“Come on! We have to hurry!”

Mira called out again from the head of the group, towing Jonah by the hand as she did. Abel followed close behind with a somber look, while Micah lagged back in the rear, and are we really doing this?

He’d seen Abel with that look before. A stern, harrowing frown he only got for one reason. The worst reason. When he was up against things he couldn’t control and didn’t understand. Arbiters were at the top of that list, and the one I really hoped we’d left behind.

He didn’t regret what they’d done. They’d had no other choice. Gad forced them to leave their homes. Forced them to fight back… but look at where they were now.

Even after they’d made it out of their village, after they’d kept Gad out of Jibral, they were still always running from something. He knew they were helping people, but in moments like this he couldn’t help but feel the downside too. One town was saved, but now they were marked for death. Hunted by monsters lurking in the shadows. It would be one thing if he was the only one in danger, but none of them were safe. Not even Ezra. I won’t let anything happen to him, Micah thought to himself. Then he took a breath. If this was a problem he would deal with it, just like he always had.

He would keep Ezra safe.

“Hey!” Abel called, as he nodded back towards Micah.

Right. Let’s do this. Micah quickly caught up to him.

“When we get to this girl’s house let’s be discreet. We don’t want word getting out about two people looking for one of our… friends.” He nearly grimaced at the word. “Especially when we don’t know what we’re dealing with yet.”

He won’t even say ‘arbiter’ in public. “Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I—” then he paused. Hold on— “what do you mean ‘we don’t know?’ You wanted to come here but you don’t think one of our… friends is involved?”

Abel sighed. “I think it’s worth checking—”

Micah almost gawked at that. “You were the one who said they were in the city!”

“I know!” Abel said, “and that’s why it’s worth checking.” Then he groaned and shook his head. “But the truth is stumbling onto a victim like this would be lucky, and it hasn’t really been that kind of day.”

The path ahead curved to the right, and Mira picked up the pace as they passed it. “It’s over here!” She called out, tugging Jonah’s hand again. They briskly made their way through the crowd until they stepped up to one of the houses… if he could even call it that.

The structure was shabby at best. One of dozens of stone and plaster homes sandwiched along either side of the road. Colored tapestries in the windows and on clotheslines overhead did little to make the tight space welcoming. It was barely better than the Coves. Why do we let people live like this?

They stepped inside.

Before them was a modest foyer. Doorways led to each of the other rooms in the house, while two thin rows of wood paneling lined the stone ceiling. A low table sat in the left corner, surrounded by rugs and pillows leaned up on the wall. Four beams formed a square near the center of the room. In between them was a tall, sharp edged fern resting in a large clay pot. Sunlight bathed the center square through glass panels scattered throughout a large tile mosaic above, depicting an Amarian sun. The right wall was bare save for an oval shaped leather shield with another sun on its face and a painting hanging near the end of the room.

Mira let go of Jonah’s hand. “Auntie Basma!” She cried, as she burst into the room.

“Mira?” A woman’s voice called out, then she quickly stepped out from the right doorway. She was a middle aged Amarian woman with soft brown eyes and dark curls growing free in a short afro. Her clothes were worn but clean. A simple white tunic with brown pants and boots to match.

“Mira!” She exclaimed, kneeling down to let the young girl race into her arms. “Where did you go?” Basma asked, then she noticed everyone else as they stepped into the home. “Who are… Traveler Roe?”

“I’m sorry, we don’t mean to intrude,” Jonah said, raising his hands. “Mira found us at the clinic and said her mother needed some help.”

Basma sighed. “Mira, I told you I was getting her help.”

“It’s not working!” Mira said. “Traveler Roe fixed Auntie Inas’ arm before. He— he can help mommy too! He—” she started to cry.

“Oh Mira.” Basma embraced her again, before looking over at the others. “I’m sorry she bothered you,” she said, “but I’m really not supposed to have people over now.”

That’s an odd way to put it, Micah thought, but Jonah had already moved deeper inside.

