‘I don’t care how inconspicuous he imagines he’d be. If she’s given any cause to suspect we’re watching, then Lyrham will likely have been only the first of many things to vanish on us. No one is to enter that store or so much as brush against her on the street. The only thing I want to know right now is where she goes, and when. Is that clear?’

Completely, sir. We just wished to be sure before the opportunity passed.

‘You were right to check. Is that all for now?’

Yes, sir.

‘Carry on then. Thank you.’

The ring went dead, and Rain set it down, having just enough time to scratch his chin and run a hand through his tangled hair before another lit up—this one dedicated to the River King’s chancellor who’d been working in close coordination with Rain on their mutual investigations ever since The Lady had informed the River King of her decision to confide in Rain after all. Rain touched the connection open immediately. ‘Teyllasheur?’

I’ve unsettling news.

‘Have you found Lyrham?’ Rain asked, dreading the answer.

No. But we have discovered what the Green Flame means, and who Jack the Candle is.

‘That’s excellent! So, what are we dealing with?’

The Green Flame refers to sunlight through leaves, and is an identifying phrase used among devotees of a secretive street sect in discreet reference to their mutual discipline of devotion to The Tree. Jack the Candle is apparently what the sect’s chief prophet calls himself.

‘Well…that is extremely helpful to know. …But unsettling how, exactly? Devotion to The Tree hardly sounds threatening—or even unusual.’

Precisely. Yet, have either of us ever heard of this sect? Why should the practice of such laudable devotion require secrecy sufficient to evade the notice of two royal intelligence networks?

A point, Rain conceded. A good one. ‘They’re new?’

Not according to our source.

‘Hmmm… Secrecy brings…mystery, which heightens a sense of significance and intensity?’ Rain offered. ‘Hardly a new strategy among aspiring prophets—or the self-serious members of any elite club. I’m not trying to dismiss your concern, of course. I was just braced for some much more disturbing development than this one.’

Yes. Well, that’s coming. But before I get to it, the River King has asked me very pointedly to request that you and The Lady tell absolutely no one what I am about to impart this time—not even the Ashta, please.

Rain looked down and sighed, raising a hand to rub at his eyes. What splendid timing—just one day, almost to the hour, after all but promising to keep Piper as fully and promptly informed as her mother was. ‘In deference to the River King’s concerns, we have not yet informed the Ashta of anything that passed between him and The Lady at their last meeting, and I will convey this new request to her as well, but…I do wish to register some concern about the eventual price we might pay for having treated the heir with such…apparent distrust.’

I understand that concern, and will convey it to the River King. But I trust you will understand our caution when I tell you that the source of this reconnaissance on the Green Flame, et al was the Azhon.

Rain’s head snapped up as if someone had slapped it from behind, his jaw dropping in astonishment. “Kobahl?” he gasped aloud. ‘Are you telling me—?’

—No, I’m not. He has no direct connection to this sect, or so he assures us. He just claims to have heard of it during his wanders. …You are aware of his ‘wanders,’ I assume.

‘I have heard mention of his interests, yes. Favorably for the most part. But that he should be in possession of answers that have eluded us so completely is…’

Unsettling?

‘Yes. …If it is not an indictment of him, then of us perhaps?’

So his father observed, just this morning. We have no concern about the Azhon’s loyalties or integrity, but you can see how it might look to others. Beyond the one casual inquiry which led to this discovery, we have not explained any of our concerns in this regard to him, any more than we have shared the rest of this investigation with him yet either. Both he and the Ashta are bright and gifted, but young and overconfident, and the fewer who know, the less chance that some hint of our concern might express itself where our quarry will notice.

‘I understand, and doubt The Lady will object to your request. Thank you for letting us know. I’ve nothing new to report on Lyrham’s disappearance yet—or on Jonah’s. We’re watching the woman I spoke of closely, though so far, she’s done nothing suspicious. I will, of course, notify you immediately if anything occurs. Is there anything more we should discuss?’

Not yet. But best keep my ring with you if you’re going anywhere.

‘Not likely.’ Rain sat down with a heavy sigh. ‘I’ve hardly left this office for two days.’

I feel your pain, as the Azhon has taken to saying lately. Good luck, Chancellor.

‘Thank you, Chancellor.’

Rain dropped the ring into his pocket, leaned back in his chair, and yawned loudly. Then he straightened toward his desk again to touch a stone set in brass on the desk’s inward edge.

