The next day, Mei woke up and groaned at the white and purple striped mess she lay on. She’d been too tired to put the awful dress away. Pushing it out of her face, Mei rolled over and checked the thin wooden slats above her.
They were flat.
Faeflies dancing in her belly, Mei leapt out of bed, hoisted herself up, and checked Huan’s bunk. It was empty and unmade, just like he’d left it the day before. Wherever he’d gone after slipping away from dinner last night, he hadn’t returned here.
Her eyebrows knitted, Mei dropped back down and surveyed the rest of the room. Her brother’s uniform was in its usual pile in the corner, but, while his tunic and trousers and scarf were missing, the sword he’d stolen from Yumma wasn’t, and his usually locked wooden box was open. Mei peeked inside and found nothing but plain wood.
She frowned.
She was missing something.
Huan had been wearing his uniform before changing into the red suit for dinner, and he’d been empty-handed for the carriage ride, but his usual clothes - his scarf and trousers and tunic - were gone. There was a chance he’d sent them to get cleaned, but that didn’t sound likely.
Suddenly exhausted, Mei rubbed sleep out of her eyes, and her fingers came away purple. Right. The makeup. She’d also forgotten to remove it before bed. While she could wait until she got to the Tower, Mei wanted it - and the night it represented - gone, and so she slipped on her boots, grabbed her towel, and left the room.
As she padded through the dust and mud of the empty corridor, Mei passed door after snoring door. She didn’t envy the night-shift workers. Yes, last night’s dinner had been equal parts boring and frustrating, but at least she hadn’t spent the night slinging heavy boxes around. Making sure to only step on the quiet floorboards, Mei reached a graying wooden door at the end of the hallway. Opening it, she slipped into the shared bathroom and walked up to its cracked mirror.
Last night’s glorious Lady was gone, leaving mere Mei and her smeared purple makeup, which Huan had given no instructions on how to remove. She shrugged. Hard scrubbing and persistence would work. Then she’d go on with her day: meeting Maggie and Fran for lunch as usual then guarding the tower.
Picking up a wooden bucket off a stool next to the sink, Mei pushed it under a rusty black iron pump. After wrapping the pump’s handle with her towel, she pushed down on it with all her might. With a muffled shriek and a shudder, the handle came down. No water came out. This was why Mei had considered going to the Tower to clean up. Not only was the pump as loud as a dying bird, it took a lot of effort to get working.
She pulled the handle up.
She pushed the handle down.
Nothing.
Mei pinched her lips together as the frustration of the moment reminded her of the frustration she’d felt last night. After trading away Fran’s dress and forcing Mei to wear makeup, Huan had left her behind at dinner without even a word of warning.
She pulled the handle up.
She pushed the handle down.
Nothing.
He could have left forever.
As soon as she thought that thought, Mei pushed it back into oblivion. Huan needed her, and the only place he could go now was Vanuria, a place he knew nothing about. He wouldn’t go alone. He wouldn’t.
Mei pulled the pump handle up as far up as it would go and, with all of her weight and strength, pushed it down. Finally, a gout of clear cold water splashed into the bucket. A couple more pumps filled it, and then Mei removed the towel from the pump and dropped it in to soak.
At least there’d been more food for her, and Charlie Vogt, whose job chasing thieves across the city sounded far more tiring than being a guard, had been interesting to talk to. After pulling the bucket back to the mirror, Mei used the wet towel to wipe her face. The makeup was oily and hard to remove, but, as she’d thought, hard scrubbing and persistence won in the end and soon her face was clean, raw, and hers. Last night, she’d been unarmed, trapped in someone else’s house, and alone at the table, all of which had outweighed the delicious food and the interesting company. Before she’d left Tarpan, Mei had made it clear to Maggie that next time she wouldn’t eat alone.
After rinsing out her towel and emptying the bucket, Mei returned to the room and dressed for the day. Now was well past the morning shift change, and the tenement was quiet with only the snores of the night shift to break the silence. It would stay that way until the evening shift change. Unfortunately, Mei’s day was just beginning, so she put on her uniform and strapped her dagger to her hip. Before she left, she glanced at the pile of stripes lying on her bed.
It wasn’t the dress’s fault that Huan had gotten it in exchange for the dress she’d actually liked. It wasn’t the dress’s fault that he’d left her at dinner. It wasn’t the dress’s fault that he wasn’t here to explain himself. In fact, because of the dress, Mei had become the alluring Lady for the night, and she was grateful for the experience. With a sigh, Mei packed the dress and its associated parts carefully in their crate, which she left in her corner of the room before she left.
