Efrain watched as the man righted himself, placed the tray down carefully on the edge of the desk, and sank back into the chair.

“What?” he said, eyes huge behind the spectacles.

“The name - Assyeria,” said Efrain, sliding the tray back from its precarious position, “though it seems like you’ve heard it before.”

The man sat in silence before lacing his fingers together and setting his wobbling chin.

“We were having a discussion, back in the boat,” he said, “do you recall? About the Eisen?”

Efrain thought back, his fingers drumming on the desk.

“You said that they were having trouble with succession because… the direct heir had left the city.”

His mind flashed back to the woman in the village, probably entering her forties, having a daughter in that time. The formal handshake, her knowledge of the culture of the city, her usage of the Kirakosian language.

“Well,” Efrain said, “that’s unfortunate. Assyeria Eisen. She neglected that detail when I spoke to her.”

“We must tell the matriarch at once,” said the mentor, rising, “I’ll call for the poleman.”

“No, no, wait,” Efrain said, “sit back down. Let’s not be hasty.”

“The matriarch must be informed, master Efrain,” he said.

Efrain’s mind was a blur, computing all the possible ways this could go wrong. The answer was multi-fold and each option was more dire than the last.

“And she will,” Efrain said, hoping that he would not come to regret those words, “but we mustn't be hasty. The matriarch must be a busy woman, and the whole city’s alive with festivals, not to mention the quarrel between the houses right now. Adding a long lost heir to the mix would be a recipe for chaos. Finger pointing. Maybe even swords getting drawn.”

“All the same, master,” said the man, visibly sweating, “she must be told. To conceal news of a direct successor’s presence would be most unwise. We might even take part of the blame if we knew and didn’t come forward.”

“I understand your concern,” Efrain said, getting up, “but I think we’re in no rush and make everything worse. Call the poleman.”

The man acquiesced and ran out of the office, forgetting the tea behind him. Efrain was pacing in the open spaces as he tried to derive some strategy that he could work from. He questioned too late whether the man would simply go to the Eisen and tell them everything. Would Aya let something slip to her hosts? It might be only a matter of time.

He looked mournfully at the notes in front of him, then straightened himself and went out to the hallway. It didn’t take him long to find the academy docks, where a poleman was waiting and ready beside the mentor. Efrain held up a hand as the mentor attempted to step down beside him.

“This might be best handled alone,” Efrain said, “I’ll try to get back as soon as possible. If I don’t send a message by midday, go to the Eisen and tell them everything. How’s that for leverage?”

“My dear master,” scoffed the mentor, “as if I would suspect you of trying to cut and run.”

Efrain looked at the bespectacled man, and was shocked to see that he completely meant it. A fool perhaps, but an honest fool, and honesty was something Efrain could at least appreciate. He was supplied an academy’s faculty badge for gate passage, and sent on his way.

“Where to, mentor?” said the polemen, inclining their heads.

Efrain thought for a moment before settling on his only real option.

“The home of Amicio Bramste,” he said, settling in.

The streets were dead silent at this time of night, save for the occasional patrol. They made their way quickly, but by a longer route, due to the major canals being closed for the Festival. Finally, he hopped out onto the stairs leading up to the Bramste pyramid - a double towered monstrosity of orange-pink banners.

“Is commander Naia in?” Efrain said to one of the guards at the door, “Do send for him. Tell him Efrain’s here, and that it’s urgent.”

Five minutes later, Naia was standing out in the warm night. The commander had changed into the silken robes of the Karkosian elite. It suited him, though it was strange to see him without steel or well worn leather.

“What is it?” he said, “what’s happened?”

“We need to speak, privately,” Efrain said, gesturing around.

“Ah,” he said, turning to one of the guardsmen, “inform trader Amicio that a minor issue has come up with my men, but does require my attention. Tell him my regret for missing dessert is only eclipsed by that of missing his conversation.”

The guardsman responded with a blank affirmation, clearly used to such flattering messages.

“We’d best find somewhere else. Poleman, take us to the northern outflow,” he said.

They came to a section of the city that opened out onto a series of docks and piers built on top of the shallow sandbars of the northeast lagoon. Naia made for the poleman to step off on one of them and struck out some ways into the open water.

“There,” he said, “nothing but marsh serpents and old wood to listen. What is it?”

“Aya’s been revealed,” Efrain said, watching the man’s face carefully.

The commander was an experienced liar, there was no doubt of that. To most passive observers, the settling into confusion, the mouth opening to proclaim the complete lack of knowledge, that would’ve been enough. But Efrain noticed the blank expression that lay between the concern and confusion, as well as the tightening of the jaw.

“So you did know,” Efrain said, “don’t try to deny it.”

The man stopped mid protest, and pushed his long hair back as he sighed.

“I suspected. What did you base your bluff on?”

“It’s not a bluff. She has been revealed, by only one person that I know of, for now,” Efrain said, “as for your question. You’re younger than her mother, by what, ten years? You speak Karkosian fluently. Aya is how old herself? It was enough to put together a stab at a timeline.”

“More of a stab in the dark than anything else,” Naia said quietly.

