Cal cried out in shock and darted forward, managing to catch Jason just before his head hit the ground. Jason was as limp as if he’d been knocked out cold. Cal eased Jason’s head head down and carefully rolled him over onto his side, pillowing Jason’s head on his folded arm.

“Jason?” Cal said, leaning in to look at his friend’s face. He glanced away, seeing a flicker of light out of the corner of his eye. It was the red fabric, still glowing bright as a burning coal on the ground where it had fallen.

Cal reached over and pushed the fabric away. He couldn’t have said why he did it, but instinct made him want to get the glowing fabric away from Jason.

Whether it was the effect of this action or for some other reason, Cal couldn’t tell, but as soon as he pushed the glowing colored fabric away, Jason groaned and moved. He sat up, holding his head and looking around.

“Ugh,” he said, “Cal? What happened? Why’s it so dark?”

“We’re in the rose garden, remember? We came here because it was dark and out of the way, remember?”

“Of course,” Jason said, waving Cal weakly away as he sat up. “I’m fine, I’ll be fine in a minute. Yes, yes, I remember now. But I didn’t expect that to happen. The second time that I used my magic to put color into the fabric it went so easily; I thought that the third time would be even better.”

“What happened?” Cal asked. “What did you feel?”

“I felt like I’d been hit in the head,” Jason replied. “At the end of the spell, when I was getting ready to set the color in place and finalize the magic, something started to go wrong. Remember how I said that when I did the spell for the first time and it felt like I was going to have something pulled out of me if I didn’t keep control of the magic?”

“I remember,” Cal said. “Was it like that again?”

“It was worse,” Jason said. As he spoke, he tried to haul himself to his feet, but didn’t quite manage it. He put a hand on Cal’s arm, and with Cal’s help, he stood. He swayed on his feet for a moment and took a few deep, steadying breaths before releasing his grip on Cal.

“At the end,” Jason said, “I thought that I was going to lose control of the magic for sure.” He shuddered at the memory. “I felt a sort of tugging sensation in my chest, like what I’d felt the first time round. The feeling got worse and worse, just a kind of unpleasant pulling sensation at first, but then it really started to hurt. Then, just as I thought I was going to pass out from the pain, I saw what I had to do to bring the magic back into line, and I did it. The pain vanished immediately, but the moment it did, I felt an enormous crack on the back of my head and then I… I woke up.”

As he finished speaking, Jason reached up and tentatively rubbed at the back of his head as if he expected to feel blood or a bruise there. There was nothing, of course. Jason tilted his head downward as he rubbed his head, and his eye was caught by the last flickering light of the little square of red fabric.

Jason crouched and picked up the fabric sample.

“Where’s the other one?” he said, looking at Cal.

“Here,” Cal said. He took the blue fabric sample from his pocket and held it up.

“And the middle one?” Jason asked.

“I think it’s in your pocket,” Cal replied, pointing.

“Oh, right,” Jason laughed. He reached into his pocket and took out the second of the three samples that they had managed to put color into, the yellow one. “Come on,” he said, “let’s go into the light and have a proper look.”

“You sure you’re feeling up to moving just now?” Cal said.

“I’m okay,” Jason said. “I feel kind of shaken up, but physically I’m okay. I’d like to go and sit down somewhere for a bit, though, I think.”

“Of course,” Cal said, leading them back toward the main path. There was a big wooden bench not far from the spirit lamp that illuminated the entrance to the rose garden, and they walked over and took a seat, Jason leaning his head back on the bench and closing his eyes.

“I feel rough,” Jason admitted. “Wow, I feel like I have a grade one hangover. I only had two beers!”

“I wish we’d been a bit more careful,” Cal said. “I realize now that there’s no way we should’ve been experimenting with new magic after drinking.”

“You think that was what caused the problem?” Jason asked.

Cal shrugged. “I don’t know for sure,” he said, “but it seems possible. After all, everyone knows that you shouldn’t do magic when you’re drunk.”

“We’re hardly drunk,” Jason protested. “We only had two beers, and that was with food, too.”

“Still,” Cal said, “it’s a lesson to both of us to be a bit more careful in future.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” Jason agreed, a little reluctantly, and Cal knew that such caution grated against Jason’s impulsive nature. “Whatever the reason was for me ending up feeling like that, I’m not keen to have it happen again. If this is the only way to get color into your spider web fabric, then you’re going to need a whole team of color weavers, and they’re going to need to be very careful.”

