“I need to speak with the Captain,” Mouse said in her biggest, bravest, most commanding voice. “It is of a most urgent nature regarding the current investigation.”

The stony-faced guardsman looked back at her, clearly unimpressed.

“I am afraid the Captain is quite occupied at the moment,” he said, looking down at Mouse in a way that somehow made her feel smaller and more unimportant than ever.

“Please,” she said, trying to look past his shoulder and through the grates of the door behind him. “I have information that he needs, information essential to the investigation. I promise you, if you let me speak with him, neither of you will come to regret it.”

The guardsman’s gaze did not falter.

“There are many people who wish to speak with the Captain,” he said, shifting his weight slightly to block Mouse’s view, “but you, like they, will have to wait.”

“I implore you, sir,” Mouse persisted. “A moment of his time is all I require.”

The guard look away from her and did not answer her.

“You cannot understand,” she said desperately. “A most monstrous mistake has been made.”

The guard now returned his attention to her.

“A most monstrous mistake you say?”

Mouse nodded vociferously.

“In that case,” said the guardsman, looking down at her, “you’ll still have to wait.”

Mouse turned away in frustration, huffing as she crossed to the wall just inside the tower entrance and leaning her back against the cool stone.

Why had she not come sooner? she asked herself, turning her face up to the dark stone ceiling and closing her eyes. Why had she insisted on prying further into the matter rather than going directly to the Captain of the guard the moment Lord Alfric had spoken those dread words?

If she had, she thought to herself as she let the jagged stone of the wall press into her back, a punishment for her foolishness, Jasper would still be in the stables, and perhaps it would be Johannes who was locked within the cell awaiting the Empress’s justice.

She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter to try and keep the tears from spilling out, but there was little she could do to stop them.

She had been a fool, a ghastly one, and now it was Jasper who was being made to pay for it.

You are not the jewel of Aros, she told herself remorsefully. You are no more than a stupid little mouse, too afraid of her own shadow to do that which you ought.

The tears rolled down her cheeks one by one as she let her legs fold beneath her, her gown dragging against the ragged wall as she sank to the floor.

She gathered her knees to her chest, burying her face in them so that no one would see her wretchedness.

She sat like that for some time, alternating between rueful rumination and a cold determination to make herself heard, until at last, she heard the sound of a key turning and the grated metal door swinging open.

She looked up, wiping her face with her sleeve, and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw none other than Ulrich himself emerge from the door that let into the tower and the long hallway of cells itself.

She pressed her hands against the wall and pushed herself to her feet at once going to meet the Captain.

“Jasper is innocent,” she said before the door had scarcely had a chance to close behind him. “You must believe me.”

She looked at him with desperate, pleading eyes.

“Please, Ulrich,” she said, her eyes catching the guard at the door before she corrected herself, “Captain.”

Ulrich, his dark blond curls tucked behind his ears, cast a quick glance behind himself, a warning to the guard who stood at the door from which he had just come.

“The only reason he was speaking of the man from Silver Lake,” Mouse continued hurriedly, lest she lose her opportunity, “is because I sent another one of the servants to inquire about him, to inquire about something I heard.” She looked into Ulrich’s face, his somber hazel eyes, begging him to understand. “It is my fault,” she said, “all of it.”

Mouse could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she waited for the Captain to answer. But he only looked down thoughtfully.

“I wouldn’t doubt if Jasper had, in fact, never even heard of the man,” Mouse added, hoping it might somehow strengthen her argument.

At last, Ulrich looked back up at her.

“Why?” he asked.

Mouse looked at him in something of surprise.

“Why?” she echoed.

“What was the purpose of this inquiry?” Ulrich asked, his eyes studying hers.

It took Mouse a moment to answer, still recovering as she was from the shock of the fact that she had actually been heard and was now being taken seriously.

“I had reason to believe that someone within these walls, someone at Kriftel, that is, may have had prior dealings with the man,” she said.

“The boullier from Silver Lake,” Ulrich clarified.

Mouse nodded.

“I had hoped to find whether there might be anything further to substantiate my suspicions, whether anyone else could verify that such dealings had, in fact, occurred.”

The Captain lifted his chin.

“Who?” he asked.

Mouse swallowed.

“Who?” she echoed nervously.

“Who did you believe to have had prior dealing with the man from Silver Lake?” Ulrich asked, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice.

Mouse bit her lip.

Just say it, you fool, she commanded herself. The man may very well want you dead.

“Lord Johannes,” she said with an involuntary shiver, as if just saying the man’s name aloud might summon him.

“Johannes?” the captain asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

Mouse nodded and watched as the Captain gave another quick glance behind himself.

“And what, may I ask, gave rise to these suspicions?” he inquired, his voice slightly lowered.

