“Fire and wonder,” she murmured.

She sifted through the papers, then found it: the note from the Philosopher. He said she had forgotten something, a mystery from before this mystery.

“Think, Deirdre,” she said through clenched teeth. “Think.”

What had she been researching before she learned about Thomas Atwater, and the tavern, and the keystone? What had she been searching for before he first contacted her? The last pieces of the puzzle rearranged themselves in her mind. Slowly, she sank into the chair.

Fire and wonder. That was the first search phrase she had entered into the computer after receiving Echelon 7 clearance. The strange god-child Samanda had spoken those words to her once. The search had brought up a single file, one that was deleted from the system at the exact moment her search had discovered it.

In the strange days that followed, leading up to the assault on the Steel Cathedral in Denver, she had forgotten all about the mystery of the missing computer file. But he had told her to remember, and now she had. Only what did it mean? It couldn’t be a coincidence that those same two words were inscribed on the arch. Whatever was in that missing file, it was related to the stone gate.

Deirdre opened a file drawer and pawed through her notes. It took her a minute, then she found it: a computer printout from that night’s session, three years earlier. Her eyes scanned down the page. And there it was.

Search completed.

1 match(es) located:

/albion/archive/case999-1/mla1684a.arch

She had performed searches on that case number three years ago, and nothing had come up. What about the file name itself? Did it hint at what the file contained? Maybe. What the letters mlastood for, Deirdre couldn’t guess. However, the .archsuffix suggested this was an archive file, and 1684had to refer to a year.

Deirdre opened her computer and brought up a search window. “Display a summary of all major cases and events recorded in the annals of the Seekers for the year 1684,” she muttered the query as she typed it.

She hit the ENTER key, and seconds later a glowing green list appeared on her screen. It only took a moment before she saw the entry that mattered.

7 August 1684. Seeker agent Marius Lucius Albrecht dies, aged 29.

Deirdre leaned back, staring at the screen. The initials— mla—could only refer to him, to Marius Lucius Albrecht: the legendary Seeker who was expelled from the order for falling in love with Alis Faraday, the woman he had been ordered to observe. In the years that followed, Albrecht redeemed himself and was admitted again to the order, becoming perhaps the greatest Seeker ever before his untimely death at the age of twenty-nine.

The file, mla1684a.arch, had to be an archive of his final papers or reports. Whatever the file contained, clearly someone didn’t want her to read it, as they had deleted the file before she could access it. Or perhaps an automatic guard had been set up around the file: a program designed to delete the file the moment anyone tried to open it.

Either way, there was one thing she did know: He had first made contact with her just after her search located the file. The Philosopher who had been helping her. Now the note he had given her had reminded her of this old mystery. For some reason, her mysterious helper wanted to point her in the direction of Marius Lucius Albrecht.

But why was Marius Lucius Albrecht important? She was still missing that piece of the puzzle. Like every Seeker, she had studied the history of all the cases he had worked on. They were fascinating—the result of a brilliant mind and a superb researcher—but none of them had anything to do with the keystone or the tavern or the arch on Crete.

None of the ones you read at least, Deirdre. But maybe you haven’t read everything of Albrecht’s. I’ll bet you no Seeker has seen what’s in that file that was deleted, at least not in recent history.

She wished Farr were there. He had studied Albrecht’s career in greater depth than any Seeker she knew. Indeed, many in the order had considered him to be a modern-day Albrecht. He was as dazzling an investigator, and his rise in the order as meteoric. And, like Albrecht, Farr had even fallen in love with the woman he had been ordered to watch: Dr. Grace Beckett. However, Farr hadn’t been cast out of the order; he had quit of his own accord. And something told Deirdre he was never coming back. She was on her own in this one.

So what do you do, Deirdre? You can’t get at that deleted file, not even with Echelon 7 clearance.

She gripped her yellowed bear claw necklace, centering herself. She needed to treat it like any other investigation—which meant starting by gathering all the information she could concerning Marius Lucius Albrecht. She pulled her computer toward her and began typing.

The wall clock ticked away the hours as she worked. Anders and Beltan didn’t return from their quest for breakfast, but Deirdre only noted that in passing. She called up every file in the system that concerned Marius Lucius Albrecht. Searching the documents for the terms keystoneand tavernrevealed nothing of import, as she had guessed, and soon she found herself focusing on a summary of Albrecht’s life.

By the time she finished, she knew what she had to do. She leaned back from her computer, rubbing her aching neck, as Anders stepped into the office.

“Looks like you’ve been hard at work, mate.”

She shut her computer. “I’ve just been doing some cross-referencing on the terms Paul Jacoby translated on the arch.” She hated how easily the lie slipped off her tongue.

“Sounds good. Any luck?”

“Zero,” she said with a sigh. “So where’s Sir Give-Me-the-Keystone-Now-Or-Else?”

“Beltan? He’s in the parlor taking a lie-down. I actually convinced him to leave the keystone scheme alone for today.”

Deirdre sat up straight. “How did you manage that?”

“I used my preternatural powers of persuasion,” he said, then winked. “All right, the truth is I managed to get a large number of bloody Marys into him at breakfast. He’s conked out at the moment.”

Anders got Beltan drunk? Maybe it wasn’t the subtlest way to derail Beltan’s enthusiasm for tracking down those who possessed the arch, but Deirdre had to admit it was effective. And she was glad Anders had managed the feat. The nameless Philosopher had said it wasn’t time to go after the arch, that if they did they would perish. Besides, there was somewhere else she needed to go.

“He’s going to be angry when he wakes up,” she said.

“And he’s going to have one bugger of a hangover to boot. I had the bartender double the vodka in each of his drinks.”

Deirdre gave her partner a sharp look. Why exactly had he gotten Beltan drunk? Was he trying to prevent them from going after the arch?

“I’m going to put on a pot of coffee,” he said, taking off his coat. “Want some, mate?” He turned his broad back as he worked at the counter.

“Sure,” she said. She couldn’t stand doubting him. She couldn’t stand believing he was a traitor. But did she really know for certain he was? He wasn’t telling her the truth about the gun, yes. But she had no hard proof that he—

Her gaze locked on the corner of a manila envelope sticking out from underneath her computer. It was the envelope Eustace had brought earlier, the one from Sasha. Deirdre pulled it free, opened the flap, and slid the contents into her hand.

It was a photograph. The photo was pixilated, and slightly blurred, but clear enough to make out the scene. It had been shot through a door that was cracked open an inch. The room beyond was this one, her office. Half of Deirdre’s desk was in view. A figure bent over it, going through the papers on her desk.