The next morning, Dwayne snuck down to the kitchen, grabbed some bread and cheese and slipped out of Sanford’s front door. He hadn’t slept at all, at first because he’d been plowing through the lecture notes that Rodion had somehow procured and then because the question of what was in Fluid, Vapors, Gases and Their Myriad Applications was far too interesting for him to fall asleep. As such, he could have snuck out earlier but Rodion had been replacing the cellar door until the early hours and Dwayne had not wanted to deal with any more of the steward’s concern. With the steward finally asleep, Dwayne could go to the Tower and, with any luck, find out what was in the stolen book.
Unfortunately, riding carriages regularly had been a terrible way to learn how to navigate the city. When he reached Nieder Street, Dwayne had to stop to try and figure out where he was. Although he couldn’t see it, he knew the Palace was behind him, which meant the big hulking buildings in front of him were part of the Bilges and not the Exchange. To his left were more warehouses, numerous carts, the occasional pedestrian and to his right were trees, carriages, zero pedestrians.
He went right and resumed ignoring the protests of his body, which hadn’t yet recovered from the robbery. Perhaps he should take it easy because while his time here in Bradford hadn’t yet reached the thrilling heights of obliterating a section of jungle, if things like the robbery kept happening, it soon would.
He failed to dodge the splash of muddy water that accompanied a carriage halting next to him.
“Young Kalan,” called out a familiar voice.
“Thadden.” Dwayne shook mud off his ankles. “You’re well.”
“Despite your thoughtless actions.” Thadden stomped out of the carriage. “How dare you leave me lying on the ground.”
Despite the inaccuracy of the verb “leave”, Dwayne’s response came out in an even tone. “I had to chase down the thief. They took something that was mine.”
“Oh,” a sneer touched Thadden’s lips, “your misguided attempt to compromise with criminals failed? I’m shocked.”
Dwayne crossed his arms. “It was worth a try, Baron.”
“Well, the results speak for themselves.” Thadden drew himself up. “However, I am also appalled at the abhorrent treatment I received at the hands of your staff. When I regained consciousness, that puffed-up brat of a guard of yours refused to answer any of my questions, and your steward didn’t see fit to call a carriage for me. I had to find my own way home!”
Dwayne could explain that Mei and Rodion worked for Lord Kalan and that it wasn’t their job to take care of strangers. He could also go on a tirade about how if Thadden had employed Akunna instead of enslaving her, maybe she would have collected him before the night was out. He could, but if he did, he’d have to find a place to put his rage that wasn’t Thadden’s face.
“I’m glad to see that you managed to do so,” Dwayne managed through clenched teeth. “My apologies for any troubles that must have caused you. I’m on my way to-”
“And what’s this about you missing classes yesterday?” Thadden’s finger thumped against Dwayne’s chest. “That was not a part of our agreement.”
“What are you talking about?” Dwayne stepped out of range of the finger. “Class attendance was not one of the requirements.”
“It was implied. After all, how could the Royal Sorcerer keep an apprentice who disregards the main mission of the Magisterium?”
It would be so easy just to shove a fireball into the man’s teeth. ““Do you not want the job anymore? I can find someone else.”
“Young Kalan,” the baron’s hands came up quickly, “there’s no need to do anything hasty. I’m just looking out for you. All I’m saying is that a proper mage devotes herself to emulating the foundational principles of magic and leaves squabbling in the dirt to the laity.” He offered Dwayne a smile. “Let’s move past this disagreement and agree that preserving the peace and prosperity Soura has enjoyed these many years is paramount.”
Even after Dwayne took a slow deep breath and allowed his rage fade into embers, the best response he could manage to this inane statement was a brief nod.
“Excellent.” Thadden straightened his robes. “By the way, were you able to find out anything out about the thieves?”
“Well,” said Dwayne far too brightly, “I found out that they murdered the windsong messenger.”
The baron froze. “How do you know that?”
