Salaya's heels drum in a nonsensical rhythm against the stone flagons of the officers' barracks. She absentmindedly wonders who decided that the walls should be adorned with coloured murals of mountains and rivers. It seems out of place. Ariel on her right has fallen asleep, her head coming to rest on Salaya's shoulder. Eje on her left fidgets as though on the verge of jumping up and storming out. She's been on that verge for hours. Octave sits impassive, staring at a blotch on the ceiling, and Arrec crouches like a homunculus, waiting for his master to set him a task.

“Where's that courier then?” They all start. Arrec's long legs scramble up to meet a man in a blue tunic and shod boots.

“Yes, captain. I have news from Lakeview.” He hands Captain Esbeck his letter, sealed with black wax and a minor charm. The captain punches through the charm with a carefree finger and tears the letter open. After a minute of reading, he nods to Arrec.

“I'll deliver my response tomorrow.” He leaves them in the empty waiting room.

“We spent the entire day waiting for this.” groans Eje, covering her face in her hands. Ariel stirs and snorts on Salaya's shoulder, but doesn't wake. “Why in the name of every deity ever conceived does nobody just use lodestones?”

Salaya had awoken in the most dismal lodgings she'd ever seen, possibly that anyone had ever seen. The sun shining through the windows only served to throw slatted light onto the stained mattresses and frayed blankets. Cobwebs in the corners were not enough to cover the accumulated grime of who knows how many years. It took her several moments to remember that she was not abducted, but in the cheapest, least nosy hostel in Salkrit City. The bodies of Arrec and her teammates, sprawled around the room were asleep, not captured. Her mattress, which may have once been soft and yielding, was now thin as a blanket and offered little more comfort than the floor. Salaya looked down and hastened out of bed. It was little cleaner either.

After a breakfast of greasy fried bread from a vendor, they'd spent the rest of the day here at the officers' barracks. She'd watched their moods change from eager to hopeful to exasperated to scornful, and finally to resigned over the hours. “Now we come back tomorrow and wait all over again.” says Eje, shaking Ariel awake.

“How much longer?” Ariel whines.

“We're done, Ariel. Let's get out of here.”

Outside the oblong granite barracks, Arrec stretches his legs one at a time. “That's our job halfway done. If you don't mind now, I'd like a little time to myself. Nothing against the company of you ladies, mind, but one does on occasion yearn for something different, something to blow the hair off your head. And Salkrit, well, every corner is different in Salkrit.” He winks and strolls off.

“Well,” says Eje, looking around, “tomorrow we'll look for the only hairless courier in the city. What now?”

For the first time, Salaya is in Salkrit. She's not hustling down a dark street in search of secret accommodations, and she's not half running half eating her way for an important meeting in the barracks that turns into a day-long wait. The people walking down the street don't stop for anything, not lockdowns, not strangers, not horse-drawn carriages. The buildings are squat with windows like glaring eyes except when they're soaring with steeples reaching to the heavens. A nobleman walks by, velvet coat, curled shoes, an actual feather in his hat! Salaya resists the urge to run over to him for a closer look.

“I have business to attend to.”

“What sort of business?”

“That's private.”

“Come on, Octave, at least tell us where it is.”

Octave frowns. An eyebrow twitches. Eventually she gives in. “In the underground.”

Eje grins and grabs Octave by the hand. “I'm headed to the underground too. Why don't we go together?”

Salaya half expects Octave to knock Eje to the ground, but to everyone's surprise, she shrugs and says “Why not.” All that teasing and taunting must be paying off if Eje is making inroads.

“What about you two?” asks Eje. “You aren't interested, are you?”

“I want to explore the above-ground city.” says Salaya. “It's my first time. Ariel, do you want to come?”

“Teams of two now? Sounds fun. We'll meet back at the hostel tonight.”

