Rain arrived at The Lady’s door hardly able to remember his brisk passage through the keep’s hallways or the shady wood surrounding her house. Not the vaguest outline of a plan had magically coalesced in his chaotic mind yet. Only iteration after iteration of possible apologies.

“Come in, Rain.” The Lady’s voice came softly, but clearly, through her closed door.

He pushed it open, wondering where her page had gone, and found The Lady and her daughter seated there, gazing up at him inquisitively. He went immediately down on one knee and bowed his head. “My Lady, Ashta, I fear I have failed you both, catastrophically.”

“Very pretty,” said The Lady. “Now, get up, please, and explain what’s happening.” He rose to find her holding out a message ring of her own. “I have just this moment heard from the River King’s chancellor, asking what we know about the kidnap of Colleen Fischer. It seems his attempt to contact you directly was thwarted by some functionary who insisted you were not to be disturbed—causing the chancellor further agitation, I gather. It was awkward having to inform him that this was the first I’d heard of it.” She paused, not quite a breath. “You do not seem surprised.”

Piper merely went on gazing at him, with what looked like pity.

“I’ve just heard of it myself, My Lady.” Rain forced himself to continue looking her in the eye. “From the man assigned to Dustin Clarke. I’ve been racing to manage the event until this very moment. In fact, I must apologize for the batch of message rings in my pocket, which, I fear, may lead to further interruption, even here, if My Lady will forgive it.”

“The only thing I may not forgive at this point, Chancellor, is any further terror of me.” The Lady still spoke softly, but remained unsmiling. “Unforeseen events occur. Good plans go awry. Who would know that better than myself, and who should know better than you how unhelpful fear of one’s superiors is at such times.” She gestured at an empty chair across the table from herself and Piper. “Please sit down, and explain how you’ve failed us.”

Rain sat, as asked, unable to remember when he’d last felt so young and inexperienced. The Lady was right, of course—about all of it. As always.

“Anselm has taken her?” Piper asked before he could speak. He heard anger underneath her quiet words, saw it behind her eyes, and was not reassured. She did…unexpected things when she got angry.

“I have every reason to believe so, Ashta, though we have no certain confirmation of it yet. According to our operative following the boy, a very conspicuous ransom note was left on her bedroom wall. ‘We want someone you know how to find. Care to trade?’ I believe.”  He gave them a half-aborted shrug. “I can think of no one more likely to have sent such a message than our old friend. Though, inexplicably, it was left cast in song, by means of yet another geist-stone.”

Brows rose on both women’s faces. “Why on earth…?” asked Piper.

“Why not just write it there—normally?” The Lady added.

“We are all wondering the same,” said Rain. “Anselm seems to care less and less about concealment lately…for some reason. In observance of our laws against detection, my man erased the message and collected the stone as soon as Dustin left the room—which may do the boy no favor when their investigators go seeking the note he reported. It will likely…not reflect well on his own credibility.”

“It could hardly have been left there for the Andinaloi to investigate,” said The Lady.

“No. Though, in hindsight, one might wish he had removed it after someone else had seen it,” Rain said, “for the boy’s sake. That would likely have done little to increase whatever harm its presence has already done.”

“In regard to harm already done,” The Lady replied, “how did Anselm manage this travesty right under our watchful eyes?”

And here it was: the dreadful edge. “Our watchful eyes were trained on Dusty, My Lady. And on his adoptive mother. This is where and how I’ve failed you.” He looked down, took a breath, and began to explain the cascade of poorly examined assumptions that had made the girl’s abduction possible. “But, as dire as this development is, My Lady,” he said, having outlined his first set of errors, “I have come to inform you of an even graver threat that…has come to my attention only in the past few moments.”

Piper’s brows rose even farther. She glanced at her mother in obvious concern.

“You have my full attention, Chancellor,” said The Lady.

“As you know,” Rain began, swallowing both fear and pride as best he could, “I’ve also had operatives placed near the boy’s adoptive mother, Anna, these past two weeks, as she too was a close friend of Matt’s before he vanished. Happily, both Anselm and the River King seem to have remained focused on Dustin alone, as far as we can tell—which is why only our man, I believe, was present this afternoon to overhear a conversation between his parents just after the boy called them to report Colleen’s abduction. During that conversation, Anna made reference to documents of some kind, sent to them by Rhymer himself. Recently, it seems.”