“It was something Lord Alfric said,” Mouse replied, “a message he had asked me to convey to Johannes regarding a saddler from Silver Lake.”

Ulrich furrowed his brow.

“Alric,” he repeated. “The exiled prince?”

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Mouse nodded. Her heartbeat was finally beginning to slow now that the relief of delivering this intelligence began to replace her former anxiety.

“Do you remember what his words were?” asked the Captain, his brow still knitted together.

Mouse thought for a moment. She could not swear to Alfric’s exact phrasing, but the words he had spoken that day had been burned into her mind such that she felt confident in achieving a close representation.

“He said that he was eager for his saddle back,” Mouse said slowly, “and that Johannes’s man from Silver Lake was overdue.”

Ulrich released a heavy sigh and shook his head.

“That is indeed concerning,” he said, “and I can see why you might have sought to learn more. However, I do wish that you had come to me first.”

So do I, Mouse thought as lowered her eyes, averting the Captain’s steady gaze. It was just as it had been in Silver Lake, she reflected, when she had asked him about whether the girl Elke might come back with them to Kriftel. He had a way of making her feel ashamed of herself, as though she had somehow disappointed his esteem of her.

There were a few moments during which neither of them spoke.

“I will speak with the gentlemen at once,” Ulrich said at last. “But in the meantime, I’m afraid that Jasper must remain in custody."

Mouse made a feeble attempt to smile at this but could not bear to look back at the Captain.

She was glad she had spoken with him, and gladder still that he seemed to be taking her claims as true and treating them with seriousness, but she could not shake the feelings of shame and regret that still clung to her.

But suddenly, she realized there was something that she had wanted to ask the Captain.

“Might I ask who it was that turned Jasper in?” she inquired, her eyes lifting once again to meet Ulrich’s.

But the man shook his head.

“I am afraid that information belongs to the investigation,” he replied grimly, “and as such, it is not something that I can share with you.”

Mouse looked into his face. It was, as Johannes had so aptly described it, beautiful, but sun-warmed as it was, it looked somehow pale and grey in the dim of the tower.

There was something there, Mouse realized as she studied him, something that he was trying to hide, something that he was trying to suppress.

She looked at the long lashes that curled away from his eyes, the irises of which were a mixture of brown and green dotted with flecks of gold. There was so much there that he wasn’t telling her.

“Was it Johannes?” Mouse asked, watching him blink at her as she did.

The Captain set his jaw.

“I truly am not at liberty to say,” he answered.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Mouse asked, the coldness she had initially felt at the notion replaced now by steadily building heat.

There was a charged moment of silence between them that told Mouse everything she needed to know. A scoff escaped from her lips as she realized just how useless her claims against Johannes might be if was indeed he who had brought Jasper to the guard.

“I thank you for your assistance in this investigation,” the Captain said now, breaking Mouse’s gaze. “Please know that you will likely be called upon again to further the clarify or reiterate the statements that you have made to me just now.”

Mouse nodded and looked away.

She knew her frustration with the Captain was misplaced; he was doing no more than his duty, and under different circumstances, she might commend him for his impartiality, but she was wounded, in a way, that he would not tell her what she felt she deserved to know.

“Furthermore,” Ulrich continued, “I advise you to be aware that in course of the forthcoming interviews with the implicated parties, I cannot guarantee that it will not become evident, however unintentionally, that it was you who made testimony against one or both of them.”

“I understand,” said Mouse, unmoved by the Captain’s sudden coldness, “and I willingly accept whatever consequence may precipitate from my actions.”

Mouse could feel Ulrich looking at her, but she was too angry to meet his eye.

“You do not fear retribution from either of these men?” he asked.

Mouse shook her head.

“The worst thing I could imagine has already happened,” she said, staring at a drop of water running through the cracks of the damp stone wall.

It was true. The worst had already happened. She had gotten an innocent man, her friend, incarcerated, and now there was little she could say to undo it. She held her hands behind her back, her fingers flicking agitatedly against one another.

“Well,” sighed Ulrich, “if you should at any point change your mind—”

“I will indeed seek the guard,” Mouse said, the words coming out almost sharper than she had intended them to.

She turned now to look at Ulrich in the hopes of reminding herself that none of this was, in fact, his fault, and was once again met with the feeling that there was much he wished to say but that he would not allow himself.

“If there is nothing further you wish to tell me,” he said at last.

Mouse shook her head, lowering her eyes once again and turning away, returning to the wall where she had been sat before the Captain had appeared.

Ulrich, who had himself turned to go, now turned back and furrowed his brow at her.

“Perhaps it would be best if you return to your chambers,” he said. “It may do you well to rest now in case you are called for questioning later.”

Mouse shook her head as she lowered herself back to the floor in the corner where the outer wall met the inner alcove leading into the tower.

