When Magdala wheeled her equipment cart into the alchemy lab for her first class of the day, her twenty-nine classmates ignored her and looked away pointedly as she took the seat next to a pretty girl in a crisp white pinafore over an anemone-colored dress.

“El.” Magdala adjusted her own pinafore. “Good morning.”

El’s eyes snapped to the description of the elemental separation spell in the textbook in front of her.

Magdala leaned in. “I can help you with that if you want.” That spell was the focus of today’s lesson. “The trick is to-”

“Only people I’m dating call me El.” The other girl turned the page. “We aren’t even friends, Gallus.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Her throat thick, Magdala turned to her cart and started to rummage through it. El - no, Eleonora - had been her last chance to get back into the nQe class’s good graces, but it was clear that even past affection couldn’t make up for the damage Magdala’s recklessness and suspension had caused. Even though she was the daughter of the Water Sage and the Lord Commander, it didn’t help.

After checking the other drawers in her cart for supplies, she slid open the bottom one and revealed a dozen tiny glass cuboids and a pile of paper covered in earnest but meandering writing. She smiled. At least neither of them cared about her past.

The classroom door opened, and an older woman about Magdala’s height strode in, her dark high waisted dress reflecting purple and green in the bright lamps. She faced her white pinafore’d students. “Good morning, class.”

Magdala jumped to her feet. “Good morning, Dean Laurence!” Her response was the loudest, everyone else had merely murmured their replies, but her mother had made it clear that Magdala’s full-throated participation was a requirement of her post-suspension.

After gesturing for her students to sit, Dean Laurence pulled a black oil crayon out of her pocket and turned to the white porcelain board hanging on the wall behind her. Using the crayon, she drew a dozen circles and lines, annotating them with numbers as she went. Still expecting the tap and scrape of chalk with each stroke, Magdala found herself fascinated by each silent swoop and curl. Both the crayon and the board were new, the results of the efforts the Magisterium’s nQe college and its alumni put into alchemical research. While the boards weren’t easier to clean than the old slateboards, the crayons were silent and left your skirt clean. There were benefits to being an nQe mage and they almost made up for the lack of prestige.

When she finished, Dean Laurence patted the skirt of her dress clean of nonexistent chalk dust, dropped the oil crayon on her desk, and turned to the class. “Who knows what this is?”

Magdala winced. She’d failed to actually pay attention to what Laurence had actually written on the board. Quickly, she scanned the diagrams. There were three, each composed of circles marked one, eight, and thirteen. Which elements did those refer to again? One was hydrogen, eight was oxygen, and thirteen was…

A hand shot up. “Cairnite?” A ash brown haired boy at the front of the class stood up. “It’s an ore from the north west.”

“Correct, Colin.” Dean Laurence favored him with a slight smile. “And what is cairnite’s main use here in our queendom?”

Magdala jumped to her feet. “As a source of aluminum metal. Those three configurations are the primary states we find aluminum in.”

“Correct, Lady Gallus.” Dean Laurence waited for Magdala to sit back down before continuing. “Aluminum is very prevalent in the soil, more so than copper, lead, or iron. Despite this, what is it mainly used for?”

Chairs were pushed back.

“Wagon frames,” answered Magdala.

“Jewelry,” answered Colin.

Magdala glared at the back of the boy’s head. Colin Fletcher was a rare newcomer, and the rarer boy, to the nQe class. Born to farmers out west, he’d only moved to Bradford within the past year to live with his sister, who was an alumni of the Academy.

Magdala cleared her throat. “Road merchants use aluminum in their wagons to make them light and strong.”

“But that’s all Wesen stuff.” Colin turned to her. “The aluminum we extract from Cairnborne is mainly used as jewelry. Maybe flatware, if you’re rich.”

Magdala shook her head. “Jewelry and flatware barely account for a tenth of what Soura uses.”

“But they account for ninety percent of what we produce here in Soura. We should focus on that instead of-”

“Stop.” Dean Laurence’s voice stubbed out the conversation. “Sit back down, both of you.”

Her face burning, Magdala complied. The rest of her classmates were doing their best to pretend she hadn’t even spoken, although she could tell Colin wanted to say something more.

