10

Thirdday, 22 Greening, 971

Larine looked up, her throat catching, as the door of the dining hall swung open and everyone fell silent. But it was Dabiel, not Idan. Every eye in the room fixed on her as she gave a small shake of her head. With a collective exhale, they turned back to their games or conversation or reading. By the fire, Semira resumed softly strumming her lute.

Dabiel made her way to the round table where Larine and several of their friends were playing cards, Buttons lumbering at her heels. She sat down and he flopped at her feet. “Deal me in next hand.”

As play resumed, Larine asked quietly, “Will it be long?”

“Less than an hour, I think. Idan sent Tasha and me away so they could be alone at the end.” Dabiel reached for Buttons’s head and stroked it compulsively.

Larine swallowed and glanced at the rafters, where Flutter was drowsing in his favorite spot. Her familiar was nearly as old for a falcon as Oak was for a wolf. The Mother’s power kept his muscles and joints supple enough to fly, but these days he spent most of the time they weren’t working asleep. It wouldn’t be long before she faced the same ordeal Master Idan was going through now.

“Has he said what he’s going to do?”

“Not to me. He’s only seventy-five. He might choose to bond again.”

“I doubt it. Not since Master Tasha hasn’t.” Honk had died more than a year before, and Larine’s former master had announced her retirement from bonded service not long after. She’d remained with her husband in the Hall, devoting her time to the organizational tasks traditionally done by unbonded wizards so those with familiars could focus on using the Mother’s power.

Dabiel picked up a spare deck of cards and began shuffling them. “He could still name someone else. Master Kondel would leave Thedan if he asked.”

Larine snorted. “Oh, come on. Everyone knows it’s going to be you. Either now, or in a few years if Master Idan chooses to bond again. We’ve always known.”

Dabiel kept shuffling the cards, over and over without stopping. “I’m not ready. Most Guildmasters aren’t named until they’re in their fifties. If he does plan to name me, he’ll probably accept a new familiar and wait to retire for another dozen years.”

Larine wanted to say something reassuring, but it was her turn to play. She chose a card and discarded another. The player next to her exclaimed in pleasure, picked up her discard, and set down all his cards. Everyone else grumbled and counted up the points they’d lost. By the time Larine could focus on Dabiel again, her friend had overcome her agitation, or at least hidden it.

Dabiel glanced around. “Where’s Ozor?”

“I put him to bed. He was being too loud and rambunctious. He wouldn’t quiet down even after I explained several times why people need to be solemn right now.” Larine grimaced. “I might have yelled a little.”

Dabiel patted her hand. “Don’t worry. All parents yell now and then, especially ones with children as difficult as Ozor. You can apologize tomorrow if you feel like you crossed the line.”

“I’m afraid I did.” Larine rubbed her temples. “He’s just so stubborn, and he refuses to listen to reason, and I was already on edge because of Master Idan and Oak. I thought by this age he’d be starting to mature, at least. It’s less than two years until he has to choose an apprenticeship. I’ll be humiliated if he defies his master the way he defies me.” She picked up her new hand of cards and tried to study them, but her eyes blurred with unshed tears.

Dabiel made a sympathetic noise. “Maybe Shiar should take him on another voyage. He seemed to enjoy the last one, and you could certainly use the break.”

“I don’t know if he will. Ozor obeys his father better than me, but he still breaks the rules whenever he feels like it. It’s like he thinks they don’t apply to him. Shiar won’t tolerate that on his ship, and I don’t blame him. There’s too much that’s dangerous.” She sorted her cards with quick motions, not caring if she made a mistake. “Last time Shiar had to lock him in his cabin to keep him from sneaking out at night to climb the rigging.”

Her friend sucked in her breath. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

Larine shook her head. “I haven’t wanted anyone to know.” Confessing her troubles felt good, but she hated burdening Dabiel with her problems when she had so many more important things demanding her attention. It wasn’t as if her friend could do anything to help. “But you’re right. When Shiar gets back I’ll talk him into taking Ozor out with him again. He needs to be with his father, even if that makes life difficult for Shiar.” The Mother knew Larine had dealt with her share of the difficulties Ozor caused.

Dabiel nodded and turned back to her cards. She took her turn, then Larine took hers. After play moved on, Dabiel said, “Do you think he might want to apprentice to the Sailors’ Guild? Maybe with Shiar as his master?”

“Possibly. Shiar says he picked up skills quickly when he wanted to. But I think it would be better if he apprentices outside the family. He needs a strong, patient master. One he can respect, who won’t put up with his nonsense, but who won’t constantly lose his temper, either. That leaves out Shiar.” She grimaced, then sighed. “And there’s certainly no chance the Mother will name him to the Wizards’ Guild.”

Larine half hoped her friend would contradict her, but Dabiel nodded thoughtfully and studied her cards. It must be as obvious to everyone else as it was to Larine that her son lacked the deep empathy and compassion a wizard needed. She couldn’t imagine him agreeing to subordinate his will beneath a familiar’s. If he did, his contempt for rules would surely lead him to violate the Law and have his bond broken within a year. The Mother was far too perceptive to make such a mistake.

Larine played again. Her hand was poor, but maybe she could do something with it if the round went long enough. “He might make a good hunter. I doubt my mother would want to take him, but she probably knows someone who would. Or perhaps a butcher or herder or one of the more specialized branches of the Laborers’ Guild. Something physical and demanding and—”

Her voice echoed in the sudden silence. Larine stiffened and followed Dabiel’s gaze to the door.