Piper’s mouth fell open. The Lady just grew very still, gazing at him like a hunting cat.

“I am told,” Rain continued, “that she felt the police would want to see these documents and was about to retrieve a portable computer from elsewhere in the house when her husband reminded her that everything was on their phones already. ‘Emails,’ it seems.”

“What’s in these emails?” Piper asked, impatiently.

“That is what I have just learned.” Rain gathered sufficient breath to fill his next words. “Apparently, Rhymer has seen our original letter—somewhere. And, for reasons I cannot begin to imagine, has responded by sending his old friends some kind of very long, very detailed account of…well, everything most likely. …Beginning with your first meeting in that alleyway, My Lady, and the transformation he believes you worked on him.”

The Lady shot to her feet as if the cushion under her had just caught fire, glaring at Rain as if she might incinerate him then and there with her eyes alone.

He gaped up at her, braced for a blow, and, for all his dread of this moment, astonished at her response. He had never, ever seen her composure compromised beyond a frown, or a raised eyebrow. Judging by the Ashta’s fearfully pale, wide-eyed expression, neither had she.

The Lady threw her head back to face the ceiling, and shouted, “WHY?”

The word surged physically through Rain’s body, the house, the ground and forest beyond, like the recoil from some massive punch. Items all around the room teetered and tumbled from ledges and shelves. Tinkling thumps and crashes came from other rooms as the house’s walls swayed and creaked. Beyond The Lady’s windows, Rain saw great trees sway as well, as birds burst from branches and undergrowth, tweeting and squawking protests.

As the world slowly ceased to lurch, Rain and Piper sat, frozen, staring at The Lady. In the distance, shouting voices rose; doubtless The Lady’s guard rushing to her protection. As if the woman Rain had just glimpsed—for the first time in his life—could need any protection they might have to offer.

The Lady looked down at last, and turned her fearsome gaze on Piper, who cringed back in her chair, staring at her mother with such overt fear and remorse that Rain’s heart split for her.

“Please, My Lady,” he croaked, pulling breath and words from somewhere, “this…is my fault. Not hers.”

The Lady’s gaze swung slowly back to him, just as a tear escaped the cornice of her eye to streak down her cheek. …Just the one. “I will be slaying no one here today,” she said roughly, struggling, it seemed, to pull herself back again from…whatever she had just become. The shouting in her woods was growing closer. “What I shall do to Matthew Rhymer, when I find him,” she said fiercely, heading for the chamber doorway, “I cannot yet say.”

Throwing the door open, she strode out, and down the steps of her porch. “I am only angry, not in danger!”she called into the woods—not as goddess this time, but only as the ruler of her realm. “I require no assistance.”she added, as guardsmen came sprinting into view between the trees. Rain, twisted around to watch now, saw confusion and concern on the guardsmen’s faces as they stumbled to a halt, glancing uncertainly at each other, and at The Lady. “Go back,” she said, more gently, “with my thanks, and…my apology for interrupted tasks.”

Some of them bowed before they left. Some merely backed away, still gazing at her as if unsure what to believe. All of them looked fearful.

Though her instructions had been only loud enough to carry this time, Rain had no doubt they’d been heard just as clearly in the farthest corners of the keep as he had heard them where he sat. All that power, she kept largely concealed—for decades, if not centuries at a time. For a moment, Rain could almost pity Anselm. Almost. Did the fool begin to understand what tail he’d been pulling all these years?

The Lady returned and sat down in her chair again, to gaze back and forth between them. Then she bowed her head and closed her eyes; whether in exhaustion, chagrin, or contempt of them, Rain dared not guess. “I won’t ask you not to be afraid,” she said, quietly. “But neither can I have you two in such a state right now. I need clear heads to help me sort this out, so…forgive me this, I beg you. I do what I must, as must we all from time to time.”