“While the young Lady Gallus has answered my question,” Dean Laurence started to pace back and forth at the head of the class, “Colin’s answer leads us to today’s practical. While we don’t know what primitive process the Ri uses to extract aluminum from its ore, we nQe have our own more elegant process, and it will be a valuable skill when you graduate. I’ve assigned lab partners.” She quelled the resulting groans by asking, “Shall I lecture you again on the value of cooperation and its gainful effects on creativity and problem-solving?”

As Eleonora and the rest of the class answered in the negative, Magdala’s eyes dropped to the table. She was secretly glad that they weren’t choosing their own lab partners. Last time they’d done that, her classmates had humiliated her by arguing over who would be forced to take her as a partner.

Laurence picked up a sheet of paper off her desk. “Houseknecht and Wilson, take table one. Ricci and Lashbrooke, table two. Bolton and…”

Magdala kept her eyes on the board and tried to ignore the looks of dismay Eleonora and others sent her way. All she needed was a decent lab partner, and she’d survive this class. Repeat that feat two more times, and she’d make it to lunch where she’d meet Mei, Francesca, and, if his schedule allowed it, Dwayne. Then she could recharge for the afternoon and do it all again.

“Canale and Davies, table eight.”

Eleonora leapt up, grabbed her equipment cart, and fled to a table in the center of the classroom. There she and Davies settled in, muttering to each other and stealing glances at Magdala. To keep her mind off of her former girlfriend, Magdala reviewed her reading, which had described using the separation spell for the extraction of aluminum from Cairnite as “an exercise in mental classification and sieving,” which didn’t sound that hard. After all, making spell vials with Dwayne had given Magdala a lot of practice with classification. She’d only blown him up once, and, honestly, that had been his fault since-

“Fletcher and Gallus. Table eleven.”

Magdala stood, ready to protest, but a single look from Dean Laurence silenced her, and, since obedience was another requirement of Magdala’s post-suspension, she grabbed her cart and wheeled it to the front of the class, whispers sprouting in her wake.

“Better him than me.”

“You think she’s going to blow up the class again?”

“Can you believe Lucchesi still lunches with her?”

“Can you believe Lucchesi still rooms with her?

Magdala sat down, her eyes itching. It was just another day. She’d get through this.

Rhythmic squeaks announced Colin’s arrival to the table. As he took the stool next to hers, Magdala kept her eyes on the board, not trusting herself to be civil, not yet. Silently, they waited for Dean Laurence to finish assigning the rest of the lap partners.

When the dean finally left to get the materials, Colin tapped Magdala on the shoulder and extended a thin pale hand when she turned to face him. “Truce, Lady Gallus?”

He had a gaunt pale face and thick, dark, wavy hair that made his head look twice as big. His large hair matched his oversized pinafore, which was big enough to contain two of him.

Before her suspension, Magdala would have written him off, and part of her still wanted to. Colin was poor and untitled. His sister was a glorified stonemason, and there was only one other mage in his family, an aunt who lived on the family farm. Being nice, or even civil to him, would gain Magdala nothing. However, during her suspension Magdala had met many people like him: Mei, Saundra, Dwayne. She wouldn’t write him off.

Magdala took his hand and shook it. “Truce.”

“Cups.” Colin winced at her grip. “What were you doing on suspension?”

Well, she’d tried. “I thought you were a farmer.”

“What, so I should have a stronger grip?” Colin’s lips curled. “Or maybe my skin should be darker?” Just like the rest of the class, he knew about Dwayne.

Magdala gave him an arch look. “I was just expecting more of one. Farming is hard work after all.”

Colin’s eyes dropped. “I…I… studied instead.”

They both jumped when a fist-sized pink rock thumped onto the table.

“Your sample.” Dean Laurence continued on, pushing a wheelbarrow full of rocks that she dropped onto tabletops as she passed. “Today, you will extract aluminum from its ore. This will require the spell…”

“nQeaukidivem,” answered the class, evading lecture.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Correct.” Leaving the empty wheelbarrow at the back of the classroom, the dean returned to the front. “Take care. This is an oxide so the possibility of explosive incidents is very high,” the eyes of the class burned Magdala’s back, “but we’re manipulating non-living materials so the interactions should be quite manageable.”

The girl sitting behind Magdala muttered, “Bet Lady Gallus messes it up anyway.”

