Because of what Fran and Maggie had told her, Mei had expected that the Rosetti boathouse parties would be like Dwayne’s demonstration on Bradbridge, an extravagant display of magical ability and fervor. Instead it was pure debauchery. Wearing outfits ranging from bad imitations of Imperial long tunics to flimsy Vanurian half robes, Academy students in animal heads, feathered masks and face paint shouted and danced and sung around burning bonfires. Their festivities were hemmed in with thick white ropes tied to trees that formed a perimeter was guarded by people in heavy dark robes and plain white masks, older students who, according to Fran, had “drawn the short straw.”

  “Why this?” Mei had asked back in the dormitory. Fran had forced her into a sky blue tunic then wrapped her in rich, soft sunset yellow cloth, neither of which were as ridiculous as the scratchy gray beard Fran had tied onto Mei’s face. There was barely any room to hide a blazebug jar.

  “Remember the theme?” Fran had adjusted her hat, the tallest one Mei had ever seen, before inspecting her dark nut brown doublet and breeches. “‘What one would never wear?’”

  “Our Northern classmates are going to kill you.” Maggie had emerged from her closet, her red hair tied back into a bun, her suit black and midnight blue. “Remind me: why do you have two sets of suits?”

  Fran had struck a pose in her mirror. “I once dated an Odist.”

  “That girl from Suttner’s?”

  “Yes. We bonded over fabrics.”

  To be honest, seeing all the party in person almost made what Mei was wearing make sense.

  In the present, Fran nodded. “Okay.” She took her friends’s hands. “Follow my lead.”

  When they reached the perimeter, the student on guard scoffed at Fran’s outfit. “Really?”

  “Oh?” Fran bowed, nearly hitting him with her hat. “You have objections to my outfit, my good sir?”

  Even under the mask, Mei could see the glare. “We do not talk like that.”

  “Then by the grace of Cueller,” Fran straightened up, the back of her hand on her forehead, “I have made a grievous error. Whatever shall I do?”

  “Just go.”

  “Thank you, good sir.” Fran pulled Mei and Maggie in before the older student realized what he’d done.

  “That was easy,” said Maggie, once they were out of earshot.

  “I made this outfit to draw attention.” Fran pulled them close. “Now, Mei - just Mei, Mag - look over my right shoulder.”

  Mei looked. At twenty wir tall, the Rosetti boathouse loomed over the party. There were four ways in: two small doors, one big cargo door, and a set of windows high above all three. Those were too high for her to climb up to, the cargo door looked barred, and the two smaller doors, aside from probably being locked, had two guards apiece. Mei had no idea how she were going to get in.

  “Got a good look? Good.” Fran pulled Mei back into the huddle. “Mag, what’s the plan?”

  “Mei approaches from the south while we count to one hundred,” said Maggie. “Then we distract the guards and Mei goes in.”

  That sounded simple but, “How will you distract them?” Mei asked.

  Maggie looked away. “We, uh, flirt. With them.”

  Fran’s eyes widened. “You? Flirt?”

  “I can flirt!”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Okay.” Mei tried to hold in a grin. “What if the door’s locked?”

  Maggie shrugged. “We’ll figure that out if that happens. Ready?”

  “Wait, hold these.” Mei handed the yellow cloth and the beard to Fran then ensured the blazebug jar was still tucked in her robe. “Ready.”

  “Okay, go,” said Maggie. “One, two…”

  Slipping into the revelry, Mei passed kithar circles, slid around dancers, pushed through the student clustered around the giant beer kegs. Soon she’d reached the far southern edge of the party and had slipped under the white rope perimeter and into the woods. Going low, she hustled through the undergrowth, using the noise from the party to cover her passage through the rustling leaves. Once she was just a couple of wir from the target, more than close enough to see the guards’ clubs, to count the keys hanging from one of their belts, she crouched in a bush and waited.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Somehow, she’d need to avoid the clubs and take the keys while armed with a jar of bug juice. It wasn’t looking good.

  “So, uh, hi.” Maggie waved as she approached the guards. “You, uh, enjoying tonight?”

  “Ma’am,” The keyless guard put up a hand, “I’m going to need you to step back.”

  “Why?” Maggie shoved out her lower lip. “Am I too distracting you from your job?”

  Mei winced. Maggie flirted like a blind bee hunting pollen.

  “Ma’am,” Keyless was not amused, “please step back.”

  “Please, excuse my friend.” Fran appeared at Maggie’s side. She’d ditched the hat, let down her hair, and wrapped Mei’s yellow cloth around her like sash. “She’s had a little too much to drink.”

  Maggie protested, “No, I-” There was a furtive stomp. “I…well, it is a night for, uh, drinking, ha ha.”

  “Regardless,” The guard with the keys used their bulk to push Maggie and Fran back, “we need you to step back.”

  “Okay, okay,” Fran took a half-step back, “but I do wonder what two strapping young soldiers did to pull mage-sitting duty?”

  “Why?” Keyless scoffed. “You want to switch places?”

