Standing in an actual armory filled with swords, hammers, and dozens of other weapons, Magdala knew she was in heaven. She picked up a stout wooden shaft with a spiked iron ball and chain hanging off it and gave it a swing, compelling the iron ball to arc down, around, and up back towards her face.

Taylor caught it right before it hit. "Every time I see someone use a flail they end up with a broken nose. Every time. I thought you knew weapons, milady."

Ears reddening, Magdala set the flail back on the rack. "Well, it's probably effective once you get a hit in. If you don't..."

"Broken nose for sure. What do you think, Mei?" Taylor looked around. "Mei?"

Magdala and Taylor looked at each other then split up to search the armory. While checking each aisle, Magdala walked past shelves full of spears and pikes, noting the plain and competent construction of each weapon. These wouldn't win any beauty contests, but they wouldn't break either. She'd resolved to spend the rest of her life here when she found Mei at the back of the shop, surrounded by soot-streaked weapon smiths who were all marveling at the rifle. Mei's gaze looked cloudy as if she couldn't focus on what was happening. Pursing her lips, Magdala rushed forward.

"See how the trigger mechanism strikes the flint and sets off the powder in the pan?" A stout, blonde-haired smith peered at Mei's rifle with her magnifying glass. "Clever stuff."

A burly smith sized Mei up. "She's from Tuqu, right? They came up with the crossbow trigger after all."

A third smith shook his head, rubbing his soot gray beard. "Naw, it was them Wesen chaps. Can we keep this for study?" He reached for Mei's rifle.

The hunter recoiled, clutching her rifle to her chest.

The old man's hand didn't stop. "Ah come on-"

"Enough." Magdala knocked the hand away and stood beside her friend.

The old man sneered. "Who're you?"

When Magdala flashed her ring, all but one of the smiths stepped back.

The old man bowed. "Ah, so sorry, milady."

"You lot get back to work," said the blonde smith, the only one who hadn't stepped back. "Enough gaping. We've got orders to fill." After the other smiths disappeared into the forge, she addressed Magdala. "I heard you went up to Walcrest with your uncle. What are you doing down here with us common folk?"

Magdala raised an eyebrow. "You are?"

"Allison Langseth, Guildmaster, milady." Langseth drew close, her lips curled. "Is it nice up there, right up next to the wall? I've never been."

Magdala raised her chin. "It's nice enough."

"There you are!" Taylor emerged from the shelves, patted Mei on the shoulder, and then looked between Langseth and Magdala. "What's going on?"

Langseth grinned. "Oh ho ho, Swordbreaker returns!" She pulled Taylor into a bear hug.

When both Magdala and Mei gave her quizzical looks, Taylor blushed. "It's just a nickname."

Langseth released the corporal. "You were supposed to stop by for that refitting. What have you been up to instead?"

Taylor pointed a thumb at Magdala. "Helping milady with her mission and... recovering. From the incident."

Langseth's grin faded and she nodded. "Yeah, that was rough stuff. I'm glad you came out of it with all your bits. What are you doing with a noble and a foreigner?"

Taylor glanced at Magdala, who sighed. "We're looking for something." She patted her pockets. "Where is that vial?"

Mei stepped forward and said quietly, "I need an axe."

Vial forgotten, Magdala grabbed both of the hunter's hands and grinned. "By the cups, yes! That is far more important. Considering how you fought yesterday-"

"Right? She's a born axe fighter." Taylor ruffled Mei's hair.

"Well you came to the right place." Langseth grinned at Magdala who felt her face heat up. "Well well well, Lord Gallus's daughter is a weapons enthusiast. Like father, like daughter, eh?" She clapped Magdala on the back. "I like this one. Bring her around again, Saundra."

Taylor grinned.

"In that case," Langseth gave Mei a conspiratorial wink. "Taylor, show this young lady where we keep our finest wares. You've been here so many time, Swordbreaker, you should know where we keep the axes."

Taylor nodded, and she led a bemused Mei into the shelves.

Langseth turned to Magdala. "Saundra isn't easy to impress. If you want something special made just for your friend-"

"What did you have in mind?" Magdala leaned in.

Langseth winked. "I'll show you."

She led Magdala to the front of the shop, giving Magdala time to find the vial that she'd been looking for before and pull it out of her cloak.