When she reached the street, Mei’s stomach started to grumble. She picked up her pace. On the weekends, Dwayne took up cooking duties just like he had when they’d been on the road, and, while he never cooked too little, he had left last night’s dinner just after the salad and was probably starving. He might eat everything before Mei got to the Tower. However, there was always the chance that the mage apprentice was too tired to cook, and Rodion had cooked instead. She definitely didn’t want to miss out on that. The steward always found some new interesting ingredient to spark her palate, and, with an interesting breakfast, a hunter could stand guard all day staring at trees without a thought about what her brother was doing at that moment.
***
While standing in the Gallus stable-yard at The Exchange, Dwayne missed three things: his old boots, his leather chestpiece, and being unconcerned with whatever had just landed on his shoes. He was wearing the pink suit, which Rodion had assured him he looked good in, and stood out amongst the rough faced stable-hands and blacksmiths.
One of them, a brawny groom in short sleeves despite the chill, approached. “You, uh, need something?” She gestured to the yard.
Dwayne shook his head. “No, I’m meeting Lady Gallus.”
The groom’s eyes widened. “Is…is she looking to replace her mare? Endeavor’ll be a hard one to follow.”
“I don’t think it’s about that.” Dwayne had woken up early this morning to find a written note summoning him to an inspection of the Gallus stable-yards, and, after some frantic research and a hasty order to have Rodion send breakfast to the Tower, he’d arrived just moments ago to find that he’d beaten Lady Gallus here. “I have no idea why I’m here. Horses are not exactly my area of expertise.”
“Ah, yes.” The groom nodded sagely. “Nobs have obscure perfected.”
Instead of frowning, Dwayne nodded. Something was off. Oh, she didn’t think he was a noble.
“So, this is Lord Kalan’s famous apprentice?” A pale-haired man in a gray suit strode up to Dwayne and dipped into a bow. “Andreas Ziegler,” he rose with a smirk, “I’m Baron Thadden’s right hand at the Royal Secretary’s Office.”
“Lord?” The groom’s eyes dropped to Dwayne’s suit and widened. “Milord! I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
So much for that. Dwayne bowed. “No, the fault is mine. I am Dwayne Kalan, heir to Sanford.” Among other things.
The groom slid back from him. “No, milord, I should go.”
Ziegler watched the groom flee. “The Baron mentioned you when he got in last night. Said that you have some fascinating theories on magic.”
“I’m glad he mentioned me to you.” Dwayne erected a pleasant, if bland, facial expression onto his face. “Are you a mage as well?”
“Oh, no,” Ziegler scoffed, “I’m just an admirer of the form. I must say the Baron’s praise puts you in rare company. One of your like,” his eyes dropped to Dwayne’s empty ring finger, “should be honored.”
Dwayne’s mouth went dry. “My like? What do you mean?”
Ziegler gave him a look. “Surely you know. That…” he lowered his voice, “little tantrum of yours last night is exactly what people expect of your… like.”
“Oh,” Dwayne bared his teeth, only barely making it a smile, “you mean mages?”
Ziegler’s face went blank. “No, I meant Wesen.”
“I see.” Dwayne’s fists clenched behind his back, but his toothy smile remained. “My mistake.”
“You must understand. Your behavior matters reflects on your master, who, after holding the Royal Sorcerer for years and doing nothing with it-”
“Sent me to rectify the situation.” Dwayne rose to his full height. “I’m currently auditing the Office’s past work, and-”
“Surely,” Ziegler sneered, “it would be far more productive to focus on the present and not the past? Like on last night’s murdered mage perhaps?”
Dwayne’s smile died. “Murder? What murder?”
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Ziegler’s sneer became a grin. “Sloppy, very sloppy. And a failure to rise to our expectations.”
“Of a Wesen?” Horror fought with offense inside Dwayne. “Of my like?”
Ziegler looked hurt. “No, of an heir!”
“Thank you, Dwayne,” Magdala’s mother stepped between him and Ziegler, “for arriving on time.”
“Lady Gallus.” Ziegler bowed deeply. “My name is Andreas Ziegler, and I’m here to acquire one of your fine mounts.”
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“Oh?” Lady Gallus kept her hand on Dwayne’s shoulder. “Are you sure? These stables produce the finest chargers and draughts in the Queendom. Are you planning to go to war or to farm?”
“Neither, I-”
“Then you’ll have little use for a Gallus ‘mount’ then.” Lady Gallus, shorter than both Dwayne and Ziegler, now towered over both of them. “I recommend that you go elsewhere for your needs, Mr. Ziegler.”
