The prescribed time had passed. Dalliance, now seated at the table in Effluvia’s kitchen, was being watched with evident suspicion by two shapeless, bonneted members of the waitstaff. He stared at a plate of scones as Effluvia finished dashing off the letter that she had not, apparently, intended to wait even a second on before sending off with the runner.

  Dalliance wasn’t really sure what to make of that, but at least he'd taken the opportunity given and was taking her up on the gift of spells. Despite the conversation having taken a little turn for the weirder, Dalliance was able to get her to opine about a few other spells.

  The Garrote, she explained, was just a variant of a shield that could be shaped, except that, unlike a shield, it could also be moved once created.

  "Is it a more raw construct than a shield," she'd told him.

  For all of that, the subtleties eluded him between the two.

  "Don’t worry," she assured him. "The one I was going to give you, the Steelwind Aegis, isn’t much less excellent than that. Except it’s not the personal signature spell of my aunt. So that would be why I can’t give you the Garrote. It would be rather obvious: You’re out in the middle of the field, point at your enemy, and he rises from his feet to hover in the air, choking and clawing at his throat—"

  Dalliance looked at her with some surprise.

  "My aunt is a scary woman," she said, not a little proudly. "And an accomplished duelist."

  In the end, Dalliance took the Steelwind Aegis, which, though it would last for only ten seconds or so, could withstand 'mighty blows'. How mighty was unspecified in any notation he understood.

  The Spark Jump Arrow. And Slumbering Breath, (just a sleep spell, she explained) rounded out a respectable haul.

  Experimentation with the Steelwind Aegis revealed that it also was an air spell, and one which he was able to cast after only the second try.

  "Air is like many other things," she said. "That it can freeze to ice. This, I believe, is the motive principle behind the Steelwind Aegis: In any case, it produces a thin, crystalline sheet that does not require any water mana."

  Effluvia ate another scone with blueberry jam. It was an intense, sticky, and almost unnatural shade of blue. Dalliance wasn't entirely certain that he liked the flavor: saccharine sweet.

  "Anyway," she said, "it’s not everything you've heard of in any song or story, but I hope it’s better than going out alone, afraid of what will happen tomorrow."

  He nodded happily. "It’s loads better than the learner spells I had: [Breath of Fog], [Attune Air], that kind of thing," he said gratefully.

  She shuddered. "I had managed to forget that you had that one, too," she said. "What a ghastly joke."

  He stared at her in incomprehension.

  "Never mind. You’re a better person than I knew, Dalliance."

  A maid cleared her throat from the other side of the kitchen, where she was poking another shovelful of coal into the embers of the fire, though it was late enough in the day that Dalliance didn’t see a reason to spend the fuel. Then it occurred to him: noble's daughter. She was warming the room because Effluvia was in the room. So wasteful. It’s not even chilly.

  "You’re very kind," Dalliance said, conscious of the gift he had just received, and of the odd looks he had received from Effluvia, not only in the archive but also as she'd looked up from writing her first letter, which had then led to her starting a second one and requesting the name of his cousin.

  And why?

  One bridge at a time, he decided firmly. He'd worry about her oddities after getting through tomorrow.

  The office walls were built adjoining the Citadel’s, a later addition, bulky and rougher-cut, freestanding a few feet away with a narrow alley in the back. Dalliance watched a gray cat vanish into the shadows as they approached.

  Dalliance was shuffled inside through no motive force of his own, his shoes scuffing on the threshold, leaving small notes of black from his fastidious morning preparations on the little wooden weather stripping bounding the edge of the wooden floor within.

  A heavy desk dominated the room. The heavy-set form of his uncle, helmet off, bristled crest standing out like a broom—garish in red, ludicrous as always to Dalliance's eye—sat heavily near the edge of his desk. The helmet left grooves and scars from all the other times he'd set it down. Papers were strewn across the desk in front of him. There was a chalk diagram on the floor.

  Dalliance was unsurprised when heavy hands behind him pushed him inside. He'd seen this coming—a trap he'd had to walk into anyway.

  His uncle didn't speak at first. The tea kettle on the small cast-iron stove, blackened with scale, was just emitting its plume and whistling, and so Dalliance stood in silence as his uncle scooped two large spoonfuls of leaves into the tin strainer and dipped it, on the end of its fine chain, into his teacup with an incongruous delicacy for such meaty hands.

  And then sad hazel eyes looked up at him, and his uncle spoke.

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  "Did you take the corpse?" Uncle Solidarity demanded.

  Dalliance felt the unpleasant tingle of a Zone of Truth.

  "I can see you're using skills. Drop them." His voice was clipped, the Captain talking, not his Uncle.

  Dalliance already knew the shape of what was coming. He deactivated the skill and met his uncle's eyes.

  "No. I didn't take the body."

  "Where is it?"

  "Zone of Truth me properly if you want," Dalliance challenged. "I did not take the body."

  "He just did," said a new voice.

  Dalliance's head snapped around. The battle mage stepped out from behind the door—one of the unpredictable goblin-hunters whose very presence made Prediction useless. Damn. That could have gone badly if he'd said the wrong thing.

  The mage's proximity gave him an immediate headache. Or maybe that was the truth spell.

  "Well?" his uncle demanded.

