Music filled the common room. Crystalline voices rose above the raucous noise of the crowd, clear as spring water. Two elendars, on a small stage off in the corner, swayed as they both sang for the crowd, graceful bodies dressed in their traditional Beril garments, long hair adorned with bells and clinking pearls. Another was further back, fingering an elend string instrument and adding his voice when the chorus demanded it.

Verti had arranged for a booth in one of the less crowded parts of the great room. She had sent one of her daughters to guide them through the throng of adventurers and regular workers. The rooms of the Meadow were expensive, but the food and drink catered to the size of many money pouches.

Tallah’s vision flashed red and a headache burst behind her eyes at first sight of the woman waiting. She missed a step and stumbled, but waved Sil back from helping.

The curtain to the booth was drawn aside and the visitor watched the elend males performing, a mug of ale seemingly forgotten on the edge of the table.

That is Rumi Belli, Tallah! Bianca’s panic caught her by surprise. Do not even think about infusing yourself. Do not draw in illum. Whatever you do, control your temper.

Who?

The woman was human, ashen-haired and green-eyed, with a slightly pinched face. Couldn’t have been older than thirty Summers. Looked almost like a young Empress Catharina to Tallah’s eyes.

She rose when she caught sight of them approaching. There was, in that simple motion, the impression of a cat unsheathing its claws. She greeted them with a lopsided grin. Her head only reached up to Tallah’s chin, but her eyes locked onto hers with a predator’s insistence.

“Good evening, Lady Aieni,” she said and stuck out her hand. No curtsy. No sign of subservience. She spared no attention for Sil. “I hate to cause a stir, but this would have all been done so much neater if your host had just cooperated with me.”

Tallah looked at the outstretched hand. Callouses and white crisscrossing scars marred the exposed sun-kissed skin. Bianca’s voice had fallen into small, terrified whispers.

Take her hand, Tallah. Just take it. Do not insult her.

“You offer your hand in greeting, know who I am, yet do not present yourself? I thought the Storm Guards of Valen were trained and educated in Aztroa Magnor, by the best teachers of Court. Perhaps I have been misled?”

She stared the woman down, refusing to take the proffered hand. Not all Storm Guards were actually trained in the Empire’s capital, and most were barely educated at all, but that’s the kind of story that would travel all the way into Calabran.

Tallah… Bianca whined.

Nothing showed in those green eye except growing amusement. Heartbeats passed in terse silence. Finally, the other pulled her hand away and inclined her head. She never stopped smiling.

“My apologies, Lady Aieni. I forget my manners when among the rabble. My name is Rumi Belli. I am a special liaison from Aztroa Magnor to the Valen garrison of our force.” She looked back to Tallah and something eased in her expression, but that mischievous glint in her eyes only grew brighter. That, more than Bianca’s whimpering, set Tallah’s teeth on edge.

“May I ask you to sit with me? I only wish to discuss your recent expedition. It is of some interest to us.”

Better, but her manner irked. Tallah had the distinct and unpleasant sensation of being called into a spider’s parlour. Worse yet, she had already walked in only to find the exit blocked by the type of polite request that can’t be ignored.

She sat down opposite the woman and Sil waited by her side, hands clasped demurely at her front. Belli still hadn’t acknowledged her.

“Do you normally call on adventurers while out of uniform, at their place of residence?”

Rumi wore dark blue trousers and a loose tunic over a long-sleeved undershirt, a simple cut yet excellently tailored. A cloak of similar colour hung on a peg by the booth. She sat sideways on the narrow bench and crossed her legs, face turned to the performers.

It took a moment for her reply.

“As a rule, no.”

“Then why are you here, Miss Belli?”

Again a long pause.

“I enjoy seeing elendars performing. They’re so rare and precious.” She smiled wistfully before turning her attention to them.

What a crock of nonsense. Elendars were a common sight in Aztroa Magnor. If anything, outside of their own homeland of Beril, the Empire’s capital had the most of them applying their arts. Not that Tianna would know of such things, all the way in Calabran.

“I want to ask you about the maps you’ve sold to Lucian about a fortnight ago.” She put her hands on the table, one over the other, drumming her fingers on the lacquered wood. Her nails clinked on the polished surface in an uneven rhythm.

Sil stiffened.

“You should know,” Rumi went on, “that Lucian’s assurances of confidentiality go right out the window when it’s us who do the asking. Do not hold it against him. I can be very convincing when we seek to learn something.” Her smile turned nasty for a moment, then returned to its earnestness. Her nails still lightly tapped on the wood as if trying to dislodge some particle of invisible dirt. It was starting to annoy Tallah.