“So where to first?” asks Ariel. She and Salaya bounce down the street, toward the source of the light, not the shadow of the mountain. A small park, about the size of the castle courtyard looms to their left. Mothers watch toddlers scream and chase each other around marble poles the height of trees. An old man sits in the shade of a creeping vine along a wall. Judging by its size, the vine must be at least a century. A cleaner sweeps a few specks of dirt off the ground into a pan and deposits in into a barrel strapped to his back. The city practically gleams with cleanliness and polished edges. Light reflects off every steeple and minaret, it flashes on the wheels of passing carriages, it sparkles white over the blue canal. Salaya has never seen buildings framed in metal, and metal street signs. How doesn't anything rust?

They pass a packed eatery, people lined up outside sniffing at the aroma of fresh bread and grilled beef. “I'm famished. Do you know of a good place to eat?”

“There's one. I thought you wanted to go to the library first?”

“Oh yes, I suppose.” Salaya tries to hide her disappointment. For possibly the first time in her life, she craves food and a warm drink over reading.

“Here's the light district. That's the Mage Guild right there.”

“Will they let us use their library?”

“We'll be members one day, so they'd better. Or I'll show them a thing or two.” Salaya can't help but laugh at Ariel's childlike determination.

If the city dances in the sun, the light district absorbs it all to power itself. Every building hums with activity as though impatient to accomplish something, anything of note. Great crystal orbs glow with light, not reflections like the metal sidings or gemstone water, but like tiny suns perched above them at every turn. An altar to Kjobayesh towers above the city; it's the giant with raised hands Salaya saw from across the river. Both Ariel and Salaya pause to give a nod of reverence at the granite feet of the star god.

“I almost forgot the city is locked down.” mentions Ariel as a unit of guards march by.

“Maybe they've already caught the robbers.”

“Thieves, not robbers, and we'd probably know if they were caught. We could at least hear the gates opening.”

“What's the difference between thieves and robbers anyway?” wonders Salaya.

“Thieves steal and robbers rob.”

“But the guard said that the palace had been robbed by thieves.”

Ariel considers this new piece of information. “Well, maybe thieves are sneakier about it than robbers?”

“I just think there should be a word like thieved so we could say The palace has been thieved! Then there'd be no misunderstandings.”

“I think that already is a word, Salaya. As in The silver crown was thieved while princess Sabalar prayed by the fence; and has never been recovered three hundred years hence.”

“Now that you mention it, I've read that passage too. I've never heard the word used anywhere else though.”

They stop in front of the Mage Guild hall. Its imposing frame is decked entirely in ivy, the red roots rising from the bottom and sprouting into green leaves. Another statue, a simple woman in a chiselled stone cloak, stands dedicated to Ererebesh. Salaya and Ariel offer a small prayer for wisdom. “Here it is.” Salaya's hand tingles with anticipation as she places it on the door. Figures of sprites and little devils line the edges. Runes carved into the stone above warn of calamity to any who should enter with an impure heart. If only Trofeia could see her now. Salaya pushes the door and it swings open noiselessly.

The inside of the hall is less impressive. Ariel and Salaya spend several minutes arguing with a boy younger than them at the front desk, but they finally get a team access slip for the lodestone. “Now for the library.” says Ariel, and they both perk up. Another oak door swings open, and they are again challenged by an attendant.

“Membership please.”

“Er.” Ariel looks over at Salaya who puts on her best smile.

“We're not members, but we're applying soon. You can let us in, right? It's for important research.”

“Non members must pay a fee of four brasses and five acorns.” Ariel grumbles but refrains from showing the boy a thing or two. They both end up dipping into their mission allowances for the money.

“Thank you. Remember to speak quietly in the library.”

“So where to now?” Ariel whispers. As they walk around, Salaya's head begins to swim, as though mesmerized. Room after room of books await them with labels ranging from Withering Curses to Anointments to History of Dairy Farming. Wheeled ladders slide along shelves rising scores of paces above them toward the light streaming in from the ceiling. And in every room, the odour of books permeates: old leathery parchment, new clean paper, binding string, glue melted from horse hooves. As they search, the looks they're getting start to make Salaya nervous. Then she realises that she and Ariel are the two youngest people by a long stretch. Every person she sees eyeing the shelves or reading at a table has at least twenty years on either of them. Most have grey to white hair spilling onto their bright guild robes. Canes are common, as are great amulets set with convex lenses to make words appear larger.

