She slipped inside. The door clicked shut behind her, sealing out the noise of the street.
The shop was dim, lit only by a few lanterns that cast long shadows across shelves crowded with strange objects: bottles of shifting color, bundles of herbs that twitched as if breathing, metal trinkets that hummed faintly. Riley leaned in to study a set of bone dice when a voice startled her.
“We have end of day specials. What are you looking for?”
A man stood behind the counter, half hidden in the gloom.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” Riley said.
“Yes, well, I tend to blend in.” His tone was dry. “As I said, we have interesting items. Are you after enchantments, artifacts, or potions?”
“Portal spells?” She knew after the conversation with Tarin that even asking about such ‘high magic’ would draw attention to her, but this was her shot and she was going to take it.
The man paused, then smiled as though amused. “Portal spells. Yes, I keep those in the back. Would you like one or two?”
“Just one, please.”
His smile vanished. “I don’t sense magic from you. So state your business. I have much to do and no time for games.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m new here… new to magic. I only need some advice. I don’t want to waste your time.” She backed toward the door, hand brushing the knob behind her back. “Tarin said you were the best person to speak with about magic.”
The man’s head lifted. “Tarin sent you?”
Riley nodded.
“Tarin is a friend.” His posture softened. “You must understand, many people waste my time, and sales keep this shop open. Forgive me. My name is Alistair. Alistair Crowe.”
“Well since you’re a friend of Tarin’s, I’ll gladly bring my magic business to you,” Riley said. “For now, I came because I need to know something specific about portal spells.”
Alistair froze midmovement, his expression tightening with quiet scrutiny. “Portal spells? That is not common magic, nor a common question. But I sense there is very little common about you.”
Riley swallowed so hard she was sure the sound carried across the room, but she forced herself to continue. “I want to know if there’s a way to tell whether a portal has been used.”
“Most magic leaves a trace,” Alistair said. “Even to the untrained eye. Casters can stack spells to conceal evidence, but it is difficult to hide everything, especially from someone who knows what to look for. Using magic to detect magic can make it easier but its still not guaranteed.” His gaze sharpened. “Are you a magic user? Trained? Born with any special abilities?”
“No. Well, I don’t think so.”
“No, then…” He studied her for a long, uncomfortable moment. “Without a proper analysis, I can only speak generally. But yes, if no concealment was used, even a commoner might see traces.”
“Like what?” Riley prompted.
“Magic essence. Subtle, shiny flecks. A portal cast at ground level might leave residue on the floor or soil. It fades with time, but powerful portal magic lingers longer.”
“Days? Weeks?” Riley asked.
“Depending on the distance bridged, weeks,” Alistair said.
“Thank you, sir.” Riley hesitated, then added, “I’m short on coin this trip, but I’ll need common magic supplies eventually. Healing potions, or maybe something that can locate resources?”
“Yes. Common enough but hard to keep in stock here.” He gestured to a crate behind him. “I was unpacking a shipment when you arrived. These ore-divining rods are high quality enchantments. They function for a time, then recharge over a day or so.”
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“How much?”
“Fifty gold coins.”
Riley’s shoulders slumped. She reminded herself she didn’t plan to stay long so there no point buying tools she wouldn’t use, whether she had that kind of coin or not.
“Thank you for the information. I’ll return when I have more coin.”
“Of course. Always glad to gain a new regular.” Alistair paused, then added, “One last thing. A person’s relationship with magic, if not taught from birth, can be… elusive.”
“Yes. I understand,” she said, wary of drifting into a discussion she had no real footing in. “I should go before the market closes. Thank you again.”
She slipped out, the door shutting softly behind her.
Alistair watched her through the window for a moment, then muttered to himself, “No… I’m sure you don’t.” And he returned to his work.
***
Riley hurried back toward the main street, boots striking the packed dirt as she angled for the market.
“Losing daylight,” she muttered under her breath.
