With a little bit of effort and a lot of grunting, Mei escaped Nieder Street, and its crowds and shops and awful awrocks, and entered the peace of the rooftops and belfries and sky. It wasn’t as good as a forest or even a desert, but Mei breathed easier up here, despite the stink of chimneys and refuse. She reveled in it for one long moment and then went to work.
Currently, she was standing on the sloping ridged roof panels of the warehouse. Rain and time had done their part to wear away the metal, but the metal still held firm enough to show that a path, one running parallel to Nieder Street, had been made by dozens of feet. And just west of that path, on the ground below, was where the poor windsong had died.
Mei peered down at where his body had been, part of her still expecting it to still be there, lying in a dried pool of blood, but of course it wasn’t. She frowned. In fact, it looked like it had never been there at all. Even from up here, she should have been able to see some staining, but the cobblestones looked fresh as the day they were cut. Even the mortar between them looked clean. That should be impossible as blood stains were more persistent than a wounded grimbear, but she was standing in a country full of mages like Maggie. Maybe, like having ice outside of winter, this was something they could do.
Mei’s stomach growled. To check this place out, she’d skipped lunch. Her appetite stilled. Maggie had probably ended up eating alone. Yesterday, Fran had suddenly announced that she had something to do during lunch today, and, since Dwayne had found ways to be even more busy, Maggie was eating at a table by herself, not talking to anyone. Mei would have to apologize next time she saw her.
What made that particularly annoying was that coming up here had been a waste of time. The only thing she’d learned was that roofrunners came through here all of the time, and she was no closer to proving her brother’s innocence, a task made more difficult by his actions over the past week. She knew Huan the thief, who liked to rob nobles and merchants, who liked to use tools to break into highly secure places, and who stole not because they’d needed the money, but because of the way it had made him feel. Her brother had promised that that life was behind him now, just as the Mask was, but he wasn’t telling her everything, not even about what was in that mysterious box he was careful to not even glance at when she was around.
Mei shook her head. She had to stop finding reasons not to trust her brother. After all, she was up here to prove his innocence.
She resumed her inspection of the roof. As she noticed before, the deepest signs ran north to south, but there were signs that roofrunners occasionally approached from the east, but not the west. The reason why was obvious because while the warehouses in the Bilges stood about three or four wir apart from each other, the distance of an enthusiastic jump, Nieder Street was a far wider twelve wir, much too far for a minki to jump, not without magic.
When the scrytives had asked her why the windsong hadn’t just run away, Mei had said that he was too tired to, but just running your prey to exhaustion wasn’t enough. When star wolves hunted, they relied on at least one of them being fast enough to harry their prey and keep it in reach of the rest of the pack, but no roofrunner could keep up with a flying windsong. could fly away from any ground pursuit, which Nieder’s width made impossible. However, another windsong definitely could.
Adding a windsong to the scenario made it easy to imagine. The victim would have been tired from the long journey, but fear would have been enough to get him back into the air when he was attacked. When he got up there, the attacking windsong could have struck to force him back down. There would have been a fight and a chase of course, there was no way that the murderers would have wanted their prey to reach Nieder Street, to almost get away. That said, they wouldn’t have given up just because their chase had lead them this far. They had to have a plan to keep up the pursuit.
For the first time since coming up here, Mei scanned Nieder Street. There were tall lamps and taller trees, but only along the street. Any jumper would have to close a gap to seven or eight wirs. There were cables that ran to and fro across the street, which Mei would have dismissed as some sort of strange contrivance for a strange city, but there were a few that were thick enough for someone with exceptional balance to race across. In fact, when Mei went to inspect one, she found signs pounded into the roof that that was exactly what had happened. This even opened up the possibility that the roofrunners had not only chased their victim but could have intercepted them.
That was just supposition though and Mei needed something more tangible. To get it, she jumped to another roof and slid into a hiding spot. In moments she was locked into the world around her, the shouting from the street below, the smells of animal and human refuse, the way ever present rain settled on the metal around and slowly dribbled down. On their way here, Mei had tried to take Dwayne and Maggie hunting, but the two mages had found waiting and doing nothing torture, which Mei didn’t understand. Lying still like this, watching, listening, feeling, all of it was like becoming a part of the world and it was an amazing feeling.
With all her senses opened, Mei couldn’t miss the furtive figure in the worn brown jacket and tattered gray cap peeking out from hiding on the other side of Nieder, and so she was ready to intercept them when they crossed the cable at a dash.