Glancing at the stock on the shelves, Magdala frowned. "Mei is a hunter... Most of the stuff you make here is for soldiers, right?"

Langseth stepped behind the front counter. "They are our primary customers, and, because of your father and his fancy swordplay, the soldiers here don't go much for axes. Hammers sure, because not everyone's got the skill to handle a blade, but not axes."

Magdala tilted her head. "Hammers?"

Langseth's eyebrows came together. "Those things them Vanurian sorcerors make? The best way to stop them is to smash in their heads. You can try to cut them off, but if you don't swing right, your sword'll get stuck in their necks and then they'll be all over you like rust on iron. I fixed up the armor of the soldiers who survived that last attack, and I saw the teeth marks. Whatever those things are, they ain't right."

Magdala shivered but focused on the main question. "Mei needs a good axe, one she can use out in the forest, maybe even throw in a pinch. Do you have anything like that?"

Langseth sat down behind her counter. "What we have in stock will serve but..." She pulled a huge book out from under the counter, flipped through it, and showed Magdala a page. "Is this more what you had in mind?"

Perfect. It was made of a single piece of worked steel with a curved handle and some beveling to reduce weight and it was perfect. Although the design on the page was too long for Mei, Magdala could already see it in her friend's hands, and since the axe head couldn't break off, the weapon would last for a long time. If it was as balanced as it looked...

Magdala shook herself and looked up from the page.

Langseth's grin widened. "The last order of these I made was a matched pair for a wedding. For you, I'm thinking a trio."

Magdala frowned. "A trio?"

"One for your friend of course. That light in your eyes tells me it's perfect for her. And then one for you and one for Swordbreaker. A friendly trio of axes." Langseth winked.

Magdala blushed. "Would... would they take long to make?"

Langseth chuckled. "I have some advantages in that department." She pulled a glittering ring on a chain out from underneath her shirt collar. A single tall mount was etched on it, Cueller mountain.

Watching the ring twist on its chain, Magdala knew that it was made of an incredibly light metal that only Qe magic was able to extract from its ore. "You're a Qe mage. I'm nQe. I haven't graduated yet though."

Langseth's eyebrows shot up. "Really? nQe? With your lineage? Wow."

Magdala hid her dismay with a cough. "So how long?"

"About a week if I have the time," answered Langseth, "longer if I don't. I expect we'll be getting a lot of orders soon. For some reason, Ole Harvey is biding her time for now, but she doesn't like sitting around waiting. She'll make her move soon."

"I agree." Magdala shut the book.

Mei, a small axe with a varnished wooden handle in her hands, walked up to the counter with Taylor in tow. After glancing at the book, she placed the axe on the counter. "This one."

Magdala inspected the weapon, which was fine. It wasn't beautiful, but the forge on the metal was good, and the tempered iron oak handle wasn't going to break anytime soon, and so, it was fine. Magdala tried to push the perfection of the other weapon out of her mind.

"How much?" Mei asked Langseth.

"5 counts." Langseth whisked the book back under the counter.

Taylor reached for her belt. "I'll pay."

Magdala stopped her. "No, I will." She took out her purse and counted out coins. "I have more money, and anyway this is my lord uncle's responsibility." He'd be paying for that perfect axe too. She put the money on the counter.

Taylor's face fell. "Oh, right."

Langseth slid the coins into her palm. "Since I anticipate further orders, I have something extra for you." After rummaging for a couple moments underneath the counter, she dropped three bronze medallions in front of them, each etched with an image of Cueller's Cup.

Taylor's eyes lit up. "I thought you sold all of these!"

Langseth leaned onto the counter. "These are the last ones. You want them?"

"Yes! How much?"

"6 earls each."

Taylor paid immediately and then handed one each to Magdala and Mei. "These are from when Langseth became Guildmaster."

Magdala rubbed the metal, and warmth flowed into her fingers. She nearly dropped it. "You made these with magic."

Langseth winked. "It's part of my guarantee." She gave a sly smile. "As for that other thing, you interested?"

"Yes, I am," said Magdala.

Taylor nudged Magdala with her elbow and Magdala felt her enthusiasm drain away. "Right, I have a question about something else." She produced the vial of diluted red ichor and uncorked it. allowing a sweet cloying scent to fill the air.

