arrived back to the inn late last night. Goran awoke and asked me where I had been, but I felt no need to talk to him, much less tell him my doings.

However, today I relented. These skills beg to be used, so I performed for Goran.

The simpler tricks involving fire are easy for me, even with just a little practice. The crux of the trick often just relies on using the right flammable liquid, knowing how it interacts with your skin, and being able to withstand pain without flinching. Everything else Tarrance taught me is a matter of quick hands, distraction, and showmanship.

A flame leaped from the cup of my hand. I danced it over my knuckles, like I once saw a tax man dance coins (it’s actually easier with fire). Then, I flicked the flame onto the table, where a small pool of liquid that I had carefully concealed behind my mug blossomed into flame. I had to laugh at Goran’s shocked expression.

Suddenly, a bucket slammed down onto the table. Water poured over the table and down my leggings.

ogreach! So different from Cannaghdown! Today was the first day of the Winter Fair, and the market bristled with sights and smells to make me forget the river fog that clutched with damp and prickly tendrils. Travelers in colorful clothing, hawkers shouting for attention, the smells of sweat, animals, and sizzling meat. And I even spied a few of the city’s fabled merchant magicians! I had never seen such a thing, wizened men haggling in their mystic tongue of coin, influencing the bargain, protecting their clients, and weaving the contract of a sale. Or at least so I imagined.

But all these things paled before what I saw next: a street conjurer.

The man was big, almost as big as Goran. His bald head shined. His eyes suddenly widened, and then his mouth formed an “O.” He twirled a baton spouting a rose of flame. He paused the the flame before his mouth, and Whoosh! A flame of red and green blasted forth. And then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

I was enthralled. I watched him for what seemed to be hours, but was surely only minutes. This was not magic, but it was amazing in its own right.

I threw three pennies in the man’s shoes, one for each of the tricks I particularly liked.

I motioning with my hands and said, “How did you do that?”

he men-at-arms from the mine were good enough to accompany us to Fogreach. I still ache badly.

Ivar and I bid the men-at-arms farewell, then supported each other as I sought out the drapers’ quarter. (But I think Ivar is still angry with me for he speaks not at all.) There is a little alehouse squeezed in between the larger houses. I stumbled through the door and called out for Breanna.

“She’s gone away.” The light was dim, but a short woman eyed us sharply. “And I’ll not have drunks falling around the room, neither.”

I was taken aback, and I may have stammered for a moment or two.

“Don’t just stand there, thick-wit,” the woman snapped. “Either go yammer in someone else’s door, or lay your money on the counter. Half-a-penny for a jug of the city’s finest.”

Alas. Breanna has returned to her village (I learned later). I remember fondly how she used to mother her favorite customers. This alewife is quite shrewy. Still, Ivar and I were able to get a bed, which we share with others.

Some years ago, I apprenticed in Fogreach for a few years. In the evening I saw the other apprentice with me during my time here. He is a journeyman now and has married one of our master’s daughters. They have two children already.

Tomorrow we will try to find some travelers to Cannaghdown.