“Miss Belli, get to your point, if you please. So far, you are wasting time I would rather spend elsewhere.” She swept a hand across the tavern’s packed interior. “Pedestrian performances put on for sweaty commoners are not my idea of a pleasant evening.”

The taps stopped for a moment and gave Tallah the satisfaction of finding a chink in the Rumi Belli character. She could play the game as well as any Aztroa-trained pissant. She leaned back and offered her own most insincere smile.

“I sell what I no longer need. I am happy it was of some use to you, if that is the case, but there is nothing else to add aside from what I already handed to that unpleasant little man at the Guild.”

“Did you kill the ratmen?” The question came sharp, like a sting from behind the smile. “That is a great subject for debate in our cell. I thought I’d best hear it from the horse’s mouth.”

“What ratmen?”

Do not play games with her, Tallah. She can see through games. She can see through you. Just answer her questions so she leaves. Please.

Shush, Bianca. Christina intervened for the first time, annoyed. Tallah knows her business. You are distracting.

She’d need to talk to Bianca once the entire farce was finished. Backing away from veiled threats and intimidation ran counter to everything a pyromancer stood for, especially when one had Tianna’s high-stationed lineage. Bianca, given her circumstances, only knew how to bow and scrape before what she considered her betters.

Tallah had met and worked alongside mind-skinners before. This one hid it well but there was no mistaking the eyes of a torturer nor the way they searched and prodded and dug for that one gap where they could inject their venom. If she inhaled deep enough she’d gag on the stench of blood.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

She almost felt bad for whatever Lucian had been put through on their behalf.

“The ones you mentioned in your document, where your maps end. You mention wiping out an entire nest of the creatures. Don’t misunderstand, it is a laudable feat in itself, but I would like your confirmation.”

“I only purged some vermin. The tunnels are lousy with them.” She smiled. Rumi smiled. Silence stretched out between them.

“You also mentioned two victims found there, an aelir’rei and a human male. Both dead of their wounds.”

Tallah closed her eyes and pretended to find the memory repulsive.

“I remember. They were a big reason of why we decided to end our exploration. Terrible sight.”

“Where is the man’s body, Lady Aieni? We found the aelir, but not the human.”

They went searching the caves. Why? She remembered Sil’s words from Lucian, of the interest the Guard had in the old shaman, but even so…

“I assume it rots where it lies. How would I know?” She shrugged without much conviction. “Perhaps some other creature dragged it off to crush its bones for the marrow.”

That sounded like a poor answer even to her ears.

“Mistress?” Sil spoke up for the first time and four eyes turned to her.

“Anything to add, Silestra?”

Sil smiled apologetically and did not meet either of their gazes.

“We did not kill all the ratmen, if you remember,” she went on. “We retreated when your first gambit did not… well… work out. We aimed to save the man in there but failed.” She worked very hard at seeming embarrassed for divulging what her mistress had not. “We ran from the shaman and the other beasts aiding it until you collapsed a side tunnel on it. We assumed it dead. There was blood and…” Her voice trailed off, her cheeks turning bright red for the indiscretion.

Rumi’s interest devoured every word and she gave Tallah a side glance.

“Thank you, lady healer. That does put some things in proper light.” She turned to Tallah and tapped the side of her nose conspiratorially. “That shaman is very dead, if you’d care to know, but not crushed under a rock. You owe Lucian an apology for deceit.”

That was poor bait and did not deserve consideration beyond an offended glare.

Rumi turned back to the two elendars, face slightly pensive, finger tapping on her chin. They played a slow, haunting melody, and sang in their old, odd language. She watched for a while, distracted away from the conversation.

Tallah glanced up at Sil, but the healer knew her part too well to look back. She kept the blush on and her eyes staring right down at her boots. Quick thinking had taken the edge off the conversation when she had floundered. The Storm Guard did not police the tunnels, given up as a lost cause for decades. Them going down there themselves had caught her off-guard.

“You should not go alone into the tunnels again,” Rumi said after a while, voice low. “We’ve had many reports of people going missing in the Ruffle. Mostly common folk but there have been some adventurers of repute disappearing. You were in great danger, Lady Aieni, and you had no idea.” Mischief glinted in her eyes when she turned back to Tallah. “It would be a shame for a pyromancer as promising as yourself to end up someone’s plaything in the dark.”

She downed her drink, now likely gone stale, and placed a coin next to the empty mug.

“In due honesty, I came to meet and warn you. Some of my superiors were interested in you for a time, and now I am too. It would be such a shame if something were to happen to you now, Lady Aieni. You are quite the promising pyromancer if I’m any judge.”

“I doubt I will be heading into those horrid places again any time soon,” Tallah said, almost eager to move away from the subject. “Winter is here and my curiosity is sated. I find cartography boring and exhausting, thus I plan on devoting myself to other pursuits.”

