As Dwayne got dressed, Mei waited with the carriage. On the other side of the street, people dressed in loose scarves of various colors had started shopping and eating and doing errands in stark contrast with her side where nothing and no one stirred. She’d seen people dressed like that before back in Walton.

Akunna stomped out of her apartment. “It’s like he ain’t never worn a dress before.”

Mei pointed across the street. “Have you seen any windsong go in there?”

“Yeah, all the time.” The maid’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I’m looking for one.” Mei hadn’t even considered searching the Plague District since mages should be able to afford better, but they hadn’t found Juanelo anywhere else so it was worth a shot.

“If you can’t find one there, you can’t find one anywhere.” Akunna glared at Dwayne as Rodion helped him out of her apartment. “Finally.”

“Thank you for helping me.” Dwayne reached for his empty hip. “If I can repay you in any way-”

“Just make sure you give me that dress back in one piece. No blood or tears.”

Dwayne cleared his throat. “I, uh, also apologize-”

Akunna’s raised hand cut him off. “Don’t. Just go.”

“Okay.” Dwayne allowed Rodion to help him into the carriage. When Mei didn’t follow, he frowned. “Are you coming, Mei?”

“No, I’m going there.”

Dwayne followed Mei’s finger to the waking Vanurian Quarter. “Oh. You think…?”

Mei nodded.

“Then good luck. I’ll see you back at Sanford. Let’s go, Rodion.”

When mage and steward were safely away, Mei said good-bye to Akunna, crossed the muddy street, and entered the densest part of Bradford she’d seen yet. The Vanurian Quarter’s streets were much narrower than those in the Bilges, leaving little room for carts and stands and so sellers sold wares right out of their doors and windows to buyers who had to sidle past each other to go down the street. Mei had to do so herself as she resisted the siren call of the sweet and savory and then found herself very lost. Apparently, only having a vague notion of where Juanelo had lived was not enough to actually find him. She’d need a sign so she looked up.

As numerous as the leaves in a trees, the signs on the buildings of the Vanurian Quarter promised food, drink, pens, something to do with lips, and so much more, but what caught Mei’s eye as she stumbled down the street was a sign graced with a green three-tailed maned panther. While the whole thing wasn’t at all familiar, its parts looked very familiar, and so by the time she’d made her way to the open half door that lay underneath the panther, she wasn’t surprised to find a lean bald woman in fitted green windsong leathers.

The windsong glanced up from her fingernails, saw Mei’s uniform, and straightened up. “If your noble employer wants something delivered anywhere in the Queendom cheaply, neatly, and discreetly, then you’ve come to the right place.”

“I don’t need that.” Mei pointed up at the sign. “That’s your provisional license symbol?”

“Yeah.” Toni crossed her arms. “Why?”

“Have you ever seen a windsong with a stamp of a yellow bird with a big tuft of feathers on its head and a short tail?”

The windsong took a moment to assemble that image in her head. “That sounds like Juanelo’s mark.”

Finally, Mei was close. “Do you know where he lived?”

“Did?” Toni leaned forward. “Why past tense?”

“Juanelo is dead.”

“By Phons.” Toni’s fingertips formed a sign and fell into praying hands. “He was doing good work. They’ll miss him around here.”

“Where did he live?”

“I’ll draw you a map.” Toni pulled out pen an,d paper. “The Ybarras live a few blocks to the south of here and it’s an absolute maze, and… Oh, Phons… They don’t know, do they?”

“I’ll tell them.”

Mei thanked the windsong, took the map, and made it all the way to the street corner before she processed what the windsong had said. Juanelo Rincón Ybarra had had parents, siblings, maybe even cousins, and what she had to say was going to wreck their world.

***

“That was reckless, my lord.”

Dwayne’s hand paused on the doorknob to his room. “Yes, I know. Again, I’m sorry.” Not least for the way the steward’s hands had shook while scolding Dwayne on the ride home. “I’m not going anywhere today so I think you should get some rest.”

“My lord,” Rodion drew himself up, “my injuries were mild compared to yours.”

While Rodion’s hair hid it well, there was still an obvious bruise on the stewards scalp, but comparing head trauma to nearly bleeding out sounded like a tedious exercise.

“Then maybe lunch?” asked Dwayne.

“Yes, my lord.” Rodion bowed. “I’ll get started right away.”

“Thank you.”

As the steward went downstairs, Dwayne entered his room and let out a breath. He was sorry for worrying Rodion. He wasn’t sorry for trying to recover Na’cch, even knowing that he’d failed.

