Liv was wrapped in a tarp she’d stolen off some street vendor’s cart, and with a layer of snow atop that, she was nestled in between a neighbor’s chimney and the peak of their roof. It had been a lot harder getting up there, not being a cat, but she still knew all the good hiding places.

  Her plan was… well, she didn’t have one.

  An hour after Ulbrecht dragged Ms. Scaggs off, two men in a cart rode by and examined the deceased horses. An hour after that, four different men showed up in a cart with ‘Randell’s Fresh Meats’ written on the side.

  Scaggs’ door was hanging wide open, and Liv was sure she was going to have to scare the men off, but when one of them peered inside, another pulled him away, the word ‘witch’ whispered audibly.

  The men then pushed the carriage off to the side of the street, leaving it like it had been parked that way, collected the horse carcasses, and left. A macabre act to be sure, but Liv was thankful not to have to look at them anymore.

  She continued to wait, but no one came, not from the police, not from the Church. The coast was clear… seemingly.

  She didn’t trust it.

  Still at some point, a girl on a roof is going to have the cops called on her. So she climbed down into a back alley, and in a very nothing-is-wrong, nothing-to-see-here sort of way, strolled by Ms. Scaggs’ front door.

  She had that moment where the pit of her stomach dropped, certain she was about to be caught. But it passed, and she darted in, locking the door behind her.

  Her satchel still lay in the front foyer with a broken clock, once priceless, and a mess of rot brew spilling from it. Liv collected it all and went upstairs. On the landing she found a partially burnt curtain wrapped around half a dozen spell books. She dragged the whole mess back to her room.

  There she changed into one of Oliver’s sets of work clothes, the nice ones. They fit her a bit tight in the rear now, and she sighed, realizing they would fit fine in a week, when she was a boy again.

  And where to start with Ms. Scaggs? Was she even still alive?—

  Feeling tears coming, she chided herself in a whisper, “No, focus on what you can do now.”

  The only thing she knew for certain was that if she stayed there, she was going to get caught, so she quickly sifted through the clock pieces, retrieved the twenty sovereigns that were hidden within, placed them and the Sylvan book into her satchel, and headed downstairs to leave.

  Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of a figure, distorted through the icy front window, approaching the house.

  “Let’s see how you like it!” a man’s voice cackled.

  Liv leaned up to the window for a better look. A nearly naked man with dark brown skin and wild gray hair was raising his hand—

  —A blast shrieked from above, from the attic, and the ceiling rattled with the sound of shattering glass—

  Bracing for another blast, Liv dove behind a couch.

  Then, from the front door, came loud, angry knocking.

  “Scaggs! I know you’re in there!”

  He knocked again and again. “No use hiding!”

  Shaking, Liv answered the door.

  The man was wearing rags, his arms and legs inked with tribal tattoos, his long braids of hair twisted with fish bones. It was Thelemule.

  Ignoring Liv, he leaned around her and yelled into the empty house, “I spent the last month rafting back to civilization!”

  “The Duchiti islanders were all very surprised when their eagle god suddenly turned into an ‘old’ man. Old man? Yes, I’ve got a little gray in my hair.” He rubbed at his beard, snorting. “But old? Really!”

  “Um—” Liv only got out the one syllable before Thelemule pushed past her, ranting into the foyer.

  “It took me two weeks to figure out what they were asking me, ‘when are you going to turn back into an eagle and fly away?’ Which is something I would have very much liked to have done!” He glanced around, searching for something or someone, Scaggs presumably, and when he didn’t find her, he stormed off toward the kitchen.

  “I spent two more weeks convincing them to build me a raft, and another month figuring out how to sail the blasted thing!”

  When he got to the kitchen and found it empty, his eyebrows sort of collapsed in on one another. Spinning around, he raised a finger to Liv. “Do you know what shuu shuu is?”

  She shook her head.

  “Neither do I! But it’s all I had to eat for two months, and it tastes terrible!”

  “Um…” Liv gulped, “She’s not here.”

  Thelemule’s head tilted sideways as if he could not fully comprehend that, and it kept on tilting until it was more down than up.

  “Could you take a message?” he asked, gnashing his teeth.

  She shook her head.

  “Why not?”

  “She’s been taken, by Ulbrecht, by the king.”

  His head tilted back upright at that. “What for?”

  “Kidnapping the princess.”

  He leaned in. “What for?”

  “The king was going to give me back to my stepfather unless she made weapons for him. Actually, I’m kind of expecting to be grabbed any time now.”

