First Apprentice

Chapter 32 Part 3

"A distraction," Philip whispered, "but not for long. Sanctions may appease the clans, but not Amit."

"Answer me honestly. Can you survive winter up here? Not just survive, thrive."

I nibbled my bottom lip. I cocked my head toward Kevin, the true determiner of whether we'd survive the next month without me accidentally poisoning them in my sleep. "Kevin?"

"Barring any disasters, the dining hall should be finished tomorrow afternoon. We have four waste vanishing commodes finished, six wash basins, and space set aside for baths."

So we had dry, heated space large enough to afford everyone some breathing room and basic sanitation. Promising. "Philip?"

Philip squared his shoulder and clasped his hands behind his back as if he were delivering a formal report. "By current estimates, we have a three months food supply locked inside storage seals and under stasis. I took delivery of clothing today. We may look like lumberjacks, but we won't freeze. The Daneian Swordsmith Guild needs delivery coordinates. I wasn't sure if you wanted them delivered here or to Vinetta."

"Here," I replied after a second's thought. "Give them the coordinates for our nearest summon site. Someone will meet them there. Clothing, did you get everything on the list?"

"Except fighting stays. I put a rush on the order. The corsetmaker should have them finished by next week. Snowshoes and ice creepers should be here by week's end."

"Mei?"

Cherry red hatch marks appeared in her aura like bubbles floating to the surface of a pond. Dust eddied around her fingers as she bared her fangs at Terry then turned to me. The tawny fur dotting her hands shimmered then disappeared as she regained control of her form. Face impassive, she examined me, eyes lingering on the marker between my eyes before checking the other three.

"My patients are stable and recovering," she said evenly. "The infirmary's functional. My ritual chamber is a work of art. None of which," her tone turned frigid, "means you should entertain his insanity. Skeleton Ridge with twelve Dracons in winter, are you mad?" she asked Terry. "Only one in fifty Dracon are ice types. One in two hundred aes. Fire types do not handle cold well. Their bodies and magic simply aren't made for it. Even with warm clothing, shelter, and decent food, you're setting them up for pneumonia or worse. As their healer, I strongly discourage —"

Terry held up a hand. "I understand the risks and will trust your judgment. Monitor their condition. If their health begins deteriorating, contact me immediately, and I'll relocate them. At this time, I do not believe all parties involved in this debacle acted in concert. However, I cannot rule out the possibility. That I wasn't aware of the supply issues suggests we're compromised beyond Sabine's treachery. Hiding something like this from me is fairly easy," he said with a shrug, "because I must rely on my staff to pass on what information I need to know. Compromise the right people, and it's easy to keep me out of the loop. Hiding it from myself, Joel, and both our guardian administrators is a different matter. That requires someone high up and trusted implicitly. Add in Mitra's questionable decisions regarding candidate training, and we may have bigger problems than unstable gates."

The Summoner's Well, I realized with a sinking feeling. It all came back to the fifty man limit Endellion and Rainer placed on the gates. Without the limit, the clans could move their armies anywhere they wished whenever they wished. With it, moving more than fifty people per summon required using the Well.

For years I listened as Grandfather prattled on about the Seven's amulets and how their ability to reach across the gates and call for help had turned the tide of battle while Endellion looked on with a secretive smile on her face. Two days after Joel hung an amulet around my neck, I finally understood her smile. Hidden underneath the telepathic seals was a blood key tied to the Well itself. So long as the lock remained undamaged, only those keyed in by a made chief could move armies through the Well. In other words, the Seven and their apprentices.

"Please tell me the Well's connection with the gates is damaged," I whispered.

"It's more like we can't close it," Terry replied.

Which meant the blood keys were the only thing standing between the clan armies and us. I closed my eyes in horror.

"I see you understand. Without the Well, we can't move the armies or even a sealer legion, which puts Luis and Rena's candidates as the first and likely only response. Not yours," he added firmly. "Unless one of your gates or the Well itself is attacked, your first and only priority is your gates. I prefer having you nearby, but out of sight. If you can handle it, it's best you stay up here."

After getting a nod from each of my team leaders, I looked Terry in the eye. "We can."

Author's Note: And thus ends Book 1 of the Iver Saga. Thank you for joining me on this journey. I hope I've entertained you a little. (Okay, I hope you didn't keep reading out of pity or because you wanted to see if it could get worse.) Please support my work by leaving a comment or hitting the star button. Sharing First Apprentice with your friends would totally make my week.

Anyhow, Book 2 is in progress. I'll post a preview chapter sometime next week.

Yes, Book 2 is still nameless. Naming takes creativity. I sold mine for a cup of coffee.