Master Idan shouldered the door open and came through, Oak’s shaggy gray body limp in his arms. He trudged toward the front of the room, his head bowed.

Dabiel jumped to her feet. Larine followed her example. All through the room, wizards rose in a show of silent respect. Master Idan gave a small nod of acknowledgement as he passed between the tables. By the time he reached the hearth, two apprentices had already moved the waiting cot into place. Master Tasha spread it with a clean white cloth, and Master Idan eased his familiar’s still form onto it. He stroked the wolf’s head for a moment, then sighed and rose to face the guild. At his gesture, they sank back into their seats.

“Oak has returned to the Mother, peacefully and without pain, at the end of a long and meaningful life. I was deeply honored to serve at his side for many years. I grieve for what I’ve lost, but I rejoice for what we shared, and for the joy he now knows in the Mother’s presence. Those of us who’ve stood before her and spoken with her understand what that means. This life she’s given us is a precious gift. The power she grants wizards that allows us to preserve that life for her children is an equally precious gift. But in our eagerness to heal, we must never forget that death, when it comes in her time and according to her design, is not an evil to be feared or fought. It’s the natural and beautiful end of one story and the beginning of another.”

He paused, looking around the room with grave eyes. After a moment his lips curved in a small smile. “In much the same fashion, the end of one Guildmaster’s story is the beginning of another’s. I hereby announce my retirement from bonded service and from the position of Guildmaster of the Wizards’ Guild. The wizard I’ve chosen to follow me is young, but she’s better prepared to lead the guild than any wizard twice her age. She’s learned everything I have to teach her about the Mother’s power, the Law, and leadership, and has taught me things I never knew on all those subjects. She brings fierce passion, hard work, and keen intelligence to everything she does. She’s deeply devoted to the Mother and to serving her children. I’m confident the Wizards’ Guild and all Tevenar will prosper under her guidance. I ask the masters of the guild to confirm her nomination with your vote. My friends, I’m proud to nominate Master Dabiel Dyerkin Wizard as my successor.” He held his hand out with a broad smile. The gathered wizards erupted into cheers and applause.

Dabiel didn’t move. Larine kicked her chair. “Go on,” she hissed. When Dabiel remained frozen, Larine grabbed her knee under cover of the table and shook it hard. “Everyone’s waiting.”

Buttons heaved himself to his feet and prodded Dabiel with his snout. Larine was wondering if she’d have to slap her friend when she swallowed hard and rose. She put a shaking hand on Buttons and walked beside him to join Master Idan at the hearth. To Larine’s critical eye she still looked dazed, but she managed to smile and nod and accept the nomination with only a slight tremor in her voice. She kept tight hold of Buttons, and he stayed pressed to her side, but nobody thought there was anything strange about that.

Larine held back as wizards surged forward to congratulate Dabiel. She’d wait until the crowd thinned. At such a late hour, people wouldn’t linger long, but would express their support briefly and disperse to their beds.

She looked around, catching eyes and exchanging nods and smiles. Dabiel’s closest friends had been planning for weeks to surprise her in her room with a private celebration. It wouldn’t be appropriate to become too festive down here, with Oak’s body reminding them that this was a sad occasion as well as a happy one, but upstairs they could relax and give Dabiel the party she deserved.

Hanion drifted by her table. He kept his gaze focused on the gathering by the hearth while he spoke to Larine in an undertone. “Got the wine?”

“In my room.” Larine kept her voice to the same soft mutter. “What about the cake?”

“I ordered it this morning, as soon as it became clear this would be the day. The baker delivered it right before the evening meal.”

“Perfect. The decorations?”

He nodded at the door, where a trio of wizards were slipping out, whispering to each other, occasional muffled laughter breaking out. “Underway.”

Larine grinned. Dabiel had no idea what was going to happen. “Does Semira have her song ready?”

Hanion’s smile faded. “She just told me she wasn’t able to come up with anything she was satisfied with.”

“Oh.” Larine had actually been looking forward to Semira’s composition. Her wicked sense of humor and clever way with words made her satirical ditties immensely popular. “That’s too bad.”

Hanion’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “She said that since it’s so late, she’s going to skip the party and go to bed. She tried to persuade me to come, too, but I can’t miss Dabiel’s big moment. My friend doesn’t get named Guildmaster every day.” His tone stayed light, but Larine could hear the bitterness under the humor. “Frankly, I think Semira couldn’t stand the idea of someone else being the center of attention.”

Larine twisted to look at him. She’d never heard Hanion say anything remotely critical about his wife before. Surely it was too much to hope that he was finally growing disillusioned with her. Larine would never wish their marriage ill if it was a good one, but it wasn’t, and she hated seeing Hanion miserable. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head, still staring forward. “A younger singer was given the big solo in the summer concert. Semira insists it was based on guild politics, not merit. She made a big fuss about it. When the Singer guildmaster confirmed the decision, I made the mistake of saying I thought he was right. I’ve heard the boy; he’s good. Semira wasn’t happy.” The wry twist of his lips told Larine how much of an understatement that was.

“I’m sorry.”

He pulled out a chair and sat down. “We fought. She said some hurtful things. I… said some things I’ve been holding back for a long time. She stormed out. I don’t know where she went. Three days later she came back, acting as if nothing had happened. That was a few weeks ago. Since then… my heart’s just not in it anymore. I’m pretty sure hers hasn’t been for years.”

