Dwayne shivered in his white shirt and short breeches as he stared out his bedroom window. Even through Bradford’s characteristic autumn drizzle, he could see across the street to another great old noble house, its flickering lamps silhouetting the forms of its servants while they bustled about helping the house’s children prepare for their governesses’ attention and the house’s adults prepare for their upcoming day.

That noise and life was absent from Sanford, the Kalan family house; only Dwayne and his steward Rodion lived within its walls. Everyone else had made other accommodations. Magdala was now rooming with an old friend of hers in the Magisterium dormitories, which meant that Dwayne now only met her under the watchful eye of her parents. Mei Dwayne did see everyday, but she and Huan lived downriver in an old rickety warehouse in the Bilges. When Dwayne had offered them rooms at Sanford, Huan had said, “I’ll guard this place. I won’t live in it.”

Rubbing his eyes, Dwayne tore himself away from the window and turned back to the cramped room where he practiced, studied, and, on occasion, slept. It had taken a full day’s work on his and Rodion’s part to reveal a four-poster bed, an ancient dark-wood desk, and a dusty carpet covered in pest leavings. Even after repairing and replacing what they could, the room’s dark blues and darker blacks forced Dwayne to augment the oil lanterns with his own magical flame just to be able to see all the corners. It was like this in every room in the house, which made it hard to begrudge Huan his sentiment. It didn’t really let Huan off the hook for constantly being tardy for guard duty though.

With a sigh, Dwayne went to the bed, where a thick weathered book and two small wooden crates lay on the comforter. The book, Na’cch, was a tome of unknown authorship and origin and Dwayne’s primary source of new Ri spells. It still pained him to leave it behind in his room, even though he knew the risks of casting Ri magic in public. Na’cch was the reason why Lord Kalan had taken Dwayne on as his apprentice; by extension, it was the reason why Dwayne was in Bradford and not on a Vanurian plantation. Unfortunately, because it was pretty strong evidence that Dwayne was a Ri mage and because Bradford played host to a diplomatic mission from the Ri Kingdom who would “repatriate” him given the chance, the book stayed here at Sanford. The risk outweighed Dwayne’s comfort.

As for the crates, they’d arrived three days ago from Walcrest and represented the only communication Dwayne had received from Lord Kalan in weeks. Normally, Dwayne would have investigated why his master had gone silent for so long, but between Earth Qe classes, Sanford’s renovation, his work at the Indigo Tower, and the development of new spell vials, he hadn’t had the time. Honestly, he was surprised that they’d maintained long-distance correspondence for any length of time, let alone for a whole month as - without Dwayne there - Lord Kalan had a tendency of getting lost in his theoretical musings. Still, Dwayne’s last letter from his master had mentioned these crates over two weeks ago.

Maybe he should be concerned. Later though.

Dwayne opened the crates and pulled out their contents, laying them out on the bed. Lord Kalan had sent him two velvet three-piece suits. One was dark blue with black buttons and was embroidered with silver rivers, evoking the Brad River whose banks the Kalans had once owned. The other was pale pink and was embroidered with dancing, leaping blue fish. Doubtless another river reference. In addition to the suits, Lord Kalan had sent cravats, cuffs, and long stockings, all in white. Dwayne fingered one of the cravats, which was made of dense, high quality fabric. All of this was the kind of thing that Dwayne would have stared at in the tailor’s shop, but would have prevented Lord Kalan from buying if he’d been in the vicinity. If this was Lord Kalan’s attempt to pressure Dwayne into acting like an heir… No, that sort of subtlety wasn’t Lord Kalan’s strength. Dwayne’s fist clenched around the cravat. This was an apology for something, and, after he finished his latest batch of spell vials, Dwayne planned to write a letter to Lord Kalan to find out what for.

“Looks like Mr. Ma is late again.” Rodion, impeccably dressed in tailored green, stepped into the room. “Good, you finally opened those.”

Dwayne unclenched his fist, letting the cravat fall to the bed. “I… was… trying to figure out what I was going to wear to the Autumn Session.”

“Oh?” Rodion raised an eyebrow. “Skipping ahead a bit, aren’t we, my lord? What about tonight?”

Dwayne’s cheeks burned as he looked away. “Tonight is…”

“Important.” The steward stepped over to Dwayne’s bed and inspected the suits. “These are well made.” He reached out and picked up the blue suit’s vest. “Lady Gallus expects you to comport yourself as a noble.” He stepped behind Dwayne and held out the vest. “Let’s get this on you.”

“I can do this myself,” said Dwayne, allowing Rodion to put the vest on him. “I’ve managed up until now.”

Rodion buttoned up the vest. “Of course.” Finished with the vest, he plucked a cravat from the bed. “Chin up, my lord.” He wrapped it around Dwayne’s neck. “Young Lady Gallus will be there?”

