“It’s not like you to fail, Wesper.”

“Oh, come now, everyone’s got their darkest hour, don’t they?”

Wesper heard his comrade humph over the phone as he twirled his finger around the cord. He had his feet kicked up on his desk, and his chair creaked with each forward and backward sway of his body.

“The empire is already using it as an excuse for war, and they're getting awfully antsy about it.”

“I heard it on the radio today. An entire fleet is ballsy, don’t you think?” Wesper noted, leaning out of the window of his exhibition apartment. “They’re already flying barrage balloons across the city. At least, I think they are. That’s what I heard.”

“I’d much rather you conclude this quickly, whether with your success or failure. If you throw your hands up now, the unit will give up this pursuit. We can avoid this.”

“I'll get it done soon. The Wishbearer got in the way last time, that’s all.”

“If she’s involved in this, then that’s all the more reason to quit while you’re ahead. A job like this isn’t worth the disruption.”

“Oh right, yeah. It’s a little too early for war according to your book, isn’t it?”

“Our book. You’ve got as much stake in this as I do, Wesper.”

Wesper stood up from his chair and picked up the telephone body, swinging it as he paced around the room. “Sure I do, but if an opportunity presents itself, I’ll take it. Who cares who does at it as long as it comes?”

“You speak like there is an opportunity now. If you think the Wishbearer is of any use to us, then you’re only going to get yourself killed.”

A mirror rose from the floor in the centre of Wesper’s office, reflecting an image he could not see. Only a vague, outdated idea of what he presented to the outside world remained. What would it look like? His child self all grown up?

Perhaps the scars were still there, all over his body.

“A day ahead of schedule is a day saved, friend. Don’t take me as someone who would dare waste that.”

He heard his comrade scoff over the phone. “If you're hiding something, I’d rather you tell me now.”

“Nothing, friend. Nothing. I’ll conclude the matter in the next few days; the boy will be handed over to Vesmos.”

“Experimental Weapons never expected things to escalate so far. They’ve given you the permission to kill if capture is deemed unrealistic.”

“Rodger Rodger.”

Wesper heard the phone line cut from the other end and put the receiver down before the operator could get a word in. He placed the telephone on his desk, and the bell clanked as it hit the hardwood. He turned toward the mirror, the blank sheen in the centre of the room. No matter how hard he focused, its gift of reflection remained elusive to his remaining four senses.

This Wishbearer’s famed power remained to be seen. Arguably, it was the only reason he was still alive. Seeing her exert her full capabilities would spell his death; his comrade was more than correct about that.

No, the girl was far more valuable. The power she commanded was just as dangerous but leagues more destructive. Destruction was its very nature. It was what he was looking for, his ulterior motive.

Two birds with one stone was an apt way of describing his plans, but by now, the first had only become the means for the second.

The two nations could go to war that second for all he cared. The end was in sight already.

He heard a timid knock come from the door. The thoughts running around his head had only deafened his senses further. He reopened his mind and the building came to him—every crack, crevice and unannounced visitor. It was the mole, one of his comrades in Geverde’s Council.

With two taps of his left foot, his prized antiques began to sink into the floor and retreat through the walls. The walls swallowed the furniture before sealing together like a child’s block puzzle. The silent shifting abruptly ended, and everything fell into place. Wesper stood in an empty room, save for two half-rotten armchairs.

“Come in,” he called warmly, sinking into the cushion. The Beak creaked the door open, clutching his briefcase like a beggar. He bowed to Wesper, who once again repeated the gesture. “Take a seat.”

“Sir—”

“Please, friend. We are nothing but comrades. What are you here to discuss?”

“I’ve heard from the Council that the asset has moved again, although I can’t be sure where.”

“I assumed that they’d do something along those lines. Not to worry, I’ve made sure that the asset will come to me.”

The Beak nodded slowly, unsure what Wesper meant by his words or even if he wanted to be involved. He spoke up once more.

“The Council is moving predictably to the threats from Vesmos. They’ve moved to bunker down the harbour and mobilise the Navy into defensive positions. Negotiations are taking a turn for the worse, and it seems that dialogue has resorted to accusations and petty threats.”

Wesper nodded. The information was useless besides what he had already figured out himself. Details would come if he asked for them; that was likely what the briefcase was for. But it was no longer worth the effort.

“What of your identity? Have you been made?”

The informant’s eyes shifted left to right, perhaps looking for the non-existent bugs that made him so paranoid. He leaned forward as if whispering was going to do him any good.

“There’s no way to say for certain, but the crackdown is closing in on me. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”

Wesper nodded, pretending to take the information with some level of sincerity and concern.

He was well aware of it ever since he had focused his mind back on the building. Someone from somewhere had been paying too much attention to his dwelling. It was as if two sets of eyes were drilling into the back of his neck.