“Hello!” she said.
Mei caught a glimpse of the roofrunner’s wide brown eyes before they bolted. After a quick groan, Mei gave chase, sliding down rooftops, stepping around chimneys, and gingerly crossing cable. Thus she was completely failing to catch up to the roofrunner who rolled down rooftops, leapt over chimneys, and raced over cables in a feat of skill Mei couldn’t hope to match. Steadily the roofrunner’s lead widened until suddenly they dropped out of sight.
Mei slid to a stop right where she’d last seen the roofrunner. Below her was a shabbier version of the Exchange, where the residents of the Bilge sauntered between stalls and shops buying cooking supplies and knick-knacks. The roofrunner was nowhere to be seen, but that meant that the roofrunner stopped running.
Good.
With rather more skill than she’d shown during the chase, Mei dropped down onto the street where she found a fresh divot in the mud from where her quarry had dropped. Using it as a guide, she began to search the crowds and carts. By choosing to hide, the roofrunner had made a mistake because they only had two choices now, hope that Mei gave up searching the crowd or attempt to ambush her.
As she made her way through the crowd, Mei kept her eyes on the crowd so that it seemed like she was scanning faces while she was actually looking out the corner of her eye for for gray caps and brown jackets and any discomfort in the crowd. For their part, the crowd ignored her, probably because she wasn’t wearing a familiar uniform and thus not one they should be worried about. That meant that the pair of eyes watching her from underneath a vegetable cart and a gray cap was unusual for two reasons.
Here, Mei made her own mistake and looked before she was close enough to prevent the roofrunner from bolting again. However, on the ground things were different since, while the crowd got in the way of the roofrunner’s every flip, slide, and dash, Mei simply ducked and slipped her way through. Soon she was a mere couple of wirs away and the roofrunner knew it. After flinging one terrified look in Mei’s direction, they broke right and fled into The Slipped Finger.
Mei did not enter the tavern because it felt too much like following a rabbit into a bear den, and because she’d done this without Charlie or Dwayne or even Maggie, she didn’t have anyone to make her up while the roofrunner might. Besides even in the case that the roofrunner didn’t have allies in there, pushing through thugs seemed like a good way to start a fight.
Mei was still trying to figure out how to follow after the roofrunner, when her brother stepped out of the tavern, a tankard of beer in his hand. “Mei? What are you doing here?”
Mei stared. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the day and that he should be on guard at Sanford, Huan was in his familiar tunic and scarf. “Why are you here?”
“I’m off duty.” Huan raised his beer. “And I enjoy a good drink when I’m off duty.” He leaned against the wall. “You’re out of breath. Did Rodion make you run all the way here from Sanford to get me?”
“No.” Mei almost didn’t noticed Huan flinch she was so shocked. “I chased someone here. I wanted to talk to them about the murder.”
“Oh, it was you who was chasing Hughes?” Huan shook his head. “She honestly thought you were City Guard.”
“Is she still in there?” Mei tried to stepped her brother, but Huan’s arm blocked her way. “I just want to talk.”
“She went out the back, you won’t catch her now.” Huan sipped from his beer. “When I see her again, I’ll let her know that you’re my sister and that you mean her no harm.”
The fact that Huan knew the roofrunner’s name made a few questions that Mei was working hard to not to ask very hard not to ask. The only safe one was “Why do you know her?”
“I’m a regular here and I talk to people.” Huan smirked. “It’s called getting to know where you live.” When she said nothing, he sighed. “Look, roofrunners like Hughes work hard delivering messages for workers over at the Exchange. Why do you want her anyway?”
To try and prove your innocence. “I wanted to ask her if she saw any windsong the night of the murder.”
“Murder.” Huan very slowly took another sip of his beer. “I recall a murder being mentioned. What does that have to do with you? Did that Charring-”
“Charlie.”
“Charlie person put you up to this?”
“I put me up to this.” Mei crossed her arms. “And Dwayne said that I could.”
“I… see.” Huan shrugged. “Well, I doubt that a roofrunner would know anything about it. After all, mages don’t bother with mere commoners unless they can make use of them.” He paused to emphasize some point. “Why don’t you look into other mages? I’ve heard that there’s this one windsong doing ‘charity’ in the Plague District and sometimes another one with a weird accent comes around here and asks for work. Maybe they know who did it. Maybe it’s one of them.”
