"And who might those be?"

  Sael turned to look at Margaret. She was squinting down the hill, one hand shading her eyes as she tried to make out the approaching figures.

  "The Duke of Orlys," Sael said. "Richter Eryndor. The one with him is Koleen Andor, headmaster of the academy. The two younger ones are Ilsa and Orion."

  Margaret's expression shifted immediately. Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward slightly, watching the approaching group with sudden intensity.

  "Richter?" Her voice was soft, almost wondering. "That's Richter? Coming up the hill right now?"

  "Yes."

  She stood up smoothly, without the careful rising she'd done before. Without even reaching for her cane. She didn't seem to notice she'd left it lying on the ground beside the bench.

  Her eyes tracked the group as they climbed, and Sael saw her hand come up to her mouth.

  "I can see him," she whispered.

  She was quiet for a moment, just watching. Then her gaze shifted to the smaller figures trailing behind the Duke and headmaster.

  "And my Ilsa," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "That's my little Ilsa?"

  It felt strange to Sael, hearing that, hearing those words come from someone who used to look like a child herself. He made a chuckle, prompting Margaret to glance at him.

  "What's funny?"

  "Nothing," Sael said, still smiling. "Just the irony of the situation."

  She looked at him for a moment, then down at herself, and her own lips twitched.

  "I suppose I do look rather ridiculous playing the doting grandmother now, don't I?"

  "Not ridiculous. Just... unexpected."

  "That's my Ilsa though?" Margaret asked again, her eyes going back to the hill. There was something almost desperate in the question, like she needed to confirm it one more time.

  "Yes," Sael said. "That's young Ilsa."

  Margaret watched them for another moment, then huffed impatiently.

  "They're taking forever." She glanced at Sael. "Shall we meet them halfway?"

  Sael offered his arm, and she took it, though she didn't lean on him the way she had before. Her steps were steadier now, more assured.

  "My knees," she said, wonder in her voice. "They feel almost like new. No grinding, no aching. I'd forgotten what it was like to walk without pain."

  "Hmm."

  Intense satisfaction, this hmm.

  "And I can see their faces." She squeezed his arm.

  They met the group halfway down the path. Richter stopped first, the others halting behind him. For a moment, everyone just stared.

  "Master Sael," Richter said, breaking the silence. He inclined his head respectfully. "Lady Margaret."

  Koleen echoed the greeting, and the two young ones mumbled their own.

  Then Richter's eyes went back to Margaret, really looking at her now. His mouth opened slightly.

  "Your eyes..." The words came out barely above a whisper. "How?"

  Margaret smiled up at him. "Grandpa Sael, of course."

  Richter's gaze shifted to Sael. He bowed, deeper this time, and when he straightened there was something fierce in his expression.

  "I don't know how to thank you," he said. "What you've done for her—for our family—"

  "You don't need to thank me," Sael said quietly.

  But Margaret was already looking past Richter to the others, her eyes bright with curiosity. She studied each face in turn, putting images to voices she'd known for years.

  "So these are the people I've been talking to all this time," she said. Her gaze settled on Richter's face, and she tilted her head slightly. "And those eyebrows! Just as absurd as I imagined. The Eryndor curse lives on." She laughed. "You have grandpa Bran's eyebrows exactly."

  Richter blinked. "Really?"

  "Really," Sael confirmed.

  Margaret's smile softened as she turned to Ilsa. "And you, my dear. What a fine young lady you've become. Even more beautiful than I imagined."

  Ilsa's cheeks flushed pink. "Grandmother..."

  "Don't you 'grandmother' me in that tone," Margaret said, though her eyes were warm. Then she looked at Orion, who stood slightly behind Ilsa, looking uncertain.

  "And you must be Orion," Margaret said. "Ilsa's told me about you."

  "My lady," Orion said quickly, bowing. "It's an honor."

  "Oh, none of that," Margaret waved a hand dismissively. "Any friend of Ilsa's doesn't need to be so formal with me."

  Koleen cleared his throat gently. "Forgive me for interrupting this reunion," he said, his eyes shifting between Margaret and Sael, "but I must say, witnessing such restoration is... extraordinary. I've studied healing magic for decades, and I've never seen anything quite like this."

  "It is rather remarkable, isn't it?" Margaret said. She turned her hands over, examining them like they were new acquisitions. "I can see the lines on my own palms. Do you know how long it's been since I could do that?"

