(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

"Kinda puts a whole new spin on the phrase 'earning your money on your
back,' eh, chief?"
"Shut up, you two."
Chapter 73
I wrinkled my nose at the acrid smell of burnt metal and ozone. The Mage's
training room was perhaps half-full, with apprentices and magelings
fumbling at their incantations. They tossed flickering missles at a charred,
metal-lined wall, and those that didn't fizzle out splashed against the target
with a sad, broken sputter. No one seemed to know what they were doing...
it was like stepping into a gymnasium full of fat men attempting calisthenics.
One young lady, however, was neat and primly dressed. Her hair was tied
back and the sharpness in her eyes and the purse of her painted lips made it
clear she one of the few who knew what she was doing. She carried a sheaf
of papers and unwound scrolls, and occasionally paused to look through
them and read portions of what was written aloud, practicing elaborate
hand-motions as she did so. She looked up to me. "Good day, sir. You were
the one at the lecture, were you not?"
"Uh, yes. What is this place?"
"This is where aspiring mages can come to train and study. Many wizards
took their took their first steps in the Art as fledgling sorcerers, here."
I looked around, "Where's the trainer?"
"I do not know where Lady Thorncombe has gone. I would suggest you try
the Sensoriums... she spends much of her time there..." She lowered her
voice, frowning: "Perhaps too much."
Hmmm Thorncombe... I believe Salabesh mentioned her once, in
731