She entered a small clearing and came upon a pile of scat larger than her boots. Curious, she snapped a twig off a nearby tree and knelt to dig into it, finding seeds and nutshells though the smell told her that the animal was omnivorous. Standing up, she searched the ground around the scat and found a massive paw print from left back foot with five clawed toes. It was two thumbs deep.

Mei grinned. This was the track of a full-grown grimbear. Ever since she was a child, her father had told her stories of hunting them in the Tuqu’s Southern wilds, and now she had a chance to track one down herself. As she followed the tracks to bush to half-eaten bush to gutted animal carcass, she guessed that her quarry didn’t bother to search for food, and if so, she could get ahead of it easy. Picking up her pace, Mei blazed a new path that curved away from her quarry’s, hoping to reach a spot in front of it that would allow her to observe the bear at a distance and not just chase it. Soon she found a bunch of berry bushes unmolested by bear lips and smiled. This was the chance of a lifetime. All she was grab a snack, climb a tree, and wait.

As far as Mei could see, the forests in Soura weren’t very different from the ones that she’d played and trapped and hunted in back home. Both had the same trees and both filled with the chorus of bird calls and the whispers of the wind through the trees. Already, she felt herself relaxing. Today, her plan was to just track, since she and her brother Huan had more than enough money to buy food back in Anders. With any luck, her hunting knife would stay sheathed and her rifle, which was loaded with her last bullet, would stay strapped to her back. Best to save her last shot for emergencies.

Below her, a stick snapped.

Mei tensed. That had been too quiet to be the grimbear, who weren’t known to be light-footed animals. Leaning forward, Mei pulled her rifle out of its case, slowed her breath, and listened as the same sounds - creaking branches, bird calls, whispering leaves - became suspect. There was a soft smoosh as something sank into a pile of dead and dying leaves. Too heavy for a small animal, too light for a bear, too cautious for the large antlered creatures that wandered these words. It was a person. Mei’s grip on her rifle tightened. They were trying to sneak up on her tree. It didn’t sound like they knew she knew though. She just had to keep track of where the footfalls fell.

Smoosh.

Smoosh.

Crunch.

What was that? Mei shifted around around her tree and searched the ground, but the interloper was gone. She could still see the footprints, including a strange two footed one like they’d just jumped straight up, but where? It wasn’t possible for-

The tree next to hers shook as something landed in it, and Mei had her rifle trained on it before her eyes registered that the interloper was wearing a red and black mask with the chubby cheeks and long ears of a rabbit. The end of her rifle dropped. That was Rabbit of the ShengXiao Guard. They’d been found by the ShengXiao Guard. Quickly Mei pulled her rifle back up, but Rabbit leapt down into the thicket and dashed away before she could fire. With the bad line of sight, Mei couldn’t risk her only shot. She’d have to pursue. She clambered down the tree and followed Rabbit through the brush. Luckily she was faster on her feet, but not fast enough to line up a clean shot. If she didn’t catch Rabbit now, then Mei wouldn’t be able to warn Huan. She kept up the chase, jumping over fallen logs and pushing through bushes until Rabbit led her to a meadow and stopped putting both hands up.

Mei took aim at Rabbit’s head and paused. It was an easy shot, only a few wir, and Rabbit wasn’t moving, but all the Guard had was a small bag at their hip and the clothes on their back. A moment ago, it had been easy to decide to shoot Rabbit, but this felt like an execution. Still, she had to do it or Huan would be in danger. That mask he’d stolen made him a target.

Mei was still trying to convince herself to pull the trigger when something crashed through the forest to the left. A full grown grimbear, a burly gray-furred animal with a bone plate on its face, ripped through the forest and entered the meadow. Rabbit had led her here, back into the grimbear’s path. Hurriedly, Mei let her rifle drop, not wanting to make any loud noises that would anger the grimbear. Hopefully, Rabbit would back down.