  Maggie brightened. “I’d love to switch places! I’ve never done guard duty before or worn proper armor. “That’s Mattison’s work, right?” She poked at Keys’s armor. “Is it warm enough for a night like this?”

  Keys blinked. “It’s not bad. Helmschmied’s better.”

  Maggie made a face. “Don’t even joke like that. Helmschmied is a fraud, who only imitates, bad might I add, real armorer’s work.”

  Keys bristled. “Hey, you-”

  “Sorry, sorry.” Fran tried to pull Maggie back. “She’s just a, uh, big fan of Mattison, you know.”

  Keys’s rolled their eyes. “No one sane is a fan of Mattison. Everything she’s made is shoddy, overpriced and overlauded.”

  Keyless put a hand on Keys’s shoulder. “Hey, um, cool it Brooks?”

  “Oh, and Helmschmied isn’t?” Maggie’s hand came down as she stamped her foot. “Helmschmied, who thinks its tasteful to engrave cherubs on his pauldrons?”

  “I like the cherubs!”

  “Mag,” Fran tried to pull Maggie away, “what are you doing?”

  What she did best thought Mei as she slid forward. Maggie’s arguing, which she was far better at than flirting, had moved both guards away from the door, and where Maggie had stamped her foot, there was a little glint of metal. Just a few quick steps and Mei had the keys in hand, unlocking the door. After dropping them, she slipped into Rosetti boathouse, closing the door gently behind her.

  Pulling the blazebug jar out, Mei shook it, and sickly blue light poured forth, revealing three ten-wir long boats, an array of unrecognizables hanging on the walls, and, off to the side of the cargo door, a large desk. Mei went over to it immediately, rummaging through its drawers until she found a stack of books. The first, she determined after arduous effort, was a maintenance log for the boats. Useless. The second was a collection of lists of cargo, starting more than a week ago. Also useless too. The third, a “Boat Check Out” book, looked more promising.

  “What,” growled a familiar voice, “are you doing here?”

  Mei looked up from her reading. “Looking for you.”

  Armed with sword and knives, his tattered scarf hanging from his neck, Huan stood between her and the exit. The fact that Mei had been right that he gone back to the warehouse tenement for his things failed to make up for the untimeliness of running into her brother here.

  Huan narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

  “I want you safe.” Mei wasn’t armed, unless one counted the blazebugs and she didn’t. “Come with me.”

  “You think I’ll be safe with you?”

  “We’re safer together.”

  “You’re right.” Huan held out his hand. “That’s why you should come with me.”

  Mei didn’t bother to say no, only closed the book. “Why are you here? Did they not pay you?”

  “They’re paying more than Dwayne ever did.” Huan’s hand was still outstretched. “Come with me, Mei. We’ll be free and rich.”

  His black hair was poky and greasy, his eyes were bloodshot, and even wirs away, Mei could smell that wasn’t spending the money on baths. “I want to help you but-”

  Huan’s face twisted. “Help me? Then why-!” His mouth slammed shut. Then he dropped his hand. “I see. Then tell me. How did you find me here?”

  Mei shrugged. “Chance.”

  “Liar!” A red-handled knife blade appeared in Huan’s hand, ready to be thrown. “You’ve been tracking me. I saw you at the bridge.”

  He meant last week, not last night. “I was looking for you.” Mei stayed very still. She didn’t want to spook him more. “Because I want you safe.”

  “You want me trapped. Give me that.” Huan snatched the book out of Mei’s hands and skimmed it. “I knew it. You’re searching for the… baron.”

  “The baron?” Mei’s breath caught. This was the first clue to who was paying Huan. “Baron Thadden?”

  “You mean you…” Huan’s eyes widened. “You tricked me! You won’t get away with this.” He threw the knife up through the nearest window.

  “No!” Mei rushed forward, but her hands closed on empty air.

  “What was that?” The nearest door rattled.

  No time for despair. Mei was not in a position. Maybe she could hide under boats. Maybe they wouldn’t-

  The door she came in by burst open, and Mei dove behind the desk. Wait, the blazebug jar. She had to-

  There were two thumps and then footsteps, just one person’s, came towards her. Good. One good punch and Mei could escape. She got her feet under her.

  “Mei?” Maggie’s face appeared over the desk. “Are you okay?”

  Mei let out a breath. “Yes. Where’s Fran?”

  “Distracting the rest of the guards. Come on.”

  Mei followed Maggie out of the building, stepping over the dozing bodies of the two guards.

  Maggie saw the question on Mei’s face. “I panicked.”

  “I see.”

  After retracing Mei’s path through the woods, they stopped next to a bonfire, the revelry prancing and shouting around him.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Maggie asked.

  Mei shook her head. “Huan took it.”

  “What? How? Wait.” Maggie raised her hand. “Tell me back at the dorm. Let’s get Fran out first.” She pulled a vial out of her jacket pocket.

  “What’s that?”

  “Our signal.”

  Maggie threw the vial into the bonfire and filled the air with green and purple lights.