“Okay, I’ll take this to him,” Rodion raised the small box of azade, “and if you see him, tell your brother that he has more work to do.”

“I will, and thank you.”

Mei bowed, left Sanford, and headed south on Oben Avenue. When she reached the Exchange’s northeast corner on Sylvan Street, she stopped to consider her two options to get to the Bilges: the fast route or the interesting route. The fast route would take her southeast through the Exchange, and she’d reached the tavern that was probably filled with drunk people, weak beer and thin sausages. Or she could go straight south and investigate the intriguing mix of scents and smells drifting out of Boscage. While her brother would probably prefer she arrive early, Mei had a mission from Dwayne to explore Bradford. Getting something to eat other than terrible sausages would be a bonus.

Turning south, Mei joined a flock of laughing, shouting carousers in colorful suits, fancy dresses, and full length cloaks. While they were all dressed in unfashionable reds, blues, and greens, all in cuts that Fran had declared last year’s passé, the commoners had the more compelling cloak clasps: the silver birds, gold flowers, and bronze bees were very eye-catching. Apparently, being unfashionable and untitled freed commoners from the requirement to display their family crests and allowed them to decorate with abandon. Maybe Mei could get one made for her.

“Flatbread, get your flatbread here!”

Mei and the carousers had reached an intersection where a half dozen food stalls competed for attention and coin.

“Best fried fish you’ll get your hands on ever!”

“Exotic, exquisite, excellent! That’s what you’ll be squealing when you’ve tried… this!” A stall owner hefted a large metal lid, revealing a laden metal pan of rice, beans, and awrock liver.

Mei’s mouth watered as she recognized one of the scents she’d smelled all the way from the Parvenue District. She quickly bought a bowl, thanked the stall owner, and walked on, using a roughly carved wooden spoon to ladle food out of the bowl and into her mouth. When the combination of spices and fat hit her tongue, she moaned. It was better than it smelled and was almost as good at the wrap Rodion had prepared for breakfast.

Still eating, Mei continued south, and soon she reached the brightly lit Brad riverfront. Around her, the food stalls became trendy restaurants with tables and chairs arranged to take in the view of the boats drifting up and down the river. At a glance, the restaurants looked stuffy, but Mei let her nose catalog the best one before she walked on. Good food was good food after all.

“Oh honey, look at that!” A woman pointed at a two-tiered boat, the Ziegler’s Pride, which was pushing its way up the river as its dozen passengers toasted with sparkling wine.

Her partner frowned. “How is it going against the current?”

That was a good question. Mei peered at the boat. It didn’t have any oars or sails or polemen, and yet, it went against the river’s flow. It wasn’t until she remembered which country she was in and searched the back end of the boat that she found the reason it could move upriver: a water Qe mage with brown curly hair. Fran had called mages like that one waterimpelers and had loudly disapproved, saying that pushing pleasure boats around was pointless work that kept mages from doing real labor on the farms or on the sea. At the time, Maggie had muttered agreement, but Mei had thought it sounded fun. Watching this one concentrate so hard, her eyes closed, her hand trailing in the water, made that whimsical thought sound naive.

Finished with her meal, Mei tossed her trash into a nearby bin and left the couple to their gawking. She’d enjoyed this little jaunt, but duty called. Turning east, Mei entered the ever busy Exchange and made her way to Bradsbridge, dodging laborers, overseers, drovers, awful awrocks, and accountants with clipboards as she went. Almost dizzy with the effort, Mei took a break next to the wide stone bridge and watched carts and carriages stream across it.

Before crossing Bradsbridge two weeks ago, Mei, Dwayne, Rodion and her brother had passed by the Plague District, a dark section of Bradford that lay outside the city’s walls on the other side of the river. Later at dinner, Maggie had told them that a hundred years ago a Souran Queen had sent non-Sourans there in order to stave off a deadly plague, and they hadn’t left since. The district was neglected, lacking paved streets or street lights of any kind, which Maggie had spun as a bad thing, even though such things were rare outside of cities like Bradford. Mei wanted to go there, to follow the Vanurians and Wesen workers as they trudged back across the bridge, and to compare the district to the slums in Waltons, but she’d promised Huan she’d meet him. Even the prospect of chocolati ghalianas from the South couldn’t sway her.

