Liv woke to the sound of jingling coins. The satchel she’d given Rafe was smacking her upside the head with every bounce of the seat, and the sound of hoofbeats on cobblestone just confused her all the more.

  “Hey, wake up,” said Rafe.

  Then she remembered, they’d hired a ride, a farmer who’d been none too pleased when they beat on his door in the dead of night. That is, until they flashed him a few sovereigns.

  When she cracked her eyes open, her view was of the back of a one-horse carriage. She was lying with her head toward the middle of the bench while Rafe was pressing himself as far against the other side as possible. He was holding the satchel between them, like a shield, and she realized it was so he could wake her without touching her. If he had a problem with her being a ‘her’ now, he was not being subtle about it.

  Liv sat up, scooching over to give Rafe his space. “Are we in the city?” As her eyes adjusted, Scaggs’ townhouse resolved at the end of the row. She did a double take. “Why’d you bring us here?”

  “Isn’t this where you wanted to go? You were asleep.”

  She groaned; it was too late now. “There’s bound to be someone watching,” she whispered, and indeed there was a wagon parked in front of the house.

  “At least you got to sleep,” Rafe whispered back, glaring at her with bloodshot eyes.

  “This is Youngs Road market, right?” their farmer-turned-chauffeur asked as the carriage slowed to a stop.

  “Yeah,” said Liv, peering at the unknown wagon. Basically just a box on two wheels, it was sitting unattended save for a spotted pony hitched to the porch railing. That, and Scaggs’ front door was open.

  “We good then?” asked the farmer. “I really need to be headed home.”

  Even if they were due an encounter with whoever owned that wagon, it didn’t make sense to involve the poor farmer. Liv handed him the second of the two sovereigns they’d promised him, and the pair hopped down. They waved him off and walked, trying to appear as casual as possible, around the nearest corner.

  “What do you think?” asked Liv.

  “It ain’t the cops,” said Rafe. “At least I don’t think so. You ever seen that wagon before?”

  Liv slapped her palm against the side of the building they were standing next to, once.

  “Huh?” asked Rafe.

  “Once for no?… oh, never mind.” She shook her head. “No, I’ve never seen it. And I left the door locked.” She squinted to see better, and the door looked undamaged. “They’d need a key to get in without destroying it.”

  “Who has those?”

  “Just me. Scaggs can open it without one.” Liv took the satchel from Rafe and, reaching inside, her fingers touched the iron key. “Mine’s here. Maybe she’s back?” She stepped forward, but Rafe held the satchel out to block.

  “Give it a minute. If it is her, with the door open, she’ll be out soon.”

  Liv nodded. Rafe did have more burglary experience. Still, she let herself hope she’d see Scaggs’ scowling face under that long streak of gray hair at any second, but as the seconds turned to minutes, and then quite a few passed, that possibility faded.

  A figure appeared at the doorway, a stout workman with an armload of books. He piled them onto the back of the wagon and sort of waddled back inside.

  “What the Hells?” said Liv.

  “What?”

  “He’s robbing the place.” She shot forward, making straight for the front door and found the ‘workman’ walking down the stairs with another armload of books.

  “What are you doing?!” She stared at him.

  “You ain’t supposed to be in here,” the workman grumbled, not breaking stride.

  “Me? Really? Me?” asked Liv, thinking she’d more than hinted that he was the one out of place.

  “This is private property,” the workman said, oblivious. When he reached the bottom, he stood two heads taller than her. “You and your ‘boyfriend’ best get lost.”

  Liv shrank back. She supposed that when you were that big, you could pick and choose whichever hints you wanted to take. She looked at Rafe, who was shrinking back himself. And then she remembered, she could throw lightning. “Whose ‘private’ property?” She cocked an eyebrow.

  “A wizard.” The man puffed out his chest. “Now beat it.”

  She held up her hand, and as Ms. Scaggs had been teaching her, commanded the front door. It slammed shut. “Or a witch, maybe?”

