When I entered the Dripping Knife, an older woman greeted me instead of the young man I’d seen before. The woman was tall, only a couple inches shorter than me, and looked like she’d once been heavily muscled but let some of it soften over time. Scars lined her forearms, and one angry, red line creased her face, just missing her left eye as it went from her forehead to her cheek. As I entered, she stopped what she was doing and lifted a hand to point at me.

“You,” she said in a deep, somewhat gravelly voice. “Are you the one with that cairnik that was here earlier?”

“More or less,” I nodded to her. “Is that a problem?”

“It might be,” she growled, holding up her left arm. “Cairnik gave me these, once upon a time in the Fellwood. You can imagine I don’t much fancy them anymore.”

I walked over to her, examining her scars closely. “You used to be a soldier of some kind, didn’t you?” I asked her with a smile.

“Third Legion, Sixth Division, First Brigade,” she replied promptly. “Served for twenty-two years.”

“Impressive,” I nodded. “I’m betting that means, though, that you got the rest of those scars from other omeni, right? Do you have a problem with them, too?”

She snorted. “Mostly, yeah. There are a few good ones, though.”

“Well, Vikarik is one of the good cairniks,” I grinned at her. “She won’t hurt anyone who doesn’t try to hurt us, and she won’t make a mess in the room or destroy the furniture. You have my word as a fellow soldier.”

She snorted again and looked me up and down. “Soldier? You? With that little knitting needle? I don’t think so.”

“It’s not my preferred weapon,” I admitted, touching the hilt of my pistol. “I prefer firearms, but I’m a fair hand with the war axe, as well. Much better for chopping off limbs–and heads.”

She eyed me appraisingly, and I saw her balance shift slightly. That gave me plenty of warning so that when her left hand snapped out, aiming a slap toward my face, I had no problem snatching her wrist and twisting it, forcing her to bend forward and locking her arm straight. I gave her a gentle push as I released her hand, making her fall back a step and taking her out of range. She straightened and shook her hand, looking at me appraisingly.

“Huh,” she grunted. “Word might be worth something after all. Silver would be better, though.”

I produced a silver coin and held it up in two fingers. “Call it a security deposit,” I said. “When Vikarik doesn’t do anything to damage your place, you give it back. Deal?”

“Not in the slightest,” she shook her head. “That coin’ll make up for business I’m losing by having your animal in my place. You give it to me, or the creature sleeps in the stables, take it or leave it.”

“Fine,” I sighed, flipping her the coin. “Are we good, now?”

“For the moment,” she grunted. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Ionat. And you are?”

“Atanasia, but people around here call me Atana. Atana the Knife.” She gestured, and a wicked dagger appeared in her hand, gleaming in the firelight bathing the room. “Cause any trouble, and you’ll get to know why I’m called that.”

I just looked at her steadily. “I have no plans to cause trouble, Atana. Of course, if I did, I’m not sure how smart you’d be bringing a knife to a gunfight.” I touched the pistol at my hip once more, not bothering to draw it. I didn’t want to get into a real pissing match with the woman, I just wanted her to know I wasn’t intimidated by her little display.

She grunted noncommittally, then gestured again, and the knife disappeared just as quickly–which wasn’t quite fast enough for me to miss her slipping it into a hidden sheath on her forearm. “Let’s hope we don’t have to find out,” she said simply.

“I’ll agree with you there,” I nodded. “I’m heading up to my room, in case my companion or our servants are looking for me.”

“Go on,” she waved, turning away from me.

I headed upstairs and found our room, looking around it for the first time. It was serviceable without being fancy. The bed was solid, the mattress only slightly soft. A basin stood in one corner with a bucket of water beside it, obviously meant for washing hands and faces, while a chamber pot beneath the bed provided a way for us to take care of other necessities. The only other furnishing was a dark wooden chair that stood beside the slightly dirty window. I examined the sill, happy to see that it had a solid lock, as did the door.

I moved the chair away from the window, keeping it in the waning sunlight but out of sight of anyone who might be walking below or in a neighboring building, then sat down and closed my eyes. “Okay, how should we do this?”

“Let’s think about what we want to achieve a bit,” Sara replied, appearing in front of me and tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Describe what you’re imagining to me.”

“Well, there are a few ways to hide from someone or something,” I replied. “The first is the obvious one: make it so they can’t see you by putting something between yourself and the observer.”

