worn couch beside her desk. “Yet here you are, not only with knowledge of the village’s location but with a spy already set up inside. Very impressive; how did you do it?”
“Quite simple,” Sara said, putting her booted feet up on the desk in front of her and obviously trying not to look like she was bragging. “When Eli’s stolen goods failed to show up for resale, we knew he was hoarding them somewhere. With his flair for the dramatic, I was sure he wasn’t stuffing his treasures under some rock. That left stashing the property, probably in a town. So I put out a general search with the Council tax bureau for any unexpected prosperity, and sure enough I found an interesting report of a little town in the middle of nowhere that, mysteriously, despite losing its place on the central trade route thanks to the Council’s completion of the Great Road, has continued to pay its annual taxes every year, even while all the towns around it were defaulting.”
“You found him through tax fraud?” Alric was impressed despite himself.
“Just the opposite,” Sara said. “Eli’s a clever boy, far cleverer than those idiots at the bounty office give him credit for. He knew there’s no faster way to get the Council’s attention than to skip on your taxes. Unfortunately, in his anxiety to slip under the audits, he neglected to take into account that the only thing more suspicious than defaulting on your taxes is to be the one town in a failing area that doesn’t.” She paused, giving Alric a smoke- wreathed glare. “But you didn’t appear in my office unannounced to talk about Eli. Why are you here, Alric?”
Alric leaned forward. “You are a great friend of Heinricht Slorn, are you not?”
Sara’s mouth twitched. “Heinricht is a colleague of mine. There’s no greater mind for Spirit Theory on the continent. We often work on problems together. But I don’t know why you’re coming to me. He’s your pet Shaper.”
“He is indeed very important to our interests,” Alric said benignly, refusing to rise to the bait. “However, a short while ago, he vanished. I had hoped that, as his friend, you would have some clue to his whereabouts. We’re very concerned, you see.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are,” Sara said, smiling as she cast a pointed look at the golden sword at Alric’s hip. “Swordsmith slipped the leash, did he?”
“Call it what you like,” Alric said, casually adjusting his coat to cover his sword’s hilt. “I’m only asking if he’s contacted you. Slorn is a proud man, but he’s in a desperate situation. Desperate enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s tried to reach you through his own relay point.” His eyes flicked to the blue orb on its silver chain, still lying on Sara’s desk where she’d put it down. “The information and resources at your disposal are quite considerable, and Slorn’s not a man to pass up opportunities.”
“What makes you think I gave Slorn a relay link?” Sara said, quietly picking up the blue orb and dropping it into the strongbox on her desk, where it landed on top of a dozen other orbs just like it. “Each link is a monument of wizardry, the product of months of work by myself and my team.” She snapped the strongbox lid shut. “They are for Council use only.”
“Really?” Alric said. “How interesting, then, that you planted something so valuable in the hands of a boy spy just to keep an eye on Monpress.”
“Not at all,” Sara said. “Eli is of great interest to the Council.”
“Really?” Alric’s smile sharpened. “If that’s the case, then it’s even more interesting that you don’t share your information, or the town’s location, with the Council Bounty Office.”
“If you’re here to talk Council politics, Alric, I suggest you move on,” Sara said crossly. “I have quite enough of it without your nosing about. Now, the answer to your question is no. I have received no communication from Slorn for weeks. Is there anything else I can do for the League?”
“Just let us know if anything comes up,” Alric said, pushing himself off the couch. “The League’s interests rarely overlap with those of the Council, but we’ve worked together enough for you to know that our word is good. You can believe me when I say that we will not forget your cooperation in this matter.”
“Quite,” Sara said. “You don’t need me to see you out, I’m sure.”
“No, thank you.” Alric held his hand out in front of him and closed his eyes, concentrating on his office back at League headquarters. His neat desk, the dark stone, the heavy book piled with paperwork that had undoubtedly multiplied in his absence. It took less than a second before the air shimmered in front of him, opening a long, narrow slit that glowed bright white at the edges. Through it was his office just as he had envisioned it. It was a very neat opening: no sound, no flash, just a slight breeze, but then, Alric had been a League member for a very long time.
He put one foot through, stepping down on the cold stone of the League fortress, then he paused, standing halfway between two places, and looked over his shoulder. “Oh, Sara,” he said, almost as an afterthought. “The girl who appeared in Eli’s town, your spy said her name was Pele, correct?”
“You heard it as well as I did,” Sara said stiffly, looking at him around a plume of pipe smoke.
“Slorn has a daughter with the same name,” Alric said. “Isn’t that interesting?”
“Does he?” Sara said. “I don’t keep up with his family.”
“A pity,” Alric said, smiling. “Good day, Sara, and don’t forget to keep me informed. The League is a good friend to those who help us.”
“And a bitter enemy to those who don’t,” Sarah finished. “Point made, now get out.”
Alric gave her one final, gracious smile before stepping completely into his office, the cut in reality vanishing with a dim flicker behind him.
Sara sat in her office for a while after he was gone, smoking furiously. Then, with a long sigh, she reached over and yanked the bell pull in the corner. It made no sound when she pulled it, but a second later, a lovely, long-haired man in a garish red coat, green britches, and a tall pair of polished black boots entered her office with a flourish.
“Forget our discussion this morning,” Sara said as soon as he closed the door behind him. “We’re going bear hunting after all.”
“Oh?” The man arched one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Why the change of heart?”
“It’s the stakes that have changed,” Sara said. “Not the heart. We might have a very rare opportunity to catch two wayward talents in one swoop, but we’re going to need a strong grip.”
“So send Tesset,” the man said. “He’s the strongest grip we’ve got. And I’ll go along to make sure he doesn’t have one of his fits of morality.”
Sara shook her head. “No, for this we need the biggest hammer we can get, Sparrow.” She leaned back in her chair. “I want you to get me Mellinor.”
For the first time since he’d entered, Sparrow’s smug expression faltered. “Banage’s girl? But she’s the head of the Monpress investigation. The particulars of our deal with the Spirit Court involving her employment with the Council are very strict.”
“As I said,” Sara said, grinning, “the stakes have changed. If Slorn sent his daughter to Eli, then we can only assume the thief is in this race as well. Banage’s pet has a strange connection with Monpress, and that’s exactly the kind of leverage we’re going to need to pull this off. I must have her. No one else will do.”
Sparrow ran a long hand through his glossy hair. “Banage won’t like it.”
“Hang Banage,” Sara said, blowing a ring of smoke at him. “Just go find the girl and convince her to come along. That’s what I pay you for.”
“As you wish,” Sparrow said, turning back toward the door.
“Have her here tomorrow morning,” Sara called as he left. “First appointment.”
The door closed without an answer, but she knew Sparrow had heard. Even if he hadn’t, she didn’t care. There were larger games afoot. Sara turned back to her desk and reached under the piles of drafting parchment scribbled with designs and notes. After a little fumbling, she pulled out the long, narrow slip of paper she’d hidden when Alric had stepped unannounced into her room, right before the badly timed call from her spy in Eli’s village had come in. It rankled her that Alric had been there to yank that bit of information, but she pushed her annoyance aside. He was the sort of man who it was better to assume knew everything already anyway. That way you were never caught off-guard.
She smoothed the strip of paper between her fingers. It had arrived this morning, dropped through her window by a large bird she didn’t recognize. That much wasn’t unusual. She often received messages that way, but the contents of this paper were something else entirely. It was a short letter, barely more than a paragraph, asking for assistance in a chase. The letter was not signed, but there was no need for a name. It was a hand she knew well. After years spent poring over whatever of his documents she could get her hands on, Slorn’s writing was as familiar as her own.