Not this time. Magdala wrenched open the middle drawer of her equipment cart and grabbed fresh paper, a new pencil, and her copy of Bodin’s Encyclopedia of Elemental Components. As she laid them out on the table, Colin did the same, taking out some used paper, a stub of a pencil, and an old dog-eared edition of Bodin’s.

Surely, he could afford a new pencil. No, Magdala had a practical to complete. Focus on that.

She placed her hands on the rock and closed her eyes. “nQeoum.”

Alchemical formulas poured into her mind, informing her that - besides the expected oxygen, hydrogen, and aluminum - the ore also contained small amounts of iron and titanium, metals that would spark given any opportunity. She’d have to account for that when she made the separation. She made a quick note.

Colin tried to peek at what she’d written. “What did you see?”

Magdala didn’t look up. “There’s more than just aluminum in there.” She pushed the rock over to him.

He did the same spell and nodded. “Oh, okay, that makes sense. Iron and titanium aren’t as common, but they ain’t, aren’t, rare either.”

They’d need to be held in place. Maybe Magdala should try a composite spell? No, nQe magic was hard enough with just one target. Doing the same spell on different targets at the same time was far too hard. However, Colin was here too. Surely, it would be easier if- “We do the spell simultaneously.”

Colin’s eyes widened. “This is the first time we’ve even had a conversation, and you want to do a joint spell?”

Surely, they’d talked before. “Just… keep the iron and titanium from interacting with the aluminum.” Magdala would transmute the gases into water, leaving them with just the metals. Placing her hands on the rock, she closed her eyes. “I’ll do the rest.”

“Wait!”

“nQeaukidive.”

She was in. Dimly aware of Colin casting his own spell, Magdala reached for the aluminum in the rock and found far more than she’d expected. Still, it was easy enough to catch every bit of it. Making spell vial suspensions almost daily had expanded her capacity by quite a bit after all. “Got it. I’m pulling it out.”

“Cups, you’re going too fast!”

“Just keep up.”

Before coming back to Bradford, Magdala and Dwayne had done joint magic together and saved her lord uncle from poisoning. Back then, their magics - her low thrumming bass and Dwayne’s high clear note - had entered a thrilling harmony, which had crescendoed and took their breaths away. Ever since, she’d wanted to try that again, feel what she’d felt then, though not in front of her parents. It felt too intimate for that.

But this time Colin’s magic clashed with hers like two bass lines fighting for control, and worse, instead of holding the iron and titanium steady like she’d told him, Colin was trying to move them out of her way, creating attractions that made it much harder for her to extract the aluminum.

“Stop that,” said Magdala.

The rock sparked.

Colin tsked. “You’re supposed to be working with me, not-”

“Just do what I said and- cups!” `The aluminum slipped free from Magdala’s control and hurtled towards the other metals. Since she hadn’t converted the hydrogen and oxygen yet - those were volatile elements at the best of times - if she didn’t do something, the metals would ignite them.

Maybe they’d get away with easily treatable wounds. Maybe, but what would Dean Laurence think? She was the one who’d suspended Magdala in the first place, had even stood up to the Water Sage herself and opposed allowing Magdala back in. When this little bomb went off, wouldn’t Laurence expel Magdala and force her to go to her mother in shame? Wouldn’t her mother in turn disown Magdala and abandoned her to do minor magics in the service of lesser nobles and merchants? Wouldn’t Dwayne and Mei have to take pity on her and hire her to work in the Indigo Tower as a lowly attendant? Well, that wouldn’t be so bad. She’d be free. Maybe she should let her reputation go up in a burst of light and heat.

But Colin could barely afford pencils. Could he afford a physician?

“nQerm!” Magdala released the aluminum and slapped the oxygen and hydrogen together, making water and dousing the electrical charge building in the rapidly disintegrating ore. With a thunk, a misshapen chunk of aluminum landed onto the table, scattering beads of iron and titanium to the floor.

Magdala pulled her hands away, the edges of a headache building behind her eyes. “There.”

Colin stared at his wet hands. “What did you do?”

“Completed the practical.”

“Lady Gallus. Colin.” Dean Laurence walked over to their table and surveyed the carnage. She glanced at Magdala and Colin’s wet hands. “Joint magic?”

Colin pointed at Magdala. “She insisted.”

