“The hard way,” Abi said dryly, though she was having a hard time getting her head wrapped around the fact that she had just “learned” several of them instantly, not to mention a number of attendant dialects. What the people here spoke, she understood now, was just a dialect, a kind of polyglot of Valdemaran and whatever they spoke farther south.

“Did—did we just—” Poor Beyrn was still trying to come to grips with what had just happened. “How can—that’s not—”

“It happened, so it’s obviously possible.” Padrick had recovered from his shock completely. “Thank you, magician. Whatever your name is.”

“It’s Steen,” said Jicks. “He used to be with us, the Harriers, until he decided to strike out on his own here.”

“That’s because I was about as useful as teats on a bull with the Harriers, Jicks,” Steen chided. “Lots of practical, simple spells, but damn-all combat magic. Hellfires, a hedge-wizard would have been more use than me; he might have had some healing spells.”

“Well, your heart wasn’t in it,” Jicks told him in a kindly tone of voice.

“If that was a ‘practical, simple spell,’ I wouldn’t like to see combat magic,” Beyrn blurted, voice shaking.

Vance reached across Abi and patted the younger Master on the shoulder, as if trying to comfort him. “And we won’t. It’s all right, Beyrn, this is not all that different from Mind-magic.”

“You’re not likely to find a powerful Mage able to do heavy combat magic out here among the likes of us, anyway” Steen told the younger Master. “First of all, they’re rare, and second of all, they go to where they can command gold for their services, and lots of it.” He laughed. “I don’t think there’s ten gold pieces in this entire village. Mostly I do mind tricks like the one I just did on you, help find lost things, and work with water. My single most powerful spell is a parlor trick that makes me popular in the summertime.” He leaned back and called toward the back of the house. “Aubryana! Mint tea for my guests.”

The serving woman appeared with a tray full of glasses of pale green liquid. Steen muttered a few words and made a couple of gestures, and the glasses suddenly frosted over. “Here you are, my friends,” he said, handing the glasses out. “Just what you need on a hot summer day.”

Abi’s glass, when she took it, was so cold that it misted when she breathed on it.

“I can make lots of ice for gatherings,” he said, and shrugged. “But unless an army happens to be standing knee deep in still water, it’s not exactly a useful trick for combat.”

“Remarkable!” marveled Vance, as he sipped the ice-cold drink.