He sat forward, put his head in his hands for a moment, then rubbed his face with his palms. “I do feel a bit better,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Come on, I have an idea. Instead of looking at the fabric now, in this yellow spirit light, let’s walk back over to Elm Street and see if we can find somewhere quiet indoors.”

Cal readily agreed to this, and they strolled slowly together back to the main road. On Elm Street they found a little cafe selling tea, coffee, and light snacks. It was not unusual to find such a place open after hours, since many of the inhabitants of the city were people who might want to have a night out but didn’t necessarily want to drink alcohol or have a heavy meal.

Jason and Cal headed into the first place they found, a small, cozy establishment with little round tables widely spaced apart, lit by good quality candles on the tables and in a chandelier in the ceiling.

There was a fire burning in an open hearth, and a robust-looking woman with a cheery, bright countenance working behind the small bar. She welcomed them both with a smile and they took seats by the window.

“Coffees?” the owner asked, coming over to the table to take their orders.

“Yes, two black coffees, please,” Jason said. “And something sweet, if you have it.”

“I have some cheesecakes,” she replied. “Strawberry, lemon, apple, or plain vanilla?”

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“Oh, lemon, please,” Jason said with a smile.

“I’ll have the same,” Cal said, his mouth watering at the idea of lemon cheesecake. “And could you bring us a jug of water too?”

“Coming right up,” the owner said, and bustled off to see to the orders.

“Well,” Cal said, sitting back in his chair. “This evening hasn’t quite turned out how I expected.”

Jason laughed. “Does it ever, when we’re dealing with magic?”

“I guess not,” Cal said with a smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, though.”

“I’ve a bit of a sore head,” Jason said, “but yes, aside from that, I’m okay. Let’s see the fabric.”

Cal reached into his pocket and pulled out the red and the blue samples. Jason took the yellow one from his pocket and laid it beside the other two.

“They really are good,” Cal said, looking at the deep color in the light of the candles. “Now that I see them in this light, I can really see the depth of the colors. It’s amazing, like pure pigment.”

“It’s certainly the best result I’ve ever achieved with my color weaving magic,” Jason agreed. “I’ve never seen anything quite this good come out of my efforts before. I mean, I’m not doing myself down, I’ve always been able to achieve satisfactory results, but no more than satisfactory. These are… well, it’s hard to find a word for them. I’ll say this, it makes me wish I’d put a bit more focus into color weaving, rather than putting all my efforts into specializing in stone singing. Imagine being able to achieve results like this all the time!”

Cal was picking the fabric swatches up one by one and holding them to the light, watching the way the light from the candles flickered and ran across the surface of the fabric. “I think it’s something to do with the fabric itself,” he said. “I don’t think it’s just the color, or your skill, that makes the effect. I think even a specialist color weaver would struggle to get these kinds of results in other materials.”

As they were speaking, the owner of the cafe came back over, carrying a tray with their drinks and cakes. She set the food and coffees down carefully on the table, then caught sight of the fabric swatches.

“My, they’re nice,” she said, leaning over to look more closely. “What amazing colors!” She seemed to recall herself in the moment and stood back. “Oh, sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to intrude.” She smiled warmly at Cal, who smiled back.

“That’s okay,” he said. “They are good, aren’t they?”

“I’d give a lot to have a coat in that blue,” she said, nodding. “I’ve not seen anything like that before. Is the material new?”

“It is,” Cal nodded. “There’s not much of it about yet, but it should be available soon, with any luck.”

“When it is, will you let me know?” she asked. “You can reach me here by telepathogram. Honestly, that’s really good. I’d love to know when I can buy some of it.”

A few other customers, seeing the owner’s interest, were looking over, but Cal smiled at them and turned away, making clear with his gesture that he didn’t want to discuss his samples with the whole shop.

Jason raised his eyebrows at Cal and took a bite of cheesecake. Cal returned the gesture and ate his cake too, then gathered the samples up and slipped them into his pocket. Clearly, the very presence of this stuff was likely to attract some attention, but thankfully it seemed that once the samples were no longer actually on display, the people lost interest.

Cal and Jason drank their coffees and ate their cakes, then drank most of the pitcher of water as well. The color was coming back into Jason’s face, and he looked much better after his fainting fit.

“How are you now?” Cal asked as they finished up.

“Much better,” Jason confirmed. “Shall we go see…”

“Let’s,” Cal said, cutting Jason off before he could say Maddie. Cal had just realized that there was at least one other customer who was paying a bit more attention to Cal than he would have liked. This was a lean, ferret-like fellow with small eyes, a short, stubby nose, and ears that stuck out from the sides of his head like the handles on a milk jug.

