An earl a day isn’t worth this. Hot and thirsty, Huan looked up from the ever-present dust of the Great Desert and searched the horizon for any signs of civilization, but all he found was dust, sky, and the occasional hand-shaped plant.

Ahead of him, a sweat-swamped Magdala asked, “Why would anyone civilized come out here?”

Huan tried to respond with something witty, but a growl came out instead. For once, the beast found this as miserable as he did. It hated the heat, despised the open sky, and loathed the many, many errands Lord Kalan had forced huan to run, from helping Magdala drain sap from the strange plants to assisting Dwayne as he put up the caravan’s tents. The beast’s irritation increased Huan’s misery so much that he envied Magdala’s freedom to air her complaints.

Pulling his gaze away from the empty, shimmering horizon, Huan doubled his pace and caught up to his sister, who was walking out ahead of the caravan. With her rifle case slung across her back, Mei looked at home here in this wasteland. She’d enjoyed her errands, catching a menagerie of small creatures for Lord Kalan’s pleasure. Out here, she seemed more alive.

Huan slowed. Is that why she wanted to leave Anders?

“Hey you, move out of the way!”

Huan made way for the mule handlers and their half dozen mules. Somehow Dwayne had somehow scrounged up them and a guide to get them to Yumma, an impressive feat sullied by the decision to load up fully four of the mules with books instead of supplies. With half of the provisions consumed and their destination not even in sight, Huan hoped that they reached Yumma soon. Curse mages and their love for books.

A soft jangle pulled Huan’s attention back to the caravan, where a surprising sight kept pace with the mules. Four armored men of immense size bore an ornate litter in which sat the personage of a south Souran noble. According to Dwayne, he’d run into her while he'd been arranging the trip, and she had insisted on accompanying them, apparently out of curiosity. The Wesen mage had described her as “short, brusque, and rich.” Huan adjusted the scarf that covered the Tiger mask. It was well past time to confirm that report.

After putting on his widest smile, Huan made his way to the litter. As he approached, one of the litter bearers took in his cheap sword and rough clothing, then, insultingly in the beast’s view, dismissed him as a threat. His hand only dropped to the giant curved sword on his hip out of habit, not concern.

Covering the beast’s peeved growl with a cough, Huan looked up into the litter addressed the figure within who was writing on fine parchment using a feather quill pen. “Good day, milady.”

The quill didn’t stop moving.

“I must apologize.” Huan removed his hat and bowed. “It’s been four days since you joined our little expedition, and I’ve failed to introduce myself. My name is Huan, and I’m providing security for this caravan. I trust your journey has been comfortable thus far?”

The noble dipped her quill into a small black bottle, wiped the excess ink off the tip, and kept on writing, her right hand keeping the sleeve of her deep red silk robe out of the way. It and the wide yellow sash that kept it closed at the hip were odd choices for a Souran noblewoman, who mostly preferred skirts and dresses, the pretend-soldier Magdala notwithstanding. She also wore a jade ring that was inscribed with a familiar pattern.

I’ve seen that before. Where? Huan’s smile stiffened. Han Luo fortress. Huan switched to Tuquese. “That ring is most impressive. The design reminds me of one worn by members of the Jade Lotus.”

The quill stopped moving. “You are?” The noble’s Tuquese was harsher than his, more focused on the consonants, like she’d learned the language from a Souran.

“Huan.”

“Family?”

Huan’s mind raced. “Ma.”

“Hmm.” The noble put down her quill and turned to him, finally giving him a clear view of her blue eyes and bronze skin, a compelling combination, though the shape of her eyes did look familiar. She held up her right hand and showed Huan the ring. “Where did you seen this design?”

Huan made a show of looking at it again then bowed an apology. “I’m sorry I’m not sure. I’ve traveled all over the empire, and I’ve had many dealings with many people.” He tried not to squirm under her gaze. After all, his “dealings” had been robberies, burglaries and, when he could, straight up confidence scams.

The noble shifted in her seat. “Hmm…” She snapped her fingers

The litter bearers stepped out of the way of the caravan and knelt so that the noble could step down onto the dusty ground. Once so alighted, she bowed her head. “I am Lian Momin.”

