Coll lifted a hand in greeting as he headed into the magic lab, then used it to pull a cloth from his bag and dab at his face. The day’s warmth had become oppressive. A shaggy haired blond looked up and gave a half-nod to acknowledge the greeting, but had bent back over his table the moment he realized that the visitor wasn’t for him. Each magician never worked with more than five agents so they could keep each man’s personal abilities and skills straight.
Coll’s magician was Julian, who hadn’t yet looked up.
“Hail, Julian, what do you have for me?” He called loudly, not moving from his place at the door in an effort to keep out of the line of fire.
The other man remained bent over his table. The goggles and helmet obscured most of his head as he poured chemicals slowly from one beaker to another. That and his padded jacket and thick leather gloves were reason enough for Coll to stay where he was until Julian acknowledged him.
However long that took.
He dropped back against the door and sighed. He had been in a hurry, but no one hurried the magicians. Instead he practiced his phonemes and his accent. He hadn’t been to Skyhall in years. Rescuing the missing Lady Dalstaff would be hard enough without giving himself away by fully pronouncing his ‘r’s.
His quiet practice was interrupted by a loud bang and a gale-force wind that slammed him halfway through the solid wood door.
When he picked himself back up, Julian grinned up at him over blackened leather protective gear. “I guess that one won’t be ready for you.”
“Probably too loud anyway. Remember the goal? In and out without being seen?” Coll’s back already felt like a huge bruise. That would not make the day’s ride easier. He sighed. Sometimes the magicians got so distracted with the fascination of magic they forgot the purpose of their charges. “What do we have?”