Something hit Mei’s foot and burst, filling her nose with a foul scent. Rabbit had thrown the bag at Mei and then scampered into the forest. It seemed like a kid’s prank, stupid to do in front of the grimbear, but it was just annoying. At least it hadn’t made a noise so the grimbear wasn’t spooked.

A low growl cut through the air. There hadn’t been any noise, but all of the grimbear’s attention was on Mei. Mei sniffed again and realized what Rabbit had hit her with. Urine, and judging by the growls, grimbear urine. Already the grimbear was approaching her, its beady eyes narrowed, its yellowed teeth bared. If all had gone as planned, Mei would have been in awe of how right his stories had been. Twice the height of a house and almost as wide with a white bone face plate too thick for an arrow to penetrate, this grimbear was a majestic animal, one that Mei would have been happy to watch eat berries and rummage through corpses. Instead, it was charging her.

Running wasn’t an option and neither was hiding. That left one choice.

Mei’s rifle came up and she took aim at the grimbear’s forehead. The animal was already only five wirs away from her and picking up speed, its beady eyes wide with rage. The problem was that skull plate. It was clearly thick and while her rifle had better penetrative power than a bow and arrow, but she’d never hunted grimbear before and if her one and only shot didn’t take it down, she’d be torn apart. So, she waited.

At four wirs, the grimbear’s footfalls shook the ground beneath her feet.

At three wirs, it became a hill of fur, muscle, and teeth, rushing towards her.

At two wirs, Mei could see the whites of its eyes were and smell its grey summer coat.

At one wir, the grimbear opened wide and roared fury and Mei fired.

The grimbear’s head snapped back, and its momentum carried it past her and into a tree, cracking the trunk. As it crumpled to the ground, Mei put away her rifle, drew her knife, and approached her quarry. The grimbear’s eyes were wild, unable to focus, and its breathing grew more and more labored by the second. Mei had shot down its throat, hitting the back part of its brain, a cruel shot that left the bear in anguish as it died slowly, but without knowing where the bear’s heart was or the confidence that her rifle could penetrate that skull plate, it had been the only sure way. She could only hope her failure to shoot Rabbit didn’t force her down a similar path.

Mei knelt next to the bear and placed her the edge of her knife along its neck. “I’m sorry.”

***

Ignoring the sounds of Anders’s market day trickling in through the open window, Magdala dipped her quill into an ink bottle, wiped excess ink off its tip, and positioned it over a blank piece of parchment. It hovered there for one long moment, then she put it back on its stand and sat back with a sigh.

That had been Magdala’s fifth attempt to write a letter to her mother and, sadly, the furthest she’d gotten since she’d returned from Yulan’s Pass with her lord uncle’s party three weeks ago. It shouldn’t be this hard. All she had to do was write a letter detailing the bandit ambush, her lord uncle’s hiring of actual mercenaries, and a successful venture involving capturing juvenile dragon, using it to lure a mature dragon into a trap in order to get a few scales and some claw shavings. Surely, her mother would read that letter and not travel all the way out to Anders and personally drag her daughter and brother all the way back to Bradford by their ears.

With a thunk, Magdala’s forehead hit her desk, crinkling the parchment. The worst part was that she had no idea what would happen when her mother found out about her lord uncle’s apprentice Dwayne. For a Souran mages particularly those blessed with a noble title, apprenticeships were either precursor to marriage or adoption, not the product of mere whim. Yes, Dwayne was smart and yes, he was remarkably able to manage her lord uncle, but that wasn’t a strong enough reason on its own. It didn’t help that there was a certain other issue.

Three hard knocks at the door broke Magdala’s concentration. “Magdala? Are you decent?”

Magdala’s face heated, and she hurried to make sure that she was actually decent, clipping her hair with the aluminum plated hair clip her father had sent her and making sure that her dress was smooth. “Yes. Come in.”

