Fela nodded. "It takes years to learn your way around the Stacks. It's like a city."

I smiled. "That's how I think of it too. I haven't lived here long enough to learn all the shortcuts."

Fela grimaced a bit. "And I'm guessing you're going to need those. If Kilvin really believes the sygaldry is dangerous, most of the books you want will be in his private library."

I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach. "Private library?"

"All the masters have private libraries," Fela said matter-of-factly. "I know some alchemy so I help spot books with formulae Mandrag wouldn't want in the wrong hands. Scrivs who know sygaldry do the same for Kilvin."

"But this is pointless then," I said. "If Kilvin has all those books locked away there's no chance of finding what I'm looking for."

Fela smiled, shaking her head. "The system isn't perfect. Only about a third of the Archives are properly cataloged. What you're looking for is probably still in the Stacks somewhere. It's just a matter of finding it."

"I wouldn't even need a whole schema," I said. "If I just knew a few of the proper runes I could probably just fake the rest."

She gave me a worried look. "Is that really wise?"

"Wisdom is a luxury I can't afford," I said. "Wil and Sim have already been watching over me for two nights. They can't sleep in shifts for the next ten years."

Fela drew a deep breath then let it out slowly. "Right. We can start with the cataloged books first. Maybe what you need has slipped past the scrivs."

We collected several dozen books on sygaldry and closeted ourselves in an out-of-the-way reading hole on the fourth floor. Then we started going through them one at a time.

We began with hopes of finding a full-fledged schema for a gram, but as the hours slid by we lowered our hopes. If not a whole schema, perhaps we could find a description of one. Perhaps a reference to the sequence of runes used. The name of a single rune. A hint. A clue. A sc.r.a.p. Some piece of the puzzle.

I closed the last of the books we had brought back to the reading hole. It made a solid thump as the pages settled together.

"Nothing?" she asked tiredly.

"Nothing." I rubbed my face with both hands. "So much for getting lucky."

Fela shrugged, grimacing halfway through the motion, then craned her head to one side to stretch a kink out of her neck. "It made sense to start in the most obvious places," she said. "But those will be the same places the scrivs have combed over for Kilvin. We'll just have to dig deeper."

I heard the distant sound of the belling tower and was surprised at how many times it struck. We'd been researching for over four hours. "You've missed your cla.s.s," I said.

"It's just geometries," she said.

"You're a wonderful person," I said. "What's our best option now?"

"A long, slow trawl of the Stacks," she said. "But it's going to be like panning for gold. Dozens of hours, and that's with both of us working together so we don't overlap our efforts."

"I can bring in Wil and Sim to help," I said.

"Wilem works here," Fela said. "But Simmon's never been a scriv, he'll probably just get in the way."

I gave her an odd look. "Do you know Sim very well?"

"Not very," she admitted. "I've seen him around."

"You're underestimating him," I said. "People do it all the time. Sim's smart."

"Everyone here is smart," Fela said. "And Sim is nice, but ..."

"That's the problem," I said. "He's nice. He's gentle, which people see as weak. And he's happy, which people see as stupid."

"I didn't mean it like that," Fela said.

"I know," I said, rubbing at my face. "I'm sorry. It's been a bad couple of days. I thought the University would be different than the rest of the world, but it's just like everywhere else: people cater to pompous, rude b.a.s.t.a.r.ds like Ambrose, while the good souls like Simmon get brushed off as simpletons."

"Which one are you?" Fela said with a smile as she began to stack up the books. "Pompous b.a.s.t.a.r.d or good soul?"

"I'll research that later," I said. "Right now I've got more pressing concerns."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

Trust WHILE I WAS FAIRLY sure Devi wasn't behind the malfeasance, I'd have to be a fool to ignore the fact that she had my blood. So when it became clear that making a gram was going to require a great deal of time and energy, I realized the time had come to pay her a visit and make sure she wasn't responsible.

It was a miserable day: chill with a clammy wind that cut through my clothes. I didn't own gloves or a hat, and had to settle for putting up my hood and wrapping my hands in the fabric of my cloak as I pulled it more tightly around my shoulders.

As I crossed Stonebridge a new thought occurred to me: maybe someone had stolen my blood from Devi. That made better sense than anything else. I needed to make sure the bottle with my blood was safe. If she still had it, and it hadn't been tampered with, I'd know she wasn't involved.