  “What you?” The man flinched.

  And as Liv turned her hand over, palm up, blue spark arced from finger to finger, in sequence.

  “The council hired me,” he blurted out, unpuffing his chest. “I weren’t supposed to tell no one, but I guess this is for you…” He handed her a sealed note.

  She tore it open and read aloud, “Scaggs, I decided to confiscate your books before Josephine could. Hugs and Kisses, Drake.”

  “Um… what do you want me to do?” asked the workman, trying very hard to stoop shorter than Liv.

  “Put. Them. Back.” Her voice, sounding like Messer, sent a shiver up her spine.

  “Okay… okay…” He fidgeted, first like he wanted to drop the books, then like he was too afraid to. “But umm… that was the last load.”

  ? ? ?

  Dizzy, in a panic, and faint all at once, Liv’s head spun as she entered the library. All but a handful of shelves sat empty while dust, collected from years of quiet nondisturbance, glittered in beams of sunlight.

  “Where you want ‘em?” the workman’s voice echoed off the bare shelves.

  “There.” Liv pointed to the empty shelf closest to the door. “And all the rest too.”

  “But I already… dropped ‘em off… five loads.”

  “Get. Them. Back.”

  “They’re at Drake’s,” his voice wavered.

  Spark crackling through her hair, Liv glared at the man. In actuality, she felt nauseous, not angry, but she was faking as best she could. “When did he hire you?”

  “Last night.”

  “When last night? Before or after the fire?”

  “’bout an hour before. He told me to wait ‘til midnight and work through the night. Gave me a permit, for cops and such.” He held up a stamped paper.

  “How’d you get in?”

  “He gave me this.” The man fumbled through his pockets, producing a brass key, and Liv held her hand out until he surrendered it. Not like Scaggs’ key at all, this one was black and inlaid with copper, mathematical designs—Drake’s. “I was just doing a job… Everything looked legit.”

  She gave him the dirtiest look she could muster. “What else have you taken? Have you been poking around?”

  “Nothin’ I swear. He told me the library was safe, said not to go nowhere else.”

  “Fine,” Liv grumbled and then, imagining what Scaggs would have done, she reached out with her spark and tickled the man’s belly the same way she’d cleaned soot.

  The man flinched, his eyes shooting wide. “What? What was that?”

  “Unload the cart in the next fifteen minutes, never touch another of my books, and you won’t have to find out.”

  The man cowered even more, if that was possible.

  “Go.” Liv shooed him out the door and, once she heard him racing down the stairs, took in a great heaving breath. She turned to Rafe.

  He was leaning against the wall. His eyes were closed—

  “Rafe?” She rushed to him. “Rafe, wake up!”

  Eyes popping open, he looked down to where Liv was gripping his arm and shivered before pulling away. “I was just… resting my eyes.”

  ? ? ?

  A few minutes later, they were sitting in the kitchen. Liv was holding a mug out to him.

  As Rafe sniffed it, his nose curled. “What is it?”

  “Rot-brew-tea.”

  “Smells-like-shite… does it taste okay?”

  Liv shrugged. “I don’t know. Scaggs never lets me have any. But she drinks it all the time, whenever she pulls all-nighters.”

  “Is it supposed to be cold?” he asked.

  It did look gross. Liv sighed. “She usually boils it. Fire magic and all… I can’t do that, but I can get the stove going if you want to wait?”

  Rafe shook his head and sipped, his face puckering. He coughed and hacked it down, finally finishing by biting down a wheeze.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “I think so.” He nodded. “But I might just be awake from all the ah… choking.”

  She handed him all that was left of the rot brew, a single glass jar filled with rotten leaves. “Better take this with.”

  “—Umm… All done—” the workman called from the other room, and Liv went to see.

  He was breathing heavily, dripping with sweat. “Did I make it? Fifteen minutes?”

  She checked her time spell. It had been just over twenty.