The South. When Charlie had said, “Southern cheekbones,” Mei had assumed that he’d meant Southern like Fran who was from Adhua, but he could have meant Southern like Odette, like Vanuria. That thought was almost enough to convince Mei to go to the Plague District now, but again her conscience implored her to keep her appointment with her brother. Maybe she’d have time to investigate tomorrow.

Turning east, Mei got through the Exchange and back into the Bilges, but she had to ask around before she could reach The Slipped Finger, a leaning ramshackle building tucked into a dark alley on the far eastern end of the quarter. Pushing her way through the swinging doors, Mei’s nose wrinkled from the sour smell of beer and sweat. Trying to ignore how her boots made sucking sounds on the wood floor, she made her way around and through impromptu choirs, knife-edged arguments, and card games with rules she could only guess at. She kept her hand on her dagger, a clear sign of hostility that forestalled at least one attempt to accost her.

“Oi, Mei!” Her brother, back in his favored blue tunic and gray pants, emerged from a table at the back of the room. “Over here!”

Mei slipped through the crowd and reached the table, which was also occupied by a large man with bare arms, closely cropped blond hair, and icy blue eyes.

The stranger scoffed. “This your sister?”

“The one and only.” Huan gestured for Mei to sit. “Kay, this is my little sister Mei.” He put his arm over Kay’s shoulders. “Mei, meet Kay.”

“She’s still in uniform.” Kay crossed his arms and made his muscles ripple under his clean skin. “Hardly discreet.”

Instead of sitting, Mei looked over Kay’s clean white tunic, perfectly black trousers, and the silver cup pendent hanging from his neck. He didn’t slouch and had noticed, and approved of, the dagger on her hip.

As one last test, Mei shifted onto her back foot, and watch Kay’s crossed arms flex. “Are you a soldier?”

Kay’s rigid posture somehow stiffened. “No.”

“There are only three kinds of people here,” Mei nodded at the rest of the room, “soldiers, sellswords, and criminals. Criminals,” she didn’t look at her own brother, “don’t take baths, sellswords like me don’t have the time to do arm exercises, and,” Mei leaned forward, a motion that broke Kay’s stoic stance, “You have training.”

Kay’s eyes flashed. “You little-”

“Kay, let it go.” Huan whispered his words into the man’s ear. “She’s matching your hostility.” He smiled at Mei. “Which is rude, and ironic considering that she was late to this meeting. Mei, be nice.” He pointed. “Sit.”

Huan’s arm was still around Kay’s shoulders, and, despite Mei’s provocations, the big man hadn’t gone for a weapon.

“Fine.” Mei sat down and placed both of her hands on the table. “What is this about?”

Kay matched her, placing both hands on the table. “We have a job for you.”

Huan’s head jerked back. “What?”

Mei said nothing.

Kay scowled. “Our employer thinks you’d be perfect for it.”

Huan’s fingers curled. “I came through for you last night, and you’re already thinking of replacing me?”

The muscles on Kay’s neck tensed. “This was not my idea.”

“What kind of job?” Mei would ask her brother about last night later.

Kay shook his head. “No details. Not till you take it.” He crossed his arms. “Pay is good. Four earls.”

“Four earls?” Huan asked. “That’s twice what you paid me.”

Mei’s eyes flicked to her brother. Two earls was also lot of money and doubling implied that Mei’s skills would be invaluable to Kay’s employer.

“I am not my brother, and I don’t do jobs I know nothing about.” Mei switched to Tuquese. “Brother, what is this?”

“Don’t embarrass me, Mei,” answered Huan in the same language, “not after arriving late. Just-”

Kay’s hand cut between them. “Speak Souran. What did you just say?”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“That I already have a job.” Mei leaned back in her chair. “So does he.”

