“Now,” Multhamurra said. He turned to face Kylara. “Do you want to talk about why you really came over here?”

Brief alarm swept over Kylara. “Why I came here?” she asked, careful to keep her face neutral. She was still somewhat wary of the stranger, even if she was warming up to him. It was best to not give anything away at this stage.

Kylara waited for a moment, then flickered her eyes between the two older adults as if prompting a question.

Wawiriya looked to the magsman and cocked her head, as if wondering why he was taking so long to answer.

Oddly, it seemed like Wawiriya trusted him. It was strange. Kylara couldn’t pinpoint exactly why she would. They clearly knew each other, but not well. For one, Multhamurra had not known about her family before she had told him a few minutes before. Neither had he known much about Kookaburra Creek, the town Wawiriya had lived for centuries. He had been surprised that it did not smell of moths.

She had no doubt that the magsman had motivations that were hidden from her, especially about the Wanderers. So while she did trust Wawiriya, she was not ready to extend her trust further. Not yet. Not until she asked the right questions and got the right answers.

That was the hard part. First, she needed to figure out exactly what she wanted from the man.

Then work out how to get it.

That was more difficult, because it involved knowing how much to reveal. She did not want to give up too much. Divulging that she had already been to the creek and seen the moths would be a last resort. She now had a funny feeling the two were related.

She stayed quiet.

“You came here for a reason, no? You wanted to talk to me?” Multhamurra looked almost eager, impatient for an answer.

Obviously I came here for a reason. I came here for answers. Now how to get them without you catching on, that is the question…

“So?” Multhamurra tilted his head, as if seeking an answer.

“You’re right,” Kylara finally confirmed. She purposely did not elaborate. People often found silence uncomfortable and would fill the lull in the conversation. She wanted to see what he would say without prompting. Deliberately using people's aversion to the silence against them was a tactic she knew well.

Of course, if her theory was correct and he had once been a warder, the tactic would probably not work. Warders were trained to be careful with their words.

She was about to give in and continue when to her surprise, he did talk. “You came here for my soup, right?” he said. “I don’t have anymore unfortunately. I’ve already had two people come up and ask. Chef’s dream, really. I love the praise. I’m tempted to make more tomorrow.”

The tangent was so out of the blue it took Kylara a second to reorient.

“Sorry, what?” she said.

“Your friend–Yalmay, I believe it was–I asked her to give you some. You liked it, right? That’s why you came over here? The soup?”

“I– uh,” Was that really what he thought? “I– er, I suppose so.” She straightened her back. “Yes. Yes it was.”

Thankfully, that was not a lie. Asking about the soup had not been her initial reason for coming over, true. But technically it was her main reason.

She had told Yalmay she was going to ask about the soup, and you couldn’t just not follow through with a declaration of intent like that. Not if you were a warder. It would be considered a breach of promise.

She could change her mind about other things. The butterflies, the University, the crashed cart–she did not need to ask about those. But the soup? That was set in stone.

It was both the biggest challenge and the biggest privilege of being a warder.

And one she could use to her advantage.

“The soup was good,” she said. She looked down at the bowl in her hand. She had hastily put it on the ground when Billy had knocked his grandmother over. Remarkably, it had been untouched by the incident.

“Excellent,” Multhamurra said. “I’m glad you liked it. I’ll let you know when I make more.”

“Er,” Kylara said. She shifted a bit on her feet. “The thing is, I didn’t come to ask for more sou–”

The magsman’s smile vanished. In fact, it was almost comical how suddenly it dropped. He looked heartbroken.

She paused. Did he really care about his soup that much?

…What?

From what little she had made out of their conversation, it had sounded like he had much more important things to worry about.

“–I came to ask what’s in it,” she finished.

“Oh!” The magsman’s dour expression vanished instantly. He smiled broadly. Once again, Kylara was caught by how distractingly white his teeth were. “Even better,” he said. “Fishing for a secret recipe, are we?”

“Secret recipe?”

“They say in some professions, discretion's the true test of skill.”

Kylara frowned. What was he getting at? Did he want her to promise not to tell anyone the recipe? Because that was a very high ask from a warder.