  “You’ll live,” she said, then reached out with her spark and tickled his belly again. “Unless you speak a word of this to Drake.”

  The man nodded and started for the door, then stopped. Turning uncomfortably, he asked, “You think maybe he, Drake, did something? Similar I mean, to make sure I…”

  Liv bit her lip. That did sound like Drake. “I don’t know. But the less he knows, the better, and just to warn you… he is the type to tie up loose ends.”

  The man nodded, gulping. “Oh, and I weren’t going to say nothing, but whatever you got up there.” He glanced at the ceiling. “It’s been stirring.”

  “Up there, where?”

  “The attic.” The man looked at the front door. “Can I go now?”

  Liv glanced at Rafe. He was peering over his mug with curiosity as he sipped. His eyes were still red but not tired.

  “Go.” She waved the workman out.

  “What’s in the attic?” asked Rafe.

  “As far as I know… old dresses.”

  “Then why were all the windows broken?” He shrugged. “I was in there yesterday.”

  “Did you see anything?”

  “Like you said, old dresses… Creepy as shite though.”

  The pair climbed the stairs and peered down the hallway to the attic hatch.

  “We could just go,” said Rafe. “I don’t hear nothing—”

  The ceiling creaked.

  Maybe it was a better idea, just leaving. They’d already beaten the odds, salvaging a bit of Scaggs’ library. But that of course, might be for not, depending on what was up there.

  When the ceiling creaked again, Rafe touched a finger to his lips and Liv nodded. He nudged her to the library with the satchel.

  “You can throw lightning, right?” he whispered.

  “Yeah, but that hasn’t exactly worked out the last couple times.”

  “All I’ve got is this bag. I left my knife with Drake.”

  “Letter opener…” She motioned him over to the desk, opened it, and handed him back the knife he’d left there that time, back when he was robbing the place and she was a cat.

  He looked at it funny. “Thanks.”

  As they returned to the hatch, Liv picked up the attic hook-pole to bring the ladder down, but Rafe grabbed it, holding it back.

  “Give me a minute. I’ll go outside and climb up, quietly. You open the hatch, make it loud, a distraction, then I’ll jump ‘em. I’ll holler if you shouldn’t come up. But otherwise do.”

  “What if…” it gets you first, she didn’t ask.

  “If you hear me screaming.” He gave a slight smile, the first since she’d told him she was Oliver. “Don’t come up.”

  “How long?” she asked.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  “One minute.”

  Liv took a breath as the last second ticked away on her time spell. Then using the attic-pole, she hooked the brass loop connected to the hatch, reached up with her spark, and tapped the spark lock. It clunked open, and Liv pulled the ladder down.

  As dust fell from the ceiling, scurrying footsteps came from above.

  “Get up here!” Rafe yelled.

  Already rushing up, Liv’s feet landed on the attic floor.

  “There!” Rafe pointed to a crate as something scurried behind it.

  Liv drew spark into her hand, raising it. “Stand back!”

  “Wait, wait!” a shrill voice, a girl’s. “Olivia?”

  It took her a second to place. “…Rina?”

  “Don’t spark me! I’m coming out.” And then the princess of Noria stood up, looking like a street urchin, or rather like some escaped lunatic who preyed on them. Her shift, the only clothes she was wearing, was a wad of rags, blood soaked in some places, and by the smell of it, sewage soaked everywhere else. Her hair looked like something you’d pull from a drain, and she was clutching one of Scaggs’ old burnt dresses like a blanket.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Tears streamed down Rina’s face. “Ulbrecht killed Marco last night. Then he threw me off the roof.” She took a step forward, noticeably limping. “I landed in the Tembus. Well, first I slid down a hill, and then I landed in the Tembus.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “No,” she whimpered. “Not really.”

  “Why come here? Why not go to the guards?”

  “You don’t get it. Ulbrecht doesn’t just—do—things. Not without the king’s say so.”