  "Didn't take it," the mage confirmed. He gave Dalliance a disgusted look. "Real shitty thing to do, though, spitting on a legacy like his da tried to leave him. Little shit."

  The mage left. Dalliance tried not to wince at the lingering headache.

  Uncle Solidarity sighed deeply, the Captain mask seemingly cracking. "So you didn't take it. Hadn’t thought so, though the court won't admit your zone results—Grover's not an inquisitor, not fit to state the zone's readiness, and so on." He paused, studying Dalliance's face. "Suppose I won't be drumming you off the wall and into a cell, though. Glad for it, even if you went behind my back."

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that to express your displeasure and take the biggest swing you could at your Da, you posted a letter showing Cadence was a cuckhold, and that you weren’t probably even his son. I think you went around and agitated a bunch of folks, and could have followed other avenues, but you’re a kid and didn’t know better.”

  Dalliance stood stock still, shocked at how accurate the read was.

  "What gets me?" Solidarity's voice was quieter now, almost pleading. "Why didn't you just come to me?"

  "Because Da was too focused on protecting the family reputation," Dalliance said. The words came out harder than he'd intended. "I needed him to worry about his own reputation for a while. To stop using his influence to get me killed on the front lines."

  They stood in silence for what seemed like a long time.

  His uncle was silent for a long moment. "The motive is understandable," he said slowly. Then his expression hardened. "Still stupid, though. You're a kid, and you think you're more than you are."

  He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice had gone flat. "And for that—for your failure of imagination—my brother had to die."

  "I could have died," Dalliance said quietly.

  "Your father was pulling favors to get you on the front, which is not acceptable for a greenhorn wet-behind-the-ears thirteen-year-old, no matter what his name is," Solidarity admitted. "Damn fool." There was anger in his voice now, but not directed at Dalliance. "Raised a boy who feels so untethered he flails for any scrap of influence the moment he's scared, no matter how degrading. I could slap him for it, if he weren't already dead, and that from his own foolish pride,"

  Dalliance stood stiff, not sure how safe it was to comment, or even what he’d want to say.

  Solidarity continued. "It's not like he's the first hot-headed man in our family, or the last." He gave a hollow, sad smirk. "Could've called off the fight, could've stopped mid-duel when offered the opportunity."

  He shook his head. "But I wish you’d trusted me. I've been your Uncle since you were in diapers, and no stupid letter’s going to change that. Hells, I helped with some of them. Should have known I wouldn't let you get killed over a point of pride.”

  He shook his head. "It’ll be hard to put you on the front lines if I have you fetching and carrying for the provisioner, and that's what you’re gonna do from now on. Citadel duty. Scut work. Dead safe. The Legion has kept the forest at bay for a hundred years through logistics, boy. There's always work to do, and an aeromancer is perfect for it. Run things hither and thither. You won't level up fast, but you'll be alive."

  He squatted down, looking Dalliance in the eye. The gesture made him look older, more tired.

  "None of this had to happen. Shit-stirrers get in the shit, and it sticks to them. I'm sure you feel guilty enough to be going on with, but this was the wrong way."

  Dalliance shifted his weight slightly, trying not to favor his left foot. The ring on his toe pressed uncomfortably against the inside of his sock, and he hoped his uncle wouldn't notice the awkward stance.

  His voice softened, the anger draining away into something rawer."I would rather not reward it, but I understand why you were afraid, and I should have protected you, too."

  Dalliance nodded, thinking he was dismissed, but his uncle hadn't moved from behind the desk.

  "I don't suppose," his uncle said, staring at him from over the top of his desk, now leaned back in the posture of supreme weariness,"you'd care to explain these." One huge, scarred knuckle prodded forward a small stack of letters.

  "Five letters. Five."

  It was an absurd amount, Dalliance knew.

  "From no lesser persons than House Troubles and House Early . . . from a bard I knew once . . . even from my own estranged daughter, Efflorence. Even your old schoolmaster, Judiciary Best. All of you protesting the unusual posting of one Dalliance Testimony to the front lines during my day off."

  He paused, and his voice took on a harder edge. "None of this, you understand, came straight to me. You've gone above my head, you think. But on the wall, there is no 'above' the duty captain's head for that duty shift. This was poorly done. Hasn’t made you any friends, and it’s closing the barn door after the horse besides."

  He closed his eyes and shook his massive head slowly.

  "The overreach does justify the ultimate posting, I suppose.Scut work. As a gopher, you would have spent time on the towers. You would have been given additional time to gain experience."

  Dalliance nodded.

  "Not so much now," he said, nearly spitting it. "My nephew shall be among the last to Tier up of this year's crop. All so he's kept out of harm's way entirely. This is a punishment detail, or that’s how they’ll all see it. Just warning you."

  He said it with distaste. Dalliance felt his ears growing warmer with embarrassment, though he wasn’t sure why it should matter whether he was being endangered unnecessarily, why he should feel like safety was contemptible.

  "I hate nepotism. I hope you're satisfied with this, Dalliance, because this is the extent to which you can be afforded any favors. This isn't fun and games camp; it's a war. People do things they would rather not do. And you kicked off such a fuss instead of trusting anyone."

  "Report to the quartermaster," Solidarity said, standing. "And Dalliance? I expect you to think about what I said.”

  Dalliance left with a lot to consider, and a lot of scutwork ahead of him.