“Sunlight is a myth.”

“I assure you, captain, it is not,” Jonathan Heights said, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off the sleeve of his immaculately tailored suit. “I have seen it with my own eyes, and my eyes are very, very good.”

“Yeah?” Captain Montgomery said doubtfully, squinting at him. “What’s it look like?”

“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Jonathan said sincerely, closing his eyes for a moment and letting that sacred sight return to his mind. The clarity and purity of that single ray of light descending from the heavens had burned itself forever into his soul, rendering the rest of the world faded and dull by comparison and at the same time giving him strength and purpose. “And you, my good captain, have the chance to see it for yourself.”

“Yeah? Why me?” Montgomery scowled at him. “The Endeavor isn’t exactly in the best of shape right now.” Jonathan inclined his head, conceding the point. The vessel he’d seen in drydock was more scrap than ship, part melted, part dissolved, the envelope mostly burned away, and parts of the superstructure crazed with the cracks of luminiferous detonation. By anyone’s reckoning it was a poor prospect for a venture.

“Three good reasons.” Jonathan smiled at the captain. “One, you managed to bring that back into port. Two, you’ve been flying for a very long time and you have an excellent reputation. Three, you’re desperate.”

“You’re not supposed to mention that last one,” Montgomery growled, lifting his glass and finding it empty. He lifted it to catch the attention of the bartender and then returned his gaze to Jonathan.

“Four, you’re drowning your sorrows here rather than a seedy tavern,” Jonathan said, glancing around the clean, zint-lit interior of The Likely Prospect, which was likely the best restaurant available to anyone in the port quarter. Instead of rough rock and pale green myceliplank, it had polished tiles and sanded, stained walls the color of burnished gold. “I appreciate a man of refined taste.”

“Yeah? Well I appreciate someone who comes to the point. You’re seeking sunlight, sure. I can believe it. Yeah, I’ve heard of you,” Montgomery said, almost accusingly. “I might even be tempted to take the job. Problem is, there’s no way you can make it worth my while.”

“Indeed?” Jonathan said, picking up the metal case resting beside his chair. “You believe I am impoverished?”

“Everyone knows your last expedition was a disaster. Hell, it was in the papers!” Montgomery said, leaning back as the waitress came by with a fresh bottle of liquor. “But even if you were flush, you’d have to practically buy me a new ship and—”

He cut off as Jonathan casually placed the case on the table, drawing a groan from the myceliplank. Montgomery’s eyes narrowed as Jonathan turned the case to face him and flipped the catches raising the lid. Inside was gold. Lots of gold. Blank plates were arranged in columns and held in place with steel, while the lid held eight luminiferous gems, inset to avoid damage from the rest of the contents.

“Close that thing!” Montgomery hissed, slamming the lid down and looking around. The restaurant was filled with avaricious sailors and, despite its civility, shadowed by those versed in dark dealings. Experimentally he tried to heft the case, and could barely manage with two hands what Jonathan had done with one.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” He gestured around at the rest of the clientele, and shaded his eyes in the direction of the door, where a pair of battered men were being watched by the house muscle — who wouldn’t quite deign to call themselves bouncers. Jonathan hadn’t entered the restaurant unmolested. “That much, out in the open like this?”

“As you said, I would practically have to buy you a new ship,” Jonathan said, his smile growing. Several of his teeth seemed to be slightly more pointed than they should have been. “We’re headed east. Very far east. You need to refit the Endeavor for long distance travel, including distillation facilities and spare parts. Plan on myself as a passenger, and perhaps three or four others.”

“Yeah?” Montgomery chewed on that, his drink forgotten. That much gold could focus any man’s mind, not to mention the gems. While those were worth money too, they were more valuable put to use as the cores for new engines or weapons. Things the Endeavor desperately needed. “I still don’t get it. If this is what you’ve got, you could buy a fancy new dreadnaught. So why bother with me?”

“You’ve been out there,” Jonathan said, his smile falling away. Deadly serious, his dark eyes pinned Montgomery in place. “You know what it’s really like beyond the walls. No navy crew is going to really understand. Even the fanciest ship wouldn’t survive without a crew that knows the darkness.”