He shed Akunna’s spare maid uniform as he made his way over to the bed. The dress had been more comfortable than he’d expected, certainly more so than Lord Gallus’s suits, but Soura’s nobility had distinct views on men who wore dresses and a Ri mage who was pretending to be a Qe mage lacked did not have room for that kind of trouble.

Flopping onto the bed, Dwayne took stock of the damage from last night. He’d broken his oath not to cast Ri magic, had lost Na’cch and any chance to learn new Ri spells, had nearly died from having his chest ripped open, and had definitely missed morning classes. There was some gain - the ability to cast magic silently, Thadden’s ownership of Akunna, and the fact that Mei’s murderers and his thieves were significant learnings - but incidental gains couldn’t be used to justify what had been a disaster.

Last night might have been a disaster for the thieves as well. There was no way that a group targeting Golden Age texts would find Na’cch worth all the effort of fighting Mei and Dwayne. Unless Na’cch was just a bonus.

Dwayne rolled out of bed, dressed in his pink suit, he couldn’t bear the thought of the new ones at the moment, and went down to the kitchen, where Rodion was filling a tray with bread and cheese.

“Have you inventoried the books yet?” Dwayne asked.

“I was going to bring this to you.” Rodion lifted the tray. “You should be in bed.”

“I’m not tired. Have you?”

“I haven’t had the time. I… We…” The tray in Rodion’s hands trembled. “You were missing, my lord.”

“Rodion,” Dwayne took the tray, “I’m here and I’m fine. I’ll take this downstairs and do the inventory myself.”

“You should rest.”

Dwayne tried on his best grin, said “Counting books is restful” then left before the steward could protest.

When he arrived in the dark basement, he lit a lantern so that he could inspect the room, which was in the exact same condition he’d left it in: outer door was in pieces, barrels of beer strewn about, boxes of books lying open. He settled down next to the boxes, placed the tray of food on his knees and started cataloging. He was about two dozen books in before he realized what his mistake.

He’d casted Ri’a’tha without thinking. To be fair, he’d used up his entire supply of matches on that stunt with “Ash” and even in the day the cellar was extremely dark, but to cast without thinking, worse without noticing, made him a danger to his secret. Only the thought of any more missing books kept his panic at bay. He continued his inventory.

When he was done, there were twelve tomes, all entries on Rodion’s rare book list, not in their expected place in the boxes. Considering the fact that each book was pretty thick, it should have been possible for someone to steal just one of them without Dwayne noticing, let alone all twelve. Even if the brute with the stiletto hadn’t been unconscious, he and the wind Qe would have had trouble carrying that many. Something else was going on here.

After putting away the books and returning the tray to the kitchen, Dwayne found Rodion in the foyer dusting. “You compiled a list of books. Where are they?”

“Upstairs.” Rodion didn’t stop dusting. “Oh, this just came for you via windsong.”

Dwayne accepted the plain envelope and opened it. The message inside was scrawled in a very familiar script. “It’s from Mei.” He put it in his pocket. “Why are those books upstairs?”

“I had to take them out of their boxes to verify their contents.” Rodion offered Dwayne an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry. I forgot to put them back.”

“It’s fine.” If strangely lax of the steward. “With any luck, that kept the robbers from taking anything else. Still, I’d like to see them please.”

Rodion hesitated, just long enough for Dwayne to notice before saying, “Yes, my lord. Right away.”

***

Following Toni’s map led Mei to a narrow house sandwiched between two other houses on the outer edge of the quarter, where the crowds had finally thinned out enough that it was possible to walk without being shoulder to shoulder with a stranger. Unlike Toni, Juanelo’s windsong sign didn’t just have his stamp on it; it had a fully painted bird with bright eager expression in his eyes. It, and the immaculate doorstep it overlooked, stood in contrast to the faded peeling walls of the house itself, although there were no other signs that the house was in need of repair. The roof looked better than Sanford’s to be honest.

And Mei was going to have to walk up to it, knock on the door and tell Juanelo’s family that he was dead. She could do what her brother had done and lie about what had happened to Juanelo, but she knew first hand that that only delayed the inevitable and would add a measure of guilt that she didn’t want to inflict on anyone.

So that was out.

Blowing out a breath, Mei walked up to the house, raised her hand to knock on the door, and stopped at the sounds of talking and laughing and the kind of pauses that emerge from those little moments when nothing more needed to be said. Her words would break those pauses into sobs and silence.

