Sam’s first hint that they’d reached their destination was a faint scent that carried on the breeze to his nose. He was in a stupor from that morning’s training session, and thus had his head down, barely aware of more than the few feet that his feet traversed with each step. He’d begun counting his steps after their mid-day break, but had slipped up and lost track. Several times, he reached over twelve thousand before restarting. Multiple times.

  ? His head jerked up as the smell of something like smoke reached his nose. His first thought was that they were coming up on the camping site of another traveling group. Such a thing had happened multiple times on their trek, as the high road served over half the nation. But when his eyes landed upon a tall wall that had seemingly grown out of the earth right then and there, he came to a halt, causing the Mage Guard behind him to collide with him.

  ? “Watch it, lad!” The man growled, then also looked up. “Ah. We’re here.”

  ? Perhaps understanding that his stop was due to awe at the sight and size of the wall, he patted Sam on the shoulder in understanding and simply walked around, as did several others. Only Merida came to a stop beside him, resting an arm around his shoulders, and grinning up at the walls of the city.

  ? “Pretty, ain’t it?” She said in a low growl. When he could offer nothing more in response than a shaky nod, she let out a bark of laughter. “Well, if Elves are good at anything, it’s makin’ pretty buildings, that’s for sure.”

  ? She gave him a rough slap on the back that made him stumble forward, and added, “Well, don’t gawk too long, boy. We’ve all had a long journey, and we want to get off our feet.”

  ? The mere mention of the length of their journey brought Sam back to the present situation and reminded him sharply of the pain in his feet. Wincing, he started forward again, acutely aware of the blisters between his toes. Despite the pain, his head turned rapidly in all directions, trying–and failing–to take in all of the city around them at once.

  ? For the first few hundred feet, it seemed no different than Harbard’s Reach. Large swaths of the ground had been given over to farms, with a dozen or more men working each field. Yet even here, there was already a key difference. The workers were obviously employing magic. Two young adults, younger than Sam, used some kind of spell to lift a heavy section of fence and turn it upright before an older man forced the sharpened bottoms of each log into the ground with a grunt. That spell gave off the distinct scent of earth magic. On another field, a woman was sending small blades of air along the ground, cutting down huge swaths of wheat, then funneling it all into a car beside her with smaller uses of air.

  ? “Magic is everywhere here,” he muttered, not quite meaning to voice the thought aloud.

  ? “Of course it is,” Merida replied, barely sparing half a glance for the sights that had so quickly captivated him. “I’ll wager at least half of those people graduated from Harvest School.”

  ? “Harvest School?” Sam queried. He’d never heard of an educational institute apart from the Academy of the Elements. Judging by the name, it focused on magicks that assisted with farm work.

  ? “You know,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “They teach how to aid crop growth and all the small repair spells that are handy for that type of work. Nothing you need to concern yourself with. You’re going to the Academy, lad! You don’t need to know about low magic like this!”

  ? That statement was overwhelmingly false. Now that he knew the field existed, he was interested in learning it. All magic caught his eye, and he wasn’t going to lock him into such foolish concepts as ‘higher’ or ‘lower’ magicks. He spared a glance at Merida, ready to tell her that, but caught the expectant twinkle in her eye. She was… expecting such a response from him. Somehow, the idea that he was being tested irked him, even if he did feel a small thrill of pleasure at meeting her expectations.

  ? “Can I at least get used to the city before people start testing me?” He grumbled.

  ? Merida wasn’t the only one to laugh at him for that. Flushing slightly, Sam resolutely turned to watch the farms again. But they were close to the wall now, and he’d have to properly stop again to view the workers. And Merida still had an arm around his shoulder, making sure he did nothing of the sort.

  ? “There will be plenty of time for you to tour the city at a later date,” Peran said, appearing around one of the wagons to come walk beside them. “In fact, part of your education will require learning these magicks. I will tolerate no complaints. True mastery of magic means being aware of a wide range of spells and their uses.”

  ? Hearing his mentor validate his earlier thoughts bolstered Sam’s spirits slightly. They were bolstered even further when the leader of the Mage Guard called out from the front of the caravan. “Let’s pull off the road for a break!”

  ? Peran, obviously less than pleased at the prospect, instantly frowned and moved forward. “Why are we stopping, Commander? We’ve barely half an hour left to reach the Academy!”

  ? Sam followed Peran, half-hoping that his mentor would be overruled. His feet weren’t the only source of pain, and his entire being screamed with joy at the prospect of a break. When they made it to the front of the caravan, he was surprised to see a rather large cluster of people nearby. The commander pointed at the crowd. “We had bad timing, Peran. Supply drop-off is still going. They’ll be another hour.”

  ? Peran growled his displeasure, but didn’t try to dissuade the commander further. Sensing his obvious displeasure, the man shook his head, grinning. “You’re free to go on ahead, of course. I wouldn’t dream of giving you any commands. But look at the boy. He’s dead on his feet. He’s likely to fall over trying to climb the hill.”

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  ? Peran didn’t glance Sam’s way, but the rigidity of his posture did soften somewhat. Letting out a low sigh, he simply waved his agreement. “Very well. Fortuitous timing, as usual.”

  ? “Now, now,” the commander retorted, grinning broadly now. “You make it sound as if I have some higher power that can alter fate. It’s a lucky accident, nothing more!”

  ? Sam felt he was missing something there. Glancing around at the other Mage Guards, he saw evidence of more broad grins. Was this some kind of practical joke that Peran had experienced before? That felt likely, but nobody offered an explanation as the carts were turned at a sharp angle, which led to an open space between two buildings. On the right, a squat, single-story building jutted out partially onto the street and had an attached storage. The universal sign of a smith hung over the front door. It was obviously a place where feed could be purchased, mounts could be rested, and small repairs to equipment and carts could be made.