“Now that, I believe,” Montgomery said, turning to the bottle and pouring himself a shot, then lifting it in salute to Jonathan, who inclined his head.

“You are also not, despite your experience, affiliated with the Exploration Society, who are the ones who wrote that article in the paper.” Jonathan frowned, his fingers tapping on the top of the case. “Bunch of vultures. They’ve been hounding me since I got back, jealous as they are. They might bother you, but I suggest you simply ignore them.”

“So that’s who they were,” Montgomery said, glancing again at the pair at the front of the restaurant. Despite the value of the case in Jonathan’s hand, the two hadn’t been after the money, but rather his intentions. Their demands to know Jonathan’s business were just the bleating of a jealous, nosy old club.

“I imagine that if those types give you any lip, you’ll know how to take care of them,” Jonathan said idly.

“Aye, not that I have anything in particular against them, mind, I just don’t see how what I do is anyone else’s business. Save the tax-man’s, I suppose,” Montgomery said with a laugh.

“The Crown always takes its due,” Jonathan agreed. “Do we have a deal?” He reached his hand across the table.

“You make deals this big on handshakes?” Montgomery asked, but nevertheless reached out to take Jonathan’s hand.

“If I can’t trust you on this, how could I trust you enough to fly with you?” Jonathan asked.

“Fair point,” Montgomery said.

“Come by my estate tomorrow,” Jonathan said, standing and taking the case back. He held it in one hand, the other one resting on his cane. “I don’t imagine you’ll want to take charge of this while you’re still drinking.”

“Too rich for my blood,” Montgomery agreed. “I’ll tell the crew. Cheers, mister Heights.”

“Enjoy your evening, Captain,” Jonathan said, his cane tapping on the tile floor of The Likely Prospect as he made his way outside. The zint lights illuminated the white stone of the Port Quarter, where carriages rumbled back and forth on the level street. Most of them were no longer drawn by animals, fueled instead by distilled luminiferous terrestrite, or zint as everyone called it thanks to the sound the extractors made. His own was no exception, and a wave of his cane summoned his chauffeur, who maneuvered the carriage up to the sidewalk.

“Any luck, sir?” Johann inquired politely, holding the door open. Jonathan stepped past the large spindled wheels, which rose almost to the level of the windows, and mounted the steps into the enclosed interior.

“Some,” Jonathan confirmed, carefully placing down the money case and settling into the rear seat. Despite the wealth he’d shown to Montgomery, the carriage itself was of a fairly modest design, large enough for only two or three people in the rear and with less plush seats than the true luxury models.

“Glad to hear it, sir,” Johann said, closing the door after him before taking his place at the front of the carriage and pulling the drive lever, steering it out into traffic. Jonathan watched the city pass by as Johann drove them back to his modest estate in the Merchant Quarter.

Beacon, named such for obvious reasons, was a city of white stone, bright lights, and deep shadows. Zint-light was everywhere, though in some sections of the city they were still scrubbing away the accumulated soot of centuries of torches and gas-light. While it was in some ways home, Jonathan had never truly liked the place. There was something dishonest about the light of Beacon, despite the thousands of people that thrived within its walls. Despite it being the source of all the technology and machinery he took advantage of. The lethal darkness of the outside world still seemed more true, and only sunlight came by its illumination honestly.

The carriage wound down away from the ports, past warehouses, residences, storefronts, barracks, walls, and gates. Jonathan’s eyes were shadowed as he watched, one hand resting lightly on the case to steady it as the carriage rolled over bumps and jostled its way past the occasional pit in the road. His estate was a modest one, the upper two floors of an older building near the gate to the Industrial Quarter, and he mounted the steps as Johann parked the carriage in the rear.

Agnes, his housekeeper, had the door open moments after he rapped the outside bell with his cane, and he strode inside with the money case still in hand. He gave her a nod and walked past a hallway furnished with the spoils of expeditions past – a tablet covered in a script nobody could read, a crystalline flower that never withered, a bust of some inhuman serpentine god carved from black stone – before entering the sitting room. A gas fire blazed in the hearth there, despite the entire city being mostly heated with steam, and he placed the case on the small table next to his old armchair where it rested in front of the fire.

