And by some miracle, the building had remained intact. Al still couldn’t detect any odor, even with the heightened sense of smell he got from magic. Nothing.

He should feel grateful, and he was, for the most part. He would continue working at the job he enjoyed. He’d pay his bills, keeping the roof over his family’s head and food on the table. He could even go out with Aggie for a few beers once in awhile. But, a small part of him had hoped the building would have burned down. Not because he hated it at Jindahl and Stohr, but because it would have meant something was going to change.

Al settled on somewhere in the middle, not upset but not totally relieved. He tried to erase his emotions while he worked on his twelve o’clock appointment, Mrs. Falenghast. She was one of his favorite regular clients, an older woman of some moderate wealth. He saw her once every two weeks and she always tipped well.

The room was lit with dozens of candles, creating an ambiance of serenity. He would coat his fingertips in wax in between sessions and snuff out most, relighting several for the new client with an incense stick. The amount and which ones would vary from person to person, more on Al’s whims then any proscribed reason. Mrs. Falenghast, however, always had the large, white pillar lit, the one Burdet had given him four years ago for their second anniversary.

She was seated in a complicated contraption full of knobs and levers designed to get the client in the most comfortable semi-reclined position possible. It resembled a padded, wooden chair with movable parts. Occasionally, Al would pause the treatment and imagine the chair as some sort of torture device, like some he had seen once in a traveling macabre show. It was fitting, seeing as how thin the line between pain and pleasure these sessions could be for not only the client, but Al as well.

He had seen Mrs. Falenghast once every two weeks for years now. His methods never changed and she never missed an appointment. He knew nothing about her, other than she wore heavy powder on her face and neck and she enjoyed sucking on kiic candies. He could smell the spicy-tartness on her breath as she exhaled slowly. “I’m ready,” she said.

Being a Touch wizard involved some deception. Al could easily transfer enough of the Calm to soothe their nerves in five, maybe ten minutes, depending on his client’s disposition. His appointments were booked at fifty-five minutes long. The difference in time was due to the supply and demand. There wasn’t enough of a want for Touch wizard sessions, even in a fairly large city like Whitney, to fill six appointments every hour. Instead, there was an unspoken agreement among businesses like Jindahl and Stohr to extend sessions to almost an hour, charge more, and fill a lot of that time with fluff.

Al disliked the show. It reminded him of the piscarins down at the dock, the people who told fortunes and made potions pretending they were connected with some otherworldly source of power. They were charlatans and thieves. They put on a great show and told people whatever they wanted to hear. Their beloved ones were pleased with them from the afterlife. They’d receive money in the not-too-distant future. A beautiful man, or woman, would fall in love with them soon and sweep them off their feet.

It was hogwash and Al knew it and had been warned about it at Amandorlam. Wizards were true magicians. He and his classmates were encouraged to fight against counterfeits civilly, but frequently and heavily. It helped maintain the posterity of wizardry. Al agreed, and he’d had a few vocal exchanges with the piscarins down at the docks, but he also felt it was a tad hypocritical to call them out for being fakes when wizards like himself often made things up during their treatments. Never mind what the Unease wizards did, tucked away from the public eye.

There wasn’t any way around it, so Al accepted it like so many other things in his life. He double checked to make sure Mrs. Falenghast was comfortable and that the levers were in a tight position. The treatment was performed clothed for decency, but necessity required the client’s shoulders, forearms, and ankles be exposed. Al always began by standing behind the person and placing his hands lightly on their shoulders. He’d tap into the Calm and spread it only to where his fingers touched skin. After a few moments, he’d begin a litany in some made-up language, moving his head from ear to ear until he finished. It didn’t matter what he said, but he preferred to pretend the words meant something. He always said the same thing.

From there, the session involved a series of soothing techniques. He brushed skin with finely toothed combs. He dabbed scented oils in a line on her feet and hands. He wrote fake sigils on her arms with a stylus, the definitions again memorized, but meaningless. All the while he’d touch her skin, creped with age, and infused her with the Calm.

Al finished by running his fingers slowly from her head down to her elbows. She sighed again, the kiic scent long gone. “That was lovely, just lovely, dear,” she said, adjusting her shawl. “I tell all my friends about you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Falenghast. That’s very kind of you.” He wiped the excess powder from her neck off his hands with a handkerchief, then opened the door to let more light into the office.

She adjusted her hair with a practiced hand, tucking a few loose strands into her updo. “I’ll be back soon,” she promised, placing his three silver tip in his hands and smiling kindly.

“And I’ll be here,” he muttered under his breath before giving her a charming smile. He readjusted the seat, then wiped down the leather surface. He was about to leave for lunch when the door opened without a knock.

Al was more than surprised to see Ember Sierra enter. She closed the door behind her and took a seat on a small settee in the corner, smoothing out the skirts of her dress. She favored the maltan fashion from Caiyazet: a dress with a front panel made of cloth with a wild print in yellow, purple, and black. The petticoats were also purple, as was the hat pinned to the elaborate hair style that piled all her hair in curls on her head. The look of a professional woman was complete with a black pince-nez attached to a broach on her lapel. She folded her hands in her lap. “I do think we need to have a little chat, Alpine.”

