And the effect of Ghassan's spell was lost.

He began his mental work again, eager to reach for the captain's thoughts—and those of Duchess Reine.

"Your Highness," Rodian said, clearly confused. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Ghassan finished the sigils, shapes, and glyphs in his mind's eye, but behind Rodian's spoken words he picked up only a muffled sound in the man's mind—like a far-off voice, muted and unintelligible behind a closed door.

He instantly let the spell wane and scanned the room.

Something—or someone—had interfered. It was not strong, and likely he could have broken through. But if it were an active intervention, rather than some emplaced work or hidden device, whoever held it by will might have felt his effort.

Who else here could even have knowledge or skill like his?

Ghassan's attention was pulled back as Duchess Reine spoke to Sykion.

"Lady Tärtgyth, it has been too long. I trust the latest endowment arrived without complication?"

Rodian turned startled eyes upon the premin, as did Ghassan. The duchess referred to Sykion by her first name—and as "lady"?

"Yes, we're honored, and thank you for visiting," Sykion answered. "The captain was inquiring about an unfortunate break-in at a scribe shop."

"I heard," the duchess replied. "Very unfortunate."

Another surprise. How had word of a mere burglary so quickly reached the royal family?

Duchess Reine glanced sidelong at Rodian. "Surely searching among our sages will help you little in finding the criminal."

The captain shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Highness, I believed the royal family would be most concerned over the deaths of two young sages. And certain guild documents have gone missing twice in two nights. I simply wish to inquire about the nature of those documents… to guard against another such loss."

"You have evidence that the guild's project is the target of these crimes?" the duchess asked, and she seemed to work too hard at keeping her tone light.

Rodian glanced at Premin Sykion and struggled for an answer. "Not specifically, but it seems clear—"

"The translation project is important to the guild's masters," Duchess Reine went on. "And they are important to our land and people, yes?"

At the duchess's turn, the folds of her skirt twisted. A long slit down the front separated, revealing darker breeches and a pair of glistening, polished riding boots.

This attire was out of place for a royal of the Malourné, but not so for a noble of Faunier. Descended from horse people, they were skilled riders, their high-bred mounts prized even in Ghassan's homeland.

"For now, could you not pursue other leads—until certain of a connection?" the duchess asked. "I remain confident you will solve both these crimes long before such invasive tactics are necessary."

"Your Highness?" Rodian asked.

"The royal family would be grateful for your good faith."

The captain fell silent. With a long side glance at Premin Sykion, he finally dropped his eyes and nodded deeply.

Duchess Reine returned a nod of lesser depth. "Thank you, Siweard… you have my faith as well—in your abilities. Baron Twynam will join us at dinner on the next full moon. I understand he is a friend of yours. We would be most pleased if you could attend as well."

Rodian lifted his eyes and nodded again.

Ghassan had not missed the duchess's slip. She had called the captain by his first name, something far too familiar for the public venue and their disparate social ranks.

Duchess Reine turned back to Premin Sykion. "Lady Tärtgyth, would you and Domin High-Tower favor me with a tour of the new library's improvement's imprts? I have meant to come for so long, but… time has simply passed too quickly."

Premin Sykion tilted her head politely to the captain and then led Duchess Reine's entire entourage toward the northeastern passage. High-Tower was the last to follow, with a derisive grunt at Rodian.

Ghassan watched them leave—with a long study of the tall elf walking close in the duchess's wake. The cut of that one's robe was the same, or nearly so, as that of a sage. But white was not the color of any guild order. And the notion of interference with his spell from that source was preposterous. As much as his art was little known among humans, it was less likely to be found among the Lhoin'na—those "of the Glade."

Guild domins and premins would go to great lengths to restrict specific knowledge of translations from the texts. But royal intervention had come too quickly. Had Sykion asked the monarchy for help? And if not, did Duchess Reine or the royal family know something of the text's content, wishing to keep it hidden, even from the captain of the Shyldfälches?

Ghassan exhaled in frustration. One of the royal family had appeared at precisely the right moment, referred to a premin by a noble title, and betrayed a connection to the one man digging too deeply into guild affairs.

And Captain Rodian came straight at Ghassan's table, his jaw clenched. He was obviously unaccustomed to having his leash jerked in, no matter how politely done by such a gentle hand.

"Journeyor Hygeorht," Rodian said through his teeth. "Would you be good enough to walk me to my horse?"

It was not a request, and Ghassan stood up. While considering these new tangles, he had almost forgotten Wynn sitting right across from him.

"You cannot find your horse alone?" he challenged.

"It's all right, domin," Wynn said, swinging her legs over the bench to rise beside the captain. "I'll walk out with him."

Glowing lines and marks flashed across Ghassan's sight, and he reached for her thoughts.

…and all Nikolas's foolishness… and all this mess around Jeremy and Elias…

A wave of anxiety flooded Ghassan. What had Nikolas to do with anything? He tried reaching deeper.

Wynn put a hand to her temple and looked around the hall.

Ghassan immediately severed contact. Had she felt him? No, not possible; she had no training or experience. He watched carefully as Wynn followed Rodian out the wide archway.

Perhaps too many spells, cast too quickly, with lost attempts due to new random pieces he had just gathered. For whatever reason, Ghassan felt a twinge building in his own head.

"You know the duchess?" Wynn asked, taking two steps for Rodian's one.

His position as captain was well respected. But even so, members of the Shyldfälches didn't have dinner with the royal family—certainly not at the invite of the wife of a prince, even a deceased one.

"I assisted her once," he said bluntly, but he stared ahead, focusing on nothing.

Wynn didn't press further. She suddenly realized that she knew part of this story. Even in self-imposed seclusion, rumors reached her. The higher they came from, the more momentum they gathered as they rolled downward through all levels of society.

About two years ago Prince Freädherich of the Âreskynna had died, and his body was never found.

The tale was that he and his wife, Duchess Reine, had gone out in a small sailboat one evening. Not even members of the Weardas had accompanied them. The boat was found adrift late the next morning with only the hysterical Duchess Reine aboard.

As a Faunier, she knew nothing of sailing and had been unable to bring the small boat ashore. It was said that when she was found she was half-mad with grief, and couldn't—or wouldn't—explain what had become of her husband. Strangely, not one of the royal family raised charges against her, but just the same, an inquest was required by law.

A young captain of the Shyldfälches, newly promoted when his predecessor retired, investigated the disappearance. The inquest was held privately in the royal court. No one ever learned what the young captain had uncovered.

Though the duchess was never proven wholly innocent in the eyes of the people, neither was she charged in any way. The king and queen still held her dear, as if she were one of their own children by blood rather than marriage. Prince Freädherich's death was officially cited as accidental. And all because of a report presented by the newly appointed captain of the Shyldfälches.