Jonathan waited for a while, leaning on his cane, until Agnes came in to deliver a tray with a bottle of scotch and a glass before retreating. He turned to the tray as if to pour himself a drink, then without any warning whipped around, holding half the cane in one hand as the unsheathed blade whistled through the air. It stopped in midair with the ringing of metal, and a long dagger faded into view, followed by its wielder — a young woman dressed in a charcoal greatcoat with dark red hair peeking out from under a cloche hat.

“You’re not supposed to be able to see me,” she said conversationally.

“You’re not supposed to be able to eschew the light,” Jonathan replied, sheathing his sword. “Yet here we are. Honestly, you’re earlier than I expected. How are you, Eleanor?” She frowned at him and sheathed the dagger, sighed, and then dropped bonelessly into one of his chairs.

“After you flashed so much money you know the Reflected Council would want to know what was going on. And how they could get a cut.” She blew an annoyed puff of air at a lock of hair that shifted to cover one eye. “I’m really going to get it when they find out you noticed me.”

“If they find out,” Jonathan said. “Truthfully, I was hoping they’d send you. Saves me the time of finding you some other way.” He found the Council, who styled themselves the rulers of all the shadows cast by the Illuminated King’s light, to be dangerous but useful. They also had the imprimatur of authority from their dealings with higher nobility, and the simple fact that the King had not crushed them.

“Yeah?” Eleanor eyed him, eyes narrowed as she considered his words. “It’s crazy stupid to get the Reflected Council after you on purpose.”

“Probably,” Jonathan agreed with a broad smile. “But it got you here, didn’t it?”

“Yeah?” Eleanor said skeptically. “And what’s your pitch? You’re going to play me off against the Council?”

“Nothing so brash,” Jonathan demurred. “I would just like to invite you along on an expedition. The Council wants a spy on me anyway, so why not one that can pull her weight?”

“What, another expedition after your last?” Eleanor scoffed. “So you can leave me to die like you did with old Stoneface and — urk!” Jonathan’s iron grip on her throat choked off the remainder of her imprecation, his hand pinning her against the chair’s back after he closed the distance in an instant. Her hands went for her dagger on reflex, but paused at the look in Jonathan’s eyes.

“I left nobody,” Jonathan said, voice as cold and hard as hammered steel. “I betrayed nobody. We were simply not equal to what we found out there — a deficiency that I will be correcting. Mock me if you like, but if you question my honor we will have trouble.” He let her go, stepping back and leaning on his cane, casual once again. “Do you understand?”

Eleanor’s hands went to her throat as she drew a gasping breath. A touch of fear colored her eyes as she looked at Jonathan, who was not the same man he had been when they had last met. As a younger man he might have been more tolerant, but he had seen the light and now had little compunction about removing those in his way.

“I understand,” she said at length, massaging her throat. “I guess I shouldn’t have accused you,” she said grudgingly, and he inclined his head, both of them willing to put the altercation behind them. “But the Reflected Council itself won’t believe you. And they’re going to want more out of you than before, since Stoneface never came back.”

“Then let them know any other agent they try to send along will be dead before we leave the city,” Jonathan said casually, twirling his cane. “This is for keeps, Eleanor. I found sunlight.”

“That’s it?” She said in disbelief. “That old fairy tale?”

“If you’d seen it, you’d understand,” he told her, leaning on his cane once again. He turned to the tray and uncorked the bottle. “Scotch?”

“No thanks,” Eleanor said, coughing once or twice. “I should get back. If I’m not coming back with gold, I’ll need to think up a good story.”

“Certainly,” Jonathan agreed. “Take your time. We’re not leaving tomorrow, after all.”