Ziegler’s eyes goggled. “I’m an employee of Her Highness’s office!”
“Her Highness, as her mother’s Royal Secretary, hardly needs to charge hordes or till fields.” Lady Gallus knitted her eyebrows. “If I recall correctly, your Baron Thadden left early last night, saying he had a lot of work to do, and yet here you are, an employee of that same office, wasting time.”
“I… I…” Ziegler coughed. “Another time then, Lady Gallus.” He bowed and fled.
Dwayne found a smile, a real one, on his face, but when he remembered why he was here, it faded. “Milady, I-”
“‘Lady Aunt’.” Lady Gallus turned to him. “You are my brother’s heir. That makes us family.”
“I…” Dwayne’s brain reeled at the idea. “Lady Aunt… I...”
Lady Gallus pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just use ‘Gallus’.” She gestured to the yard. “Let’s do a circuit.”
After a squeak of acknowledgment, Dwayne followed Magdala’s mother, his aunt, around the stable-yard, past the smiths hammering iron into horseshoes, the grooms exercising nervous horses, and the stable hands sweeping dung off the cobbles. When they’d finished a complete circuit, Lady Gallus whistled for two chairs and a table to be placed near the entrance and directed Dwayne to sit. She then placed herself on the edge of her chair, her back as rigid as a cliff.
When Dwayne had settled in, Lady Gallus put her clasped hands on the table. “Dwayne.”
Dwayne huddled in his seat and braced for a storm.
“I apologize.”
***
Exiting the Bilges, Mei turned north on Nieder and weaved through the river of carts, carriages, and merchants rushing south to The Exchange, getting a prinwir before she ran into a crowd of gawking Sourans. She slowed. There couldn’t be a street performance, not here on Nieder street, and she couldn’t hear any music anyhow, so it was curious that a crowd had formed.
It didn’t matter. She was already late. She started to push through the crowd.
“Clearly murdered.”
Mei stopped, the cool autumn air now cold.
“How awful!” exclaimed someone.
Huan hadn’t returned last night, but he was safe, right?
“Too bad, he’s so pretty.”
Not how she’d describe her brother. Maybe it wasn’t him.
“Looks like he was stabbed.”
Mei pushed past the crowd, a few polite nudges and a flourish of her dagger getting her through, and reached the place where two silver-buttoned, black suited people in wide brimmed hats loomed over a body in a sky blue leather uniform. It wasn’t Huan. It was a windsong messenger lying flat on the cobbles, his clouded hazel eyes open to the gray sky, his short curly black hair matted with blood, an empty brown canvas bag with a yellow crested quail in flight stenciled on its side resting next to him.
Mei let out a breath of relief even as her eyes took in more details. The windsong was a boy barely older than her brother, the fuzz on his face was still downy, but that was where the similarities stopped. The windsong’s brown skin, darker than Francesca’s dusky and lighter than Dwayne’s deep brown, and a couple handspans of height over Huan made Mei guess that the messenger likely had southern, maybe even Vanurian, blood.
“Mei?”
A familiar voice pulled her attention up and away from the body to the cheery smile of Charlie Vogt, scrytive and dinner conversationalist.
He tipped his hat. “I have to say, I was not expecting to run into you so soon.”
Mei pointed north. “I was heading to work.”
“Work?” Charlie’s eyes flicked in the direction she pointed. He slapped his knee. “Right, the Tower. I bet your boss is working you hard, what with the Season’s Session tomorrow and the Ball coming soon after. This time is always rough for we who answer to the Privy Councilors. They want everything squared away and neat before having to stand before Her Majesty.”
From what Mei could see, Dwayne, who’d die happy if he got the Tower halfway to neat from “a blind squirrel’s nest”, didn’t need her help beyond watching the door. “Yes.”
“Vogt, are you just going to stand around and chat with civs, or are you going to help?” The other black suit scowled at Mei. “If she’s not a witness, we don’t have time for her.”
“No, she’s not a witness, but…” Charlie’s grin widened. “Maybe she can consult.”
The other scrytive frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Mei’s question exactly.
Charlie gestured to the body. “You think you can help us out?”
Mei crossed her arms. “Help how?”
“Those insights that you gave me last night helped us eliminate several suspects.” Charlie glanced at the other scrytive. “Remember? I told you about the young woman with a mind like a knife? This is her. She saved us weeks of work without even seeing the evidence for herself.” He turned back to Mei. “So, can you help?”
Mei’s eyes dropped down to the body. On the one hand, her experience was with dead animals, not humans.