  "Too long," Ilsa said softly.

  "Far too long," Margaret agreed. She reached out and touched Ilsa's cheek. "And now I can see your face clearly when you smile."

  Ilsa's eyes were getting wet.

  "Don't you start crying," Margaret said firmly. "I've had enough tears for one day. This is a happy occasion."

  Sael felt something shift in the air. Not magically. Just... atmospherically. The weight of the moment settling over all of them.

  He should probably say something.

  But then his eyes caught on something at Richter's side, and the thought evaporated.

  There was a bulge in the Duke's coat. It wasn't obvious, but noticeable if you were looking. The shape suggested folded parchment. Official documents, probably.

  Sael's mind clicked back to the reason they were all here.

  Time was, as they said, of the essence.

  "Duke Richter," Sael said, his tone shifting slightly. "Is that the writ?"

  The pleasant atmosphere shifted immediately. Everyone's attention snapped back to focus.

  Richter's hand went to his coat. "Yes. I had it prepared as soon as you left." He reached in and pulled out what looked like an official paper: thick parchment, folded once, sealed with wax that hadn't been broken yet.

  He extended the letter with both hands, holding it at chest height.

  "Archmage," Richter said, his voice taking on a more formal tone. "This is a ducal writ, sealed with my authority as Lord of Orlys and the western provinces."

  Sael took it carefully. The parchment was thick and looked expensive.

  "The contents authorize the immediate cessation of all mining operations in Marrix under House Eryndor's oversight," Richter continued. "Captain Dernwell, who commands the ducal guard stationed there, is instructed to detain all mages currently employed in those operations and hold them for questioning regarding their involvement with Professor Aldric's activities."

  "Thank you," Sael said, and meant it. This would help. But something was nagging at him. "Are you certain the people there can arrest a hundred and fifty full-fledged mages?"

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  It was a reasonable question. Mages didn't tend to appreciate being detained, and a hundred and fifty of them could cause serious problems if they decided to object collectively.

  "Captain Dernwell commands two hundred men," Richter said. "Half of them are combat-trained. A quarter have anti-magic equipment. Enchanted restraints, dispel rods, the kind of tools you need when dealing with practitioners who might object to being detained. If the mages in Marrix cooperate, the arrests will proceed smoothly. If they don't..." He paused. "The captain is authorized to use necessary force."

  Sael nodded slowly. That made sense. You didn't put someone in charge of a remote outpost without giving them the resources to handle problems.

  "But," Richter continued, and something in his tone made Sael look up, "if circumstances require it. If Captain Dernwell is unable or unwilling to execute these orders, or if you encounter resistance that exceeds his capability to manage, you have the authority to act independently."

  "I see," Sael said.

  He looked at the writ again. Then back at Richter.

  "Thank you for being so proactive about this."

  Richter inclined his head. "The Duchy owes you a debt for this, Archmage. Your efforts here have been invaluable."

  Sael wondered if he thanked the Duke again whether it might turn into some kind of thanking competition. So he decided to just nod instead. A firm, decisive nod.

  That seemed to work. Richter's posture relaxed slightly, and the formal air between them eased.

  Koleen cleared his throat again.

  Sael turned to look at him. The headmaster was leaning on his staff, the wood dark and worn smooth by decades of handling. His robes hung a bit loose on his frame, and despite the deep lines on his face, his eyes were sharp. Alert. Respectful in a way that made Sael feel like he was being measured rather than simply observed.

  The old man approached a few steps, his staff tapping against the ground with each movement.

  "Great Archmage," he said. "From what I have gathered, you intend to depart for Marrix with all reasonable haste?"

  "Yes," Sael said. "It's important to deal with this now."

  The headmaster tilted his head slightly. "The continent of Marrix lies a considerable distance from our shores. By conventional means, the journey requires nearly six months of travel. One must traverse the Great Monster Ocean, weather permitting, and survive the crossing intact." He paused. "Forgive my curiosity, but how do you propose to reach such a destination in a timeframe conducive to immediate action?"

  Sael thought about it for a second. "It should take me a few hours. Flying fast enough and teleporting when I need to."

  The Duke looked at him.

  The headmaster looked at him.

  Ilsa and Orion both turned to stare.

  Margaret just smiled like she'd expected exactly that answer.

  Then the headmaster burst out laughing.