Eleanor stood, still eyeing him warily, and melted away into the shadows. There was no sound of doors opening or closing, but Jonathan didn’t expect any. Instead he hummed to himself and looked into the fire as he nursed his drink, thinking of the future.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

When a summons to the Palace arrived the next day, Jonathan was hardly surprised. It was an annoyance, and likely one the Reflected Council had thrown his way as punishment for embarrassing them even by proxy, but Jonathan could manage it. The only obstacle would be if the Illuminated King decided to ban him from vacating the city entirely, and even that wouldn’t stop him. Not for long.

Jonathan was leaving, one way or another.

The Palace was a place of pillars and zint, tall white arches shot through with veins of luminiferous terrestrite, and soldiers with rifles and white gilt swords were posted at every intersection. The central tower, a spiraling spire studded with windows and liberally festooned with zint-lights, rose high into the air above the outer curtain wall. Jonathan’s cane tapped against the stone floor as he followed his guide through the outer gates and around the enormous inner courtyard that surrounded the tower. Bluegreen moss covered the grounds, and elaborately sculpted vines bearing small red fruits covered carved statues.

Court functionaries and hangers-on strolled through the courtyard, discussing matters of state or the latest gossip, though in most cases there was little difference between the two. Jonathan recognized none of them, though he had never been familiar with the circles of high nobility. He regarded the white-clad types as little more than parasites, trying to draw meaning from their proximity to the Illuminated King.

Even if the Palace summons was not a surprise, Jonathan found his brows raising as his guide ushered him past the lesser offices and along the path to the central tower itself. He had been expecting to be kept waiting for several hours and having a few go-rounds with some lesser bureaucrat. There would be some bribery, some insincere compliments, maybe a few veiled warnings. But when he was delivered to the Luminatory, Jonathan found himself deeply suspicious.

The guards on either side of the heavy steel door worked together to turn the wheel that opened it, and Jonathan strode inside. It was in some ways a simple room, carved of stone with a petitioner’s dais in the center and a raised balcony at the other end, but there was something about it that set his teeth on edge. In the Luminatory there was nothing but zint-light. There were no shadows, no colors, the white stone reflecting the exact shade of zint. There were no decorations to distract the eye, nothing but a shrine to the light of zint — and the King who wielded it.

Despite his misgiving about the chamber, Jonathan ascended the few steps to the dais, standing in the center until a tone sounded. He went to one knee, head lowered. Even if he was not the most fervent supporter of the Illuminated King, he would not dare to show disrespect. There was no sound, no change in lighting that he could see, but suddenly the hair on the back of Jonathan’s neck prickled and he knew that he was not alone.

“You may rise,” the voice came, deep and resonant and something Jonathan could feel in his bones. He came to his feet and looked up at the Illuminated King.

Everyone in Beacon had seen the Illuminated King at a distance, atop the palace walls, where powerful spotlights gave him a radiant glow. There were no spotlights in the room, no blinding glow, but the Illuminated King was still cloaked in radiance, a silhouette in reverse. The light was so bright that it washed out any features, though Jonathan could still somehow look directly at it and he didn’t know whether to credit that to some talent of the King’s or his own experience with a light more real than zint.

“Jonathan Heights,” the Illuminated King said. “It has come to Our attention that you are financing an expedition to the east.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Jonathan said, mind immediately going to the case hidden away in his estate. He had never anticipated the Illuminated King to personally notice his activities, and if there was enough suspicion about the source of his funds or the goals of the expedition, there would be trouble. Breaking out of the Palace or the dungeons would be difficult, to say the least.

“Following in your father’s footsteps,” the Illuminated King remarked.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Jonathan repeated, more and more disturbed by the tack of the conversation. The Illuminated King surely had better things to do than pay attention to modest explorers like Reginald Heights. Jonathan himself was no more famous, and the old gentleman’s club of the Society of Explorers had even revoked his membership before that last expedition into the deep east.

Jonathan had simply thought it was jealousy and snobbery, as none of them had ever been so far in that direction. They hadn’t sent a message to him since he had returned though, not even to gloat, which he had found most odd. If the Illuminated King had taken an interest, perhaps there was something more to it.

