Two bells before lunch, Mei met Charlie in the center of the collection of ugly, three storied, twelve pane windowed colored-brick buildings that made up West Boscage. After a brief exchagne of greetings, the scrytive led her past the pearl while Earthhoist Reference Center, the sky blue Waterimpelers Association, and the blood-red Dyer’s Foundation to the old flowery yellow Cartographic Repository.

Before opening the door, Charlie glanced back at Mei. “You’re wondering why we’re here?”

She nodded. As her reading comprehension hadn’t caught up to her pronunciation, she had no idea what “Cartographic” meant.

Charlie smiled. “Unlike those… enterprising fellows on the other side of the wall, most working mages don’t set up stalls on the side of the street.”

Mei glanced around. Considering how little foot traffic this part of the Bradford got, not setting up where people were seemed foolish. “So people come here to hire them?”

“Not exactly.” The door rang as Charlie opened it. “After you.”

Stepping into the Cartographic Repository meant entering a world of little gray triangles, red dots, lumpy green shapes, squiggly blue lines, black bars, all labeled names like Grandel’s Way and Polsglen. It took Mei a long while to see the mountain ranges, cities, forests, rivers, roads, to see, in whole and in part, the Queendom of Soura.

“Maps,” she stated.

“Of every corner of the Queendom.” Charlie approached the nearest one and tapped a green blob several inches below Bradford. “That’s Bradschwald, the best place in the world for peace and quiet.”

“Far too many trees for my liking.” A creak and a breeze accompanied the entrance of an older woman in a chair equipped with wheels and a pair of tiny sails. “A scrytive and a guard of the Indigo Tower? That’s a surprise.” She cleared her throat. “Well welcome. I am Mrs. Frida Nausbaum, a caretaker here at the Repo. What can I do for you?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Nausbaum.” Charlie dipped into a bow. “I am Senior Scrytive Charles Vogt, and this is Head Guard Mei Ma. We would like some information on a windsong messenger...” He made a show of pulling his notes out of his pocket and checking them. “An Orlaith Jung?”

“Interesting.” Mrs. Nausbaum wheeled closer. “And you came here? Why?”

Because unlike Tiffany, the Chamber had no record of Orlaith Jung’s address. That wasn’t so alarming. As far as Mei could tell, the Chamber only kept track of landowners and residents of the Noble District and Boscage, but Mrs. Nausbaum didn’t need to know that.

Mei shrugged. “Where else would we ask?”

“What my colleague means to say is,” said Charlie, “that we’re aware that if a windsong messenger is looking for work, and lacks the contacts to get one on her own, she comes here.”

“Maybe before those new provies.” Mrs. Nausbaum scoffed. “Now, their sponsors keep them so busy they have no time to find any work of their own.”

“The ones in the Plague District are finding their own work,” stated Mei.

Mrs. Nausbaum shook her head. “There is little work suitable for mages like them. It’s unfortunate, but they lack the disposition to earn a proper license and that limits their options in proper society.”

Mei frowned. Somewhere in there was an insult to the mages of the Plague District, but before she could ask for an explanation, Charlie asked, “How many windsong messengers have proper licenses at the moment?”

“Around a couple hundred, I think.” Mrs. Nausbaum sighed. “Nowadays, they don’t do proper work. They mostly sponsor provies and lounge around in fancy flats, getting lazy and soft.” Her lips curled. “They might as well be nobles or a Magisterium scholars.”

That was casting a broad net. Judging by Dwayne and Magdala, Magisterium scholars were hardly lazy and were incredibly hard-headed, but Mei decided to follow Charlie’s lead and keep their focus on their investigation. “Orlaith Jung tried to work with Vanurians.”

Mrs. Nausbaum rolled her eyes. “He would. After pissing off his sponsor and trashing any hope of getting a real license, he would work with heretics.” She shot a look at Charlie. “What do you want him for? The boy has the common sense of a bottom burp, but he’s no criminal.”

“Oh.” Charlie looked up from his notebook. “We just wanted to ask him a couple of questions. Do you think he’ll be by soon?”

“Oh, he’ll be by. Lately, he’s taken to asking if the Repo will hire him, but the boy’s hands are as steady as grass in the wind, and his body could fit between two pieces of paper. Good cartographers need the former, good scouts the latter.”

