The next day after an exciting afternoon of guarding, Mei found Dwayne muttering over vials and notes in the basement of the Scaled Tower in flickering candlelight. When he failed to notice her, she said, “Dwayne.”

He started. “Wha- Oh. Mei.” He cleared his throat. “How’s the murder investigation going?”

“Slowly.” Even Dwayne’s dark skin couldn’t hide the circles under his eyes. “It’s hard to find the trail.”

“Ah…I’m sure you’ll find it in the end.” Stifling a yawn, Dwayne resumed his work. “Please shout when Magdala gets here.”

Mei would have left then, but despite how tired Dwayne was, whatever the baron had him doing had to be the reason, she had to get this over with now. “I need your help.”

Dwayne paused and frowned back at her. “What with?”

“I need to you to find something upstairs.” Mei’s stomach clenched as Dwayne’s shoulders dipped. “I need to know if the victim had a mage license.”

Dwayne’s frown grew deeper. “Why wouldn’t he have had one?”

“Fran said that only ‘mages of quality and standing’ get them and that Lord Kalan has never issued them.”

“And, according to your earlier report, the victim had likely been part Vanurian so they probably wouldn’t have inherited one from his predecessor. That said,” Dwayne winced, “there are a lot of unread applications upstairs.”

None of that was a refusal. “So, you’ll help?”

“Yes, of course.” Dwayne dropped down from his stool. “I’ll help you look through the registry.”

“Help?” Mei shrank back. “But my reading… I can’t…”

“You know your letters. That’s more than enough.”

He took her up two floors to the registry, a room crammed with shelves, which were in turn swollen with scrolls and books. There was so much that someone, probably one of Dwayne’s predecessors, had even added a platform to serve as a second level to stuff in even more shelving and texts. It all smelled like a dying tree’s knothole, an effect that was enhanced by the single circular window that provided the only natural light, which currently illuminated a cabinet, a wood table, and three chairs.

Mei glanced at the nearest shelf and its mishmash of unfamiliar words and symbols. “I don’t think I can help.”

“You can. I’ll write out what we’re looking for.” Dwayne opened the cabinet. “It’s getting dark so we’ll need these.” He pulled out two glass jars and a large flask of cloudy liquid.

“What are those?”

“You’ll see.” Dwayne filled both jars with the contents of the flask contents then shook them until both glowed icy blue.

When Dwayne handed a jar to her, Mei gazed into it. “Is this magic?”

“nQe magic, I think. Magdala says it’s synthesized from blazebugs.” Dwayne returned the flask to the cabinet. “Blazebugs are rare in Soura, but they’re still cheaper than fire damage.”

Mei gave Dwayne a look. She’d never heard him worry about fire damage before or had ever seen his fire magic burn anything he hadn’t wanted it to. “How long does it last?”

“A couple of hours.” Dwayne hefted raised his own jar and went to the table. “We should be done by then.”

Mei followed. “Did Maggie make these for you?”

Dwayne laughed. “She tried once, but it blew up of course. She says those clothes still glow in the dark.” He tore a page out of his notebook. “How old do you think the windsong messenger was when he died?”

Mei thought back. “Not much older than us.”

“If that’s the case, then we’re looking for this.” Dwayne sketched out a lilac, a cup, and an eye. “This is Queen Sophia’s mark. And this.” He wrote out “Sobol” in block letters. “That was the Royal Sorcerer before Lord Kalan. Ignore anything else. I think you should start with the newest ledgers, which I think are over there.” He pointed to a far corner of the room. “I’m not certain, because this place has no organization. Oh, and ignore the scrolls. They’d long switched to codices by Sobol’s time.”

“What’s a codice?”

“Codex. It’s a book.”

“Got it.”

Raising her jar of light, Mei went over to the corner Dwayne had pointed out. Even ignoring the scrolls and the books marked with the names of previous Queens and their Royal Sorcerers, there was a lot to go through, and the way that everything had been stuffed into the shelves willy-nilly meant she had to look over each and every single book.

She glanced at Dwayne. He was carefully scanning book spines using his finger and muttering about them under his breath. Imitating him, Mei started with the highest shelf she could reach and started scanning. Names and symbols went by, none of them sticking in her mind despite the effort it took to decipher then. Then, finally, three full shelves in, she found a match.

“Dwayne!” She pulled the book out . “I found one.”

“That’s great! Let me save my place.” Dwayne pushed a piece of paper in between a couple of books and then joined Mei at her shelf. “Nice. I’ll start looking through this. You keep looking.”