He came over and knelt down beside Basma, as faint wisps of the mosaic’s light caught the brown of his hair and eyes. He met her gaze. “I don’t know the situation,” he said, “and the last thing I want to do is pry, but we’re already here. Why not let us try to help?”

Basma eyed him for a moment, then she nodded over at Abel and Micah. “Who are they? They’re not Travelers.”

“No,” Abel said. “We’re from the clinic. We overheard Mira talking about her mother, and… we wanted to see if there was something we could do.”

Micah looked over at her and smiled. “We really are just here to help.”

They all exchanged awkward glances for a moment, until Basma finally stood. “All right,” she said. “Mona’s… in the other room. You can have a look at her if you want.” She gripped Mira’s shoulders tight then started to walk back where she came from. “I’ll make some tea.”

Jonah reached out and took Mira’s hand. “Come on, why don’t you tell me all about your mom while we wait?”

Mira smiled and followed Jonah over to the table, while Abel nodded toward Micah, and together they headed toward the other room.

Another cramped stone space greeted them as they stepped inside. Four beds were leaning on the right wall. Two were pressed up on the stone, with nightstands by each bed, while two smaller ones were tucked in the far corner. On the left a crude wooden desk and chair sat by the door. An unassuming set up that only caught his eye because of a small splash of color. Some dainty purple flowers sat in a clay jar, almost shining against the woods monotone hue. The rest of that side was bare save for a painting of a flaming bird before the mountain hanging on the other end of the room.

As they stepped deeper inside Micah could see that only one bed was occupied, but with just a glance he knew, that’s gotta be her.

Mira’s mother, Mona, was lying still in her bed, and had clearly been that way for a while. The nightstand closest to her had a tray of cold stew and untouched flatbread. A weathered tin cup and pitcher sat just beside that, both filled and undisturbed.

Micah stepped up to the bed.

Sweat stains dampened the sheets beneath her frame. Her fawn skin was clammy and flush. Damp coils of brown hair were matted around her face, crowning her glossy brown eyes. Her chapped lips were muttering soft nothings into the air, as her blank gaze went up into the ceiling. Abel came around the other side of the bed and brushed some hair out of her face, before placing his hand on her forehead.

“She has a fever,” he said, then he waved his hand over her eyes. “And she’s clearly not responsive.”

Micah grimaced as he looked her over. “She’s definitely sick,” he said. “The other victims didn’t have fevers though—”

“Look at her eyes,” Abel said. “Those speckles.”

Micah peered into Mona’s eyes and saw spots of violet overtaking their natural brown hue. Oh shit. His stomach dropped. “That’s… that’s what happens after an arbiter’s touch.”

“Maybe,” Abel said, “A Nepis overdose could do it too.”

Micah rolled his eyes at that. “Really?”

Abel let out a sigh. “Nepis is the only thing we know arbiters will risk exposure for—”

“Come on Abel, look at this place! She’s not hoarding Quill Dust!”

Abel gently lifted up the sheets and grabbed Mona’s hand. “Look at her fingertips,” he said, as he held them up.

Micah glanced over and noted the bruising on the ends of some of her fingers, and a few veins around them that were tinged violet.

“That’s a classic sign of repeated, low dose use,” Abel said.

Micah sucked his teeth. “That doesn’t prove anything! Mira said her aunt’s arm was broken. She could’ve just as easily gotten that handling her Nepis cast!

Abel set Mona’s hand back down. “Her hiding a stash of Dust would make sense,” he said. “It’s still not uncommon around here. You know that, and if an arbiter was here they came for a reason—”

“Then let’s find it!” Micah snapped. “But just because she’s Amarian and poor doesn’t mean she’s dusty!” He pointed back to the first room. “Her daughter is right in there! We can do better for her!”

Abel looked over at the room and sighed before meeting Micah’s gaze again. “It doesn’t mean she isn’t either,” he said. “Denying the simplest answer, because of principles, won’t help keep Mira safe.”