I made my way to the western edge of Imre where I stopped at a tavern to buy a small beer and warm myself by their fire. Then I walked through the now familiar alley and up the narrow staircase behind the butcher's shop. Despite the chill and recent rain, the smell of rancid fat still hung in the air.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

It opened after a minute, then Devi's face peered through a narrow crack in the door. "Well h.e.l.lo," she said. "Are you here for business or pleasure?"

"Business mostly," I admitted.

"Pity." She opened the door wider.

As I came into the room I tripped on the threshold, stumbling clumsily into her and resting one hand briefly on her shoulder as I steadied myself. "Sorry," I said, embarra.s.sed.

"You look like h.e.l.l," she said as she bolted the door. "I hope you're not looking for more money. I don't lend to folks who look like they're coming off a three-day drunk."

I settled wearily into a chair. "I brought back your book." I said, bringing it out from under my cloak and laying it on her desk.

She nodded at it, smiling a bit. "What did you think of good old Malcaf?"

"Dry. Wordy. Boring."

"There weren't any pictures either," she said dryly. "But that's beside the point."

"His theories about perception as an active force were interesting," I admitted. "But he writes like he's afraid someone might actually understand him."

Devi nodded, her mouth pursed. "That's about what I thought too." She reached across the desk and slid the book closer to herself. "What did you think about the chapter on proprioception?"

"He seemed to be arguing from a deep well of ignorance," I said. "I've met people in the Medica with amputated limbs. I don't think Malcaf ever has."

I watched her for some sign of guilt, some indication she'd been practicing malfeasance against me. But there was nothing. She seemed perfectly normal, cheery and sharp-tongued as ever. But I had grown up among actors. I know how many ways there are to hide your true feelings.

Devi made an exaggerated frown. "You look so serious over there. What are you thinking?"

"I had a couple of questions," I said evasively. I wasn't looking forward to this. "Not about Malcaf."

"I'm so tired of being appreciated for my intellect." She leaned back and stretched her arms over her head. "When will I be able to find a nice boy who just wants me for my body?" She gave a luxurious stretch, but stopped halfway through, giving me a puzzled look. "I'm waiting for a quip here. You're usually quicker than this."

I gave her a weak smile. "I've got a lot on my mind. I don't think I can match wits with you today."

"I never suspected you could match wits with me," she said. "But I do like a little banter now and then." She leaned forward and folded her hands on the top of the desk. "What sort of questions?"

"Did you do much sygaldry in the University?"

"Personal questions." She raised an eyebrow. "No. I didn't care for it. Too much fiddling around for my taste."

"You don't seem to be the sort of woman who'd mind a little fiddling around," I said, managing a weak smile.

"That's more like it," she said with approval. "I knew you had it in you."

"I don't suppose you have any books on advanced sygaldry?" I asked. "The sort of things they don't allow a Re'lar access to?"

Devi shook her head. "No. I've got some nice alchemical texts though. Stuff you'd never find in your precious Archives." Bitterness was thick in her voice when she said the last word.

That's when it all came together in my head. Devi wouldn't ever be so careless as to let someone steal my blood. She wouldn't sell it to turn a quick profit. She didn't need the money. She didn't have a grudge against me.

But Devi would sell her eyeteeth to get into the Archives.

"It's funny you should mention alchemy," I said as calmly as possible. "Have you ever heard of something called a plum bob?"

"I've heard of it," she said easily. "Nasty little thing. I think I have the formula." She turned in her seat a little, facing toward the shelf. "You interested in seeing it?"

Her face didn't betray her, but with enough practice, anyone can control their face. Her body language didn't give her away either. There was only the slightest tension in her shoulders, only a hint of hesitation.

It was her eyes. When I mentioned the plum bob, I saw a flicker there. Not just recognition. Guilt. Of course. She'd sold the formula to Ambrose.

And why wouldn't she? Ambrose was a high-ranking scriv. He could sneak her into the Archives. h.e.l.l, with the resources at his disposal, he might not even have to do that. Everyone knew Lorren occasionally granted nonarcanum scholars access to the Archives, especially if their patrons were willing to pave the way with a generous donation. Ambrose had once bought an entire inn just to spite me. How much more would he be willing to pay to get hold of my blood?

No. Wil and Sim had been right about that. Ambrose wasn't the sort to get his hands dirty if he could avoid it. Much simpler for him to hire Devi to do his dirty work for him. She'd already been expelled. She had nothing to lose and all the secrets of the Archives to gain.