As he took the book to the table, Mei resumed her scan. “How many of these are there?”

“I have no idea.” Dwayne had started to flip through the pages. “One day, I’ll have the time to inventory this place and create an index, but until then all we can do is look at every book and hope that none are missing.”

He didn’t sound hopeful. “Understood.”

Mei’s hunt continued, and soon she’d found seven more books at a speed that surprised Dwayne, who sent her up to the second level. There, after sifting through an enormous number of particularly dusty tomes, Mei found an eighth book hidden in a pile of old scrolls.

When she brought it to him, Dwayne called off the search. “I doubt we’re going to find more, and this one seems like it’s actually the latest one.” He put aside the one he’d been going through, and opened up the new one.

Mei peered over his shoulder. The pages of the ledger were covered in spiky writing and intricate symbols. She pointed at one that resembled a long-necked gourd. “What is that?”

Dwayne shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I think it means Earth Qe. Maybe it’s from a pre-Queendom language? I think the ancients used glyphs like these.”

“Glyphs?”

“Like Tuquese characters, but they look more like pictures than writing. We’re looking for Wind, which looks like a bird.” Dwayne resumed his skimming. “Earth. Water.” The water symbol looked sleek and fat with little fins instead of wings. “Water. Water. Huh, weird, there’s a lot of Water Qe licenses. Earth. Earth. There we are. Wind.” He frowned. “No, this one for a woman. An old woman. An old noble woman, I recognize the name. Onwards.”

Leaving Dwayne to his task, Mei drifted over to the window and looked out over the woods that stretched south all the way to Bradford. She let her eyes follow the thin road that wound through the woods to the brightening city, the same one that crossed the Brad River and ran on beyond the city walls. From here, she couldn’t see Sanford or the warehouse tenement she and her brother lived in, but she could see the Palace glittering on its hill. Bradford sat on a plain as flat as its ever present clouds unlike Mei’s birthplace, which was filled with hills and mountains.

It had been months since Mei had seen her home, wandered up its steep paths, bathed in its cold springs. Her brother never mentioned Tuqu. He didn’t seem to miss it.

A carriage was making its way up the road towards the Tower.

Mei cleared her throat. “Maggie’s here.”

“She is? I have to get ready.” Dwayne got up, thrust a scrap of paper into Mei’s hand with a “Here’s a list of candidates” before he rushed downstairs.

Mei called out after him. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome!”

Before going downstairs herself, Mei looked over the list, which had four entries, each with a date and a rough drawing of a boat and an elm tree, which was weird since the victim had had a yellow bird on his bag, but maybe that was personal decoration.

When Mei reached the first floor, there was a loud knock on the outside door. She tensed. Maggie’s carriage hadn’t been that close. Cautiously, she went to the door and opened it. “Yes?”

A windsong in black leather saluted. “Are you Miss Mei Ma?”

“Yes?” Behind the messenger, Maggie’s carriage was still making its up the road.

“I have a message from Senior Scrytive Charles Vogt for you, miss.” A plain white envelope sealed with black wax was placed in Mei’s hand. “Have a good evening.” Then with a quick word, the windsong was gone.

Mei hadn’t quite figured out how to react by the time Maggie’s carriage arrived. When the red-haired mage stepped out, she glanced up at the sky and asked, “What was that all about?”

“Oh, don’t bother about that, dear.” A wrinkled hand reached out of the carriage and grabbed Maggie’s shoulder. “Help me out of this cursed contraption.”

“Yes, Gran.” Maggie turned back to the carriage and helped an old woman in a blood-red shawl climb out of the carriage.

When she’d gotten both feet on the ground, Gran glared up at the Tower. “I thought you said that that boy of yours was going to meet us at the door?”

Maggie’s ears turned red. “He’s not ‘my boy.’”

“Oh, sorry, slip of the tongue, dear.” Maggie probably missed the wink Gran threw Mei’s way. “And you’d be Mei the Axesnapper.”

That nickname really got around. Mei bowed. “Yes.”

Maggie winced. “Mei, this is my grandmother, Lady Stefanie Gallus.”

“Oh, just call me Gran.” The old woman winked again. “Stefanie Gallus is my granddaughter.”

“Gran!” Maggie sucked in a breath. Her next words came in an overly bright tone. “You got a letter, Mei?”

Mei tore her eyes away from the flashes of amusement in Gran’s eyes. “Yes.”

“What’s it about?”