A tall boy with closely curled black hair and dark brown skin pushed open the door with his hip and strolled in. Ah, the certain other issue was that Dwayne was undeniably Wesen.

Magdala noticed the stack of envelopes he held in his hand and bolted to her feet. “Any word from Mother?”

“No, nothing.” Dwayne rifled through the envelopes. “Mostly overdue library book notices and letters from Lord Kalan’s rivals.” He tossed them all onto his bed without opening any of them. “They’ll say the usual.”

“So, you won’t even bother to read them?” Magdala wasn’t sure if she’d get used to rooming with Dwayne. He always left when she asked and never peeked, but it still felt… close. “Maybe they’ll have something that you missed in your ‘universal’ magic theory.”

Sighing, Dwayne sat down on his bed, and select up a sky blue envelope. He checked the wax seal. “This is from Lord Hobstock who believes that diet powers magical abilities. He’ll cite the evidence that the most powerful mages have always been well fed.”

Dropping that envelope, Dwayne selected a butter yellow envelope. “The Duchess of Hamms proclaim that magic is ‘simply a mystery’ and that we’re wasting our time investigating. I think she’s a member of a Church of Cueller order who frown on any kind of magic.”

He picked up a pink envelope. “Professor Corns, who switches between declaring that magic must derive from emittance and asking about Lady Pol and her whereabouts. It’s both annoying and sad.”

Magdala swallowed her laughter at this description. Professor Corns was a tenured professor at the Magisterium and an experienced user of Earth Qe, whose students considered a hack.

Dwayne picked up the last envelope, a plain purple one, frowned at its seal, and put it back down. “All of them just want Lord Kalan to stop questioning dogma, so they can enjoy their perch atop the academic world in peace.”

Magdala raised her eyebrows. “My lord uncle’s words?”

“I paraphrased for politeness’s sake.”

“What about this one?” Magdala reached over and plucked the purple envelope out off the pile. She inspected the seal. “This is from Lady Luisa Pol! She’s writing to my lord uncle? She’s got loads more cred than him. Seriously, I heard that she can create lightning with wind magic.”

Dwayne winced. “Lord Kalan calls her ‘that woman’ when he’s sober. I won’t share what he says when he’s drunk.”

Magdala rolled her eyes. “I’ve read his essays. She’s a far more compelling writer.”

Dwayne shrugged. “Too bad her theories only backed up by hearsay and children’s stories.”

“No, they’re backed by history, which is something people understand unlike my lord uncle’s lectures on magical resonance.” Magdala tore open the envelope and scanned the letter. “She’s usually pretty insightful. My father says her essay on Vanuria gave him ideas on how to handle the Southern border.” Her eyes bulged.

Dwayne blinked. “Lady Pol’s prose and penmanship isn’t that good. Very useful for study sure, but-”

“This is an invitation. To help with a dig.”

“What?” Dwayne snatched the letter out of Magdala’s hand. He read it. His eyebrows raised. “What’s in Yumma?”

Magdala gaped at him. “Yumma was the capital city of the Yaniti empire, the largest empire to have ever existed.”

“And?”

“And they had amazing magic! They created an irrigation system that ran all the way from here to northern Wesen, thousands of miles away. It’s all just ruins now, but it had to have been awesome.”

Dwayne reread the letter. “Where is it?”

“In the Great Desert.”

Dwayne mulled over that. “Are you talking about the City of Souls?”

Magdala grimaced. “Why would you call it that?”

“Because it’s haunted?”

“No, it’s not. It’s just a ruin.”

“A empty city in the middle of the desert sounds haunted. Anyway,” Dwayne’s hand disappeared behind his back with Lady Pol’s letter, “there’s no way Lord Kalan will ever accept this invitation, new magic or no.”

Magdala sagged. “And my mother would never approve of a trip out into the middle of the desert.” She smiled weakly. “I am supposed to be studying after all.”

“On the other hand,” Dwayne leaned in, “seeing those canals firsthand would give us some ideas on the limits of Qe magic.”