"No thanks," I said. "I don't do much alchemy." I took a deep breath and decided to jump right to the point. "But I do need to see my blood."

Devi's cheery expression froze on her face. Her mouth still smiled, but her eyes were cold. "I beg your pardon?" It wasn't really a question.

"I need to see the blood I left here with you," I said. "I need to know it's safe."

"I'm afraid that's not possible." Her smile fell completely away, and her mouth made a thin, flat line. "That's not how I do business. Besides, do you think I'd be stupid enough to keep that sort of thing here?"

I felt a sinking sensation in my gut, still not wanting to believe it. "We can go to wherever you keep it," I said calmly. "Someone has been conducting malfeasance against me. I need to make sure it hasn't been tampered with. That's all."

"As if I would just show you where I keep that sort of thing," Devi said with scathing sarcasm. "Have you been struck in the head or something?"

"I'm afraid I must insist."

"Go ahead and be afraid," Devi said with a glare. "Go ahead and insist. It won't make any difference."

It was her. There was no other reason for her to keep it from me. "If you refuse to show me," I continued, trying to keep my voice level and calm. "I must a.s.sume you've sold my blood, or made your own mommet of me for some reason."

Devi leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms with deliberate nonchalance. "You can a.s.sume whatever stupid thing pleases you. You'll see your blood when you settle your debt with me, and not one moment sooner."

I brought out a wax doll from underneath my cloak and rested my hand on the desk so she could see it.

"Is that supposed to be me?" she said. "With hips like that?" But the words were just the sh.e.l.l of a joke, a reflex action. Her tone was flat and angry. Her eyes were hard.

With my other hand I brought out a short strawberry-blond hair and fixed it to the doll's head. Devi's hand went unconsciously to her own hair, her expression shocked.

"Someone has been attacking me," I said. "I need to make sure my blood is-"

This time when I mentioned my blood, I saw her eyes flicker to one of her desk's drawers. Her fingers twitched slightly.

I met her eye. "Don't," I said grimly.

Devi's hand darted to the drawer, yanking it open.

I didn't doubt for a second that the drawer held the mommet she'd made of me. I couldn't let her get hold of it. I concentrated and murmured a binding.

Devi's hand came to a jarring halt halfway to the open drawer.

I hadn't done anything to hurt her. No fire, no pain, nothing like what she'd done to me over the last several days. It was just a binding to keep her motionless. When I'd stopped at the tavern to warm myself, I'd taken a pinch of ash from their fireplace. It wasn't a great source, and it was farther away than I'd like, but it was better than nothing.

Still, I could probably only hold her like this for a few minutes before I drew so much heat from the fire that I extinguished it. But that should be enough time for me to get the truth out of her and reclaim the mommet she'd made.

Devi's eyes grew wild as she struggled to move. "How dare you!" she shouted. "How dare you!"

"How dare you! you!" I spat back angrily. "I can't believe I trusted you! I defended you to my friends-" I trailed off as the unthinkable happened. Despite my binding, Devi started to move, her hand inching its way into the open drawer.

I concentrated harder and Devi's hand came to a halt. Then, slowly, it began to creep forward again, disappearing into the drawer. I couldn't believe it.

"You think you can come in here and threaten me?" Devi hissed, her face a mask of rage. "You think I can't take care of myself? I made Re'lar before they threw me out, you little slipstick. I earned it. My Alar is like the ocean in storm." Her hand was almost completely inside the drawer now.

I felt a clammy sweat break out across my forehead and broke my mind three more times. I murmured again and each piece of my mind made a separate binding, focusing on keeping her still. I drew heat from my body, feeling the cold crawl up my arms as I bore down on her. That was five bindings in all. My outside limit.

Devi went motionless as stone, and she chuckled deep in her throat, grinning. "Oh you're very very good. I almost believe the stories about you now. But what makes you think you can do what even Elxa Dal couldn't? Why do you think they expelled me? They feared a woman who could match a master by her second year." Sweat made her pale hair cling to her forehead. She clenched her teeth, her pixie face savage with determination. Her hand began to move again. good. I almost believe the stories about you now. But what makes you think you can do what even Elxa Dal couldn't? Why do you think they expelled me? They feared a woman who could match a master by her second year." Sweat made her pale hair cling to her forehead. She clenched her teeth, her pixie face savage with determination. Her hand began to move again.