The Magisterium Commissary had been set up in the Salmo building two hundred and fifty years ago and displayed the architectural details typical of the Golden Age. Its columned arcades and colored triangular tiles - blue for water, yellow for wind, and white for earth - almost prevented visitors from noticing what was on the ceiling, but eventually their eyes had to follow the columns up to a majestic mural, which spanned all of the dining hall’s fifty wir length. This mural depicted hundreds of Qe mages in fluttering robes of azure, honey and ivory as they ascended the mountain that peaked at the north end of the hall. There, the three Saints of Qe posed around a pool of water, gracing their daughters with their beatific gaze. Standing at the south end of the hall, a visitor could imagine herself scrambling up the mountainside and joining her forebears at the peak of thaumaturgical study.

But for Magdala, even an absence of weeks wasn’t enough to restore her awe, and so her gaze remained on the mundane as she dropped a tray of food on one of the dining hall’s marble tables and dumped herself into a plush chair.

“Hello, Mag darling.” The table’s only other occupant, Francesca Lucchesi, waved off a proffered set of yellow dahlias. “What’s upsetting you today?”

Magdala gestured to the departing dahlias, now being carried away by a dispirited tyro. “Admirer or lunch date?”

“Admirer.” Francesca pulled her tan robe tighter over a pastel yellow blouse and pantaloons. Only Magdala’s roommate, as full bodied as the sun, could make the wind Qe uniform look glamorous. “Though more of my name than my person.”

The admirer, who still clutched the rejected dahlias to her chest as she hurried away, wore the same blouse and pantaloons as Francesca, although hers were a dull yellow and made of cheap heavy fabric. Had she really just wanted a job on the Lucchesi decks? “Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Oh, has your suspension forced you to develop powers of discernment? If so, congratulations.” Francesca sipped water from her glass. “We were talking about you though. Let me guess. Someone hurt your Gallus-bred pride.”

Magdala’s face flushed. “This is…” Francesca raised an eyebrow. “…not not that.”

Francesca laughed. “I’m so glad that it’s Auntie Liv, not dear Mamma, who is the Wind Sage, and that Mamma also has the good sense to stay off the Privy Council. So,” she rested her arm on the back of her chair, “what happened?”

Magdala told Francesca about the nQe practical. “And then Dean Laurence said that I was being ‘high-handed’, and Colin flounced out of class without bothering to thank me for the good grade.”

“Colin, Colin…” Francesca closed her eyes. “Fletcher?” She opened her eyes. “Unnotable family? Hails from the west, top of the class?”

He is? “Yes.”

“I didn’t think he had the body for flouncing. And, yes, you were being high-handed.”

“I was not! I just saw what needed to be done and told Colin what I needed him to do.”

Francesca raised an eyebrow. “Did you explain yourself beforehand?”

Magdala thought back. “No, I… I didn’t.”

“Did you expound on your thinking at any time?”

“No.”

“Then you were being high-handed, possibly even imperious.” Francesca offered a smile. “You’ve been around Mei and Dwayne for too long. Mei, bless her heart, trusts you completely, and Dwayne… seems to know what you’re about.” She tapped her glass. “You know if I hadn’t seen him cast Qe magic myself, I would not-”

Magdala sat up. “You’ve seen him cast?” Dwayne couldn’t cast Qe magic without her spell shunts, but since he’d started classes at the Magisterium, she hadn’t had a chance to check her handiwork. “What did you think?”

“He’s… creative I have to say.” Francesca sat back in her chair. “In my introductory Earth class two days ago, he completed a practical by combining two very unusual spells. Professor Corns tried to correct him, but Dwayne pointed out that he’d completed the assignment precisely as described, and when Corns tried to say that Dwayne was being inefficient, he got shut down hard.” She giggled. “I think I learned more about thaumaturgical theory in those five minutes than I’ve learned since start of term.” Francesca took another sip of water.

“Oh.” Magdala sat back in her seat. “Good.”

Francesca raised an eyebrow. “Anyway, as I was saying, he gets you, stares at things like you do, like - oh, what was it Mei said? - ‘A fallen baby bird who blames the branch.’”

Magdala grimaced. Mei’s metaphors were so strange. “I don’t stare.”