“Protecting towers in the backwoods?” Kay sneered. “They call you Axesnapper. Was it for irony?”

“Soldiers,” Mei let the word hang in the air, “call me Axesnapper.”

Kay’s fist hit the table. “I am not a-”

“Oi, no.” Huan pulled Kay back into his seat. “Just… cool it for now. Mei.” Her brother gave her his most winning, most desperate smile. “We’re not paid enough to turn down good money.”

Mei glanced at Kay and doubted that his employer could pay her enough to endure threats. “No.”

Her brother growled. “Mei…”

“Excellent.”

Mei and her brother stared as Kay got to his feet. “May Cueller’s Blessing pour upon you.” He put his hands together and left.

Before Mei could follow, Huan grabbed her arm. “What was that?”

Mei twisted free. “I don’t need the money.”

“Everyone needs money. It’s like air or love.”

Mei switched to Tuquese. “What did you do for them?”

Huan’s eyes slid away from her. “A few courier jobs.” His Tuquese was rougher than Mei remembered, like it wasn’t his first tongue anymore. “Nothing big.”

“You can tell me.” Mei took her brother’s hand. “I’m family.”

“Not here.” Huan’s eyes flicked to the rest of the room. “Later.” He squeezed her hand and pulled away. “Just trust me on this.”

He wasn’t just asking her to trust him regarding Kay; he was also asking her to trust him and not ask about the late nights and sketchy acquaintances.

Mei searched his face. “Do you want me to take that job?”

Huan’s expression went blank as he considered her question. “No, I don’t. You wouldn’t be a good fit.”

Mei let out a huge breath. “Okay.” She brightened. “By the way, Dwayne told me to explore the city tomorrow. Want to join me?”

Huan’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I’m investigating a murder.”

Huan went still. “The windsong murder?”

Mei straightened up. “You heard about it?”

“Yes, I saw it… this morning. On my way to Sanford.”

Nieder Street wasn’t on the way to Sanford, and Rodion hadn’t acted like he’d seen Huan today. “On your way out?”

“It was really early.” Huan leaned forward. “Why are you looking into a murder?”

“Remember that scrytive from last night? He asked me for help.”

“Interesting.” Huan tapped his fingers on the table. “Sure, I’ll help you out.”

Mei smiled. “Good! I’ll ask Charlie about the paperwork.”

“Paperwork?” Huan shifted in his seat. “What paperwork?”

“To include you on the investigation. Charlie said it was required.”

“Oh.” Huan’s expression became grave. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? It’s not hard. I think.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “I’d rather help in a more… unofficial capacity.”

“I don’t think Charlie would like that.”

“Right.” Huan shook his head. “Then I’m out. Just let me know if you want to chat about the case or something.”

“Okay.” It would have been nice to have Huan’s help. Unlike her, he already knew how to read and write. “I’ll do that.”

Huan offered her a tight smile. “Sorry, I can’t be more help. Have you eaten anything?”

“I’m full.” Mei wanted to ask about last night and about those courier jobs he’d been doing, but she could see that her brother was already beginning to shut down. “Rodion says he has work for you.”

“Yeah, I’ll stop by later.” Huan’s expression was already prinwirs away. “Anything else?”

“No.” Mei hid her disappointment. “I’ll go home now.”

***

“Done.”

Dwayne put his pen down and reviewed the result table he’d inscribed into the Terminal Tome. He’d spent the past few hours removing magical components from twenty spell vials, moving them to different vials, and then trying out their spells. The results were clear: moving the components broke the spell and restoring the components to their original vials fixed them, although with notably lessened effect. He wasn’t sure about that though as casting so many Qe spells had tired him out. Still, it was something to be noted. Pulling out his journal, Dwayne started to outline another experiment, one that focused on just two of the vials.

“What are you doing?”

Dwayne’s pen froze, ink dripping onto the page. That high, prim drawl should be at Yumma commanding diggers in the desert, not haranguing him here in his lab.

“Lady Pol,” Dwayne put the pen aside and grabbed an ink blotter to save the paper, “you’re here.”

