“Did you really think you’d gotten away from the Tuqu Empire?”

Magdala stared at Mrs. Momin, who looked like the perfect merchant: crimson robe, sun touched skin, soft hands, rare jade wedding ring. The only thing out of place was the mask tucked into the sash of her robe.

Magdala inched away. “Mei, what’s going on?”

Mrs. Momin ignored the weapon pointed straight at her chest and stretched. “I thought she was your friend, Mei.” She tapped her mask. “Surely they’ve seen Laohu in action by now. Your brother has hardly been circumspect.”

Mei’s grip on her weapon tightened. “Emching.”

Hoping that that Tuquese word wasn’t an insult, Magdala asked again, “Mei, what’s going on?”

“She’s here,” Mei’s breathing was ragged, “to kill Huan.” She sucked in a breath. “I won’t let her.” Her finger moved to the trigger.

“No!” Magdala threw herself in front of Mei. “You can’t.” Mei’s hand twitched, and Magdala shut her eyes, sure that a bullet was about to rip through her.

Nothing happened.

Magdala opened her eyes. The hunter’s weapon was still trained on Mrs. Momin even through Magdala’s body, but the hunter was wavering.

Mei jerked her head to the left. “Move.”

Magdala shook her head. “No.”

“I have to protect my brother.” Mei stepped to the left.

Magdala mirrored her. “Why are they after him?”

Mei scowled. “He took Tiger from them. They want it back.”

Mrs. Momin guffawed, her amusement a peal of thunder.

Magdala forced herself not to turn around. “I don’t see how this is funny, Mrs. Momin.”

“You do lack both humor and perspective.” The merchant’s amusement was infuriating. “Do you get that from your mother?”

“I-” Magdala bit back her retort. Her friend was more important. “Mei, are you on the run from the Tuqu empire?”

Mei blinked, her face going blank as she parsed Magdala’s question. “Yes,” she answered.

“Will killing her solve that problem?”

“They can’t chase us if they don’t know where we are.” Mei stepped to the right.

Again, Magdala mirrored her. “But I don’t think we can get out of here without her. We definitely can’t fight off that creature by ourselves.”

Mei’s eyes flicked to Magdala. “I have you. That’s enough.”

That vote of confidence warmed Magdala’s heart and joined the part of her that was questioning her suicidal choice to jump in front of a hand cannon, but she was appalled at Mei’s bloodthirstiness. Magdala tried a smile. “We also have no idea how to get out.”

The hunter shrugged. “Humans made a way in. Humans will have made a way out.”

Cups, she was determined. “Killing her wouldn’t be justice,” said Magdala.

Mei’s brow furrowed. “What is justice?”

Magdala’s mouth fell open. “It’s-”

“Was it justice that took Mama and Baba away?” Mei’s eyes flicked to Mrs. Momin. “If so, then justice is death and I can give it to her. Move.”

Magdala swayed. “I...” What could convince her? Was there anything that could? “I still don’t think you should kill her.” Magdala grabbed her cloak and spread her arms, fully blocking the hunter’s view of Mrs. Momin.

“It would be so boring to die like this,” said Momin.

Magdala tossed a glare over her shoulder. The merchant and spy was stretching her shoulders, looking for all the world like a woman getting ready for a bracing jog.

Mrs. Momin bent over a touched her toes. “Is your brother worth it, Mei? After shooting Long, hunting dragons, dodging the Empire, is he worth it?”

Mei let out a cry and rushed forward, shoving her weapon past Magdala, but Magdala grabbed the end of it and pushed it up. “No, don’t listen to her,” she said.

“Is this Souran really your friend Mei? She doesn’t seem to know you very well.”

“I could let her shoot you,” Magdala snapped.

“Yes, you could.” Mrs. Momin sounded confused. “Why won’t you?”

Mei tried to pull her weapon free. “Maggie, let go.”

“No.” Magdala fought to keep Mei from aiming at the Mrs. Momin. “She’s a spy and maybe even a traitor, but right now we need her. Why are you trying to kill Huan?” Magdala asked Mrs. Momin. “Why not just take the mask from him?”

Mrs. Momin said nothing as Magdala continued to struggle with Mei.

“Momin!” shouted Magdala.

“Shh, young Gallus, I’m trying to weigh how much I can tell you.” The spy sighed. “You’ve seen two masks now. Do you have any idea what they are?”

“Some sort of… bound magic.” Magdala held on to Mei’s weapon for dear life. The hunter was far stronger than her. “Tuqu is famous for stuff like that.”

“Was famous. These masks are the only things left, the only bound objects we’re allowed to produce. As such, it’s a matter of pride for us. By Imperial Order, we’re to find unauthorized users of the masks, kill them then destroy the masks they hold.”

Mei stopped fighting Magdala and stared. “You don’t want the mask?”