“Maybe.” Mei ignored the other questions buzzing around in the back of her mind. “That sounds plausible.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Huan finished his beer. “Since that’s settled, I’m going back in. See you later?”
“See you later,” Mei echoed.
When Huan went back in, he left Mei alone with a pile of coincidences, one of which was that it was he who’d stepped out to deal with Mei instead of someone else. Another was how he’d been ready with two candidates for a murder he supposedly knew nothing about. Mei frowned. Actually, he’d said that Hughes the roofrunner had known nothing about it. That didn’t make her feel better.
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Mei glanced at the tavern. With Hughes gone, she’d have to try again with Charlie’s help and so there was no reason for her to stay. She made it all the way home before she realized that her brother hadn’t mentioned Lord Kalan’s abdication.
***
On the second morning after his master’s abandonment of his Queen-given duties, Dwayne stood in front of Andreas Ziegler’s house, a handwritten summons in hand, which he read for the umpteenth time. Yes, the address matched the narrow gray bricked, bright green roofed three-story house jammed into a long row of similarly gray-walled and green-roofed houses. Yes, he was precisely on time, less to due to a desire to be punctual and more due to nervously waking him three bells before dawn, which was unfortunate because, as he’d spent all day yesterday in class and all night experimenting, he’d need sleep to deal with Andreas Ziegler. If only he knew what he was in for. Magdala had sent a message apologizing for not showing up at the Tower because she was too tied up “creating aerially distributable liquids” and so Dwayne had had no one to ask what happened during an etiquette class.
He’d stalled enough. Straightening the sleeves of his blue suit, adjusted the wig on his head, Dwayne strode up to the house and knocked three times.
At once, the door opened and revealing an already bowing fresh-faced butler. “Young Kalan, I presume?”
“Yes,” Dwayne just barely managed not to bow back, “I’m here for the etiquette classes.”
“Understood. This way, milord.” The butler ushered Dwayne instead. “They are waiting for you in the Morning Room.”
“They’re waiting for me?” Dwayne had the time on the invitation burned into his memory. He had not gotten it wrong. “How long?”
“Mr. Ziegler’s students arrived at the last bell, milord.”
So about a half hour ago. Dwayne’s jaw clenched. This looked like a ploy to make him look lazy, but perhaps it was an honest mistake. “Thank you for informing me.”
Ziegler’s house was packed with old portraits, intricately carved chairs and vases of various sizes, which made it feel less like a home and more like a warehouse and forced the butler to constantly help Dwayne through the house as they made their way to the last door at the end of the hall.
Ziegler bowed as Dwayne entered the room. “Young Kalan. Welcome to my home. What do you think of my Sun Room?”
Dwayne did not say that the “Sun Room” barely got enough of its namesake to earn the name and instead said, “It’s very nice.” You’ve done a good job with the place.”
Ziegler smiled. “Thank you. Did you have any difficultly getting here?”
“No, the driver was able to take me straight here.” Dwayne’s eyes slid to the five whispering students. “I wasn’t informed that arriving half an hour early was expected.”
Ziegler’s smile widened. “Then it’s clear that you desperately need my instruction. Here’s your first lesson: the time on the invitation is when you’ll be considered late. Always, always arrive early.”
“I’ll remember that next time, Mr. Ziegler.” In addition to not being very bright, the room was also not very large. The two armchairs at the end of the room, one occupied by an auburn-haired girl in an Earth Qe’s white leather frock, the other an eager gray-eyed girl in a faded blue Water Qe romper, left barely enough room for the sofa, which was fully occupied by a large blond-haired boy and two sun-touched twins in Wind Qe pale yellow, and the only empty seat, a tall-backed monstrosity of a chair that guarded the lit fireplace. “Where should I sit?”
Ziegler made a show of looking around the room. “Oh, right. I apologize. I only got word that you were attending last night, so I didn’t have time to make accommodations. Please allow me to have my butler grab you a chair from the hall.”
“No, no need.” Dwayne’s neck burned under the stares of the other students. “I’ll just stand.”
“Are you sure?” Ziegler gestured to his seat. “I could offer you my seat.”
Armsford had warned at length about usurping the position of the host. “No, that’s fine. I can accept standing as a result of being late.”
“Well,” Ziegler’s smile slipped for a moment, “then I guess we should get started then.” He clapped his hands. “Okay, students, in less than two weeks, you will all attend the Harvest Ball for the very first time.”