“Let's stick to the main room.” whispers Salaya back. She approaches the life magic section. “You should be at home here.” It's empty except for a woman in green robes sitting at a table by several rows of shelves under the botanical subsection. She looks up briefly as they approach and Ariel steps forward.

“Is that you, Ogostinia?” asks Ariel. The woman looks up again. “Sorry.” says Ariel, speaking softer. “You remember me right? You gave me that exam at Lakeview.”

Salaya just makes out the title Fundamental Botanical before the woman puts it down and gives Ariel a slow stern look. Ariel cowers, and Salaya is sure they're about to be thrown out. Instead the woman nods. “Vaguely. What was your name again?”

“Ariel. And this is my friend Salaya.”

“Ogostinia.” Ogostinia leans back in her cushioned chair. “You were the one who could hear me. I was impressed.” She glares as though already regretting the complement. “Well, what are you doing here? Libraries are for old people with nothing better to do than read, not youngsters. Or are you two contrarians?”

“We're, um, we're looking for something. Do you know anything about gardening?”

“Gardening.” Ariel wilts under Ogostinia's gaze and turns to Salaya for help.

“You see, miss, we found, er we want to know about gardening.”

“First, don't refer to me as 'miss'. I'm old enough to be your mother. Possibly grandmother. Call me Ogostinia.” She looks Salaya up and down like a buyer evaluating a horse. “What's so interesting about gardening to you?” Salaya and Ariel exchange worried looks. Neither had anticipated this, and neither is sure how much they can tell her.

“We'll look around and come back to you if we need help.”

“If you say so.” Ogostinia returns to her reading.

Before Ariel can protest, Salaya drags her to a secluded corner. “Who was that?”

“She's a life mage, Salaya. She tested me in Lakeview – it's a long story. Look, I think we should ask her. She specialises in botanical magic.” Even for a library, their whispers are quiet.

“Can we trust her though?”

“I don't see why not. We were going to ask someone, weren't we?”

“Yes, but what if, you know.”

“What if what?”

“What if she sees something hidden in there. Whatever it was that Tal was looking for?”

Ariel looks back at Ogostinia's grey head immersed in her book. “I trust her.” she says after a long pause. “We had a connection back at the castle.” She marches back over. “Excuse me, Ogostinia, do you think you could look at this? We found it at Lakeview.” Ariel takes the gardening tome from a deep pocket in her coat and hands it to Ogostinia.

“My own plans weren't worth much, I suppose.” Salaya can't tell if Ogostinia is complaining or not, but she takes the tome and leafs through it. “Who wrote it?”

“It's from a village.”

“Seems like a gardening manual.” Ogostinia flips through each page, eyes scanning with a speed beyond anything Salaya could manage. “Where's this for? A manual of this detail has got to be for a specific environment, and every environment has a different temperament when it comes to magic.” She taps her finger on a paragraph. “Judging by the emphasis on fertilisation, this isn't for beginners.”

“I didn't know gardening was so complicated.”

“Anything is as complicated as you choose to make it.” Ogostinia tilts the book to better read a comment scrawled in the margin.

“Well, the village was north of Lakeview.”

“Near the desolation?”

Salaya's stomach clenches. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess. Some of these spells border on terraformation. There are always a few extremists out there who think they can rework the desolation into something nicer. They always make fools of themselves in the end.”

“Terraformation? I didn't see that.” Ariel leans in for a closer look. “That's just a spell for improved irrigation.”