“Just like you weren’t being high-handed?” Francesca shook her head. “Just look at it from Colin’s point of view. You’ve been a good boy, you studied hard, followed every instruction precisely, and now you’re top of the class. Now, the class screwup comes back from suspension and is doing amazing-”

“Not that amazing. The other day El-”

“Don’t interrupt. We’ll discuss her at a later date. The point is that you are a much better mage now. I heard that the professors are thinking of making all the students go on adventures like you did. Field Studies they call it.”

Magdala glared at her roommate. “They are not.”

“Okay, they aren’t, but they should be,” said Francesca. “My point is that yes, you came back a better mage, a better person even, but everyone else still sees the imperious daughter of the Water Sage throwing her weight around. They’ll need time to see the changes you’ve made.”

“I wasn’t…” Magdala sighed. “I just saw what needed to be done and did it.”

Francesca patted her hand. “I know.” Her eyes flicked up and she grinned. “Axesnapper, over here!”

“Mei?” Magdala turned around in her chair. “Mei!”

From the west side of the dining hall, Mei waved back then started negotiating her way towards them. Her signature rifle case was missing, replaced by the large satchel slung across her shoulders and the dagger on her hip. Where was it? Had she left it with Dwayne? Magdala hid a wince at the dagger, which looked inelegant and awkward, not like the axe that she’d ordered for Mei back in Walton. They’d have to wait a bit longer though. Langseth, Walton’s weaponsmith in residence, had sent word that a ton of orders had come in from the Southern Line Garrison and that she’d need more time. Was Baron Harvey attempting to shore up Walton’s defenses after the assault three weeks ago? Was Magdala’s father planning to fully man the Southern Line? As far as she knew, the Souran Army still lacked the means to stop evil Vanurian mages from flinging their vile creations over the wall, but they had captured… some…

Two faces hovered near Magdala’s. “Wah!”

Both Francesca and Mei settled back into their seats, the former with a giggle, the latter with a small smile.

Magdala’s ears burned. “What?”

“You were thinking boring military thoughts again,” replied Francesca, “so I showed Mei how to have some fun.”

“Well then,” Magdala raised her chin, “should I show her what to do when you’ve been enraptured by a tall, statuesque lady?”

Francesca sniffed. “I am discreet, unlike you.”

“Are not.”

“Am so.”

“This is for you, Maggie.” Mei pulled something out of her satchel. “Dwayne found it at the Tower.” She handed over a battered leather pouch, which was emblazoned with a badger atop a wall holding a shield, the emblem of the Queen’s Army.

Magdala took it, undid the metal clasp, and pulled out a letter. After skimming the block letters, she smiled. “It’s from Saundra.”

“Oh?” Francesca picked up her glass. “What’s it say?”

“She says… It’s good news. She’s been confirmed as one of my father’s squires!”

“Oh, excellent.” Francesca glanced into her empty glass and set it back down. “Is she… coming to Bradford any time soon?”

Magdala gave her roommate a wry look. “That’s what you call being discreet? Mei, is she being discreet?” There was no response. “Mei?”

The hunter looked up from clasped hands. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“Oh,” Magdala grimaced, “did you want to read the letter for practice?”

“Shush.” Francesca leaned in. “Mei, is something the matter?”

Mei’s eyes dropped back down to her clasped hands. “It’s my brother.”

***

During the ride to the Scaled Tower in Dwayne’s carriage that morning, Mei had stayed silent, brooding in the sadness left after her anger, but such silences discomfited Dwayne, who offered to help her with her reading assignments.

Glad to have the chance to bury herself in the strange yet simple Souran alphabet, Mei had just finished her tenth repetition of the phrase, “Edina walks to the shores of the Ilyon Sea,” when Dwayne asked, “Have you tried to write something original yet?”

“No.” Mei’s eyes stayed on her pad and paper as she started her eleventh repetition. “What would I write?”

Dwayne chuckled. “It wouldn’t be original if I told you. Maybe you could write something to your parents back in Tuqu? I’ll try to get it to them.”

Mei looked up. “Even though they’re dead?”

Dwayne stiffened. “I… I’m sorry. Maybe there was something that you wanted to say to them? It might help.”

Cold settled into Mei’s belly. “Do you write to your parents?”

Dwayne’s past wasn’t an open book, but after weeks of working together, Mei did know his parents were dead.