“It’s just Al. You don’t need to use my full name,” he said.

“No one calls me ‘Emmy’ or ‘Em’. I am Ember, .rd Ember Sierra. I earned that name when I became a wizard, just like you earned yours.”

He returned to wiping down his chair. “Did you come in here to lecture me on wizardly protocol or do you have a point?”

“Why yes, I do, Alpine. I wanted to let you know that I’m aware of what happened yesterday.”

“The mess-up with my bookings? The secretaries apologized, it’s not a big deal.”

“No, no,” she said, laughing. “I’m referring to the occasion when you almost burned down Milxner’s.”

Al froze for a moment, then folded the cloth in thirds. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You mean to say you aren’t cognizant of what ‘you shook the building and knocked over a lamp, then ran away’ means?”

His shoulders slumped. Not only was she calling him out for a mistake, she was calling him out for his cowardice. “I’m sorry. I panicked and didn’t know what to do.”

Ember waved a hand in dismissal. “The roof isn’t dependable. We have several buckets full of water lying around. I don’t expect you’d be privy to that information, since you’re usually over on this side of the building, but Milxner’s employees do. Why is it that you didn’t yell for someone or try to stamp it out yourself? I could have assisted you.”

“I didn’t know you were there or else I would have asked.”

“Hmm, yes. Well, let’s forget about that portion of the event. I came to talk to you about that wild punch you threw.”

“I damaged something?”

Ember gave a tinkling little laugh. “No, the walls are quite sturdy enough. You did reassure me of their integrity. That was quite an impressive show of power.” She rose gently and eyed him up and down. “I’d like to employ you at Milxner’s”

“No.”

“No?” she said, arching an eyebrow. “You reached that decision quickly. I hope you understand that I’m rather picky about who I retain.”

“Then no, thank you,” he said, walking past her and out the door. He didn’t need to think at all about that decision. Working on her side of the building was a slow death sentence, not far in parallels to drinking excessively. He could already see the changes in Aggie, even though he’d only known him for three or four years.

Alpine headed to the break room, looking back to see Ember following him at a leisurely pace. She knew where he was going and there was no need for a lady to rush anywhere. Al sat at his normal table and began eating lunch, starting by hollowing out his loaf of bread so he could place the cheese and vegetables inside once he diced them. He pulled out the sharp knife he kept in his satchel, then eyed Ember, who had entered and was seating herself across from Al.

“I’m not finished,” she said.

“I am. My decision is final. I thank you for the consideration, but I’m not interested. I like my job and things the way they are.”

“I see,” Ember said. “I’m sorry and displeased to hear that. I believe you could make a lot of money working for Milxner’s. You have a wife and a daughter, correct? Think of what you could afford with more wealth. Better clothes, jewelry for your wife, tutors for when your child grows up.”

Al put down his knife. “I know all that. I know I could be making more money in a job that didn’t have me scraping for every coin I got. I don’t want to. I know what it’s like working with the Unease, being a Hard wizard. You guys burn out fast. I’d rather live poor but longer, than rich but shorter.”

“So, you admit you’re a coward, then? Afraid to take risks, live life to the fullest?”

Al frowned. “If that’s what you were looking for then, fine. I’m a coward. I’ll be the first to admit it. I don’t care what you think of me. Happy?”

“No, I’m not happy, Alpine. You’re not acquiescing to my demands. I’m not getting what I desire. I want you to work under me and you are refusing me. Therefore, I will just have to go with an alternative.”

“What? Are you going to ask Jindahl and Stohr to fire me in hopes I’ll be desperate enough to crawl to your side?”

“No, that’s distasteful. I don’t want to be responsible for you and your family being impoverished. I think I have a better idea, one that leaves things in your hands. A choice: do three tasks for me or I will tell our esteemed employers you’ve been holding out on potential wages all these years.”

“That’s not fair. I haven’t been holding out on anything.”

“I feel they wouldn’t see it that way.”

Al sighed and wiped his mouth absently with his hand. “Fine. Let me ask first, what kind of tasks?”

“I don’t know, yet,” she admitted. “Nothing impossible. Nothing untoward or damaging.”

“But since you don’t know, or don’t want to say, I’d be agreeing to potentially anything.”

“Indeed. You could wisely reduce options that would leave you a lesser man. I want you at your peak when you join us, Alpine. And you will join us.” She paused, tapping her lacquered fingernail on her bottom lip. “You and Stalagmite are good friends, yes?”

“Aggie? Yes. We talk and hang out sometimes. Why?”

“I want you to start a bout of fisticuffs with him.”

“You want me to punch Aggie?”

“Yes. By the end of the day. That will be your first task.” She gathered her skirts and stood. “Come see me when you’ve finished.”

Alpine took a bite of his sandwich as he watched Ember leave. Kriskin malor, he swore to himself. He’d punched a wall the day before, but he’d rather do that a million more times than have to fight Aggie.