On the other side of Bradford, Mei let students and faculty hurry past her as she examined the trees that blanketed the east half of the Magisterium campus. They were a mix of songmaple and doak, the kind of trees that grew tall, solid trunks and wide leafy branches. With autumn making its exit, their once red and golden leaves had browned and fallen, burying any stones or logs on the ground. Crossing through the woods quietly was going to be difficult. To make it to the College of Martial Magic, they should use cleared paths as much as possible.

  A Magisterium student approached. “Are you lost?”

  Mei glanced at her, took in the student’s thick blond curls, pale skin, half-full satchel, white pinafore, and gray dress, and said, “Inge.”

  “Inge?” The girl frowned. “Who’s that?”

  Mei turned back to the woods. “Are you ready?”

  The “student” pouted and removed their pinafore. “How did you recognize me?”

  Mei shrugged. “Only Maggie and Fran talk to me here.”

  “I see. And yes, I’m ready.” The spy shoved the pinafore into their satchel. “Are you?”

  Mei checked her pockets and loops. Her inventory: one dagger; one packet of matches; one rifle, already loaded; a pouch full of bullets; a horn full of explosive powder; and one golden key to the Duelist’s College. Her outfit tonight was a storm gray and night blue version of Maggie’s dueling outfit. While Mei preferred what she’d worn to the Harvest Ball, this was far easier to move around in, especially compared to what the spy was wearing.

  “Yes,” said Mei.

  “Good. Here’s the plan.” The spy pulled a dark blue scarf out of their satchel and began to wrap their blond curls in it. “We’ll head straight to the college from here. Our target, the dean’s office, is at the east end of the building in a private chapel. It has a side door that I’ll pick while you look out. Once it’s unlocked, we both go in, grab anything with Dwayne’s name on it, then leave. Don’t get cute.” They tied off their scarf. “Understood?”

  Mei nodded.

  “You know the way?”

  Mei nodded again. Maggie had shown her after lunch.

  “Then take the lead.”

  The main path wound lazily through the forest, taking the two of them past bush rabbits and shaggy deer making their last forages before winter. Dead leaves crunched under their feet and swished by on the wind as warmth and light drained from their surroundings. Before all this, Mei would have never gone out at this time of night, not when a moment’s inattention could leave her frozen by morning.

  Then, up ahead, a lantern bounced. Guards. Assuming that they worked for the Magisterium, which meant that Mei would have no authority over them, and that it was too risky for the spy to try to talk them around, Mei grabbed Inge’s hand and pulled them off the path and into the undergrowth. When the spy tried to speak, Mei slashed a signal: wait.

  The guards emerged from around the bend, one leading the way with sword and lantern while her partner prodded the darkness with his short spear. While their helmets and breastplates were dull and dented, their weapons were well maintained and both had a practicality and lethality that contrasted with the shiny armor and simple clubs the guards at the boathouse had had. The boathouse guards wanted to be seen and for their mere presence to resolve any incidents on its own. These fighters making their way closer and closer were not like them. They were mercenaries.

  That changed the equation. Surely, the spy would want to retreat and reassess. Mei waited for their signal, waited to offer silent reasons why the two of them should try anyway, but the spy only watched the mercenaries continue down the path. When they saw Mei watching them, they tapped their collarbone then pointed. Mei looked. Both mercenaries had white pipe-like things hanging from their necks. Strange. It was like the spy wanted to continue.

  When the mercenaries passed, Mei started to rise, but the spy pulled her back down and tapped her ears. Heeding, Mei listened, to the leaves rustling, to her heart beating, to the owls hooting, to the wind whistling in high and low tones. No, not the wind. Mei glanced at the white pipes again. Those had to be whistles, which had to be how the mercenaries kept track of each other in the dark.

  The spy touched foreheads with Mei. “Off path?”

  They really were committed to this. Staying off the path would be louder, but they’d avoid any more patrols. Moreover, it was unlikely that the mercenaries had any more experience in these woods than Mei did, and the lanterns they carried would make it nearly impossible to see anything beyond their light. With all that in their favor, Mei knew she and the spy could evade the patrols.

  Mei nodded. The spy nodded back and pulled away.

  After taking a moment to orient herself, Mei went low and, very slowly, pushed her way through the dead leaves. Behind her, a chorus of crunches heralded the spy’s own attempt to copy her. Wincing, Mei turned back and looked the spy over. The school dress they were wearing was sliding along the leaves, making a lot of noise. Mei could cut it off, but that would take too long, so instead she grabbed the skirt’s hem and tried to tuck it into itself. After a moment of alarm, the spy got the idea and took over, rolling their skirts up to above their knees then using Mei’s dagger to pin it in place. Satisfied, Mei continued onwards, the spy now following after much more quietly.