“Messy,” Laurence inspected the chunk of aluminum, “but very effective.”

Magdala felt the room spin. “I’m sorry, ma’am?”

Her teacher gestured to the rest of the class, none of whom had gotten very far in their extractions as only a few had even turned their ore silvery. The rest were trading the rock back and forth with no visible progress.

“Official Magisterium policy is that joint magic is vulgar,” said the dean, “but for us nQe mages, its benefits outweigh the… emotional downsides. Still,” she glanced at Magdala’s hands, “I suspect this attempt nearly went awry. I’m glad you did not hurt yourself, Colin, or my classroom, young Lady Gallus, but next time be less high-handed.”

Colin hid a smile when Dean Laurence turned to him.

“Colin, this is exactly the kind of creativity that Dean Bruce expects out of you.” She smiled. “High marks, both of you. You may leave after you clean this mess up.”

***

Following her brother, Mei left Nieder Street and entered the chaos of The Exchange, where vendors from around the Queendom sold their wares.

“Apples for sale! Last of the harvest! Apples for sale!”

“Don’t miss out on these iron pallets. Solid, native, cheap, the best deal you’ll see today!”

“Looking for work? Got a job for you up north! Good pay, better food, guaranteed to be not gruel at least twice a week!”

Mei passed racks of salted meats, piles of bagged flour, wheels of golden cheese, barrels of red apples, and an assortment of squash so colorful, they rivaled the local trees for autumn splendor. Among these wares, battles of commerce and mettle commenced under damp umbrellas and tent roofs. To Mei’s right, a young red-haired man in shiny breastplate haggled with a older man in a three-pointed oilskin hat while to her left, a woman in a faded green tunic complained to a stone-faced stall owner about the quality of his lumber. Before she was out of earshot, both deals were sealed with handshakes and coin.

In front of her, Huan stayed quiet, pushing through the crowds with nary a glance at the sights and sounds.

Worried, Mei caught up to him. “What were you doing last night…”

Something was wrong. Huan’s eyes were wide, his right hand gripping his sword hilt in a white knuckled grip. Something was scaring him.

Mei looked around. They’d crossed out of the vendor area into The Exchange’s loading zone where burly laborers in stone gray coveralls, some as dark-skinned as Dwayne, hauled crates and pushed dollies to and from the warehouses under the watchful eye of accountants, who made marks on clipboards as each crate passed.

None of this was new to either Mei or Huan. In fact, this market was smaller than the one in their hometown. More full of skirts and fine jackets, but still smaller.

Mei’s eyes slid to the blue scarf around her brother’s neck, the one that used to hide the Tiger Mask. Huan had seen bigger markets, but Tiger hadn’t. Tigers weren’t like white-mittened foxes; they stayed clear of crowds of people.

Mei put the thought away. The mask was gone. Huan had said so. Besides, it had been a long time since they’d been in such a large city.

Mei asked in Tuquese, “Are you okay?”

Huan shuddered and then, as if he’d just remembered she was there, threw a smile her way. “Of course. I’m fine.”

She let him have that. “So, what were you doing last night?”

Huan shrugged. “Just… blowing off steam.”

“Out of the way!”

A massive brown and white monster with two pairs of horns, one slung low along its jaw, the other cresting its head, barreled towards them. Mei leapt out of the way, but Huan stood his ground and growled defiance. The awrock - Maggie had told Mei about them when they’d saw one on the Queen’s Road - didn’t care and stormed forward with a deep moo. Faced with a mountain of uncaring muscle and the heavily laden cart it was pulling, Huan stepped aside before he was flattened, spitting at the cart as it passed. Then he resumed his course without waiting for Mei .

That behavior didn’t support Huan’s statement. “You are not fine,” said Mei, catching up to him.

“Like you care.” Huan didn’t look back. “You’re actually satisfied with being a guard. You don’t have time for me.”

“What are you talking about? I’m here.”

Huan tossed a glare back at her. “Do you want to stay here?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re safe here.”

“Until we’re not.” Huan’s jaw clenched. “Until she decides that we’re not.”