Huan updated his assessment. No title. Tuquese first name, Souran last name. Not a noble, but still incredibly rich. He bowed again. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Momin’s eyes assessed him. “Why are you on this expedition?”

“As security, like I said.”

“Are you paid well?”

Huan’s stomach fluttered. What was she getting at? “More than enough.”

“Is that really why you’re on this expedition?” Momin searched his face. “You're not at all curious about what was uncovered at Yumma?”

Something was uncovered? Huan shrugged. “Money and good company are more than enough for me.” As soon as he said that, he knew it was the wrong answer.

Momin’s next question dripped with ice. “Did you know who I was before I introduced myself?”

“No, I did not, milady.” Huan forced a smile. “I hadn’t yet had the pleasure.”

Another wrong answer. A ghost of a frown crossed Momin’s face. “I see.” She stepped back onto the litter and snapped her fingers. The litter bearers resumed their work.

Huan couldn’t let her go. “Ah, milady, I…”

The litter’s curtains snapped closed.

***

As the sun touched the horizon, Mei took in the ancient city of Yumma and its series of impossibly tall white rectangular monoliths with square holes cut into them. As the caravan traveled up a dry canal - it was so wide giants must have carved it - Mei tried to figure out what was missing. Then it came to her; the smell of horse dung, the murmur of human voices, the light of a dozen fires, none of that filled this empty city, which for all its awesome structures lacked the warmth of human breath and touch. While Mei hadn’t really liked Anders, it had been a normal sort of strange, one made by the living, not the eeriness of the dead.

They couldn’t go back though. Rabbit was there.

Mei would be more at ease if Yumma didn’t tailor made for a trap. She couldn’t hide here as she’d stick out against the city’s white stone like shadows on snow, and hiding in the buildings was like walking into an open maw. With all that, it was clear that this wasn’t her place, and Mei hoped they wouldn’t stay long.

A gale whined through the buildings, and Mei pushed into it to keep herself steady, but it caught Maggie’s cloak and yanked her back, so Mei quick-stepped and pushed Maggie back to her feet. When the gale died away, Mei asked her, “Are you okay?”

Maggie nodded. “Thank you.” She gazed upwards. “This place is… I thought it would be something more familiar, but they… this isn’t even stone.”

Mei glanced at the nearest building, which looked like marble to her. “It isn’t?”

“No, I tested it. It’s some sort of multipartesque compound, like a cross between wood and mine oil.”

“Oh.” That didn’t sound possible, but Mei seen Maggie turn animal parts and water into explosive powder.

Maggie ran a hand along the nearest wall. “I have no idea how they made any of this.”

“However they did it,” Dwayne joined them from the back of the caravan, “they did it before Ri mages existed. Qe mages too.”

“They did?” Maggie pushed hair out of her eyes. “Uh, how do you know that?”

Dwayne’s mouth worked a bit before he spoke. “I, uh, read it in one of the late Lady Pol’s papers. She tracked down references to both magics and there’s nothing credible before the rise of the Empire. Oh,” he pointed ahead, “looks like we’re here.”

They’d reached an encampment set up in the vacant city’s broad central square, in the western shadow of an immense block that was roughly ten wirs on each side and carved with thousands of symbols. Under normal circumstances, it would have dominated Mei’s attention, but the relief from smelling and hearing and seeing human activity pulled it away. Finally she had a crowd to hide in and maybe chance for some stew.

“I’ll go inform Lord Kalan.” Dwayne dropped back to the back of the caravan.

“Tea, miss?”

Her heart pounding and her hand on her knife, Mei jumped back from the black suited, white gloved man who was armed with a silver tray of… teacups. She frowned.

“Mei, stop!” Maggie pulled Mei’s hand away from the knife. “He's just serving you tea.” She took two cups off the tray and handed one to Mei. “Thank you.”

Mei sniffed the brown liquid, which smelled earthy and floral and not like tea at all.

“Is Lady Pol available?” Maggie asked.