“Either way, even if you didn’t know, it wouldn’t change the outcome much,” Efrain shrugged, acknowledging his tenuous deductions.

“Revealed by who?” he said.

“The academy master figured it out,” Efrain said, “I’ve managed to convince him to keep quiet, but he’ll go before long.”

“How long?” he said.

“I said he should go by midday if he hadn’t heard from me,” Efrain said, “ I gave him concrete time to hold onto, rather than a vague ‘when it happens’.”

“Couldn’t even give him a full day?” Naia groaned, leaning back and looking up at the starry sky, “this is why I told Lillian to keep it quiet. It was already fraught enough. Now I’m suddenly the least important person.”

“I could not have put that in a less egotistical way if I tried,” Efrain retorted.

Naia rolled his eyes as he sat forward, his expression gaining a new intensity.

“You know what I mean. I have much less room now.”

“So what are we going to do then?”

“No one else knows? The mentor’s not going to tell anyone?”

“Unless they’ve managed to put it together, I don’t think so. And no, I doubt it. He seems terrified already, I doubt he’d simply lose the information instead of going to the Eisen directly.”

“So you trust him to wait till midday?” Naia said, thumbing his beard.

“Surprisingly, yes,” Efrain said, “so, what are we going to do?”

“What do you think I should do?” Naia said, “It sounds like you might be responsible for this in the first place.”

Efrain ignored the correct conclusion that the man had drawn, and thought about it.

“Prayer for forgiveness,” Efrain said, “own up to it. Say we had no idea, and that we’re happy for her to join her family.”

“You’re joking,” Naia said.

“She’s the direct heir to the Eisen family, and it sounds like there’s been a row over succession for a while now,” Efrain said, “sounds also like her grandmother, the matriarch, if you recall, has been looking forwards to meeting her grandchild. If she’s able to prove her identity, you think they’re not going to snatch her up? The head of the family gets her grandchild, and succession is put to rest.”

“I think you forget, the goal is to bring her to Angorrah’s side,” Naia said, “meaning, in Angorrah.”

“Really?” Efrain said, “and your plan to spirit her away? Let’s assume, for the sake of you, that the mentor’s the only one who knows. So we have until midday, unless of course, you kill him.”

“Perish the thought,” Naia said, offended at the prospect, “I’d not consider that.”

“It’s an option,” Efrain said, “but the mentor suddenly dying and foreign soldiers taking sudden flight? And how long would it take to rouse and organise the men for travel? How much stores do you have? Either way, it spells the same thing - you have only so long before they get suspicious.”

Naia blinked at the outflow of analysis.

“Kill the mentor, they send the soldiers after us for murder,” Efrain continued, “Let him leave, they send soldiers out for kidnapping a descendant of the matriarch, who we kept knowingly hidden. You really think you can outrun an army that controls the coast, is well rested and supplied, and knows the land better than you?”

“You could’ve been a tactician,” he said, “I concede. We cannot outrun this problem as we are now. We have to face it full on.”

“Hence,” Efrain said, “we go straight to the Matriarch, get ahead of any questions of whether we were to keep her hidden or not. Our mistake. And!”

Efrain gestured back towards the city.

“You still get something out of it.”

Naia thought for a moment, then smiled.

“Even if I don’t bring her to my side, I’ve still returned the direct heir to one of the most powerful and richest families in one of the most powerful and richest cities on the coast. That much is worth a commendation at least.”

“Precisely.”

“You’re good, you know that?” Naia said, “some of my mentors would love you.”

“Only some?”

“The rest would probably take your head off for being a mage.”

“Ah.”

“We’d best be back before anyone gets too curious. One or two of my men were getting rather rowdy with drink. Damafelce’s messenger got a little lost, came to you instead, and you came to me. We went to the camp and dealt with it quickly. Got it?”

Efrain nodded, and they took off towards the waiting pier with the poleman. When they returned to the Amicio’s, the guardsmen quickly hailed Naia. The two men took care to walk quickly up the steps.

“I’m getting all kinds of messages tonight,” Naia laughed, trying to set them at ease, “what is it now?”

“There’s a messenger from the Assendra. They also want to see you, commander,” said the guards, gesturing to the front door.

Efrain and Naia shared a look that said ‘already?”

They were ushered into the foyer of the building, where Naia took the red and blue messenger back into a curtained alcove. There was an exchange of quick, panicked words in the Karkosian tongue then the commander came back out.

“Niche sent word,” he said, “Aya’s been taken by the sand-shell legion, with Lillian.”

Efrian refused the urge to swear, though his foot began to tap on the saffron-coloured carpet. Naia gripped his beard so hard, Efrain could’ve sworn that he was about to tear it out.

“Okay,” he said, “here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to the Assendra’s, if only to stop Niche from doing something stupid. I need to find out what happened, and who knows, if anyone. You need to get to the Eisen’s.”

“Me?” Efrain said, sure that this was well more than he’d signed up for, “Why?”

“I assume you have a pass to the old district now? You’ll get there faster than any of my men. If you tell the Eisen I sent you, and you are Aya’s teacher, then you might-”

“And what am I supposed to do or say?”

