“Hello, Fisk. How’s business?” I asked.

“Never better.”

“Are you sure?” I gestured around. “You’ve moved again.”

“That I did. However, we plan to stay here for quite some time. Let me give you a tour.”

The room to the right opened up into a large area crowded with bunk beds. Members of the Helper’s Guild either sat or stretched out on the mattresses. Others huddled together, playing a game of dice, and some gathered in groups, talking and laughing. They all called a hello to me and Leif.

To the left of the foyer was a classroom.

“We still have weekly meetings and are always training new recruits.” He pointed down a hallway on the other side. “There are a few more training rooms down there. Unfortunately, we had to teach everyone self-defense, and a couple of the older members are learning how to fight with swords and knives.”

“That bad?” Leif asked.

“It’s getting worse.”

“We can—”

“No, thank you. I’m handling it. Once I find their leader, there won’t be a problem.” The steel in his voice ended that discussion.

I peeked down the hallway. “I’m guessing there are classes in information gathering, as well.”

Fisk grinned. “Information can be a profitable business. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s why you’re here.”

Leif’s stomach grumbled again.

Fisk laughed. “That and for a bowl of Amberle’s beef stew.”

My brother perked up. “If you insist...”

The kitchen and dining area filled the room opposite the foyer. Long wooden tables stretched in rows to the left.

“Wow, these rooms are bigger than you think. How much space do you have?” Leif ladled out a big helping of stew.

“My guild occupies the entire ground floor of this facility.”

“Nice. Let’s hope the owner lets you stay for a while.”

“Oh, he will.”

A gleam in Fisk’s eyes gave him away.

“You own this building,” I said.

“Yup. I’m converting the three upper levels into apartments.”

“Wow, a landlord at... How old are you?” Leif asked between bites of stew.

“Seventeen.”

Leif spat out a mouthful of beef. After sputtering and coughing, he gasped, “I...need a new job. Are you...hiring?”

“Always. Yelena, are you hungry?” Fisk filled a bowl.

“No, thank you. You were right about needing information. Is there someplace private we can talk?”

“Of course.”

Carrying his dinner, Fisk led us through the classroom and down the hallway to the very end. He unlocked a door and ushered us into a large living space. The ceiling spanned two stories over half the room. It appeared a loft had been built over the other half. While a couch, armchairs and tables occupied the center, Fisk had converted the space below the loft into an office.

Fisk sat in one of the nubby red armchairs and cradled the stew in his lap. Leif flopped into the opposite chair without waiting for an invitation and I settled on the couch. A glass sculpture of two life-size hands spread out like wings with their thumbs together rested on the table between the armchairs.

“Is that one of Opal’s statues?” I asked Fisk.

“Yes. Lovely, isn’t it?”

I gazed at Fisk. Was it one of her magic detectors? The Councilors each owned one but, so far, the distribution of the detectors was limited. “Yes. It matches the design of the necklaces your members wear.”

Leif grunted in amusement. He stared at the sculpture with a crinkled brow. Inside the clear glass a spark of light flashed in response to Leif’s magic. “Handy.”

“Yes, it is. And, yes, Opal gave it to me.” Fisk smiled. “You’ve been hanging out with politicians too long, Yelena. No need to dance around a subject. I’ll tell you the truth.”

“Sorry. Some habits are hard to break.” I gestured to the detector. “Are they available on the black market?”

“No. But fakes are showing up, which means the real thing is probably not far behind.”

“Will you let me know when that happens?” Leif asked.

“Of course. Is that why you’re here?”

“No.” I traced the black-and-white diamond pattern of the couch’s fabric with my finger. How to start?

“Then how can I help?” Fisk asked.

Might as well just jump right in. “Have you heard of a drug or poison that blocks a person’s magic?”

Leif’s spoon froze halfway to his mouth, but he kept quiet. Very un-Leif-like.

“You mean something like Curare?” Fisk asked.

“Yes, but without the paralyzing effect.”

He rubbed a hand along his chin. “I haven’t heard of anything, and considering it would be an effective weapon against magicians, I doubt the criminal element could keep it quiet for long.” Fisk met my gaze. “Are you guessing about its existence or do you have evidence?”

Now who was acting like a politician? “I’m speculating.” I explained about the attack.

Leif cursed. “It’s worse than I’d thought. Are you all right?”

I gave him a flat look.

“Oh, right. Dumb question. Have you—”

Interrupting him, I filled them in on our efforts to discover the cause of my affliction. “...and we were hoping you might have information,” I said to Fisk.