The man in the suit shook his graying head. “Currently Milady is resting, but I shall apprise her of your arrival immediately, milady.”

“Thank you. That’ll be all.”

Mei tracked the suited man as he offered tea to Lord Kalan, who took it without looking up from his book, and to Dwayne, who fled.

“He’s a butler,” said Maggie.

Mei blinked at her.

“A servant,” Maggie explained.

Mei had only seen those from afar before. “He’s very quiet.”

“All the good ones are. My mother,” Maggie winced, “fires any servant who makes a sound while serving tea.”

“Okay.” Mei returned to tracking the butler, but he was gone. The only sign of his passing through was that Huan now had a cup in his hand.

“Do you want… different tea?” asked Maggie. “I don’t know if you’re used to what we have here. I mean I know most of our tea comes from West Tuqu, but I don’t know if you drink our kind.”

Mei shook her head and took a cautious sip. A soothing bitterness filled her mouth and washed the dust from her throat. She liked it so much she downed the rest of the tea in one gulp.

“More tea, miss?” asked the butler.

This time Mei did not go for her knife. She did, however, jump back, just a little. As for the butler, he waited patiently for her response, tea pot as still as stone in his hands. Cautiously, Mei held out her cup.

The butler filled it with a flourish. “My apologies, milady and miss, dinner will be served shortly.” He straightened up. “I can assure you that the results will be well worth the wait.”

Honestly, anything other than water and salt bread would be worth the wait.

“I’m sure it will suit.” Maggie inclined her head. “Thank you.”

As the butler bowed and moved to fill other cups, Mei’s eyes followed him.

Maggie leaned in. “You don’t need to keep an eye on him. He’s doing an excellent job, considering our sudden arrival.” She stiffened.

Mei frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I just, well.”

Dwayne walked by with a tall stack of books in his arms. He saw Maggie and Mei, muttered “oh, excuse me”, and shuffled off into the encampment.

Maggie huffed. “He really should get one of the handlers to help him unpack. He literally hired people to do that for him.”

Mei, not seeing how she could contribute to this conversation, drank more of her tea and kept her eyes on the butler.

“Did you know that he’s been trying to cast that bloody spell every day?” Maggie crossed her arms. “I have never seen someone get heat stroke and thaumaturgical shock at the same time. Why does he try so hard?”

Mei lifted her eyebrows. The butler was gone. Looks like she’d have to summon him. Mei finished her tea.

The butler appeared at her side. “More tea, miss?”

Impressive. After taking advantage of her attention to Maggie to slip out of sight, he’d approached from her blind spot. She had to know how he did it. “What is your name?”

The butler bowed. “I am called Myers, miss.”

“Myers. I’ll remember that.”

Maggie scowled at Mei. “Were you listening?”

“Yes.” Mei sipped her tea. “Dwayne tries hard.”

“But you think he should stop, right?”

Mei savored the tea for a moment then shook her head. “No, I think he wants to fly.”

Maggie blinked. “What? What does flying have to do with anything?”

Mei lowered her cup and let her nascent thought grow. “Last spring, I found a nest with five baby birds in it. They had just grown wing feathers, so they already starting to leave the nest soon, but there was one with new feathers, who was smaller than the others. Everyday he tried so hard to fly like his brothers and sisters, but he couldn’t get much further than the edge of the nest because his mama kept stopping him and pushing him back. He kept trying and trying, even falling out of the nest a couple times before his mama could stop him. It didn’t stop him though; he always tried again the next day. Then, two weeks after his brothers and sisters had left, he finally flew.”

Maggie stared at Mei. “You’re saying that Dwayne wants to fly? That’s a much harder spell!”

Mei shrugged and took another sip of tea. Maggie would understand eventually.

“Well, I think he should give up on being a Qe mage. He’s barely a Ri mage. He should focus on that. Here.” Maggie gave Mei her still full cup of tea.

Mei frowned at it. “You don’t want it?”

“I’m going to find him and stop him.” Maggie stomped off in the direction Dwayne had gone.