  Scratching his beard, he pulled out a fish bone. “And you don’t like your stepfather?”

  She shook her head. “He’s umm… the worst person I know.”

  Thelemule looked her over, considering.

  Maybe he knew what to do? Liv let out a breath of relief.

  “Well then,” he brushed his hands off one another, “best of luck to you.”

  And as the ground dropped out from under her feet, Liv remembered some advice Messer had once given her… err well, Oliver: ‘A reason is always better than an argument. Even if you have to make one up.’

  “So, you haven’t been home yet?” she asked, feeling just slightly ill.

  “No…”

  “They took Stephan too,” she lied, now feeling fully ill. This was going to backfire, eventually, and she deserved it, but Scaggs would die if she didn’t do… something.

  “What!? Why?” Thelemule staggered back.

  “He was helping us.”

  He took another step back. “Why?”

  “Because he’s a good person?” She shrugged.

  “Bastard’s Verse, I warned him about that.” It looked like the wind had been knocked out of him. “Where are they now?”

  “No idea.”

  “Okay, okay.” Thelemule’s eyes narrowed. “Let me think… The king won’t help, how about the Church?”

  “Josephine was there. She said Eliza beat me, did things to me.”

  “Did she?”

  “No… nothing bad. It’s just…”

  “Just what?”

  Liv’s ‘femaleness’ hadn’t come up. Was it possible Thelemule hadn’t noticed? She’d thought he’d be fine with it, but…

  “We were telling everyone I was Oliver’s sister.” She motioned to her body. “Josephine told the king that either Scaggs killed Oliver, or forced him, me, into this.”

  Thelemule’s head cocked back, one brow separating itself from the fuzzy mess as it rose. “Oh yes, you do look different.”

  “You’re not…”

  “Not what? It’s none of my business. Personally, I would have stayed a cat, but this suits you, very fetching… Still, I can see how the Church would have a cathedral up its ass about it. So, I guess that only leaves the wizards. Did Scaggs… ‘scaggs’ them off too?”

  “Well, Drake was at the meeting, but he stayed out of it.”

  “Wise, I wish I could do that—” His eyes went wide again. “Wait, Stephan is all right, isn’t he? He didn’t try to ‘fight’ Ulbrecht?”

  Liv took a moment weighing her options, but she’d distressed him enough already. “No, he went quietly.”

  “Thank Songs for that. You haven’t left anything out, have you? Think.”

  “No.” Just added some in, she thought. “So, what about the wizards?”

  “Ehh…” Thelemule scratched his head. “Oh, them. Well, we’ll just have to barge our way in to see the first of mages. Probably get killed or… horribly magicked in the process, and convince him to convince the king not to execute anyone. Easy peasy, oh my Songs we’re going to die,” he tried to say dryly, but with more than a hint of panic by the end.

  Thelemule glanced at the mirror, saw his own reflection, and winced. “I’ll need to change first.”

  Changing meant going to his house, finding Stephan, and then—the jig would be up.

  “You want to borrow some clothes?” Liv asked.

  “What Scaggs’s?” Thelemule raised a brow. “What’s she got?”

  They went up to Scaggs’ room and were staring into her closet.

  “These are dresses, aren’t they?” he asked.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Uh, wizard’s robe, wizard’s dress. Is there really a difference?” Yes, yes there was, but he did not need to know that.

  So, in quick succession Thelemule tried on a red dress that was entirely too small, a housedress that was entirely too flowery, and a black robe that was entirely too… well, whatever the word is when the butt’s been burnt out of something.

  “She’s got a number of black coats, doesn’t she?” he asked.

  “No, those are flowery too, just covered in soot.”

  “Oh well, no sense in wasting any more time. My house isn’t out of the way.”

  “Ahhh,” Liv tittered as Thelemule gave her a serious look… It wouldn’t help to act too suspicious just yet. “Let’s hurry, I kinda forgot about the whole police coming to arrest me thing.”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  The pair made their way very quickly down the stairs to the back door, where Liv peeked out, looking for large men with even larger swords. Thankfully, she didn’t see any.

  “You don’t happen to have any money for a carriage?” Thelemule asked.

  “No, she doesn’t trust me with money, not after the auction,” said Liv, clutching a satchel full of Scaggs’ gold, thinking that maybe the walk would give her time to come up with a better lie.

  She was hoping to find a way to skip the visit to Thelemule’s entirely, but as more-and-more people kept giving her half-naked companion funny looks, that seemed less-and-less a possibility.