Even as she spoke, Rain felt every knotted muscle and tendon in his body begin to slacken. His anxiety started to evaporate like water off a warm griddle, as rapidly replaced by a warm sense of calm and safety, mixed with…apologetic entreaty. It wasn’t at all subtle. What she was doing broke rules and boundaries that their people had agreed centuries ago to hold sacred between themselves. It was a violation of personal agency, individual sovereignty, and basic privacy almost as threatening to her continued viability as ruler here as anything that might be contained in Matt Rhymer’s ill-advised confessional.

It was also a considerable relief. As she’d intended.

He understood why she was risking such a thing, as Piper must too; though Rain did wonder how such profound intrusion would sit between a daughter and her mother. The question passed through him without any real trepidation, however. Real trepidation was, for the moment, as impossible to feel as it was impossible to calculate who among the three of them owed more to any of the others at this point.

“Now,” The Lady said, making no attempt to cover what had just occurred with a smile, but clearly in full possession of herself again. “I need some questions answered simply and directly.” She turned to Rain. “Who has seen Rhymer’s manifesto at this point?”

“Small parts of it have been seen by one or more of the party sent to retrieve them, My Lady, though I have forbidden them to read any more of it, or to discuss it amongst themselves before being debriefed here. I think we must also assume, for now at least, that the entire document has been read by Dusty and all three members of his immediate family. I have no way of knowing who else might have seen it, but I’ve already had the family’s phones, computers, and other digital devices rendered inoperable. Their houses are being searched as well, for any physical copies, and our specialists are working to trace and remove the files from any servers they may currently be stored on. I have ordered a single copy of these documents preserved, of course, as at least one of us must read through all of it as quickly as possible. But, given our team’s ability to enter and navigate Andinol electrical systems viscerally, this should not take long—at least, if Matt sent them from within the city.

“If he did not?” The Lady asked.

“Then our people may have to swim far greater distances, My Lady, inspecting and cleansing any number of other servers, at who knows how many other locations around the world, which would be much more time consuming, even for us. But, as Rhymer seems to have been here to save his friend during the flood, I think it reasonable to hope he’s been sending these missives from somewhere nearby as well. If so, our specialists will likely have only the city’s local servers to deal with. Either way, I have hope as well that the path may finally lead us back to Rhymer himself now.”

“I would be so very glad of that,” The Lady said, darkly. “What of the abducted girl, and her devices?”

“Her phone and portable computer were both still with the car from which she was taken, and…have been rendered inoperable as well. Though…again, I am unable to make sense of why they were left behind. If Anselm’s operatives have already harvested Rhymer’s lethal documents from them, I can see no reason for taking the girl as well. But, if whatever she’s read conveyed Rhymer’s story in sufficient detail,” Rain looked down, unsettled by the idea even in this emotionally muffled state, “perhaps the girl will understand what Anselm is and wants, and be wise enough to tell him nothing.”

The Lady nodded. “Let us hope so.” She looked at each of them again. “So, what can we do now to contain this?”

Rain shrugged. “I think it best just to tell my task force that the boy in question has suffered some kind of breakdown since his disappearance. Fortunately, any reasonable person is all but sure to think his claim of transformation …too far outside the realm of credible possibility. But…we must also stress to them that Anselm will not shrink from twisting such lunacy against you, My Lady, if he is allowed any chance to try, and tell them that this material is to be buried as deeply as any of the rest of what they’d been told before today, and rendered irretrievable. I think they’ll find no cause to question such an explanation.”

“And the girl herself?” asked The Lady. “Can she not expose it all in spite of such precautions?”

“We have to steal her back from him,” said Piper. “As quickly as possible.”

Despite the calm imposed on him, Rain shook his head with something like urgency. “We must not repeat old mistakes, Ashta. That would only—”

“Not me,” she cut him off with a sigh. “I’ll stay well away from any part of it this time—for all the obvious reasons. I meant you, and your merry band of experts.” She gave him an almost affectionate smile. “If ever in our lives there’s been need of a little top-shelf derring-do, this is surely it.”

“Forgive me, Ashta,” Rain said, “but any rescue of another Andinol waif can only—”

“—be seen as a perfectly appropriate response to precisely the kind of crime we’ve forbidden for a century now,” Piper interjected. “Matt had not been brazenly kidnapped by one of our own, Rain. And this girl has not been transformed into anything. There is no scandal this time. Just an obvious crime. We would look false to our own stated principles if we did not address it.” She gave him an arch look. “I know you can do it, Rain. I bet you even want to. To fix your little ‘oops.’ Don’t you—deep down—really?” The smile she gave him now was pointedly wicked.