Mei shrugged and went to wander through the camp, sipping from both tea cups. Soon she reached the giant square block overlooking the camp. She peered at the symbols. Close up, the grand swoops and curls were made of smaller squiggles that looked a little like the markings Maggie put on parchment, only these were more complex. Mei moved to a door, which - unlike the walls - was covered in carvings of people and creatures. Along its left side farmers tilled the land under a dripping wet a fish-bird, on the right workers erected buildings with the help of a huge monkey-lizard, across the top, a giant crab with tentacles for eyes hauled a boat full of men and fish across the sky, and in the center a massive tree held all of it. None of these creatures were in any stories Mei’s father had told her, which described beasts and bugs and birds across all of Markosia, Tuqu, Soura, Wesen, even some place called Vanu-something, but not a single one of them looked like these strange beasts. She hoped she never had to hunt any of them.

After finished up both cups of tea, Mei was making her way back to the caravan when Dwayne rushed into view, staggering under a mountain of books. He dropped the books in front of Lord Kalan’s tent, grabbed a particularly large one off the pile, and sat to read aloud. Curious, Mei stepped in close to see what was written.

“‘Imagination misleads the Qe mage to try and do the absolutely impossible,’” read Dwayne. “‘Instead of relying on fantasy, one needs to think of concrete and real things and focus on use the materials before’ -whoa! Mei?” Dwayne clutched the book to his chest. “Um, do you need something?”

Mei shook her head. The writing in Dwayne’s book was less interesting and pretty than the stuff carved into the block. In fact it was so regular, she couldn’t imagine how they were made by humans hands.

Dwayne opened the book again. “Are you interested in magic?”

Mei shook her head.

“I thought not.” Dwayne sighed. “Unfortunately, this collection is pretty focused on magic. There aren’t any books on hunting or...” He gestured at Mei’s rifle.

Mei crossed her arms. “There are books on hunting?” Her father had had a few pictures, but nothing more.

“Almost too many.” Dwayne smirked. “When Lord Kalan first…yeah… we spent a lot of time up north staying in castles and having dinners with noblemen. You cannot believe how many times saying the word ‘scat’ saved me. It usually got me through a whole dinner.”

Mei’s stomach grumbled.

“Dinner should be ready soon,” said Myers, tray and teapot at the ready.

Mei covered her smile when Dwayne jumped. “Thank you for telling us,” Dwayne said.

Myers raised the tray. “Tea, milord, miss?”

Mei held up both of her cups. “Yes, thank you.”

Dwayne clutched his book to his chest. “No, I, uh, can make my own.”

“Is this variety not to your liking?” Myers filled both of Mei’s cups. “Milady has an excellent collection of teas. What is your preference, milord?”

“I’m not a… Just whatever I have. Ha ha.”

Myers bowed. “If you change your mind, just call. I’m sure we can accommodate you.” The butler walked away.

“Somehow,” Dwayne stood up, “I completely forgot about butlers.” He glanced at Mei. “Are you looking for Magdala?”

Mei kept her eyes on Myers. “She’s looking for you.”

“Ah…” Dwayne grimaced. “Just… tell her know I’ll see her at dinner or something. I have to go study.” He grabbed a couple more books off the pile and ducked off into the night.

Alone again, Mei continued her tour of the camp and came upon the strange noble from the caravan just as she alighted from her litter. Mei blinked. Where had the noble gone to arrive so late? Why was she even here? These questions faded when Mei caught sight of Myers approaching the noble from an oblique angle, his tray of tea at the ready. He wasn’t being sneaky exactly, but he was keeping out of sight nevertheless, slipping between the noble’s guards before they knew it, but before he could offer her tea, the noble’s hand came up and waved him away. Mei sucked in a breath. How had the noble known? Even Maggie and Lord Kalan hadn’t noticed Myers.

The intrigue was only enhanced when one of the guards approached her and bowed, his lowered head still towering over her. “Lian Momin requests your presence.”