  “Aren’t you cold?” she asked.

  “Yes, very,” he said as a man in overalls stopped to stare. “Ooga Booga!” Thelemule yelled sarcastically, raising his arms, embarrassing the man away.

  Liv pulled her scarf off, the blue one Miranda had given her when she was a cat, and wrapped it around Thelemule. “So people know you’re friendly.”

  Then, as they passed a group of entirely unfamiliar children, Liv said, “Hold on! I saw someone— Stay here.”

  She ran up to the group, they were school-aged, though none of them appeared like they could afford to be in school, and whispered to one at random, “Hey kid, wanna make some money?”

  That kid backed away, but another raised his hand. “I do.”

  Liv put her arm around him, pulling him aside. “You know where Thelemule’s workshop is?”

  “How much does it pay?” he asked.

  She flashed him a sovereign.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Okay, I need you to run there, very fast. Knock on the door and tell the guy that answers it that Thelemule is at the docks and needs help right away. Got it?”

  The boy nodded.

  That would have to do. Liv pulled at the boy’s shirt collar, dropping the coin in.

  When she returned, Thelemule asked, “Who was that?”

  “Just an old friend. I asked him to check around and try to find out where Scaggs is.”

  “Oh, that’s very handy.”

  “Yes, I thought so.” Yes, she was definitely going to hell.

  They started walking again, and as they passed street after street, intersection after intersection, Liv’s mind kept going back to one thought: Messer would be very proud of what she was doing, of all the lies she was telling. You know, if she was his son… and a boy.

  Would she have liked that? she wondered, if things had turned out differently.

  Liv’s stomach was twisting and turning and generally trying to escape by the time the large blue sign with ‘Thelemule’ emblazoned on it came into view.

  She felt like she should do something, say something to aid in the ruse, but the die had been cast. The little kid she’d paid a sovereign to was her best hope; though, if he had any sense at all, he would have pocketed it and ran in the opposite direction.

  Silently, she chided herself for not including the words ‘witch’ and ‘curse’ in that conversation.

  As Thelemule stepped up to the door, his hand went for the brass knocker, the dove holding a hammer, before he shrugged and snapped his fingers. The door unbolted itself.

  He cracked it open, stuck his head in, and called out, “Hello?”

  Listening with a hand to his ear, when no one answered, he shoved the door the rest of the way open and showed Liv in.

  Thelemule’s house was just as packed as Scaggs’, with bobbles and trinkets everywhere. The difference being that here, they were all well-organized. And as Liv followed him down the main hall, swear to Songs, she saw a crate at the top of a neat stack labeled, ‘Used Foil Wrap: Copper.’

  “Hello??” Thelemule called out again, and it occurred to Liv that he wouldn’t be doing this if he really believed her. Probably best not to point that out.

  When no one answered, Thelemule shrugged and made his way to the kitchen. A tray of food lay there: half-eaten fruit and a pot of tea with a hint of steam still rising off it.

  “Stephan?” Thelemule called out, eying the pot, then turned to Liv. “How long ago was he taken?”

  “Just a little while. I couldn’t see a clock where I was hiding, and I only went inside a few minutes before you got there.”

  The old wizard nodded. “Okay then. I’m going to get changed. Feel free to eat… whatever.” He motioned to the fruit and departed upstairs.

  Thinking it unwise to let him out of her sight, she asked, “Want me to come with?”

  “Let’s save fashion tips for later.” Thelemule groaned and walked out.

  Liv’s stomach growled. She’d been in situations before where she wished she had the chance to eat, so she picked up a pear and bit into it.

  What if he finds out? But how would he? Well, he is a wizard, she thought, then crept over to the stairs and listened. There was the sound of a door opening and closing, followed by a water tap turning on and off.

  And then the sound of: “Liv? What a nice surprise,” spoken in that politely over-pronounced Norian Stephan used, and in his voice, coming from right behind her.

  She spun, her eyes shooting wide.

  “What’s—what’s wrong? What are you up to… How did you get in here?” Stephan looked at her suspiciously, but in that innocent sort of way he had, like he was expecting her to throw him a surprise party rather than rob the place.

  “Ah… Th-Thelemule’s back,” she stammered out.

  Stephan’s eyes lit up. “Upstairs?” he asked, making for them.

  “No, wait!” she whispered. The pained look on her face, the confused look on his, Liv had a flashback.

  ? ? ?

