Raith left his [Mnemonic Manor] feeling well rested and ready to tackle the day. The hearth in the strategy room had been relit sometime while he was gone. The fire popped and sighed, and the room smelled of ink and the faint sharp tang of whatever Nyhm had been brewing upstairs. Tolliver was scribbling into his ledger, and Zinny had acquired a length of pink ribbon and was attempting to tie it around one of the golems’ necks like it was a pet.

  The bear-shaped construct stood perfectly still while she worked, eyes glowing a patient blue. The sleeker one watched her with a violet stare that made Raith’s skin crawl in a way that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the sensation of being evaluated as edible, in spite of knowing that golems don't actually eat.

  “Mossy,” Zinny said sternly, tugging the bow into place, “you are now festive. Do not ruin this.”

  The golem did not respond. It did, however, tilt its head slightly, which Zinny took as agreement.

  Raith startled as Thea came in behind him, leaning her shield against the chair before easing herself into the seat. “Did you tell them about Hob?”

  Raith cleared his throat. He told them of the painter’s [Divine Skill: Invulnerability], and his utter lack of interest in being heroic in any conventional way. He told them about the paint in the man’s hair and under his fingernails. He told them about Hob’s wife. The room went quieter, in that way it always did when such grief was discussed. Even Zinny’s wings softened to a gentler buzz.

  Tolliver tapped the end of his quill against his teeth. “Invulnerability will be a tremendous asset.”

  “Maybe,” Nyhm said. “He can still be trapped.”

  Raith nodded, impressed at how quickly his brother had picked up on that. “Hob said as much.”

  Nyhm’s gaze stayed on him. “And you still intend to do this.”

  Raith felt the familiar pressure of an oncoming behind his eyes.

  “Yes,” he said quietly.

  “Is Hob going to be a Myth Seeker? I like him.”

  “You don’t even know him. But no, he is not joining the team. He is not moving into the house. He is not going to be our new fifth member who paints inspirational murals on our walls.”

  Zinny pouted and Raith offered a reassuring smile.

  “But he is willing to help. Along with a some others.”

  Zinny brightened at that and nodded. "A friend who will stand in front of things that would kill us is an excellent friend to have.”

  Tolliver ticked off their assets.

  “If we have Hob with perhaps a few other Templars at our side, and Embry exploring insertion options, then we have two pillars. At least one more would be ideal. preferably two.”

  Raith nodded. “And we still lack a roof.”

  Zinny gasped. “We do not lack a roof. Tolliver had the roof repaired.”

  “That is not what I meant,” Raith said, rubbing his face. He thought about trying to explain the metaphor but decided he wasn't entirely sure he followed it himself, to be honest.

  Thea pulled a folded document from her pouch and slid it onto the table. “Speaking of roofs, I was able to secure this layout of the Templar fortress.”

  Raith blinked at her. She gave a small smile and nodded down at the map. A huge wave of relief washed across Raith knowing that his dearest friend was finally all in with her support on this mission. Looking down at the map he could see that it was a far more detailed layout than what he had pieced together in his library.

  "Where in the five realms did you get this?"

  "Beckhaven is home to the Order's Archive. It would be more surprising if they didn't have that."

  He couldn't argue with that. Everyone crowded around and examined the document, peering at every nook and cranny. The keep was smaller than he had expected, but considering the Templars were the smallest faction of the Order and usually spread out to other duty stations, perhaps it shouldn't have been a surprise.

  "And they just let you walk out the door with this?" Tolliver asked. "I didn't think you were a part of the Order."

  "I've been asked to be a liaison between the Order and the Archduke."

  The [Mage] arched an eyebrow.

  "Liaison?"

  “Temporarily,” she replied. “Until the High Emissary situation is resolved. Which is a polite way of saying until Venton is removed or captured.”

  Tolliver made a thoughtful noise. “That is…not an enviable position.”

  “It will be fine,” Thea lied.

  “It might not be fine,” Zinny offered helpfully, eliciting a snort of laughter from Tolliver.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Thea glared at him. “Thank you for your support.”

  "Can I borrow this? I'm going to need to show it to Embry."

  Thea shrugged.

  "Sure, just make sure I get it back."

  Raith spent a moment fumbling around with the map, trying to refold it along the same creases it had been folded into previously. Everyone watched him make several unsuccessful attempts before finally getting it right. Thea was the only one who didn't look amused.

  "And I'll need it back in one piece."

  Tolliver sat back and steepled his fingers.

  “It would be useful if we could ascertain the disposition of the forces within. Who Venton keeps near him. And most importantly, where in that fortress we can place a mirror without it being discovered. This is precisely the sort of thing for which we could have used that scrying globe you just traded away.”

  Thea raised a palm.

  “It wouldn't have worked anyway. The Templar fortress is warded against scrying.”

  Raith nodded his thanks, but frowned again as Nyhm set down his tea and spoke.

  “There is one person in Beckhaven who hoards information like a dragon.”

  Tolliver swallowed hard. “My father.”

  The [Mage] sat quietly for a long moment before taking a deep sigh and firming his resolve. He stood briskly.

  “If we are going to see the Spymaster, I should change into something that does not suggest I live in a construction site.”

  Zinny looked down at herself. “I am perfect already.”

  ***

  Thea took the lead, guiding them down a hall lined with carved stone reliefs of historical events that Raith suspected were only half true. They reached a wide door where two guards stood, armored and bored.

  Thea’s posture changed. It became crisp and official.