“Don't think of things in the short term.” says Ogostinia with a dismissive wave. “It's unfortunate that your schools obsess over immediate results. They think anything that doesn't result in a large explosion or a sparkly conjured jackhammer or whatnot isn't worth considering.” She sighs as though the foolishness of schools has brought her no shortage of irritation. “Did you even learn magic that had an effect not noticeable within five minutes?” She looks over Salaya and Ariel's blank faces. “I suppose it isn't your fault. The palace determines school curricula, and I'd best say no more on the subject. This spell works over years. It begins as improved irrigation, but it shifts the soil composition as well. Over the years, life will thrive beneath the ground. Then the meanest plants will begin to sprout. In fifty years, the land will be unrecognisable. Or at least that's the theory.”

“So.” Ariel looks at the book again. “They wanted to grow the desolation?”

“Why don't you ask them?”

“They were killed by orcs.”

“Ah. Shame that.” Ogostinia continues flipping through the book. She skims a few pages. She flips to the end where there are still blank pages.

“Is there anything, you know, special about it?”

“Well, a few of these spells are oddities even in the botanical community, and we're oddities in and of ourselves. Some of them are so old they haven't seen use in decades, and others seem to have been created for this book only. Or at least I've never seen them until now. If you want to work the book and try to knock a green hole in the desolation, you're going to need some powerfully rare reagents.”

“Just to make the spells work? I've never heard of that.”

“No spell needs a reagent to work. But for this scale...” Ogostinia's voice trails off as she reexamines a page. “This is more interesting than I gave it credit for initially.” she admits. “I don't think it'll work, but it's at least more imaginative than what these idealists usually dream up.”

“What sort of reagents would you need?”

“Dunno. Whatever you can get that's potent would be a start. Celestial tears are a good bet if they turn out to be real. Preserved life is also a good idea with terraforming magic.” Ogostinia rips a piece of paper off an unused page of the book. “All right, you've intrigued me.” She jots down a code: FourthOgostiniaLifeBotanical. “You can use this to keep me appraised through the guild lodestone, and I'll give you advice if I have any. No doubt this'll end with me making a fool of myself, but it wouldn't be the first time. I approve of the curiosity too. It's what sets life mages apart from the others.”

“Do you –” Salaya hesitates and Ariel gives her a meaningful look. It's worth a shot though. “Do you know why someone would want this book?”

“To read it, I presume.”

“No, I mean someone powerful who's interested in this book. Could it be dangerous?”

“All magic is dangerous, Salaya.” Ogostinia gives her a skewering look and Salaya tries not to fidget. Then she leans in and beckons them to do the same. “There's always money to be made from this sort of venture. Or power to be had. The ambitions of people are more dangerous than any magic you can imagine, which is why I have no ambitions of my own. Only curiosity. That's how we strive to understand the world, and don't you forget it.”

“That was an experience.” says Ariel looking back at the Mage Guild.

“I hope she's safe.” says Salaya. “After everything we've gone through to keep this book secret, I'd hate for her to just go and mention to Tal that we've got it.”

“No, I trust Ogostinia. If she wanted to betray us, she wouldn't have told us so much.”

“Is that why you trust her, Ariel? Because she was talkative and you look up to her?”

“No, it's because she's a trustworthy person. Didn't you read that from her?”

“Is that some sort of spell?”

“Don't be silly. Just look at what sort of a person she is. She's strict but open. Not like Tal: she was too guarded.”

“Huh. Where do you want to go for food? If I don't eat something, I may pass out on the street.”

“Don't do that. Here, I know a good place.” They walk along, beyond the light district, until Salaya marvels that her legs haven't given out yet. Ariel is leading as though intimately familiar with the city, its intersections, its twists and turns, its shortcuts through alleys. There are more units of guards tramping about, swords at their sides, but the people walk past them without slowing. “It's funny. I've never been here alone, but it's all coming naturally. This is it.” Ariel waits at the top of a small hill while Salaya groans and pulls herself up.