Which sounded like the average Magisterium mage, but Mei kept her mouth shut.

“Then we’ll wait as long as we’re able. In the meantime,” Charlie stepped over to a desk that was covered in pens and paper. “What’s the first step in map-making?”

Taking that as her cue to step away, Mei went to take a closer look at the maps, which had a level of detail that would get them censored in the Empire. However, she didn’t absorb any of the information because her nightly efforts to track down either Blue Mask or Sioned had failed, which made Orlaith Jung was their last lead. Without him, there was only one course of action left.

Mrs. Nausbaum laughed. “Yes, only a fool would try to complete an aerial survey at this time of year. Clear days are a requirement for good map-making.”

“That must make the North impossible to map,” said Charlie.

“Only in fall. And winter. And most of spring. Oh, and the coolest days in the summer.”

This was no time to dwell on failures. Forcing her whole attention onto the maps, Mei walked around the room. Aside from mountains, rivers, and cities, the maps also detailed landing areas, cross winds, and something called calorials. Bradford’s map didn’t even stop there. It included the names of the districts and quarters, the streets and avenues, even the estates and who owned them. Apparently, Sanford was jointly owned by both Lord Kalan and Lady Gallus, Tarpan by Lord Gerald Gallus, and an Andreas Ziegler owned the Bilges warehouse that Mei used to live in, but the surprising thing was that there was an estate right on the edge of the Gentle District that was owned by a Chin Ching, a name that, when Mei muttered it under her breath, sounded almost like the name of the Emperor.

Maybe that was a coincidence.

The door’s bell rang.

“Mrs. Nausbaum,” a tall, rangy windsong in plain brown leathers ducked into the Repository, “about that job…” He spotted Charlie, saw the black scrytive jacket and silver badge. “Oh, it looks like you’re busy. I’ll come back later.”

Even before Charlie’s eyes asked her to, Mei slid between the windsong and the door.

“No matter, Mr. Jung.” Mrs. Nausbaum gestured to Charlie. “They’re here to speak to you.”

“Oh,” Orlaith backed up, “I see.”

He spun to face the door, the first syllables of a spell already on his lips, but Mei tacked him to the ground and covered his mouth with her hand.

“Orlaith Jung?” She pinned the windsong’s arms to the floor with her knees. “We have some questions.”

Mrs. Nausbaum whistled. “Cups, she’s fast.”

“She is.” Charlie closed the door. “You have him, Mei?” When she nodded, he knelt down next to them and said, “Okay, then, Mr. Jung. I’m Senior Scrytive Vogt from the Chamber. This,” he placed a hand on Mei’s shoulder, “is Head Guard Ma of the Indigo Tower. Nod, if you understand.”

Orlaith nodded.

“Very good.” Charlie stood up. “Now, are you going to try and escape again, Mr. Jung?”

Orlaith shook his head.

Charlie glanced at Mrs. Nausbaum. “What do you think?”

The mapmaker glared at Orlaith. “If you break anything, young man, I will have my husband hunt you down and take the damages out of your hide.”

As Orlaith paled, Mei finished her assessment of him. Mrs. Nausbaum’s description had been accurate; the pale dark-haired boy had the kind of delicate bone structure that Mei associated with long-legged wading birds. Considering how easily she’d pinned him down, he weighed about the same as one.

Charlie patted her shoulder. “Let him up, Mei.”

Mei did so but kept herself between the windsong and the door.

“I thought mages protected mages,” muttered Orlaith as he got to his feet.

“We do,” said Mrs. Nausbaum, “but not against the Chamber and the Indigo Tower. That’s a lot of Royal power coming after you, child.”

Deflated, Orlaith turned to Charlie. “I don’t know anything.”

A pointless lie. “What do you know about Juanelo Rincón Ybarra?” Mei asked.

Orlaith flinched. Then he muttered something under his breath.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jung.” Charlie stepped closer, “we couldn’t hear that.”

“He was nice to me.”Orlaith’s voice was gravelly. “He never got my name wrong after I… I… got some adjustments done.”

Mrs. Nausbaum’s eyes narrowed. “What adjustments?”

Orlaith quailed. “I just needed to be… needed to-”

“Reject what Cueller gave you, what your parents gave you?”