  One guard recognized her and straightened. “Lady Thea.”

  She made a face at the title but did not correct him. “I need to speak with the Spymaster.”

  The guard hesitated, gaze flicking first to Tolliver, then Raith, then to Nyhm, and finally lingered on Zinny, who was hovering upside down again because she enjoyed making people uncomfortable.

  “Do you have an appointment?” the guard asked, clearly addressing Thea and pretending Zinny did not exist.

  “No, but this is urgent.”

  The guard looked like he wanted to ask how urgent something could be if it involved a pixie who was acting like that, but he was trained, and he was not stupid. He knocked the door and a sharp voice replied.

  “What?”

  Tolliver flinched at the sound, and Raith felt a moment of pity for his friend but knew better than to comment. The guard stepped inside and spoke too softly for Raith to hear, before stepping back out and motioning for the team to enter.

  Inside, the Spymaster’s office was exactly what Raith expected.

  Bookshelves rose to the ceiling. Scroll racks neatly packed the corners. Papers covered every surface in a disciplined chaos that suggested someone brilliant and exhausted. A large wooden table in the center was covered in maps and notes, some marked with different colored pins. Behind the fine desk sat the Spymaster. He looked more tired than the last time they’d met. His gaze lifted, sharp, and he nodded to Thea without so much as glancing at his son.

  “What can I do for you, Emissary.”

  “We require information relating to the Templar fortress,” Thea replied.

  The Spymaster’s mouth twitched. “Yes. I have heard.”

  Raith felt his skin prickle. It shouldn’t be surprising that the man had heard, but this wasn’t exactly the type of mission they wanted to become common knowledge.

  Thea nodded to Raith. He swallowed.

  “We are planning to remove Venton."

  The Spymaster did not blink. Nyhm shifted slightly, unhappy. Tolliver’s expression stayed composed. Thea’s jaw tightened.

  "Although I can see why such a rewarding [Quest] might be attractive to the young and foolish, this task is far beyond your abilities."

  Raith grimaced at the insult but managed to keep his voice calm.

  "We were not even aware it was an open [Quest]."

  Galathorn’s gaze moved to Thea, again pointedly ignoring his son. “And you support this.”

  Thea’s mouth flattened. “I understand why it is necessary.”

  The Spymaster looked back at Raith. “You believe you can succeed.”

  Raith hesitated. “I believe I have to try.”

  That, at least, was true.

  Galathorn leaned back slowly.

  “When the High Emissary split the Order, many who joined him were already sympathetic to his goals…and some were not.”

  Raith’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  The Spymaster’s gaze sharpened. “Charm magic.”

  Thea’s posture stiffened. “That is illegal.”

  “Extremely,” Galathorn replied, tone dry. “In our joint investigation with the Order, we have found evidence of binding influence spells. Not in every case. Many chose Venton willingly, of course, but he did not rely only on persuasion.”

  Nyhm’s voice was quiet.

  “Who did he target?”

  Galathorn tapped a parchment on his table, then slid it toward them. Names. Ranks. Notes.

  “Those with authority. Those who could convince others,” he said. “Those whose fall would damage morale.”

  Raith stared at the list again. “How many are still affected by the spells?”

  The Soymaster’s gaze turned grim.

  “Unknown. Influence spells fray over time.Venton cannot maintain them indefinitely. Indeed, I have word that several are already planning defection.”

  Raith felt his pulse pick up.

  "Do you have names? Can we contact them?"

  The Spymaster studied him for a long moment.

  “No,” he said.

  Raith’s stomach dropped. “Why?”

  “Because this is not your private duel. It will be war. Even if you fail, there will be retaliation. I have been counseled by both the Archduke to prepare. Gather allies. Cut off his supply lines. Let the King coordinate a strike when the time is right.”

  Raith felt the frustration surge, hot and bitter.

  “How many people will die while they wait for the right time,” Raith asked.

  Silence stretched. Raith entered his [Library] to pace and think of the best way to approach this. Without the intelligence this man could provide, their mission would be far, far more difficult. An idea struck him like a bolt of lightning. He ended his [Skill] and pulled the smooth wooden ring off his finger, holding it out on his palm towards Galathorn. The Spymaster's eyes lit with greed at the sight.

  “Would you consider a trade?”

  Raith wasn't sure how the Hollow Earl would react to him trading away the item, nor what the sluagh would do if Galathorn ever tried to use it. Probably not well, but that was a problem for another day.

  Galathorn’s gaze moved to Zinny.

  Zinny smiled sweetly and batted her eyes.

  The Spymaster’s gaze moved back to Raith.

  “You have strange allies.”

  “I do,” Raith admitted.

  The Spymaster drummed his fingers once on the table.

  “I will have a packet prepared and delivered to you by day's end,” he said finally. “As well as a speaking stone for a contact within the fortress.”

  Raith went still. That was exactly what they needed. Galathorn held out his hand, and Raith placed the ring into it. The Spymaster's eyes glittered as he placed it on his finger before looking back up.

  "I believe that concludes our business then. I have other matters to attend."

  They stepped back into the corridor, the door closing behind them with a soft thud. Tolliver exhaled like he had been holding his breath the entire meeting.

  “That went better than expected.”

  Raith put a hand on the [Mage]'s shoulder and gave a nod of understanding. He breathed a sigh of relief himself, which was quickly replaced by a wave of fear. The puzzle pieces were rapidly coming together, and he realized that all too soon he would be leading his team straight into the mouth of the beast.