“I will see.” Mei tore open the envelope and then squinted at the weird curvy characters. “‘Puh…Pleaz…Please meet me at Engelhaous on Unterfr-foss at the tenth bell.’ What?”

Maggie glanced at the message. “‘Engelhaus on Unterfluss’. Not bad though.”

Mei grinned. “I’ve been practicing.”

“Magdala dear,” Gran nudged her granddaughter, “I suggest you practice good manners and get me inside.”

Maggie blanched. “Sorry, Gran.”

“Here.” Mei offered Gran her arm.

“Thank you.” The old woman’s weight was practically nothing. “So, where is young Kalan? He should have met us by the door.”

“He is getting ready.”

“He isn’t ready?” Maggie helped Mei take Gran across the reception area. “He knew we were coming. What was he doing until now?”

“Helping me find the dead windsong.” Mei guided Gran around the desk. “He gave me a list.”

“What list?”

“Who died?” asked Gran.

“I’m trying to find out.” Mei handed Maggie the list before starting Gran down the stairs.

They’d made it halfway down the first flight before Maggie said, “Mei… None of these people are the victim.”

Mei’s stomach flipped. “What?”

“See this coat of arms?” Maggie showed Mei the boat and elm tree. “It belongs to Francesca’s mother’s company.”

“Oh, we would have heard if a Lucchesi had died,” said Gran. “Their Matriarch would have had the Queendom flipped over in her search to find the killer.”

“So,” Mei allowed Gran to make her own way into the basement, “I have nothing?”

Maggie patted Mei’s arm. “You do know that the victim wasn’t licensed.”

That was cold comfort to Mei after two days of hunting.

Dwayne rushed towards them. “Magdala, I’m sorry I-“ He stopped. “Lady Gallus, I, uh, didn’t expect to see you.”

“Young Kalan.” Gran’s eyes gleamed. “It seems that both my son and my daughter-in-law are irrevocably busy, so I volunteered-“

“Demanded,” muttered Maggie.

“-to take their place. Why don’t you get me situated?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As Gran took Dwayne’s arm and allowed herself to be guided to a chair on the other end of the room, Maggie leaned close to Mei, her voice lowered. “I’m confused though. How was the victim a windsong without a license?”

Mei stared blankly at Maggie. “Don’t they just speak Qe?”

“No, I mean, yes, but-”

“So who started this courtship, you or my granddaughter?” asked Gran.

“Cups, no. We’ll talk later, Mei.” Maggie rushed to rescue a stammering Dwayne. “Gran, we’re not courting.”

“Why not? Don’t you want to?”

As both mages spluttered denials, Mei went back upstairs. She had to tell Charlie the bad news.

***

Once he and Magdala had taken their seats at the basement table, Dwayne asked Magdala, in a whisper, “Why is she here?”

“Mother is… busy,” answered Magdala, “and Father is dealing with a crisis down at the Southern Line.”

Dwayne’s mouth went dry. “Has… has there been another attack?” If the Vanurians tried to kidnap Lord Kalan again…

Magdala shook her head. “It’s nothing big. Just the seasonal skirmishes.”

Seasonal skirmishes did sound big, but it was enough to calm Dwayne’s nerves. “Okay.”

“Speak up, you two,” called out Grandma Gallus. “You do not want me to to have to make something up when Gary and Iona ask what you were up to, do you?”

“No, Gran!” Magdala grabbed the nearest vial and looked down at it. “What are we working on today?”

Dwayne selected a couple of completed spell vials. “We’re going to take spell vials, switch around their magical cores, and record the results.”

“Oh.” Magdala accepted the notes Dwayne had taken. “Um, what about that proposal you mentioned?”

Dwayne froze. “Oh, that.” In the haze of discovery, he’d forgotten. “This is it.”

“Oh. I thought… Nevermind.” She read his notes and frowned. “You want to fill out these tables?”

She sounded disappointed. “Yeah, I need to be thorough.”

“Like you were with Mei?”

“Sorry, what?”

“That list you gave her is completely useless. All of those licenses are already accounted for.”

Dwayne blinked. “They are?”

“Everyone knows what the Lucchesi company crest looks like. It’s quite distinctive.”

“Is it?” Dwayne headed off Magdala’s next outburst before it made his growing headache worse. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had time to study company crests, not after looking up all the noble seals and the many many spells I have to learn for class.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Magdala bristled. “That’s no-”

“Magdala, dear,” Grandma Gallus’s eyes were closed, “he’s only human.”

“But-“

“No, ‘buts’ about it. Apologize.”

