"I'm from the guild…," she began weakly.

He raised one eyebrow, as if to say, Obviously.

"I need to speak with someone… a scribe," she added. "A girl with dark brown hair, slightly frizzed and curled and—"

"Imaret?"

Wynn didn't know the name but she nodded. The old man's face softened with something close to sadness.

"Come," he said, and opened the other door behind the counter. "I'm Master Teagan. Imaret is working in back."

Wynn had seen Imaret crying last night, which suggested the girl knew Jeremy or Elias. Sages in training occasionally made friends with working scribes, as such connections could be useful later. And it wasn't uncommon for apprentice scribes to seek schooling with the guild.

Master Teagan must have assumed Wynn was another companion come to offer condolences. He flipped open a hinged panel in the counter to let her through, and she suppressed a pang of guilt at her deception.

The scriptorium's rear was quite different from the front. The large back room was filled with tables and desks, chairs and tall stools. Bright lanterns stationed about the room provided ample light as scribes worked upon sheets amid scattered quills, blotting pads, and trimming knives. Shelves lined the back wall around the stout rear door with its iron bar. These were filled to the top with stacks of blank parchment, bottles of ink, jars of drying talc and sand, and other sundry supplies.

Only a few scribes sat at work, and Imaret was easy to pick out.

She sat at the room's far corner behind a short table suitable to her stature. That by itself showed she was an exception here, aside from her surprising age. What professional scriptorium would have such a young girl working as a scribe?

But Imaret wasn't scribing anything.

The bell over the door in the front room tinkled.

Imaret lowered her voice. "He asked them to verify the folio's delivery, but after they'd been gone a short while he seemed… bothered. He kept pacing, and…"

Wynn waited, and Imaret glanced at the back door. "And?" Wynn finally said.

"He kept looking at the back door, but he never opened it. Then he just stopped suddenly and stared at the wall."

Imaret's gaze shifted, and Wynn glanced along the girl's line of sight. But she saw nothing except the back room's far wall beyond the end of the storage shelves.

"Then he grabbed his cloak and told me not to leave the shop." Imaret trembled slightly. "He rushed out the back… and didn't even stop to lock the door."

"What's this all about?" Master Teagan sputtered.

Wynn straightened. She'd learned a thing or two about keeping up a lie from watching Leesil.

"Two of our people are dead, and the folio in their charge is missing. Domin High-Tower wishes to know the events beforehand."

"Then why didn't he come himself?"

"We are in mourning, and he has greater matters to attend. I'm Journeyor Wynn Hygeorht."

Teagan blinked, his pupils exaggerated by his thick-lensed glasses. And Wynn could tell he recognized her name.

Perhaps he knew she was the one responsible for the current wealth of scribe's work—and good payment. Domin High-Tower and Premin Sykion had warned her against speaking to anyone concerning what she'd brought back. But of course there were many at the guild who already knew she was the one who had caused so much «fuss» for the last half year.

Teagan's scraggly eyebrows wrinkled, but he finally grumbled off to check on the other scribes. Wynn turned her attention back to Imaret.

"So… Master a'Seatt became worried about the length of their absence and went after them?"

"Yes," Imaret said, her eyes growing distant. "I knew Jeremy and Elias had plans to meet up with… other friends. I thought they might deliver the folio and ignore Master a'Seatt's request for confirmation, so I decided to go after them. And I left the shop."

Wynn sighed. Aside from Imaret disobeying her employer, a young girl shouldn't be wandering about alone at night.

"Then I heard a scream," Imaret whispered. "I didn't know where it came from until I heard footsteps… in the side street down the way."

Imaret choked off, and Wynn put her hand gently on the girl's shoulder.

"I went to look… and saw them," the girl whispered, "but he was there… Master a'Seatt was already there."

"That is quite enough!" Master Teagan sputtered. "If Domin High-Tower wants any more morbid details, he can damn well—"

"Speak with me," a deep voice cut in, "after my investigation is complete."

Wynn jerked upright.

Captain Rodian stood in the workroom's doorway, glaring at her.

How long had he been listening? He wasn't due at the shop until evening, as Master a'Seatt had requested. Rodian strode across the room, his swinging cloak dragging a few parchments from an unattended table.

"Mistress Hygeorht, is it?" he demanded. "What are you doing here?"

In last night's fear and sorrow, she hadn't taken much note of him.

At first nothing about him stood out. Of medium height and build, he wore the typical garb of the Shyldfälches, but beneath his open cloak his red tabard was carefully pressed. His cropped hair was an almost colorless shade of dark blond, but the slightly darker close beard along his jawline was perfectly trimmed. His eyes struck her the most—large for the rest of his face and a light shade of blue.

Wynn swallowed and calmed herself. He would be just like Premin Sykion or Domin High-Tower—another obstacle to the truth.

"I'm asking after dead friends and our lost folio," she answered. "Is that against the law?"

"That depends upon circumstances… or any interference in my investigation."

He glanced once at little Imaret, then turned his heated suspicion past Wynn to Master Teagan. The old scribe returned it in kind for another unwelcome outsider. The captain appeared to compose himself.

"Forgive the intrusion," he said, but it hardly sounded apologetic. "I've just come from the guild, though no one there seems able to tell me what was in the folio that Jeremy and Elias carried. Perhaps one of you can help."

And his gaze settled back on Wynn.

Both Teagan and Imaret frowned in unison.

"Did the sages not explain about their script?" Teagan asked.

"No," Rodian returned, but he never took his eyes off of Wynn.

Wynn grew nervous, then agitated, and then angry over being scrutinized. As usual she started babbling.

"Even if the scribes were allowed to speak of their work—which they are not—only a few have enough experience with our Begaine syllabary to read any of it. They are concerned only with aesthetics and precision of copying and are trained to carefully rescribe a draft. Only journeyors or higher among the guild are fluent in this writing system, which is more than some standardized set of letters."

Master Teagan ignored her and spoke to Rodian. "No work from the guild was delivered today. I didn't pay attention to pages scribed yesterday and have nothing to say regarding their content. By our contract with the guild, you'd better have a court order before you ask that again. I was under the impression that you would be visiting us this evening. We have work to do. Master a'Seatt should be present tonight for any sort of… interrogation."

Rodian's eyes flicked only once to Teagan, with a mild twitch of annoyance.

Wynn knew he wouldn't likely question scribes right in front of her. So why had he come here unannounced?

The captain finally nodded to Teagan, but he settled a strong hand on Wynn's shoulder.

"Wynn Hygeorht… please come with me."

Instead of waiting on her answer, he pushed her with slow, steady force toward the door to the front room. Wynn wished she had some way out of this place other than in the captain's company.

Imaret stood up, and her stool scraped sharply across the floor. The tears had already dried on her cheeks.