“Yes, she-” Dwayne shut down his smile. He’d sounded too eager. “I mean I’m sure that her lady mother informed her of the consequences of skipping out on the dinner.” He raised his chin even higher to make it easier for Rodion to tie the cravat. “I heard a representative from the Royal Secretary’s Office and the Dean of a Magisterium College will be there.”

Rodion adjusted the cravat. “Did she tell you that, my lord?”

“No.”

“She didn’t?” Rodion picked up the suit’s breeches. “Then how did you hear about it?” He held them open. “In you go, my lord.”

Hiding a grimace, Dwayne stepped into the breeches. “My classmates were whispering about it. Apparently, none of the other deans were invited, just a few working mages.” He let Rodion pulled the breeches up to his hip. “Oof, these are snug. Of course, an invitation was made to Her Highness the Secretary, but she’s sending a representative instead, which is a snub to Lady Gallus.” He sighed. “I didn’t get anything more. They went quiet once they noticed I was listening.”

His steward fastened the breeches. “Their loss, my lord.”

Dwayne groaned. “Okay, I’m going to need a moratorium on the ‘my lord’s’ for the day.”

“We’ve barely started the day.” Rodion stepped back and inspected the suit’s fit. “Looks good. You need to get used to this term of address, my lord.”

“Just for an hour then.” Dwayne bent his knees. The breeches were snug, but they didn’t hamper his movement. “I understand my noble responsibility, and I know what society expects of me, but… well…” He gestured to the room. “We’re the only people here. Please, just for an hour. I need to feel like me.”

Rodion bowed his head. “An hour then.” He picked up the suit’s jacket from the bed and held it up. “In you go.”

“Thank you.” Dwayne twisted in, his right arm first and then his left.

“Really, you don’t need to thank me.”

“I’m me. I thank people.”

Rodion didn’t reply as he fussed with how the jacket hung on Dwayne’s shoulders, his face perfectly impassive.

That was strange for Rodion. He had a quick tongue. “Are you okay?” asked Dwayne.

The steward’s face twitched. “Yes, I’m fine.” He patted the edge of the bed. “Let’s get those stockings on you, my… sorry.”

“Sure.” Dwayne sat down as Rodion selected a pair of stockings. “I wish I could talk to Magdala about these things.”

“Oh?” Rodion’s eyes twinkled as he knelt. “You wish to talk gossip with her?”

Blood rushed to Dwayne’s face. “No, I-I want to talk about the new materials that are coming in, and their use for... you know.”

“Yes, the materials for the spell vials,” Rodion slid the first stocking onto Dwayne’s leg, “which are for that joint project you two have been working on together. Alone. Closely.”

“Not alone.” Dwayne looked away. “One of her parents is always there. Both families are honor bound to provide chaperones after all.”

“Both families, huh?”

Dwayne sighed. Lord Kalan should be here, not shopping for new carts, dried food, or warm weather gear, all things that Dwayne had signed off on before receiving the crates. If there was some logical reason for these strange purchases, Dwayne had no idea what it was.

Another thing to ask Lord Kalan about.

“Other leg.” Rodion slid the second stocking onto Dwayne’s leg. “I too have learned a little about tonight’s dinner guests. The servants at the Gallus estate mentioned that Young Lady Gallus’s aunts and grandmother will be in attendance. From what I hear, the elder Lady Gallus spends most of her days up north. She doesn’t much like the city.” He produced a pair of shiny black, low-heeled shoes and placed them in front of Dwayne.

“I’m shocked. There’s so much to like about Bradford.” Dwayne slid his feet into the shoes. “The crush of people at the Exchange, the squalor of the Plague District, and how snobbish everyone in the Noble District is, it’s all so attractive.” He hated the shoes, but they looked nice on his feet. “That does explain why the other deans weren’t invited though. This sounds more like a family meeting.” Probably about him.

“We’re done.” Rodion stood up. “Shall I arrange for a carriage?”

“Yes, please.” Dwayne stood up, teetered. “Alternatively, I could take all this off and walk to work in my usual.”

“As the Head Clerk of the Indigo Tower,” said Rodion, putting his hands on his hip, “this is your usual.”

Dwayne winced as he carefully stepped across the room. “Can I switch with Mei? She gets to wear boots.”

“She’s the Tower’s Head Guard, and guards are expected to stub their toes now and then.”

“Head Guard.” Dwayne smirked. “We have these lofty job titles, but the Tower’s entire staff consists of just me and Mei.” `He made it to his desk. Hopefully, he got used to walking in these shoes by the time he got to class. “I wish I could pay her more. The Bilges is too… far away.”

“She and her brother made their choice.”

“Yeah, they did.” Dwayne collected a leather bracer, a set of glass cuboids, and a battered copy of Marshall’s Thaumaturgical Theory from his desk. “You’ll finish transferring the library from the study down to the basement?” As far as they could tell, the lower you went in Sanford the drier it was, which made the study in the attic the worst place to put books.