Magdala sighed and clearly gave up on an argument she’d lost too many times to win. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Let’s just get this done.”

“Okay…” Dwayne put Qesuyit’s spell vial on a rack next to Qesheffuf’s. “We need to take out the magical cores, wash them with water, then switch them.”

Magdala took a set of pincers. “I’m so excited to do more busy work.”

“Magdala, this could change everything.”

“I hope it does because it mainly looks like busy work.” Magdala snatched Qesuyit’s core out of its vial. “I mean you could be studying something exciting like fi-”

Dwayne’s hand covered Magdala’s mouth in an instant. He waited for her shock then anger and then horror to pass before pulling it away. She turned from him and said in a loud voice, “I mean something exciting like final practicals.”

“I don’t want to think about those yet.” Dwayne wanted to apologize, but it was hard to apologize for protecting such an important secret. He was about to anyway when Magdala turned back to him and placed her hand on his with a muttered “Sorry.”

“Me, too,” he muttered back.

“Are you two purring at each other again?”

Dwayne pushed back from Magdala. “No, we were just discussing details.”

“Yes… that.” Magdala had fixed her stare on the spell vials. “There are some details here that-”

“You know I don’t care about details.” Grandma Gallus settled back into her chair. “Just get on with it.”

Dwayne and Magdala went back to work. When they’d taken out both magical cores and had them soaking in separate bath, Magdala asked Dwayne, “Is there something more interesting we could work on? I’ve spent all day doing boring tests.”

“Tests?” Dwayne took out one of the cores. “Not practicals?”

“No, tests.” Magdala paused with her core dripping onto the table. “Oh, I didn’t… You don’t know. I, uh, joined the College of Martial Magic the other day.”

Dwayne grinned. “That sounds right up your alley.”

“Well,” Magdala winced, “it’s not as interesting as chasing murderers.”

“Mei is chasing murderers.” Dwayne dropped his core into its new home. “I’m investigating those recent thefts.”

“Oh, why?”

As they continued to set up the experiment, a stone for Qesheffuf and a cloth for Qesuyit, Dwayne told Magdala about Baron Thadden and his requirements.

“He sounds insufferable,” said Magdala as Dwayne corked the spell vials. “Is he really your only option?”

“He’s not that bad. At least, he’s taking this seriously.” Unlike Lord Kalan and Lady Pol. “Ready?”

Magdala double-checked the vials and then nodded. “Ready.”

She took notes as Dwayne tried to cast using the switched-core spell vials and failed.

“Interesting.” Magdala inspected Qesuyit’s vial. “What if switching the cores polluted the solution, even though we washed the cores?”

“Maybe. Let’s switch them back and see.”

Once they did so, Dwayne tried to cast again and succeeded.

“Huh.” Magdala stared at the results she’d written. “The effect was less, but you’d think that the pollution would happen again.”

“Right?” Dwayne beamed at her. “My guess is that the azade solution is somehow storing magical resonance.”

“Which could mean that when we switched the cores, the replacement core’s resonance interfered with that in the solution. In that case, what if we did this?” Magdala went to work again.

Dwayne snorted. “I thought you were bored of experiments.”

“I was, but that was because I forgot that we don’t actually know what will happen next.” Magdala put the cores back in their respective water baths. “At the College, Fletcher and I are just doing the same thing over and over again.”

The name wasn’t familiar. “Who’s Fletcher?”

“He’s my laboratory partner. You might want to talk to his sister. Apparently, they were robbed the other night.” Magdala corked the now core-less vials and handed one to Dwayne. “Here, try this.”

“Try what? There’s no…” Dwayne blinked. If the azade solution really was storing magical resonance, then maybe… Grinning, he took the vial and said, “Qesheffuf.”

A divot formed in the stone.

And there was no core in the vial.

“Cups.” Magdala put her hand on Dwayne’s. “It works.”

“Yeah,” Dwayne’s hand curled around hers. “It works.”

They looked at each other. “It works!”

“What works?” Both mages sprang apart from each other as Grandma Gallus peered between them at the afflicted stone. Somehow, she’d gotten up and approached without either of them noticed. “You’re a Qe mage and you did Qe magic. Why are you surprised?”

Luckily, Dwayne could just provide the truth. “Because this is extremely strong evidence for the correctness of Resonance Theory.”

“Bah.” Grandma Gallus made her way back to her seat. “Maggie tried to explain that to me, and I said that no one will believe it until you’ve got sparks flying out your finger tips.”