“What a view.” The city stands for leagues around them, the palace, the parks, the gleaming buildings. In the distance, she can see Kjobayesh, still reaching for his home in the heavens. “Now about that food.” Salaya looks around and sees Ariel approaching a tavern. A polished sign over the front door reads Cap and Crown. Inside, servers carry trays of drinks and victuals to full tables. At the bar, men in feathered hats converse over glasses of crimson wine, while a table in the corner houses a group of rowdy workers, sleeves still dirty, carousing over mugs of ale. Salaya follows Ariel up a flight of knotted wooden stairs to the second level, a balcony, where they find an empty table under an immense marble arch that has somehow found its way here.

Ariel flags down a server. “Can you get me a perch pie and a glass of tangerine juice?”

“Sure thing, miss. Anything in the juice?”

Ariel gives Salaya mischievous smile. “Water it down with some whisky.”

The server affirms this and turns to Salaya who struggles to think of something. “Do you have spaffelit?” she asks.

“Anything to drink?”

“Goat's milk, please.” The server nods and is off.

“You've gotten a lot more confident today.” notes Salaya as Ariel gazes off the balcony down at the guests below.

“Oh? I suppose it's familiarity. I haven't been to Salkrit in years, and now that I'm back, it's like I was here yesterday.”

“What do you make of what Ogostinia said, anyway?”

“Not much. Maybe Octave'll have something to say, but this doesn't seem terribly interesting yet. How many children have tried planting something in the desolation? And how many adults, for that matter? Magic, no magic, it doesn't make a difference. I doubt this was meant to be the one successful endeavour.”

The server returns with their orders. “Thank you.” says Salaya as he drops off her spaffelit. They pay a few brasses each for their meal – less than what it cost to enter the library. Worth the coins too. It might just be that she hasn't eaten in over eight hours, but the stew is richer and creamier than any she's tasted.

“The food here is always great.” says Ariel, digging into her pie. “So.” she says after several uninterrupted minutes of chewing. “Forget the gardening business. What do you think of that?”

Salaya follows her gaze down to an ogre squeezing his bulk through the front doors. “I wonder what he'll order.”

“They're going to need a bucket for him. Just watch.” Sure enough, as a barstool disappears beneath the ogre's backside, a barman is already filling a bucket with ale from a spigot. The ogre gives a bellowing laugh of approval that Salaya can feel from upstairs and doffs a hat resembling a shield.

“They really serve ogres here?”

“They'll serve anyone here. Hence the name. It's a great place to watch people.”

“How do you mean?”

“Look at him. What do you think he does?”

“In the army, of course. Probably a fortbuster.”

Ariel fishes a bone out of her mouth and drops it on the wooden table. “Naw, look at his cuffs. They're neatly folded and not even dirty. Look at the expensive hemming on his shirt. He's a businessman. Well, businessogre.”

Salaya can't deny this. “The man he's talking to is clearly from the army though.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Look at the blade at his side.” Salaya is eager to have something to contribute. “It's a standard-issue shortsword. Not a more expensive arming sword like what the guards wear, just the sort of thing they give to soldiers.”

“Nice catch.” says Ariel, impressed. Salaya beams. A compliment from Ariel is an uncommon achievement. “You know about swords?”

“I'm fond of them, though not good at using one. What about those two over there in the corner?” A couple figures in cloaks talking, heads together, drinks untouched.

“Shady. Stop staring at them; they might not be safe.”

“I wonder if they're connected to the palace being thieved.”

“Whoever did that won't be in a tavern. It might be good cover, but not in this one. The guards come here every so often to cause a fuss. Alright, one more. Look at those ladies. Guess what they do.”

Salaya looks them over. One is taller, in a black satin dress and a transparent veil. The other, stockier, wears casual leggings and a dark blue tunic. “Are they friends? They don't look like they're from the same social stratum.” Both are drinking mugs of ale as they survey the room. The taller of the two catches Salaya staring and winks.

“Oo, you got her attention, Salaya. What next?”

“Woops.” Salaya looks away hastily, returning her attention to the remains of her dinner. Over her cup of milk, she peers down and nearly chokes. Both the women are looking up at her.

“You have a great deal to learn about watching without being seen.” laughs Ariel. “Now they think you're interested.”