  "Forgive me," he said between gasps. "Forgive me, Archmage. It is not every day that one hears teleportation at such a scale mentioned so casually. As though it were no more remarkable than taking a carriage to the next town over." He straightened up, still smiling. "I would have taken it as a jest had it not been for the one who said it."

  Sael scratched the back of his head. "Higher circle spells are mostly hard because of the mana they require. Once you optimize the spell structure and efficiency, you can do wonders with them if you have enough mana to sustain it."

  The headmaster's expression shifted. The amusement was still there, but now he looked curious.

  "And how," he asked slowly, "did you accomplish such optimization?"

  Sael considered the question. He could explain it. Walk them through the theory, the adjustments he'd made to the standard formulae, the way he'd layered certain components to reduce waste. But that would take a while, and he was supposed to be leaving soon.

  "How about I show you when I come back?"

  The headmaster's eyes lit up like Sael had just offered him a chest full of gold.

  "You're coming back?"

  The voice was young.

  Everyone turned.

  Orion stood there looking like he'd just realized he'd spoken out loud. His face went red immediately, and he ducked his head.

  "I apologize," he muttered. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

  Sael chuckled.

  The boy's embarrassment was so obvious that it was impossible not to find it endearing. Orion looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

  "Yes," Sael said. "I'll be back. It seems appropriate to report to the Duke and have him take whatever measures are necessary based on what I find. And besides, I still need to show the headmaster how the teleportation works."

  He glanced at Koleen, who had been standing quietly through all of this. "I assume you'll want a full account of what happened in Marrix as well. Since it involves your institution's former employees."

  Koleen nodded. "I would appreciate that greatly."

  Margaret squeezed Sael's arm. "And you'll want to visit an old woman who can finally see your face properly when you return, won't you?"

  "Of course," Sael said.

  Ilsa was smiling now, though there was still that hint of sadness in her expression. The disappointment of having her quest taken from her, even if she understood why. Sael looked down at the writ in his hand. The seal was still unbroken. He turned it over once, feeling the weight of it, then tucked it carefully into his coat.

  "I should leave soon," he said. "The sooner I get there, the sooner we'll know what we're actually dealing with."

  Sael was about to take his first step when something occurred to him.

  "Ah."

  Everyone's attention snapped back to him.

  He reached into his coat and pulled out the mirror. The surface was still smooth and reflective. The others all looked at it, their expressions ranging from curious to confused.

  "I almost forgot about this fellow," Sael said.

  He gave the mirror a good shake.

  There was a shimmer, a ripple across the glass, and then something small and green tumbled out onto the grass. It landed with a soft thump and immediately tried to hop away.

  Sael reached down and grabbed it.

  The frog squirmed in his hand, its legs kicking frantically. Its bulbous eyes rolled around in panic.

  "Hold still," Sael muttered.

  He pointed his finger at the creature. The spell came together in his mind, then...

  "[Dispel]."

  The air around the frog twisted.

  There was a sound like fabric tearing, and then the frog wasn't a frog anymore.

  It was a man.

  A full grown man, about six feet tall, who appeared in Sael's grip where the small amphibian had been a second ago. The sudden change in weight made Sael adjust his stance, but he didn't let go.

  The man screamed.

  It was a high pitched, panicked sound that echoed across the hilltop. His arms and legs flailed wildly, and he tried to jump backward, which only resulted in him nearly toppling over since Sael still had a grip on his shoulder.

  "Calm down," Sael said.

  The man kept screaming.

  "Calm down..."

  The screaming continued. The man's eyes were wide and unfocused. He was looking around like he didn't know where he was or what was happening. His mouth opened and closed rapidly, and his tongue flicked out.

  "You're back to normal," Sael said firmly. "Stop screaming. You're fine."

  The man's screaming tapered off into a kind of whimpering gasp. He blinked rapidly, his hands coming up to touch his own face. His fingers prodded at his cheeks, his nose, his forehead.

  "Human," he whispered. "I'm human again."

  "Yes. You're human again."

  The man's legs gave out. Sael caught him before he could fall and lowered him carefully to the ground, where he sat in a heap and stared at his own hands like they were the most fascinating things in the world.

  There was silence on the hilltop.

  Sael looked up and realized that everyone was staring at him.

  "This was one of the assassins hired to kill me," he explained quickly, mostly to clarify the situation and avoid looking like the sort of spell-happy mage who turned people into objects for so much as a suspicious glance.