Larine’s throat ached. She longed to reach for his hands and fold them in hers. She longed to do a lot more than that, if truth be told. But she wasn’t going to contribute to the failure of Hanion’s marriage. That wouldn’t be fair to either of them. “I’m probably not the person you should be talking to about this.”

He shot her a glance she couldn’t read. “You’re my friend.”

“Always. But maybe a male friend would be a better confidant. You don’t want Semira to get the wrong idea.”

He looked away. Under his breath, he muttered, “Or the right one.”

Larine blinked and swallowed. Surely she couldn’t have heard correctly. “What?”

“Nothing.” He jumped up. “Look, Dabiel’s almost free of the mob. We’d better say our congratulations, then get the wine and cake to her room quickly if we don’t want her to suspect.” He strode toward the dwindling crowd. Thunder looked up from where he was browsing from a net of hay on the wall and went to join him.

Larine stared after him. He couldn’t have meant what his cryptic comment seemed to imply.

After a few minutes she shook herself hard. Even if he did, it didn’t matter. He was married, and until and unless his marriage fell apart on its own, she would stay far away.

But maybe, someday, if he and Semira broke their bond… No one could fault either of them if… After an appropriate amount of time had passed, of course, a year or so, perhaps…

Larine dragged her thoughts away from that track, called Flutter, and went to congratulate Dabiel.

The party began with suitable decorum, but the mood lightened as it stretched past the point where late night became early morning. They all ate too many sweets, drank too much wine and ale, sang too many bawdy songs, and laughed until their sides hurt. Larine avoided Hanion, and he avoided her. There were enough people crowded into Dabiel’s room it wasn’t obvious.

Dabiel laughed and sang with them, but there was a strange reserve about her in the midst of the merrymaking. She couldn’t be worried about the meeting of the masters of the guild that would take place in a month or so, after the masters from Thedan, Jevtaran, and Korisan traveled to Elathir. It was unthinkable they’d do anything but vote to confirm Master Idan’s nomination. Maybe she was thinking about next spring, when she’d withdraw into fasting for three days until the Mother appeared to name the new apprentices. Larine was sure she’d treasure the opportunity to speak with the Mother again. Most wizards only saw her on rare occasions, when they bonded with a new familiar. Only the Guildmaster had the privilege of meeting with her every year.

Finally, closer to dawn than midnight, the party began to break up. Larine hugged Dabiel, told her she’d be the best Guildmaster Tevenar had ever had, and stumbled down the stairs to her suite on the second floor. She thought about waking Flutter and having him speed her back to soberness, but he was asleep on her shoulder and she hated to disturb him. She hadn’t drunk that much, really. It was mostly sleepiness that was making the floor unstable beneath her feet.

She entered as quietly as she could and transferred Flutter onto his perch. The falcon shifted his weight but didn’t rouse. A peek into Ozor’s room showed him sleeping, his covers pulled up until all that was visible was the top of his head. She smiled at the shock of thick brown hair poking from under the blanket. It was a good thing they’d moved to one of the family suites a few years ago, when Ozor started to want more privacy than a single room afforded. If they’d still been in her old room a few doors down from Dabiel’s, the noise would surely have woken him.

He must be deeply asleep, he was so still. Anxiety leftover from his babyhood twinged in her heart. She dismissed it sternly. Infants occasionally died in their sleep, for no reason the Mother’s power could discover, but eleven-year-old boys never did.

She used the trick she’d developed then, watching and listening closely for the slightest movement. A single faint sigh of breath or a tiny twitch of one finger proved he was fine and her worries were baseless. She’d never had to wait more than a few seconds for the evidence to appear. It was much better than the early days when she’d kept waking him by having Flutter send the warm tingle of the Mother’s power to sense his life.

He really was very quiet tonight. The covers must be muffling the rasp of his breath. No matter how Larine strained her ears, she heard only the soft sounds of the night coming through the open window—whispering wind, a bird’s cry, humming insects, soft voices speaking a few rooms away. And as much as she looked, the dim moonlight revealed not even the smallest rise or fall of the blanket over his chest.

If Flutter were younger, she would have woken the falcon and asked for his help. Instead, silently berating herself for her foolish fears, she slipped through the door, crept silently to the bedside, and laid her hand on Ozor’s shoulder.

For a panicked instant she couldn’t move. She wasn’t sure what she felt under her hand, but it wasn’t warm, living flesh. Volition came rushing back, and she seized the covers and threw them aside.

The length of pillows and rolled blankets was cleverly fashioned to mimic Ozor’s body. The beaver-fur hat Larine’s mother had sent him for a Harvest present was just the color and texture of his own hair. A remote, rational corner of Larine’s mind recognized that the decoy was much better done than she’d managed the one time she’d tried a similar trick.

The rest of her was consumed with blind, shrieking panic. Her child was gone. He could be in trouble, in danger, dead. She’d tear the city apart until she found him. No wonder her mother had screamed at her and shook her before crushing her to her heart and sobbing when she discovered the young Larine wandering the starlit beach, marveling at the luminescent waves.

At least she had a resource her mother hadn’t. Flutter!

He jerked awake, his drowsy mind sharpening as she flooded it with terror. What’s wrong?

Ozor’s run off. You have to help me find him.

