"Invisibility," he replied quietly.

She frowned.

"And fire."

The frown deepened. "It is unlikely that writs would be granted for the use of either."

"I consider it very likely," he replied. "Paper itself is frequently found, and writs granted in cases of emergencies to the members of the Magisterium who are responsible for the patrol of the holdings are not difficult to access."

"These were not magisterial guards."

"No."

"But you believe that the Magisterium has been compromised?"

Rath shrugged. "The Magisterium is a fine inst.i.tution," he said, grudgingly, "but men are men everywhere."

"The Magisterium, in this, is beholden to the Order," she replied quietly, "and no such request has recently crossed my desk." Before he could speak, she added, "Recently, in this case, covering the period of time that is roughly equal to the last decade."

"There are the writs of exception."

"If a writ of exception is to be used in case of emergency, its use nonetheless requires a full report. A full and timely report." Her tone made clear that timely was about five seconds after its use.

"Believe, Ararath Handernesse, that such reports are read with care and a great eye to detail. Believe that those who tender those very necessary reports write them with care and precision.

"And believe, as well, that no such report has been offered me in the last several years."

He raised a brow, and she offered a grudging smile.

He nodded slowly. "Magic was nonetheless used. Money and power of the nature required to purchase the services of a less scrupulous mage is seldom found in the lower holdings; the lower holdings may claim few charms or virtues, but this absence would be among them."

"Granted. You were a witness to both of these uses of magic?"

"I was a combatant," he replied.

"Ah. And you used the daggers?"

"The second set, yes."

"Where?"

"In a large brothel of no legal standing."

"I see." She looked at him as if she did, and further, as if she might approve. "And what led you there?"

"A girl," he replied. "Before you make further inquiries, without her permission, I cannot in conscience speak more of her."

"A girl."

He nodded.

"Very well. She seemed normal to you?"

"As normal as any foundling who has been sold into slavery, yes." The words were harsher than he had intended, but he kept his tone neutral. That much, he could manage.

But the anger surprised him.

"Ararath," Andrei said dryly, "has never been known for a great love of sentiment, and he has seldom been called a hypocrite."

"Then this began as a matter of more practical concern?" The woman asked Andrei.

Rath wanted to kick him. As it was unlikely to be viewed in the correct social light, he refrained.

"Let us labor under the a.s.sumption that it was."

"And that the dealings of these men somehow naturally crossed his path?"

"Even so."

"And both uses of the daggers occurred in illegal brothels?"

"Ah. I have not made myself clear. The latter, I was not witness to. The former took place within the Common. Rath is something of an amateur historian," Andrei added quietly, pa.s.sing the mess he had made of the conversation back to Rath.

"Ah. And your area of speciality?"

"I believe," Member APhaniel said, blowing smoke as he casually rejoined the conversation, "that it has something to do with Old Weston."

And Rath remembered Member Haberas, and was silent for a moment. But the pale-haired mage was waiting, and if he waited with perfect patience, there was something in his posture that implied veneer, not substance.

To his surprise, the mage added quietly, "The death of Member Haberas remains under investigation." It was both invitation and acknowledgment. Member Mellifas looked at Member APhaniel and frowned; the frown was slight, and seemed to contain no anger, no real criticism.

Hard to remember that he was dealing with a woman who in theory ruled the Order of Knowledge. But remembering Haberas more clearly than he had in some time, Rath thought that this particular difficulty suited the Order, where a firmer, clearer hand might not.

"There were some irregularities," she said at last. "The Magisterium has not been entirely sympathetic to our requests."

Rath frowned. "To your request, Member Mellifas?"

"Even to mine," she replied, with a tired smile. Yes, hard to imagine that this tired, old woman could rule the mysterious and terrifying Order. "For this reason, we have not chosen to involve the Magisterium more closely than the rule of law demands."

He absorbed her words slowly.

"Yes," she said, before he could formulate a suitably tactful question. "This means we suspect that there are members of the Magisterium who have been placed in just such a position of authority to oversee our investigations, and not to our benefit."

"By who?"

"That is the question that we hope to answer. You will not, of course, be called upon in the course of these investigations. Any information you give us will therefore be considered collegial, but not legal." She paused, and then added, "Your friend, Andrei, has been most helpful."

"How?"

She lifted the satchel which contained the daggers.

"You'll forgive me if I consider the aid granted to travel in the opposite direction."

"Indeed. But the fact that these proved helpful-when so little else available did-tells us what we have begun to suspect. It is not welcome news, but we are long past the days of the Blood Barons, and we do not hold the bearer of unwelcome tidings responsible for carrying them.

