An ordinary candle lit up in one of the windows right above us, and a man looking out asked in a drunken voice:

– … ... What … is … happening here … your … ...?

The meaning of the tirade thickly mixed with obscenities, it seems, did not immediately reach the hooligans, but at least they were distracted. The man was immediately dragged deeper into the room by a woman, whose frightened voice tried to persuade her husband not to interfere. He growled in response, but still retreated from the window.

The number of witnesses to the crime instantly increased to five. And how many other dark windows watched the street secretly?

The criminals also understood this, so they became increasingly gloomy, but did nothing. Taking advantage of the pause, I sat down next to the northern woman.

– Hurry up, get up! – she asked in a whisper, offering the girl her shoulder.

Butmore fussed over and grabbed her by the elbow, trying to lead her to the gig.

– I won’t go anywhere without my things! They stole them! “She was in no hurry to get away from the place of potential death.

– Nobody stole anything from you! Just wanted to joke! Who knew that you were completely bruised! – Mom’s Pie lost his nerves.

He was the first of all to arrive and, grabbing Mikael by the arm, tried to lead him into the alley.

– Return everything safe and sound, otherwise the ruler will know about your trick. I'll take care of it! – I threatened, carefully dragging the northern woman in the opposite direction. – Things should be sent…

I looked expressively at the victim.

“To the Academy of Wind and Storms,” she muttered reluctantly.

– To the Academy of Wind and Storms. Clear? – I echoed. “And if I find out that anything is missing or damaged…” without saying anything, I arched my eyebrow meaningfully.

More precisely, I imagined how Grymza does it. I couldn’t do that well myself.

Mikael hesitated, nodded and finally allowed himself to be led away.

Considering the conversation over, I led the northern woman to the gig. She walked not too willingly and did not take her frowning, promising gaze off the backs of the would-be killers disappearing into a dark alley, but she did not provoke them again. She probably decided that it was better to disperse peacefully this time than to continue the obviously losing confrontation.

Once we were in the wagon, Bathmore breathed more freely. Jumping onto the box, he lashed with the reins, and we were pressed into the seat. The ice fence ahead was broken by the same lightning, and its fragments had already melted considerably. Having released an air wave, the driver scattered the remains, clearing the passage, and drove the horse to the station.

– Thank you, eshsheri. But you shouldn’t have taken such risks at your age,” the northern woman expressed her gratitude ambiguously as we drove around the block.

She sat hunched over and winced from time to time when the gig bounced on potholes. The road closer to the station turned out to be completely broken.

“Eshsheri Blackrock, I will have to report to the Ashsheri director about your prank,” Bathmore suddenly said and unexpectedly added: “But you’ve done well.” I don’t know how it all would have ended otherwise.

“Thank you,” I thanked him for the praise and pulled the pendant from my neck.

His hands were shaking like a never-dry drunk. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and the taste of iron appeared in his mouth. It seems that not everything is so simple with this artifact. A full mask sucked out magic faster than maintaining an air funnel, and yet my potential is not below average! No wonder Grymza talked about warts and wrinkles. From now on, you should be careful and not use complete images of other people, only small details.

– So, you’re not an old lady! – the northern woman was sincerely surprised.

She even straightened up, but immediately bent over again, wincing in pain.

I smiled welcomingly, looking at my new acquaintance, and answered:

– No. I am just a future adept at the Academy of Wind and Storms. So that's where you're headed?

The girl Batmore and I picked off along the way was called Adalbjorg Hedvin. She was the only daughter of the northern jarl of the Coast of Iron Blades.

“I know our names sound unusual in these lands, but you can call me Ada.” I am in your debt, Mirre.

– Stop doing that. Any person would try to help in my place,” I was embarrassed.

The new acquaintance sat unevenly, leaning on one side, as if she could not fully straighten her back. She winced every now and then, clearly in pain, and I tried to turn the conversation to what was really important now: “No, Mirre!” Not just anyone. Only a very brave person with a caring heart would risk speaking out against six elemental magicians who are not burdened with either reason or conscience,” the northern woman objected, which embarrassed me.