  “Oh… oh.” Liv found her mouth gaping, aghast at the thought of anyone murdering their grandchild, but then again… Messer.

  “Coming here is all I could think of.”

  “Shite,” Rafe added.

  “Did you see Marco actually… die?” Liv asked.

  “No.” She shivered. “Last I saw, Ulbrecht was pouring poison down his throat. I think so that it would look like his fever had returned. Then he made it look like I got drunk and fell off the roof.”

  “Why?”

  “I think because we were close to freeing Scaggs.”

  Liv flinched at that. “How?”

  “I was going to recant. Tell people I paid her to kidnap me as a prank. We were going to go to the papers today, to tell everyone we could.”

  Liv spent a second contemplating if she could really trust the princess, or if this was another trick by Drake… or the king… or Josephine, but something about that felt off, and she needed the help—so she just said it, “Drake’s got fifty flame blooms in a chest. He’s the one who bombed the clock tower. He tricked me, said he could use them to get Scaggs out, and I gave them to him.”

  “Oh,” Rina and Rafe said at once.

  “Shite,” Rafe added.

  ? ? ?

  Liv handed Rina a stack of towels and opened the door to the second story washroom. It was a small white-tiled room with a simple sink, a shower, and a toilet.

  “No bath, sorry. Ms. Scaggs likes showers because they’re faster.” Liv pointed to the knobs on the wall. “You’re lucky. When I got here, it only had cold, because, you know, a fire witch can heat up her own water. But now it’s got the best heater ever, because, you know, fire witch.” She pulled a bottle off the shelf. “Use this on your wounds, so they don’t get infected. Okay?”

  Rina gave a weak smile. “Nicer than my bath at home, thank you.”

  Once the door had closed and she heard the shower start, Liv went around the corner to find Rafe, sipping more rot brew. “See anything good?” he asked.

  “Huh?” It took her a while to realize he meant the princess, accusing ‘Oliver’ of ogling her.

  Rafe shrugged. “Well, we need to figure out what we’re going to do.”

  Still annoyed at the innuendo, Liv huffed, “Go and get that sigil off you?”

  He waved the mug. “I mean after that.”

  “We need to help Ms. Scaggs.”

  “And do what? You heard her. The king is involved. You and me ain’t enough to take on the freaking Crown, and the wizards, and probably the Church too.”

  “I won’t abandon her.”

  “I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want you to die for her, would she?”

  Liv didn’t have an answer for that, not one she liked anyway.

  “Would she?” Rafe repeated.

  “Then what, go back with Dad?”

  Rafe clutched his gut. “No, not after… what he did. But we don’t have to get ourselves killed. We can lie low. I can get a job working the docks.” He looked her over, examining her body. “You can be a… barmaid, or something. We’ll get by.”

  Liv rasped out, “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll turn back into a boy at the end of the week. Scaggs was the one keeping me like this.”

  Rafe’s face lit up. “That makes it easy. We can be on a ship together. I’ll get on as a mate, and with your spark, you can be a navigator, right?” He put a hand on her shoulder. “We can go anywhere.”

  She thought about telling him to get bent, and then she thought about telling him her spark wasn’t much good as a boy. But… she had been able to get her time spell working as Oliver, and navigation didn’t take much more spark. There was sense in what he was saying. Just she’d have to give up her soul to do it.

  She shook her head. “I can’t do that. Not if there’s—”

  “She’s probably dead already. You know that.”

  Liv shrugged his hand off her shoulder. “What about her? The princess?”

  “She must have other friends, better than us anyway. We’ll drop her off, get her out of harm’s way.”

  “And the Shivari?”

  Rafe snorted, looking at her like she was either stupid or crazy. “There’s only two of us. It’s not our fight. Just think about it, okay?”

  She nodded. Sure, she’d think about it, doesn’t mean she’d actually do it.

  A moment later the shower shut off, and a moment after that, Rina’s voice called out, “Liv?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Could you help me in here?”