Magdala shook her head. “They couldn’t have used Qe magic to build them. Those canals are too precise and the amount of water pushed them them would burn out a thousand mages.” Magdala’s eyes slid to the blank piece of parchment. “Still, considering the amount of focus it would take to get water across the desert over such long distances, it may be worth looking into...”

“Shoot, I have to go.” Dwayne stuffed the letter back into its enveloped and got to his feet. “Lord Kalan needs me to run through the experiment again.”

Magdala nodded. “You know what? I need a break too.” Her letter to her mother could wait. “I’ll walk you down.”

***

With his master’s niece trailing behind him, Dwayne entered the small yard behind the inn, where a table had been set with dozens of varicolored vials. When Dwayne and Magdala approached, Lord Kalan looked up from inspecting the vials and frowned. “What were you doing?” His eyes dropped to the purple envelope in Dwayne’s hand. “And what’s that?”

“Nothing.” Dwayne stuffed the envelope into his pocket. “What are we starting with today?”

“These.” Lord Kalan selected three vials and handed them to Dwayne. Each one was a suspension of shaved dragon scales in different liquid bases.

Magdala peered at her handiwork. “The bluecut mushroom, lebelweed, and kui sap?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Lord uncle, you have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

“These materials,” Lord Kalan glared at his niece, “are all known to have limited magical properties even in their processed state.”

Magdala frowned. “I thought you said that any magic in the suspending fluid may inhibit the-”

“Well, of course, a non-magical base didn’t work. There was nothing to carry to resonance. This should work.”

Magdala rolled her eyes. “If you say so.”

“Now, stand over there.” As Magdala went over to stand next to the table, Lord Kalan cleared his throat. “Now, Dwayne, recite what you’ve learned.”

“The core of Qe magic is imagination.” Dwayne had found memorizing this part easy. Too bad the next step wasn’t. “I must focus my magic, imagine the result and then speak the word.”

Lord Kalan nodded. “Excellent. Then let’s start with the kui sap. I have a good feeling about it.” He handed Dwayne a strip of cloth and stepped back.

After he placed the other vials back on the table, Dwayne held up the vial of shaved dragon scale and tree sap and pressed it against the cloth. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the part of himself that burned when he used magic and then imagined the cloth becoming as stiff as dragon hide. “Qesuyit!”

Hearing the words from his own lips sent a shiver up Dwayne’s spine, and he felt the ground shift under his feet, but the cloth remained limp.

“Hmm.” Lord Kalan took both vial and the cloth from Dwayne. “Qesuyit!” The vial flashed white, and the cloth stiffened. “Qeit.” The cloth went limp. “Disappointing.” Lord Kalan made a quick note in his journal. “Let’s move on to the next one, the lebelweed. Here.” He held out the cloth, his eyes still on his journal.

As he took the cloth from Lord Kalan, Dwayne felt a familiar tension behind his eyes. This was going like last time. “Okay.” He picked up the next vial and pressed it against the cloth and went through the same process. Focus. Imagine. “Qesuyit!”

Dwayne’s knees turned to jelly, and he used the table to stay standing. The cloth was limp.

“What’s it doing to him?” asked Magdala.

“Believe or not this is a result.” Lord Kalan checked the cloth and made another note. “The nonmagical suspensions did nothing. Next, the bluecut mushroom.”

Magdala gave the vials a sidelong look. “Are you going in order of magical potency?”

“And cost.” Dwayne’s knees finally felt normal again. “These ingredients are the easiest to get.” He picked up the third and last vial. Maybe he had the wrong image in his mind. If he tried to think like a dragon, maybe it would work. Unfortunately that was guesswork, but he had nothing. Once again, he pressed the cloth to the vial and closed his eyes. Focus. Don’t imagine the cloth becoming dragon hide. Imagine it turning away the sharpest sword. “Qesuyit!”