She slipped into the market square with one hand on her coin pouch, eyes scanning the rows of stalls. Zelgra was easy to spot, towering over the ore table, locked in what looked like a fierce negotiation. Riley moved past her, weaving between shoppers until she reached the leatherworker’s stall, then the metal wares, then wool. She already had a waterskin from the raiders’ loot, and after some firm haggling she managed to secure most of what she needed.
A few more tables and coins later, she had what she needed:
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Leather backpack
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Soap
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Spoon
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Wooden tea mug
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Oversized wool blanket
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Metal cooking pot
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Seven days of real-food rations
Everything was bundled and ready for travel.
With her purchases stowed, Riley made her way back toward the ore tables just as Zelgra finished a transaction.
“Riley!” Zelgra’s booming voice carried across the market.
“Zelgra!” Riley called back, smiling.
“How was the road? Back for more ore already?” Zelgra asked.
Riley hesitated, then shook her head. “No ore this time. But I couldn’t leave Rivermark without buying you an ale.”
Zelgra squinted one eye, studying her. “An ale, you say?”
“Yes. To repay your kindness.”
That earned her a grin that revealed wide, uneven teeth in desperate need of a good scrubbing. Zelgra signaled to the other ore merchants that she was stepping away, then fell into stride beside Riley as they headed toward the nearest tavern.
Inside, the place was dim and mostly empty. They were evidently too early for the evening rush that probably followed the market’s close. Zelgra raised two fingers to the barkeep for ales, and the pair settled at a small table tucked away from the door.
A brief, awkward silence stretched between them before Riley finally spoke. “I wanted to thank you. Truly. When we met… I wasn’t in a good place. And after everything that happened, your help meant more than you know.”
Zelgra’s hard expression softened, just a fraction. She didn’t seem to know what to say. The barkeep arrived with their drinks, breaking the moment.
“So,” Zelgra said at last, seizing the safer topic, “how did your upgrade go? Did the ore perform the way you hoped?”
“Great, actually. I’d be back for more right now, but I need to travel north first.”
“North?” Zelgra cut in sharply. “Riley, the north isn’t safe these days. We’ve been getting ore from the mountain up there, and the reports coming with it aren’t good.”
“How far north? What kind of reports?” Riley asked, trying to sound casual.
Zelgra gave her a long look. “The main threat up there as you know, is the Clawborn Dynasty. Their sigil is—”
“Three red claw marks,” Riley said quietly.
The answer seemed to confirm Zelgra’s assumption that she already knew this, though in truth it was nothing more than a lucky guess, one drawn from their name and the cold twist in her stomach at the thought of giving the assailants who had chased her on her first day a real identity instead of leaving them as faceless nightmares.
“I’ve seen their sigil more than once.”
“Well, be lucky you weren’t on the receiving end of it. Most people don’t survive that.”
Zelgra’s casual warning hit Riley like a blow, and whatever panic flashed across her face must have been obvious, because Zelgra’s merchant instincts snapped to attention.
“Riley. You weren’t marked, were you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe. There were claw marks on my door.”
Now Zelgra seemed worried. “Riley, that’s a death mark. Or a war mark. You’re in real danger. The Dynasty rules the north with no mercy. If not for Grey Ridge holding the boundary, the south would already be under their heel. And lately that boundary has been strained. Lawlessness is rising and that’s usually a sign that the ruling class is testing their reach. Ore merchants track these things closely; it affects our trade. If you’ve been marked, you need to stay in the south. You need to go home. Where do you live?”
“About a day’s walk…”
“North,” Zelgra finished grimly.
Riley didn’t try to conceal it. She just sat there, the weight of it all settling over her as she connected the dots. Everything she needed, her home, her answers, lay to the north.
“Look,” Riley said, trying to reassure herself, “I don’t have to go much farther north than where I already am. And I’ll be back because I need more ore to level up.”
“Wait, what?” Zelgra blinked. “You need to level up? I thought the ore was for your master to upgrade a structure. You used it to level up a structure yourself?”
“Well… yes. You said leveling up was common.”
“I said leveling up buildings was common. I never said the people who can actually do it were.”
Zelgra leaned in, eyes narrowing.
“Riley… are you a mage?”