“I glimpse you’ve made your decision.”

We’d found him, a ways from the alley and chatting sparsely among about five guards, and patient-looking Adwyn. The guards looked new faces; but among them you saw a familiar black-tongued cliff-dweller, that sneering, bamboo-plated prefect, and that pink drake. The military adviser had stood between Gwynt and the still-talking prefect, and might have been listening to what the prefect was saying; but the orange drake had broken away and now padded toward us.

Beside me, Hinte was glancing between me and the adviser, and on the other side of her, Digrif was waving at the guards.

I flicked my tongue at the orange drake. “Why do you say that?”

”Would you be returning with Gronte-wyre if you two held any outstanding issues?” Adwyn asked. “Whatever tensions there were have settled, have they not?”

I frowned. “It doesn’t feel settled.”

Hinte looked hard at the orange drake, asked him, “Do you think Kinri is working with the thieves?”

”There are more likely suspects.”

”Yes or no, do you believe Kinri-gyfar betrayed us?”

”The world doesn’t grant a glassy yes or no,” Adwyn said. “Remain cautious until we’ve found who truly is behind it.”

She flicked her tongue. “You have no idea, do you?” Turning to me, Hinte peered for a breath. Then she nodded once at me, and quickly looked away.

Adwyn looked between the black-cloaked wiver and me. Behind him, the five guards continued talking without him: Gwynt starting to talk loosely, and the guards all listening, aside from the prefect, who stared at Adwyn and looked to have been stopped mid-sentence. The pink guard looked between the rest and us, laying down, and he grinned almost savagely.

Adwyn spoke in a precise, serene tone, the very one he’d used when asking for debriefs. “Hinte-ychy, why don’t you tell Kinri how you really feel?”

Hinte scowled. “Why don’t you?”

The orange drake smirked, and looked at me. “I think,” he said, “that your saying she doesn’t trust you hurt her, on some level.” He looked at the spaces between us. “And,” he continued, “discovering that you were a kind of traitor, or more, that you were capable of contemplating murder, or even following through with it, perhaps it scared her.”

”Not,” he quickly added, “on a visceral level, but a more abstract sort. As if a pet snake was found playing clarinet, or a tentacle snail began shuffling and dealing cards. It’s... unsettling, I’d call it.”

I glanced at the scowling wiver beside me.

She growled. “I am not afraid, and I am not hurt. I had been baffled that someone whom I owe my life to would claim I do not trust her. I am angry that someone would hide something like this from me. And I hate that someone’s brother would give them such a lowly order. I am not afraid, and I am not hurt.”

The black-cloaked figure whipped around. I hopped back and snapped out a wing to stop her.

”Hinte⁠ ⁠—”

”Quiet.”

She pushed past my wing and there really wasn’t anything I could do. Hinte started off, then paused.

Without turning, she asked, “May I go, Kinri?”

I waved my tongue. “Um, I can’t stop you?”

She stalked off at that, alone.

”Where is she going?”

”To be alone, most likely. Or perhaps to find Rhyfel the younger.” The military adviser turned to the guards behind him, who still chatted⁠ ⁠—⁠ even the prefect had joined back in at some point.

With Adwyn having stepped toward us, we could see two plain-dwellers who were out of sight: a tall one with spiky horns and a longer one whose face might have felt the wrong end of a club a time too many.

The military adviser waved at the second one. “Follow her, obliquely. Tell me where she goes.”

The guard nodded after a few beats, and tapped wings with the other guards⁠ ⁠—⁠ but I jerked my gaze to Adwyn.

”What! You said she wants to be alone. So you send someone to follow her?”

”You forget, Kinri-ychy, that this is bigger than personal drama. This concerns Gwymr/Frina itself, and you three can still be suspected. Furthermore, Hinte still has an unclairified connection to Aurisiuf.”

Adwyn was looking down at me. It wasn’t hard⁠ ⁠—⁠ everyone was taller than me⁠ ⁠—⁠ but I couldn’t help but notice it, here. “There is being nice, and then there is neglecting to consider what Hinte would honestly have to lose in allying herself against Gwymr/Frina.”

”Her friends?”

”I’m looking at both of them. Would you two truly choose Gwymr over Hinte?”

”Um... no. Not at all.”

”Well, probably not. Friends are important, and Hinte wouldn’t do anything evil.”

I asked, “What about her home? She’d lose that, too.”

”Her home is as much the forests as it is the cliffs, if not more. She grew up in the forests, and came here when she was already closer to adulthood. And... Gwymr is not welcoming to outsiders and loathes alchemists. I suspect this would diminish her fondness of the land of glass and secrets.”