Mei glanced at the noble, who was directing her guards to lay out a rug, a small table and two cushions out on the dusty ground. Momin, who wasn’t much taller than Mei, who had hair which shone brown in the fire light, who knelt on the cushion with her ankles and knees tucked under her, seemed Tuquese not Souran. Curious.

“Okay.” Mei allowed the guard lead her to Momin. She knelt on the second cushion, placing her tea cups on the table.

Momin smiled. “It’s good to meet you, Mei.”

Mei stiffened. “How do you know my name?”

Momin gestured to Huan. “He told me.”

Mei’s eyes flicked to her brother, who was chatting up one of the workers, but before she could reply, a bowl of stew was placed in front of her. Her mouth watered at the meat, tubers and vegetables floating within.

“Locally sourced stew.” Myers refilled her tea and turned to Momin. “Would the missus like some stew?”

“Not at the moment.” Momin’s eyes didn’t leave Mei. “Leave us.”

“As you wish.”

As Myers departed, Mei wolfed down her stew, finishing it off in barely a dozen spoonfuls.

“That is some appetite,” Momin said in fine, articulated Tuquese. She spoke like an Imperial scholars.

Mei shrugged. “I’m hungry,” she replied in Tuquese.

“I’m sure.” Momin’s smile returned. “Children your age are always hungry I’m sure.” She gestured to Huan, who was collecting a bowl. “Your brother told me you two are providing security for the caravan. You both are very young to have been hired for such work. Where are your parents?”

“Dead.” Mei tried to get the last bits of stew out of her bowl, using that to cover for the sharp pain in her heart. Even now, she could still remember Huan crying for days, nights spent clutching her mother’s pillow. Another bowl of stew materialized in front of her. Mei looked up at Myers and smiled in thanks.

Momin again refused the bowl and waited for Mei to finish her stew. “I think you eat more than my men. I do wonder how you guard our caravan, considering your lack of weaponry. Are you trained in unarmed combat?”

“No.” Eating had given Mei enough time to assess the not-actually-a-noble sitting across from her who was less like the pampered cats of the Tuquese nobility and more like a panther, her blue eyes staying cheerful and open and discerning. Mei casually let a hand drop to her knife.

Momin shifted in her seat. “Fascinating,” Momin leaned forward, “and yet, that boy of Lord Kalan’s swore by you and your brother’s skill and ability, and seeing you work has convinced me. I run a small company down in Adhua. I was wondering if after your work here, you’d be willing to accept a job from me. It might take you into the Tuqu Em-”

“No.” When Momin’s smile grew teeth, Mei knew she’d given away something she could not take back. Her hand closed on her knife.

Huan’s hand pulled it away. “What she means is,” he said in Souran, “that we’re not currently interested in returning home.” Huan placed Mei’s hand on her lap and sat down. “Frankly, opportunities here in Soura are far more interesting. Sourans prize transparency and objectivity and that makes it easier to do business here. All you have to do is show the profit in a venture, they’ll provide the funds.”

Momin sat back, her smile gone. “What services do you provide on these ventures?” Her eyes shifted. “Mei?”

At this snub, a low growl, audible only to Mei, emanated from Huan. This was not the time for Tiger. She slapped her brother on the back. “Are you okay?” When Huan faked a cough and nodded, Mei answered Momin’s question. “I hunt.”

Huan brought his hands together. “She brought down a grimbear by herself.”

Momin raised an eyebrow. “That is certainly an achievement.” Her eyes met Mei’s. “How?”

Enough. Mei got to her feet. “I’m full. I’ll go help set up camp.” She walked away.

“Oh? Pity. We’ll talk later then.”

Huan caught up to Mei as she pulled their stuff from a mule. “What was that?”

Mei glanced at Momin. “I don’t like her.” She didn’t tell Huan why.

***

After an hour of failing to get Marshall’s Thaumaturgic Theory to make sense, Dwayne returned to camp and found that the stew had been put away, and so he went to the cooking tent hoping to find leftovers. He walked in just as a scoop of the stew plopped into the bowl of a rail-thin scullery boy.

The cook froze, her serving spoon still over the bowl. “Oh uh… are you hungry?” She noticed his traveling clothes, which even dusty were finer than most. “Milord?”