Dwayne was too struck by the irony to respond.

“Gran, we don’t have the materials for that,” said Magdala.

“Actually,” Dwayne glanced the box of spell vial materials, “we do.”

“We do?” Magdala’s eyes narrowed. “No, we don’t.”

“I have a feather from a Huo-Niao bird.” Dwayne pulled a shimmering red feather out of the box. “From what I’ve read, this bird can be trained to start campfires.”

Magdala’s lips parted. “I didn’t know you had that.”

“Seems like a bad replacement for flint.”

“Yes, Gran.” Magdala took the feather from Dwayne and gazed at it. “What’s its spell?”

“We’ll have to find out.” If what Dwayne had read was accurate, then the feather should produce a spark. Maybe if he used Na’cch… No. He’d made an oath. “I’ll work on it in my spare time.” What little he had left.

“Strange that that this is the first time you’ve tried something other than Qe.” Grandma Gallus settled into her seat. “Very strange.”

Dwayne muttered, “Is she getting suspicious?”

As she dropped the feather into an empty vial, Magdala shook her head. “I think we should push this further. Do you think changing the proportions of water to azade would make the solution hold more resonance?”

“It’s possible.” Dwayne noted down the results of the experiment. “Since we know that water doesn’t hold resonance, a higher proportion of azade should produce stronger effects. If we just go with these ranges…” He drew a large table with over a dozen ranges and then winced. “I don’t have time for this. I barely have enough time for the stuff I planned to do today.”

“Oh, uh…” Magdala kept her eyes on the water she was pouring into the vial. “What if I took over?”

The simple question sent electricity through Dwayne, along with a little bit of guild that he hadn’t thought to ask her to share the load. “You’d do that?”

“For you?” Magdala’s eyes flicked to his. “Yes. Besides, I think Dean Bruce would be far more interested in this than aerosolization.”

And if she took over, Dwayne could focus on Thadden’s requirements, maybe even talk to this Fletcher’s sister. “Thank you.”

The corners of Magdala’s lips quirked as she dumped a measure of azade powder into the solution. “You’re welcome.” After dropping the feather into the vial, she muttered “nQerm” and finished the new Ri spell vial. “There.”

Dwayne took the vial and corked it. “Thank you.” There was a pregnant pause. “Um, I have to put these results into the Terminal Tome.”

“Oh, can I watch?”

“Sure.”

Dwayne led Magdala to the sunken podium and flourished the License Key. A short light show later, the Terminal Tome rested on the raised platform.

“That’s quite the trick.” Grandma Gallus frowned at the metal plate in Dwayne’s hand. “Aren’t you a bit young to have your own mage license?”

“No, this is…” Dwayne’s protest died. It was called the License Key and some of the symbols on it did resemble the one Mei had made him search through. “Huh.”

“So this is the Terminal Tome?” asked Magdala.

“In all its glory.” Dwayne opened it up and said, “‘Seizure of Thaumaturgical Essence in Azade.’” As words scrawled themselves onto the page, he began to explain. “Reading this abstract, you can see-”

“I don’t see anything.”

Dwayne blinked at Magdala. When Mei had said the same thing, he’d assumed that only mages could see inside the Terminal, but that clearly wasn’t the case. He glanced at the metal plate in his hand. There was one other difference.

“Here,” he pressed the License Key into Magdala’s hand, “take this.”

She blinked. “Oh, wow. That is weird.”

For some reason, Dwayne could still read the book even without the License Key, but this was no time to investigate why. He flipped to the methodology section. “You mentioned increasing the proportion of azade to water in the solution. What if we do what they did and just make a solid ball of azade to cast with?”

“That would be a lot of azade, but I think I can manage it.” Magdala skimmed the text. “The spells also worked for lay people, too?”

“Oh, that would be a treat,” said Grandma Gallus wistfully.

“It only worked once then broke,” said Dwayne.

“Ah, that’s unfortunate.”

“Why did it only work once?” asked Magdala. “The spell vials don’t break.”

“Maybe because they’re liquid?”

“Maybe.” Magdala flipped the page and then looked up at Dwayne and grinned. “What if we tried Qe?”

Dwayne’s head jerked back. “Sorry, what?”

Magdala returned to flipping through the paper. “Pity. They weren’t nearly as thorough as you so there’s no record of what else they tried, but-“

“Wait,” Dwayne stopped her from turning the next page, “you want to try Qe? A root syllable?”

Magdala frowned. “Yes?”