“No, I mean, yes, but it’s not like-”

“It is like that, you-”

“Mrs. Nausbaum,” Charlie turned to the mapmaker, “you mentioned that you had yet to complete this month’s meteorological projections?”

“I did.” Mrs. Nausbaum raised her chin. “And I’ll be getting back to it. I trust you’ll handle this.” She gestured at Orlaith.

Charlie’s look was unreadable. “I’m sure we will.”

When the mapmaker was gone, Orlaith sniffed. “There goes any chance I’ll get that job.”

“Trust me.” Charlie gestured to a chair. “You were never going to get it.”

Mei waited for Orlaith to sit, she didn’t care about whatever thing he’d had done to himself, before saying, “You said ‘was.’ You know he’s dead.”

Orlaith curled in on himself. “Yes.”

“How?”

“Because he went missing after he met… them.”

“Mr. Jung.” Charlie’s placed a hand on Mei’s shoulder to forestall her. “Please forgive my colleague. Her home was recently robbed-” Orlaith squeaked “-by persons you may be familiar with. What do you know about a trio of robbers wearing masks?”

The windsong’s eyes dropped to his knees. “Don’t most robbers wear masks?”

“Do most robbers wield stilettos?” Charlie’s voice was cold. “Do they cast lethal wind Qe magic?”

Orlaith’s eyes tried to find the door.

Instead they found Mei. “Answer the question.”.

“No, they don’t.” Orlaith’s eyes dropped back to his knees. “Who got hurt?”

“My friend.”

“I’m sorry.”

Instead of yelling about how much blood Dwayne had left in that ally, Mei managed a soft “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry because… I told them Juan’s route through the Noble District.”

Up until that moment, Mei had not discarded the possibility that Juanelo’s murder had been pure opportunity, one that had everything to do with his sponsor and nothing to do with the messages he carried. But they’d asked about him. That made this murder, this series of robberies, into a conspiracy, one that her brother might be a part of.

“What did you tell them?” asked Charlie.

“I told him his usual route, what times he comes and goes.” Orlaith’s voice shook. “You have to understand I had to get out of there. She kept wanting me to be more: the distraction, the look-out, the bagman. It was all just too much so I told her about Juan.”

“Who is she?”

“I don’t know. She wears a mask like the others. I only know she’s a she because she got so offended when I said...” Orlaith rubbed his cheek. “She speaks with a strange rasp though, like she messed up a throat cleanse potion or something. I wouldn’t recognize her real voice.”

Masks, black clothing, voice changing potions, it all sounded ridiculous, even to Mei who’d seen them with her own eyes. “Who are the others?”

“I don’t know. They wore masks so-”

“Describe them.”

Orlaith flinched at her tone, but said, “There’s five of them. Gold is a wind Qe mage like me. Well, I mean she’s like me if I were blessed by the wind. Clay is some sort of street urchin, I think, and Ash is a trained fighter. He’s Granite’s favorite. Granite is the leader, the one with the weird voice? She brought in Sky right a month before, before…”

“Sky’s mask is blue?” Mei’s question sounded like it came from very far off.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Orlaith nodded. “He’s the reason they knew about Juan.”

“Ah.” It could be just coincidence. It had to be just coincidence. When she caught Blue Mask, she’d find out that it was coincidence.

Charlie asked Orlaith, “Do you have any idea who Granite is?”

Orlaith shook his head.

“Do the others know who she is?”

“Clay doesn’t. Sky might. Gold and Ash… maybe? They know each other, and Granite always puts one of them in charge when she wasn’t around.” He shivered. “They’d kill me if they knew I spoke to you.”

“Which is why you’ll have the Chamber’s protection.” Charlie tapped his badge of office. “We’ll make sure they don’t lay a hand on you.”

Orlaith’s eyes met Charlie’s. “Really?”

“Really.” The scrytive smiled. “We just need to know everything you know about this Granite.”

“I… don’t know much else.” Orlaith clasped his hands. “No, that’s not true. I think she’s from the North, she prays like one, and I think she’s a mage. I haven’t seen her cast, but when certain mages look at you, it feels like they’re stripping you down to your component parts, seeing what you’re made of.”

Mei found herself nodding. It was a pretty good description of how Dwayne looked at magical animals and plants.

“The others?” asked Charlie.