“I’m starving.” Dwayne searched the tent, ignoring the stares of the scullery boy and the cook’s assistants. “Is there any left?”

“Just what I’ve given him, milord.” The cook indicated the scullery boy’s bowl.

The boy tried to hide his panic behind a scowl and a dare, but it was the congealing glares of the adults that concerned Dwayne.

“He can have it.” Dwayne tried to keep his tone light. “He’ll need it to grow big and strong.”

“Thank you, milord.” The cook put away her spoon as the boy practically dove into the bowl. “We’d have more if that Tuquese girl you brought hadn’t had like five bowls.”

That was surprising. Mei hadn’t eaten any more than anyone else on the way over. Dwayne asked, “Is there any bread or cheese?”

The cook pointed. “Over there on the shelf.”

“Thank you.” Dwayne grabbed half a loaf and a slice of cheese.

The cook eyed him. “You don’t want any more, milord?”

“No, no, this is good. Thanks again.” Dwayne stepped out of the tent, pausing to arrange food and book into an easier to carry configuration.

The cook’s voice, low and soft, came from within the tent. “I ain’t ever seen one up close before.”

“He’s darker than them southerners by far,” said a gravelly voice, presumably one of the cook’s assistants.

“He’s dressed like a nob though. Talks like one too,” said another, their voice more squeaky than the others. “Probably he thinks he is one.”

Dwayne sighed. This was usual. Most common Sourans were suspicious of him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Quickly, he made his way back to his makeshift retreat on the edge of the camp, where a half dozen fire lights floated gently in the air and created just enough to read by. Taking a seat on an ancient stone bench, he opened up Marshall’s and once again tried to make sense of it, nibbling on bread as he read. He’d almost parsed a paragraph when something clinked behind him. He looked up. He had company

A hooded figure bearing a large crossbow cupped one of his flames in one hand. “How romantic,” they said, trilling the ‘r’s and clicking the ‘c’s. “Also bold, showing off your magic in the open like this.”

Dwayne jumped to his feet, Marshall’s, bread, and cheese spilling to the ground. “Who are you?” That accent brought memories of whips and blood. “Vanurian.”

“The accent gave me away, didn’t it?” The hood came down, revealing dark braided hair, wide brown eyes, and a dusky face with high cheekbones. “Still, most Sourans would guess Adhua.” The speaker stepped into the fire circle and sat down on the bench with her crossbow laid across her lap. “I assume you’ve heard the stories.”

They weren’t stories for Dwayne. “What are you doing north of the Line?”

The Vanurian pulled a flask out from under her cloak. “Traveling the world, eating delicious food, and making good friends.” She took a swig. “What about you? What are you doing here outside the Ri?” She peered over her flask. “You are male, yes?”

Dwayne’s fist clenched. “That’s none of your business, Vanurian.”

“Odette.”

“What?”

“That’s my name, Odette.” The Vanurian gazed up at the lights. “I’ve never seen Ri magic used like this, just for plain old light. This is sight worth traveling to see.”

Questions threatened to dislodge Dwayne’s anger, questions like “Where had you seen Ri magic used?” and “Why did you ask if I was male?”, but he wanted her, needed her gone. He was still figuring out how to resolve that when Magdala crashed into the circle.

“Dwayne! Dwayne!” She bent over, panting. “It’s my lord uncle.”

Dwayne felt a chill. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fighting Lady Pol!”

“What?”

“Ooo,” Odette popped to her feet. “This should be good.”

Dwayne stared at her. “I don’t know why…” But Magdala’s glare reminded him why. “The invitation.” Between arranging the caravan and studying Qe theory, he’d completely forgotten about his lie. With a word, he dismissed his flames and sprinted back to the square with Magdala and Odette on his heels. There he found his master in a standoff with a short blond woman in front of the giant cuboid monolith. Lord Kalan was still in his dusty disheveled traveling clothes, but the woman, Lady Pol Dwayne guessed, was dressed in typical Souran evening wear, three layers of skirted clothing and a heavy woolen shawl.

