mage. Not high enough to be sorcerer or a Grandmaster, but on rank with a master mage. He’s got no less than three mages serving under him at a time, and most of them are craftmages.”
Angelique stared at the spot Elle tapped—a dot marked in northern Loire—before she finally realized what Elle had said. “Rogue craftmages?”
“Not rogue.” Stil stood up and joined the trio at the desk. “Chosen-trained—they never set foot inside Luxi-Domus.”
Quinn frowned. “How can they be craftmages without the proper schooling?”
“The same way many of these black mages learned—from records, documents, and previous members of the Chosen, I imagine,” Angelique said.
Stil nodded. “There’re a bunch of craftmage texts—it wouldn’t be hard to procure copies.”
Angelique slowly nodded. “If so many craftmages are present, I imagine they’re making something at this stronghold?”
“Exactly. They’re manufacturing all manner of charms that get distributed to various Chosen members.”
Quinn whistled. “This is big.”
“It is,” Angelique agreed. “We’ve found shops before, but not any suppliers. Are you sure it’s fine for me to go in first? I could ruin it all.”
Elle shrugged. “Then we’ll just find another stronghold.”
Angelique stared at the map, unable to articulate just how much it all meant to her.
They listened. Before I left for Sole, I told them I wanted to find Evariste, and unlike the Veneno Conclave, they listened!
“Of course, we’re hoping you could infiltrate the place, get the information, and leave with the Chosen none the wiser,” Elle continued. “But the important thing is getting information on Evariste. Severin instructed me to give you whatever you need to accomplish this—money, charms, I could guide you—”
Stil had been nodding sagely at her words, but he frowned with her last offer. “He didn’t say that.”
“He didn’t say it with words, but I felt it in his heart,” Elle smoothly said. “If Angelique says she needs me, Severin would not refuse her!”
Stil shrugged. “I’ll whip some charms up for you, Angel,” he offered. “Shouldn’t take me more than a week.”
“I think you should take some starfire crystals, too,” Gemma said. “Quite a lot of them—in case you encounter hellhounds.”
Angelique started to shake her head. “I’ll gladly take the starfires, but waiting a week for the charms is too long—”
Quinn subtly shifted, making Angelique glance at her. The blonde-haired soldier offered her a nod. “We will need time to prepare and make our plans,” she reminded her.
Angelique flicked her eyes to the marked spot on the map, then exhaled. “You’re right. I’m just paranoid. I can’t shake the feeling that if we don’t move fast enough, they may close up shop.”
Elle made a noise of dissent in the back of her throat. “I can understand your fear. However, it was a ranger who discovered this workshop—not a mage. The Chosen won’t have even the faintest idea they’ve been discovered. Besides, this stronghold has been around for at least a decade based on the supply chain. It’s not temporary, so they’re not going to suddenly flee into the night.”
“Right. Very well.” Angelique bit her lip. “We’re not going to tell any other mages, are we?”
“Not yet,” Stil said.
“Not until you find what you need,” Gemma added.
“Yes, it’s just sheer coincidence we’ve forgotten to tell our allies. Silly me!” Elle’s tinkling laugh made a shard of a smile return to Angelique. “But speaking of our allies, the craftmages have finished another batch of magic mirrors, and I have one for you.”
Angelique blinked in surprise. “Me?”
“Indeed!” Elle stepped away from the crowded desk and approached a wooden crate set by the door. “Let me see if I can find yours.”
“It’s the one with the silver ribbon around it,” Stil called. “No, not that porcelain one—the mirror part is more oval shaped, and it’s set in silver.”
“Aha! It’s this one, isn’t it?” Elle plucked a small hand mirror set in silver, decorated with fancy fleurs that gave the mirror an air of sophistication.
“Yep, that would be it.” Stil smugly puffed up his chest. “I specially charmed this one for you, Angel.”
“Thank you?” Angelique reluctantly took the mirror, the soft ribbon that was looped through a hole punched through the base of the handle caressed her knuckles as it draped over her hands. “But I’m not sure I should take it. No one will be able to contact me. Ever since Evariste was taken, I’ve shielded my presence from most tracking and spying spells, including the ones magic mirrors use to establish contact.”
“Yes, but that won’t affect any messages you try to send,” Stil said.
“And that’s our main