As the falcon flew to her shoulder and pressed against her neck, Larine forced herself to take deep breaths. A window would make it easy to trace Ozor, no matter where he’d gone. They’d start at the moment he made his escape and follow him to wherever he was now. In a quarter of an hour, half at most, they’d find him, and she could give him the blistering reprimand he deserved.

She thrust out her hand and Flutter popped open a glowing golden sphere. The center cleared to reveal the room many hours before, as Larine tucked Ozor into bed and kissed him good-night. The door had scarcely closed behind her when he scrambled out from under the covers, threw his clothes back on, and retrieved the components of his decoy from around the room. Separated, they were innocuous—extra blankets stored under the bed, towels from their place in a drawer, pillows from the cupboard, hat from the chest where Larine stored their winter clothes. Together they created an illusion that would stand up to careful visual inspection. Larine didn’t feel so ashamed at being fooled when she saw again how convincing it was.

Once everything was arranged to his satisfaction, Ozor slipped out of his room, through hers, and into the corridor. The upper floors were almost deserted, with everyone downstairs waiting for the announcement. The one wizard he passed on the stairs grinned at him and tousled his hair. It wasn’t unusual for inhabitants of the Hall to run to the outdoor privies at night instead of using the chamberpots in their rooms.

Ozor went straight there, entered, stayed long enough to do his business, and emerged. After a careful look around to make sure no one was in sight, he headed for the street with eager, purposeful strides. Anger and fear beat in Larine’s ears as he rounded the corner of the Mother’s Hall and took the road that led toward the center of the city, where some commercial establishments stayed open late into the night. The streets of Elathir were reasonably safe—watchers were always around, and any criminal they couldn’t apprehend on their own was quickly captured with the wizards’ help—but late-night entertainments were meant for adults, not children. Even if no one sought to harm him, he could be exposed to things he wasn’t ready for. And there was always the chance that people who preyed on the weak and helpless lurked in the dark corners of the city, keeping their activities secretive enough to escape the wizards’ and watchers’ notice.

Larine stood frozen with indecision as Flutter pushed the window to the edge of their range and it dissolved into sparkles. It had been more than five hours since Ozor had been where they lost him, a mile south of the Hall, hurrying farther away. The Mother only knew where he’d ended up. As much as she wanted to conceal her failure to keep her child safe, getting help was more important.

Flutter flapped for balance as Larine darted into the corridor and ran for the stairs. She was panting so hard by the time she tore Dabiel’s door open she couldn’t speak for a moment. Only two people were left within, sitting across from each other amid the decorations and detritus from the party, deep in conversation. They swiveled to face her as she gasped her plea. “Ozor’s run away. You’ve got to help me find him.”

Dabiel was at her side in a moment, her arms encircling Larine’s shoulders in bracing comfort. “We will. You traced him as far as you could, I take it? Where was he going?”

“To the East Market.” Between the main market and the docks was a busy district full of taverns and other nightlife. Larine hated to think of Ozor there, but where else would hold excitement enough to tempt him out of his cozy bed? “I’ve only just started to let him go around the city without me during the day, and only with friends. What if he’s lost in the dark and can’t find his way home? What if he gets hurt, with no one to help him? What if—”

Hanion came to her other side and took her hand. “We’ll find him. He’ll be fine.” Thunder snorted his agreement, and Buttons chimed in with a forceful grunt.

Larine babbled her thanks. Her friends and their familiars accompanied her downstairs and outside. In the plaza, Hanion leaped astride Thunder. “We’ll scout ahead. If we find him, we’ll bring him to meet you.”

Larine watched them canter away, a window shining over Hanion’s hand like a captured star. Dabiel strode after him, Buttons trotting at her side, eyes fixed on their own window. Larine hurried to catch up. She didn’t ask Flutter to open another window. No use wasting energy they might need later.

They’d gone a few blocks when Dabiel cleared her throat and jerked her head at the image over her hand. Ozor strode purposefully through the dark streets. “He looks very confident. Comfortable. Is there a chance he might have done this before?”

With a sinking heart, Larine considered the question. “He used to fight going to bed, but recently he hasn’t been complaining. I usually peek in last thing, and he’s always asleep.” How often had it been the decoy she’d seen instead of Ozor? Not every time—she could distinctly remember her son’s slumbering face touched by moonlight, an outflung hand dangling off the bed, a grunt as he rolled over, rhythmic snores as he slept. But there had been plenty of nights when she’d been happy to see him motionless and quiet, swathed by covers even on warm summer evenings. “He likes to sleep late in the morning, but don’t they all at this age? Usually I get up and head downstairs an hour or two before he wakes up. He works on lessons in the dining hall most mornings. In the afternoon I let him go off to play with his friends. When it rains he likes to sit in one of the courtrooms and watch the cases. I guess sometimes he seems sleepy during the day, but he’s a growing boy. I never thought anything of it.”

Dabiel nodded without looking at her. “After we find him, you should take some time to trace his movements over the past few months.” She gestured at the window. “I don’t think he’d be this assured if it was his first time.”

Looking at Ozor’s relaxed posture and eager stride, Larine had to agree. She swallowed. “That almost makes me feel better. I mean, he must have come home safely before. He might even be on his way back to the Hall now. He must sneak back in early enough to be sure Flutter and I will still be asleep.”

Flutter shivered against her neck. I should have heard him.

She stroked his feathers. So should I. But if we had, he’d just have said he was coming back from the privy. She would have believed him, even though she knew very well he didn’t always tell her the truth.