“Thank you, Captain,” she said, making herself comfortable upon the cool stone flags, “but I prefer to remain.” She loosened her skirts underneath her and resettled herself. “I remember what happened the last time a man was locked in the tower under suspicion of attempted assassination of the Empress.”

Even from several feet away, Mouse could feel Ulrich wince at the words, as she herself did upon realizing just how cruel they had sounded. In truth, she had only meant that Jasper was her friend, and more than that, her responsibility. And if anything further were to happen to him, she would never forgive herself.

Nothing she had said had been meant as an attack on the Captain or his ability to carry out his duty, but it had certainly come out that way.

Mouse tried to swallow down the lump in her throat at the realization that she had no doubt just wounded the man, and that given the note their conversation had ended on, he very likely considered it intentional.

But before she could open her lips to apologize, the Captain spoke.

“I’ll send two more men round for the door,” he said, though Mouse could not be sure whether he was speaking to her or the other guardsman, “two for below, and two more for the outer wall.”

And with that, he left.

Mouse hugged her knees to her chest, but this time she did not cry. Instead, she lay her head down atop her knees, her cheek pressed against the woven fabric of her gown, and thought to herself.

She thought of all that had passed since their return from Silver Lake—the Empress’s cruel japes, the old man’s demented ravings, the Council’s endless bickering. She thought of the golden necklace sitting on a blue velvet pillow and the mallow-less stem in the page girl’s hand.

And she thought, for the first time since hearing it, of Johannes’s message to the Empress, that he had a gift for her.

Was Jasper that gift? Mouse found herself wondering. Was the iniquitous nobleman seeking to win back the Empress’s favor by bringing her her enemy’s head?

The only problem was that Jasper was not the Empress's enemy, but she supposed that the woman had no way of knowing that. It was a grotesque thought that sent a chill down Mouse’s spine, but try as she might, she could not seem to banish the idea.

Mouse turned now so that her back was in the corner and her head rested against the side of the wall. She did not want to let the door to the tower out of her sight.

How small and powerless she felt, sitting there in the corner. And for a brief moment, she allowed herself to consider how things might be different if what Ludger had told had, in fact, been true.

She closed her eyes and imagined herself walking into the tower, the guard following behind her, and opening the door to Jasper’s cell, smiling at the thought as a single tear crept out of the corner of her eye. She sniffed it away and tried to imagine what might follow in the wake of Jasper being freed.

But whatever she had imagined after that, she could not recall, for the next thing, she knew, she was standing once again on Kingfishers’ bridge, watching the mighty Manau flow beneath her. She stared down into the blue coursing waters, placing her hands against the ledge as she leaned slightly forward.

She turned and looked to the far end of the bridge where the great stone house with a half-moon painted on the door stood. She watched the smoke rise from the chimney, listening for the sound of a voice coming from within.

Slowly, she began to walk toward it, the smell of smoke tickling her nose as she drew nearer.

But just as it had been the last two times, before she could reach the house, an arrow flew past her head, and she turned to see the dead man standing in the middle of the bridge, aiming his bow at her.

“Time to go,” he said, a nasty grin upon his lips.

“Please, do not hurt me!” Mouse cried. “I am only a mouse!” She reached for her tail to show the man, to prove that she was nothing more than a tiny harmless creature who wanted nothing more than to scurry across the bridge, but once again, she could not seem to find it.

“Time to go,” the man said again, drawing his arm back to loose his arrow as the smell of smoke itched at the inside of Mouse’s nose.

Mouse woke to the feeling of someone nudging her with their foot. She picked up her head and looked up blearily into the face of the guard who stood above her.

“Oi,” the guardsman looked down at Mouse as she rubbed her nose with her sleeve. “Time to go, I said.”

Mouse straightened her neck, despite its painful protestations to even the slightest movement, and slowly pushed herself to her feet. She had no idea how long she had been asleep, but if the stiffness in her legs was any indication, it had been some hours.

“What time is it?” she asked, blinking at the guard. She was so disoriented that she could not even remember what day it was, but she could see that it was a different man than the one who had been there before.

“Time to go,” came the stern reply.

Mouse wrinkled her nose and rubbed at it once again before turning to head down the hallway away from the tower. She had been determined not to leave her post, but she now found that she was too tired and out of sorts to argue with the guardsman.

But before she had gone, she turned back to the guard.

“Do you smell that?” she asked, wondering whether it was still the last remnants of her dream refusing to leave or whether there was really something there.

“What?” he asked unsmilingly.

Mouse sniffed the air before lifting the hem of her gown to her nose to make certain it was not something clinging to her that was causing the odor. But the scent was unmistakably not her own, and thought it was faint, it was quite distinct.

Mouse knitted her brow and looked at the guard, wondering if he really could not detect it.

“It smells like smoke.”