“There is word that you have found sunlight,” the Illuminated King continued. “We have a certain interest in this matter.” Jonathan nodded, despite very much doubting the Illuminated King’s words. Though it was true that despite the brilliance of the light, it had a certain hollow quality next to the memory of that single glimpse of the sun’s radiance. He could well believe that the Illuminated King wanted to harness that somehow.

“To that end, We will be sending along someone to safeguard Our interests,” the Illuminated King said, and Jonathan hid a wince. A direct agent of the Illuminated King would be difficult to deal with, and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to trying to explain it to Eleanor. Nor did he enjoy the added strain of feeding and housing what was probably an entire retinue on a ship that would already be fairly crowded. “In return, we shall grant you Our token, that you might find your preparations easier.”

Jonathan suddenly found himself holding an inscribed white coin, faintly glowing, without any memory or understanding of how it came to be in his hand. He had to suppress a shudder, his knuckles going white on his cane, and revised what he thought of the Illuminated King. Some of the more cryptic passages in his father’s notes suddenly took on a new meaning, and his distrust of the monarchy became something more than just disliking the foibles of a corrupt nobility.

“Your Majesty is most generous,” Jonathan managed.

“Yes,” the Illuminated King said, the deep voice sounding almost amused. “We are.” The bright light dimmed, and he was gone. The tone sounded once again and there came the sound of the door opening behind him, which Jonathan took that to mean the audience was over. He stowed the glowing white coin inside the breast pocket of his suit and bowed to the empty balcony for good measure, before making his way back out into more reasonable light and colors other than white.

For all that royal attention was unwelcome, the token was quite useful. Jonathan contemplated it as Johann drove the carriage back to his estate, rolling the coin between his fingers. While it wouldn’t pay for anything itself, it would open doors at the best shipyards and zint-wrights, ones that money alone did not. Once again, he mounted the stairs to his modest estate, and when Agnes let him in she motioned to the small front room.

“A Captain Montgomery here to see you, sir,” she said. “He’s been waiting for nearly thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, Agnes,” Jonathan said, reaching up to touch the coin in his breast pocket. “Show him to my study.”

“Right away, sir,” Agnes said with a curtsey, and Jonathan climbed to the next floor, entering a small room filled with books and artifacts, ones too fragile or controversial to be displayed in the halls. The most incendiary were locked up in the safe, but the scraps of paper and fragments of pottery in the glass cases on his shelves hinted at cities and civilizations that officially never existed. His crown jewel was an ancient map, inked on some decrepit and crumbling scrap of cloth, that marked the place where the city of Beacon would eventually be with an ominous glyph in faded red.

The artifacts in the study were arranged in such a way to instill discomfort and dread, each grotesque statue or framed symbol gathered together to insult the eye and the mind. For most it would be enough to turn them away from the room, filled with an unnamable certainty they shouldn’t be there. Jonathan’s eyes saw right through it, as he had seen far stranger and more profound things in his travels.

A glance around showed that despite the Reflected Council’s interest in his treasury, there hadn’t been any attempts at looting his study. Not that they would have gotten far with their usual methods, given where the money case had been stowed. He set his cane aside and took a shard of distorted mirror from where it was mounted on the wall and angled it to reflect the safe, reaching out to slide his fingers into a series of grooves on the top of the heavy floor safe. Inside each one was a switch that took all his strength to throw, stiff springs giving way to open the secret top compartment of the squat iron safe with a click. Still using the mirror, he removed the case and set it on his desk before closing the hidden space and returning the mirror shard to its place.

The entire evolution only took a few seconds, so he was seated and waiting by the time Agnes ushered Montgomery in and Jonathan bade him sit. Despite the drinking the captain had undoubtedly indulged in the previous night, he looked fresh and alert and professional, the dark blue airman’s uniform spotless and his captain’s wings gleaming with fresh polish. His face, though, sagged slightly as he settled into the high-backed chair.

“I understand you got called up to the Palace this morning,” he said, by way of conversation. “Is — is the deal still on?”