“If he is, Hanion will see him.” Buttons shifted the window to a broad overhead view of Thunder and Hanion several blocks ahead. Larine couldn’t make out much in the dim moonlight, but there were only a few moving shapes in the shadowed streets around them, and they were all adult-sized. Dabiel shook her head, and the window reverted to the view of Ozor.

They passed the striped canopies and shuttered stalls of the market and turned onto a street lined with taverns. They were mostly quiet now, but in the window they teemed with patrons. Ozor hurried by without stopping, although occasionally he greeted someone by name or responded to a call with a grin and wave. Larine and Dabiel exchanged grim glances at the confirmation. Ozor had done this many times.

Hanion waited outside a large, windowless building. It had once been a warehouse, but now it hosted wrestling matches. Several times each week crowds would congregate to watch and wager, cheer on their favorites, celebrate their wins or curse their losses. Larine saw such a crowd in the window, streaming into the building. Ozor joined their ranks eagerly.

Hanion shook his head. “I followed him until the first match started, but then I lost him. We’re going to have to try and pick him up again when he comes out.”

Larine saw what he meant. Dabiel’s window tracked Ozor through the crowd. He visited the counter where wagers were being taken and recorded, then joined the milling throng around the central raised platform. It was a bit more difficult to keep track of him among the hundreds of men and women packing the space, but Buttons managed it easily until the announcer climbed onto the platform and called for the crowd’s attention. All around the big open room lanterns went out, until everything was dark save for the brightly lit platform. As the first two wrestlers began their bout, Larine strained to make out Ozor’s face. The window zoomed in until his bright eyes and yelling mouth filled the circle, but the crowd kept moving, and he constantly shifted his position to get a better view. The shapes in the window were no more than shadows and glints in the gloom. After a while Ozor drifted toward the back of the audience where it was even darker. Dabiel frowned, and Larine leaned close, but try as she might she couldn’t distinguish her son’s features among the dozens of other moving, shouting bodies.

“That’s the last place I saw him,” Hanion told them. “I’ve scanned the rest of the time while the matches were going on, and the exits when everyone left, but even after the lights come back on I can’t find him again.” He laid a hand on Larine’s arm. “I only had time for a quick overview, though. With three of us searching, it shouldn’t take long to spot him leaving.”

“Are you sure he did? Maybe he’s still in there.” Dabiel glanced at Buttons, and the window shifted to the present. Inside the building a few workers cleaned up spilled food and drink, paper cones and wooden skewers, discarded programs and betting slips, and other refuse left by the crowd. Only a few lanterns burned, but the light was good enough a swift sweep convinced Larine that Ozor wasn’t within.

She put out a hand and Flutter opened a window. After a brief discussion to divide the area and avoid duplicating their efforts, all three wizards searched the time after the last match concluded. The lights came up, people collected their winnings, and the crowd streamed out the dozen exits. Larine scanned hundreds of faces on their way through the doors, until her eyes felt like they were crossing and she was no longer certain she’d recognize Ozor if he stood in front of her. All the time she waited for an exclamation from Dabiel or Hanion, but they were as silent as she, concentrating on their windows.

Hanion was the first to finish. He took his hand off Thunder, shook both hands, and rubbed them together. “He didn’t leave through any of my doors.”

Dabiel scowled at the window over her palm. “I’m sure I didn’t miss him.”

Panic crowded Larine’s throat as she watched the last few stragglers empty from the building, no boy among them. “I don’t understand. Where did he go?”

“He must have left during the matches.” Hanion drew a deep breath, slapped his hand back on Thunder’s neck, and stuck out the other.

Flutter resettled himself on her shoulder and shifted their window. There were far fewer people exiting while the matches were going on, so Larine was able to scan all her exits rapidly. Still nothing.

She raised her eyes to find Dabiel and Hanion looking at her grimly. She glowered back. “You must have missed him. Hanion, I’ll take your exits, you take Dabiel’s, and she’ll take mine.”

Gently, Dabiel said, “We could be here until dawn checking and rechecking. Maybe we should go to the Hall and wait for him to come back.”

“He could be there already,” Hanion added encouragingly. A new window bloomed over his hand. They were too far from the Hall for Thunder to show it, but he displayed a high view of the streets leading that direction. Larine longed to see a hurrying or trudging form, but nothing moved. Hanion grimaced and dropped his hand. “We might have missed him going back.”

“You search for that. Dabiel, make sure he’s not hiding somewhere inside. I’m going to keep rechecking the exits.” Larine set her mouth and bent determinedly to her task.

She’d surely looked at several thousand faces when Hanion’s voice broke into her concentration. “Larine, how much spending money do you give Ozor?”

She blinked and rubbed her eyes. “A little. Why?”

Hanion frowned at the image of Ozor passing his wagers to a woman behind the counter. The window focused on the money. Larine swallowed. A great many more coins changed hands than she’d ever entrusted to Ozor.

“We’ve already concluded he’s done this before. Maybe he’s had a run of good luck.” Dabiel chewed on her lip.

“Very good luck, for a long time, to accumulate that much.” Thunder moved the window to show the wagers marked on the slip, then skimmed through the matches, pausing on each winner. “And it ended tonight. He lost every match. Which means he won’t have come to the counter afterward, since he had no winnings to collect, so we can’t look for him there.”