  They, Stephan, Scaggs and Liv, were sitting at a table at ‘Guides,’ one of the two supposed first restaurants in Greatwen, just a few doors away from Thelemule’s townhouse.

  Stephan looked a mess, dark rings rimming his blood-shot eyes.

  Scaggs glanced over the menu and set it aside. “Yes? What did you want to discuss.”

  Stephan spoke, over pronouncing all the wrong syllables, “I haven’t seen Thelemule in three weeks.”

  “Oh, right… I probably should have mentioned. We found out that spell wears off after a week.”

  “What?” Stephan gasped.

  While Scaggs seemed to be waiting for Stephan to ask a follow-up question, and Stephan just sat there stunned, Liv raised her hand timidly. “She’s been having to change me back every week.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” said Scaggs. “He couldn’t have changed in mid-flight.” She let out a sly smile. “Though I’d love to have seen the look on his face… But it happens when you sleep.”

  “We have to find him,” Stephan raised his voice.

  Scaggs rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he’s fine. He just has a long walk ahead of him is all. Trust me, wizards can look after themselves. And if not, don’t worry, we’ll get you a new one. He was old anyway.”

  Her joke fell flat.

  ? ? ?

  A hopping noise, sure to be Thelemule putting on a shoe, came from above, and Stephan spun his head, looking up the stairs.

  With no time to lie, Liv just said, “Ms. Scaggs was arrested. She’s probably going to be executed, and the only reason Thelemule is helping me is because I told him you were arrested too.”

  Stephan’s frown turned into a glare, an angry one that didn’t suit his face.

  “If he finds out. If he finds you. She’s going to die.”

  She could practically see those words forming on his lips: ‘Wizards can look after themselves,’ or worse yet, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get you a new one.’

  And then he nodded and motioned her to follow. They stepped to a side room where Stephan slid a closet door open and squeezed inside.

  “You’ll tell him before he does anything stupid?” Stephan huffed.

  “Yes.”

  Stephan started to slide the door closed again, but Liv caught it. She opened her satchel, pulled out the Sylvan book, and handed it to him.

  “Look after this for me?”

  Stephan nodded, some of the anger fading from his face, and hid in the closet.

  Liv got back to the parlor just as Thelemule was coming down in a gray wool suit with blue accents and a jaunty top hat.

  “How do I look?” he asked, twisting a fish bone in his beard. “I thought the bones made me look… fierce, so I left them.”

  “It’s a… look.”

  “Isn’t it though?” He grabbed his cane, the one topped with a silver owl head, twirled it, and strolled down the hall, heading for the door.

  And just when he reached for the handle, someone knocked. Thelemule opened it, and standing there, fidgeting uncomfortably, was the boy Liv had paid the sovereign to.

  The boy stared at Liv, his mouth dropping open. Then his eyes snapped to Thelemule.

  “Yes?” asked Thelemule.

  Liv stared at the boy, silently giving him a single shake of her head. His face twisted as he stood there, deciding what to do. He stepped back, like he might bolt.

  “Yes…?” the old wizard repeated.

  “Thelemule docks. Need help,” the boy blurted out, tossed the sovereign at Thelemule, and took another step back.

  Thelemule rolled the coin across his knuckles. “What does that mean? Exactly?”

  To which, the boy turned and ran.

  Thelemule squinted. “What an odd boy… what do you think it means?”

  “You don’t recognize him?” she asked.

  “Never saw him before in my life. Have you?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged, feeling a bead of cold sweat. “He looks vaguely familiar, but I’ve spent a lot of time at the docks.”

  Thelemule nodded, mulling it over, then flipped the coin into the air and grabbed it. “Welp, never turn down free money. I’ll check on it tomorrow.”

  ? ? ?

  Without Stephan to drive, Thelemule hired a carriage, and as they passed the park with the dead trees, a shiver went up Liv’s spine.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “We went by here yesterday, right before everything went bad.”

  “Um… Olivia is it now?”

  “Or Liv,” she nodded.

  “All right, Liv, the thing is, I fully approve of you. I think it’s great that you’ve found yourself, but, well… the first of mages can be a teensy-weensy bit ‘old fashioned.’”

  “Old fashioned?”

  “He hates women. Loves to use the ‘w’ word.”

  “Woman?”

  “‘Witch.’ He’s probably—scratch that, he’s definitely the reason Eliza had such a hard time joining the guild. So, unless you can snap yourself back to being a boy…?”

  Liv shook her head.