“Like shielding yourself from the spell,” she mused. “You could do that, of course. There was a spell in Viora’s book that created a shield against lunar raju, and the Razvaraji demonstrated a more powerful version of the same thing. It wouldn’t be hard to adapt one with your twilight magic that protected against lunar and solar spells and might even help against physical attacks to some extent.” She made a face. “I’m not sure if it would help against the wards, though. If the wards work by physically holding you out, they’d hold out your shell just as easily. It would keep any defenses from harming you, but it wouldn’t give you access–and it would set off any alarms linked to the wards.”

“It still might be worth creating, just for the shielding effect,” I pointed out. “The next way to hide is to make it so the observer can’t see anything, period, like turning out all the lights or blinding them.”

“To do that, you’d probably have to eliminate all raju in an area, John.” She sighed. “And I haven’t quite worked out how to do that. I’ve been studying the golost adaptation of your hatchet, but I can’t figure out how it works. It’s like it channels a totally different type of raju, one that I’ve never seen before. I’m sorry.”

“What, you’re sorry that you don’t know everything about this world?” I chuckled. “You know way the hell more than I do.” I paused for a moment, considering using the hatchet to simply cut through the wards protecting the Archives, but after a brief thought, I tossed the idea. That might still constitute tripping the alarms, but even if it didn’t, it would be obvious that someone had come through the wards. The whole point was to investigate without letting anyone know I’d been there, after all.

“Okay, there’s one more option: hiding in plain sight. If you make yourself blend into the background, someone looking for you will see you but never realize that they have. Is there a way we could just cause the wards to pass over us without realizing that we’re there?”

“Well, there’s nothing like that in the Sorvaraji’s spell book–probably because she had no real reason to do anything like that–but I’ll bet between us, we could come up with something. Let’s start with the shield first; it’ll be a lot easier, since it’s just an adaptation of an existing spell.”

The shield was simple enough to fashion, just as Sara suggested it would be. The spell-form was pretty basic; all I had to do was envision my raju swirling in a disc in front of me. The initial spell used only solar raju, which felt unstable and far too bright, as if I’d have trouble looking at it if I created it, so I dimmed it a bit with lunar raju until it seemed comfortable. When I cast the spell, it formed a sort of distortion in the air in a circle about a yard across. I could move the circle wherever I wanted, although it floated pretty slowly, so I’d need to be smart about casting it, since I doubted I’d be able to move it fast enough to cover more than one direction in a fight. It also didn’t let any magic through, not even my own. I’d need to practice with it to figure out the best way to use it, since it hampered me as much as it did an enemy.

Spell Created: Twilight Shield

Raju Required: 13 Solar, 7 Lunar (Death)

You create a mobile shield of raju that reduces the damage from incoming magical attacks by a base of 100%. More powerful spells or armor-piercing abilities will penetrate the shield but may have reduced effectiveness. The shield loses 1 point of raju per 10 points it blocks and loses 5% of its effectiveness per point of raju lost. When the shield drops to 0%, it is destroyed.

The second spell wasn’t quite so easy to work out, though. My idea was to weave a blanket-like covering that I hoped would muffle my presence, but the spell-form simply wouldn’t stabilize. The shroud I created unraveled quickly, no matter how I tried to hold onto it or even it out. After the third attempt, the backlash had my head pounding, and I grumblingly abandoned the idea for the time being.

“I’m not sure why it didn’t work, John,” Sara said with a sigh and a discontented expression. “Theoretically, it should have. I think we’re missing something, and until we figure out what it is, we’re not going to be able to balance that spell. Maybe we can try something else…”

“Maybe, but not right now, Sara. I need a break,” I cut her off, then winced. “Sorry, my head’s just killing me, and I’m feeling a bit irritated by the whole thing.”

“I understand, John. The headache should go away quickly enough if you just don’t use any magic for a while. In the meantime, we can think of other methods to try, since that one’s clearly not working.”

“When my head’s feeling better,” I hedged. “I’m not up for much thinking right now, sorry.”

“Not a problem,” she smiled at me.

Renica returned shortly after, her face as unhappy as I thought mine probably was. I forced my eyes back open and sat up from where I’d been resting on the bed as she plunked heavily in the wooden chair. “Rough day?” I asked simply.

“I–I don’t like this place, Ionat,” she sighed heavily, leaning her head against the wall.