Cal could see the tip of a pencil sticking out from behind one of the man’s ears, and that, combined with the notebook on the table, suggested that he might be a journalist for one of Jutlyn’s many muck-raking papers. As Cal watched, the man took the pencil from his ear, scribbled a note, then looked up at Cal. As soon as he realized Cal was watching him, he glanced furtively away again.

“Come on,” Cal said. He took a coin from his pouch and left it on the table for the friendly owner and waved to her as he and Jason left.

“What’s the hurry?” Jason asked as Cal strode off down the street at pace.

“There was someone in there trying to listen in on our conversation,” Cal said. “Didn’t you see him? He was watching us and scribbling in a notebook. I think he was a journalist. I don’t want him to follow us. If word gets out before we want it to, it could be difficult.”

“A pity the owner saw the fabric,” Jason said as they left the cafe.

Cal shook his head. “I’m not so worried about her,” he said. “That’s the kind of legitimate interest that’s not going to do us any harm. Some reporter, though, that’s a different story. The cafe owner is just a legitimate potential customer. That reporter might find it’s in his interests to find out more about who we are and what we are, and if he found out we had an unregistered magical product, he might get us in trouble.”

They were walking rapidly together down Elm Street away from Blinkset Street. As Cal finished speaking, he glanced back over his shoulder. There, in the street behind them, was the evil-eyed journalist. The man ducked into a doorway just a moment too slow, and Cal saw his distinctive ears silhouetted against a street light.

“He’s following us!” Cal said, annoyed.

“Down here,” Jason said, urging Cal down a narrow lane between two buildings. “Come on, I know this area. We can double back and lose him this way.”

They hurried down the narrow alley together, past the back doors of restaurants and cafes and high-end shops. The cobblestones were old, poorly laid, and slippery, and Cal had to be careful if he wanted to keep his footing.

“Follow me,” Jason hissed, and to Cal’s surprise Jason ducked into a deep doorway, turned the handle on an old wooden door and slipped inside. Cal followed without question and found that they were on a narrow landing in a dimly lit stairway, with a blank wall in front of them, worn stone steps leading downward on their left, and a flight of steep, narrow steps leading upward to the right.

Cal was about to ask what this place was and how Jason knew about it, but as soon as he began to speak Jason hissed, “shh,” and put a hand on Cal’s arm. He led Cal down the stone steps carefully.

They descended about twenty steps until they were in a dank, low corridor full of the unpleasantly dead silence that comes with being completely underground.

“What is this place?” Cal asked once they were at the bottom of the steps.

“Old maintenance tunnel,” Jason said shortly. “It leads along the top layer of Jutlyn’s underway. There are hundreds of these all through the city. They’re used for access to the sewers, mostly, but this section is all but abandoned.”

“How do you know about it?” Cal asked, looking at his friend in surprise.

Jason shrugged, an innocent expression on his face. “I helped build it,” he said. “There was a whole gang of stone singers employed in the digging of a new section of tunnel north-west of here, and as part of the work we had to haul stone through these old corridors. I was interested and… well, let’s just say I explored a bit more than was strictly needed for my work.”

Cal laughed. “I’m glad to hear it, but I have to admit I’m not too comfortable down here. I never did like being underground at the best of times. How do we get out?”

“Just along here,” Jason said. “This is the way out.”

While they’d been speaking, Jason had led Cal along a straight length of tunnel. Now, they rounded a sharp corner and climbed a flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs there was another door. This one had a latch on the inside. Jason lifted the latch, opened the door a crack, and peered out.

“All clear,” he said, and slipped through the door.

Cal followed behind and blinked in surprise. He’d stepped out of a little door right next to the entrance of Randall’s auction house. The auction house was behind them, and across the square was Blinkset Street.

“Brilliant!” Cal exclaimed.

Jason was grinning, well pleased with himself. “And look over there,” he said, nudging Cal and pointing.

The little square in front of them was busy with people. The auction, it seemed, had ended, and the audience were heading out. Through the crowd, Cal saw the little reporter.

The man was standing with his hands on his hips, staring from left to right down Blinkset Street with bewildered confusion in every line of his stance.

“Come on,” Jason said. “Let’s pop into the auction house and see if we can see Randall. By the time we’ve done that, our journalist friend will be long gone.”