Dwayne’s magic rebelled and cut his legs out from under him, and he woke up with his cheek pressed against the dusty yard, the taste of blood in his mouth, and yelling in his ears.

“Dwayne, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

“Give me that potion.” Hands rolled Dwayne over, propped him up. “Drink.” Dwayne’s mouth was forced open, his head tilted back, and something cool and sweet poured down his throat, sweeping away Dwayne’s nausea and calming his magic.

Swallowing, Dwayne opened his eyes. Both Lord Kalan and Magdala were leaning over him, concern creasing their faces, though something strangely sad expression on Lord Kalan’s. Dwayne sat up. “Did it work?”

His master showed Dwayne the limp cloth. “No.” He got to his feet, knocking dust off his robes, his eyes elsewhere. “We’ll have to try again.”

“Why?” Magdala glared at her lord uncle. “It’s clearly making him ill.”

“It won’t kill me.” Dwayne rolled to his feet, a move that turned his stomach. He didn’t think anyone saw. “Just give me a few minutes, and I’ll be ready to go again.”

Magdala’s eyes narrowed. “This can’t be good for you.”

“We are making progress, young lady.” Lord Kalan collected the fallen vial and placed it on the table. “That said it looks like we’ll need to leave it here for today. I, uh, have to look through my books. Excuse me.” He shuffled out of the yard.

When his master was out of sight, Dwayne found a bench and plopped down on it as he gulp air to stave off the nausea. Yes, the potion they’d given him had taken away his usual post-casting failure headache and steadied his magic, but it had done nothing for his shame.

“You should stop.”

Dwayne’s eyes snapped to Magdala, who had her arms crossed. “What?”

“What you’re doing is dangerous.” Magdala tapped the vial of bluecut mushroom and dragon scale. “You should stop before you hurt yourself.”

Dwayne narrowed his eyes. “This spell is so simple children can do it.”

“Bright children can.”

Dwayne bristled. “So I’m not bright enough?”

Magdala’s face flushed. “No, you’re bright enough, it’s just that its impossible for you.”

Dwayne grit his teeth. “It shouldn’t be. I already know this spell in and out and I know that the theory is sound. It has to be.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Magdala looked away. “You may not have the, the, mental capacity to pull this off.”

“Mental capacity.” Dwayne snorted. “At least I have the ‘capacity’ to face my problems head on.”

Magdala’s eyes bulged. “What does that mean?”

“It means: why haven’t you written to your mother?”

Magdala flushed. “Because… you wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand that she cares about you and you’re just wasting that!” Dwayne finally noticed that his voice was raised, that his fists were tight at his side, that his magic was stirring within him. No, Magdala didn’t deserve any of that. Only he did. He breathed away his anger. “I’m sorry. This is… I’m frustrated. We’ve been at this for months.”

“Well, I… what?” Magdala goggled at him. “You’re sorry?”

Dwayne stood up. “You’re right that our theory might be wrong. I don’t want it to be, but it could it be. It’s just a theory after all, a guess.” He faced Magdala. “But I think you should write to your mother. When she’s worried, she sends water spheres to drown us.”

“Mother doesn’t care about me.” Magdala wrapped her arms around herself. “She wants me to be like her, to graduate top of the class, to become Dean of a prestigious college, to become the Water Sage, the Aqua Magia, one of the most powerful mages in Soura.”

Dwayne frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Everything.” Magdala grimaced. “Nothing. I don’t know.”

Ah that was familiar at least. Dwayne patted her the shoulder. “Maybe that’s the problem?”

“Dwayne, I can’t find my copy of Shocks, Chills, and Colds.” Lord Kalan ignored his apprentice and niece as they sprang apart. “Did I leave it out here?”

“It’s, uh, underneath your pillow.” Dwayne’s face heated. “You were reading it last night.”

“Oh, right.” Lord Kalan looked Dwayne over. “You look better. Good. For now, focus on your Ri studies, and, Magdala, let’s prepare the liquefied azade and ambersoul extract. I have a good feeling about those.”