“Chancellor?” came The Lady’s disembodied voice.

“My Lady, I’ve just had news from Teyllasheur, which I believe you will want to hear—and perhaps discuss.”

“Well, isn’t that timely?” she replied. “I was just about to send for you. Piper and I have just finished a very…unsettling conversation, over breakfast…for which, it seems, I have you to thank?”

Rain grimaced up at the ceiling. He was so tired, his skin hurt; and now this to deal with on top of all the rest. “It seems a morning for unsettling conversations, my Lady. May I ask how that conversation went?”

“I am left with questions, Chancellor, which I was hoping to discuss with you in person, though I know how very taxed you are. Are you able to get away, or shall I come there?”

“If you will permit me to arrive with a pocket full of message rings, my Lady, I believe it would do me a great deal of good to get out of this room for a while.”

“Then I will prepare for your arrival, Chancellor.”

She broke the connection, and he rose to get his coat, sweeping the rings on his desk into his large vest pockets as he passed, and expending just enough energy to freshen himself by more than usually expedient means as he headed for the door. Moments later, he was striding through The Lady’s wood, which was bright and breeze-tossed this morning, relishing the fresh air on his face and in his lungs, even as he continued to parse what he’d just learned from the River King’s chancellor.

Just as Teyllasheur had said, Kobahl’s complicity in anything nefarious was unthinkable. The Azhon adored both of his parents, and sought, with almost awkward earnestness at times, to please and impress them. Besides, if he’d actually been involved with whatever this Jack the Candle might be up to, Rain could not imagine why he’d have volunteered any of the information Teyllasheur had just conveyed. But the fact that a boy of Kobahl’s tender age had so readily supplied more information about this matter than even the Archivist seemed to possess spoke volumes about how freely and widely he must ‘wander’ out there. Had his father known how exposed his heir must be to the sorts of places and people such knowledge had likely come from? Should the River King not have been a little more concerned for Kobahl’s safety?

Which sent Rain’s thoughts right back to his conversation with Piper the previous morning. Certain things she’d said still haunted the peripheral mental spaces of his mind not fully occupied by his search for Lyrham and Jonah.

Piper too had once wandered freely—until finding herself suddenly at the mercy of Anselm’s oafish security guard one night, who had, understandably perhaps, failed to recognize The Lady’s heir sneaking around in the dark at his master’s doorstep—without anyone’s leave or knowledge. The least nod to prudence had seemed to dictate reining her in after that. …But what had they done to her in the process? Where, in hindsight, was the line of balance between managing risks to her safety, and damaging her spirit? In spite of his daughter’s example, the River King had clearly come down in a very different spot on that continuum with Kobahl than The Lady had with Piper. And—as Piper had acknowledged yesterday—Kobahl was now celebrated as the more promising leader… Had The Lady and her chancellor overcompensated after that fateful night, or was Kobahl’s ‘Piper moment’ merely still ahead of him?

Since their conversation, Rain had wondered about his own impact on Piper’s trajectory too. Between her narrow escape from Cullen, and her subsequent decision to drag Rhymer right into their Temanghath, she had scared the very breath out of him ten years ago. Had he been too hard on her after that—for too long, perhaps? He still found it curious that she had opened up to him, of all people, yesterday morning. There was her rather incredible explanation, of course, about covering a petty lie. But that odd imperative—from someone who had never seemed at all inclined to petty lies—had hardly required her to bare her heart to him as well. She was as nimble of mind as anyone Rain had ever met, and could easily have invented any number of trivial excuses to explain her visit. Was he…really the best choice of confessors available to her? …If so, whose fault was that?

Deeply lost in thought, Rain suddenly found himself before The Lady’s house—where she waited to discuss all this with him. As he started up the mansion’s stairs, he wondered what kind of discussion this would prove to be. An exit interview perhaps? He grinned to himself, almost certain that the idea was purely humorous.

As he reached the porch, the door was opened for him by The Lady’s adolescent page, who waved him through as placidly as ever. Jordan would be fully grown soon. A lifetime without even words, much less risky adventures, Rain thought as they proceeded through the house. Piper’s assertions about their condescension to Jordan’s kind came back to him as well.  Do you love us or resent us? Rain wondered silently, imagining the poor lad an old man still opening The Lady’s doors, and running half-invented errands in expressionless silence. Do you think of us as family, or as captors? he wondered. What will you think of us, or of your life, on the day you die here of old age? …How much does any of us truly shape the larger outlines of our story?