  Rafe’s face twisted sour, glaring at Liv as she backed toward the bathroom door. He looked like he was about to say something when Rina’s hand shot out, grabbed Liv, and pulled her in.

  The first thing Liv noticed was the princess standing in front of her, naked except for a towel. The second were the bumps, bruises, and patches of bloody skin that covered Rina’s back, her shoulders and thighs.

  “Wha-what happened?” Liv stammered out.

  “I got thrown off a roof.” Rina motioned to her back. “I can’t reach, and I don’t know much about dressing wounds. Would you do it?”

  The image of Rafe’s sour face hammered a thought into Liv’s head: You should not be seeing this girl half naked, you’re a boy, this is wrong.

  “Hey, you okay?” Rina asked.

  Liv blinked. Yes, Rina was half naked… but she wasn’t showing anything, not really. That and the scrape on her back did look bad. Not fatal or anything, but it needed attention. “Sorry, I’m not used to seeing anyone but myself… in the bathroom,” she said, blushing.

  “Oh…” Rina shrugged. “Well, I got dressed by myself for the first time yesterday. Made a mess of it.”

  And then both girls were smiling.

  ? ? ?

  “Alright, alright,” said Liv, holding an antiseptic-soaked rag. “You might want to bite down on something. This is going to sting.”

  “Okay, do it!” Rina stuffed a towel into her mouth, pressing her eyes shut. She had just started to peek when the rag touched her back. She squirmed, letting out short, quick breaths. “That wasn’t so… Bad!” she squealed as Liv dabbed at the scrape.

  When they were done, Rina had three bandages, one taped to her back, one wrapped around her ankle, and one on her shoulder.

  Liv opened the door to her room and showed the princess in. The bag was still there, the one made from the curtain with six books inside, the last thing Ms. Scaggs had touched. If only we’d been faster… or hadn’t stopped, Liv thought as she collected it and headed out the door. “Feel free to take any clothes you want.”

  “Anything?”

  Liv nodded, thinking it unlikely she would have the chance to wear any of it again, after Sunday, when she’d turn back into a boy… this time for good, because, you know, Ms. Scaggs would be dead. “Anything.” She sighed and closed the door.

  Rafe was out in the hall, leaning against the wall, sipping his mug of rot brew, eyeing Liv…

  But she hadn’t done anything, not anything a girl shouldn’t do anyway. “Yes, I know I’m going to all the Hells,” she whispered in a growl.

  He backed away, raising his hands as if to say, ‘Hey, I didn’t say a thing,’ then looked at her a long while, like he was about to say—something, a hint of gentleness on his face. Finally, he tipped his mug and retreated into the library.

  Liv ground her teeth as she went through the books in the curtain bag. She wanted to go off and read by herself, just to get her bearings, but Rina was in her room and Rafe was in the library, which only left Scaggs’ room, or the bathroom, or she guessed, the attic. So she pulled out her grandfather’s old Wordsworth dictionary and began thumbing through it in the hall.

  “Hey Liv,” Rina asked, cracking the door open. “Is this okay?” And she came out wearing Liv’s dress, the first one Scaggs had bought her, the one she assumed only she would ever wear. It looked fantastic on Rina, and that was not okay, but she couldn’t quite come up with a reason why, not yet.

  “Yes, yes, it’s fine.” Liv nodded, wanting it back. “It’s just a little dirty, I think.” She brushed at the dusty patch on the skirt where Ulbrecht had dropped her, half hoping it would become the reason why Rina couldn’t wear it. But it came right off.

  “I wouldn’t borrow it, but I need something where I can say I’m the princess and people will believe me, and if I don’t say anything, they won’t notice me, make sense?”

  Liv nodded, sighing at her own childishness.

  “But it’s a little short on me,” Rina pointed down. Her ankles were exposed, which really wouldn’t do, for propriety, or the weather, or the visible bandage.

  “I think Ms. Scaggs has stockings,” said Liv and led her into Scaggs' room.