“It certainly is,” Jonathan assured him, smiling and producing the white coin by sleight of hand, showing it off to Montgomery. “Not only is the deal still intact, but we will have preferred treatment refitting the Endeavor.”

“Oh.” Montgomery blinked, taking in the softly glowing piece of metal. “God’s trousers,” he said. “I didn’t think you were that well connected.”

“It pays to have friends in high places,” Jonathan said modestly, not at all bothered about misrepresenting the situation. “I assume for today you’ll want an advance and a promissory note to begin the process. Though for anything requiring this, I will need to go along.” He held up the coin and then palmed it again. Burden though it was, the token of the Illuminated King was something he was not letting out of his grasp.

“Yeah, I need to get my crew back together,” Montgomery said, weathered face wrinkling again, though in thought rather than distress. “Plus I need a new cook and at least two mechanics…”

“I will leave those matters in your capable hands,” Jonathan told him. “For the cargo, I have ample experience with outfitting such expeditions and will provide you a starting point. Of course, we will only know the Endeavor’s exact tonnage after the refit, but we can begin shipping supplies out to Danby’s Point by train.” They could cross the hundred-plus miles to the eastern point of the kingdom far faster if the Endeavor wasn’t fully loaded, and all things considered it was cheaper to send things by train. He lifted the case and opened it once again, taking out several of the blank golden plates and sliding them across to Montgomery. “I trust exchanging these will be no problem?”

“Not at all,” Montgomery said, a twinkle in his eye as he picked up the plates and then slid them into the pocket inside his suit coat. “I might well be acquainted with dealings that might evade the eye of the Crown’s taxes and customs enforcers.”

“I would think less of you if you didn’t,” Jonathan said with a chuckle. “I have found such folk useful myself, a time or two.” The good captain might well find that the exchange was better than he’d remember though, with the Reflected Council keeping an eye on things. After all, they’d want to encourage spending the gold so they got their cut.

If they resorted to actually robbing Montgomery, though, he would be quite put out with them. A discontent they might well not survive.

Montgomery stayed for a little longer, the two men exchanging stories from their time out beyond the walls, but it mostly served to confirm what Jonathan had already discovered. Montgomery was a man who preferred to be out flying, not stuck in the stifling confines of a city, and knew exactly how to do that without dying. The current state of the Endeavor didn’t reduce Jonathan’s opinion of him. He well knew that danger lurked in the darkness.

After Montgomery left, Jonathan dialed the combination on the heavy safe and opened the main compartment, pulling out an old leather notebook and a battered map case. He spread the map across his desk, weighting down the corners, and flipped open the notebook. Neither of them had any markings in any human tongue, ciphers holding their secrets close as he referenced one with the other. The Endeavor’s repair would take months, even with the favor of the Illuminated King, and he had plenty of work to do in the meantime.

Simply going east was not enough. Even with the best Beacon had to offer, they would have to rest, resupply, get their bearings, and repair whatever damage they might have sustained in the black wilderness. Over his many expeditions – even his last, ill-fated one – he had charted crumbling mines, ruined cities, isolated oases, and the migrations of caravans by races the Illuminated King did not acknowledge. Such resources – especially veins of raw terrestrite, to distill more zint fuel for their ship – would be of utmost importance on the journey.

The sound of bells interrupted his work, and he looked up from the papers, taking his hat and cane from the stand and flipping the latch on the balcony. He stepped outside, looking upward as the warning bells tolled through the city while the crown’s soldiers shouted at people to clear the streets. Around him, other people emerged into the chill air, and zint spotlights were turned upward. At first they caught nothing, then a few sparkling flakes drifted into view.

Far away and upward, Jonathan could see the faint blue-green flashes in the blackness of the sky outlining the enormous bulk of a herd of glacilium, the mountain-sized ice beings migrating south on their annual journey. It was a matter of heated debate whether they brought winter with them or merely heralded it, but the snow cascading off their upper slopes always covered Beacon in white when they passed. With that snow came the glaciwings that lived on the floating behemoths, pestiferous winged creatures that could do real damage to the unsuspecting civilian.