“Ash talks like a soldier but don’t tell him that, he hates it. Gold sounds prissy? Like she’s used to people doing what she wants. Clay’s local and Sky is…strange.”

Ash sounded a lot like Kay, and Clay sounded familiar. “What does Clay look like?”.

“She’s tall-”

“How tall? Stand up. Show me.”

Orlaith stood up and placed his hand right at his temple. “About here?”

Taller than Mei, almost as tall as Dwayne, and exactly as tall as a certain roofrunner. “Hair? Eyes?”

“I have no idea. We always met at night in this old house on the other side of the river.”

“You said that Sky is strange,” said Charlie. “How so?”

Orlaith’s face screwed up in thought. “He sounds Bilges, but off? It’s hard to describe.”

“Like maybe he just learned the accent?”

“Maybe? You can learn accents?”

Huan had learned dozens.

“Thank you, Mr. Jung.” Charlie gestured to the door. “Now, if you’ll just give me the address of the house…”

Mei left the building, went to the curb, and did not scream. Orlaith Jung, their last lead, was leading them straight to her brother. There had to be something that would absolve Huan, something that Sioned or Kay would know.

The door opened and Charlie and Orlaith stepped out.

“I recommend you go to the Chamber now,” said Charlie.

“I just need to get some things first.”

Charlie’s face went blank. “It’s your call.”

Orlaith nodded and then rocketed into the air.

When the windsong was but a speck in the sky, Charlie asked “So what happened a month ago?”

Mei didn’t answer.

“I’m guessing that you think that that roofrunner you spoke to last week is involved, but when he mentioned this ‘Sky’ you went all stiff.”

Mei looked away.

Charlie sighed. “Mei, I know that you’re doing your best not to let yourself come to the obvious conclusion. But I do know that a month ago a certain Wesen mage and his two Tuquese guards were brought to the Palace for an audience with Her Majesty.”

Of course, he knew.

“You’re not ready to say so I won’t because if I do, I’ll have to act.”

Because Senior Scrytive Charles Vogt would have to act. Mei blinked away tears. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Literally.” Charlie put his hands in his pockets. “We are in agreement that Juanelo was targeted, right?”

“Yes.” Mei wiped her face. “This is about either Lord Kalan or Dwayne.”

“Considering what happened, I’m betting it’s Lord Kalan. We already know that Juanelo was handing messages over to his sponsor. Maybe his sponsor did something and tipped off this ‘Granite’ about Lord Kalan’s abdication.”

Mei shook her head. “Dwayne didn’t know about it. Juanelo had to have been carrying the message when they killed him.”

“Then what was ‘Granite’ trying to do?”

Mei’s heart sank. “Shaggy deer.”

Charlie crossed his arms. “I don’t follow.”

“Shaggy deer are too smart to fall in traps and too fast to chase down and catch, but if you make a very loud noise near them,” like a gunshot, “they freeze.”

“In other words, ‘Granite’ was trying to keep Dwayne from doing anything about the abdication.” Charlie grimaced. “Even worse, without Juanelo, Lord Kalan has no idea what’s happening here in Bradford.” He turned to Mei. “Could Granite be Juanelo’s sponsor?”

Mei gave him a look.

“Right, stupid question.” Charlie took out his notes. “Let’s assume that at least two people knew about Lord Kalan’s abdication before the Autumn Session. They would have had an opportunity to do something before then. I’ll look into that after I check out the address Mr. Jung gave me.”

“You do that.” Mei turned east. “I’ll find Sioned.”

***

When he’d rushed to finish his lunch, Dwayne had hoped that would enable him to reach the College of Martial Magic with enough time to make it back for classes, but when he reached wooded the eastern campus and faced three paths leading deeper in, he knew he was doomed. Not a single one was marked, and since no one had bothered to ever make a map of the Magisterium campus, he hadn’t the slightest clue which one he should try.

“Lost?”

“Yes.” Dwayne turned around and to face Francesca Lucchesi and her bright yellow school pantaloons. “Do you know where the College of Martial Magic is?”

Lucchesi stared at him for a long moment. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Nevermind.” The wind Qe mage pointed at the leftmost path. “It’s that way.”

“Thanks.”

Dwayne followed her directions. When she followed, he frowned. “I can follow a path.”

“Can you?” Lucchesi adjusted the heavy pack on her shoulders. “Mag says you once got lost going in a straight line.”