Dwayne let sugar saturate his words. “The Tower’s Head Guard Mei has been working on solving the murders with a Scrytive Vogt from the Chamber. She was on duty that night when they attacked and recognized the weapon one of them used as a stiletto.”
“A stiletto.” Thadden bowed his head. “Poor Juanelo.”
Dwayne’s eyebrows raised. “You knew the victim? Have you gone down to the Chamber and identified the body? Mei mentioned that a family member would do it, but a second look would-”
“Oh, I didn’t know him.” Thadden shook his head for emphasis.
Dwayne blinked. “Then how did you know his name?”
“Well,” Thadden shrugged, “it’s a well known fact that all one has to do in order to keep abreast of all that happens in Bradford is listen to the Her Highness’s lay clerks during lunch, which they regularly take with the Chamber’s clerks.”
Dwayne’s ribs squeezed. Cross-office lunches sounded like fun. “Is that all you wanted to talk about, Baron?”
“Oh, yes.” Thadden turned to his carriage then paused. “Wait, there is one more thing. It has come to my attention that Lady Pol will be your Attestor at tomorrow night’s Rite.”
“Why?” Attestors made sure that attestees didn’t cheat. “Why aren’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Thadden entered his carriage, “but she is determined to get in our way. Don’t let her.” He rapped on the side of the carriage. “And don’t miss any more classes!”
As he watched Thadden’s carriage roll away, Dwayne did all he could not to scream. All he wanted to do was to quietly study magic, not deal with the fallout of Lord Kalan’s abdication or manage Thadden’s shifting demands or try to divine whatever Lady Pol’s plan was.
But there was nothing he could do at the moment about any of that so he resumed walking to the Tower.
***
When Mei arrived in his office, Charlie grabbed his coat and a file folder and said, “Good, you’re here. Wagner just dropped her off in the interrogation room.”
He led her down the hall and paused in front of a door reinforced with thick iron bands. “Nod if you think that she’s the one who attacked Sanford.”
Then he shouldered the door open, allowing Mei to step into a cold stone room whose walls were decorated with rusted metal mounts and hooks. One of three stools in the center of the room sat a short, wiry woman in a fashionable light teal suit, her dusty brown hair held in a tight bun, her cheekbones red from sun exposure.
“This is a torture chamber, is it not?” Tiffany P. Burks’s eyes flicked to the walls. “I mean it doesn’t have all of the necessities, sure, but you could say it has the foundation in, haha.”
Mei caught Charlie’s eye and shook her head. While Burks and the windsong thief seemed to be about the same height, and Burks’s burnt cheekbones screamed windsong, that soft lilting accent didn’t match Dwayne’s description of the windsong thief’s voice nor did Burks’s dog-like jittery energy, which the thief had completely lacked.
“Hello, Miss Burks.” Charlie sat down and gestured for Mei to do the same. “My name is Charles Vogt, this is Mei Ma of the Royal Sorcerer’s Office, and I assure you that this room is for asking questions, not demanding answers. The Chamber does not approve of the use of saws, pears or wheels in its scrytives’ work.”
“That’s almost too bad. I’m curious as to what a pear is. By the way,” the windsong showed off a plain silvery ring on her finger, “it’s Mrs. Burks. Just been hitched a week now, but,” she winked, “I got to get myself into the habit, you know.”
“Congratulations.” Charlie opened up a file folder and made a show of making a note. “You kept your own family name?”
“I have to make clear my antecedents. In Cairnborne, the Burks are a prominent family, who’ve sent at least one mage to the Academy every generation.”
“Impressive.” Charlie’s eyes lifted from the file. “I also see that you’re the first wind Qe in your family? Your… antecedents were all water Qe.”
Burk’s shifted uneasily in her chair. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” asked Mei.
“My partner here is new to Soura, Mrs. Burks. See, Mei,” Charlie’s gaze continued to pin Mrs. Burks to her seat, “here in Soura, a mother passes down her magic to her daughter, and not just her ability to do magic, but also her specific kind of magic. Take your friend Miss Lucchesi. Her mother was wind Qe. Her mother’s mother was wind Qe as was her mother and her mother and so on and so forth. It’s how it works here.”