“No, we don’t.” Mrs. Momin reached over to stretch her right side. “We were only keeping it around in honor of the last Tiger, who died saving the emperor; they aren’t designed to be worn by more than one person. I’m surprised that your brother has stayed sane this long.”

“Then why haven’t you attacked Huan yet?” Magdala kept her eyes on Mei, who seemed stunned. “You’ve been traveling with us for days.”

Mrs. Momin stretched her other side. “I’m a merchant. I have to consider my position here in Soura.” She pointed up. “Those guards? Mine. That palanquin? Mine. This fabulous robe? Mine. None of it was handed to me by the Empire. What does that tell you about me, young Gallus?”

Magdala’s eyes widened. “You’re not from Tuqu. You’re Souran.”

“To be precise, I’m half Tuqu on my mother’s side.” The spy rolled her head from side to side. “However, I did inherit my duty to Tuqu. I have to ensure that Imperial interests are honored.”

“And you don’t think killing Huan serves those interests?” Magdala thought about it. “Because you want something else.”

Mrs. Momin grinned. “Oh, your mother has underestimated you. It’s too bad that the Gallus family is off limits. Yes, I am actually here for two other reasons: one, to find out what your uncle was doing and two to recruit her.” She pointed to Mei.

Recruit Mei? Why? Magdala glanced down at the answer. “You want this.”

“More importantly, I want its wielder,” said Mrs. Momin. “Mei, darling, I want you. Join me and I can free your brother of that mask and bury that murder charge of his.”

Huan had a murder charge? Magdala shook her head. No, not important. “Join you and what?” Since Mei wasn’t trying to take aim anymore, Magdala tentatively let go of her weapon. “Become an assassin?”

“Oh, I think she’d be an excellent assassin.” Mrs. Momin reached out her hand to Mei. “But this is about you, Mei. What do you want?”

***

The morning before he’d stolen Tiger, Mei had caught her brother mid-preparation and asked him where he was going. He’d packed new climbing nails, double-checked his notes, placed a strange glass ball into his pack, and then he’d lied. “I’m going on an errand.”

With that, he’d left their little fireworks shop, sliding the door shut behind him. Because Huan was a good liar, good enough to hide how he got the money for their meals, for the shop, for the esoteric ingredients required to make fireworks, Mei had only caught him lying once before: the day their parents had died. Before that day, she’d believed him when he’d said that their parents going to be fine, nodded when he’d said that the trial would go their way, smiled when he’d said he’d bring her to the magistrate’s house on the day Mama and Baba would be set free.

But the day their parents were executed for treason, when Huan had said that they had been merely exiled, he’d failed to meet her eyes, and Mei had realized that that their parents were dead. She’d lied back to him, pretended that she believed him, ignored his tears when they’d hugged, and said nothing before sneaking out of the house and going to the town square. She’d looked up and saw Mama and Baba’s empty eyes gazed down on her from spears. She hadn’t cried then because all her tears had been swallowed by the gaping hole that her mom’s soft words and her father’s rough pats used to fill.

Huan had said, “I’m going on an errand” and then failed to look her in the eye, so she gave him a head start, packed her brightest fireworks, and followed him.

***

With her heart pounding in her ears, Mei couldn’t hear Rabbit’s question. It didn’t help that the otter was still out there, waiting for its next chance to strike. Right now she should be on the hunt, trying to track it down, but Rabbit was here and why couldn’t Rabbit didn’t just destroy the mask and leave Mei and her brother alone?

“Mei, are you okay?” asked Maggie.

Finally, the mage had released her rifle. Time to end this.

Mei took four steps back and brought her rifle to bear on Rabbit, but again Maggie got in the way.

Mei found herself panting. “Move!”

Maggie shook her head. “No.”

Rabbit smirked. “We’re not getting anywhere like this.”

Maggie glared back at her. “You, shut up!”

“Astonishing. You’ve reached the end of your arguments so soon.” Rabbit’s hand blurred.

An attack? Mei charged forward, sidestepped Maggie’s attempt to tackle her, aimed her rifle at Rabbit’s forehead, and pulled the trigger. The rifle’s hammer came down on its firing pan with an audible click.

Nothing happened.

“By the cup, Mei, stop!” Maggie grabbed Mei and pulled her away from Rabbit. “Oh… it didn’t fire.”

Mei stared at her rifle, the one her mother had made for her, the one thing that had never failed her. Then she remembered. It was unloaded. Because of the water and the otter and Rabbit, Mei’s rifle was nothing more than an ornate stick. It hadn’t fired and she’d…

She’d wanted it to fire, to kill Rabbit.

What was she doing?

Maggie tugged the rifle out of Mei’s hands. “What were you thinking?”

“S-she was going for her mask.” Mei looked up. No, Rabbit had merely hooked her thumbs into her sash. She hadn’t been readying an attack. Mei let out a pained squeal. What was she doing? Her fear had turned an innocent action into a setup for an attack. She hadn’t even given Rabbit, no Momin, the opportunity to back off like she’d given the grimbear. Shaking, Mei sank to the floor.