“That only happened because I was distracted.”

Lucchesi waggled her eyebrows. “By her?”

“Yes, by-” Dwayne’s brain caught up to what he was saying. “We… were discussing new spells we could try out.”

“Sure, that’s what distracted you.”

Dwayne’s eyes narrowed. “Is this some sort of punishment for something?”

“Not at all.” Lucchesi’s eyes glittered. “It’s just so rare that I’m in this position. I have to enjoy it.”

“And why are you following me?” Dwayne wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she was talking about. “Aren’t all your afternoon classes on the west end of campus?”

Lucchesi cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t know north from south, but you know that?”

“I…uh… may have gotten lost the first few days I was here.”

Lucchesi grinned. “Oh, you are honest to a fault. And don’t worry about me. I’ve been excused from classes until after the Harvest Ball.”

Dwayne blinked. “You have? How?”

Despite all his responsibilities, his professors, Corn especially, had taken a delight in increasing his workload.

“I asked nicely.” Lucchesi raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you haven’t come out here sooner.”

Dwayne’s response came through clenched teeth. “I’ve been busy.”

“Ah.”

They didn’t speak for the next few paces as Dwayne wrestled with his irritation at how easy things were for Lucchesi. She could stay in the Academy dormitory and not have to commute all the way from Bradford. She could just cast Qe magic exactly as she was taught and not have to contrive convoluted solutions to each practical. She could just ask to take a few days off class and not worry about how a bunch of mages she’d never met would think about it. Probably, she didn’t even know how easy she and Magdala and all the other Sourans had it.

And none of that was her fault. Dwayne knew that Francesca worked hard. She took her Earth Qe classes seriously, never leveraged her obvious privilege to get other students do her work for her, and she was the only student in class who ever talked to Dwayne, putting her in the rare company of Chloe and Torben.

He wasn’t going to apologize for his terse response. He could only help his actions not his feelings. “I met your aunt the other day.”

Lucchesi groaned. “She told me. She’s so sorry about the examination.”

Dwayne blinked. “She’s sorry?”

“Yes, she is.” Lucchesi kicked a stone off the path. “She said that, between Dean Bruce’s bullying and your ally Baron Thadden’s strange attitude towards you, the whole thing was a travesty.”

And the Wind Sage had asked, “You think that Baron Thadden is on your side?”

Dwayne cleared his throat. “Well, I passed, so I’m taking the Rite tonight. Any advice?”

“Advice?” Lucchesi tilted her head. “No, no advice. Either you’ll hear Cueller’s Voice or you won’t. It’s as simple as that.”

Dwayne’s throat went dry. He’d read nothing about Cueller’s Voice.

Lucchesi saw his worry. “You’ll pass. Everyone already knows you can cast Qe magic. You might go about it… creatively, but a cast spell is a cast spell. Here we are.”

They’d exited the woods and entered the shadow of an stony edifice draped in arches, crenellations, and the weight of hundreds of years.

“Thanks.” Dwayne offered Lucchesi a bow. “I wouldn’t have made it here without you.”

“Oh, we’re not done yet.” She opened the door to the College of Martial Magic. “I am not going to miss this.”

Any questions Dwayne had were swallowed up by the cacophony bursting out from within the College, which was everything he dreamed the Tower could be. He was used to working in tents, in courtyards with a random assortment of chairs and tables, in dark basements next to any number of strange and mysterious magical artifacts, but the College had real laboratory equipment: vials and flasks, racks and counters, scales and burners. If he hadn’t been in a hurry, he would have whipped out his notebook and taken notes on how everything was arranged, how they’d managed to cram so many experiments in one place.

Two things tempered his enthusiasm as Lucchesi led him through the space: the dubious stares of the researchers and the ominous presence of the experiment against the back wall. It wasn’t the high glass partition or the full body suits that made the latter ominous. It was the reason for those things, the pale yellow powders that sat in reinforced flasks all along the back wall.

“What is he doing here?”

Dwayne’s attention snapped to the work counter that Lucchesi had led him to, where a slight brown-haired boy in an nQe mage’s pinafore glared at him from a stool.

His manners overrode his annoyance, Dwayne bowed. “My name is Dwayne Kal-”

“I know who you are.” The boy crossed his arms. “What are you doing here?”