  They started poking through the drawers. The silver comb was back on the dresser, the one that ‘Throat Ripper’ had knocked off, and an empty garment bag was laid on the bed, waiting for the dress Scaggs had gotten when Liv had gotten hers, the one that was ash now.

  And the bed under it was waiting for a witch who was probably…

  “You okay?” Rina touched her arm.

  “I’m fine, I guess,” Liv turned back to the drawer and plucked out a pair of thick black stockings. She handed them to Rina, who started pulling them on.

  “You know what I said to my grandpa when I got home from the kidnapping?”

  Liv held up the hand mirror, thinking of how it had only ever been used by Ms. Scaggs, how it had only ever reflected her face. Her eyes felt warm and watery.

  “I told him I wanted to be a witch.”

  “Is that right?” Liv gave a half-hearted chuckle.

  “But apparently… I need a spark, and apparently, I can’t buy one?” Rina mocked herself.

  “Something like that.”

  “No really. If you ever hear of a way to buy one, please tell me immediately. I’m going to get myself a pointy hat and everything.” Rina’s voice weakened as a tear rolled down her cheek. “The first thing I was going to do… was figure out a way to cure poor Marco.”

  Liv looked her in the eye. “He saved my life, you know.”

  “We’re going to get her back, you know.”

  Rina rested her head on Liv’s shoulder, and Liv did the same. They hugged for a moment. It might have only been a few seconds, but it felt like hours.

  Then they nodded to each other, collected Rafe from the library, and departed.

  ? ? ?

  As they entered the intersection, Liv expected to see the familiar building under the blue sign at the end of the street. Thelemule’s was there all right, but all the windows on the first story were smashed, debris scattered out in front, and what was left that wasn’t shattered glass was covered in scribbles of red paint. The only thing Liv could make out from that distance was the word ‘Shiv.’

  It occurred to her that it, ‘Shiv’, rhymed with her name. She didn’t much care for that.

  “Is there another way through?” asked Rina. “This place looks like a war zone.”

  As the wind kicked up, black smoke wafted from Thelemule’s windows.

  Rafe took a gulp of rot brew. “The war zone’s where we’re headed, isn’t it?”

  “Yep,” said Liv.

  “Oh,” said Rina.

  The street was silent, and while it was too early for any of the restaurants to be open, Liv doubted that mattered. Large circles of cobblestone, clear of snow, were covered in black ash, and as she passed several spots of blood, she found herself wondering if they were large enough for someone to have died.

  Probably not, she guessed… probably.

  They were climbing a barricade of broken carts about half a block from the house—

  —Her ears ringing, Liv found herself tumbling through smoke, thrown by a blast that had hit from the side—

  She landed back behind the carts as Rafe and Rina tumbled forward, disappearing over the barricade.

  A shout echoed from above, “You want to die. Keep on coming.”

  “Thelemule!?” Liv shouted over the ringing in her ears.

  “Yes?!”

  “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

  “Liv?!” a new voice shouted down, and from the way it over-pronounced the ‘i’ in her name, she knew it instantly.

  “Stephan!?”

  “Okay, okay,” Thelemule shouted, “best hurry in.”

  ? ? ?

  The front parlor was a shambles. Broken furniture, couches, shelves, and crates, one of them marked: ‘Used Foil Wrap: Copper,’ were piled behind empty window frames.

  Thelemule limped down the stairs to greet them, his owl cane, once silver, scorched black.

  “Who are they?” he asked, pointing to her companions.

  “Thelemule, the eleventh… err I guess eighth among wizards. This is Princess Alexandrina.”

  “The kidnappee?”

  Rina gave a curtsy as Stephan appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “And my brother Rafe…”

  Rafe held out his hand, but Thelemule brushed it aside, saying, “No need, we’ve practically met already. I just missed you in the harbor.” He mimed a gun with his hand and, too tired to add any charm to it, the joke came out grim.

