Send response by 17.

   I slumped back against the wall and yawned. The three of us sat on the floor, all worn out after the long hours. Well, Grant didn’t seem worn out. He burned with restless energy and leaned forward to study the translation sitting between us.

   “An autumn attack,” he mused. “If they can act that soon, then they’ve got more in place than we realized. Or at least, they think they will by then. It sounds like they’re scrambling. Autumn’s a smart time. The land is still passable, but sea travel will shut down and limit Osfridian help. Discovering that part of the plan is huge. Osfrid can start sending backup now. I’d love to get my hands on whatever thirty-four’s schedule is—we need to figure out who those seekers are. And I’ll bet you anything that ‘bay land’ is Denham, which would probably mean ‘gold land’ is Hadisen. Whoever this was meant for is sending money—”

   “Iyitsi, enough.” Aiana rubbed at her eyes. “You’ve got your translation. Stay up all night with it if you want, but we need to get back to Wisteria Hollow.”

   “Wait just a little longer.” Grant’s eyes stayed fixed on the letter. “This needs to go to Silas right now. It’s already two weeks old. Come with me in case he has any questions, then you can leave.”

   Aiana nudged me. “Can you hang in there a little longer, Banle?”

   I answered with a nod and a yawn, and Grant finally glanced up. “Banle? Really?”

   “No worse than Sekem,” she shot back. “But maybe not a good match anymore. The fledgling’s already left the nest, apparently.”

   Grant pointedly looked back down at the letter.

   Silas took a long time to answer the door, and I understood why when I saw him. Exhaustion had etched new lines in his face, and his glazed eyes didn’t seem to recognize us at first. He’d been traveling all day, and even the water route between here and Hadisen was taxing. But after a few blinks, his gaze grew sharper, and the familiar shrewdness appeared.

   “It can’t be good if all three of you are here in the middle of the night,” he grumbled.

   “It is good, actually.” Grant strolled in without invitation and beckoned for Aiana and me to follow. He laid the papers out on the desk and explained about our breakthrough. Silas was fully awake now and rewarded me with one of those raised-eyebrow glances when he heard about my role.

   “We need these,” he said, tapping the blanks. “That schedule could change everything. And I’d like to know where that green mountain is.”

   Aiana leaned closer. “I think we got entwa wrong. It’s entwa. Bend, not mountain.” As usual, the two Balanquan pronunciations sounded identical to my ear.

   Grant scrutinized the words and nodded. “You’re right. It’s a city. Green Bend.”

   “Up in Alma,” said Silas. “We’ve had our eye on someone there for a while, and he may be the one inventorying all the supplies as they come in. I’ve got a man there right now I can get to check on it.”

   I was studying the line about the schedule that both Silas and Grant found so critical. 34 is creating final schedule and will send out with _____ seekers on healing night.

   The words Aiana and Grant had brainstormed to the corresponding Lorandian sounds were written by the blank: disbelief, serpent, hazy, and wet. I went through them as I had before, placing them in context.

   “What’s the Balanquan word for ‘heretic’?” I asked.

   “There isn’t one,” said Grant.

   “We don’t even have the concept,” added Aiana. “No one should dictate another person’s worship.”

   “Then, for this code, they’d have to substitute something—like the way they use ‘bay land’ for Denham.” My certainty grew. “Could ‘disbelief seekers’ be a way to say ‘heretic patrol’ then? Heretic hunters? You said you ride all over.”

   “Yes,” said Grant. I could almost see his thoughts spinning faster and faster as he stared at the words. “And we sometimes deliver messages. There were a few people the patrol checked in with regularly when we made our rounds—people I suspected were more than citizens concerned with corrupt religions. If I had anything else to go on, where this person was, when the patrol will be there . . .”

   “Assuming they haven’t already come and gone,” muttered Silas. “You better pray all your work wasn’t wasted.”

   “Pray.” I tried to remember the date. My days were running together lately. “Tomorrow night. It’s Ramiel’s Day. That’s the healing night they’re talking about.”

   Grant frowned. “I thought Ramiel was the angel of peace and mercy.”

   “Healing’s rolled into that. She’s the patron of doctors too.” Silas swung around so he could meet Grant face to face. “Tell me you know where the patrol’s going to be then. Tell me.”

   “Bakerston.” Grant clenched and unclenched one of his fists, as though he was already grasping the case’s conclusion. “I’m not on duty, but I know who the patrol’s contact is up there. I know who thirty-four has to be.”

   Silas let out a grateful sigh having a burden lifted and then immediately straightened up. “Then you’d better make damn sure you see that message before they carry it off.”

   “I’ll go now,” said Grant.

   “Morning,” corrected Silas. “Get a few hours of sleep. I want you sharp. You’ll need to search his house for anything else. Might be better to wait until after you copy that mystery schedule. Lay low until everyone’s asleep.”

   “I know, I know. I can handle this.”

   “Don’t get overconfident. You may be younger and a little faster, but I’ve done this longer. Be smart. Don’t be impulsive. If you lose your cover, you lose the rest.”