Standing straight up, Dwayne placed a smile on his face, although he couldn’t keep from showing teeth. “I’m here to see how Magdala is doing.”

“Yeah, and-”

“Colin, where are your manners?” Lucchesi sighed. “This is Colin Fletcher from West Soura.”

Dwayne blinked. “Is Nicole Fletcher your sister?”

“Yeah,” Fletcher raised his chin, “she is.”

“Then I have to thank you for your help in our investigations of the recent murder and robberies.” Dwayne bowed again. “Without you and your sister’s help, I believe we’d still be stumbling in the dark.”

“Uh, you’re welcome?” Fletcher’s hostility cracked under Dwayne carefully polite assault. “Don’t mention it.”

“Dwayne!” Magdala arrived with a rack of tiny azade spheres under her arm. “W-what are you doing here?”

“I, uh, wanted to see how the project was going.” Like Fletcher, Magdala was wearing the nQe pinafore only hers fit. “And how is it going? And why is Lucchesi here?”

By Markosia, he’d said that last part out loud.

“Didn’t Mei tell you?” Magdala put the rack down onto the counter. “She’s helping me with this project. Him, too.” She gestured at Fletcher.

“Right.” Out of the corner of his eye, Dwayne could see Lucchesi trying very hard not to laugh. “That makes sense. And I’m here to help.”

“Oh.” Magdala pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “Um… right. We’ve actually made a little progress since I sent that report. Fletcher, do you think these will be enough?”

Fletcher looked over the small azade spheres Magdala had carried in. “Barely.”

“We might pull it off today.” Lucchesi picked one up. “Then we’d have extra.”

“Or we’ll break them even faster than we did this morning.”

Magdala caught Dwayne’s expression and winced. “This is progress. Before I kind of got in the way of everybody, but now we’ve actually made some discoveries.”

“Mainly new ways of disintegrating or exploding azade,” said Fletcher.

“Oh,” Dwayne smirked. “Someone even less optimistic than you.”

Magdala’s face turned pink. “Well, I earned that.”

“Quite.” Lucchesi took them by the elbows. “You know what? Mag needs a break, she’s been here since early morning, so Colin and I will set up the next few experiments while you two go and talk theory.”

“What?” squawked Fletcher.

“Wait!” said Magdala.

Dwayne tried to protest. “If you’re busy, I can-”

“Nope. Out.”

And Dwayne and Magdala were shoved out of a side door and out of the building and the door shut behind them. When she shut the door behind them, she left them alone in a clearing whose grass A old stone bench, just the right size for two, faced them on the other side of the clearing.

Magdala gaped at the closed door. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

Dwayne did. The grassy clearing they were was covered in honey yellow and sunset orange leaves that had fallen from the trees above and had an old stone bench, just the right size for two, in the sun-dappled shade. It wasn’t as intimate as the Tower basement, but it was close.

“Yeah, I don’t know either,” he said. “Should we sit?”

“Oh, sure.”

When they were seated, exactly one careful hand span apart, Magdala cleared her throat. “You wanted to know how the project was doing?”

Good, something safe. “Yes.” Dwayne glanced at the door. “Weren’t you and Lucchesi arguing?”

Magdala looked down. “You knew about that?”

“It was the only reason I could think of that she’d come around to Sanford without you.”

“Right.” Magdala sighed. “We were fighting because I was being stupid. I thought that I needed to finished this project alone, that she and Fletcher were just catalysts making it all happen faster, but it turns out we need at least three people to pull this off.”

Not surprising, but there was no reason to say so aloud. “It’s good you figured it out in time.”

“And how are you?” When Dwayne stared blankly at her, Magdala glared back. “You got attacked. Mei said that you got dragged away to the Plague District.”

“Oh. That. I’m fine.”

Magdala’s eyes dropped to his chest. “Are you?”

“Really, I am. Look.” Dwayne undid a button to show her. “It’s all healed up.”

She reached out to touch the scar. “What was it?”

“Some sort of wind spell. I assume Mei’s told you the rest?”

Her eyes didn’t leave his scar. “This looks deep. How are you not in bed?”

Dwayne chuckled. “It’s not like it was a sword wound.”

Magdala’s eyes met his. “It looks exactly like it was a sword wound, one that soldiers spend days recovering from.”