Jonathan was neither unsuspecting nor a civilian, so he stayed outside to watch the glacilium pass overhead. The snow went from a few flakes to a full blizzard, turning the spotlights from narrow beams into bright smears, and soldiers bustled to the tops of the towers spotted throughout the quarter to deal with the pests. He leaned on his cane, one hand clutching his hat as a sudden gust of wind threatened to snatch it away, and eyed the guns the soldiers were mounting. They did not look like any rifle he’d ever seen, with an overlarge steel tube and glass piping.

When the first shadow appeared above he had his answer, as the guns hummed with zint and spat light shards from one barrel after another, rapidly shredding the thing before it fully emerged from the shrouding blizzard. It plummeted lifelessly onto the deserted streets below, darkening the snow with blood. Jonathan hummed thoughtfully. He’d never seen the weapons before, but they would undoubtedly be useful on the trip east.

“The street sweepers are going to have their work cut out for them,” he remarked, apparently to nobody in particular. For a few seconds there was only the sounds of zint-weapons working and the cries of injured glaciwings, then Eleanor faded into view behind him. She had on a heavier coat than before, and her own hat was pinned firmly in place as she scowled at him.

“How do you do that?” She asked, crossing over to stand next to him on the balcony. Her booted feet made no tracks in the snow. He just chuckled.

“Has the Reflected Council made a decision?” Jonathan asked mildly.

“Maybe. You’ve said why you want me to go along, but why should I want me to go along?” Eleanor brushed a lock of hair away from her face with a frown.

“Aside from secrets, treasures, and myths?” Jonathan smiled at her and looked back up to the skies. “Do you think that the Reflected Council suspects that their tool is not really loyal to them?”

“Is that a threat?” Eleanor asked, her voice hard, and her dagger appeared in her hand.

“Certainly not,” Jonathan assured her. “I was merely remarking on your basic character. While I have been away some time, the Eleanor I know would not hold any particular affection for such employers.”

“It’s a short leash,” Eleanor admitted, after a pause as the zint-gun whined and sent a glaciwing careening off the opposite building. “This damn well better be something amazing, Jonathan, and I’m not talking about some sunlight nonsense. Or I might as well not come back.”

“Perhaps we should go inside,” he suggested, glancing around at the snow-muffled surroundings. Eleanor followed his look, shrugged and opened the balcony door. He followed her in and closed it behind them, drawing the curtains while she flopped down in guest chair, giving the map a critical eye.

“You know that I can read that, right?” she asked.

“I did not know you could read that,” Jonathan said, hanging up his hat and cane again and seating himself at the desk. “I’ll have to change the ciphers again.”

“Eh,” she waved it away. “You can’t hide it from the Council and we’re the only ones who probably can. But you’ve got something other than this wild chase going on, I can smell it. That last expedition wasn’t really a failure, was it?”

“Can you imagine what would happen if word got out that I was going after some impossible treasure?” Jonathan asked with amusement, and reached inside his jacket for the coin. He held it up to show her, catching her attention, before closing it in his fist. “You’re not the only one who is suspicious. The crown is sending someone along as well.”

“Ho, that’s not something you see often,” Eleanor said, sitting up straight. “Who is His Majesty sending? One of those Lux Guards? Those things give me the shivers.”

“I have no idea,” Jonathan said, though he didn’t like the sense he got from the faceless, armor-clad elites either. “I’ve just been warned that we’ll have a passenger representing the Crown’s interests.”

“That’ll be fun,” Eleanor said, idly toying with the coin. “Guess I’ll dust off one of my old identities.” Jonathan glanced at his hands and raised his eyebrows.

“Now, that was impressive,” he said, and held out his hand. Eleanor flashed him a satisfied smile and dropped the coin into it. He tucked it back inside his suit pocket, patting it to make sure it was still there after he’d done so.

“About time I got one over on you,” she grinned.

“And it shows why I’d rather have you along,” Jonathan said with a laugh. “After all, expeditions are dangerous. But the point is, it might well give you a chance to slip your leash.” He didn’t mention that if they weren’t successful, it wasn’t likely that they’d return at all.