Aelyn and I stood with linked arms as Distar examined the building in front of us. Around us, the din of the street assaulted our ears. Vendors were crying out, neighbours called to each other from one balcony to the other, and a horde of children ran shouting over the cobblestones. A few dashed by us, brushing past our legs, and hurtled on.

  “Let me understand this in all its pristine simplicity,” said Distar. “You want the Duke to fund an orphanage—”

  “Not an orphanage,” I said. “A house. They would look after themselves. Under your supervision, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Distar. “I can’t recall how many people have complimented me on my paternal skills.”

  “Also,” said Aelyn, “they would require food, clothing, and—”

  “Let me spare us all some time,” said Distar. “How, exactly, will the Duke benefit from all this?”

  I looked over to a nearby vendor. Arrayed before him was a row of steaming buns.

  “Why don’t we discuss this once we’ve put a little food in our bellies?” I asked.

  We made our choices, and Distar reached for his coin purse. His hand came up empty, and I watched with interest as he patted each pocket in turn. His gaze rose to take in the street, and he scanned back and forth.

  Frond walked up and plonked himself on a stone bollard.

  “Are you Master Distar?” he asked.

  “Why?” Distar’s face was dark.

  “Figure this might be yours.” Frond passed Distar his purse. I passed Frond an extra bun.

  “Sausage!” His grin almost encompassed the mouthful.

  Distar’s face turned back to me, expressionless.

  “No one sees kids,” I said. “They blend in. There are two others watching you now.”

  He looked around. The street was full of children.

  “Which ones?” he asked.

  “That’s the point,” I said.

  He nodded thoughtfully and chewed his bun. Then he turned to Frond. “Are you going to try the same trick twice?”

  Frond shook his head. “Nope. You’re scary. Once was enough.”

  “Right,” said Distar to us, “my Duke agrees.”

  I spent three afternoons every tenday in Oliva’s clinic. She saw most of the patients, and sent only the very ill, the injured, and the more complex cases to me. As predicted, the number of wealthy visitors steadily climbed. A few tried to conceal their origins by wearing older clothes or claiming that they lived in the neighborhood. Oliva plucked these out like a farmer sifting stones from a harvest.

  “Do they think I fell off the back of a karcha wagon?” she said irritably. We were cleaning the infirmary at the end the day.

  “Charge them double,” I suggested.

  “Excellent idea.” She wiped down a stretcher with a scowl.

  I heard footsteps in the anteroom and looked up. The door opened and two men entered. One was a hulking brute with a vertical scar that ran from the corner of his left eye to his chin. The other was slight, elegantly dressed, and well-manicured.

  “I’m sorry, gentlemen,” said Oliva, “but we are closed for the day. If you wish to—”

  “We’re here to talk with the Mage.” It was the smaller of the two. His gaze shifted to me. “That would be you?”

  I heard a whisper as the door to the street opened.

  “I am. And you are?”

  “Rentl.” He looked around the sick bay. “Small place you have here.”

  “It suffices.”

  He propped himself on the edge of the stretcher. “We have a better setup over in Relka Heights. Larger. Higher class. More rooms.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “My boss,” he waved his hand back and forth, “is a generous man. He’d like to offer you a position with us. Guaranteed to pay better that here.”

  “And who is he?”

  “Ah, you’ll meet him. He likes to review his people personally.”

  “Well,” I said, “that’s a straightforward, attractive offer. So, no.”

  He rubbed his chin while he studied me. “That’s not an answer I’m used to hearing, girl.”

  “If you’re out of practice I can say it again.”

  I began to spin out a spell-strand. The end wrapped around his companion’s left ankle, crossed to the right side, and slipped up his legs like a predatory snake.

  A knife appeared in Rentl’s right hand. I had not seen him draw it.

  “I hear you’re a terrific Healer,” he said, “but I figure you can always use more practice.” He pointed at Oliva with his chin. “Are you good enough to replace an eye?”

  He moved towards Oliva and froze. Aelyn’s blade rested under his chin, pressing into his neck. His partner tried to step away from the wall and toppled onto the floor with an impact that shook the room.

  “What kind of idiot brings a knife to a sword fight?” I asked. “Kindly drop that.”