“What happened?”

“Nothing terrible, but…” She shook her head. “Melania took me to a fletcher’s shop. The man there wanted to sell me warped bolts for at least three times what they were worth–and he knew exactly what he was doing! I could feel the greed in him; it was disgusting.”

“So, you didn’t end up getting anything?”

“From there? Of course not. I had Melania show me to an open market where I could buy what I needed myself.” She opened her pack and pulled out a handful of straight, smooth sticks. “I got shafts, bolt heads, and feathers. With those, I can make my own bolts, and they’ll be much better than the ones at that ridiculous shop.”

“You can make your own bolts?” I asked in surprise.

“Of course,” she snorted. “Borava was in the middle of the Darkwood, Ionat. How else could I replace bolts when I ran low? Cosmina or Florentin would take some of the darkwood branches and fashion shafts, while Adrian would make me new heads in the forge. I’d put them together myself.” She pulled out one of her bolts and twirled it in her fingers. “When you live in a village like that, you have to learn how to do a little bit of everything, or nothing ever gets done.”

“That makes sense,” I grunted. My headache had mostly faded by that point, but I still felt frustrated by my lack of progress with bypassing the wards. I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax. There was no point in taking my failings out on her, after all.

“It wasn’t so easy to get to…” She stopped and looked around the room meaningfully. “Where you were going after all, then?”

“No, getting there was easy,” I sighed. “It’s getting there without letting everyone know about it that’s hard. There are alarms everywhere, and I’m sure there are more inside the place. I’m trying to work out a way to get in without telling half the city about it.”

She shrugged. “There has to be a way,” she said simply.

“That’s awfully optimistic of you,” I snorted, then grimaced guiltily. “Sorry. I’m just frustrated.”

“I wasn’t being optimistic,” she replied, her voice firm. “There has to be a way in and out. Otherwise, how do the people who are supposed to be there get inside? They can’t set off those alarms every time they go to eat or use the bathroom, can they?”

I stared at her, then slapped my hands to my face and groaned. “How the hell did I miss that?” I said, falling back onto my bed. Obviously, every security system had a bypass, from motion detectors to a tripwire attached to a bell, to allow those who belonged in the secure area to get in and out without setting off the alarms. I just needed to figure out how the people who were supposed to be in the Archives got inside without raising a fuss. With that information, I wouldn’t need a special spell.

“You’ve probably never set trap lines,” Renica grinned at me. “When I set a string of traps for vulpiks or iupaks, I have to leave myself a way into and out of the traps without setting them off or leaving my scent behind. It’s the same idea, really.”

“It is,” I agreed. “I just need to go back there and watch to see how they get in and out…”

I froze as a heavy fist pounded on the door three times. “Open up!” a rough but familiar voice called out.

I grabbed a pistol and touched the hatchet at my side, then glanced at Renica. She nodded to me and grabbed her crossbow, stepping to the side so that the door wouldn’t block her as I opened it. I went to the door and unlocked it, then pulled it open to reveal Atana standing before me, her face set in a scowl.

“You have a visitor,” the woman growled. “Downstairs. Get down there.”

I blinked in surprise. “A visitor?” I echoed. “I don’t know anyone in this city, Atana.”

“Well, she knows you. She asked for you by name. So come down.”

Suspicion swelled within me. “She?” I asked. “Why couldn’t she come upstairs to me?”

Atana’s face darkened even more. “I don’t question a Sorvaraji when she’s standing in my inn demanding that I ‘fetch’ one of my own customers,” she said darkly, her body tensing. “I’m not going to let that same customer question me about it, either. Are you coming, or do I have to drag you downstairs?”

I stared at her for long moments, forcing myself to stay calm and relaxed, watching her eyes and seeing the irritation in them. I could practically feel her frustration, but I simply stood quietly. I’d known plenty of people like Atana; she wasn’t really a bully, but she was used to barking orders and intimidating people. I’d seen plenty of sergeants like that back in the army. If I started responding to it, it would just get worse. As a grunt, I’d had no choice but to take it; now, I didn’t have to. At last, she grunted and took a step back.

“Should I tell her you aren’t coming?” she asked.

“No, I’ll be right down. Just let me grab my things.”

“Good.” She turned and stalked away, and I closed the door.

“A Sorvaraji?” Renica said, her voice hopeful. “Do you think…?”

