The sturdy staircase led up to a platform overlooking the stable yard. At the top, someone had rolled up the slatted blinds around the sides to open the space to the air, and cheerful lanterns hung at each corner, illuminating the space and part of the courtyard outside. Anders Mackrowe sat at the desk, his loose tunic and faded brown hair blending into the wood behind him. His posture exhibited a forced calm, but he was not surrounded by stacks of files as usual. Instead, a full, precious bottle of water was in front of him – Challis licked her dry lips – as well as an equally out-of-place man.

"I can't send fifty of my best handlers out on assignment, just like that," Mackrowe snapped his fingers, his kind face overrun by a frown. His eyes flicked over to Challis for a moment when she stepped in. "They're patrolmen and emissaries, not your personal lackeys."

An FHF agent was leaning forward on the desk, his broad form almost blocking the manager from view. His every movement was driven by a fire that coincided with what Challis had seen of him earlier, and when he spoke, Drunnel's very words seemed to seize the air around him. The older man across from him, in his sixties, stuck to a composure unbroken by even a Haske's passion.

"This is a chance we'll never see again," Drunnel challenged. "Do you have any idea how much money is in maccoton research? This team would almost ensure success, especially if they're already well-trained." He pounded a fist down onto the table. "We can't do this without them, if you'd only –"

"It would deplete the regular patrols, and unhitch every working agreement from here to Malthussa." Mackrowe lifted his face deliberately toward Challis with a brief, amicable smile, and he sat up straighter in his chair. "If you'll excuse me," he said stiffly to the other, then, "How can I help you?"

Challis stood well away from Drunnel, who on his own seemed to fill the entire platform. He had turned a displeased look on her but otherwise didn't move from his domineering stance over the manager.

"I'm… here with him, actually, sir." She gestured vaguely towards Drunnel. "Hoping to register for the training period before the FHF expedition. Me and Rasalas."

"You are," Mackrowe said, his tone a blend of surprise and exasperation. "That's a tall order. But as it turns out, I'm afraid you won't get the chance at all."

"Plans have changed," Drunnel cut in, gazing at a paper in front of him that looked like a map or chart. His voice rose in volume as he continued. "The herd is moving into the mountains. I can't imagine why they would leave the thicket plains. We need to go, as soon as possible. I'm not losing this opportunity to another organization like Brumelo or Timber Tech."

The tone flattened Mackrowe into silence. Challis stood without moving, her stance relaxed though her breath came quick and steady. She had inadvertently slid into a defensive state out of habit. Her eyes looked at nothing, her mind opening to her other senses of hearing, smell, touch. She read the tension in the air, and let it slide over her and focus everything from her head to her feet into a ready position. At this point, Rasalas would react to the situation for both of them, usually angry, and send all his energy out towards whatever it was that threatened them. Forge's crop would come next, or someone would get a fist in the mouth, or in a rare moment of foresight Rasalas would grab her arm and get them out of there.

But Drunnel merely looked over his shoulder in her direction. "Meaning," he said in a much quieter voice, "no two months to waste. Sorry. We can't train you."

Challis glanced aside instinctively for Rasalas, but he wasn't there. Maybe Mackrowe saw her disappointment, because he came slowly around to the front of the desk and leaned on it. He planted the base of his crosshatch trousers just close enough to Drunnel that the agent had to step back or have his hand squashed.

"I know that look," Mackrowe said. "Do you really want into this, Challis?"

She paced over to the side of the platform and looked down at vague shapes moving in the dark outside the lamplight. She had heard the smile in the manager's voice and wanted to talk to him, but not with Drunnel there.

"It's not a secret, sir," she said at last. Then she went silent as if to draw it out, but in reality, she was mesmerized by the ghost spots of light flashing all over her vision. Her brother's eyes were flying everywhere, and Challis could almost feel the rush of movement. What was he doing?

"I've already had eleven signups," Mackrowe continued. "Tofflar and Hammond jumped in here first thing yesterday. But," he turned back to Drunnel, "at this short of a notice, you'll need to make pact arrangements with each of them and anyone else. That should give them a week. And no more than thirty handlers."

Drunnel started to object, but the other held up a hand. "Agent Haske, the Polescos pterosaur services have no business obligations with the FHF outside the city limits. You brought this to me, and those are my terms concerning my employees."

Challis thought of Thax leaving with the expedition, for who knew how long. It wasn't a surprise to her, but if she and Rasalas were taking off for good, Thax's friendship, shallow as it was, was just one example of what they would have to leave behind. But perhaps not right away… and how much money was involved with maccoton research? The expedition was still a good cover, whether it came sooner or later. Only one week. She couldn't let something like that stop her.

One of the lantern flashes from Rasalas seemed to spark right up into her brain and stay there.

"Agent Haske," she said suddenly. She turned, putting as much confidence into her voice as she could. Drunnel was still scowling, but he raised his brows slightly when he saw the look on her face. "You said horses. Can you use two more?"