Mei frowned. “What about Maggie? She’s nQe.”
“The nQe stuff is more… arbitrary, but her mother is water Qe and she’s water nQe so it all fits.”
Mei had more questions, like why Lady Gallus and Lord Kalan, brother and sister presumably, didn’t have the same magic, but instead she asked Burks, “So, your mother was wind Qe?”
“Again, what does that have to do with anything?” Burks crossed her arms. “Did you bring me here to question me about my heritage?”
“Not at all,” said Charlie. “I was just explaining to Mei why, instead of dousing water in Cairnborne like your fully licensed sister, you’re here in Bradford begging the local Vanurian contingent for work.”
Burks stared. “You even looked into Wendy…”
“We’re don’t care about your heritage, Mrs. Burks. We’re here because we need a motive for murder.”
“Murder!” Burks paled. “What murder? Who’s murdered? Not Wendy, I got a windsong from her this morning, and there’s no way you could have heard faster than me. Do you think I did it? For a real license or something? I mean, it would have been nice to have a real license, but everyone knows you gotta have an in with the Queen to get one.”
“Which means that you’re working under a provisional license?” Charlie took note. “Tell us more about that.”
A tingle zipped up Mei’s spine. The scrytive had simultaneously shifted the conversation to what he’d wanted to know while also reminding Burks of how much power he had.
Burks frowned. “I don’t see what my provy has to do with anything.”
“You share three things with the murder victim.” Charlie counted on his hands. “You were both windsong, you were both unable to get a real license, and you both spent significant amounts of time on the other side of the wall.”
“The other side of the… The Plague District?” Burks paled. “Oh, you’re talking about Juan, ain’t ya? I just thought he were taking his time coming back from Vanuria.”
It took Mei a moment to decipher Burks’s suddenly thick accent. “Why do you think we’re talking about him?”
“Because I heard that a windsong were, was, killed a few days ago, and he wasn’t there to kick I and Orlaith out of VanQuart. It is him, isn’t it?”
“It is,” said Charlie.
Burks cupped her hands over her chest. “Cups and crackers.”
“You knew him?” asked Mei.
“Aye, I mean yes. I mean, we’d once gone out once or twice, but we liked rivalry more than relationship. Once, I boasted about taking a job all the way from here to Ponne, and the next day, he declared he were heading out to Ti Mei and promised to make it back before me. When we both got back, we were so exhausted, we ended up just flopping all over each other instead of proper… well… you know.” She coughed. “We broke it off soon after.” Her voice went quiet. “Does his family know?”
“His sister picked up his body this morning,” said Charlie.
“Good.” Burks cleared her throat. “Good. They’ll want to send him.”
“I don’t understand,” said Charlie.
“Some part of them has to go home or they can’t rest,” explained Mei.
Burks nodded. “That was Juan’s personal mission, getting as many people back home to Vanuria so they could rest in peace.”
“Did that mean he crossed the border into Vanuria regularly?” asked Charlie.
“Not regularly. The Plague District isn’t that bad. They’ve got fewer dead infants than the Bilges by a long shot.”
“Is crossing the border something a provisional license grants you?”
“No, that’s a privilege that can only be held by a holder of a real license. When I’ve done border runs, I’d pass off the package to a local courier who goes the rest of the way. Otherwise, your girl would be made an arrow’s pincushion.”
“But Juanelo could cross?” asked Mei.
“I never asked him how, but he is, was, Vanurian, and he was a pretty smooth talker. Maybe that’s how he got through.”
“Still, I wonder how he got a provisional license in the first place.” Charlie closed his file folder. “Or, to be honest, how you got one because, despite that excellent suit, you don’t look like you could afford the fee.”
“Right.” Burks’s eyes slid away. “Well. Let’s say I did a favor for a noble.“
“What kind of favor?”