“Not anymore.” Dwayne’s smile was sad. “One day, I realized that they probably couldn’t read. I couldn’t, not back then.”

“So writing letters didn’t help?”

“They did for a while.” Dwayne tapped her writing pad. “Writing things down makes them real, allows you to see what you’re thinking.” He leaned back. “Talking about it works too. Even if they aren’t listening.”

Mei raised an eyebrow. “Lord Kalan doesn’t listen?”

“He’s trying to follow the advice of a dead woman,” Dwayne played with the buttons on his suit, “but at least he doesn’t interrupt.”

Mei returned to her repetitions. “Lord Kalan seems like he’s fluffing himself up so that he seems okay.”

Dwayne grimaced. “You think so too? He’s been doing a lot of that lately, ever since Sir Marcus’s wake…” He sighed. “He’d better not push himself too far and leave me alone to deal with all this. Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “try writing a letter or talking to someone. You’re not alone.”

Mei frowned. “Obviously.”

***

In the present, Fran asked Mei, “What do you mean ‘he’s not what he used to be?”

Mei caught Maggie’s eye. The mage shook her head. While they had told Fran about the dragon and Yumma’s lost underground and the battle in the jungle, the two of them had decided not to tell her about the Tiger Mask. After all, Rabbit still stalked their shadows. However, while Mei had only known Fran for a couple of weeks, she already knew that Fran would get the secret out of Maggie sooner or later. The wind Qe mage took the “friend” part of “best friend” too seriously to let such things stay unspoken.

“My brother stole a Mask from the ShengXiao guard.”

Maggie’s hand went to her forehead.

Fran frowned. “He stole… a mask? From who?”

“He stole a magic mask,” said Maggie from behind her hand, “an Imperial treasure.”

Fran narrowed her eyes at her roommate. “You kept this secret from me.” When Maggie opened her mouth to protest, Fran raised a quelling hand. “It’s fine. It’s clear that it was Mei’s to keep. Now,” she sat back in her chair, “tell me. How did he get the mask?”

Mei leaned back in her chair. “It is a long story.”

Maggie looked around. “And there are parts we shouldn’t share.”

“That sounds very thrilling.” Fran snorted. “Fine, if you don’t want to tell me don’t. Mei, you said that your brother is different now. How?”

“The Mask made him Tiger,” said Mei, “and tigers prowl and hate mornings and hate staying in one place and want to be alone.”

“But he was like that with the mask off.” Maggie took a bite of an orange stick vegetable. “Was he different before?”

“He liked people.”

Maggie snorted.

Fran leaned in. “He liked people… including you?”

Mei nodded. “Now the mask is gone, but he’s worse.”

“What if he didn’t get rid of the mask? Ow!” Maggie glared at Fran. “Don’t kick me. Honest people don’t steal Imperial treasures.”

Fran put her hands together and raised her eyes to the summit of the mountain. “Saints and sages, please grant my best friend some sense. Hopefully, before she gets expelled. Or exiled. Or executed.” Her attention returned to Mei. “As for your brother, I think you just need to be patient with him.”

“Are you sure about that?” Maggie said. “He’s reached the end of Dwayne’s patience, and Dwayne’s had to deal with my lord uncle.”

Fran offered a flat smile. “Saints and sages, Magdala, your entire family tries all our patience.”

“I don’t want to lose him.” Mei’s eyes fell to her lap. “He’s been there for me since my parents died.”

As a hunter, she was familiar with death, but to have it happened to her own family… Her vision blurred.

“I’m sorry. I-” She hiccuped. “Sorry. I don’t-” The tears wouldn’t stop. “I don’t know what-”

Then she was enveloped in warmth, in scratchy pinafore, in honey scented blouse, in a moment she hadn’t felt since that night in front of the gallows.

“We’re here,” said Fran.

“We’re with you,” said Maggie.

Their warmth stilled Mei’s sobs and returned her breath to her control. Her brother hadn’t tried to comfort her back then. Instead, he’d lied and ran off to break into an imperial fortress.

When the hug was over, Mei wiped her eyes. “Yesterday,” she needed to think about something else, “you asked me what I was wearing at dinner tonight?”

Maggie dimmed.

Fran brightened. “Oh, you must wear something fashionable, dangerous.” She pulled a sketchbook from somewhere and thrust it into Mei’s hands. “This season, big shoulders, small waists, and wide hips are in.”