“Maybe nothing. I’ll be with you as soon as possible.”

“You’re seriously just sending me to a stall?” Efrain said, “who would I explain how I know she’s there?”

“Simple, you were here for the messenger,” Naia said, “now get going before this becomes an even bigger mess.”

He turned toward the opening to the main hall, instantly relaxing into a friendly, tepid state. Efrain strolled to the poleman and instructed him to take him back to the academy. He would need the mentor to vouch for him if he hoped to be taken seriously.

As it turned out, that was fairly easy.

“Yes, yes! Of course,” said the man, his head bobbing so fast, Efrain was afraid he might pull a muscle, “of course. Let’s go off at once.”

The Eisen’s complex was perhaps ten minutes from the academy. The difference in building might be worlds apart. The multi-story, multi-pyramid assembly of different buildings made even Bramste’s double towers look pathetic by comparison. Efrain was certain that the original pyramid was enclosed by at least one block of outer buildings, perhaps even two. The guards at the entrance were dressed in green and gold over steel, armed with steel bidents.

“Declare your business,” they said, stamping the butts of their polearms against the stone.

“Right, well,” Efrain said, getting ahead of the Mentor’s swelling chest, “I am Efrain Belacore. I’ve come to understand that a ward of ours has come into your custody. A student of mine, in fact. Commander Naia has sent me ahead of himself to meet with the matriarch.”

“I-I can attest to his identity,” said his companion, “I am the mentor of the Belacore academy of magic.”

The men looked at eachother, and told him to wait as two of their number were sent inside to consult within. They were ushered inside and quickly led to a side room where cushions and refreshments were set out on a low table. Not long after, under the watchful eyes of a guard, they were approached by an older veiled servant. The mentor gratefully accepted the offer of fresh-poured tea.

Only after a handful of moments after she retreated to the corner, a man dressed in a bright green robe came in. Efrain took his measure, probably a senior member of the family, but not the person he’d hoped for.

“Greetings, friends,” he said, “at least, I certainly hope you are friends. I understand you have some business? Something about your students? Ah, mentor! I didn’t recognize you. It’s been too long.”

Avencia bowed his head to hide a blush as he spoke.

“Yes, too long, master Azia,” he said, “four years, almost to the day.”

“Good, good. You must come have tea with us some time. You know my wife has the most fond memories of your tutelage. But, to business. The guards said you were here about a student.”

The man sighed and passed a hand over his eyes.

“The matriarch isn’t going to be happy, if it’s one of yours,” he said, “you know how busy she is during the Festival time.”

“Actually,” said Efrain, “it was one of my companions. It’s good to meet you, master Azia. I am Efrain Belacore. I am one of Naia’s…”

Efrain paused, even as the man drew back in surprise, trying to figure out the right words. Lieutenant was wrong, servant was too demeaning.

“Friends,” he settled on, “I was sent here because I heard that one of our own was taken by a sand-shell legionnaire. A younger girl named Aya.”

“Really?” said the man, sitting forwards with emphasised surprise, “oh, yes, yes! One of the children. Yes, a mistake, a simple mistake. Mistook her for a youth who was up to no good, out at night at this hour. It happens more than you think, especially around this time.”

He looked pointedly at Avencia, who’s blush grew redder, or at least so it seemed. There was something off about the gaze, which flickered just for a moment.

“Well, in any case, we’ve released her. She’s back with the Kierens. Again, a total mistake, by my son, as much as it shames me. One that you'll happen to know was swiftly punished. Unless there’s anything else, you should go there. We’ll chat with the commander when he comes.”

Again, the pointed look, at the ‘punished’. It wasn’t at Avencia, so who-

The maid, who was right behind the mentor, stood silent, her head bowed in supplication. To be sure, this wasn’t a matter of utmost secrecy, but would they allow a maid to attend this kind of meeting? Well, the guard was also there, so perhaps it was merely a trusted servant.

“I see,” he said, letting his gaze slide off of the woman, “well, if that’s it, we’d best get to it. We’d hate to waste anymore time.”

“Yes. If you see the commander, tell him that we would like to meet him regardless,” said the man with a smile that didn’t entirely reach his eyes.

The pair rose and were escorted out into the hallway. It was when they reached the entrance that Efrain saw the nervous glances of the soldiers. He paused for a moment, turned around, and was certain when he saw the maid, still veiled and demure.

“You know,” he said casually, seeing the impatient smile of his host, “I was quite surprised to learn about our Aya’s heritage.”

It was a risk, certainly, but then again, so was letting Naia waltz into their hands so easily. The mention of a meeting had clinched the idea of a trap in his mind. No one said anything, save for Azia, who was looking tired of the whole ordeal.

“Really? Fascinating, now-”

“It seemed strange her mother wouldn’t have mentioned you, my lady,” Efrain said, offering a half-bow to the servant, “but I feel much family history was glossed over in my brief meeting with your daughter.”

There was a scoff from behind the veil.

“Told you that this horseshit wouldn’t work, Azia.”