“Nothing majorly criminal.” Burks pulled at her collar.
Charlie smiled. “We’re not going to charge you with anything, Mrs. Burks. We’re here to ask questions.”
“Right. Well. Let’s say, hypothetically, that a noble with a proper license trade a provisional one for providing the service of finding out if his husband was sleeping with another man. Hypothetically, you’re just a girl from some insignificant town, so he won’t believe your word and will demand proof, and so, hypothetically, you find said husband’s paramour’s schedule near an open window and just borrow it for just long enough to know for sure. For a provisional license, what poor, half-disowned Academy graduate could resist? Particularly if she’d heard that sometimes more was required.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Because Charlie looked too scandalized to talk, Mei asked, “Was more required of Juanelo?”
Burks nodded. “At first, his sponsor made a similar deal: one favor, one license, but then Juanelo wanted to cross the border, and the deal became one favor, one crossing. Usually, all Juanelo had to do was let his sponsor read the messages he carried.” Burk’s’s lips curled. “Sometimes, it was more.”
“You cannot be serious,” Charlie blurted out. “Windsong are supposed to be trustworthy.”
“We are, mostly,” Mrs. Burks looked down at her knees, “but we need to eat, and Juanelo, well, he had to get his people home. It was his calling he said.”
Charlie’s voice shook as he asked, “Do you know who his sponsor was?”
“No. Sorry.”
Still, it was all starting to add up for Mei. “Where did he cross the border?”
“Walton, I think.”
That could be nothing, could be chance, but Mei didn’t think so. It fit too well. “I think Mrs. Burks can go.”
Charlie frowned, but when Mei nodded, he said, “Looks like we’re done here, Mrs. Burks.” He opened the door. “Thank you for coming in and, again, congratulations on your nuptials.”
When the door closed behind the relieved windsong, Charlie turned to Mei. “Why did I just let her leave?”
“Juanelo was the windsong Lord Kalan hired to carry messages to Dwayne,” answered Mei.
“How do you know that?”
“Because Juanelo was going to the Noble District when he was died.” Mei stood up and paced. “That’s where Sanford is. He also traveled to Walton regularly, where Lord Kalan is.”
“There are other nobles in Walton.”
“Not many.” Mei remembered who Dwayne had had to deal with after Sir Marcus’s funeral. “And they don’t have estates here. Also, Dwayne got clothes from Lord Kalan before the Autumn Session.”
“I don’t see how-”
“Clothes travel slower than messages, but Dwayne has not heard from Lord Kalan since the murder. That’s why Lady Pol surprised us at the Autumn Session.”
“Because she heard from Lord Kalan himself.” Charlie frowned. “Couldn’t she be Juanelo’s sponsor?”
Mei paused. “I… don’t know. Maybe. It also could be Baron Thadden. He wanted a new Royal Sorcerer.”
“And now he might be Royal Sorcerer.”
Mei waved that away. “We don’t have anything pointing to him or her. But Juanelo’s death keeps Dwayne in the dark.”
“You think that Juanelo’s mysterious sponsor had him killed?”
“No, I don’t think that. A star wolf doesn’t prefer violence.”
Charlie stared. “I’m sorry? Aren’t they predators?”
Mei nodded. “Predators don’t like violence. They use violence to hunt and to defend against other, bigger predators. Juanelo’s killer must be small to his sponsor and so violence was the only way.”
“Sponsor.” Charlie made a face. “That sounds too nice, too supportive. These people are making thralls out of honest Sourans and forcing them perform criminal acts. If they weren’t nobles or merchant, I’d…” He blew out a breath. “Well, I’d do something. However, since it sounds like we can’t let Orlaith Jung off the hook, I’ll track him down. I’ll contact you when I do. That windsong you sent had a two-for one deal that I had to take.”
“You can send it to Sanford.” Until then, Mei had another question for a certain roofrunner.