You can’t be serious, Micah thought to himself, but Abel grabbed his shoulder and smiled.

“But you’re right,” he said. “We should keep an open mind. Let’s keep looking.”

Micah heard wood creak loudly back in the foyer. Was that the door? He turned toward the noise just as Abel came from around the bed towards the doorway.

“Malachi!” It was Basma, who spoke up just as Abel and Micah walked back in.

Jonah and Mira were sitting on the rugs by the table with steaming clay mugs. Basma was standing nearby greeting an older Amarian man who’d just walked in. Malachi was his name, Micah thought as he looked him over. Actually, I think I’ve seen him before. His clothes were plain, just a white shirt beneath a light brown vest with matching pants and dark boots. He had a shaved head with a red bandana around his forehead and an x-shaped scar on his cheek.

Malachi gave Basma a hug while he eyed the others in the room. “You brought guests?” He asked.

“Not exactly,” Basma said, then she motioned down to Jonah. “You know Traveler Roe, I’m sure.”

Malachi looked over at him. “I do.” Then he nodded over at Abel and Micah. “And who are they?”

“They’re from the clinic,” Basma said. “They—”

“I got them!” Mira said, placing her mug on the table as she stood. “Traveler Roe helps sick people, and mommy’s sick.” Then she shied her gaze away. “I… I thought he could help.”

Malachi continued to stare. This guy does not look happy, Micah thought. He put on a slight grin. But a smile always works.

It didn’t, at least for a little while. After a moment though Malachi went over to Mira and knelt down to meet her eyes, putting on a grin of his own. “You did good,” he said, as he gently held her arm. “Helping people is always good.”

He stood again and looked over at Jonah. “So you’ve seen Mona?”

“Actually no,” Jonah said as he set down his drink. “We just got here a little earlier and I was talking with Mira. She’s wonderfully bright.”

“Yes she is,” Malachi said, before looking back over toward Micah. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Then I suppose you two were the ones tending to her?”

“That’s right,” Abel said. “Though I’m not sure how much tending we did, or really could’ve done. It seems like a bad reaction to Nepis. Most likely from chronic use.”

“That can’t be right,” Basma said, stepping up to the group. “Mona would never—”

“What’s… chronic mean?” Mira asked. “I mean, Nepis heals people right? Like with Auntie Inas?”

The room fell silent at that.

“Oh Mira,” Basma finally said. “It just means mommy was sick.” She beckoned Mira over and kneeled down to meet her gaze. “You’re so smart for knowing about Nepis though! Where did you learn about that?”

“Mommy told me!” Mira said. “I remember everything she says, cause when mommy talks I gotta keep my ears open—”

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“— and you’re mouth shut,” Basma said with a smile, as she pinched Mira’s cheek and made her giggle and laugh. “You always were such a good listener.” She rubbed Mira’s hair, then stood and pulled her close to her side. “I’m sorry,” she said to the group, “but it’s gotta be something else.”

“I’m a little surprised myself,” Jonah cut in. “I’ve spent a lot of time with Mona, and that doesn’t sound like her.“ He started to stand. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

“By all means,” Abel said, as he motioned behind him toward the bedroom’s doorway.

Jonah nodded and made his way out the room.

There was a brief, and… awkward silence after that, until Malachi finally spoke. “So, things haven’t changed since last time, Basma?”

“No,” she said with a somber look filled with long days and sleepless nights. “She’s still the same.”

Malachi paused on that for a moment, giving Abel a stoic glare before turning back to Basma. “Could I have some tea as well?”

She perked up a bit at that, but cleared her throat and nodded. “Of course,” she said, before looking over at Micah and Abel with much kinder eyes. “Would either of you like a cup too?”

“We’ll be alright,” Micah said with a grin, hopefully enough of one to keep his thoughts off his face but—

“Make them a cup,” Malachi cut in. “It’ll give us time to talk.”

Basma nodded then held out her hand to Mira. “Come on, why don’t you help me this time? Maybe we’ll see if there’s enough flour to make some baghrir?”