Larine rubbed the back of her neck. Her head ached. She and Flutter were both so tired, trying to heal the source of the pain would probably be counterproductive. “You think he got the money somewhere else.”

“I’m afraid he did. And I suspect he came here for more than just the wagering. I think he hid in the crowd on purpose, to escape a window in case you or any other wizard tried to follow him.”

“He must have given this a lot of thought.” Dabiel didn’t look happy with her conclusion. “You said he likes to watch court cases? He would have seen what sort of evasive tactics work, and which don’t.”

“In which case, continuing to try and trace him will be futile. Even if we catch him leaving here, he’ll have made additional maneuvers to throw us off his track. We could search for days before we unravelled them all. There’s an easier way.” Hanion took Larine’s hands. “We need to go back to the Hall and catch him when he returns.”

Dabiel nodded, her eyes bleak, and put an arm around Larine’s shoulders. “Then we can trace him back to find out what he was doing.”

“Stealing, you mean. You think that’s where he got the money.” Larine pulled away from them.

“Unfortunately, it seems likely. That, or something else illegal.” Hanion met Larine’s eyes with compassion, but also uncompromising resolve.

“No one blames you,” Dabiel said quickly.

They did, though. Larine could see it in the way Hanion’s jaw jutted, the way Dabiel’s eyes slid away. They were wizards; upholding justice was part of their calling. If Ozor was guilty of the things they suspected, they’d never agree to help her cover them up.

She should have followed him alone. Then she could have kept him safe. Flutter wouldn’t have become suspicious if she’d kept her fears hidden and claimed frustration and weariness as her reasons for giving up the chase. Now she saw no way to prevent her friends from delving into the past until they uncovered whatever Ozor had done. They’d drag him into court to face the consequences. Ozor’s future would be compromised, his life forever altered. Everyone in Elathir would see how badly Larine had failed as a mother.

She fought to hold back tears, but her voice came out choked and ragged. “All right. Let’s go back to the Hall.”

Dabiel embraced her hard and let go. Hanion squeezed her hands and released them. The three of them and their familiars trudged through the dark streets until they reached the plaza outside the Mother’s Hall.

Dabiel took charge. “Buttons and I will watch the main doors. Hanion, you take the back. I suspect that’s where he’s most likely to come in, using the privy excuse again. Larine, go to your room and wait for him, in case he slips by both of us. Everyone keep windows open scanning the whole area. If Flutter is up to it, he can scout farther.”

Hanion surveyed the dark Hall. “Should we wake anyone else to help?”

Dabiel frowned for a moment, then shook her head. “They need their sleep. If he comes back at all, we’ll catch him.” She hesitated. “If he appears to be safe and well, I’ll let him pass. Larine should be the one to talk to him.”

Hanion nodded slowly. “I’ll do the same. We can keep windows on each other and give the signal if we spot him. Follow him up, but stay out of sight and wait outside the door of their room. If Larine needs help, she can call us.” He turned to Larine. “Does that sound good?”

Larine wished she could ask her friends to deal with Ozor for her, but she couldn’t. It was her responsibility. She nodded.

Hanion gave a curt nod in reply. Dabiel looked at her worriedly, but nodded also. The three of them split up and headed to their places.

Larine sat in the chair by the window, Flutter in her lap, stroking his head and back with long, slow motions. She tensed when the door swung silently open, but didn’t move.

Ozor slipped through. He was grinning, a tired but satisfied expression, as if he’d accomplished a good day’s work. He glanced at Larine’s bed as he headed for the door to his room. When he saw it was empty, he stiffened and scanned the room.

His eyes met Larine’s. He froze for an instant, then smiled and shrugged. His hushed voice sounded normal. If she didn’t know he was lying, she wouldn’t have noticed anything wrong. “It’s easier to go down to the privy than to empty the chamberpot and clean it. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t.”

Ozor edged toward his room. “That’s good. G’night.”

Larine rose and with two swift strides was between him and his door. “I know you didn’t only go to the privy. We tracked you to the wrestling match before we lost you. We never saw you coming out, and it’s been more than three hours since it ended. Where did you go? And we know you lost your wagers, so where did that come from?” She pointed at the heavy purse on his belt.

Ozor stared at her like a rabbit at a wolf. His eyes shifted to Flutter in the crook of her arm and to her tense fingers, ready to send the Mother’s power to seize him. He gulped. “I… One of my friends was luckier than I was, and he shared with me. We went to his apartment afterward to talk and play cards. I don’t know why you didn’t see me leave the wrestling match, but I guess it was awfully crowded.” He spread his hands with a sheepish expression. “I knew you’d never allow me to go to the matches, even with a friend. That’s why I had to sneak out.” His forehead creased and he scowled, righteous indignation in his tone. “Really, Mother, it’s perfectly safe. I’ve gone more than a dozen times now, and I’ve never had any trouble. You’re not going to make a big fuss about this, are you?”

If Dabiel and Hanion weren’t waiting in the corridor, watching through a window, she could accept his excuse, give him a thorough scolding, and send him to bed with a promise to monitor his every move from now on and a threat of dire retribution if he ever frightened her that way again. But they were, so she couldn’t. “Not if that’s what I see when I trace you back.”

It was hard to tell in the dim light, but she thought he went pale. “You don’t have to do that.” His voice sharpened. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

She felt as tired as if she’d spent her energy to the point of burnout, as heavy as if her flesh had turned to lead. “I wish I could, but I don’t. If I find out you just told me the truth, maybe I’ll start to.” She put out her hand, and Flutter kindled a window over her palm.