  He glared at me.

  “Please,” I said, “we just mopped the floor.”

  The knife tinkled on the boards.

  “Splendid. Now, please listen. I am not interested in your offer, and you are not welcome in this neighbourhood henceforth. And—” I leaned in, “—I do not give second warnings.”

  I nodded at Aelyn, who sheathed his blade in a single movement.

  “Go,” said Aelyn.

  I released my spell, and the bruiser struggled to his feet, his eyes wide. The two left without another word. I helped Oliva to a chair and held her head against my body as she trembled.

  “Did you tag him with a tracking spell?” asked Aelyn.

  “Of course,” I said.

  We waited a trek before following the pair. The spell led us out of the Tarnto neighbourhood, through increasingly affluent communities, and finally into an opulent quarter filled with manors and estates. Our target was a sprawling villa surrounded by a tall stone wall topped with razor-sharp spikes and a flickering ward. Three guards stood at the gate: two flanking the entrance and another ensconced in a small hut.

  “Someone likes their privacy,” I said. We strolled past arm in arm, careful not to stare at the building or sentries.

  “Could you pass us through the gate?”

  “Perhaps,” I said, “but not without some serious analysis first. I’m willing to bet that we’re seeing a fraction of the security. Who owns this house?”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “Well, I’m sure we can find out.”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  We met Distar at the children’s house. Crylla was supervising the kitchen and patiently teaching a young boy how to peel a long purple vegetable. One of the youngest was playing with a stack of blocks in the front hall. He looked at us briefly as we entered and went back to his task. As the door opened a second time, he saw Distar.

  “Dista!” The child barrelled down the hall and latched onto a leg.

  Distar saw us looking and scowled. The boy blinked up at him, and he hesitated and scooped him up.

  “This is doing your reputation no good,” I said.

  “I assume there is a reason for this meeting.”

  I described the house we had viewed the night previous.

  “Ah,” said Distar. He was absentmindedly stroking the child’s head. “That would belong to Master Kohl.”

  “Who is?”

  “A bad man.”

  “Coming from you,” I said, “that is somewhat concerning. Can you be more specific?”

  “A very bad man.”

  I glared at him.

  “He has a variety of interests. Moneylending. Smuggling. Gambling. Prostitution. His methods are…unsavoury. He is known as the Daktar.”

  “There is a reason for that?”

  “Have you seen one of those creatures?”

  “Yes.” I shuddered.

  “As you know, the teeth point backwards, allowing no escape. Kohl specializes in blackmail and extortion. Once he ensnares his victims, they are forever in his grasp.”

  “Why does the Crown not shut him down, or arrest him?”

  “Given his methods, he has half the authorities of Vandoran in his pocket. Why are you asking about him?”

  “He is trying to force me to work at one of his clinics, rather than ours.”

  “Close your clinic and cease healing,” said Distar flatly. “This man does not take ‘no’ for an answer.”

  Professor Arnoq was staring at a blackboard when I entered his office. I saw a series of three problems solved, and a fourth in progress. He smiled at me with delight and passed me a thick folder of loose papers.

  “What is this?” I looked at the first page and saw my name.

  “Your textbook, of course.”

  “Oh, no,” I was shaking my head. “I made this mistake once. Professor,” I pushed the stack back at him, “this is your project. Entirely.”

  “You have written a tome before?” He looked like a child about to receive a birthday gift.

  “Long ago, and far away. Never again.”

  “Was it algebra?”

  “No, it—” I ground to a halt. “Another branch of mathematics entirely.” He opened his mouth. “Not today!”

  “Oh, very well.” He looked at the board. “I seem to be stuck here…”

  The door to the office opened and a woman carrying a leather sack in her arms walked in. She looked me over and raised her eyebrow.

  “One of your students, dear?”

  “Oh, no.” Arnoq smiled. “This is Lady Circe, the mathematician I’ve been telling you about. Lady Circe, my wife, Lady Arndt.”

  “May the blessing of Hecate enfold you, Lady Arndt.”

  “Goodness. You are much younger than I supposed, Lady Circe. Arnoq will not stop talking about this…”

  “Algebra, my love. It is going to change the way we calculate.” He looked at the bag she carried. “Is that your latest?”