As she left the Chamber, Mei amended her statement about predators. Sometimes, very rarely, a predator didn’t use violence just for food or defense. Sometimes, they just liked the taste of blood.
***
Still troubled by his encounter with Thadden, Dwayne entered the Tower, stepped around the reception desk, and then went downstairs to the basement. As a small flame winked into existence to light the room, he stopped by the workspace he shared with Magdala.
Only a week had passed since he’d last been here, since the night Magdala had offered to make his dream come true, but it felt like years. He should ask Magdala how the project was going. She should have made decent progress by now. After all, she only had professors making demands of her time. If he could just find an hour, he could ask her to lunch and…
“We can’t risk that future,” Lord Gallus had said.
Dwayne wasn’t hoping for anything more. If he tried, he’d have to let his emotions run free, and he could not afford that. Anyway, it was just a meal. They’d shared dozens of meal without anything happening and besides, there would be people around, not like down here in the basement where two people had to sit side by side, their bodies almost touching, each conversation a chance to…
Perhaps it would be safer if he just sent Magdala a note via Miss Lucchesi instead.
Sweeping past the table, Dwayne went to the pedestal, summoned the Terminal Tome with the License Key, and started to flip through the index. Fourth Committee. Fourth Committee. Fourth Committee. Wow, they’d been prolific.
After flipping through several pages, Dwayne finally found it: Sixth Committee - Fluid, Vapors, Gases and Their Myriad Applications.
He tapped the entry. “Show me.”
A block of text appeared:
> TITLE: Fluid, Vapors, Gases and Their Myriad Applications
>
> AUTHORS: Sixth Committee (Brooks, Sallow, Loughty and Assc)
>
> STATUS: Collected
>
> STANDING ORDERS: Any copies found outside of Her Majesty’s Library must be destroyed forthwith.
DESCRIPTION: As the precursor to Pennoyer’s Index of Alch. Reac., the text describes the foundational theories essential to the thaumaturgical breakthroughs in agriculture, pharmacology, mining, and textiles that happened during the Latter Golden Age. However, the section of the book that warns of the alchemical effects of certain nQe spells on living beings turned out to have martial applications. One example is a vesicant gas of nitrogen and chlorine admixture that was used at Paecergad on Queen Ella’s orders. The consequences of that event and others resulted in Queen Ella’s successor Queen Lyna ordering the texts wide spread collection and destruction.
Queen Ella and Paecergad sounded familiar. Dwayne dismissed the Tome and went upstairs to the second floor library. With any luck, he’d found what he needed here and not have to deal with Magisterium’s head archivist, who had a habit of shadowing him in the stacks. It didn’t take him long to find a history book, which he could thanked Mei for.
The book’s entry on Paecergad stated that, while Soura had been carving away bits of the Yaniti Empire ever since Queen Rhea ascension to the throne, Paecergad and the rest of the Empire’s desert strongholds were too well garrisoned for Soura to take. To break the stalemate, Queen Ella created the Sixth Committee and ordered it to find a solution. Two years later, it discovered the vesicant and deployed at Paecergad under Queen Ella’s direct oversight. To quote the book, this deployment “resulted in an estimated eighty-seven percent enemy casualty rate and an expeditious surrender.”
Eighty-seven percent. Feeling numb, Dwayne looked up the word “vesicant” in a dictionary.
vesicant n. - A substance that causes blistering of the skin or mucous membrane.
Horrifying images of skin blistering and eyes bleeding screamed through Dwayne’s mind. All that had happened while a queen and her mages watched and waited. There was no way that had happened just at Paecergad. After all, even the names of the other desert fortresses had been wiped from the map.
Having met other mage families at this point, Dwayne wasn’t surprised that the Kalans had had Fluid, Vapors, Gases and Their Myriad Applications in their possession. From their point of view, it was a great addition to the family collection, full of secret tricks to help with agriculture and textiles. They just had to make sure that only a few in the family knew about it, like the family head or any nQe mages born to the family. Dwayne could only hope that the dangerous section had been removed or redacted.