She didn’t have to do this. She could go get Charlie, tell him about this place, and he’d come and tell the family the bad news. All she’d have to do was endure the guilt of knowing that she’d denied Juanelo’s family a chance to start mourning, to start dealing with the hole in the world that used to be their son or brother or cousin.

It wouldn’t take long.

It would only take forever.

She knocked on the door. Beyond it, the laughter stopped and things shifted, and finally, the door opened, revealing a older woman in scarves that were every color in the rainbow.

The woman frowned when she first saw Mei then she stiffened when she saw the uniform. “Soldier, lost are you? This is not the kind of place that you’re looking for.”

“My name is Mei.” Mei bowed. “I’m here about Juanelo.”

The woman pulled her scarves tight around her body. “What about my son?”

She was his mother. Mei’s heart lurched. “Eleven days ago, his body was found-“

“No!” Juanelo’s mother fell back and was caught by a younger woman.

The younger woman glared at Mei. “What are you saying to my mother, soldier?”

“Eleven days ago,” Mei repeated, “your brother’s body was found on Nieder street next to a warehouse.”

“He’s…” There was hopeful doubt in his sister’s eyes. “Are you sure? Your masters always have trouble telling us apart.”

“I… He…” Mei got her voice back under control. “There was a bag next to the body. It had that on it.” She pointed up at the sign. “The body wore sky blue leather. It had black and curly hair. He’d been near Walton recently.”

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As his sister’s doubt died, Juanelo’s mother wailed, “Juan!”

As Mei fought to keep her face still at the sound of her own brother’s name, Juanelo’s sister called out, “Iggy! Iggy, come down here!”

A well-fed young boy came running down the stairs. “What is it?”

“Take Mama. I have to do deal with the soldier.”

“Why?” Iggy bent under his mother’s weight. “What’s happened?”

“Juan’s dead.”

“What?”

“Just get Mama onto the couch.” Juanelo’s sister faced Mei. “So, where is he?”

“At the Chamber,” answered Mei.

“Those heathens haven’t burned him, have they?”

“Not yet. We…” No, can’t get that close. “There was hope that someone would come and claim him.”

“I will do that.” Juanelo’s sister straightened up. “Tell them Ximena Rincón Ybarra will come to pick up her brother.”

“I will.”

“Good.” Ximena moved to close the door. “Thank you for telling us, Mei. We have a lot of things to do now so-”

“I can catch the killer,” blurted out Mei.

Ximena paused. “Can you? I know a Souran did this, probably to get at another Souran. Even if you found the killer, what would you, a Tuquese, do?”

Mei’s answer surprised even Mei. “Justice.”

“Justice?” Ximena’s laugh was bitter. “When Vanurians die, Soura’s justice turns away.”

“I don’t.” Whatever justice was, it had to start with someone facing what happened. “But I’ll need your help.”

“Go home, and leave us to mourn our brother.”

“Mena.” Juanelo’s mother gotten off the couch. “We have a duty.”

“But, Mama!” The rest of Ximena’s protest was entirely in Vanurian, but Mei got the gist of it.

“I know, Mena.” Juanelo’s mother placed her hand on her daughter’s cheek. “But she wants to help.”

“Fine.” Ximena stepped away. “I have to go get dressed anyway.” She indicated the long tunic she was wearing. “The Chamber won’t even let me in the door dressed like this.”

As Ximena went upstairs, her mother asked, “What do you need?”

“His killer had help. Another windsong. Do you have any idea who?”

“Ignacio?” Juanelo’s mother turned to her son. “You’ve dated a couple of windsong, yes?”

“No Vanurian windsong did it,” said Iggy. “

They’re like crows: they’ll fight each other all day until someone else is dumb enough to mess with them and then that someone is meat.”

“There were Souran windsong though. One of them offered to take our dead home. What were their names?”

Iggy scowled. “That sounds like Orlaith Jung.”

His mother caught the look of confusion on Mei’s face. “When we die, some part of us needs to go home or else we’ll never rest. My Juan, he… that was one of the things he did. He should have been a priest.”

Mei nodded, mainly because she couldn’t think of anything else to do. “You said there were more?”

“The other one had a fluffy kind of name,” said the mother. “What was it?”

“Tiffany Burks?” asked her son.

“That was it.” The mother turned to Mei. “Is that enough?”

“It should be.” Mei bowed as deeply as she could. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Before leaving the quarter, she stopped by Toni’s stall and sent off two letters.

***

The attic, a dusty room that ran the span of the estate, was filled with old things: furniture, paintings, clothing, as well as assortment of buckets in order to limit the damage from the constantly leaking roof, the very reason the books had had to be moved down to the cellar in the first place.

