The state of affairs was worse than I had anticipated. “I need you to get a message to one of the Councilors for me.”

“Which one?”

“My kinsman, Bavol Zaltana. But I don’t want you to write anything down. It must be a verbal message. Can you do it?”

Fisk frowned, considering. “It will be difficult. The Councilors all have an escort while out in the Citadel, but perhaps I could set up a distraction…” He rubbed his hands along his arms as he contemplated the task. “I can try. No promises. If it gets too hot, I’m out of there. And it’s—”

“Going to cost me. And you must not repeat the message to anyone.”

“Agreed.”

We shook hands on the deal. I told Fisk my message. He left to recruit a couple helpers. I returned to the market to purchase a few items and to eat, killing time without appearing to be.

My gaze kept returning to the Keep’s towers. Located within the Citadel’s marble walls, the Magician’s Keep occupied the northeastern section. Unable to suppress my desire to see the pink-pillared entrance gates, my path led to the Keep.

Instead of appearing warm and inviting, the cold stone seemed impenetrable and daunting. I longed to make contact with my friends and colleagues inside. Where were Dax and Gelsi? Had they been allowed to continue their studies? I felt blind and cut off, frustrated and lost. As if I had been exiled and would never see them again.

Daviian guards stood next to the Keep’s guards. Feeling too exposed, I returned to Fisk’s meeting room to await the boy’s return. Time crept along in mind-numbing increments. A small tan spider built its elaborate web in the corner of the room. To help the spider, I hunted for an insect to place on the sticky strands.

Fisk arrived as I stood on a chair, attempting to nab a moth. He puffed out his chest and declared the mission a success. “Councilor Zaltana said he would meet with you tonight in his home.” Fisk deflated a bit with his next remark. “He warned his residence is guarded by a Warper. What’s a Warper?”

“A Daviian magician.” I considered the complication. “What time?”

“Anytime, but if you’re out on the streets after midnight, the guards will arrest you. I would suggest after the evening meal. There is usually a flurry of activity as the shops close and everyone heads home.” Fisk sighed. “It used to be a good time to beg. People would feel guilty passing by a child without a home when they had a warm comfortable bed waiting for them.”

“Used to be, Fisk. That’s in the past. I bet you have a nice home, now.”

His posture straightened. “The best! Which reminds me. You had better leave before my helpers come back. We meet in the morning and again in the late afternoon.”

I paid Fisk, thanking him for the help. “If you ever get caught, don’t hesitate to tell them about me. I don’t want you to be hurt because of me.”

Fisk gave me a confused frown. “But you could be taken and killed by the Daviians.”

“Better me than you.”

“No. Things are bad and getting worse. If you’re killed, I have a horrible feeling life wouldn’t be worth living.”

Fisk’s dire comments followed me as I traveled through the Citadel. Keeping to the back alleys, I hid behind buildings until the streets filled with residents hurrying home, just as Fisk had predicted. I joined the flow, blending in as the sky grew dark and the lamplighters began their evening chore. When I passed Bavol’s dwelling, I slowed long enough to determine his house was empty.

I made another loop around the street to make sure, then slipped behind the building. Using my picks, I unlocked the back door and startled a woman.

“Oh my!” She dropped a rake. It clattered on the edge of the stone heath, and the fire she had been stirring to life dimmed.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” I said, thinking fast. “I have an urgent appointment with Councilman Zaltana.”

“I don’t remember him telling me about a guest. And certainly no guest would come creeping in the back door!” She swept up the iron rake and hefted it in her big hands. She wore a type of loose tunic the Zaltanas preferred, but it was hard to see in the semidarkness.

I chanced it. “We just set the meeting today. It’s regarding clan business.”

“Oh my.” She bent and raked at the coals. When a flame ignited, she used it to light a lantern. She peered at me through the glow. “Goodness, child. Come in then. Shut the door. This is all highly unusual, but I don’t know why I’m surprised. These are unusual times.”

The woman bustled and fussed about the kitchen, claiming the Councilman would soon be home and would want his supper. I helped her by lighting the lanterns in the dining room and living room. Bavol’s home was decorated with jungle art and valmur statues. A pang of homesickness struck me.

When I heard someone at the front door, I hid in the kitchen.

“His guard dog doesn’t come in the house,” the woman said. “The Councilman won’t allow it. The day that dog is allowed in will be the end of the Sitian Council.”

But would the Warper use his magic to scan the interior? Would I feel the power? I hovered by the back door just in case.

The woman said, “Call me Petal, child,” and invited me to join them for supper. She shooed away any protests about my limited time. “Nonsense, child. Let me tell the Councilman you’re here.”

“Ah, Petal,” I said, stopping her. “Perhaps it would be best if you just asked him to come in here? Dogs have very acute hearing.”