“No,” I shook my head. “Viora would have come upstairs to us; she wouldn’t have sent someone to ‘fetch’ us. I’m guessing this is about the note from her to the Pretmaraji here. I had Ferka deliver it.” I frowned slightly. “I hope it didn’t get him in trouble.”

Renica shook her head. “He was waiting outside when Melania and I got back. The two of them went off somewhere–probably to get something to eat.”

“That’s something, at least.” I quickly slipped my pistol belt on and attached my rapier to my hip.

“Are you worried?” Renica asked a bit nervously.

“Not worried. Just–cautious. Something odd is happening here, and I’m pretty sure the Cathedral is the center of it.”

“Do you think the Pretmaraji is involved? The Sorvaraji said we could trust him.”

“I know someone in a position of authority is, and I’ll bet Viora hasn’t as much as spoken to the man in decades. People can change.”

We headed downstairs, and I paused at the doorway leading into the common room. I spotted the Sorvaraji instantly, of course. Her golden robe proclaimed her identity pretty clearly, as did the subtle but noticeable circle of empty tables surrounding her. Her dark brown hair fell past her shoulders but looked slightly unkempt, as if she hadn’t bothered to brush it, and her robe looked faintly wrinkled and stained even from a distance. Her pale, moon-shaped face had a dark smudge on one cheek, and while she held her chin almost imperiously high, I saw the way her hands twitched and shifted, nervously playing with a fold of her robe. This was a woman who was trying hard to be intimidating–and wasn’t very good at it.

“Sorvaraji?” I said, coming down the stairs and walking toward her. She rose quickly to her feet, clutching her robe in both hands, then seemed almost to flinch as she realized how eager she must have looked.

“Yes,” she said, once again lifting her chin. “You must be Ionat, then. I am Sorvaraji Ilinca de Mihabag, First Assistant to Pretmaraji Nandru. Moon’s Truce be upon you.”

“Moon’s Truce, Sorvaraji,” I replied, sensing the spell wrapping around me but once again severing it before it could take hold.

The woman frowned slightly as if disturbed by something but shook her head and looked at Renica. “And you are?”

“Renica de Borava,” the hunter said automatically.

“Moon’s Truce, Renica de Borava.”

“Moon’s Truce, Sovaraji.” As Renica spoke the words, I saw the power of the spell reach out and enfold her. Part of me wondered if I could have stopped the spell from affecting her, as well, but I realized that right in front of a Sorvaraji I didn’t know probably wasn’t the best place to experiment. While the woman obviously didn’t know that I’d broken the Moon’s Truce spell, she sensed that I’d done something, and she’d probably get a better sense of it if I sent raju out toward Renica. I’d have to see if I could untangle the spell later instead.

“Um–should we sit?” Ilinca said hesitantly. “I mean–come, sit with me. The Pretmaraji asked me to speak with you.”

I refrained from rolling my eyes as I pulled out a chair while Renica took the one beside me. As she sat, Ilinca seemed to notice Vikarik for the first time, and her eyes widened. “That–is that a cairnik?” she gasped, leaning forward.

“Yes, Sorvaraji,” Renica smiled. “Her name is Vikarik.”

“It–she has a name?” The priestess shook her head. “I’ve never heard of one being so calm before. How are you restraining her?”

“I found her as a pup and raised her, Sorvaraji. She listens to me the way she would her mother, since I’m the closest thing she has to one.” Renica stroked the back of Vikarik’s neck as she spoke, and the huge canine lay down on the floor, her tongue lolling out in a relaxed fashion.

“That’s incredible,” Ilinca said wonderingly. “Do you think it’s something anyone could do? Would it work with something like a leurik, as well?” Renica hesitated, obviously torn between lying to a Sorvaraji and revealing her talent for beast magic, but I answered before she had to.

“Vikarik seems fairly special, Sorvaraji,” I lied easily. “Renica’s tried with other animals without success. It seems to be a feat that can’t be easily repeated, I’m afraid.”

The priestess nodded her head slowly. “I see. Even so, knowing that it’s possible is amazing.” She frowned and tapped her lip thoughtfully, speaking more to herself than us. “I wonder if there have been other similar cases. If there have, perhaps there’s a common thread between them, something that could be replicated.” She nodded once more. “I’ll have to look into it. It could be a fascinating area of study.”

