The Mages of Royas Bay (Mages of Wrystan 1)

Chapter 7: Faron

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DESPITE THE AMOUNT of food the innkeeper's wife had brought in, it didn't take long for Hawk's party to finish. Especially when they had two knights and a squire happy to take second helpings in order to help. Having moved to stand before the fire, the better to view the three youngsters and the witch, Rylan Faron could only shake his head in rueful admiration.

Catching his eye, Sir Tobias guiltily swallowed a mouthful of beautifully roasted rabbit. "We're growing boys," he said, rather defensively.

Faron smiled. Since the knight was more than thirty, the only way he was growing these days was outwards. At least he would be if he weren't so infernally active. By most people's reckoning Harble was a three-day ride from Royas Bay. That wretched knight had made Faron reach it in two. In the rain. Was it any wonder he preferred to stand? He hadn't ridden so far or so fast for over ten years. His body was not grateful.

While everyone else devoured apple and blackberry tarts, Faron ruffled the feathers on his barn owl's head and studied the three young mages. Hawk he already knew, having seen much of the young healer over his first year at the mage school. At thirteen he'd been a late entrant, but his magic was already so well controlled and strong that no one had noticed any lack in him.

A quiet, self-contained boy, with a level head and an undeniable air of command, his years as a page had done him the world of good. Faron wasn't the only one who expected big things of him in the future.

Beside him sat Lady Sidony. Small though she was, Faron could feel the pulse of her magic halfway across the room. He'd felt it from a whole lot further away eight days ago, which was what had launched him on this harebrained chase in the first place. The strength and power of her didn't surprise him – the Roscoe line tended to produce staggeringly explosive mages every couple of generations or so – but the fact that her magic had woken on its own did.

His eyes flickered down the table to the subdued woman seated at the far end – as far away from him as possible. Although there was little light in her dark eyes, he was reminded of a phrase he'd heard often over the years: witches were born, mages were made. A witch's power was mostly instinctive, while a mage had to be taught how to access the light within them and how best to use it.

So what had woken Sidony's magic at such a moment? His gaze fastened on the last and most intriguing of the children. Scrawny but taller the Hawk – although Faron estimated he was a couple of years younger – Azarien had a pinched face and wide, fearful eyes. He frequently touched the pine marten wrapped around his neck, seeking reassurance, and kept glancing at Hawk, as though reminding himself the boy was still there.

Then there was his power. To Faron's magical senses it was barely there, yet there was something niggling about it. A constant hum that wasn't a noise and wasn't quite a feeling, just a presence that surrounded the boy and whispered of strange things.

"But then I've always had a fanciful imagination, eh, girl?" he murmured to the barn owl on his shoulder. Ira nibbled gently on his stroking finger and he smiled.

Plates and cutlery were being pushed away at the table and he thought it time to step away from his shadowy corner. "If you're finished," he said, addressing everyone, "perhaps you might like to retire to the taproom. The musicians tonight are very good."

A pointed glance at Sir Gedrey had the man nudging his squire and between them they managed to herd the guardsmen from the room. The children didn't move, but Faron hadn't expected them to. Two were too curious to let him out of their sight, while the other was too scared to leave them. The witch didn't go either, which he found surprising. He raised his eyebrows at Tobias.