“Of course. I’ve also prepared the usual lunches for you and Mei.”

“Thank you.” Dwayne sighed. Enough stalling. “I’ll be downstairs. When Huan deigns to show up for work, tell him I’m tired of his constant tardiness.”

***

Hundreds of wir downriver in the Bilges, Bradford’s poor riverfront district, Mei woke up on a pillow of paper and ink. Pushing her homework away, she rolled over and looked up at the bent wooden slats underneath Huan’s bunk. So he had finally come home, after Mei had fallen asleep on her writing practice and after their neighbors had drunk themselves into a stupor. Of late, Huan seemed unable to go to bed until early morning.

Mei sat up, placed her bare feet on the floor, winced at how cold it was. She got to her feet anyway and went through a series of stretches and exercises to wake herself up, taking care not to hit her hands or head on anything in the room. When her blood was finally pumping, she pulled herself up to the top bunk where her brother lay bundled in blankets.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Huan.”

“No.”

“Get up,” Mei said in Tuquese.

Huan pulled the blankets tighter around him. “No.”

“We have work.”

With a grunt, Huan rolled away.

Knowing that they had to hurry, Mei punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow, no!” Huan’s head emerged from the blankets to glare at her. “I worked all night. I need sleep.”

Mei glanced at the floor next to their bunk and frowned. Her brother’s preferred outfit - shabby trousers, loose tunic, scuffed boots, and blue scarf - lay there in a pile while the black and blue uniform that he wore as a Sanford guard lay discarded in a corner. Even the sword he’d brought back from Yumma and his new wooden box looked more used. “What work?”

“Just work.” Huan’s head disappeared back under the blankets. “Important work.”

Pursing her lips, Mei dropped back down to the floor, took three steps, and reached the door to the hallway where her own uniform hung. Kicking her brother’s clothes into his corner, she started to dress, noting once again that there was barely enough room for even that. She missed sleeping outside under the wide sky to the tune of Maggie’s snores and waking up to Dwayne’s hot, if basic, breakfast. This small gray room, where the floor was too cold, where even she could touch both walls, was a step down from that. But Huan had insisted they get their own place.

Letting it go once again, Mei took down a pair of steel gray breeches and put them on over the loose shorts she wore to bed. After a quick lacing and tightening, she pulled down a long-sleeved gray and indigo doublet and went through the process of putting it on, keeping her mind off her old tunic that she’d left in a trunk in Sanford and how simple it used to be.

When she’d agreed to be Head Guard for the Indigo Tower, she, Maggie, and Dwayne had had to search it for something suitable for her to wear, but the only thing they’d found was a breastplate that a striped gorilla couldn’t lift and a helmet that touched her shoulders. After she’d tried them on anyway and they’d all had a good laugh, both Dwayne and Maggie had gone to see if they could find something else. They’d returned with this outfit and a dagger with a red horse head craved into the pommel. More precisely, Dwayne had brought the outfit and Maggie had brought the dagger, saying “You have to have something to let people know you’re a guard” with a glare at Dwayne tossed in. `Mei suspected that Dwayne, ever practical, had shot down Maggie’s request to get Mei plate armor or chain-mail or something, and they’d settled on the dagger as a compromise. Frankly, Mei was glad that Dwayne had stood his ground. She loved Maggie, but all armor looked heavy and annoying, and the dagger was far more useful to her.

With the doublet finally on, Mei strapped on the dagger, which was a good weight and easy to sharpen. She appreciated that in a blade, but it wasn’t her real weapon. That lay in a long thin leather case that was nearly as long as Mei was tall. She pulled it out from behind her bunk and opened it up to inspect her parents’ last gift to her: a rifled cannon.

Satisfied that all was in order, Mei closed the case, slung its strap over her shoulder, and once more, she climbed up to the top bunk. “Huan. Get up.”

Another growled “no”, and Huan dug deeper into his blankets.

“Huan.” Mei sighed. He left her no choice. She drew her dagger.

The slither of unsheathing metal jerked Huan out of bed and onto the floor, where he freed himself from his blanket cocoon and dove for his sword. He’d half drawn it before he saw that it was only Mei.

Huan sheathed his sword. “Stop that.”

Mei pointed the tip of her dagger at his uniform on the floor. “Get dressed.”

“I’m serious.” Huan drew himself to his full height, a couple of thumbs taller than Mei. “Stop pulling that blade on me.” He was trying to intimidate her, but the effect was ruined by how his eyes caught on her dagger.

“We have to go,” Mei said.

