Dwayne’s mouth went dry at Mei’s words. “She told her?”

Mei nodded even as her eyes still gazed out the carriage window. “Fran said she was really impressed. Maggie was too, until Fran said you ran off. Then she was worried.”

Unlike Francesca, Magdala knew the limits of Dwayne’s Qe magic. If she ever recalled what he’d said the night she’d given him the new Qe core about how it was harder to use than the vials, she’d grow even more concerned.

“Francesca didn’t ask why Magdala was worried?”

Mei shook her head. “She was thinking about something else. She wouldn’t say what.”

It was unlike Magdala’s roommate not to dig at niggling like that. Something really was up. Still, he and Mei had more urgent things to discuss. “We need a plan.”

Mei shrugged. “You distract him. I find the wind dancers.”

“Distract him how?” Dwayne fidgeted with his cuffs. “Find her how? He won’t just let you wander around.”

“We’re Tower.”

“Tower regulates mages, not lay people.” Dwayne clasped his hands to stop the fidgeting. “We don’t have the authority. And you haven’t said how you’ll find them.”

Mei thought about it. “I could sneak in.”

“But if you got caught, that would make things even worse.” Dwayne groaned. He needed to offer solutions, not problems. “Could we maybe focus his attention on me?”

“With fire magic?”

“Are you crazy? If I do that, I’ll…” Wait, he could use fire magic. He just needed a couple of things first.

“Driver,” he tapped the roof, “stop at Sylvan and Fourth.”

A few minutes later and a few coins lighter, Dwayne returned to the carriage with a corked water vial, a dried blue flower petal, and an ukuko feather, dyed bright red.

“Those are?” Mei asked.

“Our solution.”

Dwayne uncorked the vial, carefully dropped the flower petal in, and then paused. Because of Magdala, he knew which nQe spell to cast, but up until now he’d never had the opportunity, or the ability, to do so. There was chance this would be more difficult because his magic still felt unsettled from the practical, but if Mei was able to tell Magdala that he’d successfully cast nQe then Magdala would no longer have any reason to worry about him. That almost made up for her not having any to talk to him.

Imagining the flower petals dissolving into the water, Dwayne said, “nQesiumut.”

The good news was that the petals did dissolve into the water, turning it light blue. The bad news was that his magic magic locked up as his head clanged with pain.

“Are you okay?” Mei asked.

“Yes.”

Hiding a wince, Dwayne dropped the feather into the vial, corked it, handed it to Mei, and then hurried cupped his hands right before a tongue of flame burst into life in his palms. When he dismissed it and his headache with a quick Ri’t, the flame disappeared.

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Mei’s worry did not. “Are you really fine?”

“Yes.” Dwayne took back the vial and held it up. “Here’s our solution.”

Mei looked ready to protest, but the carriage came to a halt before she could.

“Finally,” said Dwayne.

He tried to leave first, but Mei stopped him then dropped down to the street and checked for attackers before allowing Dwayne to exit. Making an effort not to roll his eyes, Dwayne turned to Sorgi’s estate. It was impressive. It long golden fence stretched far to the right and left of an ornate black and gold gate, through which laborers carried crates to carts under the supervision of a burly overseer.

After paying and thanking the driver, Dwayne approached the overseer. “Good afternoon. I’m here to see Mister Ugo Sorgi.”

The rough looking man scowled. “We don’t need any more hands.”

Mei saved Dwayne from responding to that by pointing at the crates and asking, “Why books?”

Dwayne glanced at them. They were all copies of the Book of Cueller. “They’re opening a church?”

“Ha, a church.” The overseer smirked. “As you’ve ever been to-”

“My name,” that was enough of that, “is Dwayne Kalan and I have something to demonstrate to Mister Sorgi.”

The smirk became a sneer. “You ain’t no-”

“Qeuike.”

When the ground beneath the overseer trembled, his face paled. “Oh, you’re-”

“I am Dwayne Kalan of Tarpan.” Dwayne drew himself up to his full height. “Will you show me in, please?”

“I, uh, need to announce you. Just a moment, milord.” The overseer fled into the house.

Dwayne smiled. “That felt good.”

The corners of Mei’s lips quirked. “They see a cub where a grimbear stands.”

However, despite Dwayne’s display of strength, the two of them ended up waiting on the street for notably longer than was polite. The good news what that it gave Dwayne’s magic time to settle. The bad news that it gave Dwayne time to stress out more about how Magdala’s reaction when Mei told her about what had just happened in the carriage.

Mei’s rising tension matched that latter feeling.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

She nodded at the laborers. “They stopped.”

The laborers had indeed stopped carrying crates and switched to talking and smoking, which was strange. Manners didn’t require work to stop during visits.

Eventually, the overseer returned. “Mister Sorgi is ready for you.”

“Good.”

Dwayne and Mei followed the overseer into the house’s foyer, a grand space marred by a shrouded pile of crates and the gaggle of laborers conspicuously on break.

Mei stilled.

“What is it?” Dwayne asked under his breath.

“Nothing.” Mei put herself between Dwayne and the laborers. “Nothing.”

Before Dwayne could ask for clarification, Sorgi’s butler opened a door off to the side. “Milord.”

Dwayne led the way into a room well furnished with books, a fireplace, a large desk, comfortable chairs and, Dwayne’s stomach clenched, a young Wesen woman in a plain white pinafore and yellow dress with a tray of biscuits and hot tea in her hands. As still as the furniture, only her eyes moved to track him and Mei as they entered the room. Another time, another place, Dwayne would have thought her only an unusual servant, but now he knew better. She was a slave.

“Ah, I see you’re admiring Helen.” Sorgi rose from behind his desk, unaware of “Helen’s” face twitching. “I’m training her up for a client. If you’re interested, I have to warn you; new acquisitions can be hard to break in.”

One word and Sorgi and that ridiculously pleased look on his face would be ash.

“I see.” Dwayne managed to erect a smile onto his face instead. “Unfortunately, I only came here to demonstrate personally what Lady Pol and I have on offer.”

“Me and mine?” Sorgi glanced at the vial in Dwayne’s hand. “Oh, those? We have torches. We don’t need mages to do what a bit of wood and oil can.”

While Dwayne wanted to rage, to scream, “Helen” reminded him of the value of someone doing what you could do yourself.

He nodded towards her. “What kind of people pay for this?’”

Sorgi raised an eyebrow. “The kind who bear privilege and prize prestige.”

“This,” Dwayne placed the vial on Sorgi’s desk, “is prestige, a privilege that only my office can grant. Everything I’ve done so far, the demonstrations, the talks, all of it, has only been to stoke interest.”

Sorgi scoffed. “And? What does that have to do with me? We’re already too reliant on mages as it is, and you want to-”

“Give you exclusive rights.”

Sorgi goggled. “What? Why?”

“Because,” Dwayne’s stomach roiled at his own words, “you know how to sell prestige.”

“Ah.” Sorgi’s eyes gleamed. “That is quite the opportunity.”

“Yes. Mei,” Dwayne did not allow his eyes to leave the pile of slime standing behind the desk, “please go retrieve the relevant papers?”

“Yes, my lord.” Mei bowed and left the room.

“She won’t take long.” Dwayne sat down, satisfied Mei would take advantage of the opportunity. “Now tell me. Who do we start with?”