Mei opened the sketchbook and drank in a dozen dresses, some frilly, some striped, one that looked like a lilac bush, and all with poofy shoulders and strange square hips.

Fran reached over and flipped a couple of pages. “We could have you complement Magdala.” She indicated a dress that was the color of harvest wheat and embroidered with frolicking cardinal red horses.

Wondering whether the shoulders prevented going through doors, Mei sounded out a word Fran had penned next to the dress. “‘Pan-near’. What’s that?”

“Pan-knee-er. Pannier.” Fran traced the dress’s hips with a finger. “This shape, it comes from a wire frame hidden under the skirt, a pannier.”

Maggie groaned. “I am not wearing that.”

“Yes, you are, Lady Magdala Gallus,” said Fran. “Now that you’ve returned to society, you’ll have to look respectable. Particularly since,” she leaned in, “I heard that a dean of college will be in attendance.”

Magdala narrowed her eyes. “Heard from who?”

“Oh, Earth Qe are a most gossipy lot, at least when they think Dwayne isn’t listening.” Fran saw Mei’s expression. “But this style is not Mei. So, what about this?” She turned the page.

The next outfit was an olive green men’s suit that had been tailored to fit a women’s shape. It had a jacket with great big flaps in the front that could be folded over each other and fastened. Mei traced their shape.

“Fran dear, are you pushing an agenda?” Maggie asked.

Fran pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “I’m testing the wind, trying to find out what she likes.”

“You don’t do that with me.”

“You’re Iona Gallus’s daughter. You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

Mei winced. The outfit did look dashing, but… “I wear breeches every day.”

“And you look great,” said Maggie.

“But the wind blows where it will,” Fran’s eyes twinkled, “and I think I know where.” She turned to the very next page. “What about this?”

Mei’s breath caught. The rich brown dress had a short high-collared forest green jacket with a lilac lining and sported a skirt that was cinched at the waist but lacked the bulky pannier. Mei smiled at the line of brass buttons stitched into the jacket’s lapel.

Maggie glared at Fran. “You knew.”

Fran sat back in her seat. “While she wears that gaudy guard uniform well, Mei hasn’t had the chance to wear a proper Souran dress.” She grinned. “I’ve already sent it to your place of residence. Via discreet courier of course.”

Mei blinked tears out of her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Well, now that that’s done with.” Maggie put her fork down. “Mei, do you think I’m high-handed?”

Mei glanced at Maggie’s hands. They seemed normal. “No?”

Maggie ignored Fran’s snort. “I mean, do I just go around assuming people will do what I say?”

“Yes.” Mei glanced at Fran, whose shoulders were shaking. “What is it?”

“Apparently,” Maggie’s ears were as red as her hair, “everyone thinks I’m a jumped up autocrat.”

“Now, now.” Fran patted Maggie’s shoulder. “You know that Mei doesn’t think that. She was just answering your question.”

Mei rested her elbows on the table. “Does ‘autocrat’ mean that when you’re worried about us, you start telling us what to do? If so, Dwayne and I don’t mind. I’ll listen, he’ll argue, and together, we’ll all figure it out.”

“Fine, I’ll…” Maggie’s face now matched her ears. “I’ll try to explain myself a bit more.”

“Preferably beforehand,” said Fran.

“I said I’d try.”

A great clattering and murmuring spread through the dining hall as students rose to go to class.

“Great, I didn’t eat anything.” Maggie pointed to her full plate. “Mei, can you finish this?”

In answer, Mei slid the plate towards herself and dug in with a set of wooden flatware from the cup at the center of the table.

“Succinct as always,” said Fran.

***

Under the dilapidated roof of the Scaled Tower’s stable, Dwayne tried to enjoy his lunch of bread, cheese, and cider while watching the mostly cloudy afternoon’s wayward rays of sunshine drift across the yard. Once again, he tried to see the uncut grass, weedy road, and broken down stable as an opportunity and not yet another mountain of work that Lord Kalan had dumped on him. It wasn’t working. He could at least be proud of his work on the Tower itself.