  "Ah," Richter said, his tone going flat.

  Margaret's eyebrows rose. "You turned an assassin into a frog?"

  "It seemed appropriate at the time."

  The man on the ground was still staring at his hands. He lifted one up in front of his face and wiggled his fingers. Then he tried to croak, and when no sound came out, he looked confused.

  Then he seemed to realize where he was and who he was surrounded by, and the relief vanished. His eyes went wide again, and he scrambled backward on his hands and feet.

  "Please don't turn me back into a frog," he said. "Please. I'll do anything. I'll tell you anything. Just don't turn me back."

  "I wasn't planning on it," Sael said.

  "I didn't take the shot!" The man was talking fast now, words tumbling over each other. "It was the fox! I was just there to—"

  "Who's 'the fox'?" Richter asked. His voice was sharp.

  The man flinched.

  "I personally hold no grudge," Sael said. "So there's no need to judge them."

  Richter's expression suggested he disagreed quite strongly with that assessment. But he was polite enough not to voice it. He just looked at the man on the ground coldly enough to make it very clear the man's fate was not yet decided.

  The former frog tried to stand up, failed, and settled for sitting cross-legged on the grass.

  Sael turned away from him and looked at Ilsa.

  She was standing a little apart from the others, her arms crossed loosely over her chest.

  "I apologize," Sael said.

  She looked up, surprised.

  "I know this expedition to Marrix was your Right of Quest. This probably took a turn you didn't expect. I didn't mean to take that away from you."

  "No!" Ilsa said quickly. Too quickly. She took a breath and tried again. "Not at all. This is... it's much larger than I anticipated. It's a threat that needs to be dealt with by someone with your capabilities. I understand that completely."

  She was trying to sound professional and reasonable. But Sael could hear the disappointment underneath.

  "House Eryndor and the academy's reputation could be at stake," she continued. "And if there's truly a conspiracy involving staff members, then it's only right that you investigate it thoroughly. I wouldn't want to get in the way of that."

  She's much more reasonable than Bushy Brows would have been, Sael thought. If it had been him, he'd be fighting to come along right now. Probably insisting it was still his quest and that he had a right to see it through.

  The mental image of it made Sael chuckle.

  Ilsa looked confused by the sound, but she didn't ask.

  "I'll be back," Sael said. "And when I return, we can discuss what happens next. Perhaps there will still be aspects of this situation that require your attention."

  Ilsa's expression brightened slightly. "Really?"

  "Really."

  Margaret smiled at that, then looked up at Sael. "Be careful, Grandpa Sael."

  "I will."

  Sael nodded to all of them. First to Margaret, then to Richter, then to the headmaster and the two young ones.

  "I should be going now."

  They all bowed, except for little Margaret. Which was excessive, in Sael's opinion, but he'd given up trying to stop people from doing that. It just seemed to make them more determined.

  The spell came easily. "[Float]."

  His feet lifted off the ground. Slowly at first, just an inch or two. Then more. The grass fell away beneath him, and the faces of the people on the hilltop tilted up to watch him rise.

  The frog man was crying now. He'd curled into a ball on the ground and was making soft, hiccuping sounds. His legs kept twitching. His hands kept reaching up to touch his face, as if he still couldn't quite believe he was human again.

  Transformation reversals did that sometimes. The mind took a while to catch up with the body. The man would probably spend the next few hours feeling like he should be hopping instead of walking, trying to catch flies with a tongue that was too short, breathing wrong because his lungs were shaped differently than he remembered.

  It would pass. Probably.

  Sael kept rising.

  Ten feet. Twenty. Fifty.

  The world was getting smaller beneath him. The Duke and his party were dots now, small figures on a green hill. Margaret's white hair caught the sunlight. The academy buildings in the distance looked like a collection of blocks. The forest beyond was a dark smudge against the horizon.

  He went higher.

  Two hundred feet. Three hundred.

  The wind was stronger up here. It pulled at his coat and tried to tug his hair loose. He could see for miles in every direction. The curve of the land. The glint of the river cutting through the valley. The scattered villages that looked like specks of white against the green.

  Time to move.

  "[Flight]."

  The spell wrapped around him, and he shot forward like an arrow released from a bow.

  The hilltop disappeared behind him. The city of Orlys blurred past. The landscape became a streak of green and brown and blue.

  He angled himself toward the east and accelerated.