Free Wardragon by Paul Collins Page A

name she had once used in order to save her life from her family’s assassins. Taggar, who was to accompany her back to Argentia, finished packing noodles and other dry condiments and water into his rollpack. Jelindel had offered to change Taggar’s appearance also, but he declined, saying that he had already taken such precautions. Jelindel did not press him. All such magic cost energy to maintain. The less, the better.
    ‘I still say this is madness,’ said Daretor. ‘We should all go.’
    ‘And attract even more attention? No. I truly believe this way is safer for us all,’ Jelindel said with finality. ‘Besides, two manifestations are all I can handle comfortably at one time.’
    ‘I’m afraid I have to agree,’ said Zimak, lounging in an armchair picking his teeth and drinking D’loomian coffee. ‘Whoever said there’s safety in numbers got it wrong.’
    Before Daretor could respond, Jelindel said, ‘If Taggar and I fail then you two will still be able to carry on. If necessary, make contact with some of our old comrades.’

    Half an hour later, Jelindel and Taggar climbed to the top of the stairs and headed off across the rooftops, careful to stay out of sight of the streets three storeys below. Daretor and Zimak watched them go, knowing they would put as much distance between themselves and the well-known archmage’s house as they could before descending to street level. They would then make their way to the marketplace where they would join a labour crew bound for Argentia. Daretor did not like to think what would become of them.

Chapter 5

    The Lure of Argentia

    T he marketplace was packed and noisy. The long queues filled the great square and families stood along the boundaries, watching their menfolk move sluggishly towards the rows of seated accountors and whatever grim future fate held in store for them. Wives wrung their hands, children stood clutching their mothers’ legs, watching the proceedings with dull, uncomprehending eyes, aware only that father must go away to a far place, else none would eat.
    Jelindel and Taggar joined the line for Argentia. Because of the pay rates and bonuses it offered there were many more applicants than for other towns and projects, and also more accountors, which sped things up a little.
    Even so, the waiting worried Jelindel. She craned her neck to see over the crowds as though seeking someone.
    Taggar seemed to read her thoughts. ‘You’re thinking of Daretor.’
    ‘He’s stiff-necked and stubborn, and honourable to a fault. And very irritating sometimes. Much like a brother or sister.’
    Taggar smiled. ‘You love him then.’ It was not a question, nor was it mocking.
    Jelindel shrugged a yes. ‘But there are times when I’d like to throttle him.’
    ‘Out of his own fear, he stops you from changing.’
    Jelindel looked at Taggar, who added, ‘All things change, or else they die.’
    Jelindel said nothing. Change or die. Great choice. But wasn’t changing just another kind of dying? The old self replaced by the new?
    They neared the head of the queue.
    ‘Claim a useful skill,’ Taggar whispered. ‘You will have more status and more freedom when we get our assignments in Argentia.’
    Jelindel dutifully told the accountor that she had some skill in mage-metallurgy. The accountor eyed her suspiciously. No doubt many claimed skills they did not have. ‘You can shape, punch and bend?’
    She nodded, trying to appear nonchalant.
    ‘Can you also join ?’ he asked scornfully, as if he already knew that no lowly labourer in his queue could possibly have such a skill.
    ‘I can.’
    ‘You will be tested, you know.’
    ‘Of course.’ Jelindel pretended surprise. ‘I didn’t expect you to take me at my word.’
    The accountor’s eyes widened a trifle – if what the man said was true, the accountor was in for a fat bonus. He actually smiled, something no one had seen him do in a full month.
    ‘Sign here,’ he said. ‘If you can’t sign make