Magdala was making a show of fussing about with the empty vials, her eyes bright red. “Yes, lord uncle.”

As the two of them worked, Dwayne collected Na’cch from its place on the table and retreated to a far corner of the yard. The book was a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it was the reason why Lord Kalan had freed Dwayne and made him his apprentice, and it was the only way for Dwayne had to learn Ri magic. On the other, the book worked on unknown and arbitrary principles and Dwayne didn’t know if it he could spend the next several hours trying to get it to reveal a new spell when he could try to get the vials again. After all, the last time he’d made progress on Ri spells was when he’d been out in the field and there was no way they were risking another trip like that. Unless…

Dwayne pulled Lady Pol’s letter out of his pocket. “I have something… master.” The address felt icky on Dwayne’s tongue, but it had the desired effect.

Lord Kalan perked up. “What is it?”

Dwayne held up the letter. “This is an invitation from Lady Pol to explain Resonance theory to her.” He saw Magdala’s eyes widened, but she didn’t contradict him because it was true. Sort of.

Lord Kalan frowned. “That doesn’t sound like the woman who calls herself the Lightning Bolt of the East.”

Did she really call herself that? “Apparently, she’s at some dig down in the City of- in Yumma and found something that could support your theory.” Possibly true.

“If so, she’d-”

“Master, she’ll definitely back down in the event of your theory explaining evidence that she herself found.” This was definitely a lie. As far as Dwayne could tell, Lady Pol was just as stubborn as Lord Kalan. “That’s why we’ve been running all these experiments? To find hard evidence?”

His master waved Dwayne over. “Are you sure that’s from Luisa?” When Dwayne showed him the envelope’s purple wax seal, a stag and a tree, Lord Kalan stroked his chin. “Ah, that’s here. Well, it looks I have a great deal to write. You’ll make the arrangements Dwayne?”

“Always.”

Magdala arranged her materials. “Won’t we need protection for the journey?”

Dwayne blinked. “I’m not sure-”

“Yumma is pretty far away from her. There may be bandits.”

“Good idea.” Lord Kalan looked distracted. “Dwayne, hire some bodyguards.”

“I think those Tuquese mercenaries we hired last time are they still in town.”

Dwayne understood. Magdala wanted to hire Mei and her brother again. “I can track them down.”

“Excellent.” Lord Kalan was already scribbling away. “Get it done.”

“Got it.”

“Yes, lord uncle.”

Dwayne strode out of the yard.

Magdala caught up to him. “You lied.”

Dwayne shrugged. “Did you want to stay here making vials?”

“No, but you lied.” Magdala caught his elbow. “Tell me why.”

Dwayne shrugged. “I think that I’ll get better results out in the field.”

Magdala’s green eyes searched his face. “Hmm… Well, if you say so.”

Dwayne looked away. “You came up with Mei’s name rather quickly. Are you still in contact with them?”

“I am with Mei.” Magdala released him and they entered the inn. “Not her brother.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s a villain.”

***

“Please, good sir, spare a coin for me?”

Baron Ruil, a lanky grey-bearded noble, recoiled at the foreign beggar’s sly yet pitiful smile. “What is the border guard doing these days?”

The beggar wheezed into his blue scarf then grabbed Ruil’s fine green cloak. “Just a coin, good sir.”

“No, you vagabond, let go of me.“ Baron Ruil snatched back his cloak. “Cups, you’re a blight.”

“I’ll handle it, milord.” Ruil’s bodyguard, an armored hulk of a man, grabbed the beggar by the collar and shoved him to the ground. “Have this, you leech.” He sank a foot in the beggar’s gut. “That’ll teach you to bother your betters.” A growl, low and soft, made him grab his sword hilt. “What the-?” The bodyguard peered at the beggar, who groaned loudly.

