Stevic reckoned himself open-minded, but this girl was no older than his Karigan. It was rumored the Golden Guardian was well into his sixties, and though it was not unusual for older men to wed younger women prime to bear children, this age discrepancy was criminal.

He stalked over to a dusty window that overlooked the campus. A bell chimed four times, resonating through the floorboards, as if it must be very close. Students poured out of buildings and onto the square below, changing classes. Karigan should be among them, but she wasn’t. Where was she? On the road home, he hoped. A pigeon perched on the windowsill.

“Some governor Fiori is if he isn’t here to watch over his interests.”

“Pardon?” the girl asked. “I don’t hear well. It’s best if you face me.”

Stevic turned in surprise. This wasn’t Fiori’s wife at all, but his daughter! He reddened in embarrassment. “You’re Karigan’s friend, aren’t you? Young Estral?” Karigan had spoken of Estral, saying that she was deaf in one ear from an accident, but still a fabulous musician.

The girl nodded with a smile. “And you’re her father.” Then her face grew serious. “You haven’t seen Karigan, have you?”

“No. I expected to find her here. Either a message she had run away didn’t reach me before I left Corsa, or the dean didn’t bother to send me one.” The anger began to build within him again, like a fire scorching his belly. “I hold Dean Geyer responsible for this. If anything has happened to Karigan—”

“It’s terrible.” Estral’s shoulders sagged and she rested her chin on her hands. “I wish . . . I wish she’d come back. I miss her. It hasn’t been the same here without her. I’ve no one to talk to, and the other students pester me worse than usual. She used to sort of protect me. I don’t know why she ran away. Did you know her grades were improving, and that Arms Master Rendle had taken her on as a student just before she was suspended?”

“Your story differs from the dean’s,” Stevic said. “You say Karigan left no clue as to where she went?”

“No. And I wouldn’t blame the dean too much. He’s a little out of touch, and perhaps too much at the sway of the trustees. After all, it was an aristocrat Karigan fought.”

“An aristocrat?”

“Lord-Governor Mirwell’s heir. He was humiliated after she beat him at swordplay.”

“Never heard of anything good coming out of Mirwell.” Stevic’s caravans rarely traveled there. The common folk were, on the most part, too poor to purchase his goods, and the wealthy were more interested in arms, which he didn’t sell.

Estral continued, “It created a sensation all over town.”

Stevic grinned mirthlessly. “Sounds like something she would do.”

Estral shook her head. “She never knew it, but she had more friends than she ever realized because she stood up to bullies like Timas. A lot of the students here are not of noble blood or wealth, but are full of talent. Father makes a point of searching for such children and bringing them to Selium. They are often at the mercy of those such as Timas.”

“And instead of playing along, she stood against the ruffians.” Stevic rubbed his chin. “Yes, that is like her.”

The office door creaked open. Stevic started in surprise as the Green Rider he had seen earlier with the undertaker walked in. She still clutched the arrows, black-shafted, he saw, her brow furrowed with anger.

“I wish to see Guardian Fiori,” she said. The corners of her eyes were creased from too many years in the sun, and her cheeks were sprinkled with faded freckles. Her hair, which had looked so intense outside, now appeared a burnished auburn with a streak of gray sweeping from her temple. Hazel eyes sparkled alertly, no doubt taking in every detail of the Golden Guardian’s disheveled office. Her nose was disjointed as if it had been broken once, and a badly healed scar ran raggedly down her chin and neck in a brown line until it disappeared beneath her collar.

“I’m sorry, but he’s away,” Estral said.

The lines across the Rider’s brow deepened. “You are being honest with me? I can sense falsehoods if I so choose.” She fingered a brooch on her shortcoat. Stevic hadn’t noticed it before, and even now couldn’t seem to make out its shape or design.

“I’ve no reason to lie to you,” Estral said. “My father is traveling.”

“Your father! You’re not one of those idiot clerks—please forgive me.” Her voice was chagrined, and it was difficult to imagine her as the same woman who had shaken the undertaker by his lapels. Stevic wondered if she had given the clerk Matterly similar treatment. “I was hoping he could help me identify this talisman.” She held the arrows aloft. The steel-barbed tips were encrusted with dry blood. “There are words carved on them in a language I can’t quite make out, but I have my own thoughts. They’ve the feel of magic. Very old magic.”

Estral gazed at them with some interest but didn’t ask to hold them. “I’m sorry Father isn’t here. Maybe Master Galwin could help. He’s a historian and the school curator. He studies the lore of old magic. Where did you find them?”

“In the back of one of my finest Riders.” She sighed. “We believe he was bringing us a message of some significance.” Then, as an afterthought, she introduced herself. “I am Laren Mapstone, captain of His Majesty’s Messenger Service. Your father has been very helpful to me in the past. That is, dealing with objects of antiquity and magic.”