Mira beamed at that, and a moment later the two of them were out of the room, leaving just Micah, Abel, and Malachi.

A tense silence washed over the room.

What is this guy’s deal? Micah thought to himself. He had seen him around before. Somewhere with… Saadya! Micah thought, as realization brought its quick relief. He was with Saadya! In fact, now that he thought about it more Malachi was always around her. Well, he’d only seen her a few times before, but Malachi had always been there. Except… this makes even less sense now.

“Let’s sit,” Malachi said suddenly, as he motioned over to the table.

“Sure,” Abel said, and the three of them started making their way over to the cushioned floor seats.

Saadya was one of the main reasons the clinic was still around. When Quill Dust first started running rampant, before the clinic had Council money, she made sure they had supplies to keep helping people. She kept that place alive. Anyone working with her would know what a bad Nepis reaction looks like, and they’d know the clinic would be the best place to take them, but he didn’t take Mona, Micah thought. He’s obviously seen her like this before, and he hasn’t taken her in, which means he probably doesn’t think it’s a bad reaction.

Malachi found his seat first with a groan, as he brought himself low. He still hadn’t said a word about why he was here, but made sure to figure out what they were doing and what they knew. So, he doesn’t like people snooping around, Micah thought, and he’s been here before… then maybe…

Abel found his place at the table next, sitting right across from Malachi.

Micah thought back to Basma’s words when they first walked in. ‘I’m not really supposed to have people over now.’ That was a weird way to say it, Micah thought to himself, even if she did want us gone. He squatted down as he moved in to take the spot next to Abel. Unless she’s repeating instructions from someone else, like the man working for Saadya who she asked to help. He didn’t like the implications, but that did make sense.

That means he’s probably fishing, Micah thought, trying to see if we learned anything about Mona, but… he knows more than he’s letting on. He’s hiding something. Micah felt his stomach start to squirm. And I’ve got a bad feeling I know what. He took his seat.

The three of them sat in silence. Steam rose from the mugs left behind, and then suddenly Malachi spoke. “You two are not from the clinic.” He said that as a fact.

Abel remained placid. “We volunteer there sometimes—”

Malachi raised his hand. “You work with Daniel.”

That almost made Micah smirk. This is going well.

Another awkward silence lingered until Abel spoke up this time. “Yes,” he said.

Micah looked over and nearly gawked. Did he really just—

“That’s true.”

Yeah, Micah thought. He really did.

If the honesty surprised Malachi, he didn’t let it show. “Then why are you here?”

“Because we were at the clinic,” Abel said. “After everything that happened at the gate we—” he cleared his throat. “Well, some of us felt like we should do something to help. I’m sure you could understand why we might feel… personally responsible for what happened.”

Malachi folded his arms. “I could.”

“We overheard Mira while we were there. She was nearly crying when she came to us, and if her mother was really as sick as she was saying then Jonah would at least need help bringing her back here, so we offered to come.”

“Just like that?”

“We’re nice that way,” Micah said, folding his own arms as he joined the conversation. That’s a perfectly good reason to be here. He felt his stomach squirming again. Unless he knows there’s another reason to come.

Malachi looked over at him, his glare caught between contempt and pity. “Guilt is not kindness.” He let those words sit for a while. “But that makes little difference now. I can see how you found your way here.”

Micah sighed as cool relief washed over him. Maybe this isn’t about arbiters. Maybe he really is just looking after this woman. It was still too soon to tell though. They’d need way more than this.

“I’m glad,” Abel said, while he smiled and brought his hands to the table. “And since we’re being honest you work with Saadya, don’t you?”

The emotion left Malachi’s eyes as he looked back to Abel again. “I do.”

“And you’ve seen Mona yourself haven’t you?”

Malachi sighed as his stoic mask slipped a bit with a frown. “I have,” he said.