Momin stepped forward, but Maggie put up a hand. “No. You stay there.”

Momin’s hands came up. “As you wish.”

Maggie knelt, and gingerly took Mei’s hands in her soft and warm ones, the kind of hands that had never had to chop wood for fires or carry heavy buckets of water for miles or climb trees to escape from scavengers.

Mei’s stomach roiled. What if the rifle had been loaded? Someone would have been dead; either Momin or the owner of these hands. If Maggie had died, would Mei have had to explain to Lord Kalan how she’d shot his niece? If Momin had, would her guards avenge their master’s death? Maggie was right. Mei hadn’t thought it through.

“Hey.” Maggie squeezed Mei’s hand. “Have... have you ever killed anyone before?”

Mei shook her head. When Maggie let out a breath, Mei’s heart fell a little. She’d caused Maggie stress.

“My father has.” Maggie sat down next to Mei. “He’s the Lord Commander now, but before that he was a knight, and before that he was a squire.”

“Like Nathan?” Mei asked.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like him, but like actually gallant. Back then, there was this bandit named Nilo, who was robbing estates and letting his men ravage homes and farms, just the worst kind of vagabond. At the time, my father served Sir Rutters, that’s Nathan’s great-uncle, who’d been given a small company of men and a mission: bring Nilo to justice.”

Mei tensed. That word again.

The corners of Maggie’s lips quirked. “My father hates riding. He said if he had his choice of Qe magic, he’d choose Earth just so that he could move fast and keep both feet on the ground.”

“Earth… Like Lord Kalan?” asked Mei.

Maggie laughed. “Yeah, like my lord uncle, though I don’t think anyone’s ever described him as fast. Anyway...” She cleared her throat. “They rode out to find down Nilo and his bandits. After days of following Nilo’s trail of destruction and suffering, my father asked Sir Rutters why Nilo did it, why he hurt people. The knight just shook his head and said, ‘We’re not here for why, son.’

“They finally caught up to the bandits just as the bastards were fleeing north, and Sir Rutters ordered a standard pincer attack: he and half the company would charge the bandit camp while my father and the rest of the company lay in wait on the other side. It worked. The dual attacks routed the bandits. Some of them begged for mercy, but not Nilo. He saw my father and charged.

Maggie looked up at the ceiling. “He, my father, never talks about the fight itself. I know he’s a good swordsman, and old Rutters always said that he never shirked training, but all Father says is ‘I survived. That’s all there is.’

“He always tells me and my brother this next part though.

“After he won, my father stood over Nilo, who started to beg for his life. He said that he’d lost his farm to a bad harvest, his wife to disease, his child to the mines, and hearing that my father hesitated. But then he recalled that Nilo had destroyed farms, killed wives, orphaned children, and before Sir Rutters could stop him, Nilo’s head was rolling on the ground.”

“He was a bad man.” Mei’s voice sounded distant even to her. “He deserved justice.” Her parents watched her from atop Imperial spears.

Maggie shook her head. “He didn’t deserve that. My father says it still haunts him, not bringing the man to trial. He says he doesn’t remember Nilo’s victims, just his corpse. He says he had a choice not to kill Nilo and chose wrong.”

Mei curled up. “She won’t stop.” Her voice was soft. “They won’t stop.”

“No, they won’t, but,” Maggie squeezed Mei’s hands, “we’ll figure out something.”

“Are you done?” Momin was tapping her foot. “Can we look for a way out now?”

Mei examined the spy, this time without fear and anger clouding her eyes. Momin’s eyes were always on the shadows, her left hand kept edging towards her mask, and she winced when she shifted her weight onto her right foot. Apparently, kicking the ice pillar had not been the wisest choice. And Momin was nervous.

Still, Maggie was right. They couldn’t do this without her.

Mei pulled her hands free from Maggie’s and stood up. “I need powder and bullets.” When Maggie’s breath caught, Mei patted the Souran mage on the head to calm her. “Not for her. For the otter.”

Scowling, Maggie tried and failed to smooth her hair. “In that case,” she pulled various mixtures out of her cloak, “We need a plan.”

Momin gave them a look. “I’m guessing an execution is no longer part of the plan?”

“No, we need you to keep it busy.” Mei inspected her rifle. “It’s smart and this is its home. We can’t let it catch its breath.”

“And what will you two be doing while I draw its attention?”

“I’ll shoot it.”

“And her?” Momin pointed to Maggie.

Mei glanced at Maggie. “Does your magic work on water?”

Maggie’s eyebrows lifted. “Pardon?”

“Does your magic work on water?”

The mage laughed. “I’m a liquid-based alchemist.”

Mei blinked. “Does that mean yes?”

Maggie sighed. “Yes, it means yes. Why?”

Mei raised her rifle. “Because you’ll handle the doors.”