Gagging, the smith covered her nose. "Put that away." After Magdala had recorked the vial, she answered Magdala's unasked question. "That's Vanurian for sure. I visited a count back when I was an apprentice and the place was full of the stuff. I don't know how they make it and I don't want to know. You'll have to go to the Jungle to find out."

Magdala raised an eyebrow. "The Jungle? You mean the other side of the Southern Line?"

Mei shook her head. "There's one in the city." She tucked the axe into her belt. "I can take you there."

Taylor squirmed. "Ah, it's... not the best place for someone like you, milady."

Before Magdala could respond, Langseth asked, "Why do you even have that stuff?"

Magdala gave a quick curtsy. "I can't tell you, but thank you very much. I'll stop by later."

"You'd better bring that one next time," said Langseth, pointing to Taylor. "We have some weapons we'd like her to try out."

***

Burdensome contracts, idiotic squires, and inquisitive sisters forgotten, Huan chased the red flash and pickled scent of his prey down the alley but soon was forced to slow to sidling speed as the alley narrowed. Still, he thanked his luck. The alleys here were much cleaner than the ones in Anders, so he only smelled wood and rotten fruit instead of refuse and sewage. Pushing into an intersection, Huan finally caught sight of the target as it rounded the corner. He hesitated. It was the little girl from the shop, not the grey skinned assassin.

How did she hide her scent before?

Catch her!

Picking up speed, Huan followed her around the corner. Ahead of him, the little girl vaulted over a pile of empty crates, slid past a collapsed drunk, and then turned north at the next intersection. Growling, Huan crashed through the crates, tripped over the drunk, took the left, and met a beam of wood headed the opposite direction. The blow knocked Huan onto his ass, and pain addled his vision for a moment. Dropping the wood, the little girl kicked Huan in the chest once for good measure then booked it down the alley. Rubbing his forehead, Huan pulled himself to his feet and gave chase, following the scent of pickles over more crates and around more corners until he was out of the alley and in Walton's late morning crowd. The girl was gone, the funk and stench of civilization covering her scent as effectively as a blanket over a candle. Shoving his way into the crowd, Huan kept sniffing and searching. His hand inched to the mask hidden underneath his scarf. He jerked it away.

I can find her.

"No!" Huan's refusal only drew the occasional startled glance. Once they saw his armor, most of Walton's market crowd continued on, unperturbed, though some were alarmed at the idea of a Tuquese being in charge of their safety. Only two pairs of eyes narrowed in suspicion, those belonging to a pair of city guards leaning against the wall of a house.

Tiger's recommendation was succinct. Kill them.

Huan's jaw clenched. In the middle of the street in the middle of the day? We'll be swinging from a noose by tomorrow's end.

We can kill them and move on. Let's just grab what we want.

"No!"

The city guards stood up straight and approached.

"Are you okay?" asked one, her right hand clasping her sword hilt.

Huan tried a smile.

She recoiled.

Huan kept himself from wincing. "No, I'm good. I'm just running an errand and I, uh, had a bad breakfast."

They didn't believe him, but he wasn't really their problem yet.

Still, their hands didn't move from their weapons. "Do you need help getting back to the garrison?"

Just rip out their throats and move on.

"No, no, I'm good." Huan sniffed. A southerly wind had blown in. "Just gotta walk-" The smell of pickles cut through to man and beast. They were on the trail again. "Excuse me." Huan pushed away the city guards and ducked into another alley. His quarry was still heading northeast.

Towards the Jungle. How apt. Huh?

The smell had changed from the familiar tang of pickles to the rich flowery scent of ambersoul, the same stuff Dwayne used to make his strange spell vials.

Maybe this was how she'd hid her scent before, but this time she was in a hurry. Licking his lips, Huan followed this new smell through a half dozen alleys and right into a slum. Apparently, the town of Walton had three distinct sections: the posh wood and stone houses near the garrison occupied by pale Sourans like Magdala and Lord Kalan, the brightly colored tents set up around the town where the darker sort of Sourans lived, and, finally, in between the tents and the houses a bunch of wind beaten grey wooden buildings, the Jungle.

Huan slowed. Here everyone stared at him, wondering why a Souran soldier had charged into their midst. Stouter, shorter, and darker than any Souran Huan had met so far, the residents of the Jungle were dressed in colorful billowy sleeveless tunics that showed off shoulders, calves, and arms in ways that would make a Tuquese courtier blush. For a moment, he thought that they were all women, but then he saw a long, wavy haired man who was stripped to the waist, drawing water from a well while another person watched, their fingers playing with their short hair. Both froze when they saw him, the man shrinking back, his partner stepping in front of him.

