Wynn glanced up at Rodian.

She'd never cared enough about the rumor to put a face to the city captain who accomplished this feat. No wonder Duchess Reine had invited him to dinner.

"Was anyone hurt during the break-in?" she asked.

"No." He glanced down at her. "It happened after closing."

The captain hesitated, and his brows gathered as he scrutinized her, perhaps judging whether to say more.

"Whoever did it," he finally went on, "got into the shop and then broke out. Would any of your people know how or why?"

Wynn was confused by the captain's brief explanation. So many of Calm Seatt's citizens viewed sages as possessing arcane knowledge rather than just as hardworking scholars.

"I don't think so."

Then she mulled Rodian's words more carefully. The thief managed to gain access, but then had to break out?

"You might ask Domin il'Sänke," she added.

"Why?"

"He is a master of methe'master aology, metaphysics and the like, which includes the scholarly study of magic."

When they reached the courtyard, Rodian's white mare stood waiting near the open inner gate, not even tied to a post. She nickered at the sight of the captain.

"A pretty thing," Wynn said as they approached, and she reached up to stroke the animal's velvet nose. "And so gentle."

"Unless I'm threatened," Rodian said, and then his voice softened as he patted the horse's neck. "Then she is fierce. Her name is Snowbird. I trained her myself."

"Do your people raise horses?"

His expression closed up, as if he'd given away something private. Wynn knew he hadn't asked her out here to discuss Duchess Reine or his horse. She waited quietly.

"What was your real reason for going to Master a'Seatt's scriptorium?" he asked.

Flustered, she wasn't certain how to answer. She'd kept stoutly to her lie of seeking out a grief-stricken Imaret. But the captain had certainly heard too much when he caught up to her.

"To learn what truly happened to Jeremy and Elias," she finally answered.

"So, then you would believe their deaths and the break-in are tied… to this project of your guild?"

"Yes," Wynn answered.

"Then help me," he said. "Even if you don't know what was in those folios, what did you bring back from the Farlands?"

Wynn stared at him, remembering their seemingly casual chat on the ride back to the guild. The first words that came to mind were… you conniving bastard!

She bit her tongue. This was why he'd been so innocently curious about sages and journeyors and assignments. All his polite questions were nothing more than a way to get into her head. She stopped petting Snowbird.

"My first loyalty is to the guild," she replied coldly, "as well as to any agreement of confidence requested of them by the royal family. But I have other information you should know."

"And what is that?" he returned.

"Jeremy was working—without guild knowledge—for a moneylender under investigation by the high advocate."

All the morning's trials and frustration faded from Rodian's face.

He slowly shook his head. Wynn guessed that he might've known of such a case, as head of the city guard. But obviously a link to the deaths hadn't occurred to him—not without the connection she'd just provided.

Rodian patted Snowbird once more. He pointed toward the lone stone bench to the courtyard's left, and Wynn followed to sit with him. She repeated what Nikolas had shared concerning Selwyn Midton and the forged account books. For now she kept Nikolas's involvement to herself. Rodian listened carefully to every word.

"Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?" he asked.

"I just found out last night. But please be discreet. Even you can see how badly this might damage the guild's reputation… and the memory of a dead apprentice."

"Even I?" he returned, but he let the barb pass. "Who told you this?"

Wynn shook her head. "I cannot say."

Rodian's ire began to spread across his face again.

"There's more," she said.

She wasn't certain how to begin, as Duchess Reine had mentioned one of the parties involved.

"Do you know Baron Twynam's son, Jason?"

"Why?" he asked cautiously, which implied «yes» to her question.

"He and Elias were courting the same girl, a merchant's daughter named Elvina. Jason caught Elias one night and threatened to kill him if he didn't stay away from her. I think Elias was going to meet her the night he died."

Rodian's blue eyes widened, and his voice rose. "Where did you hear that?"

She shook her head. "I'm not even certain it'll be helpful," she replied. "What you do next is your own business, but remember discretion… if you expect anything more from me."

Wynn got up and headed across the courtyard, and the captain didn't try to stop her.

Rodian had to investigate all possible leads, but he'd been «royally» warned off of pressing the sages—at least for now.

Wynn fought to remain rational. She had to at least entertain the possibility that Jeremy and Elias had died for some reason other than the folio they'd carried. And the burglary at Master Shilwise's was just a coincidence. But a feeling in the pit of her stomach said otherwise.

Entering the common hall, she found Domin High-Tower and Premin Sykion speaking quietly by the great hearth. Whatever tour they were giving Duchess Reine seemed to have been interrupted, and il'Sänke was nowhere in sight. Wynn willed herself calm as she went to her superiors.

"Thank you for seeing the captain out," Premin Sykion said. "A bit of air has done you good."

Wynn bit down again at this condescension. Treating her like a child was just another way of undermining her. Although she didn't care for High-Tower's cold looks and lectures, at least he was openly hostile.

"Thank you," she answered politely. "I understand that we must keep the translations away from general citizens, like the captain… but you both know someone may be seeking the contents of our folios."

High-Tower grumbled under his breath with a snort, but said nothing discernible.

"If I had access to my journals," she continued, "and translations, and the codex of all recent work, I might help find what this… person is seeking."

"Wynn!" High-Tower growled, trying to silence her.

"I didn't just carry back those texts!" Wynn snapped, and it came out too loud, echoing around the empty hall. "I handpicked every one the best that I could! I know what I chose and why."

She took a long breath, grasping for calm once more, and appealed directly to the premin.

"Please… I can help stop these thefts, or at least offer a motivation for them."

Premin Sykion raised a hand at High-Tower's impending barrage.

"Wynn, do you truly believe you would understand the texts better than the masters of our order, or even those of the other orders helping us? Is that not rather prideful and assumptive?"

Wynn clenched her hands so tightly that her fingernails bit into her palms.

"Please… Premin," she repeated. "What harm could there be in giving me access?"

The slightest flicker of anger crossed Sykion's narrow, serene face. "Your place here, as well as your soundness of mind, has been in question for some time. You will keep away from what does not concern you."

Premin Sykion and Domin High-Tower walked away together.

Wynn stared after the pair until they vanished out of the north archway. She turned to the fireplace and crossed her arms, clutching herself tightly, as if it were the only way to hold herself in one piece.

Why hadn't she presented a more reasoned argument? Someone or something was willing to kill for the secrets of the texts—someone who could read the Begaine syllabary. And none of her superiors seemed the slightest bit willing to acknowledge that truth.