“You seriously believe,” Dwayne’s grip on his presentment of interest was slipping, “we should prevent common-born mages from attending the Academy?”

“Not completely!” Sorgi spread his hands. “Any truly remarkable mages should obviously attend.”

“But blood and money are sufficient?”

“Blood and money,” the merchant leaned in, “are more than sufficient. Blood marks Cueller’s favor and money must be earned by wits and cunning.”

“And what of me?” Dwayne forced his fingers free of the chair arms. “I have neither.”

“You?” Sorgi’s jaw worked for a moment before he managed a smile. “You have Her Majesty’s commendation for what you did in Walton, and she’s confirmed your status as Lord Kalan’s heir.” Dwayne could almost applaud the even delivery. “But I ask this: are you one of those who preaches we’re all the same in the eyes of Cueller, who closes his eyes to the decay and blight eating away at the heart of Souran society?”

“Hardly!” Dwayne forced out a laugh. “I only wonder if titles and currency matter when it comes to judging a mage’s skills. As for the rest of society,” he made a gesture that included the slaver standing before him, “who’s to say?”

Mei’s return prevented Sorgi from hearing the teeth in that question.

“D-, milord.” She knelt next to Dwayne and whispered, “We should go.”

Sorgi’s eyes narrowed. “Where are those papers?”

Mei hadn’t been gone long enough to search the house, but Dwayne was out of patience.

He rose to his feet. “Unfortunately, she has left them at the estate. Perhaps we can continue this discussion at a later date?”

Sorgi’s easy manner fell away, his eyes narrowing. “What are you up to?”

“Business I presume. Another day then.” Dwayne turned to go.

Sorgi’s guard blocked him. “This one was in the back.” She glared at Mei. “Snooping.”

“Oh? Why was she there?” Sorgi crossed his arms. “And I must ask you again, young Kalan, what are you up to?”

Sorgi was attempting to project threat, but even through his barely controlled rage, Dwayne had sampled Sorgi’s mannerisms. When his guard had said where Mei had been, the slaver’s face had paled.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Dwayne raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

Sorgi’s face twisted. “You-”

“Your tea, master.” “Helen” placed a cup on her owner’s desk before turning to Dwayne. “Would you like some, milord?”

Dwayne’s hard-won manners kicked in. “No, thank you. I was just leaving. Good day, Mister Sorgi.”

“Good day,” said Sorgi.

Before the slaver realized he’d dismissed them, Dwayne and Mei were out the door. As they quickly walked to the street, Dwayne marveled at how deftly “Helen” had used propriety to defuse the situation. Hopefully, he’d have the chance to return the favor.

“Did you find her?” Dwayne asked Mei.

She shook her head. “No. I sent someone else.”

“What? Who?” Dwayne lowered his voice as they exited Sorgi’s property. “How do you know you can trust them?”

Mei shrugged. “I don’t.”

“Then-”

“Miss Ma!” A bare-armed laborer ran after them. “Miss Ma! I have a message for you!”

Dwayne glanced at Mei. “Is this…?”

Mei put Dwayne behind her. “No.”

“Hey.” The woman caught up to them and folded over to pant. “Wow, you’re fast.”

“The message?” Mei asked.

“Right, um, here.” The laborer handed over a scrap of paper. “He said you’d know.”

Mei glanced at it then handed it to Dwayne. “Anything else?”

“Naw, he’s gone. Said his mother was sick.” The laborer gave a wave. “I gotta get back though. Good day.”

Dwayne stepped forward. “Wait, you-”

“Thank you!” Mei kept Dwayne back. “Good day.”

As the laborer scampered off, Mei let Dwayne go. “He doesn’t know anything. And she’s not there.”

The note had two things on it: the words “Lo Duca here. She’s not.” and the image of an eagle atop a boulder.

“Hey, we’ve made progress,” said Dwayne.

Mei gave him a look. “We have?”

“Yes.” Dwayne smiled. “Sorgi probably knows whoever is hiring your brother, and while Delma wasn’t there, we know Sorgi’s sheltering her troupe.” And Sorgi was worried about what Mei might have seen. “What was back there?”

Mei shrugged. “Bricks.”

“Bricks?” Strange. “Anyway, he’s obviously hiding something, and he said something about decay that sounded familiar.”

“Whatever.” Mei started down the street.

“Whatever?” Dwayne caught up to her before she crossed into the Parvenue Quarter. “This is progress.”

“He’s not safe.” Mei’s pace increased. “He’s out there and I am doing nothing!”

“Mei. Mei, stop.” Dwayne grabbed her by the shoulders. “Stop. Just… why are you upset?”

Mei glared at him. “He’s family. Family keeps each other safe.”

“Huan’s also his own person. Didn’t he choose to do this?”

Mei shook his head. “That doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does.”

“I will find him and keep him safe.” Mei went still. “There’s one more place to look.”

Dwayne almost disagreed, but then he recalled who Mei and Senior Scrytive Charlie had fought the night of the Harvest Ball: Huan, Delma Lo Duca, and the Sen Jerome cenobite Kay.

He shook his head. “No, that’s a bad idea.”

“We have to look.”

“They won’t let us in the door even if we ask-”

“Then we don’t ask.” Mei planted her feet. “We go.”

Dwayne winced. “Mei, look, whoa!”

Mei had spun to pin a boy in brown and gray to the wall. “Why are you following us?”

“Mei!”

“I have a message?” The boy squealed. “From Charlie?”

“What is it?”

“‘Orlaith’s dead.’”