A tingle ran up Huan's spine. They didn't see a Tuquese boy. They saw a Souran soldier.

Why were they so scared?

A person walked up to him, adjusting a light green, blue, and purple tunic that looked as if it could have been freshly pulled from the sea. Huan took in the beardless face and the folds of cloth covering the chest and gave up trying to guess their gender.

"Do you need help, soldier?" they asked.

Huan's eyebrows shot up, but he wrangled them back into place. He recognized the lilting, almost musical accent. These people were Vanurian.

Huan raised his chin and deepened his voice. "No, you can go about your business." Hopefully they would leave him alone if they thought he wasn't there for them.

The Vanurian's eyes widened for just a moment, but they nodded and stepped back. "Yes, yes, of course."

Slowly, the others returned to their work.

Huan's nose still had the little girl's strange scent, and so, with a swagger proclaiming that he owned the place, he followed it. After an hour of walking, the scent led him to a weathered house that could have doubled as an abandoned pile of wood. After looking around to see if anyone was looking, he dropped the act and oriented himself using the Southern Line. Currently, he was on the far northeastern edge of Walton, almost in the scrublands. More importantly, he was nowhere near the shop, which had been near the main road. Tapping his foot, Huan considered the building, which wasn't perfect, but was exactly the kind of shambles he'd choose to do clandestine business in. After all, the rest of Walton had guard patrols, and scared foreigners don't report anything. After one last check to see if the coast was clear, he snuck up to the house, pressed his ear against the door, slowed his breathing, and listened. Nothing. He sniffed then coughed as ambersoul and pickles punched through his senses. There was too much here for just the girl and Lord Kalan's attacker, but he was definitely on the right track.

Allowing himself a small smile, Huan slid around to the back of the house, not bothering with the locked front door. When he reached a window set low in the back of the house, he reached for his sword and cursed. It was still locked up in the garrison armory.

I'm going to steal it back the first chance I get.

It's a good blade. Slices well.

Ignoring Tiger and the unease growing in the pit of his stomach, Huan sidled up to the window and peeked in. The inside was dark with the light streaming from the window illuminating the wood floor. In the shadows beyond that bright bent rectangle, nothing moved. The unease sped up Huan's already pounding heart, but he'd already come this far, and so he opened the window and slipped in. He landed, and the floor creaked as loud as a shout. Freezing in place, Huan waited for discovery. When nothing happened, he sniffed. There's no smell of life here.

That thing did not smell like life.

Gulping, Huan took two deep breaths to slow his heart, eased the window closed, and padded deeper into the room, placing each of his steps on the quietest parts of the old floorboards. His eyes adjusted to the gloom.

If the house was a shambles on the outside, it was a dump on the inside, and it reminded Huan of Lord Kalan's tent before Dwayne's regular cleaning sessions. The house's floor plan was simple: a single room with a stove tucked into a corner, the remains of a bed tucked into another, a desk standing next to the door, a chair standing next to that, and three boxes of varying sizes near the far wall. Everything was buried in something, the stove under a pile of pots and glassware, the desk under a heap of books and pens, and the floor under tall stacks of discarded paper. Huan picked up a single sheet off a stack that came up to his chest and squinted to read it, but the characters, which were like Souran but had a more angular look to them, were completely indecipherable to him. Returning the sheet to its stack, Huan searched for his passport, but instead of his target, he found a map that depicted the jungle on the other side of the Southern Line and that was covered in red X's and unintelligible notes. Huan tsked, pocketed it, and then moved on to the boxes.

Two of them were rectangular with scratches and cracks like they'd been dropped from a great height and then dragged a long ways. The largest box was chained shut, but the medium sized one was open and full of old straw and some puffy stuff that looked like clouds brought down to earth. The third and smallest box had Tuquese characters painted on it.

Huan frowned. Fireworks?

Deciding not to puzzle that out, he left the boxes behind and approached the desk. Searching its drawers, he found a floor plan of Walcrest, again covered in unintelligible notes. This he recognized. This was a break-and-enter plan.

A key turned in the front door's lock and Huan froze. A shoulder thumped against the door, but the door resisted.