"These are, of course, daggers. They will cut a man-"

"If he's standing still; they are far from the definition of sharp in any of the languages I know."

She smiled. "Very well. They are not new blades, and they were made in a time when the edge was less important than what was granted the blade as a whole. Andrei says you have studied some Old Weston." She waited for his nod, as if it made a difference. He almost believed it did.

She defined the term "grandmotherly" with her bearing, her obvious wisdom, her subdued affection. Rath found it disconcerting. He had had many reasons to deal with men-and women-of power in this City; he had hoped never to meet the person under whose sway the Order of Knowledge fell. He had taken care, during his rare visits to the Order, to use different names and a variety of odd disguises to further this goal.

"I know, dear," she told him, frowning as a circle of smoke crossed her vision. "I am seldom what anyone expects the first time."

"Nor," Member APhaniel said, having moved his pipe a fraction of an arm's length to one side, "is she what anyone expects a second or third time."

"Meralonne-"

He lifted a hand. "Time is at issue here. What Sigurne has said is true; the blades were not made to be common weapons. If you read Old Weston, you will see most of their purpose written on the flats of the blades themselves; if you have not mastered it, you will see some fragment of purpose; the metal, as I said, is not a hard one.

"But it was meant to endure enchantment, and to carry some hint of Lattan magic within it."

Rath frowned. "Lattan, as in the month?"

"As in the month, yes. There were other weapons made at one time that were meant as vessels for Scaral magic, but they serve little purpose now."

Lattan. Scaral. Opposite months in the Imperial calendar. Rath's frown deepened a moment. "The solstices," he said at last.

Meralonne clearly expected his words to have conveyed that information.

"The longest day," Rath added quietly.

"Indeed. In the ancient tongue, the height of Summer at the crossroads."

If Rath was not a mage-and to his great regret, he was not-he had more than a pa.s.sing knowledge of the various branches of magic studied and practiced within the Order of Knowledge. Summer was not one of them. They were, after all, not agrarians.

"The blades contain that essence, when they are properly consecrated and prepared. It is not," Meralonne added, "a trivial task, and it is also not a task that can be undertaken by members of the Order."

"But the daggers-"

"They came from our hands, yes, but they were delivered to them, at some political cost and inconvenience, by the G.o.d-born upon the Isle."

The heads, Rath thought, of the triad of Churches whose spires were allowed, by law, to reach higher than the towers of Avantari, the palace of Kings. The only such spires.

"Had you stabbed a man with this-with either of these-it would have wounded him. That is not the effect such action had." He spoke with absolute certainty, and it was a warning to Rath: lying was not only unwise, it was pointless. Worse than pointless. Given that the head of the Order of Knowledge had chosen to involve herself, and given how little actual knowledge Rath possessed, it gave him only the opportunity to make enemies.

"No," he said quietly. "It-seemed to-burn them from the inside out."

The two mages exchanged a glance.

"You recognized these men?"

"No. In both cases, they were strangers to me."

"You've spoken of two incidents; the first?"

"I was followed in the Common, as Andrei has recounted," he said, speaking with care, "when I left the abode of a friend."

"Why?"

"Why was I followed?"

"That will do, for a start."

Rath shrugged. Lying was pointless, yes, but truth could be an art when used with care. "I had, in my possession, two old bowls that I hoped to sell. One of them was cracked," he added.

"And these?"

"I sold them; they are no longer in my possession."

"Who was their purchaser?"

This suited Rath. "A tall, bald man by the name of Patris AMatie."

Meralonne frowned. "The name is not known to me."

Andrei chose to speak. "He is a merchant, Member APhaniel, of some ten years good standing in the Merchants' Guild."

"And he has an interest in cracked bowls?" Member APhaniel took Andrei's information without once glancing at the man who had offered it.

"Of a particular vintage."

"You believe he had you followed."

Rath nodded.

"And you used the daggers-"

Andrei lifted a hand. "I used them," he said quietly. "Some discreet inquiries had been made by that time, and I chose to follow instinct."

"May it always serve you this well." Member APhaniel looked to Sigurne. "Four," he said again.

"Who were these men?" Rath finally asked.

"They were not, in our parlance, men, as I believe you already suspect," Sigurne replied. "But this is ill news, for those of us who labor within the Order. You were a child once," she continued, "and perhaps as a child you were told stories of the times before Veralaan returned to grace the Empire with her sons?"

Rath nodded.