“No!” Ozor’s pretense of calm deserted him. He lunged at Larine. “You can’t!”

Flutter’s reflexes were slowed by age. Before he could send the Mother’s power to freeze Ozor in place, the boy’s hands seized him and tore him from Larine’s grasp. For an instant she was too shocked to move, but then she grabbed his arm and fought to reach her familiar. Ozor yanked away and hurled Flutter across the room.

The falcon tumbled through space, struggling to get his wings open. They slowed him, but Larine still heard a sickening thud as he struck the wall. Ozor ran for the door.

It opened before he reached it. Golden light poured through, enveloping him and halting him mid-stride. Hanion and Thunder kept him frozen while Dabiel rushed to Flutter, Buttons charging close behind. Larine stumbled to join them, an awful blankness in her mind.

“He’s alive, just unconscious,” Dabiel said. Larine dropped to her knees and plunged her hands into the warm, tingling light. Her fingers felt Flutter’s heart racing beneath the feathers of his breast, but his thoughts remained absent, and she could do nothing. Thank the Mother Dabiel and Buttons were there to pour power into the falcon’s body and speed him back to health.

She pulled her hands back, but stayed crouched beside Flutter while they worked. Maybe she should go and speak to Ozor, but she couldn’t. Rage roared in her heart. He’d hurt the only other creature in the world she loved as much as she loved him. He’d struck out in violence at someone smaller and weaker than himself. He’d stolen and committed who knew what other crimes. He’d turned his back on everything she’d taught him about obedience and respect. He’d become something she didn’t even recognize. If she confronted him now, she might not be able to restrain her fury. At best she’d scream cruel, hateful words she’d later regret. At worst she’d lash out with the same violence he’d used. Her hands ached to shake and slap and strike him until he begged for mercy. Maybe then he’d understand what pain felt like and stop inflicting it on others.

Larine?

Flutter! Her familiar’s presence in her mind was weak and shaky, but it was there. She resisted the urge to sweep him into her arms and smother him against her chest. I’m so sorry. I never dreamed Ozor would attack you.

I could have stopped him if I wasn’t so slow.

Beneath the falcon’s frustration Larine sensed a fearfulness that had never been there before. She squeezed her eyes shut. It’s not your fault. I should have protected you. She swallowed. I should have taught him better.

Flutter’s eyes opened and he struggled to his feet. I can finish healing myself.

Let Dabiel and Buttons do it. They’re almost done.

He extended his wings, gave a few experimental flaps, and carefully folded them again. At least let’s take a look and make sure they fixed everything right.

If you insist. In other circumstances Larine would have laughed at his fastidious tone. But though she would trust Dabiel and Buttons with her life, she, too, wanted to see and feel for herself that the bird’s injuries were properly healed.

She reached for Flutter. Her hand found its accustomed spot on his back, and more golden light glowed around the falcon’s body, joining that coming from Dabiel’s hand. The sensory impressions that flooded her mind were as familiar as those provided by her eyes and ears and nose and mouth and skin. She flinched at the extent of new scarring in Flutter’s left wing and shoulder. Once they finish with those last few small bones, you should have full function.

It’s going to ache when the weather changes. More than it already does, I mean.

There was barely any humor in Flutter’s tone, just bleak acceptance of the ravages of age. Larine felt his body’s weariness. For months she’d been able to detect a trace of dimming around the edges. One day, not too long in the future, his life would fade until it was nearly transparent, drawing away from this world and toward the Mother’s presence. All the golden light in the world couldn’t reverse that process.

But for now he was alive and as healthy as a twenty-year-old falcon could be. Dabiel sat back, Buttons grunted, and their light winked out. Flutter hopped into Larine’s lap and snuggled against her chest. She stroked his feathers, then lifted him to her shoulder, her heart heavy. She’d run out of excuses to avoid dealing with her son.

The intervening minutes and Flutter’s restoration had dulled the edge of her anger. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself further, then climbed to her feet. Hanion and Thunder had moved into the room and turned Ozor so he faced the corner where Larine had been crouched. Ozor stared at her with the expression she most hated to see on his face—mulishly stubborn defiance, combined with a haughty self-assurance that refused to admit any possibility he might be wrong.

“Let him talk.” Larine probably should have offered to take control of her son, but she was so exhausted she might not have enough energy left, and Hanion seemed willing to continue. He nodded, and the light retreated from Ozor’s head. Her son kept his mouth tight shut, glaring at her.

Dabiel came to stand beside Larine and put a hand on her shoulder. It gave her enough courage to take a deep breath, clear her throat, and address Ozor. “Do you want to tell us what we’re going to see? The truth this time?”

He scowled and remained silent.

“Very well.” Larine extended her hand. As Flutter drew on her energy to push a window open, her legs went rubbery and her head swam. She panted for breath and leaned into Dabiel’s hand for support. In the window, Ozor hurried backward out of their suite, down the stairs, and out of the Hall. Hanion turned the current Ozor and steered him out the door ahead of him and Thunder. Larine followed, Dabiel and Buttons close behind.

The procession retraced Ozor’s steps. For the second time that night, Larine walked through the dark city. This time the sky in the east was a slightly lighter gray than the rest. The window led them to the southern edge of Elathir, where a stream flowed to the river from the reservoir that provided the city’s water. Just below the dam stood a grist mill. Its great water wheel creaked as it turned. The building stood dark and silent.