The Scaled Tower was a cylindrical building so tall that the day’s cloudy weather hid its misshapen coned roof and so wide that its circumference could hold three whole cottages. It was covered in indigo tiles, each the size of Dwayne’s hand and each the shape of fish-scales. When he’d first arrived, the Tower had been covered in dust and dirt, forcing Dwayne to hire, at too much cost, a Water Qe to wash it. After the torrent of water, the Tower now shone in the sun. It was lucky that the tiles themselves had needed no additional maintenance.

After he finished lunch, Dwayne returned the flask and cloth wraps to his rucksack and then stood up and stretched. With his morning lessons done and none scheduled this afternoon, he had enough time to prepare for tomorrow’s Earth Qe practical before going to the Gallus dinner tonight.

He’d just started to roll up his left sleeve when dead wet leaves squished behind him. Jerking his sleeve back down, he turned and made deferential sounds. “I apologize. The office isn’t ready… Mei!”

Brushing leaves and sticks off her cloak, the hunter-turned-Head-Guard stepped out of the Queen’s Woods. “Reporting for duty.”

“Had a good lunch?”

“A long one. Ate Maggie’s share.” The corners of Mei’s eyes were red, but they were sparkling nonetheless. “Fran got me something to wear tonight.”

Dwayne sighed. “I’m glad someone is looking forward to tonight. I’m not.” He rolled up his left sleeve, revealing his custom leather bracer, and nodded at the woods. “Any sign of visitors?”

Mei shook her head. “Just animal tracks.”

“Good. Thanks for checking.”

Mei saluted acknowledgment and then took up her post in front of the Tower’s steel slab of an entrance. Glad to have someone watching out, Dwayne retrieved a thin pamphlet from the stable and reviewed it.

Setup for practical: Two 4 doun stone blocks will be placed 10 wir apart. The student will stand at the exact midpoint between them.

The assignment: The student is to switch the positions of the blocks by moving both simultaneously. Assessment will be made on accuracy, time of completion, and how many times the blocks are dropped to the ground. Physical contact with the blocks either before or during the practical is not permitted.

Dwayne groaned. Something new. Again. Grabbing a heavy drawstring purse out of his rucksack, Dwayne walked over to the road to find suitable substitutes for the stone blocks. He found two cobblestones, pried them loose, and then dropped them a few strides apart in the Tower yard. As he rummaged through the drawstring purse, he stood between the two stones and pondered the practical.

His first idea was to use the spell preparation technique to preload two basic Qe spells into his mind, but he couldn’t do that, not with the spell vials. He wasn’t sure why. Magdala guessed that it was because he was only borrowing the Qe magic from the vials’ contents, which felt somewhat true since, when Dwayne cast using the vials, it felt less like singing and more like playing an instrument, and no matter how well he “played” the vials, he was never going have the same control he’d have with his voice. No matter. First year Earth Qe students weren’t expected to know the spell preparation technique anyway. Even fifth year Water or Wind Qe students like Magdala’s roommate Francesca found using the technique for Earth challenging, and it wasn’t like Professor Corns expected a Wesen to be able to do it. Dwayne snorted. He’d only gotten through Corns’ class so far by steadfastly ignoring every comment the man made a comment about Dwayne’s abilities. It had felt so good to correct him that day.

At any rate, the solution to the practical had to lie in the proper sequencing of the proper spells. Like all magic, Qe spells were comprised of a series of meaningful syllables in a specific order. The class had been taught the correct spells Qeuiearke and Qeuilike, which would levitate and push the stones, but there lay the dragon’s maw. Dwayne couldn’t cast either spell because, despite the ability to ace all of the quizzes and diagram even the most complex spell sequences, he was Ri, and his magical resonance was incompatible with Qe, which meant he needed the spell vials he and Magdala had to cast Qe spells. Unfortunately, not only were the vials a declaration that he wasn’t really Qe, he had to source spells from animals, who rarely used the spells humans used. Those two facts had forced Magdala and Dwayne to get creative.

Sitting on the ground, Dwayne pulled three finger-sized glass blocks out of the purse and slid them into the leather bracer on his arm. These blocks, spell shunts, were Magdala’s masterpieces. When they touched Dwayne’s skin, they could do the work of the cumbersome spell vials and transform his magical resonance into Qe magical effect. Honestly, Dwayne was still a little in awe of Magdala’s handiwork, though he didn’t love the fact that the bracer was, in fact, armor. He would have been fine with a bracelet, but Magdala never missed an opportunity to play soldier dress up.