“If you’re asking for my word that I won’t share it–” she started.

“No, no, no.” He looked horrified. “Don’t promise. I’ll tell you. Sorry, I was just excited. Not many people ask for the recipe, so I don’t get many chances to give someone a hard time about it.”

He pointed at the bowl in her hands. “The broth is made with a wattleseed and oyster emulsion with a few spices and complementary oils. The dumplings are also oyster with some ground nuts mixed in, all wrapped in boiled saltbush leaves.” He leaned back and stretched his arms lazily. “It’s a recipe from Istar, which most people say is the best restaurant in Warrung. Maybe the best in the world. They keep their recipes so secret that the chef writes them down in code to keep others from finding it.” He winked. “I only got it because she owed me a favour.”

Kylara wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Oysters?”

“Yep.” He looked proud of himself. “Aaand, they’re Byland Bay oysters, which are a bit smaller than the ones you usually get–those are from Port Macwei–but I actually prefer these ones. They’re milder, but they make up for it because flavour is more complex. Oh, and if you’re at the market buying them, sometimes they’re labelled Wau Beach instead of Byland Bay, but it’s the same thing. Learnt that from this lovely woman called Neda, although in retrospect she might have been scamming me. She spent a long time telling me how it all works, how she spends hours making sure the oysters have spat attached so that the beds end up dense enough when they throw them into the bay–”

None of this was relevant. Kylara had no intention of buying any oysters. Other than the soup, she had had oysters maybe one or two times in her life. You couldn’t find them in Kookaburra Creek. Even in Saltsbury, a much bigger town, they were rare and expensive. They were too far from the sea.

Meanwhile, Multhamurra had continued talking, “–and anyway, it’s really fascinating stuff because someone had to eat the first oyster. You ever think about that? Someone picked up a shell full of slime and goop and thought yes, I’ll eat this. This belongs in my mouth. That first person–no idea if it was safe or not, they picked it up, put it to their lips, and sent out a prayer. The bravery! I wish I had been there, but I missed it.” He clapped his hands. “Anyway, my point is that really, we should all be eating more oysters, It’s good for the ocean,” he concluded.

Her mouth quirked and she nodded along, not really paying attention. After all, one of her suspicions had just been confirmed. The magsman had to be a warbler, or a person who could walk the songlines. The songlines were the only way to get from the ocean to Kookaburra Creek fast enough for the oysters not to spoil.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

That’s one suspicion down, now on to the next…

“I thought it might be oysters and nuts,” Kylara said, “but I was having trouble discerning it. It’s mild, slightly sweet, bit of brininess to bring out the flavour…” She sniffed the dumpling she had been saving in her bowl. “It’s very subtle, but are you sure there isn’t something else? Smell it. Here.” She handed the bowl to him, but he made no move to take it. “Here,” she said again.

“I’m afraid I’ll pass,” he said after a moment. “I’ve got a bit of a cold at the moment. My sense of smell is off.”

Ah, so he was sticking with that story. She had wondered if he would keep to the whole ‘I can’t smell’ thing. He had been telling Wawiriya about it before Kylara had joined the conversation. It had seemed like a big deal to her. She quickly glanced at Wawiriya, who was still listening. Her face was impassive.

Kylara took the bowl back. “Anosmia?” she said. “I’m impressed. I’ve heard you need a good sense of smell to taste things. How did you cook it?”

“I guess you can say that I have a very good memory.”

Well, that seemed to check out.

“I’d assume its the cheese you’re smelling,” he continued, “there’s not much in there, but its fairly strong, and probably less tangy than you’re used to. It’s not from a sheep.”

“Not from a sheep?” Kylara said. That was interesting. Very interesting. Interesting and… disturbing.

If not a sheep, what other animals could you milk? Unless you were sticking your hand down a kangaroo pouch, none of the animals that were large enough had the teats for it. Sheep were specifically designed for milk, everyone knew it. The only other animal that made outside milk were dingos and dogs. Well, them, humans, and platypuses. But platypuses were just weird. They sort of… sweated it? They didn’t count.

As for humans? She looked at the soup, slightly disgusted. No, she thought. No no no. Definitely not.