Rodion stepped around one of these buckets. “I believe a roofer was on the list Miss Lucchesi gave us.”

“Unless they take payment in promises, fixing the roof is going to have to wait.” Dwayne carefully stepped over a bucket. “Between expanding Walton’s staff, paying the Ma siblings, and funding whatever project Lord Kalan is working on, we’re very deep into our savings.”

“I believe that your new fire spell vials would cover expenses.”

“I told you those are not for sale.”

“So you have, my lord.”

They reached the driest corner of the attic where a small collection of books rested on an ancient table.

Dwayne counted them. “There’s only eleven.”

“What?” Rodion checked. “I swear I left all of them here.”

Dwayne’s stomach clenched. “So, they somehow got past Mei and Huan and made it all the way up here.”

Rodion winced. “Mei, yes. Her brother, no. Miss Ma was on shift last night.“

Dwayne’s fists curled. “We explicitly told him not to do that.” There was something Thadden had said. “Oh, that’s why the baron he said we didn’t have any security.”

“Mei said she was watching the door.”

As Rodion relayed Mei’s version of events, Dwayne arranged the books they had into a grid.

“She says she only just got away,” finished Rodion.

Dwayne narrowed his eyes. “Mei, Axesnapper, hero of the jungle and slayer of corpse monster, only just got away?”

His steward shrugged. “I suspect that more happened, but she wasn’t willing to go into details.”

“Good to know that everyone is hiding something, I guess.” Dwayne didn’t notice Rodion’s disquiet as he inspected the grid he’d formed out of the rare books. “Fluid, Vapors, Gases and Their Myriad Applications by the Sixth Committee is missing.”

The Committees had been the precursor to the Royal Sorcerers, and the Sixth one would have been the best known of them if all of their work hadn’t been made forbidden-to-copy by royal decree around the end of the Golden Age.

“I never got around to reading it,” said Dwayne. “The copier’s penmanship makes Mei’s look professional.”

“Would it perhaps be in the Terminal Tome?”

“Possibly.” Dwayne rubbed his chin. “What I don’t understand is when it was stolen. Mei sees the wind Qe mage break into the house, tries to stop them, but ends up fighting the stiletto fighter and the knife fighter in the blue mask. Her opponents split up and Mei chases the knife fighter, which I guess gives the stiletto fighter time to come down from the roof, knock you out, steal the book, and then come back to knock out Thadden and fight me. No, that’s far too much.”

“Perhaps the thief you chased returned here after your altercation?” asked Rodion.

“If she was able to come back after dragging away her partner, then she deserved to steal the book. And even if she did, how did she know to look in the attic? For that matter, how did she know to look in the cellar? We just moved the books there.”

Rodion’s reply sounded distant. “Luck?”

“Possibly.” Dwayne frowned. “Okay, so what if they didn’t steal the book during the attack? What if they’d already stolen it by then? Mei never saw where the knife fighter came from, right?”

“She says he came up behind her.”

“Right so we have no idea where he was before then. For all we know, he broke in before the attack, stole the book, and then went back outside to go back up his buddy.”

“Then why attack at all?” asked Rodion. “They had what they came for.”

Good question. “Greed maybe? Or a change in the plans? All I have is speculation, but we do have some idea of how they usually break in.” Dwayne started to inspect the windows. “Do you remember seeing any broken windows downstairs?”

“No, my lord.” Rodion watched Dwayne with a frown. “What are you doing?”

“According to Mei’s report, the scrytives always a single pane of glass broken in each of the robbed houses. Like… here.” Dwayne peered through the broken pane at the rooftop across the street. “This was how they got in.”

“No one can fit through that, my lord.”

“Xa mages can turn into birds and bats.”

“Xa mages are not known to leave the Empire, my lord.”

“‘Not known’ and ‘don’t’ aren’t the same things.” Dwayne knelt to inspect the floor. “There should be a mark… Huh, there isn’t one. That’s different.”

“My lord,” Rodion’s voice sounded far away, “what are you planning to do next?”

“First,” Dwayne stood up, “I need to find out what was in that book. Once I know what they stole, I’ll have a better idea of what they want to do.” There was one other thing. “Is there a style of combat designed to fight mages?”

“There are quite a number of them.” Rodion leaned against the table. “Several Imperial ones, a nearly lost one from South Wesen, a couple in Vanuria-”

“And here?”