“Then why haven’t you taken her to the clinic yourself? I’m sure you know what a bad reaction to Dust looks like. If she gets the right care she can still be saved.”

That’s good, Micah thought. Get him talking about why he’s here. We’ll see if he slips up.

“Before she stopped talking… clearly,” Malachi said. “Mona told me not to take her to the clinic unless we had to. I was keeping my word.”

Abel raised his brow. “Why would she say that?”

“The clinic can be a dangerous place for the wrong people. Guards like to check-in and chain familiar faces to their beds.”

“She’s dying,” Micah said. “Doesn’t that matter more?”

Malachi looked back over to him. “Someone takes away your freedom, you won’t give it up a second time. Not without a fight.” Contempt and pity returned to his eyes. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Micah scowled as he felt his darkest moments resurface, his mother’s blood on his hands, staining his cheek. “You don’t know me that well.”

“I know better,” he spat back. “Then to trust a stray’s good intentions, and to call bullshit when I hear it.” He looked at Abel as he spoke the next words to both of them. “But understand this. No matter what you think you saw in there, it’s none of your business. Stay out of it.”

Silence washed over the table after that; but before anyone could respond Basma walked back in with Mira, holding a tray with three steaming cups on its surface.

They started to head over.

“Can I hand them out?” Mira asked, zipping out in front of her.

“Alright,” Basma said, “but be careful. You don’t want to spill any on our guests.”

“Ok!” Mira said before racing over to the table. Once Basma arrived she lowered the tray enough for Mira to reach the cups, and the young girl picked up the first with surprising focus and poise. She came over to Malachi with soft, careful steps.

“Here you go!” She said with a smile, which Malachi couldn’t help but return.

“Thank you, Mira,” he said, graciously taking his cup, before blowing the top and taking a sip to satisfy young Mira looking on. “Delicious.”

Mira beamed at that, then moved on to get the next cup before heading Abel’s way.

Micah watched as Malachi took another sip from his cup. We were right, he thought. This isn’t a Nepis overdose. There’s no reason to hide that. This is about something deeper. An arbiter was here.

“Thank you,” Abel said, as he took his cup and required sip. “Amazing,” he said with a grin, and a delighted Mira went for Micah’s cup next.

As she made her way around the table, Micah looked over and met Abel’s eyes. Tell me you know it too.

Abel gave a groan and nodded slightly, before looking back across the table again.

Micah joined in and turned towards Malachi. He won’t let us get anything useful now, he thought, but at least we have a place to start. Micah smiled as he reached for his tea. “Thanks Mira!” He took his sip. It was a sweet and minty tea that warmed his core and almost settled his nerves. Almost. “That’s great Mira, you’re a natural at this!”

She smiled and headed back over to Basma.

We just need to get Malachi away from them, Micah thought. If we can talk to them alone maybe we can get something that explains what an arbiter would want here and—

“Those flowers,” it was Jonah calling out from the doorway to Mona’s room. “Where did you get them? I’ve seen them in a few homes recently, but they don’t strike me as Amarian.”

The flowers? Micah thought. Why does he care about them? It even took Basma a moment to realize that the question was for her.

“Oh, uh,” she shook her head, clearly gathering her thoughts behind closed eyes, before speaking again. “You’re right,” she said. “Those came from one of Palti’s orphans. The old man grew them at the orphanage and let the kids replant some and take them when they found a home.” Her expression soured and turned grim. “After the fire they… we took one in for a time. Shadi. Those came from him.” After a moment she found herself and the darkness in her face fell away. “Why do you ask?”

“Huh,” Jonah said, nodding as he toyed with something small in his hands. “You know Mona… had become very devout in recent months. We’d spoken many times and she really valued her faith, which is why I don’t understand why she would keep her Eglit under a vase.” As he said those words he held up a dull Traveler’s coin. The bottom half had some soot or dark resin stuck on it, which had clearly smeared across the coin.

“Why do you care, Traveler?” Malachi asked. “What’s that got to do with her—” he looked over at Mira holding on to Basma’s side. “—being sick.”