… right?

She threw up a few trigger wards just in case–one for sheep milk, one for dingo milk (dogs and dingos could share a ward), and one for one for human milk. None of them came up positive. She sighed in relief. Thank the gods. She briefly wondered if it was cheese in there at all, but there was no way of telling. You could not make a ward for milk in general. Carlinn’s Law. Wards needed to be attached to a specific type of animal.

“Unfortunately, it’s not nearly as interesting as you seem to think,” Multhamurra said. His voice seemed stuck between amusement and curiosity. He was looking directly at the soup almost as if… Kylara grimaced.

Fuck. He can see my trigger wards, can’t he? She had forgotten about his little stunt at the Nest.

She castigated herself inwardly. Idiot. Why had she even bothered to confirm it wasn’t human milk? It was a ridiculous notion in the first place.

“You don’t need to worry,” Multhamurra said. “It’s not what you think. I got it from a farmer in the far north, that’s all. They have slightly different animals there.”

“Oh.”

They stood there for a long moment, silently. It was long enough for Kylara to start wondering if perhaps she should have brought Yalmay along. Hounding the man with questions about the University was honestly a half-decent way to collection information. At least there wouldn’t be any periods of awkward silence like now. Yalmay would just unabashedly ask another question.

Well, why not give it a go?

“Are you a worldhopper?” she asked, using the more polite term. She had met warblers that got offended at their common nickname. Admittedly, most of them had been pompous pricks, but that was besides the point.

Multhamurra sat back and ran his palm over his lips and chin. He gave Wawiriya a significant look. “Well,” he said. “I haven’t always been a magsman. Most of us start as something else, you know. It isn’t easy to travel from place to place with no home to call your own. Telling stories and sharing knowledge is valuable, but it is not a young man’s job. You travel too far and retain too little.

“No, I began as most people do, with a job and a place to call my own. I went to the University. I learnt the songlines and the ways of the network. I completed service. And then I became a magsman.”

“I’ve never heard of a magsman who knew the songlines before,” Kylara said.

He chuckled a little at that. “Well, most University graduates don’t run off the second they finish service to do a common folk’s profession. They work their way up the ranks; either for the royal family or for the University. But I always wanted to find my own path.” His lip twitched a little, and he looked down as if he had just made a funny joke. “My own path?” he said. “Heh. That turned out to be quite literal indeed.”

Kylara nodded. Well, there were two questions answered.

One–he had gone to the University. It made sense. And two–he was a warbler. One was not necessarily a requirement for the other, but most warblers had gone to the University.

The map of the songlines that the University had was the most extensive in the world. They had knew more about the warrens, had discovered more of the Network’s secrets, and new more about the local magics than anyone else. More warblers travelled the songlines under the banner of Warrung than anywhere else. It was one of the reasons why the city was so powerful.

If someone knew the paths well enough to go directly to Kookaburra Creek (without stopping in Saltsbury first–Kylara still wasn’t sure that was even possible), it only made sense they had been trained at the University.

She sighed. She would have to tell Yalmay the good news. This would be her first time meeting someone who had actually graduated from there. Yalmay would be absolutely ecstatic. Well, until she found out what Malyun was planning. Then she would be devastated.

“I have a friend,” Kylara said, “well, my sister actually. She’d love to talk to you. She’s been meaning to apply to the University for years.”

“Really?” Multhamurra sounded intrigued. “Any particular subject?”

“Languages,” Kylara said. “She wants to be either a translator or a linguist.”

He smiled. “Ah, great subject. Lots to learn–and fascinating too. The University always wants people like that.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes, really,” Multhamurra said. “Anyone who can pick up languages quickly is an asset. I remember quite a few times when I was there, someone was on a run and stumbled across a country no one had discovered before.” He paused. “Well, I say discovered. Not really the right word if people already live there, and people often did. But that was the word we used.” He shook his head. “Anyway, the point being–the University’s protocol was to send its linguists out first. New people, new language, new customs. And the linguists were always the first to experience it. I can see why it appeals to her.”