The three shunts he’d selected for tomorrow’s practical were Qechireeut whose source was the fangs of a Cairnborne bat, Qesheffuf whose source was the claws of a Tuquese stone mole, and Qethumlidug, which they’d made from the spinneret of a west Vanurian spider. That last had been hard to make as the webs had been so sticky that Dwayne had had to burn them off Magdala’s fingers. Rodion said he’d bought them at The Exchange, though Dwayne hadn’t seen wares like this the last time he’d been there. Dwayne closed up the shunt purse, hoping that these three spell shunts could approximate the two spells he’d been taught in class.

He’d start with Qechireeut first. Standing up, Dwayne faced the cobblestone closest to the stable and recalled that the Cairnborne bat’s favorite food was moths. From what he had read, the bats used this spell to pull off their prey’s wings. Simple enough.

Dwayne focused on the target. “Qechireeut!”

The cobblestone jerked left and rolled in the direction of the Tower for five wirs before settling. While surprised at the force, those bats must really want those wings off the moths, Dwayne wasn’t surprised at the direction. Ree was one of the syllables that meant left in Qe, but did it mean his literal left? Dwayne moved to pick up the cobblestone. If, like Mei had read from her first book, the little beasts used chirps instead of sight to find their prey, then they might be visualizing something completely different from what Dwayne was. Since visualization was the first step of casting a Qe spell, it was crucial that he got into their little minds.

Time to test something different. Dwayne returned the cobblestone to its place in the yard and then, after positioning himself between the two stones, turned around and faced the other cobblestone. With the Tower on his right, Dwayne held a vision of the cobblestone behind him in his mind’s eye. “Qechireeut!”

Once again, the target cobblestone jerked towards the Tower and came to a stop in about the same place. Interesting. Even though Dwayne had changed orientation, the cobblestone had still gone left. That meant that it wasn’t his own left that mattered. If that wasn’t it, then what about…

Once again, Dwayne reset the target cobblestone and then stood between the two again. Facing the target, he closed his eyes, and imagined what it looked like when he was facing it on the stable side and not between the two stones. “Qechireeut!”

When the clattering had stopped, he opened his eyes. The stone had gone to his left, the image’s left, and away from the Tower. Dwayne grinned. This was good. After retrieving the cobblestone, he strode up to Mei, who was practicing writing on the steps of the Tower. “Mei, do you have a spare pencil?”

Still keeping one eye on her work and the other on the forest, Mei pulled a worn charcoal pencil out of her pocket.

Dwayne took it. “Thanks.”

“You are welcome.” Mei kept writing.

Using the pencil, Dwayne drew two perpendicular arrows on the cobblestone’s side and dropped it back into place. As he took up position between the two cobblestones once again, Dwayne took note of the arrow’s orientation on the target stone. One was pointing up, the other left. Perfect. He closed his eyes, imagined the target stone on its side with the up arrow pointed right and the left arrow up, and said, “Qechireeut!” He opened his eyes. The stone was gone.

“Watch out!” shouted Mei.

Heart in his throat, Dwayne looked up and saw the cobblestone reach the apogee of its ascent. The visualization had worked, and as the stone slammed down into the ground, her threw his hands up. “Success!”

He grinned at Mei who gave him a slow thumbs up, a welcome show of encouragement if not understanding.

Now, he just had to do both at the same time.

Easy enough.

He walked over to the stable. “Mei, I’m going to try both of them this time. You should take shelter over here.”

“Okay.”

As Mei packed up her writing practice and joined him in the safety of the stable, Dwayne closed his eyes. The ut in Qechireeut meant “target I see”, but that obviously wasn’t literal, not if he could close his eyes and move the stone. Moreover, if bats could rip off just the wings of a moth then “target” didn’t mean one entire thing, or else the bats couldn’t target just their targets’ wings, and if “target” could be a part of a thing, then it might be able to be a collection of things. Dwayne made a set of the two cobblestones, lay that set on its side in his head, then said, “Qechireeut!”

Dwayne opened his eyes, looked up, and grinned. Both stones were sailing to the apogee of their ascent. He might as well see if he could stop their descent. The spider spell should do it. He stretched out his hand. “Qethumlidug!”