Her honest confusion at something that was obviously obvious to her made the floor drop out from under Dwayne’s feet. What the other mage was proposing was a clear path to solving the problem that Dwayne and Lord Kalan had been chipping away at for months. For the second time tonight, Magdala was taking a massive weight off Dwayne’s shoulders, although this time he’d have to let go with reluctance. If he let her do this, he wouldn’t personally be there to witness this triumph.

Despite that, he heard himself say, “You do it.”

“Me?” Magdala’s eyebrows lifted. “I was just going to do the other thing. We can do this one together.”

“No, I don’t have time to work on it.” Dwayne went to the table, collected his notes and papers, and handed them to her. “Take these. They’ll be more than enough to get you started.”

“Wait.” Magdala caught him by elbow. “This is your work. You should find out if this works.”

Dwayne put his hand on hers. “I will. When I don’t need the shunts anymore.”

Magdala’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“You should go.” Dwayne collected the License Key and dismissed the Terminal Tome. “I need to go back to Sanford, and you should start writing up your methodology.”

“Um,” Magdala clutched his notes to her chest, “are you sure? I’m not the best at this.”

Dwayne glared at her. “We literally wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Magdala smiled. “Okay. Then I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

When Magdala had disappeared up the stairs, Dwayne sighed.

“I’ve seen that look before.”

Dwayne jumped. “Lady Gallus?”

The old woman rose to her feet. “Pragmatism, sadness and disappointment. You Qe mages are so rational you fall into the most dramatic passions.”

Dwayne found himself unable to say anything.

Grandma Gallus sighed. “Well, while your figure out what you really want, help an old woman up the stairs before her eldest granddaughter leaves her behind.”

***

From the roof of Engelhaus, which was a beer hall that had been converted from an old warehouse, Mei crouched in the shadow of a large smokestack and watched. Most of beer hall’s customers were common laborers, The Exchange’s day-shift drinking off stress, its night-shift drinking in courage. However, there were non-Sourans among them, like the laughing clique of Vanurian youths, the silent band of Wesen women, the two Tuquese men in shiny, heavy armor who’d marched in. However, the main point of interest for Mei ran from the beer hall’s roof to the other old warehouse buildings to the north and west, a thick braided cable. Hiding in the shadow of a large smokestack belching the smells of cooked sausage and cabbage, Mei now sat a couple of wir from where the cable attached to the roof. She’d arrived early, around when the distant church bells had rung in the ninth bell, but she didn’t mind. It was easy to wait.

At the other end of the cable, three figures poked their heads up to survey the situation. Roofrunners. These weren’t the first Mei had seen approach the cable, but they were the most cautious. One of them, who looked to be the tallest, held back the other two until they were sure that no one below was looking up, then at a signal, the three of them dashed across the cable.

As they did so, Mei slid deeper into the shadow of the smokestack, which was lucky because the tall one was now carefully checking the roof. Now that they were closer, it was clear that they all wore a kind of uniform, brown jackets and gray caps and the same kind of soft soled boots that Huan had worn while thieving. Two of the roofrunners were unfamiliar to Mei, but she caught a glimpse of the tall one’s lean build and brown eyes and recognized both. They were the same roofrunner Mei had chased two days ago.

When they were done with their sweep, Mei’s escaped quarry hugged their two companions, led the way to a small hatch that had been built into the beer hall’s roof, and then knelt to knock three, then two, and then four times. It took a long time for the hatch to rattle open, but when it did, all three roofrunners dropped in, Mei’s quarry the last to go in.

After a quick check to make sure no other roofrunners were coming, Mei stepped out of her hiding place and made her way to the hatch, adjusting her old hunting clothes as she went. She hadn’t had reason to wear them since arriving in Bradford, so it had surprised her how well they fitted now. Before they’d been too large for her, a mix of her father and her brother’s old clothes, but now even though they were still a little too long, they now fit like a past life grown past. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Mei made sure that her dagger was on her belt and her rifle on her back before she knelt to inspect the hatch. It was made of rusted metal and had no handle to speak of, which meant that it had to be opened from the inside, which meant she’d have to use the code to get in. She considered covering her face, there was a chance that her erstwhile quarry would recognize her, but that reminded her of Tiger and secrets, both things that made her squirm. So, instead she knocked on the hatch three, then two, and then four times.

Like before, there was a pause before bolts were unbolted, locks were unlocked, and the hatch rattled open. “Hey, you’re late! The meeting’s already started.” A thick-jawed green-eyed woman peered up at Mei. “Who are you?”