At The Lady’s parlor, Jordan opened the door for Rain, and stepped aside with a bow to let him enter before pulling the door shut again with himself outside.

“There you are,” The Lady said pleasantly. “Have you had any breakfast yet?”

“As it happens, I have not.” He surveyed the spread of pastry, fruit, and cheese on the table between them, only just then realizing that he was, in fact, quite hungry.

“I thought not,” she said, beckoning him toward a chair before the feast. “We had a lot left over, as you see. I asked them not to clear it, hoping you might see to that.”

“I doubt I’ve room for all of it,” he said, sitting down and reaching for a pastry. “This is the remains of your breakfast with Piper?”

“We didn’t eat a lot,” she said, primly. “We just talked primarily.”

“I see…” He bit off a mouthful in order to excuse himself from any further reply.

“So, I am curious, Chancellor, what thoughts, if any, you may have regarding the assertion that I tend to care for both the Andinalloi under my protection, and my daughter specifically, as if they were hamsters.”

Rain just managed to swallow without choking on a spasm of something between laughter and an urge to flee. “Hamsters, my Lady?” Had the reckless girl really said that? To her mother? …Good for her!

“Don’t bother feigning confusion, Chancellor. I’m well aware that she’d already said as much to you before you very rightly redirected her complaint to me. And when did the Andinalloi start keeping hamsters in cages—apparently the point of my daughter’s comparison?”

“Only recently, my Lady. Between the last two wars in Europe, if I’m not mistaken.”

“And no one’s said a word to me about it?” She looked peeved. “It’s unconscionable. Fish are one thing, but first birds, and now this? Rodents are far too intelligent to suffer such captivity without pain. Something should have been done to discourage it before it became fashionable.” She sighed. “That sort of behavior plays right into Anselm’s hand.”

“Indeed, my Lady. …Not that the Andinalloi have any way of knowing that.”

“Well, no; of course not,” she huffed. “But stop dodging the question. Am I the infantilizing husbandman of the Andinalloi—and the patronizing jailer of my own daughter?”

Rain set his pastry down. “She said that?”

“Nothing like so succinctly; but yes, I think she did. And in attempting to sort through that conversation…I find myself desiring a second opinion.”

Rain cursed his luck—and Piper—while gathering his thoughts. “My Lady…I do not mean to dodge the question. But—”

“You think the accusation has some merit then,” she cut in quietly.

“I said no such thing,” Rain protested, perhaps a tad defensively.

“You did not say, ‘Of course not. That’s absurd,’” she observed with disappointment.

“My Lady,” Rain said wearily, “I was simply preparing to ask whether there might not be an even more important question here. Surely you see even better than I do what this moment means. In Piper’s life. That’s why I urged her to come speak with you.”

“Of course I do. And you were entirely right. I am glad of her sudden self-assertion, and am not the least bit inclined to discourage her. She reiterated the request, which I gather she made of you yesterday, to be more fully and promptly informed, and I agreed with her wholeheartedly. I even recounted my meeting with her father—in every detail.”

Rain failed to contain a grimace at this news.

“You think that I should not have, Chancellor?”

“On the contrary,” he sighed. “I think she should be far more fully trusted and included than she has been lately—as I told the River King’s Chancellor just moments ago after being asked to keep this morning’s news from her as well. I had also just assured him that we had honored the River King’s request to tell Piper nothing of the rest so far. I am made a liar now—which will have to be explained somehow. But no, since you ask, I think you were right to tell her. I believe we have erred badly in treating the Ashta precisely like the unequipped and untrustworthy person we’ve been hoping she’d stop seeing herself and behaving as.”

The Lady nodded, pensively. “I am sorry to have undercut you, Chancellor, and will speak, myself, with the River King as soon as we are done here, to clean up that misunderstanding, and insist that we abandon this ridiculous injustice to Piper. I should never have agreed to it in her case, any more than I did in yours.” Her gaze became unfocused. “When did I become such a fool?”

“With all respect, my Lady, none of us are fools. We are just too close to some decisions to see them whole and clearly. Which brings me to the rest of her assertion.”

“The rest?”

“About our protection of the Andinalloi.”

Her brows arched. “I am listening, Chancellor.”

“Piper blames our lack of interest in Rhymer or his former life for our anxiety about his place in all this now. Did she tell you that?”

“She did,” The Lady said, sadly. “Just before she mentioned hamsters, I believe.”

