“All fine. Donchen got the worst of us all, fighting those things in the sewer beneath us.”

“So I take it we won the day.”

Meralda nodded. “Nameless and Faceless appeared. I took them up. No more magical rope men.”

Mug turned more eyes toward Meralda. “They just swatted the nasties in a show of selfless goodwill, did they?”

“Something like that.”

Mug imitated a snort. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready, I suppose. The work on the tethers. Making progress?”

Meralda pulled back her chair and sat. “I think so.” She pushed wands and holdstones aside to reveal her latest set of notes and diagrams. “If you feel up to it, this is where I’m stuck.”

Mug sent eyes hovering over the paper, and was silent for a moment.

“Mistress. This is impressive. Tower thinks it will work?”

“Tower is cautiously optimistic,” said Tower from the glass. “Although it must be noted that the basic underpinnings of the mage’s theory are untested and, in fact, untestable.”

“Cheery as always,” said Mug. “Good to hear your voice again, though.”

“You were missed as well, Mug.” The Tower shifted the image in the mirror to avoid a shadow cast by an approaching dirigible.

Mug sighed happily in the fresh wash of sunlight.

“The Bellringers will want to say hello,” said Meralda. “They’ve been bringing you rainwater from a wooden cask out back, because they were convinced plants couldn’t possibly enjoy the taste of water from the tap.”

Mug chuckled. “I’ll be sure and thank them.” His eyes halted over Meralda’s notes. “T? Who is T? And what is he doing correcting your math?”

Meralda smiled. “Someone I dreamed up,” she said. “But never mind that now. We’ve got so much more to do.”

Back to the Tower, thought Meralda. This time, though, I won’t be caught unawares.

The army cleared the streets ahead and sealed them off behind, keeping Meralda’s armored pay master’s wagon well away from any other traffic. Two dozen mounted guards rode about her, swords drawn and gleaming, while an Army dirigible soared low overhead, ready to dispatch its soldiers via dropped lines at the first sight of trouble.

“Hello, mistress,” said Mug. “Can you hear me? Is this thing working?”

The trio of stern-faced palace guards seated across from Meralda looked warily about at the sound.

“What’s that?” asked one.

“It’s nothing,” replied Kervis. “It’s certainly not a voice.”

“What?” said Mug. “Speak up!”

“It’s not a voice you need to hear,” said Kervis. “None of us hear it, do we, Mage?”

Meralda rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Oh, we all hear it, but I’d appreciate it if you gentlemen would pretend you didn’t.”

The guards smiled and nodded.

Meralda raised an intricate glass and brass device to her lips. “I told you to wait until I called you,” she said. “Unless you saw something threatening. Have you seen something threatening, Mug?”

“Um, no. I just wanted to be sure this thing works.”

“Satisfied?”

“Being quiet now.”

Meralda lowered the device and sighed.

The box quietly gathering dust on aisle ten, shelf twenty-two, slot fifteen had been marked simply ‘Vars. Notes.’ It had contained a stack of old parchment pages from which the ink had long since fled.

But the box had a false bottom, and wrapped in silk Meralda found a pair of identical glass devices. Pushing a copper switch on the side of either one while speaking caused the other to sound with the speaker’s voice, and no method Meralda tried was able to eavesdrop on the conversation. Even the jewel was detectable, if one knew what to look for. But Tam’s device might as well be made of ghosts and shadows.

Which made these either handiwork of Tam herself, or something even older she purloined and kept hidden.

Meralda grinned.

One day, I’ll hide them again myself, and thus snub my nose at the Official Inventory.

“We heard the king will be there,” said Kervis, in a whisper.

Meralda nodded. The king’s note had been terse, but at least informative. Inspect the stands and the Tower, it read. Discuss final instructions for loosing the shadow moving spell, etc. etc.

And all done under heavy guard. Meralda wasn’t sure what message Yvin was trying to send by going through with such a risky meeting in the first place, or to whom the message was meant. I have quite enough to worry about without involving politics, she thought. That’s the king’s problem.

I just have to see that Tirlin doesn’t erupt into flames and doom before Yvin delivers the first word of his speech.

The pay master’s wagon rattled and lurched, its iron wheels raising sparks on both sides as the driver urged his eight horse team faster and faster. Built to carry gold, the pay master’s wagon was armored, sturdy, and nearly unstoppable, although its ride was anything but smooth. The thundering hooves of the guards weaving expertly about the wagon added to the din, leaving Meralda thoroughly bruised and nearly deaf by the time the wagon reached the last street before the park and began to slow.

The Bellringers kept their eyes on the windows, wary of every passing shadow. The guards seated across from Meralda did the same.

The wagon rolled to a halt. The hoof beats surrounding it slowed and finally stopped as well.

Orders were shouted. More guards, this time on foot, rushed to the wagon. After a moment, Meralda’s door was opened and the captain, himself, peeked in.

“We’re here,” he said. “Looks safe enough, at the moment. Yvin is waiting.”

Meralda clambered down from the tall, iron-clad wagon. A breeze ran through her hair.

The Bellringers followed and took up positions on either side of her. The guards formed two lines about them, and with a nod from Meralda the party started down the walk.

The guardsman immediately to Meralda’s right smiled at her and winked.

Meralda grinned and blushed and nearly stumbled.

Donchen kept in perfect step with his fellows.

“Been a lot more trouble for the Vonats,” said the captain, as he ambled beside Meralda. “We had to break up a fight between them and some of the Hang five-master crew last night, in fact. Of course I couldn’t understand what was being said, but it seems some bad blood has sprung up between them. I wonder why that is?”

“I’m sure I have no idea,” said Meralda.

“No, of course not, you wouldn’t. Still. Someone sent a spell their way that filled their sheets with bed bugs and their shoes with centipedes. They lodged a formal complaint with the Accords Hospitality Commission, did you know that? Threatening to sue Tirlin.”

Meralda kept her face carefully blank. “I’m sure the king will launch a formal investigation,” she said. “Such mischief cannot be tolerated.”

The captain nodded. “Student pranks, I’m thinking.”

“Precisely.”

The Tower still loomed, dark and brooding against the clear blue sky, but the park, itself, was transformed.

The stands that Meralda had last seen as skeletons of lumber were complete, making a half-circle around the Tower that rose up and up and up, nearly as tall as the Old Oaks themselves. Fresh white paint gleamed in the sun, and atop the tallest ranks of seats a hundred pennants waved and snapped in the cool midday breeze.

The King’s Rise faced the stands, engulfed in the shadow of the Tower. Painters still worked furiously about it, hanging from ropes and racing across scaffolds as they hurried to complete the rise’s red, blue, and gold color scheme in time for the Accords.

Standing, hands on hips, at the base of the rise was King Yvin himself. Even from a distance, Meralda could make out the tapping of the royal foot and the glower of the royal face.

“I’m not late,” she said.

“Pardon?” asked the captain.

“Nothing.” Meralda forced a smile. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”