supposed to.”

It doesn’t seem right, Leisa thought. “Why not?”

“Because, child—“ She was cut off as Brassen and Yeisel galloped past. They had recruited the two sell swords—or sell axe in Yeisel’s case—a few days gone. The lady mage seemed irritated at how close they rode past her. They galloped on, fur trimmed cloaks flapping in the wind. They were very... Leisa didn’t know the right word. Rough spirited, perhaps?

Brassen and Yeisel always seemed more boisterous when things went about, though this time they were obviously running off steam, or maybe hoarfrost in this case. Jasen seemed nervous when they spoke to him. He was nervous when anyone spoke to him, but especially the lady mage or those two. They were unable to keep calm for very long—nothing like Falan or Serin. Why was that? The Serafes were north men as well, but nothing at all like Brassen or Yeisel. She would have to ask them about that. Why wasn’t Jasen pestering them? He knew what they were.

She glanced over her shoulder. Captain Caldren should have been back by now. He had left with the two Serafes to find more “friends.”

The lady mage leaned in. “Are you free, child?”

Leisa blinked. When the mage spoke, she always demanded complete attention. “I’m sorry, my lady,” She said, glancing at Sorela before lowering her eyes. “Please continue.”

“Where was I?” she asked, obviously testing Leisa if she had been listening rather than investing her attentions on other, less important things.

“You were telling me why mages avoid using their powers in self-defense, my lady.” She wasn’t certain, but Leisa thought she caught a hint of another smile behind the woman’s cowl.

“Yes,” Sorela said, her voice cool. “We only use our powers for good and the pursuit of knowledge. When the Hall of Mages was first founded, the mages therein swore an oath to serve, and not only to serve one nation, but all nations, so that the world might become a better place for it.”

Leisa nodded intently. “The Hall gives advice to rulers.”

“You will learn more of this when—if I should take you to the Hall, child.”

Was Sorela about to say “when”? Leisa smiled with excitement.

“Where is the Captain?” the mage asked, obviously trying to change the subject. Leisa had to work hard to suppress the unbidden smile on her face.