  “Three months of work. The Duke has been hounding me.”

  “What is it, if I may ask?” I looked at the sack curiously. It was rather nondescript but resonated with a spell. I switched to magesight and saw a complex pattern of glowing runes embedded in the material. They moved sinuously as I watched and I followed them as they seemed to approach a horizon of some sort. Curious.

  “A storage bag, my Lady.”

  “Just Circe, please. What do you mean by storage?”

  She plucked the manuscript from the table and placed it into the sack, then flattened the material so it lay flat on the table.

  “Goddess.” I leaned in. “Where did the papers go?”

  “To the Duke’s residence. Think of the bag as a portal between here and there.”

  Oh my. A real, true, wormhole. I felt like Moses gazing on the promised land. “May I?”

  She nodded. I put my arm into the sack. It should have encountered the bottom of the bag, but I felt only empty space. I reached around and encountered a flat area like a shelf, found the manuscript, and brought it out.

  “That’s wonderful.” I was practically bouncing with enthusiasm. “Can you show me that spell?”

  Arnoq chuckled. “There are three Mages in Nah’Nua who can cast it. You are looking at one of them now.” He indicated the bag with a grin. “I don’t suppose you can use your mathematics to describe this, can you?”

  “Well,” I said thoughtfully, “that actually is my area of expertise.”

  The two were silent for several moments.

  “Could you be more specific?” asked Arnoq.

  “My field of interest was the mathematics of space and time, which are really the same thing. I was particularly interested in—” I thought for a moment, “—connecting space over a distance.”

  Arnoq was trembling with excitement. “Can you teach me that?”

  “Well.” I looked at the blackboard. “Yes, but…we have a long way to go.”

  “Good.” He was rubbing his hands with delight. Lady Arndt rolled her eyes but could not prevent a smile from emerging.

  “In the meantime, my Lady, could you show me a simple version of that spell?”

  “For the Mage who has made my husband dance like a child? Of course.”

  She spun up a small spell that comprised a surprisingly complex series of knots. I watched it carefully, committing the patten to memory. Then she separated the construct into two: one she left in place, while the other she moved to the far end of the table. She took a piece of chalk and passed it into the first; it fell from the second onto the tabletop.

  “May I try?” I asked.

  Lady Arndt smiled indulgently and waved her hand. I focused on the pattern that I had seen and pulled it up. As I made to separate the spell, it collapsed.

  “Hmph. This is trickier than it looks.”

  I concentrated harder and took my time reproducing the precise pattern. This time I succeeded, and the two ends were stable. I picked up a pencil, pushed its end into the nearest opening, and watched as it emerged almost a pace away.

  “That is so neat.” I was almost giggling. I looked over at the couple to see them sitting on two chairs, mouths agape.

  “Well, dear,” said Arnoq slowly, “now there are four.”

  Lady Arndt looked me up and down. “Lady Circe. Please clear space in your schedule after you return from the field assignment. I believe we are going to be spending considerable time together.”

  Aelyn was waiting when I emerged.

  “It’s time,” he said.

  “How many, and where?”

  “Front hall. She brought three blades.”

  “Alright,” I shrugged, “As we planned.”

  Aelyn walked away and vanished around the corner. I proceeded at a more sedate pace towards the front desk. As I rounded the corner and headed for my destination, Katrina stepped in front of me.

  “Lady Katrina,” I said, “What an unpleasant surprise.”

  “I had heard you were admitted. Standards have certainly dropped.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t say. You studied here, did you not? I would say that was the nadir of higher education in Vandoran.”

  Students and faculty were gathering around.

  “I was admitted on my own merits, not because I spread my legs for a stinking elf.”

  We had planned to escalate the confrontation, but I would have reacted in any case. My palm struck her cheek with a slap that threw her to the floor. There was a flurry of movement, and a harsh clang. I glanced sideways to see three men on the ground, their weapons strewn about. One was her Blade Randol. The other two were new to me. Aelyn and Lyorn stood over the assassins, blades drawn.

  “Good help is hard to find,” I observed.

  Madam Jaffer had arrived.

  “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.