That explained why the other students seemed younger than Dwayne. Most people attended their first Ball after thirteen summers.
Ziegler rounded on Dwayne. “Young Kalan. Tell me what the expected behavior is for one’s first time at a ball?”
“How can he know that when he can’t behave at dinner?” asked one of the twins, the one with a streak of bright sapphire blue in her brown curly hair.
Ziegler only chastisement of her rude interjection was vague wave. “Well?”
“The expected behavior for one’s first time at a ball is,” Dwayne’s answer allowed him to skip past the alarming fact that that some random mage child knew about the dinner, “is for one to stay with one’s chaperones as it’s their responsibility to arrange introductions to interested persons on one’s behalf. This ensures that only personages of character and worth have the opportunity to offer invitations to one.”
Despite the awkward phrasing, Ziegler’s eyes looked ready to pop out of his head, almost as if he hadn’t expected Dwayne to have memorized Armsford back to front.
This gave Dwayne an opportunity to continue. “Of course, there are different expectations if one happens to be betrothed. In that case, the two families should have already made all necessary introductions, and should be using events like the upcoming the Harvest Ball as an important opportunity to strengthen their connections with other relevant parties.”
“Well,” Ziegler interjected before Dwayne found more to say, “that is an acceptable summary, young Kalan. Considering… all that, we’ll begin today’s class with giving and accepting such an invitation. Miss Pia Rosa, Miss Gordon, Mister Andresen, stand in a line over there. The rest of you, join young Kalan.”
Without a word, the Rosa twin who’d spoken and the Water Qe mage got up and stood next to Dwayne. Across from them, the other three students had contrived to seem like they were pairing up with anyone but Dwayne, which was quite the feat.
“Good.” Ziegler walked between the two groups. “For this exercise, let’s start with young Kalan.”
Dwayne’s eyes snapped to Ziegler. “Are you sure?”
Ziegler placed a look of honest innocence on his face. “You clearly know what to do, do you not? Show us how its done.”
Dwayne forced his own face still. So far this class was less a lesson and more an endurance test, one that if Dwayne failed, the whole city would know he had. So far Ziegler hadn’t shown himself to be a very good teacher, which reflected badly on the baron who’d required Dwayne to take this class. Still, if he left the class, he’d be known as a quitter all throughout Bradford by this afternoon.
“Of course.” Dwayne stepped forward and waited.
“Miss Rosa, step forward.” The quieter, more blandly haired of the two twins stepped forward. “Young Kalan, you’ll start.”
Which made it Dwayne’s job to remember the exact phrases expected of the greeting, which, according to Armsford, had to be full of praise for the greeted. Judging by the salutation Ziegler had used, and the obvious fineness of the yellow blouse and pantaloons Pia and her sister wore, he should use the standard address for a merchants daughter, modified by her status as a Wind Qe mage.
“Good morning, Miss Rosa.” He bowed. “May the wind carry you and your family far. I am Dwayne Kalan, Heir to Sanford.”
Pia’s lips curled. “Good morning, young Kalan.”
Despite the fact that she’d not answered with praise of her own, Dwayne offered her his hand. “May I have this dance?”
“No,” Pia’s lips formed a cruel smile, “you may not.”
There was no gasp at this rejection, made doubly offensive by the fact that it wasn’t even in the proper form, and so Dwayne was sure that this was planned. He let his hand drop. “Very well, Miss Rosa. Thank you for your time.”
“Miss Gordon, step forward.” Ziegler stopped Dwayne from returning to the line. “You stay where you are, young Kalan.”
There was no way that this was a good thing, but Dwayne couldn’t see a way out of it. “Understood, sir.”
“Once again. Begin.”
Unlike Wind Qe, Earth Qe’s leather smocks all pretty much looked the same to Dwayne, and he’d never heard of the Gordons, which unfortunately did not mean that they weren’t a prominent mage or merchant family.
He started with, “Good evening, Miss Gordon,” then made a guess based on two assumptions: that most Earth Qe student came up from North and that Ziegler didn’t seem like someone who would bother with poor students. “May the stone yield to you and your family’s strength. I am Dwayne Kalan, Heir to Sanford.”
The Water Qe’s hand shot up. “Mr. Ziegler, isn’t it ‘May the earth continue to bless you and your line as it ascends the peaks’?”
