Scent of Magic. Maria Snyder V.

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Noelle’s eyebrows puckered as she frowned. “General Jael is not a patient woman, Sergeant.”

      Was there a hint of fear in her eyes? Instantly concerned, I stepped from my hiding spot.

      She rounded on me and I froze. That was stupid.

      “Where is Ursan?” she demanded.

      “He’s on his way.” I pitched my voice lower than normal.

      “Good.”

      “Why does the general wish to see him?” I asked.

      “That’s none of your business, Sergeant,” she snapped, then ignored me.

      I should have been happy she didn’t recognize me. Noelle was supposed to believe I was missing and presumed dead. Yet, I couldn’t stop the disappointment and pain from spreading. My little sister had changed so much over the past three years. At age ten, Noelle had cared for our mother and Allyn while they died from the plague, leaving her all alone for the first time in her life. So I shouldn’t have been surprised by her behavior when I’d tried to rescue her from Estrid’s training camp five months ago.

      Ursan arrived and they left. I debated following them. Jael probably wanted more information about his scouting mission. Plus I doubted I could get close enough to the tent to overhear anything important. I returned to my group.

      That night around the sergeant’s fire, I tried to act casual as I inquired about the summons. “Did the general congratulate you on your successful mission?” I asked Ursan. He had been unusually quiet, letting Odd do all the talking while Saul listened as usual.

      “No.” Ursan cleaned his leather scabbard with saddle soap.

      “What did she want?” Odd asked.

      Ursan glanced at me for a second before he said, “Intel on the enemy patrols we encountered. Locations, numbers, that sort of thing.”

      “Why not get all that from the major?” Odd asked.

      Ursan shrugged. “Don’t know.”

      “What did she think about that armor you found?”

      “How do you know?” Ursan glanced at Odd with a neutral expression, but the muscles in his arms tensed.

      I sensed trouble, but kept my mouth shut.

      Odd grinned. “The question should be who doesn’t know. Come on, Ursan, you know nothing in this camp stays a secret for long. Plus, it’s no surprise Tohon would want to protect his troops. Just seems strange for him to be manufacturing new equipment when there’s a ton of stuff lying around.”

      “Oh, yeah, it’s everywhere. Just the other day I tripped over a shield,” Saul teased.

      “I meant each realm had at least one armory.” Odd’s tone bordered on huffy. “Before the plague there were thousands of soldiers in each realm. The dead don’t need armor.”

      I choked on my tea. Ursan glared at me, but soon the conversation turned to other safer topics. All along I wondered what the general had really inquired about.

      When it grew late, we headed toward our tents. I pulled Ursan aside and asked him.

      “I’m not surprised that you’re concerned,” he said.

      “You didn’t answer my question.”

      He considered. “She’s been hearing good things about our training. You know what that means, don’t you?”

      Unfortunately. “She wants to know more about me.”

      “Yep.”

      “What did you tell her?”

      “The truth.”

      I suppressed my fear. Jael knew no other healers had survived the panic during the plague. And the last time I’d seen Jael, she had tried to kill me. I’d buried two of my throwing knives into her in self-defense. One into her upper arm and the other in her thigh. She wasn’t the type to forgive and forget. And without Kerrick’s help, a second attempt to kill me would no doubt succeed.

      “The whole truth?” I asked.

      Ursan studied my expression. “No. I left out the healer part.”

      “Thanks.”

      “I didn’t do it for you.”

      Uh-oh. Blackmail time. I waited.

      “I did it for us.” He swept a hand out, indicating the tents, campfires and soldiers. “Right now, we need this training. So I’m being selfish.”

      “Will you let me know when you decide to stop being selfish?”

      “I can tell you right now when I’ll stop. Do you want to know?”

      “Go on.” I braced for his answer.

      “When we move from skirmishes to full-out war. Casualties will unfortunately be much higher and more serious than the sprained ankles and cuts suffered out on patrols.”

      “Fair enough.” And another reminder that my time was limited. I needed to talk to Noelle and find Melina.

      On my next day off, I walked into Zabin to buy a few needed items. It had been fifty long days since Kerrick and I parted. I calculated the time it would take for him to reach Ryne’s castle. Then added the approximate days Ryne would need to assemble his elite troops, plus the fact that a bigger group would move more slowly, especially when crossing the Nine Mountains.

      My spirits sank. Kerrick and Ryne probably wouldn’t arrive for another week at the earliest and more realistically, not for another two weeks.

      The hustle and bustle of the market helped to take my mind off Kerrick. Dressed in my fatigues, I blended into the crowd, and no one gave me more than a passing glance. Handy.

      I browsed the stalls, purchasing new undergarments and leather ties for my hair. During Liv and Wynn’s last patrol, I had reapplied Mom’s lightening cream and dyed my hair again. Mom’s estimates of how long my disguise would last didn’t quite match for me. My healing powers accounted for the faster recovery.

      After I finished my shopping, I paused in front of the weapons merchant’s table of goods. I hoped it looked as if I hadn’t been planning to stop there. The owner appeared at my elbow. I recognized him from before, but he didn’t show any signs that he remembered me.

      He launched into a sales pitch for each weapon I touched. Under his easy, affable personality, I sensed tension, as if he chose his words with care. It made sense, considering this town was basically occupied territory and his livelihood could be shut down at any time by Estrid or Jael.

      I played along, asking questions about one or another sword or knife. When he mentioned liquid metal, my heart squeezed harder.

      “What’s so special about liquid metal?” I asked, keeping the same noncommittal tone.

      “It’s

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