Because that’s what the thieves wanted. It was possible that they were trying to corner the market on carrots or the color periwinkle, but it was hard to imagine either of those were worth breaking into house after house, night after night. No it was delusional to think that the theives who’d stolen texts with mere hints of weapons like this vesicant had such mundane goals.
He had to tell the Queen about this.
After replacing the books on their respective shelfs, Dwayne returned to the basement to find a pen and paper. As he wrote out his report to the Queen, a thought occurred to him: Thadden probably wanted to know about this. However, despite the baron’s stated status as his ally, Dwayne didn’t want to tell him. If pressed, Dwayne could spout excuses like the baron did not really seem interested in magic, had published no work regarding either thaumaturgical theory or practice, had protested Dwayne’s sharing of his own spell vials. The fact that Thadden was a slave owner was a strong reason too, but it, and all the others, were just parts of a simple truth: Dwayne didn’t like Thadden very much.
Luckily, it wasn’t Dwayne’s decision. The Throne’s standing orders were to collect or destroy the book, the effects of those orders were to wipe the existence of Fluid, Vapors, Gases and Their Myriad Applications from the world, and as such only those involved in the collection and destruction, only those who were a part of the Royal Sorcerer’s Office, only Dwayne and Mei, needed to know. Baron Otto Thadden didn’t work for the Tower. If he wanted to know about the book or the vesicant, he’d have to become the Royal Sorcerer and find out himself.
At any rate, Dwayne was done here, so he headed for the door. If he rushed, despite his injuries, he could get to the Magisterium, report to the Queen via windsong messenger, ask about Magdala’s progress via Lucchesi, and be in his seat before Professor Corns shuffled into class.
***
As her evening guard shift at Sanford came to an end, Mei gazed at a sketch of a Harvest Ball dress Fran had designed and lamented that she’d lost the dagger that was meant to go into the sheathe on the dress’s shoulder. Maybe before Mei went to find Sioned, she could stop by the scene of the attack and look for it.
Then said dagger landed on the paper.
“You shouldn’t leave something like that lying around.” As Mei frowned at him, Huan installed himself on the other side of the doorway. “And next time, guard the front door.”
That was the first thing he’d said to her since he’d disappeared the night of the attack.
She sheathed her dagger. “I was guarding the front door.”
“You were guarding the roof across the street.”
Mei raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”
“I read Dwayne’s report.”
Mei just watched Huan silently until he admitted, “Rodion made me read it when I went on duty. He said he’d dock my pay otherwise.”
Mei said nothing.
“You don’t trust me?”
That question she did not want to answer. “Where did you find the dagger?”
“I have my ways.”
“What ways?”
“Damn it, Mei, it’s like you’re not even grateful that I found it!”
“I am grateful.” But he wasn’t answering the question. “Thank you.”
“See?” Huan grinned. “That wasn’t so hard. Now, anything happened when I was gone?”
“No.” Mei could ask him about the dagger again, but he’d find a way to change the subject again. “I’m going.”
“Okay. See you at dinner.”
Once she was out in the street, Mei glanced back at Sanford. Surprisingly, Huan was still at his post, his clean uniform, erect stance, and alert gaze the very picture of the ideal house guard. It had to be a performance, but Mei couldn’t figure out who for.
She dismissed the question. It wasn’t important.
After crossing the street, Mei entered an alley, found the handholds she’d used two nights ago, and climbed up to the roof. She turned east towards the Bilges and realized that while she didn’t care why Huan was taking his guard duties seriously, she couldn’t let the question of how he’d found her dagger go. Her brother hadn’t been there, she hadn’t told Rodion or Dwayne that the dagger was missing, and the only way to find a blade that had been thrown off a rooftop at night in a large city was luck.