She was Momin, Soura’s resident Tuquese spy, and she had declared that she wasn’t interested in Huan. “Maggie and Dwayne can help-”

“I won’t ask-” Huan’s teeth snapped up the end of his comment. He sucked in a slow breath. “We don’t need their help, and we’re not their damn guards. You’re a hunter, and I’m a… a…”

A thief. After their parents had died, Huan had stolen, lied, and cheated to pay for the fireworks shop that Mei barely knew how to run. She didn’t know what had happened to the shop after they’d left. Maybe their old landlord had rented it out or sold it or replaced it with something less stained with tragedy. Mei didn’t care. She wasn’t and had never been a fireworks maker, but saying that she was a hunter after the dragon and the Yumma underground and the Vanurian jungle felt strange.

“I make a bad guard.” Huan chuckled. “It’s easier for me to figure out how to get things out, not keep them in.”

Mei let the sounds of commerce be his answer and kept walking.

Now they were past the hagglers and the haulers and had entered the cobbled streets of the money counters, where crisp suits carried ledgers into houses that bore names like “The Daughters of Burgess” and “West Anders Company” and handed them to inked fingers who then scribbled in their ledgers. This was also the farthest any noble usually got into the Exchange, their suits and dresses of white, teal, and pink - the season’s favored colors according to Fran - now dotting the thinning crowd.

As Huan picked up speed, Mei matched his pace, finding it easy to keep up after long days trailing prey. “What are you afraid of?” she asked, still in Tuquese.

Huan’s shoulders raised, but he didn’t answer until they’d finally exited The Exchange and were walking up Oben Avenue. “They’re changing you, you know that?” His voice softened. “Every time Dwayne asks you for a favor, every letter that witch teaches you to write, they’re changing you into someone they want you to be, and instead of being out here with me, meeting boys or girls or whatever, living your life, you’re giving in to them.”

Mei frowned. “I don’t want to ‘meet’ anyone.” In Tuquese, the word was a euphemism. “Is that what you were doing last night? Meeting people?”

Huan tilted his head. “What do you mean you don’t want to… Ahem. Yes, I was, sometimes, but we’re talking about you. It’s your life, little sister. Don’t waste it.”

Mei blocked his path. “No, I’m talking about you!” Oben Avenue wasn’t wide like Nieder Street or crowded like The Exchange so her words shook the damp off the red and gold leaves above them.

Huan’s eyes screwed shut. “Keep your voice down.”

“Are you stealing again?”

His eyes snapped open. “So what if I am?”

Mei’s nostrils flared. “Are you stealing from Dwayne? Or Maggie?”

Huan shook his head. “No, I’m not.”

His eyes stayed on hers. He was telling the truth.

Mei stepped back from Huan and got her anger back under control. “Good.” She about-faced and continued down Oben at a quicker pace. They were fine. So long as Huan wasn’t hurting her friends and the Tiger Mask was really gone and Momin was not in town, they were fine.

Her new pace forced Huan to jog to keep up with her but got them to Sanford in the Parvenue Quarter in record time, and, without glancing at the venerable house’s ivy and moss covered facade, Mei stomped up the front stairs and yanked the bell pull.

Huan caught up to her. “Listen, I…” He wiped sweat from his brow. “I just want us to be free, just like before.”

Mei kept her eyes on the front door, which had just been freshly painted iris blue. That had been item sixty-seven out of two hundred and twelve on Dwayne’s list of renovations. He’d probably done it himself. He’d had trouble hiring help here in Bradford.

“Mei, look I-”

“Mei?” The door opened, revealing Dwayne in a new blue and black suit. ”Weren’t you going to meet me at the Tower?”

The door opened wider and brought Rodion into view. The steward took in Huan’s panting and Mei’s stiff stance. “Ah, Mr. Ma, good of you to arrive on time. For once.”

“Let’s move past that.” Dwayne smiled. “Huan, we’re expecting a few shipments today. Make sure they make it to the designated staging area.”

“Which is the west dining room and not the porch,” stated Rodion.

Huan’s face tightened. “Understood.”

“Excellent.”

Someone behind Mei whistled.

Rodion bowed. “My lo-, Dwayne. Your carriage is here.”

“Finally.” Dwayne stepped past Mei and then paused. “Do you want to ride with me?”

Usually, Mei would turn him down as she usually enjoyed her walks from the Bilges to the Indigo Tower even when the weather was gray and muddy, but right now, not only would she be late, but her questions about Huan’s night activities would worry her the whole way.

So, she accepted.