Digrif flicked his tongue. “Why are you accusing everyone, Adwyn-sofran? First it was Kinri, then Hinte, but they haven’t done anything.”

”I am not accusing, I am being cautious. There is no clear indicator that Hinte is guilty or innocent. There are, however, reasons to believe she could be involved, and those are reason to be cautious.”

My voice chilled. “There are reasons to believe you could be guilty. We have nothing to prove anyone is involved.” I very deliberately glanced aside, and dropped my voice to a murmur. “One may be forgiven for wondering whether you are doing this for more than appearing to be active and effective.”

”Kinri, for your sake I will repeat myself: this is a matter of Frinan security, not petty drama.”

Digrif looked confusedly between the orange drake and me.

I didn’t release the chill in my voice, even though I should. “So Hinte stalks away in anger because you forgot what tact was, and now it’s a matter of Frinan security.”

Adwyn looked, peered, at me for a little bit. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “With much respect⁠ ⁠—⁠ which, I suppose may be more than you deserve⁠ ⁠—⁠ I do not answer to you, and you hold no authority to speak of. The decision is mine, and the decision is made.”

I mirrored his sigh, and my disappointment was real as I said, loud, “Well, I’ve tried. When your spy has his face half-exploded⁠ ⁠—⁠ I suppose the decision is yours.”

I saw the pause in the stride of the spy, who’d slinked away maybe twenty steps already. I watched him step forward slower, with more hesitation, as complex looks crawled over Adwyn’s face. And the pink-scaled guard was looking at me. I cleared my brilles, but glanced back to Adwyn as he spoke.

He was saying, stiffly, “Should that happen, it will have been your friend’s choice to commit crimes and reap the punishment.”

The reply rushed at the heels of his. “That isn’t what happened after the incident at the Berwem gate last night,” I said.

He didn’t yell. “So you think that simply because her grandfather is⁠ ⁠—⁠ who he is, Hinte should be above laws?” He tossed his head. “No. I will endeavor to punish anyone who interferes with the workings of this⁠ ⁠—⁠ situation. No matter⁠ ⁠—”

”And if⁠ ⁠—”

”Screaming fires, will you cool it?” The pink guard⁠ ⁠—⁠ Ceian⁠ ⁠—⁠ had broken from the rest and arrived behind Adwyn. “Blinking silly⁠ ⁠—⁠ look,” they said, whisking a wing at a butte maybe a dozen wingbeats away. On that butte sat a dark form holding a vague light form that could be a scroll. We couldn’t make out exactly who this was⁠ ⁠—⁠ but I don’t think we needed to.

As we all looked over, the figure jerked up, leaping and slipped out of sight on a glider.

I grinned. “See? She’s not doing anything.”

Adwyn tilted. “Then tell me, why is she running away?”

The pink guard said, “Blueface, why are you arguing when Adwyn’s already given the order? The drake’s long gone.” Then, in a tone that had lost all of its edge, “Sofrani, why are you bothering with this argument?”

A cryptic smirk. “I have a certain interest in Kinri. I would like to see what she is capable of when she isn’t putting on acts.”

”Ah, so strange adviser stuff.” The pink drake stretched their neck, and looked between all of us. “Listen, boss said we were waiting for something important from the hall, so we’ll be here a ring. Jarce found some decks in his bag and we’re going to start up some card games. You want in, Sofrani? I’ll even let your certain interest go first, and pick her opponent.”

Adwyn turned to me. “Well, Kinri? Care for the diversion?”

I peered at the orange drake. The fire that had me speaking a chill tone, leaping to Hinte’s defense, still burnt in my glands. I could still reach for that dewing, find something biting to fling at the military adviser. But... I could see farther than a few strides ahead, I just deliberately didn’t. They were both practiced habits. And when it came to what I wanted, at its simplest, Adwyn did want to help me. If there was something to be gained from attacking him, I’d do it with more planning.

I gave him a cleanly-cut smile, and there was no fire behind it. Adwyn was a drake of rules, and maybe I didn’t like those rules, or what they led to, but I could respect that they didn’t come from a place of malice.

I told him, “Um, sure.”

Ceian whistled, and grinned at me. “Pretty. So, name of the game is Wicked Licks. Who do you want to go up against first? I’d go for your boy with the twisted horns over there. He’s easy pickings.”

I hummed. “I’ll go with...” I smirked at the drake. “Adwyn.”

Adwyn smirked back. “I can’t imagine picking me would end well for you.”

* * *