Extant: one bed, sheets left pristine.

Instead of going to Juanelo’s funeral, Mei was cataloging her brother’s room at Sanford.

One small wooden box, empty, left on nightstand.

This was the fifteenth time.

She continued: one pair of underpants, barely used, left on floor; one pair of stockings, once damp, left on chair; one pair of boots, one tossed into corner, the other under bed; one midnight blue guard’s jacket, flung onto wardrobe; one pair of black trousers, crumpled up, lying in front of door; one window, now closed.

Missing was one sword, one scabbard, one blue scarf, one pair of soft-soled shoes, one apology, one excuse, one note, any hint he’d cared, any indication he’d hesitated even one moment’s hesitation before leaving her.

The first time Mei had done this, she’d been sad.

The fifth time, she’d been angry, realizing that he’d completely forgotten she could read, which why he’d hadn’t left a note.

The eleventh time, that anger was gone, leaving her only with the certainty that she’d missed something and that once she found it, she could follow it to him and ask him why he’d-

No, not yet. She wasn’t ready to even think it.

“Mei?” Charlie poked his head into the room, projecting a priest’s patience and a mother’s concern. “Shall we move on?”

When he’d asked the other four times he’d attended, Mei had lied, had answered “yes,” but now she shook her head because this time was the last time.

Yesterday at the Magisterium Commissary, Fran, who’d attended three catalogings, and Maggie, who’d attended six, had sat Mei down and asked her if she was okay.

“You don’t really look at things anymore,” Fran had said. “You used to be so curious.”

“Don’t worry.” Maggie had said. “They’ll find him and the robbers.”

Mei should have been able to respond to both observation and assurance with bland confirmation, but when she looked at things, they reminded her that he wasn’t there and the “they” who will find her brother was only her and so she’d cried instead of answering.

Here at Sanford, Mei closed her eyes to free her mind from looking and allow it to put the pieces of this mystery together. When sadness threatened to derail her, she shouldered it aside because after fourteen attempts it was an old familiar guest. The important thing was his missing sword. As Dwayne’s bodyguard the night of the Harvest Ball, he should have had the sword on him, but no one at the Royal Secretary’s Office party had seen that characteristic thin, single-edged blade. After escaping the Palace, he should have left the sword, he had those magic knives after all, but Mei knew the beast in the mask would never leave a weapon behind.

With sadness thwarted, guilt tried to muscle in, reminded her that she should be at Juanelo’s funeral, should be there with Dwayne and Lady Pol to see one of the consequences of her brother’s actions, which included-

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

No, not yet.

Opening her eyes, Mei forced herself to pick up the one thing she’d willfully ignored during the previous catalogings: the once-damp stockings. They shouldn’t be unusual. Bradford’s wet autumn had produced wet nights, and she’d found signs that her brother had hidden himself outside a Gray Tower window. But, Mei sniffed the stockings, those facts failed to explain why these stockings didn’t smell like earth or awrock dung or dying leaves, the smells of Bradford’s streets, and that night the Royal Guard had interrogated Mei and Charlie for hours, giving her brother plenty of time to go somewhere else before returning here.

Mei handed the stockings to Charlie. “What do these smell like?”

Charlie made a face, but sniffed regardless. “Sweat and… the river?”

“Yes.” They’d smelled of mud and mold and fish. “Let’s go.”

They made their way downstairs, passed by the dining room where Rodion was preparing for a lunch Dwayne was hosting - Mei nodded and he understood - and then left the estate, turning east up Oben Avenue before Charlie could call a carriage. There was no hurry to get to the river. The beast in the mask would stay anywhere too long.

As autumn continued to fall away, the richer residents of Bradford shrugged off whites, teals, and pinks and donned black, gold, and maroon, making Charlie’s black coat look usual and Mei’s new indigo cloak look unusual. The cloak had been issued by Lady Pol, who’d had it specially made to fit Mei’s build and height. It was held closed at her neck with a tiny silvery ax clasp, which was Saundra’s apology for how long it was taking to get the real one to her. Magdala had given it to Mei at lunch and probably had explained more, but Mei’s mind had been too full of her brother’s old room to hear.

When they hit Nieder Street, Charlie asked, “So you think he returned to Sanford after going to the river?”

Mei turned south. “Yes.”

“Why go to the river?”

“To hide. They needed a place to heal and to decide next steps.”

“They could have crossed the Brad.”

Mei frowned. “What’s on the other side?”

“The wall. The Plague District. South Gate and Sen Quincy’s at West Gate and Sen Jerome’s at East Gate.”

Sen Jerome’s had monks. Kay was a monk. “But the monks said they didn’t know who Kay was.”

“They did.” Charlie’s eyes glinted. “And yet, they let him through.”

Mei shrugged. That wasn’t relevant. “We can ask if anyone saw them cross.”

Charlie glanced at her. “But?”

“But he would hide.”

“I see.”

Mei went a few paces before she noticed that Charlie had stopped. She turned back. “What is it?”

Charlie gestured at the Bilges. “I know you haven’t been back.”

Mei’s stomach clenched. “He wouldn’t go back there.”

“Maybe not, but you should.”

Mei opened her mouth, tried to find the words that would prove his untrue, but all she could say was that she didn’t want to go. Her brother had helped to murder someone, had robbed others, had done… other things, and that meant anything he’d left behind was worth going back for. “Fine.”

It didn’t take long to reach the old warehouse tenement and soon they were crossing the common room.

“Mei?” Mrs. Schofeld looked up from her pot. “Oh, it’s been a long time.”

“Good morning.” Mei didn’t stop, not even to smell Mrs. Schofeld’s cooking, which appeared to be mainly onions and tiny cabbage-like greens. “We won’t be long.”

“Is this about that business up at the Palace? If I’d known about that, I would have given him a piece of my mind when I last saw him. He’s a terrible big brother.”

Mei went still. Was she implying…

“Mrs. Schofeld,” Charlie stepped between them, “when did you last see Huan Ma?”

“Oh,” Mrs. Schofeld blinked, as if seeing the scrytive, his long black coat, and silver badge for the first time, “what’s he done?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” Charlie smiled. “Mei’s just doing her duty.”

Mrs. Schofeld leaned back. “I haven’t seen him for, oh, a month at least.”

Mei let out a breath. The Harvest Ball had been two weeks ago. “Can we look at the room?”

“Of course.” Mrs. Schofeld stood up and brushed herself off. “It’s past mid-autumn. I won’t be able to find renters until spring comes.”

Spring was another world away. Mei bowed. “Thank you.”

“Mind the noise.” Mrs. Schofeld directed this at Charlie. “People around here need their shut-eye.”