Her hand was still on his chest, bridging that careful distance between them, and with their eyes on each other… Dwayne coughed and pulled away, his hand already closing up his shirt. “Maybe I’m a quick healer.”

“Yes.” Magdala had snatched her hand back, her voice shrill. “Maybe. Would you like to hear about the new methodology?”

“Yes, I would,” declared Dwayne as if nothing had been about to happen.

After she described their attempts to apply Xa ritual techniques to create Qe magical cores, Magdala said, “Fletcher and I are still trying to figure out a way to keep the spheres stable.”

“Hence the explosions and disintegrations.” Dwayne frowned. “Disintegrations isn’t really your style.”

“That’s Colin, not me.” Magdala rolled her eyes. “I ended up blowing up an experiment. They said I set a record.”

Dwayne grinned. “You are very good at explosions.”

“Oh, shush.” Magdala punched him in the arm then leaned back on the bench. “Colin told me about the new spell vials.”

“Really?” Dwayne leaned back too. “What’d he think?”

“I think he hates how much he likes them, and he kept asking about how…” She winced. “Well, you know.”

How he’d made them. “Yeah.”

The rustling of leaves filled the silence between them, and reminded Dwayne of how the two of them used to sit together after dinner on the trail to Walton and talk about magic and history. They hadn’t had time to do that since.

“We’re Offering the project at the Ball.”

Dwayne blinked. “What? That’s not possible.”

“Dean Bruce pulled some strings.” Magdala’s eyes were on the building so she couldn’t see Dwayne’s stricken expression. “I was going to refuse, but Francesca has to impress her mom, Colin has to impress Dean Bruce, and I… I have to impress everyone so they forget about my suspension.” She looked at Dwayne and shrugged. “Dean Laurence said that’s what it would take.”

“That all makes sense for you, but why would Dean Bruce take this kind of risk? You’re new to her college and you’re not even a graduate.”

Magdala laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“That’s what Mother said.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” Magdala sat up. “I know something is going on, something bigger than this, but we can pull this off. We have to pull this off.”

“Yeah.” Dwayne let it go. Besides, he didn’t have time to figure out Dean Bruce’s intentions when he had Thadden and the robbers’ mysterious backer to worry about. “Anything I can do to help?”

Magdala looked at him. “Aren’t you really busy?”

“Not right now.” Which wasn’t true, but Dwayne would not leave this bench any sooner than he had to. “You said that the azade either explodes or disintegrates, which are your and Fletcher’s specialties respectively.”

“Right, we’ve been having trouble balancing between the two of us.”

“What if that’s wrong?” Dwayne mused aloud. “What if azade is like a musical instrument, like a kithar that the three of you are strumming? Wouldn’t you want the note that Lucchesi is strumming to win out?”

The edges of Magdala’s lips quirked upwards. “You and Mei could have a metaphor face-off. And I don’t think that a kithar fits. It’s capable of multiple notes and the azade only…” She went quiet. “Oh. Oh!” She jumped to her feet. “I know what we need to do.”

“What?”

“I need to try it out first.” She paused before leaving. “Did you want anything else?”

“Will you go to the Ball with me?” were the words Dwayne strangled before they left his lips. Instead, he asked, “What are you doing after the Offering?”

“Hanging out with Francesca and Mei.” She clasped her hands. “Um, what about you?”

“Thadden has something planned for me and then Her Majesty will summon me after the Ball.”

“Oh, right.” Magdala dithered for a moment. “Um, well, I should get back to work.”

“Wait!”

She turned back. “Yes?”

Dwayne’s mind went blank. “Uh… I need a way to send a message to Walton.”

Magdala frowned. “Just do it via windsong.”

“I can’t. They’ll get intercepted.”

“Oh.” Magdala’s confusion cleared. “Oh, is this about the murder?”

“Partially.”

“Okay.” Magdala thought about it. “I’ll ask Francesca if she can have a caravan take it. It’ll take a while, but they have a lot of rules about not reading messages on pain of death.”

And caravans employed lay people, none of whom could be suborned by Juanelo’s sponsor. “That should work.”

Dwayne stood up, tried to find something else to say, failed. “I’ll see you at the Ball then.”

“Um… would you…”

“Yes?”

Magdala turned away, her ears pink. “Nothing. I’ll see you at the Ball.”