  “Ah well, then maybe let me do most of the talking. And umm… don’t take it personally if I make a rude comment or two about Eliza… and um… you.”

  “Okay.” She raised an eyebrow. “What’s this guy’s name anyway?”

  “Lord Parris. And he doesn’t know I’m a-a…” Thelemule looked away.

  “A fa-fairy?” Liv’s stomach twisted.

  “Not the word I was going to use, but yes, that.”

  The carriage slowed beside a dark stone mansion styled like a castle that was both too large for a private residence and too small for a government building.

  A high granite wall encircled the grounds, and all along the top ran the belly of a great serpent, its scales bright gold. A few paces farther on, its body was twisted around a wild-eyed buck straining to free itself… made of stone, unmoving. After a moment of shock, it hit Liv: Both were statues.

  The snake wasn’t moving, but the pattern on its scales flowed along its belly like water down a stream. The effect slowed as the carriage did, and Liv moved her head back and forth to watch it shimmer.

  Peering down the length of the wall, she saw more of the snake’s victims: a wolf, an eagle, and a hare so perfectly detailed in their terror, she couldn’t tell if they were carved by hand or petrified by magic.

  When she was done gasping, she asked, “What’s that snake?”

  “It’s just a wall decoration. It keeps the curious, curious, but not too curious. Seems like every year someone tries to steal a gold scale or two, and that does not end well for them. The building beyond is the Hall of Wizards. It’s mainly a shared library, not terribly useful, and a bar, much more so. Lord Parris’s office is on top.”

  The snake ended—and began again—at the main gate where its two heads faced each other. And as a guard in an azure blue uniform let them through, a warm breeze, smelling of spring, tickled Liv’s nose.

  The grounds were filled with green grass and wildflowers, not a hint of snow anywhere, and white-blossomed trees lined the path to the main building’s front door, gilded in silver.

  It opened itself for Thelemule, and Liv followed him inside. The foyer, all polished wood, displayed a multitude of spark inventions behind glass. The most notable was a copper block with a single piston, churning up and down, spinning a wheel. As wondrous as this all was, the building looked more comfortable than impressive, though it was certainly both.

  She noted a row of metal tubes running along a wall, up one story. “What’s that?”

  “It’s for music. I think there’s an organ on the second floor.” Thelemule shrugged and walked on.

  He shushed her as they passed a reading room, and Liv spotted a row of padded red leather chairs facing the other way, with bald spots peeking up from behind their backs.

  Next was a room with a bar counter where a group of men, wizards presumably, were lined-up in front of a row of shot glasses. One wheezed as he downed his, and the others burst out laughing.

  Then Thelemule led her into a tiny room, no bigger than a closet, and closed the door behind them. He was fiddling with a control panel on the wall when he turned and saw her confusion.

  “Oh this. It’s an elevator. It’s like stairs, only for lazy people.”

  As the floor lurched upwards, Liv held her arms out, afraid of falling. A few seconds later, the doors opened onto an entirely different room.

  “Third floor,” said Thelemule, stepping out.

  Liv nodded, trying to act like this was the most natural thing in the world, and stepped off.

  A reception area greeted them where a clerk, a young man in a black and white suit, sat behind a tall desk.

  Thelemule tossed his cane into the air and caught it, pointing at the clerk. “We are here to see Lord Parris. No, we don’t have an appointment. Yes, it is a literal matter of life and death, and an urgent one at that. I am Thelemule, eleventh among wizards, and I’m asking you to let us in, as a favor, to you, so I don’t have to do anything nasty.”

  The young man almost fell out of his chair. “I would let you in, but ah… he’s not here.”

  “Where is he?”

  The clerk stood up, shaking. “Let me check. Just a second.” He opened the door behind him and slid through. A few moments later, he slid back out.

  “He’s at home, at his estate.” The clerk cowered. “Could I… take a message?”

  “Give me the address.”

  A long carriage ride and a curt conversation with a guard later, and the pair were stepping through the front door of Lord Parris’s residence, a marble mansion overlooking a park.

  This time the young man they faced was his butler.

  Thelemule repeated, though with markedly less gusto, “We are here to see Lord Parris. No, we don’t have an appointment. Yes, it is a literal matter of life and death, an urgent one. I am Thelemule, eleventh among wizards, and I’m asking you to let us in, as a favor to you, so I don’t have to do anything nasty.”

  “I’m sorry sir, but he’s in chambers right now, at the Hall of Wizards.” The man said, his nervousness sheathed in indignation. “Could I take a message?”

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