Ruil sniffed. “What is it? Is he armed?”

“No, it’s nothing, milord. Let’s keep moving before more show up.”

As soon as the noble and his bodyguard were out of sight, the beggar slipped into the nearest alleyway and removed the tape pulling at the corners of his eyes and the false teeth he’d stuffed into his mouth, tossing both into a sack he’d pulled from its hiding place. Then Huan checked his haul: twenty-three counts, Ruil’s flask of tea, and his real target, a small thick book that Ruil had kept close to his heart. It had taken Huan four days to confirm that the baron had a book that detailed the secrets of the Tuquese binding art, the very magic used to create the Tiger mask that Huan had been involuntarily bonded to for nearly a month. With this, he could free himself and move on to bigger, better things.

He opened the book to the first page past the table of contents:

It must be said; Tuquese nobles are as obsessed with what they can do with string and thread as they are with tea as both are intrinsic to how a Tuquese noble presents herself to the world. If you see a noble who serves you the finest tea while you rest on threadbare carpet, rest assure that you are in the company of someone desperate to win your favor.

What is this crap? Huan shut the book and looked at its title. Strung History: The Importance of Weaving in Tuquese Culture. Worthless. He flung the book into the nearest trash heap.

“You shouldn’t throw away books.” The voice was prim, self-important, and, sadly, familiar.

Huan plastered a smile on his face. “You can have it if you want.” He turned to face Magdala. She was with Dwayne, the idiot noble’s apprentice. “I think it’s right up your alley.” He pulled the book out of the trash and held it out.

“Oh, you do, do you?” Magdala reached for the book.

Huan pulled it back. “Three counts.”

“You threw it away!”

“And now you want it.” Huan’s smile became a shark’s grin. “Four counts.” How did they find me?

Dwayne stepped forward, and Huan fought the urge to step back. Up close, the Wesen mage was tall enough to tower over Huan, and that imbalance curled the beast’s lips and made Huan very aware of the knife hidden in his sleeve. Huan widened his smile. “Ten counts if you want it. It’ll expand your horizons.”

Dwayne didn’t give the book a single glance. “One earl a day for you and your sister’s expertise.”

Oh, this is a negotiation. “Two earls.”

“1 and 2 counts.” Dwayne raised his chin. “You barely helped with the dragon.”

How dare you. Huan scoffed. “1 and 6 counts. My sister found the dragon after all.”

“1 and four counts then.” Dwayne’s eyes twinkled. “For her.”

Bite him! Huan ignored the beast’s suggestion and cut off the negotiation. “Done.” He needed to get rid of this mask or else he’d end up killing someone. “What’s the job?”

“We’re going to Yumma,” Dwayne said.

Huan managed not to roll his eyes. “Are we hunting dragons again? Because if so, it’s double.”

“Where is Yumma?”

Huan jumped as the answer to how two mages found him in a city like Anders stepped up beside him. “Mei, there you are.” The beast shifted warily. It never did hear her coming. “You want to work with these two again?”

“Yumma is in the middle of the Great Desert.” Magdala beamed at Mei. “There’s an antiquarian dig there.”

Huan narrowed his eyes at his sister. “You didn’t ask what the job was?”

Mei looked southwest. “Is that far from here?”

“Yes, but-”

“We’ll do it.”

“Mei, we should at least…” Huan’s sister smelled like blood and urine and she’d changed clothes since this morning. “What happened?”

At the back of Huan’s mind, the beast rumbled with pleasure. Her hunt went well.

“You’ll see.” Mei nodded to Magdala. “I’ll need some things.”

Huan’s head jerked back. She wants to negotiate now?

Dwayne gave Mei a sidelong look. “Like what?”

“More bullets. More powder.”

Magdala nodded. “Easy. I’ll make you some.”

“We’ll take it out of your pay,” said Dwayne.

Huan shook his head. “No, you-”

“That’s fine.” Mei bowed.

“Deal.”

