"What do you think?" Izumi asks when we've regrouped at the Adventurer's Guild tavern.

"Something doesn't add up. The police-demons would have found a body if it was just a murder," I say. "So it had to be at least theft, maybe a kidnapping."

"This will be a cakewalk. She probably got so used to the noble district that she got lost in the marketplace," Mamoru snorts dismissively.

"This will be a cakewalk? Who even says that anymore?" Izumi grumbles.

"Let's split up and look for leads!" I know they're arguing but I don't care. There's real policework to be done. "We'll find out if anyone's seen her."

"Fine by me."

But when Mamoru leaves our table and begins to make his way across the room, I start to feel a little queasy. I can tell he feels it, and Izumi too. We're all covering our mouths now. The farther away he gets from us, the higher the nausea rises.

There's a purple haze around my vision now that I've learned to identify as demon magic. I feel like my heart is an anchor with a rope tied to it.

It's like Mamoru is slogging through mud. Each step looks like it's being taken with great difficulty. Suddenly, he trips face-forward, knocking over nearby chairs. He's dragged back to us, fast and clumsy, as if by unseen hands. As he's yanked back, swearing all the while, I feel a pull in my chest as if he's being reeled in.

Is this the power of the prisoner's anklet?

"Did you feel that?" Izumi asks me, clutching her heart.

"Yeah."

"That was awesome."

"Izumi, I don't think that word means what you think it means."

"Magic! Happening to us! Right now!"

"Magic. Being a pain in the ass. Always." With a worse scowl than usual, Mamoru picks himself up off the ground. "Come with me so we can gather information."

The stir he's caused hasn't gone unnoticed, though. Gossips sling theories back and forth, speaking loudly with no intent to hide their inquisitive attitudes. Some adventurers start to give us a wider berth, slipping into seats an extra table or two away.

"Aren't those the adventurers who got arrested?"

"What are they doing back here?"

"What kind of magic is that?"

We're going to be fighting an uphill battle, but that just makes it more exciting. All good detectives flourish in the face of adversity.

Adventurers. Detectives. Same thing.

"Should we go somewhere else?" I ask, looking around at the crowd. They all seem like carbon copies of each other. "Like a... what did Lord Windwood call them... a bard's club or something?"

"A bard's club?" Mamoru chokes back laughter. "The bard's guild, maybe."

"You'll get the hang of it eventually, Hiyori." Izumi puts a hand on my shoulder reassuringly. "You're starting to figure it out."

"Gee, thanks."

"But that's not a bad idea," Mamoru admits. "They're more likely to know where she'd spend her time."

It's easy to find on the map, and it's not even too far away.

"Don't you feel like maybe we're exploiting him?" I wonder out loud. "He's just a worried father."

"Who else is going to help him? The demons?" Mamoru asks. "He put up the quest for a reason."

"Do you think it's kidnappers? A love affair? Amnesia?" Izumi, predictably, comes up with the least plausible scenario.

Or is it? I'm willing to consider everything. Maybe Occam's Razor doesn't mean anything in a place like this.

"Hey, there it is!" She suddenly points to a dilapidated building sandwiched between two dark alleyways. "Let's go."

Mamoru ties his horse up outside, but we grab our things before going inside. There's an unspoken realization among all of us that we're not expecting to even find the poor beast when we get back out.

Inside, it's terribly different from the Adventurer's Guild. There are several small stages, each with a few chairs next to them, and one bar along the far wall. It's sparsely attended, but the clamor is outrageous as each musician's sound vies for the ear's attention. I notice a staircase, too.

"Adventurers!" a musician – a bard? – calls out from the nearest stage, stopping mid-song to greet us. He carries a small stringed instrument that I don't recognize. "What brings you to our humble abode?"

"Talk with us." Surprisingly, Mamoru is the one to open his mouth first, pulling a gold piece out of his pocket. "Over a nice mug of something."

"You got it, boss," the bard says, bowing for his audience and following us to a table.

"Mamoru."

"Bran," he introduces himself. "A humble name for a humble singer."

He orders ale, but the rest of us are still too young to drink, so we all take some sparkling cider.

"Lilah. Lilah Windwood. Ring any bells?" I'm finally getting the interrogation I want so badly. I'm alive, buzzing with energy. I can smell the alcohol on Bran's breath, but I can't back down now. "We've been tasked with finding her."

Bran raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, more interested in his drink.

"Way to pass up the opportunity for a perfectly good intimidate check," Mamoru grumbles.

In turn, I ignore him and his nonsense.

Izumi takes a sip of her cider. "You know the Windwood family, right?"

"Of course," Bran answers. "Cursed nobles. Lord of the manor is a little odd, likes to hire nonhumans for his staff."

"That's not normal?" I ask.

"You don't get out much either, do you?"

"That isn't the point. I could care less about his staff and a lot more about his family. Like I said, we're looking for his daughter."

"Yeah, she likes to spend time here. But that's all you're getting out of me with an attitude like that." Bran sips his ale with an attitude.

"And an attitude like this?" Mamoru asks, holding another gold coin out.

"See, this guy... This guy speaks my language." Bran's face is already a little flushed as he points to Mamoru.

"When did you last see her? She's gone missing," Mamoru spills the beans, being surprisingly useful. I don't like this turn of events.

"Last week, maybe? She didn't stay long. Met with some—" He stops very suddenly, and very suspiciously. "Some folks. I was too busy playing to hear anything."

"What kind of folks?" I blurt out before anyone else has the chance, grabbing a random coin from my bag and thrusting it at him.

It's a copper piece. Bran has time to regain his composure while he laughs at me. Damn it.

"Folks like what come around to taverns and guilds. Maybe they were adventurers, maybe they were other entertainers. I don't know them, so don't go asking for introductions."

"You have to know something," I insist.

"No, little girl, I really don't."

"Do you remember anything about them?" Izumi asks. I can see in her face that she's trying to ease the tensions between us. "You don't have to introduce us, just point us in the right direction. Is there anything you remember? An instrument they were playing, or any scars, or a guild emblem?"

"Oh, hell." Bran looks over his shoulder. "I liked her a lot, okay? I don't want to see nothing bad happen. So I'll tell you, she met with a couple of regulars from the Thieves' Guild. They haven't come around since, and neither has she."

So there's organized crime in fantasyland, too, huh? Nothing should surprise me at this point. It does bring up a compelling argument for theft, but thieves aren't always killers. And if she was meeting them, maybe she was in on the take.

Why, then, would she go through all the trouble of legally becoming Windwood's daughter? There are still too many holes in the story to determine a proper motive.

When I check back into the conversation, Bran is leaning over and whispering to the rest of the party. "Their symbol is the ouroboros. And you don't find them. They find you."