“Mei.” Before the woman could stop her, she dropped through the hatch. “I have questions.”

Behind Thick-Jaw lounged more roofrunners on shabby sofas and soft chairs. One of whom, a long-limbed girl with brown eyes and hair, saw Mei and froze. So much for not being recognized.

Thick-Jaw’s bulk came between Mei and the roofrunners. “You have questions? I have a buxing question: how in Vuse did you get our code?”

Mei shrugged. “I watched.”

“You…” Thick-Jaw turned on her heel. “Sioned, I thought I told you to be buxing careful when you come here!”

“I was careful, Boss, mighty careful.” Sioned’s accent abhorred hard sounds, just like the hunters back in Anders. “I swear me and mine weren’t followed the whole way.”

Her boss went red. “Then why is this buxing outsider- What, what is it?”

A small boy stopped pulling at the Thick-Jaw’s sleeve and went up on tip toe to whisper in her ear.

“What in Vuse is he doing here?” Thick-Jaw’s nose curled. “Doesn’t matter. Bring him up. Where was I?” She resumed glaring at Sioned. “I told you to be careful!”

“Promise, I was, Boss,” Sioned’s voice quivered, “promise!”

“She was,” said Mei.

Thick-Jaw’s scolding had given Mei time to get the lay of the land. They were currently standing on top of the shelving that was a requirement for all of the working warehouses in the city, the kind that went all the way up to the ceiling. Here though most of them had been replaced with long tables and kitchen equipment, leaving three sets to push together and make a high up hidey-hole. Because of how high up it was, and the noise of laughing and clanking and clapping coming up from the hall, any secret meetings held here would stay secret.

“I was already on the roof when they came.”

“You were on our roof?” Thick-Jaw advanced on Mei. “Who are you? A scout from FoxBrute? BadgerClaw? If it’s BadgerClaw, you tell ‘em that our truce is off and I’m coming for ‘em legal-like.”

What strange names. Mei shook her head.

Thick-Jaw’s fists curled. “Then why are you here?”

“I have questions.” Mei clasped her hands in front of her and away from her weapons. “Six nights ago, did any of you see a windsong get chased?”

As Sioned shifted on the soft, her boss sneered. “We don’t answer to outsiders, especially a Quesie. Go ask your questions at that fancy compound of yours.”

That response begged another question, but Mei put it aside. “I just want to find out who murdered him.”

“Is that all?” Thick-Jaw laughed through clenched teeth. “Do we look like we mess with mage murderers? We’re just simple lay folk. We ain’t got the punch to handle someone who can kill a mage. Now,” she drew a long knife, “I suggest you go back the way you came.”

“Well, that would be unfortunate, Boss Angel, since Mei only came to talk.” Charlie finished climbing up from the floor below. He wiped down his face with a handkerchief. “Whew! Those ladders are not getting any shorter.”

“Vogt. You know this… girl?”

“I do. And so do you.” Charlie grinned at Boss Angel. “She’s Mei Axesnapper.”

His pronouncement had a mixed effect on the boss and her roofrunners. While Boss Angel stared at Mei, her roofrunners mainly frowned or shrugged.

“Well, she doesn’t look like much,” said Boss Angel, crossing her arms. “Where’s her famous ax?”

“I broke it,” answered Mei.

“Hence the name.” Charlie reached Mei and put an arm around her shoulders. “Excuse us a moment, Boss. We need to discuss a point of order.” He lowered his voice. “I thought I told you to wait for me.”

Mei frowned. “You didn’t say where. I was on the roof.”

“Ah, I’ll be specific next time.” Charlie turned them back to the roofrunners. “Boss, I’d love a favor.”

The boss’s eyes darted to Mei. “You want us to answer her questions.”

“Yes, in exchange for one month’s exclusive work opportunities for your Shaderats.”

“That’s a tempting offer, but my Shaderats handle all manner of sensitive material. Despite our best efforts, we know all sorts of things that if we revealed them would be bad for business.” Boss Angel’s eyes settled on Mei’s. “For one month, she gets to ask one of us, not all of us.”

“What if she chooses the wrong person?” asked Charlie.

“Then you’ll have to make a better deal. Like, say, six months.”

“That sounds like an almost permanent arrangement. Four months and five people.”

“Five and three.”

As Charlie’s negotiations continued, Mei kept her eyes on the roofrunners, only one of whom didn’t look bored or angry.

“I only need to talk to her.” Mei pointed at Sioned.