“Sen Jerome’s specifically trains its cenobites in anti-mage combat.” Rodion gave Dwayne an odd look. “Why do you ask?”

“Because the stiletto fighter definitely knew how to fight mages.” Dwayne yawned. “After looking up the book, I’ll see if I can grab my class-”

“No, rest.” Rodion silenced his ward’s protest with a look. “I’ll get your class notes.”

Dwayne gave up. “Fine.”

***

That afternoon, Magdala stepped out of the Exchange and into the yawning innards of Her Majesty’s Own Repository. Large enough to hold six Sanfords arranged double-file and packed with crates, laborers, and turquoise-caped Royal Inspectors, the Repository was the penultimate stop for any goods going to the Palace. When she was a little girl, Magdala had marveled at the fragrant spices from Adhua, the beaded fabrics from Cairnborne, the fresh ores from Ponne, and had wished that her family offered any of those instead of stinky boring horses, which were nothing like these pieces of the world beyond the Gallus family estates.

Now, she took no notice as she made her way over to the Repository’s eastern wall, where a motley system of lifts and pulleys was attended to by a team of earthhoists.

One of them caught sight of her. “Good evening, milady.”

“Good evening.” Before she could think better of it, Magdala got on the lift. “I’m going up.”

“Milady,” the earthhoist’s smile showed teeth, “I’m afraid the Office is quite busy at this time.”

“When isn’t it?” Magdala kept her eyes away from the bits of rope and wood she’d be surrendering herself to. “I’ll be quick.”

“Understood.” The earthhoist signaled her partner on the platform above them. “We’ll have you up there right away.”

Some part of Magdala, the one that always wondered what Dwayne or Francesca would do in any social situation, emitted a strained “Thank you” before she grabbed the railing, closed her eyes, and waited for the end.

“Qechicieut,” said the earthhoist.

Ropes twanged, wood groaned, and Magdala ascended with only a soft whimper. She wasn’t afraid of heights, she’d been higher, nor was she all that concerned about relying on someone else’s magic, although that fact didn’t excite either. However, she, like all Magisterium Academy students, had spent a year studying basic mechanics, which had failed to instill in her an assurance that this contraption wouldn’t drop her a dozen wir to her death. What it had done was give her the ability to calculate exactly how much velocity she’d have gained by the time she hit the ground.

“Milady?”

Cups, why did they build this thing?

“Milady, we’re here.”

Magdala opened her eyes. She was indeed on the upper level of the Repository, and she was in one piece.

“Oh.” She escaped with a muttered “Thank you” and fled before she could to remember that she’d to use that thing to go back down.

The Exchequer’s Office took up the entire top floor of the Repository and was arranged like an amphitheater with seventeen graduated platforms stepping down to the Exchequer’s desk, which provided a vantage point for the Privy Council member to oversee each of his inspectors, auditors, and accountants as they scribbled notes, delivered reports, and processed forms. There were no lamps here. Instead the space was filled with the gray light streaming through the hundreds of clear glass panels that made up the ceiling.

It was so impressive Magdala almost wanted to work here herself.

“Milady?” A functionary approached her cautiously. “Are you here for a specific purpose?” He glanced at her cloak clasp. “Perhaps on behalf of your lord father?”

Magdala scanned the room. “I’m here for Francesca Lucchesi.”

The functionary blinked. “Miss Lucchesi? Oh in that case I can-”

“Nevermind, I see her.” There was a bright spot of sunlight yellow in the sea of turquoise. “Thank you.”

Leaving the functionary dumb-founded, Magdala navigated her way to the other end of the Office and found her roommate listening with rapt attention to an explanation of the Office ledgers. Francesca was so engrossed that it wasn’t until the accountant she was listening to said, “Miss, you’ve got a guest” that she turned around.

“Mag! Why are you here?” The glad sparkles faded from Francesca’s eyes. “Oh. This is about your project.”

Wow, this was bad. “I just want to talk.”

“I see.” Francesca turned to the accountant. “Will you excuse me, Ronaldo? My roommate feels her concerns are important enough to interrupt.”

“Of course, Miss Lucchesi.” Ronaldo hurriedly retrieved his ledgers. “I believe you can figure out the rest anyway.” He scampered away.

“Come on.” Francesca took Magdala by the elbow and dragged her into an isolated alcove. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Magdala had planned to say something smooth or at least neutral, but the part of her that was capable of that cowered under Francesca’s tone leaving the less thoughtful part to say, “I lied to Dean Bruce today.”

Francesca’s jaw dropped. “You did? Why?”