  ? The building on the left, however, was a three-story structure with white walls and a clean, well-maintained garden. The sign over this door bore not just an icon–a tankard frothing over with ale–but also had words, depicting the name of the establishment in both Elven and Morran. *The Heron Tavern*. This was clearly what the soldiers were after, given that the few not busy with parking the wagons were already strolling eagerly toward its door.

  ? “They’re taking a break for some ale?” Sam asked. As much as he wanted a break and to get off his feet, he had to agree–partially–with Peran’s exasperation. Surely the soldiers could get ale anywhere.

  ? “Not just ale, boy,” one of them called over his shoulder. “The best ale!”

  ? “It’s a rite of passage, “Merida said, reclaiming his shoulders with one arm and rather forcefully steering him toward the swinging door. “Come on. You can’t say you’ve properly visited until you’ve had Mandra’s cooking. So we might as well get it out of the way.”

  ? Sam didn’t attempt to resist her, and not just because she was so much stronger. The mention of food–not to mention the smell of it wafting out onto the street–pulled him along almost as forcefully as Merida’s guidance. He couldn’t even find a complaint about the level of noise that washed over him as they pushed inside. Even Peran, a few steps behind, seemed to have lost most of his indignation.

  ? After a second to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light, Sam gawked at the taproom inside. Easily four or five times the size of Thomas’ tavern in Harbard’s Reach, there had to be a hundred people seated at the large circular tables that were scattered throughout the room. He had to turn back to check the door he’d just used, sure that he’d somehow crossed into a different dimension. The interior was simply too large to be allowed in the building he’d seen from the outside.

  ? Merida continued to hamper his desire to stop and study his surroundings, forcing him to one side and pushing him down into a chair at a table along one edge of the room. Once seated, he couldn’t even properly make out the other side of the taproom. Some strange magic had to be at play here, his instinct told him. He could even feel mana in the wall beside him. Something to expand the available space, without affecting reality outside the building?

  ? “Well, well, well. Here’s a grumpy face I haven’t seen in quite a while. I thought you’d grown tired of my cooking, Lucian!”

  ? Sam glanced around as Lucian lowered himself gracefully into a seat across from Sam and saw that a smiling, red-haired woman had approached their table. A shiver ran down Sam’s spine at the sight of her, a sensation that he knew at once had nothing to do with her beauty–though she was gorgeous. She was perhaps in her early thirties, and she projected a warm, maternal air that immediately made him feel at home. Even the bustle of the rest of the room faded away at the sight of her. But in the back of his mind, Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that this woman was somehow… familiar to him. He was sure he’d never seen the woman in his life, and yet, strangely, he knew at once that this was Mandra.

  ? “I wouldn’t dream of it, Mandra,” Peran replied at once. The stoic man reflected her smile with ease. Was it his imagination, or had most of the man’s stoic nature evaporated at this woman’s presence? He looked twenty years younger, as if her smile had turned him into a hungry teenager, no older than Sam himself.

  ? “We’ve been on the coast for nearly a month, Mandra!” Merida chipped in beside him. There was an obvious pleading note in her voice. “We’ve nearly starved without your cooking! Please, save us!”

  ? Nearly all the Mage Guard echoed the plea, and Mandra merely smiled. She reached out one hand to pinch Merida’s cheek, her smile widening. “You do look skinnier, Merida. Well, let’s get some food in that stomach. Can’t have you dropping while working for this taskmaster, can we?”

  ? With a roguish wink in Lucian’s direction, she reached into the pocket of her apron and produced a handful of cutlery and, leaning over the table, placed bundles in front of each of them. Sam watched in wonder as she exchanged a greeting with each member of the Mage Guard, remembering them by name–to their obvious pleasure. In seconds, these hardened men and women, conditioned from a life of hard travel and combat, regressed into eager children, looking to their mother for warmth, approval, and most of all, food.

  ? She was clearly gifted at her job, Sam thought, to know all of their names. Even if they’d come every day, the sheer size of the taproom hinted at the fact that Mandra would have to work extra hard to remember the names of every patron who visited the establishment. And when she turned her eyes to Sam, and that warmth was directed at him in its full force, he understood why the others were so eager to plead for her to feed them. He nearly echoed their pleading, but resisted with a slight effort.

  ?? Strangely, her smile faltered slightly as she regarded Sam, and for a moment, he thought she might recognize him as well. But the smile was at its full power the next instant, and he was forced to discard the thought. It was probably because she reminded him of his mother, he thought.

  ? “Coffee for the newcomer,” she said, giving him a similar wink to Lucian’s. “Quarter milk and two spoons of honey, right?”

  ? Another shiver ran down his spine. That was exactly how he took his coffee. “Y-yes, please. How…”

  ? “It’s my job, dear,” she said, sensing his impending question. “I think you’ll like what’s on offer for lunch, too. But I’ll swap the potatoes with asparagus, just for you.”

  ? Sam could only gape and nod his agreement. Somehow, she also knew of his dislike of potatoes. Was this some master mage in disguise, plucking the thoughts straight out of his head? Before he could think to ask something to that effect, Mandra was moving away from the table. The sense of warmth and home that had come with her smile lingered in the air, and he slumped back in his chair, fully befuddled. Merida cackled and patted him gently on the shoulder.

  ? “Love seeing that reaction in new people,” she chortled. “Don’t worry, you get used to it. Mandra’s got a gift. And she’s never wrong about what you might or might not like.”