That answered a question Kylara had had for a while. Linguistics had always seemed like such a odd thing for the University to offer. The University was a place of renown–a place of magic and contrivance and strange things beyond the imagining. Languages had always seemed so… dull in comparison. But for practical purposes–yes, Kylara could see it now. If you needed to talk to people, there weren’t many other options than learning their language.

Now as to why Yalmay had chosen linguistics as opposed to… anything else they offered? That was another question entirely. Yalmay was probably just weird.

“Honestly,” Kylara said after a moment, “I think the adventure is a part of it, but mostly she just likes the subject. Yalmay’s got a genuine love of it. She’d be happy just studying languages even without the travel.”

“Even better,” Multhamurra said. “I’d love to talk to her. I studied some of that myself back in the day. In fact, I should have some old books back in my room that might be of use, if you come with me to get them.”

“Now?”

“Sure. Why not? I’ve finished eating, and I assume you have too.”

“You should go,” Wawiriya said.

Kylara looked at her. “I should?” she said.

“Yes,” Wawiriya said. “This is a great opportunity for both of you. You shouldn’t turn it down. Take advantage of it.”

Kylara nodded. She was warming up to Multhamurra. Oh, she was still sure he had a hidden agenda, but she trusted him enough to assume he would not harm anyone. That, and she liked the idea of having him with her. She could keep a close eye on him that way.

Plus, Wawiriya was right–learning from someone who had attended the University was a rare privilege.

“Okay,” Kylara said. “I’ll come. But I wanted to ask you something first. About the butterflies.”

She would start with them. The cart thing was out of the question at the moment. She wasn’t sure if she could admit that she had almost lost warding permanently in front of Wawiriya yet. Not after everything Wawiriya had done for her.

“Butterflies?” Wawiriya frowned. “What butterflies?”

“The ones he’s been conjuring.”

Wawiriya gave Multhamurra a hard look. “You’ve been conjuring butterflies?”

Multhamurra shrugged. “Just a bit of fun, is all. Harmless cheap tricks.”

“Cheap tricks?”

“He was showing them to the kids,” Kylara added.

Wawiriya looked genuinely taken aback. “Why?” she asked. “Why would you want to do that?”

Multhamurra took a sip of his drink. “Oh, lighten up,” he said. “Dead moths? What was I going to do with that? I’m a storyteller. Stories need flare. If I was listening to something and the grand finale was a bunch of dead brown moths, I’d be bored to tears. Put a little excitement in your life.”

That, evidently been the wrong thing to say.

“Put a little excitement in my life?” Wawiriya looked absolutely furious. Her nostrils flared, her eyebrows furrowed, and her hands curled to fists at her side. Kylara thought even her face looked a bit less wrinkled. She spoke harshly, “How dare you,” she said.

“They’re butterflies, Wawiriya,” Multhamurra said, still calm. “Not harbingers of doom. It’s nothing to worry about.” He took another sip of his drink and then turned to her slowly.

Too slowly, Kylara thought. He’s not taking her seriously. Whatever her concerns are, he really does not care and he wants to make it very obvious. It seemed like a cruel thing to do.

“Nothing to worry about?” Wawiriya said. “Do you know who you sound like?”

At that, Multhamurra finally looked at her. Really looked at her, not just pointed his eyes in her direction. He looked at her as if he could see her very soul. It unnerved Kylara. She took a step back.

“And,” he said, “who do you think I sound like?” His voice was oddly neutral, as if he was putting on an effect.

Wawiriya spent a long time quiet. When she spoke again, she did not answer his question. Instead she said, “Do you know what I’ve been through?”

Multhamurra looked away. “Don’t change the topic,” he said, “you know the answer to that.”

“Meddling in local magics is not something to do lightly. You should know to be more careful.”

“And you should know that I’m perfectly capable. I’ve taken the necessary precautions.” He put his glass down, got up, and gathered up his belongings from the table. Kylara thought he was not going to acknowledge Wawiriya further when he stopped and closed his eyes, as if in pain. Then, in a strangely dispassionate voice, he spoke again, “You don’t know me, Wawiriya. In the future, I suggest you don’t presume otherwise.” He turned away. “C’mon, Kylara,” he said cheerily, “let’s go get your books.”