Only panic would ensue if he told the informant he was being tailed. At worst, it would cause the coward to give himself up and spill his guts. The Beak had already been spotted entering the apartment, but loose ends needed to be cut. Wesper would have to bid the building and his incognito status goodbye if the Beak was never seen leaving.

“Times like these are dangerous. Considering the circumstances, Geverde might be more liberal with their arrests of suspects. Continuing these interactions would be of significant risk to either of us. How about this?”

Wesper stood and brushed off the backside of his trousers. “I have contacts with Vesmos; contacts that would happily treat you like royalty if you give everything up. You’ll stay with them until you are needed once more. How does that sound?”

The informant shook his head. “I’m a Beak; why would they allow that?”

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“You don’t have to live in the country itself, and I have enough leverage to keep you alive. Think of it less as a deal between you and them and one between them and me.”

The Beak only hesitated, and Wesper shrugged. “Right now, it is your only option.”

Slowly, his informant nodded his head, and Wesper smiled.

“I’ll let a Vesmos agent in the city know you’re coming,” he said, reaching into his suit jacket and removing a pen and notebook. He scribbled an address onto it and handed it to the informant.

“Get there tomorrow night, and they’ll handle the rest.”

The informant read the address and nodded, stuffing it into his suit before bidding Wesper farewell. Wesper waved in turn until the door closed completely. His hand dropped to his side, the friendly expression vaporising.

“A lot of birds with very few stones.”

He began to dial another number.

Despite being biologically ten—or thereabouts—with a height and weight to match, Iris proved to be little of a disruption even when on Elvera’s lap. Elvera had invited her in after noticing her considerable vigilance over her work.

The boredom of being unable to work from the office due to security concerns had only been exacerbated by Evalyn’s return without her.

‘A few days extra break after all you’ve gone through,’ was the reasoning. Yet, her perpetual silent suffering had been more of an ordeal on her psyche than any magical loss of agency. She was mad about it, to say the least. But admittedly, Elvera’s work brought some entertainment, and Elliot's weekly return was only a day or two away.

He always seemed fatigued over the phone so late into the week, although Iris doubted he shared the same demeanour with his students. It was something she was allowed to witness, which made her relish it all the more.

Elvera read through document after document, occasionally asking Iris to pin a snippet to a nearby corkboard. She was beginning to struggle to find any space between the feverishly highlighted scraps and scribbled-down thoughts. Elvera worked similarly to Evalyn but on a greater scale and depth. National security was a smidgen more complex than missing pets.

“Jeez.”

“What?”

Elvera held a document up to her face, reading every line twice. “They’re already seeking approval for a Higher Order Armour division in Special Operations. The commission was only published last week.”

“Is it because of the balloons in the sky?”

Elvera hummed with her thoughts, looking out to the office window. The city was not much more than a fingernail’s width, and the barrage balloons were no more noteworthy than grime on glasses.

“Maybe, but all this is really serving as a wake-up call for the Council. Consequence of power escalation, I guess. There’s always going to be a challenger knocking at your doors.”

She put the paper down, grabbed a pen, signed off on any blank space and checked all empty boxes. “Signing this might mean there’ll be those things walking around our city soon,” she said. Her pen hovered over the last blank line of the document. The ballpoint touched the paper, but she did not proceed.

“What’s wrong?”

“…nothing,” she muttered, scribbling her signature and moving on.

The phone rang, and Iris reached out to answer on reflex.

“Ah! Nope. Can’t let them know I’m letting a ten-year-old in on state secrets.”

She picked the phone up and brought it to her face, motioning a zip across her mouth before she began to speak. “Hello, Lieutenant-General Marie Elvera speaking.” Iris realised she was close enough to the receiver to make out the words.

“Ma’am, a counter-intelligence team believes they’ve identified a mole in the Council.”

“How long have they been tracking?”

“Several months now, but they believe their activities started before that. I’m sending through a document now.”

The Magicopy beside them began to grumble like a child with a stomach ache.

“Where does their allegiance lie?”

“It isn’t entirely clear as of yet, ma’am. The residence he frequents isn’t marked as a potential Vesmos hideout at the very least.”

“If it’s owned under the name Recres Wesper, or any company that has anything to do with Workar Help & Labour, you let me know.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Elvera placed the phone down and snatched the papers from the machine. She poured her eyes over them without any concern for their confidentiality.

“Him? Dantel Hargrave, Deputy Minister of…shit. Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs. That guy was in on the meetings with Alis, wasn’t he?”

“Is Alis in trouble again?”

“I don’t know, but if Mr Hargrave knows he’s been made and backs off, it might mean that Alis'll get to rest easy for a little while.”

“What are you going to do?” Iris asked, staring at the identity photograph of the Beak in question. Next to his name was the serial number of his mask, his voice box, and a blot of shifting ink in the shape of a thumbprint. The same shifting pattern that comprised their body.

“It’s not up to me whether a hit happens or not. That’s up to R.I.B.’s director-in-chief.”