“And it’s precisely your concern for those caged hamsters—or rather my response to those concerns—that has brought Piper’s meaning into focus for me: that the Andinalloi have no means of understanding any of what’s at stake, for them or for us, in regard to anything they are or do.” Rain fell silent, grappling with how best to express this still coalescing insight. “Our protection…changes nothing about who they are or what they do. They go on hurting us, themselves, the world—while we keep trying…just to protect them.” He brought a hand up to massage his chin. “What do we achieve in the long run?”

“We prevent them from becoming monsters even faster as we drain them of the very resources that nourish and promote what’s brightest and most valuable about their kind,” she said severely. “Who should understand that more thoroughly than you or Piper do?”

“Yes, but it does not ultimately prevent them from becoming monsters anyway—someday. Someday sooner all the time.” He felt a wave of sadness rising up to knock him off his feet. “That fact too plays into Anselm’s hand, and…suddenly I find myself with no ready way to rebut his assertion that we do nothing but gradually disarm ourselves in preparation for the day when we can no longer save them—from us or themselves.”

Her face had grown hard. “So, what would you suggest I do to remedy this error in our approach, Chancellor?”

He drew a long breath, shoving that demoralizing wave back into the deeps from which it had arisen. “You just suggested that they should have been discouraged from putting hamsters in cages, my Lady. But what could we have done to influence the behavior of people to whom we are not just invisible, but nonexistent?”

She tilted her head. “Something to make imprisoning them as pets seem less desirable? Create some dreadful smell around them, maybe.”

“Oh, most of their cages already smell dreadfully, my Lady. The Andinalloi just grow used to it. You know how adaptable they are.”

“Well, something else then. What is your point?”

“My point is that the only way to protect them—in the long run—is to change things—about what they do, and why they do it—and how they impact us, and every other kind of life around them.”

“And we would do this how?” she asked with apparent interest.

“…I have no clear idea, my Lady, except that it would require more than our protection. It would require some kind of engagement. I believe that is what Piper’s trying to say. If we truly want to help the Andinalloi, we must think of them as…as partners in some way, not just helpless animals to be protected.” He shrugged. “I made no attempt to engage Matthew Rhymer. The idea never crossed my mind. He was just a problem to be solved. A creature, however precocious at times, to be trained and steered and outmaneuvered. She is right. I cared not at all about who he was, or who he’d been. I was just annoyed that he had ended up in my yard to be dealt with. If I had seen then what Piper’s called to my attention now, who knows how much of what we’re wading through would never have arisen?”

The Lady studied him in silence for a while—rather as if studying a bug. Was this how Rhymer had felt looked at by them all? “And how do we engage in partnership with those who don’t know we exist?” she asked at last. “Those who mustn’t know—ever again.” She looked at him with…sympathy, perhaps? “You are comparatively young, Chancellor—as is my daughter. You both know the old stories, better than most, but you were not there to experience what actually happened when the Andinalloi knew that we were there as well. If that is the engagement you suggest, allow me to assure you that the results would simply prove all of Anselm’s rhetoric correct with breathtaking speed. The Andinalloi would lose even our protection then. It would be war—not just between ourselves, but between us and the Andinalloi—within mere years, perhaps, given how quickly the world moves and changes now. And all of us would lose.”

She fell silent again, continuing to gaze at him until his eyes fell.

“I will think on all you’ve said, Chancellor. However it may seem, I never dismiss lightly anything you think or say. But perhaps it’s time we moved on to this news you mentioned from Teyllasheur.”

“Oh. Yes…” He found himself tempted to gallows laughter. This would make a marvelous departure from ‘less comfortable topics.’ “I am sorry to bring you more parental strife than I already have, my Lady, but we’ve finally learned something of both the Green Flame and Jack the Candle. According to The River King’s chancellor, the source of this reconnaissance was the Azhon, who seems to have been familiar with both phrases for some time now.” The Lady had grown very still; never a good sign. So Rain hurried to assure her that there was no cause to suspect her son of anything, and fill her in on all Kobahl had told them. “Apparently, he’s heard of all this somewhere on his rambles through the city.”

The Lady’s silence stretched, but her gaze, he realized, had once again turned inward.

“I am informed,” Rain said, more to fill the uncomfortable silence than for any better reason, “that the Azhon has not been told anything about the significance of this information, or any of the reasons for our inquiry. And the River King has once again requested, strenuously, I’m told, that Piper be left out of this as well.”