“Indeed it is, Miss Horn.” Ziegler’s constant smile grew teeth. “Indeed it is.”
Dwayne clenched his teeth, holding in a grimace as he considered the young girl standing in front of him. That address was reserved for the direct female descendant of a sitting Earth Sage, which meant that he’d been mistaken before. While he hadn’t heard of the Gordon, he’d heard of this Gordon, Chloe Smith Gordon the only granddaughter of James Smith the current Earth Sage.
“I apologize, Miss Gordon.”
“I’m afraid that you must go, young Kalan.” There was no glee in Gordon’s voice. “Have a good evening.”
As she returned to the line, Dwayne bowed his head, the better to hide his dismay from Ziegler. Two rejected invitations ago, he’d thought he could wait this out, but if every moment of this class was going to be humiliation after humiliation then he’d take his chances with the rumor mill.
Ziegler chuckled. “It looked like you still have a ways to go, young Kalan. How about we switch things up? Mr. Andresen, why don’t you do the invitation this time, and young Kalan the acceptance.”
Dwayne’s head came up and Ziegler was lucky that he was messing with a trained Ri mage. Otherwise, his precious Sun Room might have suddenly lived up to the name. As it was, it took Dwayne several breaths before his anger was back under his control and he could face Andresen.
“What are you waiting for, Mr. Andresen?” asked Ziegler.
Andresen gulped. “Sir, I, uh…”
“We don’t have all day.”
Trembling, the only lay student in the class approached Dwayne. “Good morning, uh, Dwayne Kalan.” His eyes slid away from Dwayne’s face. “May the waters fill your cups and its bounty fill your plate. I’m Torben Andresen, Firstborn.”
Dwayne stared. That address had been for a foundling Water Qe with no family or title, but once again, Ziegler didn’t bother to correct him. Which made Dwayne wonder if Ziegler even knew how to teach.
Best to get this over with. “Good morning, Mr. Andresen.” There was no reply, only a lot of sweating and trembling. He lowered his voice. “Are you okay?”
The boy nodded, even though he looked pale as milk. “M-May I have this dance?” He extended a very damp hand.
That couldn’t be it. Torben’s emotional state, and the very weird way that Ziegler was now practically breathing over the boy’s shoulder, hinted at yet another trial for Dwayne, but once he took that hand he’d be done. Unfortunately, in the context of this class, there was only one polite thing to do.
“Of course, Mr. Andresen,” Dwayne reached for Torben’s hand, “you may have this dance.”
“I must apologize.” Torben snatched his hand back. “I’ve just been informed that I must retract.”
Dwayne said nothing, heard nothing but the pounding of his heart and the crackle of his burning rage, some small part of which was directed at Torben and the other students for their part in this farce, but most of it was directed at Andreas Ziegler, who was practically gloating behind that smile of his. It was what Dwayne got for dropping his guard, for thinking that they’d treat him like one of their own for one second, but no matter how much Armsford he memorized, how careful he was to say and do the right things, people like Ziegler would find ways to make it all moot.
What kept Dwayne from stomping out was Torben, whose trembling had grown to shaking because, unlike Ziegler and the other student, he saw Dwayne’s rage and was terrified of it. Torben did not deserve to be incinerated on the spot. What he deserved was a proper lesson in etiquette.
That was an idea. “I think we should do that again.”
“What?” Torben stared at Dwayne.
“What?” Ziegler’s smile finally slipped away. “I don’t see the point.”
“I do.” Dwayne smiled. He’d finally found a point to this class. “After all, if Torben had rescinded an invitation to dance from someone who mattered with those words, then he’d be made a pariah.” Dwayne took Torben by the hand and pulled him out of the line. “We can practice out in the hall while you teach the others.”
“Young Kalan, this is my class. You will obey me.”
Dwayne paused at the door. “I’m sorry. I’m just helping you out. You’re obviously so swamped that Miss Horn had to point out my error. I’ll get Torben straightened out, you’ll see.”
Before Ziegler could protest, Dwayne had pushed Torben out into the hall.
The other boy stammered out a “You didn’t need to do that.”
“I know.” Dwayne placed Torben at the correct distance. “Let’s make sure you don’t insult someone’s family next time you make your greetings, shall we?”
As horror made Torben’s face even paler, Dwayne noted that it was unlikely that Thadden had sent him here for this purpose, but he had to get something out of this waste of time.