Alden focused on the drain, his soul force drawing the stone down to form a plug so nothing else could slip through. Off to his left Imogen worked at checking all the stalls to make sure there were no other outlets. Alden sighed and finished his shaping. Who’d have thought the city would have to worry about demon raccoons? It sounded like a bad joke.

He glanced over in time to watch Imogen send a bucket clattering across the floor. Getting rescued had turned her bad mood into a terrible one. At least her anger wasn’t directed at him, for the moment.

“I’m done.”

Imogen looked his way. “Me too. There’s no other way in.”

They left the slaughterhouse and crossed the street to the ruined apartments. A little ways down the road a group of residents picked through what remained of the block. They must have just got there as he didn’t remember seeing them when he and Imogen arrived. Alden angled their way.

As they walked he asked, “What’s your problem with Damien anyway? He saved our lives today.”

“Yes, and he didn’t even break a sweat. I had always considered myself strong. Not at the level of the archmage, but still strong. Then I met Damien and saw what strong actually looks like. He does things impossible for anyone else without even trying. And he’s so damn polite. Anyone that powerful should at least be an asshole.”

“So you’d like Damien better if he was weaker or a jerk? You know that sounds insane.”

She managed a weak laugh. “I suppose it does. Since this Connor Blackman business began it’s become clear to me I’m nowhere near as equipped to deal with some of the threats out in the world as I believed I was.”

Alden nodded. “You believed you were closer to Damien’s level and now that he’s shown you what that level is you don’t like him for it. Nothing like getting your illusions shattered to ruin your day.”

“You don’t have to sound so happy about it.”

Alden smiled as they walked up to the residents. “Excuse me. Has anyone seen the linen ladies around?”

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A pudgy woman with puffy eyes and a wattle under her chin raised a hand. “I’m Marsha Owens. I work in the linen room. The others were enjoying a night out with their husbands when the quake hit. They haven’t come home yet.”

“Well, maybe you can help us,” Alden said. “We’re trying to find Carmen Warren. She’s not home or at the castle. Since you work with her we hoped you could tell us where we might find her.”

“I don’t know if I can. Carmen isn’t very friendly. Ever since Master Allen put her in charge she’s gotten pretty full of herself. It didn’t help that she started going with that nice-looking guardsman either.”

“Jonathan Linn?”

“That’s right.”

“Why did Dale put her in charge? She’s quite a bit younger than the other ladies. No offense.”

“None taken. Carmen had a knack for fine stitching. Some of her work caught the queen’s eye. Word is the queen spoke to Master Allen and a couple days later Carmen was in charge. That’s the way it goes with the high and mighty.” Marsha shrugged as if to say, ‘what can you do?’

“What about the guardsman? Did Carmen ever brag about somewhere they went or something they did?”

Marsha glanced at the silently glaring Imogen before looking back at Alden. “She basically claimed they’d done it in every inn in the city. How much truth there was to it I couldn’t say. Are we expected to come in today? My uniform’s buried up there somewhere.” She waved vaguely toward the collapsed building.

“I believe Dale is expecting everyone to come in, but I wouldn’t worry about the uniform. Thanks for your help.”

Alden turned and walked away. That had been a complete waste of time.

They hadn’t gone more than a handful of steps when Marsha said, “Did you talk to Jonathan’s best friend yet? Tommy’s a good boy, he could probably help you.”

Alden turned back towards her. “Tommy?”

Marsha nodded. “Tommy Jacobs, he lives in the neighborhood. He was digging out his uncle’s place over on Pullet Street.” She pointed up the street toward the wall.

“Much obliged, Mrs. Owens.”

Alden and Imogen quickstepped it down the street. Pullet Street was marked with a sign shaped like a chicken. Fifty feet down the way five men were busy pulling boards out of a pile that used to be a building.

“Tommy Jacobs?” Alden asked.

A young man in his mid-twenties looked up. The moment he saw Alden and Imogen he went rigid at attention. He clapped his fist to his chest. The rest of the workers had stopped and were staring at him.

“At your service, Legionnaires,” Tommy said.

Alden grinned. Every once in a while you came across a guardsman that still held the legion in awe. “We’re looking for Carmen Warren. Mrs. Owens thought you could help.”

“Sure, Jonny’s girl. One of them anyway.”

“One of them?” Imogen’s voice held its usual edge.

Tommy nodded. “Jonny has three or four at a time as a rule. Carmen’s his current favorite though. She’s the first to last more than a month. Assuming it hasn’t collapsed, you can probably find them at Jonny’s love nest over at the White Stag.”

“My thanks, Guardsman,” Alden said.

The young man bowed. “An honor to be of service.”