Horror made Magdala to bite down on her first response - “Because of you and Colin” - before it left her lips, allowing her contrition to offer “Because I didn’t want to admit that I screwed up.”

When her roommate didn’t respond, Magdala continued. “That’s also why I said you were stupid, but you’re not and Colin isn’t either, but I wanted the experiment to work the first time so that things could go back to the way they were before my suspension, but of course they can’t be because you’re here doing something you love and, and, I’m sorry.”

Francesca raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite the apology.”

“Well,” Magdala’s ears heated, “I had the whole walk over here to figure it out. Parts of it anyway.”

Francesca whistled. “That’s a quite walk.”

“I have no idea how Mei does it everyday.”

“She’s a hunter by trade. I imagine she’s done a lot of walking.” Francesca let out a breath. “I accept your apology, and I’m sorry for giving you the cold shoulder for so long. You’re right that things can’t be like they were, but that’s a good thing. Before you would have just assumed my forgiveness and I would have given it to you and we’d have learned nothing.”

Magdala smiled. “Things do seem to be better for you. You’re not bored all the time anymore.”

Francesca grinned. “I was only bored when you weren’t around so when you left, I had to find something to do or go mad.”

They laughed.

“So, are we good?” asked Magdala.

“We’re good.” Francesca pulled her into a hug.

After getting her fill, Magdala squeezed her friend and stepped back. “I promise to do better as team leader.” She sighed. “Mei tried to help me with that, but-”

“She said something about birds or wolves, and it didn’t make any sense?”

“Well, she talked about hunt leaders following and having the same talk.”

“The same talk. Huh. Let me show you something.” Francesca led Magdala back out of the alcove. “See Ronaldo over there? He’s a senior accountant, which means that he has juniors under him who count on him and a principal accountant above him who supervises him. Whenever his team is working on a particularly complex account, he doesn’t just expect his juniors to read his mind nor does he do it all himself. He calls a meeting, and together, they figure out how to complete the task in a timely manner. It’s how things work around here from the lowest intern to the Exchequer himself.”

Magdala gave her roommate a look. “Aren’t you learning about accounting?”

Francesca laughed. “It turns out that summers on the Lucchesi docks were a very good education in accounting.”

“Want to trade? The Gallus estates are a master’s education in horsecraft.”

Francesca wrinkled her nose. “No, I don’t. I can barely stand to ride those lifts they use here.”

Magdala grinned. “You hate them too?”

“I loathe them, but it’s Office rules; everyone has to take it. Only Her Majesty’s windsong may skip it.”

A quiet settled between them, and for a moment, despite everything they’d said and done, it was like it was before, just two girls being friends.

Francesca broke the spell. “You will not do that again. Imagine if you’d said something like that to Dwayne.”

The mere thought made Magdala’s stomach churn. “I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, why not?”

Magdala blinked. “Because I just wouldn’t. I mean you didn’t like it so why would he?”

Francesca rolled her eyes. “You’re so dense. Glad to see that hasn’t changed. Have you apologized to Colin yet?”

“No, not yet.” Magdala looked away. “He’s been avoiding me.”

“You want me to talk to him first?”

Yes. “No, I should talk to him. I owe him a direct apology. I don’t think he’ll want to come back though.”

“Oh, he’ll come back.” Francesca smirked. “He’s like you and Dwayne; he researches magic for the thrill of the chase.”

“What chase?”

Both mages screamed, forcing Mei to wait for their heart beats to slow back down before saying, “Sanford was robbed last night.”

Magdala’s heart beat picked back up. “Is Dwayne okay? How could that happen? Did they take anything?” Mei’s sheathe was empty. “What happened to your dagger?”

“Dwayne is fine.” Mei’s tone was stiff as she answered each question in turn. “There were three of them and Huan wasn’t there. They took Dwayne’s book. I lost the dagger during the fight.”

“Are you okay?” asked Francesca.

“Yes.”

Magdala’s mind latched onto the least alarming thing Mei had said. “Which book did they take?”

Mei turned to Magdala, her eyes hollow. “Dwayne’s book.”

“Dwayne has lots of…” But he didn’t. He only had Na’cch. “Oh.”

“This isn’t the place to discuss this.” Francesca looped her arms into her friends’ and pulled them towards the exit. “Let’s go to that restaurant Mei took us earlier.”

“I’m not hungry,” said Mei.

Magdala and Francesca looked at each other. They’d never heard Mei say that before.

“All the more reason why you should eat,” said Francesca. “You can tell us all about it when your stomach isn’t empty.”