“Interested how? Who are they?”

“Haven't you guessed yet?” Ariel looks down and gives the women an apologetic shrug and shake of her head. “Now they must think we're a couple.”

“A couple?!” Salaya really does choke this time. Ariel slaps her on the back as she coughs. “You'd better not mean what I think you mean, Ariel.” Salaya gasps when she's recovered.

Ariel laughs harder. Salaya wants to appreciate that Ariel's former shyness has entirely slipped away, but can't given the circumstances. “Like I said, this tavern is open to everyone.”

“Even...?”

“Yep.”

“And that would make those two...?”

“You really let them down.” The two women have gone back to talking and scanning the ground floor. “Their clients must be almost all men, and you got their hopes up for something different.”

Salaya sinks as far into her seat as she can, but can't seem to vanish. “Don't joke about that, Ariel.” she hisses in case someone from another table can hear them. “Have you ever? You know?”

“No.” chuckles Ariel, dropping another bone on the table. “But if you want to, this is one of the few places in the city where it's safe.”

“I don't. And they just sit around and look for. Clients?”

Ariel finishes off her juice with a flourish. “It doesn't go the way you'd think. The better dressed ones usually go for the commoners and workers, while the simpler ones are higher up on the hierarchy. They're after the rich purses. I guess going cross-class is exciting for people.”

“I can't believe you're so casual about this.” Salaya casts about, every table a potential threat. Was that man nearby looking at them strange? What does he think? What about their server? She sniffs the dregs of her goat's milk wondering what she's even smelling for.

“Head down.” says Ariel suddenly. “Ah, it's trouble. I didn't think they'd be here so early in the night.”

A unit of four guards has filed into the tavern. The hum of chatter dies in an instant as all eyes in the tavern turn to meet them. Even the ogre cranes what little neck he has around to watch.

The leader of the unit approaches the front of the bar. “Everything all right here?” The two women have disappeared, and the shady figures are frozen in place.

“Everything's fine.” says a barman. “Come on back.” The soldier follows him to a backroom.

“What's going on?” whispers Salaya. Soon enough, the two reemerge.

“Let's go.” says the leader to the others. He gives his pocket a little shake, and it jingles.

“Got yer payoff, I see.” snickers a man sitting by the bar. Without breaking step, a soldier leans over and punches him in the face with a gloved hand. Salaya tenses.

“Anyone else have something funny to say?” Nobody does. “What about you, big fellow?” The ogre stares disinterestedly at his bucket. Salaya gives Ariel a meaningful look, but Ariel's gaze is fixed on the table. She tries to stand, but Ariel grabs her by the arm and pulls her back down.

The guards file out, and the tavern bursts back into life. Curses flow, mugs and cups are slammed down. Patrons pull the man off the ground and help staunch the blood oozing from his nose. “What was that, Ariel?” demands Salaya.

“Like I said, the guards come and cause a bit of a fuss every now and then. It's best not to antagonize them.”

“And did they just walk out with a bribe? Why didn't we stop it, Ariel? We could have beaten them. Or we could at least report them to their superiors.”

Ariel gives a tired sigh and pokes her fork at the empty plate in front of her. “And get more guards here? An excuse to raid the place properly while we run away and hide? Look around you. The same thought occurred to everyone here, and nobody did anything. This isn't the time for your ethics, Salaya. This isn't a controlled environment where good boys and girls can flourish. This is morality, what you with your ethics in the real world. And what you do is you keep your head down unless you're someone important, and that's not us.”

Salaya looks around the tavern again, the charm having somewhat worn off. The two women are back, but look less enthusiastic about it. “But if the establishment was doing something wrong, why not make arrests? And why hit that man who did nothing wrong?”

“Indeed.”

Salaya sighs. “I wanted to visit the palace, but I don't think that's a good idea anymore.”

“We can still walk by it, if you like. And we can visit the royal park tomorrow.”

Salaya looks into her cup and wishes she had something more potent.