Charlie patted her on the shoulder. “If you don’t feel up to it, this isn’t an order. We should be able to handle it ourselves.”
The other scrytive snorted. “We’d better be.”
On the other hand, this promised to be far more interesting than watching Maggie and Dwayne perform veiled and subconscious courtship. “I’ll help.” She knelt next to the body.
“Sorry, who are you again?” The other scrytive turned to Charlie. “Who is she?”
“I just said she’s Mei. We met last night.”
Mei peered closely at the back of the body’s head, which was bloody but not as much as she would expect from a head injury. She pulled up the shoulder and examined the back. Most of the blood had come from a small round wound that had pierced the back and come out right under the left ribs. There was no tearing at the entrance or the exit, just a hole. Mei moved on to the body’s boots. She glanced at the direction the heels pointed. East, where the oldest warehouses were.
“Did you move the body?” Mei asked. The few times she had walked by those warehouses, they’d been dark and empty.
The other scrytive scoffed. “Of course, we didn’t.”
“Wagner,” said Charlie. “She doesn’t know about scrytive training.”
“And yet you have her consulting.”
“Mei.” Charlie knelt next to her. “We were thinking that this was a mugging gone wrong. Windsong messengers are fast and secure, good couriers for valuables.” He glanced at the body. “Usually.”`
Mei inspected the bottoms of the boots. They were covered in dried mud of different colors - red, brown and white - and each had bits of sand, dirt, and grass in them. The grass looked familiar, but first she had to reply to Charlie. “Maybe.”
“Helpful.” Wagner sniffed. “Look, it’s a simple grab and stab. His purse is gone, so they probably took the money and ran.”
Charlie looked up at her. “What about his messages?”
“I don’t know. Maybe spy work?” Wagner shrugged. “Maybe someone really wanted to know next week’s sales and hired someone who got a little bit too excited. I mean, look at him. He had to have been hired down in Adhua.”
Charlie shook his head. “Just because he’s swarthy and got those Southern cheekbones doesn’t mean he’s from there.”
Right, that’s where she’d seen the grass. Mei stood up, brushing wet off her breeches. “He’s been to the southern border near the Wall.”
Wagner raised both eyebrows. “Oh?”
Charlie frowned. “Why there specifically?”
Mei pointed at the windsong’s boots. “Walton grass in the mud.”
Wagner snorted. “You recognized the grass? How?”
Mei frowned. “The shape. How else?”
Charlie cut Wagner off. “Any hints as to how he died?”
Mei pointed at the wound. “He was stabbed with something sharp and pointy.”
Wagner rolled her eyes. “Yes, we can see that, thanks.”
“Mei,” Charlie’s hands came together, “is there anything more you can tell us? Something specific?”
Sharp and pointy were specific, but maybe not in Souran.
Mei drew her dagger. “Not like this. More like a heron’s beak.” Both scrytives looked even more confused. “Or like a, a…” A thing that lacked sides but still stabbed. “A nail. A long nail.”
“A nail.” Charlie’s eyes dropped to the wound. “That’s a bit big for a nail.”
Wagner whistled. “Wait, do you mean it didn’t have edges? Like a, a, stiletto?”
Charlie’s confusion disappeared. “Oof, that’s a bad way to go.”
“There are good ways to go?” asked Mei. Not a single death she’d seen had looked “good.”
Charlie rubbed the back of his head. “I hope dying while holding the hand of the one you love wouldn’t be bad.”
For the dying, maybe.
“Got anyone in mind?” Wagner nudged him. “A certain fresh-faced lord perhaps.”
“No, he wouldn’t.” Charlie blushed. “No. Ahem. Anything else, Mei?”
“He died here.” Mei pointed to the clean cobbles around body and the pool of blood. “No drops or smears. The blood is all from his back.” She looked up and pointed. “He fell from up there. He smashed his head when he landed.”
“Even so.” Charlie pointed at the head wound. “The head wound would have just disoriented him, and the gut wound would have only slowed him down. He could have called for help.”
“No help. Not here.” Mei pointed at the old warehouses. “No one lives here. No one works here.”
“Why didn’t he crawl for help then?” asked Wagner. “He didn’t even try.”
Mei looked over the body. Wagner was right. The pool of blood wasn’t even disturbed. “He was tired.”
“Pardon?”
“He was tired. He couldn’t crawl.” Mei put her hands in her pockets. “When star wolves hunt big strong prey, they chase it and harry it and keep it from resting until it’s too tired to move. Then they strike. If a hunter is fast and has the numbers, they can do that with birds too.”