For a moment, something tugged at his hand, then both cobblestones smashed into the ground. Wincing, Dwayne went into the yard to inspect the cobblestones. He’d expected the spider spell to catch the stones in midair, but-

“Dwayne.” Mei was at his side, her voice soft. “Windsong. Southern sky.”

A mixture of emotions, equal parts dread and anticipation, washed over Dwayne as he caught sight of the human figure tracing circles in the sky. “Thanks. You can go back to your post.” If he was lucky, it was word from Lord Kalan.

Mei’s eyes searched his face. “Even walking north you’ll find south.”

Dwayne laughed. “Is it that obvious what I’m waiting for?”

Mei shrugged. “You don’t hide it well.”

“Hah.”

As Mei took position in front of the Tower, Dwayne rolled his shirtsleeve over his leather bracer and waved down the messenger. “Hey, down here!”

The messenger waved back and slowly descended into the yard on a column of wind. When she touched ground, she spoke a word and the wind stopped, letting her settle onto the ground. Shaking dew off her bright blue leather suit, the messenger said, “I’m looking for a Lord Bartholomew Kalan.” She pulled a letter out of her satchel.

Hiding his disappointment, Dwayne reached for the letter. “I can take it. Who is it from?”

The messenger yanked the letter out of reach. “No, this is for a lord. Who are you?”

Dwayne managed to place a smile over gritted teeth. “I’m Lord Kalan’s apprentice Dwayne, Dwayne Kalan.”

The messenger rolled her eyes. “Look, I don’t have time for jokes, mister.”

“I’m not making one. Lord Kalan isn’t here. He’s at Walton.”

“Oh, cups.” The messenger started to tuck the letter back into her satchel. “In that case, I’ll take it to the local windsong office and-”

“No.” Dwayne drew himself up to his full height. “You’ll save us both some time and leave it here with me.”

The messenger bristled. “You ain’t no noble, mister, and you ain’t no mage app-”

Dwayne pointed at the nearest cobblestone. “Qesheffuf!”

A chunk of the cobblestone pushed itself out, like a slice of bread pushed out of a loaf. A surprising effect, but judging by the look on the messenger’s face, it got the point across. “Oh…You’re… You’re that-”

“Yes, I am.” Like a noble, Dwayne transformed the insult he felt into imperiousness. “The Wesen Qe mage.”

The messenger chuckled nervously. “I didn’t see a ring and I thought…” She coughed. “I mean, milord, here is your letter, milord.” She thrust it towards him with a deep bow.

Dwayne winced as he took the letter. “That’s not necessary.”

“Of course, milord.” The messenger straightened up. “I mean, if you say so, milord.”

There was a snort from the Tower steps.

Dwayne sighed. “Here.” He grabbed a couple of counts out of his purse and held them out to the messenger. “For your trouble.”

The messenger goggled at the coins. “No, milord, that’s-”

Dwayne jiggled them. “For your trouble.”

Eyes wide, the messenger took the money. “Well, be cups blessed, milord.” She bowed, spoke a word, and rocketed into the air.

“Every time.” Dwayne inspected the letter’s fine white envelope and the deep purple wax seal, which was embossed with the image of a stag prancing in front of a tree. He cursed. This was from Lady Pol. Dwayne opened the letter and skimmed it as he walked towards the Tower. Oh good, she was coming to Bradford, and, even better, she wanted to discuss Lord Kalan’s conduct as Royal Sorcerer. That position, which Dwayne’s master had held for years, was the reason why Dwayne spent his free time cataloging old correspondence and why Mei guarded the world’s prettiest unoccupied Tower. The only good news in the letter was that, due to Dwayne’s demonstration of the spell vials before he left Yumma, Lady Pol was now a firm believer in Resonance Theory.

“Bad news?” asked Mei.

“It’s definitely trouble.” Dwayne handed her the letter. “You can hang onto that for practice.”

He returned to the deformed cobblestone and frowned. While the strange effect of Qesheffuf was puzzling, it was even more puzzling that the cobblestone had somehow moved about half a wir towards the stable. He checked the other cobblestone, the one he hadn’t cast Qesheffuf on. It had moved too.

There had been that weird tugging feeling…

“Mei, I’m going to run a couple more tests. Then you can go off duty.” Hopefully, these tests would keep his mind off Lady Pol’s impending arrival.