Someday, Huan had to teach his sister how to haggle. “Deal.” He clapped his hands together. “When do we leave?”

“The end of the week,” answered Dwayne. “I’ll send word to where you’re staying.” He turned and started to walk away.

Classic. Dwayne was trying to cut off further negotiations. “You’ll be paying for our stay at the tavern, of course?” Huan asked Magdala.

The noble frowned and nodded. “I don’t see why not.”

Behind her, Dwayne’s shoulders lifted in a sigh.

Huan managed to stifle a smile and bowed deeply. “Thank you very much.” He waited until both mages were gone before tossing the useless book back in the trash and turning to his sister. “Mei, tell me why we’re going out to the middle of the desert?”

Mei walked away from him.

“Hey, I was talking to you.”

“I need sleep.”

Confused, Huan caught up to Mei and tried to get her to talk while they crossed Anders’s tiny noble district and walked to the city’s outer limits, where the tavern they were lodged at stood. He’d made zero progress when they’d entered the main room where a party was in full swing around a mountain of fur and flesh.

Huan stared. It was some kind of bear, but it had a bone plate on its face. “What on Markosia is that?”

“Ho, ho!” A hunter clapped Huan on the back and nearly dunked him in beer. “You ain’t never seen a grimbear before?”

“No, I haven’t.” Huan stepped out of the hunter’s shadow. “Where’d it come from?”

“Your sister,” the hunter pointed to Mei, who was already making her way up the stairs, “brought it in by herself. Don’t know how she did it.” She took a swig of beer.

The beast knew. Penetrated back of the throat and then cut the carotid artery.

Huan heart dropped into his stomach, but he hid his dismay with a laugh. “That’s my sister.” He glanced over at the stairs, but Mei was gone. She’d said that she wasn’t going to hunt, not while they still had the money from the dragon job. What had changed? What happened? “If you would excuse me.” He’d ask her properly later. Right now, he needed a drink.

The barkeep glowered at Huan when he sat down.

Huan pointed to the corpse. “My sister did bring down that grimbear. That’s worth a free drink, I think.”

The barkeep extended a hand.

“Come on! I’m drinking to her success.”

The hand didn’t move.

“You’re so cruel.” Huan pulled out a coin from the baron's purse and dropped it into the barkeep’s hand.

The barkeep glanced at the silver count then glared at Huan.

“Hey, that’s honest money,” said Huan. At least it wasn’t hiding something.

The barkeep grunted, dropped the coin into a pocket, and then placed a tankard in front of Huan.

Huan sniffed the contents. “That was a whole count!”

The barkeep moved on to other customers.

Relenting, Huan picked up the tankard and turned on his stool to watch the party his sister had started. The tavern’s regulars were either hunters like Mei, who needed someplace close to the forest that wasn’t too picky about the smell, or scoundrels like Huan, who profited off the people of Anders and needed an easy escape route into the forest. This was all helped by the fact that the barkeep and her husband didn’t care that were anyone was from, only that they paid.

Sighing, Huan took a sip, winced, and took another sip. Baron Ruil had been his last lead to finding a way to remove the Tiger Mask. Now, he only had two choices left: return to Tuqu or head deeper into Soura. With the ShengXiao guard were still out for blood, the former was right out, but as a foreigner the latter was complicated. Yes, he and his sister both had metal plates provided by Lord Kalan’s nobility that allowed them to stay on this side of the border, but that was the only thing they did. They didn’t create any new opportunities.

Huan took another sip. An antiquarian dig had to be backed by someone rich, probably someone with connections to Soura’s capitol Bradford, and ff he was lucky, that someone wouldn’t have a shrewd tightwad like Dwayne watching their books and purses. In the meantime, almost one and half earls a day was more than enough to pay someone to find a way to free him. Or maybe even erase his sister’s criminal record and let her go home. He’d drink to that.

Huan emptied the tankard and slapped down a count. “Another!”