Clad in breastplate, greaves, and armored gauntlet, Magdala’s charging opponent was a head taller and wielded a bearded war axe with a blade three hand spans wide. Against that, all Magdala had was her magic, one week’s training, and a new buckler and hand-axe. She grinned. It was almost enough to forget how hard it had been to light up the Duelist’s College training grounds by herself.

  Before her opponent reached her, Magdala drew a glass capsule out of a slot on the inside of her buckler, threw it, and closed her eyes. When the world beyond her eyelids dimmed, she opened them and dashed forward to attack, but her opponent was already swinging her axe blade at head height, forcing Magdala to duck and open herself up to a punch to the chest that sent her rolling across the ring.

  Her opponent opened a pair of brown eyes and winked. “Got ya.”

  Mei’s training got Magdala back on her feet with only a small bruise, a twinge of her barely healed wound, and a hit to her pride. She sidestepped her opponent’s downswing and retreated as the larger woman pressed her advantage. Magdala had another capsule, a sleep potion, but her opponent would be wise to that trick, so how would she find room to attack?

  What would her mother do?

  Right. Magic.

  “Qechinututem!”

  The Qe core set into the buckler strap on her left wrist flashed, heralding a blast of frigid pond water from the channels around the ring. It slammed into Magdala’s opponent, but she merely grunted as she leaned into the assault.

  Ridiculous. “Qechinututem!”

  This time Magdala’s opponent bent back, allowed the second water blast to blow by her, then ducked under it and charged. Desperate, Magdala threw the sleep capsule, but a gauntleted hand slapped it away while the other swung the war axe straight for her neck.

  Then it stopped, less than a wir from decapitation.

  “Point to the Sergeant,” called out Nathan Rutters from his seat at the edge of the ring.

  “Whew!” Dripping wet, Saundra let her axe drop.“I guess I have to thank you for the bath, milady.”

  “Any time.” Magdala rubbed her neck. “I thought I had you after I blinded you.”

  The message she’d received last night had been from her father, who’d wanted her to know that the remainder of his personal guard had arrived in Bradford for their final training and that he was sending one her way to learn how to deal with nobility.

  “Oh, I was ready for something tricksy.” Saundra grinned. “Mei wrote…” Her grin faded.

  “About my fight with her brother.” The excitement of the fight was gone now, and even to her, Magdala’s voice sounded like it came from far off. “Any notes?”

  “Not really.” Saundra sighed. “Look, I’m-”

  Magdala raised a hand. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. You weren’t even here. I just hate that they aren’t here now.”

  “Get yourself together, Gallus,” called out Rutters. “Moping isn’t like you.”

  Magdala rolled her eyes. “Why are you even here?”

  “As the sergeant’s prime sandbag,” he said, “I wanted to see what that looked like from the outside.” He scowled. “She barely hits you.”

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  “Unlike you, she hasn’t the years of fight training,” said Saundra, “but give her three months and she’ll be better than you, Lieutenant.” She shook water off her arm. “Make that two. Those water castings were a right surprise.”

  Magdala snorted. “You dodged them easily enough.”

  “Ah,” Saundra tapped her temples, “because I’ve been doing mind training. I figured if you’re your mother’s daughter then you’d be throwing water my way. All I had to do was brace myself.”

  Note: blasting opponents off their feet wasn’t going to work. “What if I made the ground muddy?”

  Saundra winced. “Please, don’t do that. You’ll make me wish I’d drowned.”

  “See how it feels?” Rutters asked.

  Saundra waved him off. “How about the new axe and buckler? All you dreamed of?”

  Magdala grinned. “Yes.”

  Her beautiful new hand-axe had a blade etched with galloping horses and a handle that fit perfectly in her hand. It even had a socket on the back of the blade where she could install a vial and add alchemical effects to her attacks, although she’d have to come up with something to put in. Where the axe was a work of art, the buckler was a work of genius. It had metal hoops to hold up to three capsules and the straps she used to keep it on her wrist had slots for an ambitious three magical cores. As a faithful follower of Cueller, Langseth couldn’t be satisfied with less.

  “She nearly drove Langseth mad with last minute additions,” said Rutters.

  Saundra grimaced. “You said you wouldn’t tell.”

  “I did not.”

  “You did.”

  “What I said was that I’d keep my mouth shut, and you said you’d be my back up when we went drinking, and here I am sober and nowhere near a tavern.”

  “That cannot be all you think about.”

  “Oh, please, like you don’t-”

  “Was it hard to switch to an axe?” Magdala asked.

  “Naw.” Saundra hefted the weapon in question. “It was simple, mostly timing and measuring distance.”

  “Tell her to switch back,” said Rutters. “The rest of the squad and I would appreciate it.”

  “I can’t.” Magdala touched her axe blade to Saundra’s. “We’re still missing one. Also,” she steeled herself, “I need your help.”

  “Finding Dwayne?” asked Saundra.

  Magdala nodded.

  “Right.” Saundra’s mouth worked. “Well, I’m with you.”

  “I’m not,” said Rutters.

  Magdala rolled her eyes. “Help and I’ll drown you in beer.”

  “Promise?”

  “First,” Magdala turned back to Saundra, “we find Mei and she’ll find Dwayne.”

  “Can we get her rifle-thing fixed?” asked Saundra.

  “No.”

  Actually, they could, but after a single day of looking for a blacksmith willing to work so late in the season, Magdala had received an official looking letter from the Tuquese diplomatic delegation. The contents of the letter were irrelevant; what it meant was “Stop.”

  “I wasn’t able to find anyone.” But did they need to? “However, I might be able to create a replacement.”

  “Good.” Saundra put her axe on her shoulder. “Where do we start?”

  Magdala sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve already checked every district and quarter in Bradford. The only place I haven’t checked is the Tower, which is under Sen Jerome guard, and she wouldn’t go there anyways.”

  “Could Dwayne be there?”

  Magdala gave Saundra a look. “What idiot would put him there?”

  Saundra put her hands up. “I’m just asking. What about Huan? Could we track him down.”

  “I have no idea where he is.”

  “Lucky for him,” muttered Rutters. “I have a sword with his name on it.”

  Rutters blamed Huan for the death of his former knight, Sir Marcus of Pollum. At the time, it was assumed that a Vanurian revenant had killed him, but considering Huan’s confirmed status as a traitor and a thief, perhaps that needed to be revisited.

  Saundra put them back on task. “What about her other friends?”

  “I’ve talked to everyone she knows,” said Magdala. “All except…” Would Magdala even be able to get close to her? “Saundra, do you have anything else to wear?”

  Saundra frowned. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  “We have our dress uniform,” said Rutters brightly.

  “No,” Saundra shook her head, “anything but that.” She sent pleading eyes Magdala’s way. “Your father designed it. I swear a hangman’s noose is looser.”

  The outfit Magdala’s father had had made for Dwayne had its appeal, for the looker if not for the wearer.

  “It comes with a sword,” said Rutters.

  “One you could snap between two fingers.”

  “Still.”

  It sounded perfect.

  “I’ll wear what you’re wearing.” Saundra gestured to Magdala’s tailored vest, blouse, and trousers. “That looks comfortable.”

  “If you want it, we’ll need to go to see the designer. Meet me at Sanford two bells before sunrise.” Magdala smiled. “Wear your dress uniform.”