Sioned jumped. “But I don’t know nothing.”

Charlie lowered his voice. “Are you sure? I have some leeway here.”

“I’m sure,” said Mei.

Boss Angel’s jaw flexed. “You think she’s weak because I scolded her. You just want to bully her.”

Mei shook her head. “I just want to ask her questions.”

“Fine.” Boss Angel turned to Charlie. “We have a deal. One month.”

“One person.” Charlie held out his hand.

After shaking Charlie’s hand, Boss Angel said, “Sioned, go have a chat with the Queasie.”

Sioned scrambled to her feet. “But Boss!”

“Go. You know what our word means.”

Sioned deflated. “Yeah, I know. Our word is our word. Come on, Queasie.”

Still wondering what “Queasie” meant, Mei followed Sioned past the sofas and chairs to an unoccupied corner of the platform, where the roofrunner leaned against the railing and asked, “What’s your questions?”

Compared to the other roofrunners, Sioned’s clothes looked practically new. Neither her jacket nor her trousers had any holes in them and her boot had only recent scuff marks on them. Even the knife in her belt seemed new.

But Mei didn’t ask about that. “Did you see?”

Expressions contorted Sioned’s face for a long while before it still, and she said, “Yes. Was that all?”

No, but Boss Angel’s bully comment reminded Mei to try and step lightly. “What does a roofrunner do?”

Sioned stared at Mei. “We deliver stuff like messages and lunches.”

“Like windsong?”

Sioned scoffed. “Not like them. Windsong, proper windsong, only work for the nobby, the rich, and people like you with fancy daggers on their hip. Even provies barely deign to work for commoners.”

Mei frowned. “Provies?”

“Come on, you got to know about the provies.” Sioned gestured wildly. “Them mages with the new provisional licenses?”

Assuming “proper” meant “had a license”, that would explain why these “provies” weren’t in Dwayne’s books in the Tower. “Was the windsong being chased a provy?”

“Yeah, probably.” Sioned looked away. “I mean, he had that dusky kind of Vanurian look to him, and I ain’t never seen a proper mage with South blood in ‘em. Maybe that’s why they-”

“They?” Mei stepped closer. “How many were there?”

Sioned’s jaw tightened. “Not many. Just three.””

“Was one of them a windsong?”

Sioned’s eyes snapped to Mei. “How did you know that? Were you there?”

“No, I guessed.” Sioned’s reactions were strange. “So one was windsong?”

Sioned’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Were the other two armed?”

“Maybe. I didn’t really see. It happened so fast.” Sioned’s hand slid down to her stomach. “I… didn’t wanna stick around to find out. All I saw was a big man, a small man, and a windsong chasing the windsong.”

Sioned’s face had gone pale. Mei wanted to know what the roofrunner was afraid of, but she knew that fear put knots in tongues. She changed tack. “Where do provy licenses come from?”

Sioned frowned. “I don’t know, the Palace? They ain’t metal like the real ones. Probably because they’re issuing new ones all the time.”

“You’ve seen one before?”

Sioned blushed. “Ah, a provy was showing off and… Yeah, I got a good look at hers. It had a gray castle on it and some sort of animal.”

Mei held those images in her mind. “Castle? Or tower?”

Sioned shrugged. “There a difference?”

A gray tower meant the Royal Secretary’s Office, which would have records just like Dwayne’s Tower. “Thank you, Sioned.”

“Uh, you’re welcome?”

Mei left Sioned and found Charlie brooding by the downward hatch.

“You learn anything?” he asked. “Because I’ll be paying for lunch all next month because of this. Wagner and the others had better appreciate this.”

They would. Free lunch was amazing. “Our victim was a provy.” Mei relayed all the information that Sioned had given her. “We should check the Royal Secretary Office’s records.”

Charlie groaned. “Getting into the Gray Tower will be a pain.”

“Why?”

“Not only is it a cross-office request, not only am I going to have to ask for High Judge Koenig’s permission, but the Harvest Ball is coming up soon. The Gray Tower will be swamped with work. It’ll be weeks before we get a reply.”

“We could ask Dwayne to help.”

“Unless he was literally made Royal Sorcerer today,” Charlie shook his head, “he can’t help.”

That left sneaking into the offices, which, in addition to being something her brother used to do, would risk far too much. They needed another option, a real reason to go into the Royal Secretary’s Office. Sioned had mentioned that they were issuing a lot of provy licenses.

Charlie saw Mei’s shark grin. “What are you thinking?”

“That I know mages who need licenses.”