The Lady gazed at her daughter. “I think Piper may be right this time, Chancellor.” She turned to look at him. “Perhaps we have been too indecisive, and look where that has brought us. As soon as the current crisis is sufficiently managed—if not sooner—I would like you to apply every resource at our command to the task of retrieving this girl. If this threat is not rectified quickly and thoroughly, it will likely matter not at all what other trouble we get into.”

Rain looked back and forth between them, unable to summon the objections he knew he would wish he’d voiced after this dubious trance wore off. But even that thought only made him bite his lower lip to suppress a grin. Damn if the reckless girl wasn’t right about one thing; he’d wanted to blacken Anselm’s eye for such a very long time. “As you command, My Lady. But I must point out that, even if we succeed, we can hardly just send her home. We can only wrest her from Amselm’s grip to make her our own honored guest instead. Anselm won’t be able to object openly to her second abduction without admitting to her first. But she wouldn’t be safe from him anywhere but here, and we ourselves could hardly risk setting her free to pass around whatever Rhymer has revealed. Not until we’ve come up with some way to address and defuse it, at least. Speaking of which, we must decide either way what to confide in, or withhold now, from the River King.”

The Lady sighed. “I’ll speak with him myself, just as soon as I’ve seen what’s actually in this…document of Rhymer’s. I want a copy the instant it reaches your hand.” She sighed, and leaned back in her chair.  “Just one other thing, Chancellor; please make formal request to the Archivist for audience as soon as he will see me, if he will at all. Here or at whatever place he wishes; it matters not to me.”

Both Rain and Piper leaned forward in surprise.

“My Lady, please pardon this extreme presumption,” Rain said, quite aware that ten minutes earlier he’d have bathed in fire before questioning her judgment aloud this way, “but, are you absolutely certain? …You will be required to answer any question he may ask you.”

The Lady smiled ruefully, in acknowledgment, perhaps, of her responsibility for his sudden lack of decorum. “I’m well aware of our laws regarding conversation with the Archivist.”

“He’ll know if you’re lying, Mother,” Piper said, as deprived of discretion just then as Rain was. “Or even just withholding something.”

“Which is why I will answer any question he may ask me, honestly,” The Lady said, “as any monarch not an imbecile would know to do.”

“But…if he asks you about…you know what,” Piper pressed, looking somewhat wounded, “you’ll tell him?” When The Lady simply gazed at her without answer, Piper added, “You’ll tell him, but not me?”

“We are done discussing this.” The Lady rose from her chair in clear if gentle dismissal.

Rain felt the pleasant cloak of security within him start to fade. Oh dear, he thought. I’d better leave. Who knows what I might say—to either of them—if I’m still here when this is gone. Piper stood at the same moment, perhaps sharing the same thought.

As he headed for the door, just steps ahead of Piper, Rain felt the warmth of quantum agitation blossom in his coat pocket, and glanced down to spy one of the message rings alight inside it. He reached down to touch it as he stepped into the woods. ‘Speak.’

Sir, the boy’s being taken to one of their stations for more questioning. They’re putting him in a vehicle now. Your instructions?

‘Follow him. Ride the car’s exterior, if need be. Get into the building and stay close enough to monitor everything that’s said or done there. His parents should be close by now. Officers still at the complex when they arrive will likely direct them to wherever he’s been taken. If possible, position yourself at the station where you can watch the boy and still intercept his parents when they arrive. Under no circumstances are you to unshield in any way, however, unless a second attack should make that unavoidable. Clear?’

Clear, sir. Still no sign of the opposition.

‘Glad to hear it. I’ll take whatever I can get. Keep me informed—of everything.’

Yes, sir.

As the ring went dark again, Rain was mildly surprised to find himself more clear-headed than he’d felt all day. …The Archivist! Had even The Lady gone lunatic?

What wouldn’t he give to be a fly on the ceiling of that meeting? Not that the Archivist could be snuck up on—even by someone of The Lady’s power.

What could she be thinking?