Lost by Sarah Prineas Page A

the magic would be like walking away from a warm fire into a howling snowstorm; I didn’t really want to do it.
    “I wanted you out of the city,” Nevery said. “It didn’t escape my notice, boy, that you did magic using pyrotechnics in the duchess’s chamber. The lothfalas spell, I assume?”
    I nodded and kept quiet. He didn’t look happy about it.
    “The magisters are watching you,” he said. “Captain Kerrn is watching you. They’re both waiting for you to get into more trouble.”
    “But Nevery, if I do pyrotechnics, I think I can talk to the magic,” I said.
    Nevery stopped suddenly, bent, and stared straight into my eyes. “Listen, boy. Whether that is true or not, it is far too dangerous. You must not do any more pyrotechnic experiments.” He gripped my shoulder. “Do you understand?”
    I understood. But if I didn’t do pyrotechnics, I was no use to the magic at all. I didn’t answer Nevery. I didn’t want to lie to him.
     
    Rowan and the rest of her envoyage left the next day. Only one main road came to Wellmet, and it led from the Dawn Palace, through the city, and then east, to Desh eventually, I guessed.
    Crowds of people, mostly from the Sunrise, had gathered along the street, standing under umbrellas in the drizzly rain, watching Rowan’s envoyage leave. A few people cheered; a few more people worked the crowd, picking pockets.
    The envoyage went past. First a group of guards in uniform, walking in quick-step through the puddles, then a wagon loaded withsupplies with a waterproofed canvas spread over it, then a shabby carriage, full of servants, most likely. Then another carriage; I saw Nimble sitting inside. So they’d sent a wizard along. That was a good idea.
    Then came Rowan. She rode a gray horse; its hooves clopped on the cobbled street. She wore dark green trousers, high boots, and an overcoat embroidered in green, and in the gray light her hair burned red, like flames. On one side of her rode Captain Kerrn in her green uniform; on the other rode her friend Argent on a fierce-looking black horse.
    Rowan looked tall and noble and a little cold in the chilly wind. As she passed where I was standing, she looked down at me and then away, straight ahead, and rode on.

 
    Rowan Forestal
    My mother has asked me to write a journal, to note my observations. She says that writing things down will help me to “articulate my experiences and thereby to understand them.” I suppose she is right about that. One thing I do not need to articulate any further is the fact that it was raining when we departed Wellmet, and continues to rain as I write this in my tent. The rain is articulated quite clearly in my wet coat, my wet boots, and the wet firewood that made the task of starting dinner rather difficult for our cook.
    We need to hurry to Desh,, so I insisted that we put in a long day of travel right out of Wellmet. Argent looked very fine in his blue frock coat, mounted on tall Midnight, but I noticed that he climbed stiffly out of the saddle when we stopped to make camp. We will soon be travel hardened. The road to Desh is a long one, and we must travel it swiftly.
    Desh will be a challenge. The magister my mother assigned to accompany us, Nimble, thinks it is unlikely the sorcerer-king of Desh, Lord Jaggus, is responsible for the Shadow attacks. But Nimble strikes me as a fool. He makes me wish Conn had come with us. I have taken enough apprentice classes to suspect that Conn knows more about magic than all the other magisters combined. I don’t know how he manages to make them, and my mother, and Captain Kerrn, so furious with him. Well, I suppose I am furious with him, too. It must be his particular talent.
    In any case, this envoyage will be my chance to prove to my mother and her council that I have learned my lessons and am perfectly capable of carrying out the mission they have given me.

CHAPTER 14
    I n the middle of the afternoon, I waited until Nevery’d left for a magisters’