  Katrina pulled herself to her feet. Her lip was bleeding and she was smirking triumphantly.

  “I was assaulted,” she said, “and demand satisfaction.”

  “Lady Circe,” Jaffer was enunciating her words with care, “I must strongly advise you to apologize to Lady Katrina and pay recompense.” Her gaze went to Aelyn. “And I am sure your Blade would agree with me.”

  “Hm,” I considered her words thoughtfully. Behind Jaffer, Aelyn rolled his eyes, and I tried not to laugh. “What say you, Lady Katrina?”

  Katrina pulled a piece of linen away from her face and smiled. “On your knees and beg. And my recompense will be your Blade, unarmed, for a tenday.”

  Jaffer gasped.

  “Lady Katrina,” I said, “you will pay dearly for that affront.” I turned to Jaffer, “I assume you have a suitable venue?”

  Duels were open to the public. When I arrived with Aelyn and Lyorn, the stands were packed. The arena itself was a simple oval of beaten sand, a little over 70 paces in length. Poles surrounded the battle space, marking the location of wards to protect the observers. I judged them sufficient to withstand a simple fireball. The roof was buttressed with wooden rafters that crisscrossed overhead.

  I took my position at my end of the field. Aelyn kissed me briefly and then took position outside of the wards, behind me and to my left. Katrina ignored her Blade entirely. Jaffer stood to the side and raised her hand.

  “I ask now, before witnesses, if you two Mages may resolve your dispute without recourse to violence.

  We were silent.

  Jaffer paused and then dropped her arm.

  I spun up a moderate-sized shield, positioned directly in front of me. Katrina gave me a predatory grin and began forming a fireball. I began to pace forward.

  The first fireball arced towards me and impacted my shield, which changed not at all. I continued to walk towards Katrina. She frowned, and threw another spell, as futile as the first. A third followed. I had halved the distance between us.

  Her face tightened. There was a pause as she created a larger spell. I watched it swell and brighten, and there was a low groan from the crowd.

  She released her spell. It impacted my shield with an utter lack of success, and my pace did not slacken in the slightest. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth opened. For the first time, I formed my own fireball. She focused on my forming spell and called up her own with desperate haste.

  Our fireballs crossed midway between us. Hers was weak and vanished as soon as it struck my barrier. Mine hit the sand just in front of her right foot and flared into a burst of pyrotechnics. She screamed and dropped to one knee. I was now ten paces away.

  I spun up a strand and lashed one end around her uninjured leg. The other end sailed into the rafters, wrapped around a beam, and tightened until Katrina rose from the ground. She dangled upside down. I formed another fireball and brought near her head.

  “I cannot tell you how much I resent your threat to my Blade,” I said. My teeth were bared, and I did not recognize my own voice.

  Her hair began to smoke, and her face to blister.

  “Yield!” She was screaming. “I yield!”

  I hesitated, then dropped my spells. Katrina fell without warning onto the sand, and I heard her arm fracture. Her mana pool was almost dry.

  I turned my back on her and headed for Aelyn.

  I leaned into Aelyn and breathed in his scent. He nuzzled my hair and stroked my back. Lyorn kept the spectators at a distance. I heard Jaffer’s voice behind me.

  “Lady Circe.”

  I raised my head and looked at her.

  “A word.”

  I nodded.

  “I have adjudicated many duels in my career. So, I am well able to assess the techniques of the combatants. Do you follow me?”

  “Yes, Madam.”

  “There will be debate amongst the spectators as to what occurred. But I have no doubt that at one point, you held three separate spells simultaneously.” She waited. “Well?”

  “That was a statement, Madam. Not a question.”

  Her lips tightened. “Then I have one. Did you enjoy that?”

  “No, Madam,” I said, “I frightened myself.”

  She stared at me for a long moment.

  “Good,” she said.

  Distar came to our door after nightfall.

  “The kids followed her,” he said without preamble.

  “Did she see them?” asked Aelyn.

  He shook his head. “They switched out every four to five blocks. And,” his mouth twitched, “no one pays attention to children.”

  “And?”

  “She entered Kohl’s villa and has not been sighted since.”

  “Well,” I said, “isn’t that interesting.”