  He continued, “This may sound rude, but I’ve had a long night. So could you just tell me what you want?”

  “We need a death spell taken off Rafe,” said Liv, “Drake tried to put it on me but missed.”

  “Oh… shuu shuu,” Thelemule sighed, looking guilty.

  “He’s the one who blew up the clock tower… to trick me into giving him the flame blooms.”

  “And?”

  She gulped. “I did. Then he told me he was going to war with the Church.”

  Thelemule lifted his brow.

  “And he’s going to frame Shivar for it,” she added.

  Thelemule’s brow fell. “Got any more of that rot brew?”

  Rafe filled his mug from Scaggs’ canister and handed it to Thelemule. The wizard sniffed at it, then downed it in a single gulp.

  They went to the library and, while Stephan kept watch at the door, Thelemule drew the curtains to examine Rafe. A glow emanated between Thelemule’s hand and Rafe’s chest as a clockwork sigil appeared, ticked forward, then back, and faded.

  “Yep, that’ll kill you alright.” Thelemule nodded.

  “Can you take it off?” asked Liv.

  “Not yet. But it will weaken over time if he can wait it out.”

  “How long?”

  The old wizard stared off into space, mumbling calculations. “…twenty-five days.”

  “I think… I’m gonna need more rot brew,” Rafe stammered out.

  “No no, that’ll kill you in five,” said Thelemule. “The problem is you need to break the timer to get at the… murdery bit, but that will set it off, so you have to do both parts at once. Drake’s spell work is too strong for me to do it right away, but like I said, it will weaken over time.”

  “So, how long for that?” asked Liv.

  “Like I said, twenty-five days. A stronger mage could do it sooner. But they’d have to be as strong as Drake.” Thelemule shook his head. “And he’s the third of mages—Slim pickings when the first is split in two.”

  “At the guild hall, Drake said the second of mages was still alive.”

  “Did he? I believe he said, ‘Volge was never heard from again.’”

  “So, I’m… dead?” Rafe whispered.

  “We’ll figure out some way to keep you awake,” said Liv.

  “For a month? How, jab a dagger up my arse?”

  “Would you rather—”

  “Scaggs could do it,” Thelemule interrupted. “I hate to admit it, but she’s as strong as anyone, probably stronger.”

  “But she’s ranked last?” Liv asked.

  “By Parris,” Thelemule gave a mocking flourish, “and Drake. They never gave her the privilege of testing her strength against anyone of note. Her matches with me were more spur of the moment affairs, but I can tell you, she’s strong.”

  “Great,” said Rafe, “and we have no idea where she is.”

  Rina held up her hand. “Top of the Tower of Silence, north side.” All eyes turned to the princess. “What? I was there yesterday when the bloom went off.”

  “Is she all right?” asked Liv.

  “Sleep deprived, starved, and annoyed, but all in one piece.”

  Liv looked Thelemule dead in the eye. “Are you going to help?”

  The old wizard’s face twisted in snark as he opened his mouth, then fell flat. “As much as I can, without getting myself or Stephan killed. Understand? Honestly, yesterday I would have said ‘no,’ but as you can see from my new landscaping, things have changed. I help you get Scaggs out, she keeps Drake from using those weapons.” He held up his hand. “You don’t need to agree, I already know she’ll do it.”

  He looked to Stephan, who nodded.

  “All right, now everyone out. I need to lock down the library…” He groaned. “And abandon the rest of the house.”

  ? ? ?

  Liv and Rina were in the back seat of Thelemule’s carriage, facing forward, while Thelemule and Stephan were in the front seat, facing back with the curtains drawn, hiding the dark-skinned pair to avoid unwanted, racial attention. The carriage’s nameplate had also been removed and was lying on the floor. Rafe was upfront driving, though there was a little window behind him so he could listen in.

  Outside, a six-story tower rose from the corner of a stone building on the far side of a plaza. A statue of the Song Mother sat before it.