Lady Pol put her hands on her hip. “Why are you here again? I hope it wasn’t just to terrorize my expedition with your crazy demands.”

Lord Kalan raised his chin. “I received your invitation, and I have prepared proof and demonstration of my theory. The only question you should be asking me is do you want me to start now or in the morning?”

“Invitation? What invitation?” Lady Pol put a hand to her forehead. “Cups, man, I sent you a challenge! Is reading comprehension the first thing that goes when you lose your mind?”

“Oh, ho, ho, are we trading insults now?” Lord Kalan grasped his collar. “I’ve read your papers. A true Qe mage bases her ideas and opinions on facts, not childish notions!”

“Childish? You arrogant waste of magic!” Dwayne found it was hard not to empathize with that statement. “I feel for your dear lady sister, who’s related to a brother so demonstrably ignorant of his role in society that he abandoned his duty to queen and queendom. There has been serious debate of stripping you of your position at court, and its only Her Majesty’s faith in you that protects you, but despite royal favor, this is what’s become of you?”

Lord Kalan tried to come up with a retort. “You…You…wench!” Scintillating.

It was at this time that Dwayne felt he should wade in. “Lord Kalan. Lady Pol.”

The scorching attention of two of the most powerful mages in Soura turned on the lowly apprentice, who broke out into a cold sweat.

Both spoke at once.

Lord Kalan said, “Dwayne, we’re leaving.”

Lady Pol asked, “Who is this?”

Lord Kalan harrumphed. “This is my apprentice, Dwayne.”

Lady Pol’s eyes widened. “No, no, no, he is not your apprentice. If he was, his name would be in the Joanburg Register as required by royal decree. If he was, I’d know him because he’d either be a noble’s son or a prodigy personally vetted by the Sages. If he was, Odette would have had a field day gleefully reminding me that my rival Lord Kalan has an apprentice and I don’t.”

“That’s true. I would have,” said Odette.

Lady Pol continued, “He is not your apprentice.”

“Mere formalities.” Lord Kalan put an arm around Dwayne’s shoulders. “He is my apprentice, and he’s already made significant contributions to my research, to the world even.”

“Where did you even get him?”

“That-” Lord Kalan coughed. “That is none of your concern.”

Lady Pol looked over Dwayne. “He’s not young enough to be your bastard. Are you going to claim you were found him on the side of the road?”

“Of course he didn’t, Lu.” Odette moved next to Lady Pol. “He bought him.”

Lady Pol froze. “He… what? How do you know that?”

“It’s obvious. A young Wesen boy who hates Vanurians as much as - Dwayne, was it? - was either a slave or he fell in love with a beautiful Vanurian just like me, who tricked him out of his money and left him for dead. Since there’s no one else like me…”

Lady Pol rounded on Dwayne. “Were you a slave?”

“Yes,” Dwayne drew himself up to his full height, “but now I’m Lord Kalan’s apprentice, and…” He glanced at Lord Kalan. “I have a confession to make. Lord Kalan, Master, I lied.” The sudden hurt in Lord Kalan’s eyes made it hard to continue, but Dwayne couldn’t stop. “She just wanted you to see if you could open this…” He gestured to the cuboid monolith. “-thing. That’s all.” He stepped back, his eyes on the ground.

Lord Kalan’s voice shook. “You… lied to me.”

“I do think we have a chance to convince her with our latest evidence though.” Dwayne couldn’t look up. “I’ve been reading-”

“No.” His master’s voice was forceful. “You’ll get us ready to leave immediately. We’ll discuss this once we’re out of sight of this place.”

“Yes, master.” Dwayne looked up and nodded. “I’ll do that.”

“See that you do.” Lord Kalan turned on his heel and started to walk away.

“So,” Lady Pol was looking up at the monolith, “you can’t open this, right?”

Lord Kalan stopped. “What did you say?”

“You’re not even going to try to rise to the occasion, are you?”

Lord Kalan glared at her and then turned to the monolith. “Dwayne, light.”

“O-okay…” Dwayne held his hand over his head and cried, “Ri’a’tha!”