“Little sister,” Huan growled, “I told you to stop drawing your…” He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. “It’s fine.” He opened his eyes and painted a smile onto his face. “It’s fine. You did say you’d do this if I was going to be late.” His smile grew teeth. “I’ll try to wake up earlier so please consider keeping your dagger sheathed. Now, look away. I’m getting dressed.”

As Huan put on his Sanford uniform, Mei slid her dagger back into its sheath. It was getting worse. While her brother said he was just experiencing the residual effects of wearing the Tiger Mask for so long, he was lashing out more and more often. Before the mask, Huan could have slept through anything, but now the whisper of a blade was enough to wake him. Mei glanced at her brother’s neck, which still had a pale stripe where the mask’s bottom strap had been. The mask was gone, Tiger was gone, and Huan, while still a thief and a rogue and a confidence trickster, was still her only family and he wouldn’t lie to her.

“How do I look?” Huan turned to her and spread his arms wide. “Like a guard to the rich and powerful?”

Mei looked him over. Her brother’s double-breasted midnight blue jacket was wrinkled, his sword belt was askew, his white stockings were covered in mud-spots, and the faded blue scarf around his neck looked out of place. “You’re fine.”

Huan’s arms dropped. “You think I should get it cleaned.”

She’d never been able to hide things from him. “I think-”

“Why are you taking this so seriously?” Huan’s expression was dark. “It’s just a job.”

“It’s our responsibility.”

“Responsibility?” Huan’s lips curled. “After all that crap that went down in that jungle, they should be responsible for us. I- You, you almost died!”

The sight of a giant fist, the creak of a crossbow crank, and the smell of burnt forest tore through Mei. She tried to hold in a shudder.

Huan saw through her. “We’re responsible for ourselves and for each other, little sister. No one else.”

“They can help.” Mei took slow deep breaths, got her fear under control. “She is still out there.”

“Who? Momin?” Huan let out a bark of laughter. “She hasn’t bothered us in weeks. Last night, I heard that she was down in Adhua doing-”

“Last night?” Mei’s stomach clenched. “Last night, while you were working?” Dwayne’s steward didn’t talk about things like that, not with Huan.

“I stopped by a tavern for a drink afterwards.” Huan shrugged as his eyes slid away from hers. “Apparently, she’s got the market cornered on some kind of green dye, and, after a little beer and some smoke, people’ll blabber about it all night. Come on.” He grabbed his cloak off the floor and pushed past Mei. “I assume you don’t want me to be late.”

That explanation sounded plausible. People talked in taverns about almost anything, and Momin’s front as a spy was as a mere merchant. It sounded plausible, so Mei accepted it and grabbed her cloak and her ring of keys and followed Huan out of the tenement and onto the streets of the Bilges.

Keeping pace behind her brother, Mei took in the street. It was hours before the day shift went to work, and so only a few people, kids mostly, were out and about. They still stared at Mei and Huan, who stuck out because they were Tuquese and wore fine colorful clothes. Even Huan’s ill-kept uniform was more fine than the gray or brown tunics, pants, and dresses the Bilge’s residents usually wore.

“Isn’t it early for you to be heading out, boy?” A woman in a damp gray shawl curled her lip at Huan as she hefted a wash basin full of clothes. “I saw you sneaking in near the crack of dawn like the layabout you are.”

“Scoundrel, ma’am, not layabout, and I was attending to my own needs.” Huan gave her his best smile. “What were you doing at the crack of dawn, Ms. Schofield?”

Schofield scowled at him. “Doing my tenth load of wash. Not all of us have the privilege of tending only to ‘our own needs.’” Her expression softened when she saw Mei. “Oh, that explains it. She got you up.” Schofield waggled her eyebrows. “Did you have to flog him?”

Mei shook her head.

“Pity.” Schofield grinned. “At least you’ve got him well trained. Have a good morning and good luck dealing with that foreigner boss you have. I don’t know how you do it.”

“He’s easy to work for,” said Mei.

“Come on.” Huan picked up the pace, and, after a quick bow to Schofield, Mei followed.

They soon reached Nieder Street and, by crossing it, left the crowded gray-walled boardinghouse warehouses of the Bilges for the cargo-filled red, green, and white warehouses of the Exchange. Around them, merchants, accountants, and messengers rushed about on cart, horse, and foot to get into position before the morning market opened.

Huan glanced back at Mei. “I do know how to get to Sanford on my own.”

Usually, Mei would not have crossed Nieder, but instead would have followed it north, passed through the horde of people going to market, and entered the huge doak tree forest to reach the Tower. Going through the Exchange would take longer, not just because of distance, but also because of all the people and the mammoth cow-like beasts they used to bring their goods in. It also risked arriving after Dwayne, defeating the point of being Head Guard.

Still, it was her responsibility to make sure that Huan got to work on time. Even Dwayne, the premier practitioner of patience, was starting to get annoyed.

Mei adjusted her rifle case. “Let’s go.”