And yet Huan had not only noticed that her dagger was missing, he’d gone and found it. While he was very sociable, and could have fostered contacts among the local criminals and leveraged them to locate her dagger, the first time Mei had her brother since the attack was this morning when she’d taken over the midday shift from him after returning from the Chamber. Barely five hours had passed since then. That couldn’t be enough time to one tiny dagger in this huge city.
She groaned. She should go and look for Sioned, should ask the roofrunner more questions about that night, but she had to look into this or else it would bother her for the rest of the day. So instead of heading east, she went south.
It didn’t take her long to find the rooftop where she’d fought Blue Mask, Black Tiger, and the archer because the damage from that night - the smashed tiles, the arrow puncture marks - were all still there. Once there, she retraced her steps as best she could until she was standing in the spot she’d been when she’d thrown her dagger. Then she followed the dagger’s path to the rooftop’s southern edge. Assuming that she hadn’t actually hit the archer, and there was no sign that she had, then the dagger had to have gone over the edge and fallen down into the small yard attached to the side of the building, where a small flowers and bushes had been planted around a small bench. The size of the yard made it much more plausible that Huan had found the dagger. The fact that she was half a prinwir from Sanford made it much less.
Something crashed onto the roof.
Mei whirled around, dagger drawn. Then she saw who it was and frowned. “Dwayne?”
“Ow,” the fire mage got back on his feet, “that hurt.”
Mei checked. He was on the north edge of the roof, which looked out over the street. “How did you get up here? How did you find me?”
“Qesheffuf.” Dwayne rubbed his backside. “And Huan gave me directions. Eventually. After, I bribed him. Is this where you fought the thief in the blue mask?”
Mei’s brother paying attention to her was almost as implausible as him finding the dagger, but that wasn’t Dwayne concern. “Yes.”
“Find out anything new?”
“No.” That was technically true.
“Ah.” Dwayne watched her for a long moment. “Well, I, uh, wanted to thank you for finding me yesterday.” He rubbed his chest. “I’m glad I was able to catch you before you got too far away. Argh. Okay, I’m sitting.”
“You don’t need to thank me.” Mei sat next to him. “It was my job.”
“Oh?” Dwayne raised an eyebrow. “If I wasn’t paying you, you wouldn’t have bothered to?”
“Rodion would have have asked me to,” she pointed out, “and Maggie would have made me.”
“And if they weren’t involved?”
“You would have come home on your own. You almost did.”
Dwayne laughed. “I didn’t know you had so much faith in my abilities.”
“Faith.” Mei turned the word over in her mind. “Yes, I had faith.” She gave Dwayne a look. “Why are you here?”
“We need to discuss our respective investigations.”
“Because my murderers are your thieves.”
“And because they attacked us. Any ideas as to who they are?”
“ One is a mage. One is a fighter. One is a thief.”
“That’s what they are. Who are they?” Dwayne leaned back on his hands. “I mean we know that the wind mage has to be Magisterium trained, but I don’t think she’s a windsong messenger.”
Mei nodded. “She moves wrong.”
Dwayne blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Every windsong I’ve seen fly like leafhoppers.” One big jump, fly for a bit, land. Jump, fly, land.” Mei mimed this with her right hand. “The murderer flies like an eagle. Lots of swooping.”
“What about the fighter? He has to have been trained by Sen Jerome.”
It took Mei a moment to remember the name. “Isn’t he dead?”
Dwayne smiled. “He is, but his order isn’t. Rodion said its a religious order that trains mage-fighters, and considering that the brute definitely knew how to deal with my Qe spells, he had to have trained with them.”
Mei shook her head. “A stiletto is a bad soldier’s weapon. Too small. Too thin. No blade.”
“But terrific at killing mages. Most of us don’t wear armor.”
“But,” Mei waved her hand, “We haven’t seen Sen Jerome fighters fight.”
“You’re right.” Dwayne sighed. “I’m extrapolating from an sample size of one. Maybe we can observe them training?”
“I can do that. Mage-fighters probably don’t like mages.”
“Hah, and that goes double for a mage like me who isn’t even Souran.” All humor drained from his face. “That leaves the thief.”