It took dozens of castings to fully light up the monolith in its entirety, but when Dwayne was finished, Lord Kalan stepped past him to inspect the ancient symbols carved into monolith’s surface.

“Early Yaniti of course.” He traced the symbols with his fingers. “No idea how they etched this stone. The establishment assumes the Yaniti had very advanced Ri and Qe magic but provides no hint as to how it was achieved. Of course we could listen to Hobstack and say that they had some sort of fourth magic, but that’s ridiculous. There’s only three magics in the world.” He reached the door and leaned in close. “This is interesting. They etched something here in small print.”

“Even northerners sleep last time I checked.” Lady Momin pulled a thick red robe around herself. Strangely, her guards were nowhere to be found. “Is this some sort of pissing contest?”

Dwayne offered a weak shrug and kept his eyes on Lord Kalan, who was absorbed in inspecting the door’s mural.

“Can he read that?”

Dwayne jumped. “Mei?” The hunter had found new reserves of stealth. And Dwayne’s dinner. “Yes, he can.”

“Oh.” Mei returned to munching on cheese. Despite the late hour, she hadn’t changed for bed and still had her strange weapon slung across her back.

Dwayne pointed to it. “Do you sleep with that?”

Mei pointed at the monolith with a piece of bread. “Can you read that?”

Dwayne shook his head. “No, I haven’t had the time to…I mean…”

“Some mage you are.” Huan joined them, yawning hugely. “Can’t even come up with a good excuse.” He adjusted the sword strapped to his hip.

Were they on patrol? Dwayne frowned at Huan. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Huan watched Mei wander off to join Magdala, who looked distressed. “Mages are scholars, and scholars are practiced liars.”

Lord Kalan stepped back from the door. “This door is fake.”

“Took you long enough.” Lady Pol yawned. “I figured that out within a minute of coming here.”

“Oh, you did, did you?” Lord Kalan turned to her and pointed to the ground. “Did you also find the circle in front of it?”

“Circle.”

“It’s underneath your camp.” Lord Kalan cupped his hands over his mouth. “Move these tents out of the way!” He pointed to half the camp.

The few workers that were awake looked to Lady Pol. She gave Lord Kalan a look. “Really?”

Lord Kalan raised his chin. “I know I’m right.”

“You’d better be or I’m telling your sister about your ‘apprentice’.” As Lord Kalan blanched, Lady Pol called out, “Do what he says!”

As the tents were taken down and moved, Dwayne approached Lord Kalan. “Sir, I…”

Lord Kalan looked sharp, awake, and sad. “We’ll talk after this. I’m disappointed in you.”

Dwayne wished he knew a spell for digging graves.

After an half hour, Lady Pol’s workers had cleared the area, creating an empty patch of dust in front of the monolith.

“Now, we’ll just need to clean this off.” Lord Kalan bowed to Lady Pol. “Do you want to do it or should I?”

Lady Pol rolled her eyes and pointed at the ground. “Qemilo!”

Wind smashed into the ground, filling the air with dust, dirt, and thunder, and it didn’t stop until they were standing on a clean slab of gray stone that was etched with a complex magical circle filled with depictions of creatures stranger than the ones that graced the monolith’s door. Dwayne now stood on the image of a humanoid creature with a mushroom cap for a hat.

“This is amazing!” Magdala pinned her hair out of her face and then dropped to her hands and knees. “Definitely late period Imperial Yaniti, which is simpler than Early Yaniti that was derived from Old Iani.” She traced a symbol. “It’s like Tuquese etching magic. There’s nothing like it in the literature.”

“Certainly not in Magisterium canon.” Lady Pol shook dust out of her hair. “My mother wrote loads about this place, but no one read her.”

“Being unread hardly makes her special.” Lord Kalan placed his hand on the stone, and muttered a spell. The ground shook. “Hmm. Seems like there’s something under there.” He glanced up at Lady Pol. “So, you think I can’t open this, do you?”

Dwayne caught the gleam in his master’s eye. “Sir, I don’t think-”

“Qeuieryit!”