  Rina leaned over Liv and pointed out the window. “She was there, on the top floor.”

  Thelemule peeked around the curtain. He spoke, his voice tinged with resentment, “The Tower of Silence. I’ve heard rumors. Back before the wizard’s council, mages used to disappear there all the time. Seems like the Church is trying to revive that tradition. How many guards are there?”

  “I saw maybe a dozen, but I heard a lot more.”

  And, as if on cue, the gate on the building adjoining the tower flung open. With the beat of marching feet, guards in red and gold uniforms, some with silver breastplates, burst onto the plaza. Around a hundred men marched out, the front-rank carrying halberds, the rest, muskets.

  Liv readied her spark, but the guards didn’t rush the carriage. No one pointed or leveled a weapon, and it soon became clear it was just coincidence. Though the rest of the soldiers ignored them, running some sort of drill, three men, one in a silver breastplate, approached the carriage.

  “Hold up,” the lead guard shouted. “What are you doing here? Open up.”

  Rina pushed the door open and stepped onto the top stair so that she stood a good foot above the men. “Commander, what’s going on?”

  One of the guards coughed, “Princess,” and dropped to his knees. The other two quickly followed suit.

  “Rise,” she said, “I’ve come to visit the prisoner. Is she still here?”

  The men rose. “Yes, Highness. But I’m under strict orders, no one enters the tower without the inquisitor… not even the king.”

  “Is she here?”

  “No, Highness.”

  “Do you normally have so many guards?” Rina motioned to the plaza.

  “No, Highness. We’re getting ready for Firstsong.”

  Rina looked at them like they were mad. “They’re still doing that? Tonight? At the cathedral? After the bombing?”

  “Yes, Highness. That’s why we’re running drills. They need every guard we can spare. The whole district is going on high alert. Shall I send for the inquisitor?”

  Rina looked back, first to Liv, who shrugged, then to Thelemule, who shook his head with authority.

  “No, no, I was just… taking my new carriage for a tour when I saw the tower and wanted to remind the witch what happens to kidnappers.”

  “Do you need protection, Highness?”

  “No, but I will watch you and your men drill. That is all.”

  After the men bowed and rejoined the others, Rina ducked back inside.

  “Verses.” She let out a nervous laugh. “That worked. I was just imitating my step-mum… Shite.”

  Rafe snorted a chuckle.

  “What’s Firstsong?” asked Stephan.

  Still looking shocked, Rina answered, “It’s the first night of Allsongs. All the clergy gather in the cathedral for a midnight choir.”

  “How many?”

  “All of them, thousands. And they invite their biggest supporters. It’s a status thing.”

  “Are they crazy? The bombs?”

  Thelemule answered, “The Church? Some of them, yes. The cardinal, not so much. He must have faith, no pun intended, in their security. They do have a few wizards working for them. That, and if he canceled Allsongs… Well, the Church does have this thing about appearing all-powerful, don’t they? Still, if ‘every guard we can spare’ is there during Firstsong… then they won’t be here.”

  “Huh,” said Liv.

  “Huh.” Rina nodded.

  “Huuuh,” Stephan over-pronounced.

  “Yeah yeah, I get it. Storm the tower,” said Rafe.

  “Ah, no,” said Thelemule. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. But whatever we do, tonight would be a very good night to do it… if it’s not a trap… for that one.” He looked at Liv. “Which is what I would do if I were Josephine.”

  “Is she that smart?” asked Rina.

  The old wizard nodded.

  And as Liv glanced at the tower, a figure, barely a shadow, appeared in the top window. “It’s her.”

  “Josephine?” Thelemule asked.

  “Ms. Scaggs,” Liv said, pushing for the door.

  Stephan held her. “Don’t.”

  “But…”

  Thelemule called up to Rafe, “Get us out of here.”

  And as the carriage began to roll, he asked, “Where to?”

  Rina raised her hand. “Could we go by the Shivari embassy? Marco thought it was important.”

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