Time to check the merchandise. Peering into one of the opened crates, Janco saw bolts of Sitian silk. Another crate held small burlap bags filled with coffee beans. The boxes on the table, however, held a dozen Greenblade cigars. Made from dried honey-tree sap, kellpi weeds and crushed abacca leaves all grown in the Greenblade forest, the cigars caused quite a buzz and seemed to be very addictive. The Commander had banned them as soon as it became obvious they weren’t your ordinary cigar.

Janco searched the other open crates, but he couldn’t find any more cigars. Perhaps there were more in one of the unopened crates. He stared at a stack and again absently scratched at the place where the bottom half of his right ear used to be. Why fill a crate and risk it being opened and discovered by the border guards? Unless...

He returned to the one with bags of coffee and dug down until he reached the bottom. Nothing. Unless...

Measuring with his arm, he estimated how deep it was inside the crate. Then he straightened and compared it to the height of the box. Bingo! False bottom. Small enough to miss and big enough to fit those boxes of Avibian cigars. Janco suppressed the desire to dance a jig. He’d wait until he hooked up with Ari at the Black Cat.

A metallic snap cut through Janco’s elation. Oh no. He dived behind a stack of crates as the back door opened. Strident voices quarreled. Janco counted. Two, three, four, five in all. Maybe they’d be so engrossed in their argument they wouldn’t notice him sneaking out. Or maybe they’d all go up to the office and shut the door. And maybe Valek’d assign him to spend a season tanning on the beach. That would be just as likely as the other two.

Janco slid into a more comfortable position. He might be here awhile.

“...it doesn’t matter whose fault it is,” one voice yelled over the others. “Spread out and find him. He has to be here somewhere.”

Then again, he might not.

8

YELENA

“I smell like death?” I asked Leif, trying to keep my panic from my voice. “Whose death? Mine? Yours?”

He tapped his chest and crinkled his nose. “No one’s. I just...” Leif waved his arms as if trying to pull in the right word. “It’s similar to death. It’s a...loss. Something is missing. And there’s strong grief¸ as if someone close to you has died.”

Oh. That explained it.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

Guess he hadn’t talked to Mara yet. I glanced around at the training yard. A few students still lingered and a couple kept practicing. Some magicians had the ability to listen from a distance.

“Don’t worry. It’s not that dire. I’ll tell you when I tell Fisk,” I said.

“Fisk?”

“Yes, I need both of your help and it’d be easier if I only have to explain everything once. Do you have time now?”

Leif looked at the glass workshop with a wistful expression.

“Mara knows.”

He turned to me in surprise. “She does?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks.”

Not the reaction I’d expected. I’d figured he’d be put out because I told Mara first.

“I’m not that childish,” he said, correctly reading my look.

I waited.

“At least not this time. I’m glad you confided in Mara. She always feels left out. She doesn’t ever say it aloud or complain, but I can smell the disappointment.”

“Must be tough.”

“It is, but I’ve a duty to Sitia, and discretion is a big part of it. You should know all about that. I’m sure you can’t tell Valek everything. Right?”

“If I said no, would you have me arrested for treason?”

“No.”

“Nice to know you trust me.”

He pished. “Trust has nothing to do with it. It’d upset Mara and that would upset Mara’s mother and then I’d be cut off from the best food in Sitia.”

“Ah, food trumps treason.”

Leif laughed. “Every time.” Then he sobered. “I need to tell Mara where I’m going and to take a quick bath. How about I meet you at the gate in fifteen minutes?”

I sniffed and crinkled my nose. “Make it thirty.”

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned before heading toward the bathhouse.

I grabbed my cloak. Since I had the time, I stopped by Irys’s office on my way to the gate. She called me in before I could knock. Her office was similar in size to Bain’s, but much neater and not as many books.

A red-tailed hawk sat on a perch by the window. He squawked at me in greeting.

“Hello, Odwin. Who’s the handsome fellow?”

The hawk flexed his wings, showing off.

“That’s right, you are.” I stroked his head.

“Don’t encourage him. His ego is big enough,” Irys said.

“Any news?” I asked.

Irys pushed a strand of black hair from her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “I reviewed the logbooks for the past two weeks, and Quinn hasn’t left the Keep. I also talked to him between classes. He said he can’t draw magic into the glass. Opal tried to teach him to use the empty glass orbs like she did when siphoning magic, but he couldn’t. So far, all he’s able to do is make his magic stick to the glass.”

“Are you sure he was telling the truth? Maybe Leif—”

“I think I can spot a lie by now, Yelena.”

“Sorry.” More good/bad news.