“While that sounds interesting, Sorvaraji,” I interrupted her thoughts, “I doubt it’s why you’re here. I assume that has something to do with the note we sent to the Pretmaraji?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, seeming to rouse herself, her eyes focusing from their introspective look. “Pretmaraji Nandru received your message, and while he wishes to offer you every assistance, you can see how his direct aid would be impossible.”

“Not particularly,” I said mildly. “Mind explaining why that is?”

She looked at me, her face surprised. “Do you not know who Pretmaraji Nandru is?” she asked curiously. I shook my head, and her eyes grew suspicious. “Why are you seeking his help if you don’t know who he is?”

“A friend of ours, Sorvaraji Viora de Pettag, gave us the introduction letter and told us to seek him out,” I explained. “Apparently, she was one of the Pretmaraji’s students, once.”

She nodded slowly, the suspicion fading slightly from her face. “I don’t know this Sorvaraji, but Pretmaraji Nandru has instructed thousands of students over the years. Why would she send you to him, though?”

“As I said, I don’t even know who he is, so there’s no way I can answer that question, I’m afraid.”

“Pretmaraji Nandru is the Master of the Sun’s Fires for the Cathedral of Mihabag,” she replied. I stared at her blankly, waiting, and apparently, she realized that I had no idea what that meant. “The Master of the Sun’s Fires is in charge of defending the Cathedral–and the city of Mihabag–from the moons’ depredations.”

“By himself?” Renica asked in an awed tone.

“Well, no, of course not,” Ilinca chuckled. “Even with the entire Cathedral’s reserves, he doesn’t have the power to do that. He commands the Orders of the Razvarajis and Vanatori. He trained most of them himself, in fact.” She shrugged. “However, with the close moon of Sangue only several nights away, he’s far too preoccupied with the city’s defenses. Instead, he sent me to assist you however I could.”

“That was generous of him,” I replied, suppressing a sigh at the thought of working with this woman who was trying so hard to seem authoritative.

“Yes, it was.” She straightened. “So, what assistance do you need?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure, just yet. We only arrived in the city today, after all. Did the Pretmaraji share the contents of the letter with you?”

“Of course. How could I help you if I don’t know the situation?” Her face softened slightly as she turned toward Renica. “My condolences for the loss of your village. No one should have to suffer such a fate, especially not at the hands of the moon-cursed.”

“Thank you, Sorvaraji,” Renica said quietly, her eyes downcast.

“Of course.” She looked back at me. “It seems to me that what you need most is information. According to the letter, there were certain irregularities about the attack, is that correct?”

“More or less,” I hedged.

“Then I can help you. As First Assistant to the Pretmaraji, I have access to most of the Cathedral’s research.”

“You can get into the Archives?” I asked incredulously, not believing my luck.

“No, of course not,” she snapped, dashing my hopes instantly. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. “Only Archivists can access that. However, I can send them a request for information if you let me know what you’re interested in learning. I can also requisition supplies and introduce you to others in the Cathedral who might be able to help.” She reached into her robe and pulled out a gleaming disc that blazed with solar raju in my sight. The golden disc had an image of a ball of flame resting in an open palm embossed on one side in exquisite detail.

“This is an access token,” she said, placing it on the table and sliding it toward me. “It will allow you passage through the wards keeping commoners out of the Chapel of the Sun’s Fires, where my office is. Once you know what you need, come to my office, and I’ll be happy to help you.”

I picked up the coin and stared at it for a moment as my brain reeled in sudden realization.

“Um, how can we find your office, Sorvaraji?” Renica spoke as my silence seemingly lasted a bit too long.

“Just ask in the nave, and they’ll direct you.” The Sorvaraji stood and nodded at both of us. “I’ve got much to do, and I’ve honestly spent more time here than I intended. Please feel free to reach out to me once you have a better idea of your needs.”

“Of course, Sorvaraji,” I said, pocketing the disc with a smile. “And thank you for your help. I’m sure it’ll be invaluable.”

“Yes, it will,” she agreed, turning and walking away from the table.

“Do you really think she’ll be helpful, Ionat?” Renica asked doubtfully. “She seems a little…uncertain.”

“She’s already been helpful, Renica,” I grinned at the woman. “Thanks to her, I think I know how to get where we need to go. If I’m right, she’s already been of more use than I would have ever expected her to be.”