The window showed Ozor squeezing backward through a small window into the mill. Larine had Flutter speed the image to the point where he emerged from the same window and backed in the direction of the wrestling arena. The falcon reversed the flow of time in the window so it ran forward again. Larine watched, sick dread in her stomach.

Ozor sauntered casually past the mill, glanced idly up and down the deserted street, then darted behind a clump of flowering bushes that grew against the stone wall. The little window was overhead. He rose from the cover of the bushes and used a long, slender tool to release the catch on the shutters and pull them open. He ducked down again, peeked to make sure no one had come into view, then put his hands on the windowsill, boosted himself up, and shimmied through headfirst. It was a close fit—an adult couldn’t have done it.

Their viewpoint passed through the wall to reveal Ozor moving through the dark rooms of the mill, passing piled sacks of grain and flour. He reached the office and slipped through the unlocked door. Larine expected him to approach the large chest where the miller must store his coins until he could deposit them with the Bankers’ Guild, but it was secured with a heavy padlock, and Ozor ignored it. He went instead to a corner behind the big desk that dominated the room. A low bookshelf stood there. Grunting, Ozor dragged it away from the wall. He squeezed into the gap and knelt. Larine frowned and had Flutter move the window closer. Ozor inserted the same slender tool between two floorboards. He applied pressure, and one of the boards popped up.

In the dim light Larine could barely make out a cache of bulging moneybags. Ozor opened them in turn, extracting a few coins from each and tucking them into his purse. He carefully secured the bags so nothing appeared disturbed, set the floorboard in place, and wrestled the bookshelf back over the hidden compartment. After a final survey of the office, he nodded and headed back for the window where he’d entered.

Flutter let the sparkling sphere over Larine’s palm fade. She dropped her arm. Nothing she’d seen was a surprise, but witnessing it with her own eyes put a terrible finality on what had before been only supposition.

Without speaking, Dabiel put out her hand and a new window formed. It flickered through night after night, backward through time. In far too many of them, Larine saw a similar scene play out.

Hanion shook his head as the display continued. “What I don’t understand is why the thefts weren’t reported. The miller must have noticed the money was missing. If not from the weight of the sacks, when he did his accounts.”

Dabiel frowned at the image of Ozor moving the bookcase. “It’s a secret stash. Maybe he didn’t want to draw attention to his own misdeeds.” She glanced at Buttons. The window switched to a daylight scene. Larine looked away from the glare, but Dabiel studied the bright circle intently. “We’ll have to do a full investigation, but from what I’m seeing it looks like the master miller skims a little of each day’s take and secretes it before he records the total. I can’t tell from what I can see, but I suspect the mill’s scales are weighted. Each bag of grain appears a little lighter than it is, each sack of flour a little heavier. The miller pockets the difference in price.” She turned to Ozor. “Clever of you to figure it out. I assume you knew?”

Ozor sneered at her. “Of course I did. If you don’t want to get caught, you have to make sure nobody ever realizes there’s anything to look at. Master Korun wasn’t about to report a few missing coins to the Watch. That would have brought wizards to investigate, and they would have discovered everything.”

Hanion frowned at him. “As we have.”

Ozor scowled back. “Only because Mother decided to check on me like I was a baby.”

Hanion opened his mouth, but Dabiel laid a hand on his arm. “How did you manage to find out what Master Korun was doing, when he hid it so carefully?”

Ozor rolled his eyes. “It was obvious. He always lost money on the wrestling matches, but he laughed like it was a big joke. He was always buying new clothes from the fanciest tailors, and taking his friends to the most expensive restaurants, and treating everyone in the tavern to rounds of the best ale. None of the other millers could afford things like that. And I heard some master farmers complaining that the harvest was smaller than usual, so it wasn’t that he was doing lots of business. And a baker told a friend her bread wasn’t as good as it used to be, and she couldn’t figure out why. Her friend said the flour must be bad.” He beamed, proud of his cleverness. “Once I put it all together, it was just a matter of pretending I was interested in apprenticing with the Millers’ Guild so I could hang around the mill and have everyone show me what they did. I knew Master Korun must be hiding the money somewhere, so I kept my eyes open. When he showed me his office and how he keeps the accounts, I noticed scuff marks on the floor around that bookshelf. The first time I snuck in I didn’t have the right tool to get the floorboard up, but there were scratches along the edge, so I knew I was on the right track.”

Larine listened, both fascinated and horrified. She knew Ozor was observant, but she’d never realized just how much. She couldn’t help but be impressed by his ingenuity and persistence, despite her despair that it had been employed in a criminal pursuit.

Hanion shook his head in disgust. “Let’s get him back to the Hall. He can be tried tomorrow.” He grimaced at the brightening eastern horizon. “Later today, I mean. The Watch can arrest Master Korun, and we’ll try him, too.” The golden light pouring from his hand rotated Ozor until he was facing back the way they’d come. “Come along, Ozor. You’d better hope we find the rest of what you stole. If you’ve already spent it, you’re going to be working for the Millers’ Guild for months to repay the value. Perhaps they’ll set you and Korun to hauling sacks of grain side by side. That should give both of you plenty of opportunity to repent your crimes.” He chuckled grimly.

Dabiel nodded her agreement. Larine echoed the gesture, too numb and exhausted to do anything else. They followed Hanion as he and Thunder propelled Ozor back to the Hall.