“Well, I think… “ then he turned his gaze to the table’s other side. “Abel was it?” he asked.

Abel nodded.

“Yes, well, I think Abel was right about the bad reaction,” Jonah said, “but this—” he waved the coin in the air again. “An Eglit is one of the first traditions a Conduit of the faith is taught. It is given dirty and cleaned by hand, stored near something a conduit cares for above all others. Something that they hold dear.”

Basma smiled at that. “Then the coin was in the right place. She loves Shadi.”

“Which I understand now,” Jonah said, then he stepped deeper into the room. “But what I don’t is this.” He held out the coin again. “Look at it under the light.”

Basma handed Mira her tray. “Here Mira, bring this to the kitchen for me, I’ll be in there with you soon and we’ll make that baghrir.”

The young girl nodded, took the tray, and left.

Then Basma strode over to Jonah and took the coin, before walking back to the square of columns and holding the coin beneath the mosaic’s light. “It’s… it’s shimmering.”

Malachi groaned as he started to stand. “Let me see.”

Basma went over to him and handed him the coin, which he took then walked towards the windows near the front door. He held it up to the light. “It’s… this resin,” he said. Then his face started to change, as his unwavering demeanor slipped into a harrowing frown. “It looks like there’s Dust in it.”

Shock marred the room’s expressions. Confusion set in next. Yeah, confusion is the word, Micah thought to himself. Why would— “Is that supposed to be there?”

“Obviously not,” Malachi said. Then the room turned to Jonah.

“No,” he said. “It’s supposed to be ash and oil. Just something benign to remind us to work on our faith daily.” He shook his head his expression lost. “I have no idea why there’d be Nepis in this.”

Suddenly they heard whistling through the window from out on the street. It was rhythmic and loud, almost like a bird, and it snapped both Malachi and Basma to attention at once.

“Guards are coming,” Malachi said, palming the coin. “Means it’s time to go.”

“If you’re worried I can talk to them,” Jonah said. “It’s been a hectic day for the guard as well, I’m sure I can—”

“No offense,” Malachi said, “but that’s why I’d rather leave. They’ve been out in force since the riot and angry guards play rough, especially on the Basin side.”

“Traveler Roe could spare us the hassle,” Abel said, “and there’s more to be done here for—”

“No,” Malachi cut in. “There’s not. Mona will be cared for, and you’re done here.” He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Besides, they might not bother the Traveler, but I’m one of those familiar faces they’d prefer to keep chained to a bed.” Then he gave him a knowing look. “Who knows? I might not be the only one.”

I hate to say it but he’s right, Micah thought to himself. A city guard shouldn’t recognize them, at least before today, but after the archives now he… he couldn’t be sure. We can’t afford to gamble, he thought. It hadn’t been that kind of day.

“We’re leaving,” Abel said, then he stood and Micah followed suit.

“We shouldn’t go together,” Malachi said. “You two head out first. Follow the road to the right and take the long way around to the Gate.”

Damn, I hoped he’d forget. Malachi leaving first was the last chance they had to talk with Basma alone. More whistling rang out from the street. But there’s no time to argue now.

“Let’s go Micah,” Abel said, then he turned to face Basma. “Thank you for the tea.”

As Abel turned to walk away, Micah looked at the scene they were leaving. He still wasn’t sure how to process what they’d learned. An arbiter was here. Everything they had so far pointed to that, except for the coin. Dust being on her things, and something she touched often was… compelling. It could’ve gotten into a cut on her fingers but— Malachi wouldn’t hide that, Micah thought to himself, and it doesn’t explain how the Dust got there in the first place. He looked back to Mona’s bedroom doorway. But Dust might explain an Arbiter, and Malachi would hide that.

There were more questions left than Micah would’ve liked, but they had the answer they came for. No matter how Mona had gotten sick… an Arbiter was in the city.

Micah mulled on that as the two of them headed out the door, and a few moments later they were back on the streets.