“You didn’t expect me.” The Lady Luisa Pol certainly looked like she’d just come from the desert with her frazzled white-blond hair, dusty blouse, and worn trousers. The only clean thing she wore was a deep purple cloak clasped with a stag prancing around a tree. “Your esteemed master didn’t bother to inform you I was coming?”

Dwayne grimaced. “Lord Kalan has been quite busy lately.”

“Right. And you’re here doing what?” Lady Pol stepped up to the pedestal. “Playing with the Terminal Tome?”

Dwayne stiffened. “Y-you know about it?”

Lady Pol smirked. “Any mage worth their aluminum knows about it. It’s the Royal Sorcerer’s prerogative,” her eyes flicked over the open page, “which apparently means I can’t read it.” Her eyes flicked to Dwayne. “What are you doing with it?”

Dwayne gestured at the pile of vials and magical components. “I was recording the results of my latest experiment.”

Her eyes snapped to the vials. “You’ve disassembled your external resonators.”

Dwayne’s head jerked back. “That term… you’ve been reading our work.”

“Resonator” was the word he and Lord Kalan used to refer to the role that spell vials and shunts performed when Dwayne casted Qe spells.

“Only the ones you wrote.” Lady Pol picked up a spell vial. “You’ve been switching the components. What are you-” She coughed. “No, that is not what I came here to talk about.” She put the spell vial down and turned to Dwayne. “I know what happened.”

Dwayne’s stomach turned. Somehow, she already knew about the dinner. “I’m sorry. I…I have no excuse for my behavior last night.”

“Last night?” Lady Pol shook her head. “I’m talking about this morning. A wind Qe died on your watch, and you haven’t even put out a public statement.”

“A public statement?”

“Yes, it is the expected thing to do, so why are you down here in the dark running pointless experiments?”

“Pointless?” Dwayne’s hands tightened into fists. “This experiment is the start of a proof for Resonance Theory.”

“Why is that import-”

“Because on top of attending classes at the Academy, renovating Sanford, and getting this whole Tower operational, I have to find a way to keep this position.” Wrath’s flame licked at Dwayne’s fists, begging to be released, but that would make this worse. Dwayne unclenched his fists and forced a smile. “This experiment isn’t pointless, and we’re not doing nothing about the murder. Mei is already working with the scrytives on it.” He sighed. “I didn’t think of a public statement. I don’t even think we have the means to put one out right now. You’ve seen the state of the Tower.”

“I see.” Lady Pol looked away. “This is your best.”

“And it’s not enough.”

She crossed her arms. “Shouldn’t you just announce your secret then?”

Dwayne eyed Lady Pol. “Why?” Telling everyone he was Ri would only make it worse.

“You know why. It’s the right move.”

“No, it’s not.” Sourans barely accepted him now. If they knew he was Ri… “Besides, I’m under orders from the Queen to keep it quiet.”

“Her Majesty is playing a strange game.” Lady Pol closed her eyes. “I wasn’t planning to take on the throne, but this secrecy is ridiculous. If no one will announce it publicly, I will.”

The floor dropped from under Dwayne. “Where?” He had to prepare, either to defend himself or to flee. “When?”

“The Palace.” Lady Pol’s eyes opened. “The Autumn Session. Her Highness has already approved my appeal.”

Dwayne stepped towards her. “Please, don’t do this.”

“This charade has gone on for too long.” Lady Pol pushed him away. “You all had your chance.” She headed for the stairs.

“Wait!” Dwayne followed her. “Wait, we should talk about this.”

“We just did, and you’d rather maintain this, this farce than tell the truth.” Lady Pol crossed the foyer. “You and your master made your bed. Now lie in it.” Leaving Dwayne on the Tower’s threshold, she strode up to the mud splattered carriage that sat on the dewy road.

“Milady.” A man in a black suit bowed and opened the carriage door. “On to the inn?”

“Yes.” Lady Pol tried to enter the carriage.