Rumi kept bloody smiling. The horrid gash of her wide mouth seemed plastered to her face, and only a chisel and hammer were likely to budge it.

“I haven’t delivered my warning yet.” She leaned forward, over the table, and spoke in a whisper. “I’m convinced that you realise why asking after certain people can be… unwise. Some of my superiors certainly think so. If you insist to know more, we can have a private chat, you and I. Though I can’t promise the setting would be quite as pedestrian as this one.”

She took out a pair of gloves from an inside pocket of her cloak, and slid the left one on. It was armoured across the knuckles, and blood spatter marred the fur lining. Tallah was certain she had been allowed to see, as clear a warning as any of the evening.

The nerve! Fire ignited in the pit of her stomach and clawed itself up into her chest, pain and all. She fought to restrain herself from grabbing the woman and slamming her face into the table. Tears welled up in her eyes from the shock of the sudden infusion.

No, Tallah. She is Egia. She can see the weave. We are almost rid of her.

That got a grip on her growing rage, enough that she reeled herself in with a sharp breath. Her eye twitched. By Rumi’s expression, she had completely misunderstood the effect of her words.

A large man moved through the crowd, parting it as a dray hound would scatter a herd of goats. He towered over most of the people there and was wider of shoulder than the largest of Verti’s hired muscles.

Tallah knew him, as did most others in the room. Barlo. The Miscreant. Part of Prince Falor’s own inner circle and a bruiser like few others in the Empire. Mage killer. He was also dressed as a civilian but people moved out of his way regardless as he came up to their booth. Sil drew back from him when he filled the entrance.

“We done here, speck?” he asked Rumi. So, he was her insurance in case the conversation turned violent. Tallah was certain he was heavily armed, even if she couldn’t spot any weapon on his excessively-broad person.

Rumi donned her cloak and fastened it, then stuck out her naked hand to Tallah.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Lady Aieni. I do hope I haven’t made too poor of a first impression.”

This time Tallah did clasp her hand. She still fought to push the fury down. The handshake was firm but just as frigid as the woman’s eyes.

Tallah mirrored the other’s grin and spoke through nearly clenched teeth, “First impressions can always be mended, Miss Belli. Thank you for your concern, and for your warning.” She squeezed the hand tighter. “I take them both to heart.”

Rumi had to wrench her fingers away, the grin now strained on her face.

“What was that about?” Sil asked as the two Storm Guards moved out into the cold. She sat on the newly freed space and gestured for a coffee to one of the servers.

Tallah sighed and collapsed back on her cushioned seat. Her hand trembled as she shook off the cold feeling.

“Bianca says that was an Egia, but I doubt she’s one of your School’s lot. It’s a good thing I’m as messed up as I am right now and can’t infuse myself properly. She wanted to see if I could have done what we wrote I did.”

“But why?”

“Because they found Anna’s Sanctum and can’t be certain if we were involved. We left a bloody good trail to follow in there. Why they care, I couldn’t say.” She shrugged and gave a long sigh. “Quick thinking on your part. Saved my blunder.”

Sil cursed under her breath.

“There weren’t any queries related to your friend. I checked. I spent all Thaw making sure we weren’t getting in the Guild’s way on this.”

Tallah took Sil’s coffee as the serving girl put it down.

“I don’t know. For now, you get your wish. We’re going to be eating sugary confections until we’re both sick, and then go frighten some shop keepers.”

“Aren’t you in the least worried? That was the closest we’ve been to the Guard since… you know, the whole Hearth incident.”

Oh look, Bianca, Adana is as witless as you in such matters. I hope you are very proud of her. Christina’s mockery got a smile out of Tallah. Bianca sulked in silence in the back of her mind, emanating a feeling of intense relief now that the mind-skinner was gone.

Christina’s insult was dulled by the reality of the fact. Sil and Bianca were both of common stock originally and hadn’t been brought up to recognise the usual games and veiled threats of the gentry. Tallah had grown up among false smiles and sharpened tongues.

Tianna, had she survived the storm, would have inherited a veritable armada of trade ships and enough money to wholesale buy half of Valen. Without Prince Falor himself calling for her head, she was untouchable.

She imitated Rumi Belli’s infuriating smile and spoke with the same sticky sweet affectation that the mind-skinner used.

“Why would I be worried, Miss Silestra? I’m an innocent pyromancer that has been warned away from danger, out of pure, sweet kindness. Why would that disrupt my life in the least?”

She knocked back the coffee and grimaced at the sweetness. Verti’s girls knew Sil’s sweet tooth and prepared her drinks accordingly. This had been more sugar than coffee.

“What did you think about for that blush? That was a work of art.”

“For me to know, and for you to mind your own business.”