“I thought you were the rib boss.”

“I’m the boss’s boss, although people have been trying to change that recently.” She turned back to the matter at hand, straightening the incriminating piece of paper.

“This person almost exposed Evalyn. We shouldn’t tell her about this, all right?”

Evalyn sneezed, the autumn breeze finally getting to her. She stood up from her office chair and closed the nearest window. She took a moment to sweep the city like she was greeting a passing neighbour. Yet no matter how courteous her greeting was, she could not help but stare at the blemishes that were the barrage balloons.

She turned back and leaned on the windowsill, eyeing her desk from another perspective. She was organising a healthy number of cases on it, but she could not find the motivation to continue. She could not, with peace of mind, move on to any other job without her concern for Alis’s situation taking the reins. Even cleaning the entire flat top to bottom had done little to ease her anxiety.

Iris had insisted she return to the office, but Evalyn had vetoed the decision. It was all a brave face or simply that she did not feel the toll on her mind and body yet. It must have been taxing somewhere. Even returning the day after was pushing things.

But Wesper would not wait for Iris; she could be sure of that much.

She pushed herself from the window and wafted over to her desk, picking up the telephone receiver and dialling a number. She waited a few moments until a gruff voice crackled over the line.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Liam.”

“Evalyn? You should’ve called sooner.”

“I wanted to, but things got busy again pretty quickly. How’re things on your end?”

“Ah,” he grunted. “Ain’t the first time I’ve been to so many funerals at once, I guess. I had only spoken to one of them, though. Only briefly. It’s more a formality, being the one to find them like that.”

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t go with you.”

“Don’t mind it, you’ve got Iris to take care of. How is she, by the way?”

Evalyn sighed, recalling the memory. “She was pretty shaken up for the first few weeks back. I’m just glad she fainted before she saw any of the aftermath. I haven’t even asked for the number of casualties.”

“For the best, Evalyn. Things could’ve gone a lot worse without her.”

“Yeah. Where are you right now?”

“I’m staying in an inn for cheap, the manager was a friend of mine back in primary. Known him since we were six.”

“Does it have a view?”

“Oh yeah, lovely view of the headwaters and the valley. Nice change of pace from the plains down where you are.”

“I’ll have to go back soon; take Iris with me.”

“Got to take her to meet Elliot’s parents first.”

Evalyn smiled at the thought. A visit had been overdue for months, and she sorely missed it. A small, medieval village where worries never extended further than the town’s borders. A peaceful fantasy village life with none of the ancient barbarism or modern globalisation.

“Hey, listen," Evalyn started, "you know about the runaway informant, right?”

“Sure. Hard to keep that one out of the papers when the city’s on high alert. I’ve been seeing people arrive in Aerilia by the ferry load. Probably all staying with family until it blows over.”

“Yeah, it turns out that Wesper has some interest in the informant.”

“Wesper? Why would he?”

“I don’t know. He has no reason but said himself it was for a job. Probably from Vesmos.”

“You talked to him?!”

“Briefly, before Iris lost her cool and tore the place to shreds. I can’t talk much about it since it’s technically confidential, but I need you to help me. You know more about Witch and Wizard stuff than I do.”

“You want to know how his Mind Palace works?”

“More specifically, how to kill him. The bodies we see when we enter one of his tethered Mind Palaces aren’t really him. Iris snapped every bone and tendon, and he just disappeared like an illusion.”

“It’s a weird mix between reality and his Mind Palace. People can die in either one, so the mix between the two must be where that line blurs. If he can fake an entire universe, then a copy of himself wouldn’t be so much of a tall order.”

“So I need to either bring him into the real world—”

“Or force him to open his Mind Palace, presuming he’s even in the building he’s controlling. You have the advantage either way, but he’d have more of a fighting chance in the latter. Did you say Iris tore down the building along with his illusion?”

“Yeah, but not by her own volition. It was some magic-busting technique that I’d have a very hard time replicating unless I copy it off her.”

Evalyn slumped back into her chair and threw her head toward the ceiling. “It feels like a lot of things have to go right to make it work.”

Overwhelming force was always an option, but only one that could deter, not outright destroy. Even if she was able to manage the defeat, Iris's wishes marred her path toward victory more than she cared to admit. More guilty conscience on someone who could not even comprehend it yet was not to be Evalyn’s contributions as a mother figure.

She would have to think fast and take what she could get, but mistakes were out of the question.

“I think you can take him, for what it’s worth,” Colte said as Evalyn closed her eyes and relaxed her shoulders. She looked towards Iris’s favourite armchair, the one she had claimed for herself not long after she began to frequent the office. She had taken up a large chunk of space in Evalyn’s life in more ways than one.

“Thanks, Liam. I hope I wasn’t as stressful when I was your student.”

“Student? You were a trainee I never asked for, get over yourself.”