Lucky!

Huan scrambled away from the desk and dove behind one of the paper stacks, covering his mouth.

Behind him, the door burst open, and, after some grunting and another heavy thump, the door scraped closed. Someone sighed. Keeping his hand clamped over his mouth, Huan peeked out to see Lord Kalan's adversary.

Now sitting in the chair at the desk was a dark, wavy haired Vanurian, who was dressed in a rich tunic dyed with every shade of red, which looked out of place in the shabby surroundings. Their gender was a mystery, but regardless they didn't look strong enough to carry any of the boxes in by themselves. After relaxing in the chair for a bit, the Vanurian got to their feet, strode to the largest box and placed their hand on it. "Fo, Liraya."

The first syllable was familiar. Dwayne had said something about Fo magic.

Maybe the second word was their name? Sounds female.

The box popped open, revealing Lord Kalan's assassin. Huan swallowed a gasp. She was dead.

In repose, the assassin looked like a thin woman with straggly black hair and pale grey skin. She was dressed in a thin ashy version of the brightly colored tunics that living Vanurians wore, and her chest didn't move an inch, her closed eyelids didn't move with unknown dreams, and her hands hung limply at her sides.

The longer he looked, the more a scream tried to claw its way out of Huan's mouth. I gotta get away.

Unaware of Huan's rising horror, Liraya pulled a small metal case out of her tunic, opened it, and plucked out a needle and thread. Humming to herself, she started to sew up the cuts Huan's sword had inflicted on the assassin.

"HahahahaHAA!"

While Huan had a heart attack behind the paper stacks, the Vanurian abandoned her work, went to the desk, and pulled out a skull covered in arcane symbols out of the left drawer.

The skull spoke. "Liraya, imphum."

Despite his horror, Huan managed a smile. He'd been right. While Liraya gave her report to the skull in trilling lilting gibberish, Huan slid back to the window, his eyes darting between the Vanurian and the corpse, waiting to see if either would move. Reaching the window, he eased it open and turned to leave.

From outside the house, the little girl stared back at him through the window, her painted blue eyes widening. Before Huan could do anything, she screamed.

***

Magdala glared at the afternoon son, wishing that she had the confidence to wear the light tunics the Vanurians wore. She also envied their dusky skin; the day she showed that much skin was the day she found out how pretty she looked in red hair and skin.

When she caught Taylor gawking at a particularly comely resident, Magdala raised an eyebrow. "Enjoying yourself?"

The corporal flushed. "Just... making sure they don't have any weapons, milady."

"Right."

Mei pointed to a flower stall, her eyes sparkling. "Let's go there!"

Taylor shook her head. "Another one?"

Already, the hunter had dragged Taylor and Magdala into three shops in the Jungle. Even now Magdala was enjoying Mei's latest find, a curved fruit covered in chocolati sauce, which was an evil brew that Magdala couldn't get enough of. Taylor carried the other results of Mei's curiosity, a woven hand basket with a dozen brightly patterned scarves stuffed into it. Still, seeing Mei's unrestrained smile made Magdala smile too. She'd seemed down back in the town square.

Magdala and Taylor followed Mei to the flower stall, which was full of strange and wonderful blossoms of every shade and shape. Magdala guessed that they were probably from the other side of the Southern LIne.

Ignoring the bemused shopkeeper, Mei knelt to shove her face into a breathtaking bouquet of sunset orange and twilight blue flowers.

Magdala grabbed Mei's arm. "What are you doing?"

Mei came up for air, her nose covered in pollen. "Smelling the flowers."

Taylor cocked an eyebrow. "You sure you don't want to eat them instead?"

"They smell too good to eat." Mei dove back in.

Was Mei falling in love with Vanuria? Magdala patted her friend's back and turned to the shopkeeper. "Do you know this scent?" She pulled the vial out of her cloak and opened it, and the sweet smell overpowered the dozens of blossoms around them.

The shopkeeper jerked back. "That's not possible."

Magdala and Taylor looked at each other. That was the strongest reaction so far. The other shopkeepers had just shaken their heads and politely asked them to take their crazy Tuquese friend and leave.

Magdala leaned in. "What is it?"

The shopkeeper covered their mouth with their hand. "It's... I won't say. Go now. Leave."

"Is it a flower?" Mei stood up and wiped pollen from her nose. "You know what it is. The others didn't."