Mei went very still.
“You said his knives were magic,” said Dwayne. “Did you get a good look at them?”
“They are good throwing knives,” said Mei in a monotone. “Dark steel, colored wraps on the handles, maybe seven in all.”
“You were trying to capture him, weren’t you?”
Mei stared at the mage. That hadn’t been in her report to Rodion.
He shrugged. “I have faith in your abilities too. If you wanted to kill, you would, and you wouldn’t hesitate. Since this Black Tiger and her partner had time to show up, you had to have been trying to catch the thief, not kill him. Am I wrong?”
Turns out surviving multiple lethal encounters gave even bookish mages insights into how Mei thought. “I couldn’t catch him, and he wouldn’t let me come back and help.”
“He wasn’t trying to kill you?”
“No. He…” Mei’s eyes slid down to the street. “He didn’t want me dead. He sounded like he knew me, like he knew I wouldn’t kill.”
“Did he call you Axesnapper?”
Mei’s head snapped up. “No, why?”
“Because if he had, then we’d know that he had some connection to the army.”
That made sense, but, “He didn’t call me anything. He just said, ‘He was so sure you wouldn’t.’”
“‘He’?” Dwayne’s eyebrows furrowed. “That’s… concerning. There are only three ‘He’’s in this entire city who can claim to know you: myself, Rodion, and Huan.”
“It was Huan.” He was the only one of those who’d talk to a professional thief.
Dwayne looked uneasy. “It could have been me or Rodion. Either of us could have-”
“No,” Mei put her hand on Dwayne’s arm, “you couldn’t. You are too busy.”
Dwayne didn’t look happy, but admitted, “and criminals don’t bother Wesens about anything.” He groaned. “It probably was him.”
Silence settled between them, an uncomfortable one filled with the sounds of the street vendors and horses down on the street. The only reason why Mei didn’t just leave was because she knew Dwayne wasn’t done.
“I heard you went to the Chamber this morning,” asked Dwayne finally. “How’s the investigation going?”
“Charlie and I talked to one of the suspects.” Mei filled in him in on the interrogation. “Charlie was not happy when he found out what the sponsors do.”
“I’m not either.” Dwayne shook his head. “Because it’s our fault. If Lord Kalan and I had come back sooner, then we could have sorted out this whole provisional license mess. People should be able to send messages without getting spied on.”
“Have you contacted Lord Kalan?
“Yes and he hasn’t replied. I don’t know if that’s because he’s distracted or if the messages are getting stolen or if… if…”
He wasn’t there. “Maybe Fran can help. She delivered that note for you.”
“Oh, uh… That’s good.” Dwayne cleared his throat. “What did she say?”
“She didn’t say anything. She just gave your note to Maggie.”
“I mean…” Dwayne looked away. “Never mind. When you get the chance, could you please ask Miss Lucchesi if she could get a message to Lord Kalan? I don’t care how long it takes, just so long as it gets there.”
“I will.” Mei got to her feet. “Anything else?”
“One last thing. Other than Scrytive Vogt, whom have you told that the dead windsong’s name is Juanelo Rincón Ybarra?”
Mei rubbed her forehead. “Maggie. Fran.”
“Hmm… I don’t think Magdala has anyone to tell outside her family. Would Miss Lucchesi share that information with anyone?”
“Fran likes women with muscles, pretty girls, and math. She doesn’t like to talk about death.”
“And Scrytive Vogt?”
Mei thought about it. “He makes reports. Someone has to read them.”
“Like a clerk?”
Mei shrugged. “Why are you asking?”
“Baron Thadden knew Mr. Ybarra’s name.”
Mei frowned. “How?”
“He says he heard gossip.”
“Right.” Mei filed that away. It was possible that Thadden was the mysterious sponsor. She’d have to check on that. “Was there anything else?”
“No, I think that’s all. Wait.” Dwayne glanced at the roof. “Help me down?”