Charlie shook his head. “If the poor boy was already tired from flying all the way here from the Wall, then…”
“He was an easy catch.” Wagner sighed. “Good work, Mei.”
“See?” Charlie nudged her with his elbow. “Told you she’d be helpful.”
Wagner threw her hands up. “I freely acknowledge that you were right. You’re the one who has to do the paperwork to include her in the investigation however. By the way, Mei, I’m Zelda Wagner, Scrytive Second Class. You’re definitely worth listening to Charlie brag about you all morning.”
“Definitely,” said Charlie. “Between those thefts and this murder, you’ve saved us tons of work. You should come on down to the Chamber of the Judiciary and join us.”
Hiding a smile, Mei shook her head. “Thank you, but Lord Kalan is my boss.”
And she had other responsibilities.
Charlie patted her on the back. “The minute you change your mind let me know. We’ll have you in a black suit and silver buttons within the hour.”
Zelda snorted. “As if we could slam through a request that fast. So,” she rubbed her hands together, “you’ll take this and I’ll keep working on the thefts?”
Charlie sighed. “Yes, I’ll take the murder and its associated mountain of paperwork, but you owe me a slice of your wife’s split pie.”
“You got it.”
“And Mei,” Charlie bowed. “Thanks again for your help.”
“You’re welcome.” Mei bowed. “I have to go.”
“Good luck.”
Mei continued north on Nieder.
***
“I apologize.”
In the seat across from the Water Sage, Dwayne froze. “What?”
“I apologize,” repeated Lady Gallus. “Gary and I leaned on you too much last night.” Her eyes drifted down. “It was your introduction to Souran society, and we failed to give you proper support.”
“Support?” Dwayne winced at how his voice squeaked. “Ahem. No, I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I should have anticipated some… difficulty regarding my background.”
“Your background…” Lady Gallus’s gaze drifted to the yard, where grooms continued to train the horses. “While your behavior was childish and puerile-”
“I know it was!” Dwayne placed a hand on his chest. “I promise I’ll be more logical and less emotional in the future.”
Lady Gallus’s attention snapped back to Dwayne, who quailed. “What do you mean ‘less emotional’?”
Dwayne blinked. “That’s what’s expected of Qe mages, that they’re logical, rational, objective and not prone to tantrums.”
Lady Gallus leaned forward. “Who told you that?”
“Baron Thadden.” Dwayne rubbed the back of his neck. “He told me that I have potential, but I should learn to be more like a true Qe mage.”
“That’s not possible. You’re-”
“I know!” Dwayne swallowed his frustration. “I know, but Kalan’s heir has to be Souran, has to be Qe.”
“Oh, cups.” Lady Gallus shook her head. “We’re drifting away from what I wanted to talk to you about. I had a word with Gary about his conversation with you last night.”
Dwayne’s hands gripped his breeches. “The one about the future.” Or more precisely, Magdala’s future.
“Yes.” Lady Gallus took a deep breath. “He was out of line. Bringing up private family business is inappropriate in any public setting, but doing it when it was your night was beyond unacceptable.”
“Oh, it’s okay.” Dwayne forced a laugh. “Courting is the last thing on my mind. Where would I even find the time? Between renovating Sanford, organizing the Tower, studying magic, completing Resonance Theory, and training… other stuff, I’m far too busy to court.”
“Yes, there’s a lot on your plate.” Lady Gallus looked Dwayne in the eye. “That’s why we think that our expectations for you were too high.”
Dwayne slumped his seat. “You’re giving up on me.”
“What?” Lady Gallus grabbed his arm. “No, we just need to lighten your load and let you ease into your role gently.”
Dwayne pulled his arm away. “I can handle the load. It’ll be easier if I convince people I’m Souran.”
“How are you going to do that?”
Good question. “I won’t behave like a, a Wesen.” He just had to act opposite to what Na’cch taught and suppress his feelings. “A Qe mage doesn’t use emotion to power magic, so I just won’t let myself feel, and I won’t do… the other thing.”
Lady Gallus tilted her head. “Okay, if you think that will help. You know yourself best. Meanwhile,” she rose to her feet, “expect Gary’s own apology when he comes to chaperone you and Magdala later today. Until then.” She curtsied and left.
Dwayne stayed seated, ignoring the curious glances of the grooms and smiths as he gathered his thoughts. Letting go of emotions and Ri magic was the only way. Besides, if he didn’t train Ri, then he’d have more time to concentrate on his myriad other tasks.
And to prove he was as Souran as the rest of them.