Realization shook Magdala. The other shopkeepers had been a fruit seller (where they'd gotten the tasty sauce-covered fruit), a weaver (where the scarves had come from), and a basket maker. Magdala had assumed that Mei had been shopping for souvenirs, but she'd been actually searching for the scent. Magdala's lips pursed. Sure, the fruit and basket sellers were obvious as their wares were particularly fragrant, but what about the weaver? Scarves weren't particularly fragrant, but... one had to dye them, dyes were frequently made from plants and animals, and there had been pots of the stuff lying in the back of that shop.

Turning to the flowers, Magdala recalled which elements comprised the red ichor. Yes, there was iron, but also the common elements of life, carbon, water, etc. She had guessed it was some sort of animal oil based on its usage, but with that scent, a flower made much more sense. Kneeling, she joined Mei in inspecting the plants, placing her hand on each blossum and muttering Nqeoum under her breath.

"Wh-what are you doing?" asked the shopkeeper.

Taylor stepped forward, her voice sharp. "She's under orders from Colonel Harvey of the Southern Line Garrison."

The shopkeeper quailed. "I haven't done anything. I just sell flowers. Good flowers."

Magdala peered at a crimson flower that formed the centerpiece of a fetching bouquet. Taking a flaky petal between her fingers, she whispered "Nqeoum" then sifted through the formula. She smiled. "This is the closest." She pulled the flower out of its bouquet and showed it to the shopkeeper.

On seeing it, blood rushed out of the shopkeeper's sun touched face. "No, no. Just please go. I won't say anything."

Taylor pulled out the bouquet that Mei had practically dived into. "I'd like to buy this for my mother with a little card to show how much I love her. What would be a good message to write on the card?"

The shopkeeper blinked. "I don't understand."

Taylor leaned in. "This is a beautiful bouquet." Her words tickled the shopkeeper's ear. "We're here to protect beauty like this."

The shopkeeper nodded. "Yes, yes, I understand."

Magdala straightened up, suddenly realizing she'd been leaning in to hear what Taylor was saying.

The corporal smiled and stepped back. "Good, I'll recommend this place to my regiment. Soldiers get all soft when it comes to their mothers. So, what's a good message to mine?"

The shopkeeper pulled pencil and paper out of her pocket and started to write. "My mother always wants to hear that her son is well. I assume yours is no different?"

Magdala frowned. "What's happ-"

Mei's elbow cut her off.

Taylor chuckled. "If she ever heard I'd gotten hurt, she'd fight old Gallus himself to take me home."

"Then she is a good mother." The shopkeeper held out the piece of paper to Taylor.

The corporal took the paper and the shopkeeper's hand, enveloping both with her own rough scarred hands. "Thank you."

Blushing, the shopkeeper pulled free and waved them away.

When Taylor picked up the bouquet and walked away, Magdala dropped a count on the stall and chased after her with Mei in tow.

"What just happened?" she asked Taylor.

Taylor waved the piece of paper the shopkeeper had given her and smiled.

Mei nodded. "She used words with two meanings."

Magdala raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Taylor grinned. "I did. You learn stuff like this when you're trying to sneak stuff by the quartermaster, milady."

"Oh, really?"

Taylor handed over the piece of paper. "You'll see. Read it."

Magdala looked at it and her mouth fell open. It wasn't a message to Taylor's mother. It was a map. "You've got to be kidding me. We literally walked into that place when we arrived."

Taylor glanced at the piece of paper. "Are you sure? It's not the best map."

Mei took a look. "There's only one Vanurian shop there. The rest are houses."

Magdala looked at the map again and made a decision. "Let's call it a day." She stowed the map in her cloak.

Taylor tilted her head. "What about the deadline, milady? We-"

"We have two more days." Magdala led the group back towards Walcrest. "That's plenty of time."

Mei gave her a look.

"What?" Magdala asked.

"Even the strongest star wolf travels in a pack," said Mei.

Magdala's chest tightened, but she ignored it. "Okay... We'll follow up on this tomorrow."

Taylor bowed. "As you say, milady. I'll escort you back to Walcrest."

Magdala let out a quiet breath and focused on what she was going to do next. After dinner, she'd sneak out and catch her lord uncle's assailant in the act. That way neither Mei nor Taylor would get hurt.