“I will put an end to all of that foolishness shortly. Have no more concern for it,” she said, still gazing at something inside herself. Finally, she looked at him again. “The Archivist offered me a strangely personal warning, just before he left.” That the Archivist had offered her anything at all still alarmed Rain deeply. “I could make no sense of it then,” she continued, “but I believe I see it now. All too clearly. When I visited the River King, I asked Kobahl to come here for a visit—which he seemed eager to do. But his father and I decided later that, given current volatilities, that visit might be best delayed.” She stood up and paced to the little fire in her hearth, then to a window to gaze out at her sun-dappled woods. “That too was a poor decision, I believe.” She turned back to Rain. “It seems I have more and more to discuss with the River King this morning. We’d best move along. What of Lyrham? Has anything developed there?”

“No, my Lady. We continue to watch the woman and her shop quite closely, but there’s been no sign of Jonah, nor has she done anything suspicious. Our search is not limited to that location, of course, but given that the intercepted letter at the start of all this was intended for her as well, I still find the fact that this fellow Jonah turns out to be a customer of hers a little too—” He was interrupted by the soft energetic concussion of a message ring lighting in his pocket. He glanced down briefly.“With your permission, Lady?”

“Of course,” she said, coming to touch the ring as well when he had pulled it out.

It was Teyllasheur’s, and Rain answered it aloud, given The Lady’s presence. “Hello again, Chancellor. I am with The Lady, who, as you can doubtless tell, is joining us.”

My Lady.

“Chancellor,” she replied. “What is happening?”

We’ve found Lyrham. Rain and The Lady exchanged an apprehensive glance. He was in a dumpster in the Saddle. I’m not sure we arrived in time.

“Not sure?” Rain asked.

Thaniel’s Vise—again. Just like your courier before the flood. The Lady’s countenance turned stony. Rain’s own mouth tightened in acknowledgment of the implications. Sadly, Lyrham’s been a good deal longer in its grip than the last man. He’s with our healers now, but we’ve no indication yet about what might be hoped for. We’d just been notified of the rumor that led us there when you and I last talked. I didn’t know yet what it meant, Rain. But the common thread seems all too clear at this point, does it not?

“Not quite clear enough,” said Rain. “Until we find out whether it’s the woman, or her elusive customer, I’d still rather not let either of them know we’re watching. If we take her, and it turns out to be him instead, we’ve locked ourselves out. I’ve already got something in the sky above her shop. If there’s anything under it that we can access without drawing too much attention, we’ll put someone—or something—there too, and make sure nothing moves within a block of that shop, or of her, that we don’t know about.”

Any resource we can supply is at your disposal, of course.

“Thank you,” said Rain. “And, of course, please notify me as soon as there’s any change in Lyrham’s condition. If he can tell us who did this to him, our quandary is likely solved.”

Of course, Chancellor. My Lady.

“Teyllasheur,” said the Lady, “please ask the River King to contact me directly at his earliest convenience. Tell him that a few of our arrangements need to be revised.”

After the briefest pause, Teyllasheur replied, Certainly. Is there anything else, my Lady?

“Is there, Chancellor?” she asked looking at Rain. “Rain, I mean,” she clarified as the other chancellor’s uncertainty expressed itself across the quantum link.

“I have nothing more,” Rain said. “Thank you, Chancellor.”

You’re welcome, Chancellor. My Lady.

The ring went dead, and Rain looked up as he slid it back into his vest pocket, to find The Lady looking back with concern. “So, what does this tell you?” she asked.

“Jonah or Stacy,” said Rain. “Or both, of course. But my gut says Jonah. Lyrham’s last instructions were to cultivate the man’s acquaintance and drop a careful reference to the Green Flame. Then he turns up locked in Thaniel’s Vise, just like our waylaid courier. That was stupid of whoever did it—as was the dumpster. If one wishes to remain invisible, one doesn’t leave victims alive where they might be found, nor run around using the same distinctively unusual mechanism again and again. I recall meeting Stacy once or twice just after she first came to Rhymer’s attention. She struck me as pitifully naïve, of course, but never stupid. From what I’ve heard of Jonah, on the other hand, he is an extremely simple fellow, or playing one very convincingly.” He paused to sort his thoughts. “Stacy, Jonah, the Green Flame and Anselm. They are all connected now in one way or another, but how many of those connections are meaningful, and what is the real meaning of those that are? This is all far from untangled, my Lady, but we are finally in motion.”