Rodian was silent for a long moment. "That seems quite a venture, but I haven't heard of any new branch in the making."

"It wasn't anywhere nearby."

"Then abroad? I know the Lhoin'na, the elves to the far southeast, have a branch. Another is in the Suman Empire on its western coast. It seems there's no need for one more."

"Not here… on the eastern continent."

"A lengthy journey. You must've been gone a long while. Yet now you do nothing. So the endeavor failed, and you and your mentor returned?"

"No, just me. The others still strive to keep it going."

"Is this a common pursuit… to establish further branches in far-off lands?"

"It's the only attempt I know of—in my lifetime."

"I see," Rodian said, and that was all.

They rode in silence until Wynn spotted remnants of the old outer bailey wall among shops and other buildings along Switchin Way. That wall had opened in many places over the centuries since the guild took over the first castle. The city had flowed in to fill the outer bailey, all the way to what was now called the Old Bailey Road. They turned onto it, looping around the still-present inner bailey wall of the guild's grounds.

"Wynn!"

The thunderous growl carried to her as the captain's horse neared the front gate. Beyond, just outside the gatehouse, Domin High-Tower stood with two apprentices in gray. He began striding down the path, and both apprentices scurried after in nervous steps.

"You'd better leave me here," Wynn told the captain.

He reached back, bracing her as she slid off his horse. Before she could thank him for the ride, Domin High-Tower came at them.

"Get back inside!" he barked at her, but his outraged expression was aimed at the captain. "And you were told no interrogation without supervision."

Baffled, Wynn looked up, wondering what Captain Rodian had done to earn such ire. And what interrogation was the domin referring to?

"By the Trinity, I thank you for the tutelage, Journeyor Hygeorht," the captain said. "Knowledge is always a blessing, when it comes. Perhaps you would teach me more at a better time."

Wynn cringed for more than one reason.

Firstly she knew his reference to one of several religions in the land—they called it the Blessed Trinity of Sentience. Though one of the most reasoned, it didn't sit well with her. Captain Rodian was an arrogant, controlling, ambitious man, but she hadn't figured him as a fanatic.

As he turned his horse down the street, Wynn tried to remember all she'd said to this complicated soldier. And the second reason…

He had played her, but she wasn't sure how well or for what.

At the first intersection along Old Procession Road, Rodian reined in and turned his horse in time to watch the dwarven sage herding Wynn Hygeorht into the guild's castle. He pulled his small journal from his belt and scanned his notes.

Whatever the sages had in their possession and hid from outside eyes under royal protection, he had little doubt where it had come from. Or at least, who had brought those texts to them.

Half a year, Sykion had said, since translations had begun—and six moons since a young journeyor returned alone from abroad. In that time, the project was still ongoing in small pieces. Whatever Wynn Hygeorht brought back from foreign lands, it was more than just a few old scrolls or an obscure tome. But it wasn't all that she'd brought.

Wynn had brought fear to her guild, though they hid this as well.

It didn't matter that these sages dismissed a connection between one folio and the deaths of two of their own. Their emphatic certainty didn't weigh in the balance.

Captain Siweard Rodian believed—knew—this, as sure as his faith.

After finishing half a supper, alone among the others in the common hall, Wynn carried a wooden crate filled with empty milk bottles out through the gatehouse tunnel.

Everyone living within the guild grounds equally shared regular duties. Tonight Wynn took her turn in the kitchens, and any errand to get away from staring eyes was welcome. Chopping vegetables had been especially unpleasant, considering who'd been in charge of meal preparations. Regina Melliny was a nasty beanpole of an apprentice in the Order of Naturology, and the ringleader for those whispering most behind Wynn's back.

Whether it was snide comments about Wynn being "above herself," or just that she was a fool with all her mad talk of dhampirs, undead, and assassins, Regina had a hand in it. She was like the head of a motley troupe of street players, who picked a passerby to mock for everyone else's amusement.

Perhaps the venom stemmed from a zealous approach to her order's pragmatic pursuits in natural and earth studies. Or maybe it was just her noble upbringing. Either way, Wynn couldn't wait to escape the kitchens during cleanup.

She trudged to the inner bailey's gate and settled the crates with a note on top, requesting a full wheel of goat cheese with the next delivery. In the morning a dairyman would pick up the empties, leave full bottles, and fulfill requests for goods that were available.

Wynn lingered awhile, breathing the damp night air and watching her own breath billow like fog in the cold. Then a strange thought popped into her head—or rather a memory.

As Captain Rodian had shoved her out of the Upright Quill, she'd glimpsed a shimmer, like fur touched by distant street lanterns, as something ducked into the alley. Again she found herself missing Chap to a painful degree.

Wynn peered down Old Procession Road running straight into the city. She didn't really notice the dim glow from all of the scattered street lanterns. Or rather she peered into each pool of light upon the wide cobbled street, one by one, searching for another glimpse.

She shook her head and scoffed. That was all she needed—to lend more credence to her fame for addled wits, even if only to herself. She reluctantly turned up the path and was nearly to the gatehouse when she froze.

Large torches, their blazing heads girded in iron bands, were mounted to either side of the tunnel. But someone stood in the entrance's darker shadow, just out of the light's reach.

Nikolas Columsarn inched out into plain sight.

Wynn sighed, heart still pounding in her chest. It had been too long a day, and she wasn't up to this. But the closer she stepped, the more his lost expression wrenched her. His straight brown hair hung partly over his face, but didn't quite hide his nervous, shifting eyes.

"I heard the captain brought you back," Nikolas said softly, uncertain whether to whisper or not. "Did he tell you anything about…?"

"Jeremy and Elias?" she finished after he faltered.

"My only friends, except maybe Imaret."

"I saw her today. She asked after you."

He brushed his hair aside. "How is she?"

"Sad. You should go see her."

Wynn stepped past him into the tunnel, but he didn't follow. She should've left him there if he was just going to lurk about, but she reached back and pulled him once by the arm.

His shuffling gait sent the sound of scraping leather on stone rolling around the tunnel until they entered the inner courtyard. Wynn turned aside rather than head for the main hall. Nikolas quickened his step to catch up as she walked around the courtyard.

"Does the captain know anything yet?" Nikolas repeated.

"Why are you asking me?"

"I can't ask Domin High-Tower, or the premin… or anyone else. They wouldn't talk to me. Do you think the captain will find whoever did this… punish them, execute them?"

Wynn stopped. Clear hatred and hunger for vengeance surfaced under those shaky words. She was already certain the killer was undead, but Nikolas had sought her out for a reason. If he harbored any blame for an innocent, it had to be dispelled immediately.