“Wait a second.” A black gloved hand pushed Lady Pol back onto the driveway. “I need to stretch my legs.” A woman in a floor length black and purple dress stepped out of the carriage. “I can’t believe we’re leaving after you rushed us out all the way here.”

“There wasn’t anything else to discuss,” said Lady Pol.

“If you say so.” Odette Montes, Lady Pol’s Vanurian traveling companion, noticed Dwayne and waved. “Hello! How have you been?”

Dwayne managed a wave back, even as muted fear and anger washed over him. Odette had been a ship’s inspector on a Vanurian slave ship and had been responsible for making sure that the human merchandise was in acceptable condition when it arrived in port, but after Lady Pol had confronted her with the reality of her position, she’d given up that life. Before this moment, Dwayne had thought that he’d dealt with all that hurt. Apparently, he hadn’t.

He cleared his throat. “Busy mostly. You?”

“For some reason,” Odette tossed a glare at Lady Pol, “we’ve been touring the queendom. First Anders, then Walton, then here.”

Dwayne blinked. While Anders was on the way from Yumma, the location of Lady Pol’s dig, Walton was way out of the way.

Lady Pol glared at her companion. “You know why.”

“Oh, yes, the queendom is at stake, etc, etc. Still, even Myers here has a limit to how long he can be on the road,” Odette leaned in close to Lady Pol, “my love.”

Lady Pol stiffened. “Ode-, I mean Montes, what, what are you-?”

“Just making it clear who you can trust.” Odette kissed Lady Pol on the lips.

Dwayne’s jaw dropped. With that one action, Odette had revealed that she and Lady Pol were in a romantic relationship. That wasn’t scandalous because Odette was a woman, although most noble families frowned on that, but because she was a commoner, a Vanurian, and a presumed heretic.

When the kiss was over, Lady Pol faced Dwayne with her hands on her hips. “Well?”

She seemed to expect something. “Well, what?” asked Dwayne.

“What do you say?”

“Uh… congratulations?” Dwayne shrugged. “Odette’s story of why she quit being a ship’s inspector makes a little more sense? She said you stirred her conscience.”

As Lady Pol blushed, Odette laughed. “A clear conscience makes it easier to know what the heart wants, young Kalan.”

Lady Pol squared her shoulders. “Aren’t you going to condemn us?”

Dwayne blinked. “Why would I do that? It’s hardly any of my business, and I’d rather not be a hypocrite.”

“Oh?” Odette grinned. “Have a forbidden love of your own?”

“I didn’t say that.” Dwayne’s face heated. “I just don’t want to be the bad guy.”

“You can’t stop me.” Lady Pol raised her chin. “I’m still going through with the announcement.”

“He knows that, Luisa.” Odette pulled Lady Pol back towards the carriage. “We’ll be off now. Good luck dealing with your master’s mistake!” With that, she pulled Lady Pol into the carriage and they were well away before Dwayne could think to ask what Odette meant.

Dwayne leaned against the metal door. His assumption, that Lady Pol wanted to reveal him as Ri, couldn’t really be seen as Lord Kalan’s mistake. If there was anything that was a mistake, it was Lord Kalan making Dwayne his apprentice, but that was hardly a secret. That incongruity was almost as strange as Odette’s declaration that they’d been to Walton, and yet a windsong-borne rant from Lord Kalan hadn’t beat them here because, although windsong was the most expensive way to send letters, and he’d already sent a letter two weeks ago, all Lord Kalan cared about was speed.

Regardless, there wasn’t much Dwayne could do now. If Lady Pol really was about to reveal him as a Ri mage, he had to prepare for that possibility. The Autumn Session was in two days. He’d better do as much as possible to complete his experiments and get the Tower ready so that whoever followed after him would be set up to push magic forward. Maybe that would be Magdala. She already knew Lord Kalan’s work backwards and forwards and could run the experiments in her sleep. She’d have to start with the Huo-niao feather though, which required Dwayne to discover its spell. He’d do that now.

Muttering to himself, Dwayne went back into the Tower, barely remembering to close the door after himself.

* * *