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  They’d made it ten wirs when a single low hooting sounded above them.

  Mei froze, hold out an arm to stop the spy. That had sounded like an owl, but it hadn’t been quite right. Granted, she wasn’t very familiar with the local birds, having spent most of her time in the city, but in her experience, birds never called just once. Listening closely, she could tell that most of the owl calls were real, but three of them had a beat to them, closer to song than conversation.

  The “owl” above them called again, and this time Mei counted heartbeats. When she reached twenty, the “owl” called. When she reached forty-three, it called again and again at sixty and again at seventy-eight. Each one helped Mei narrow direction and distance until she knew that, Whatever this “owl” was, it was further ahead and up in the trees. She’d have to get closer to confirm.

  She turned and pressed her forehead to the spy’s. “Stay.”

  Before the spy could protest, Mei prowled forward, following the “owl” calls to a tall doak tree eight wirs away. About six wirs above her lounged a lanky woman whose eyes watched the path while she cradled a gleaming crossbow in her arms. Unlike her brethren patrolling the path, her eyes would not be blinded by lanterns so she’d have seen Mei and Inge sneaking up the path. Mei pulled out a spare bullet and tossed into a tree a couple of wir away. The soft thump caused Owl’s crossbow aim in that direction. Mei grimaced. Surely this would be another reason why the spy would want to retreat as there were definitely at least three mercenaries hiding up in the trees.

  Mei returned, pressed her forehead to the spy’s, and pointed. “Guard. Owl.”

  The spy nodded then pulled a dark rag and a glass ball out of their satchel.

  “Here.” They pressed both into Mei’s hand. “Do.” They made a fist and pressed it to their mouth. “Sleep.”

  Mei eyed the glass ball. Her grip strength was excellent, but she wasn’t sure she could break glass with it. “Sure?”

  The spy nodded then tapped her chest with her fist. “Trust.”

  From what she could see, Mei’s only other options were to slit Owl’s neck, which was hard, or to shoot her out of the tree, which would draw too much attention. What she’d prefer was to have one of Maggie’s sleep bombs, but what the spy offered would have to do. Putting the rag and ball into her pocket, Mei slipped back to Owl’s tree and made her way around to the mercenary’s blind spot. Then she climbed, slowly so the tree didn’t move and so that any sounds were hidden by Owl’s own calls. Once she was behind the mercenary, Mei took out the rag and ball, reached around and slammed them into the mercenary’s face, crushing the glass and soaking the rag with a sweet smelling liquid. Owl struggled, tried to pull the rag away, but soon she succumbed. Her crossbow dropped. Mei tried to catch it, but it was either let it fall or let Owl fall, and Mei wasn’t a killer. She tensed, ready for the loud thump. It didn’t come. Mei frowned, but before she climbed down to investigate, she tied the mercenary to the tree with a spare bowstring. When she reached the ground, the spy was hiding the crossbow under the leaves.

  Mei bowed thanks. The spy gave a shrug then took the remains of the ball and rag from Mei and put them away in her satchel.

  Mei tapped her ears and then her mouth.

  Smiling, the spy tapped fist to chest. “Trust.” Then they waited a couple of heartbeats and made the perfect owl call. Grinning at Mei’s amazement, they pointed.

  Time to go.

  The careful pace required to listen for more “owl” calls as well as avoid patrols meant that the night was old by the time they reached the College of Martial Magic, and the required detour put them at the building’s south garden door instead of the main one to the west. Upside, Mei had a great view of the building’s defenses. Well lit with sconces and lanterns, the garden door had two mercenary guards and both the south-east and southwest corner had a pair as well. The chapel was visible, both to Mei and to the two guards on the southeast corner. That was bad enough, but then a three-man patrol came around the curve of the chapel and Mei recognized the scarred well-muscled woman leading it. Mei had faced her down at the Sorgi’s estate.

  When the patrol stopped to receive salutes from the southeast corner, Scar planted her heavy club and growled, “Report.”

  “Nothing to see here, ma’am,” said a thick bearded mercenary. “It’s been very quiet tonight.”

  “Good.” Scar turned to the other mercenary. “How many calls since I last passed by?”

  “Four from the west?” The other mercenary’s lips quavered under his mustache. “Three from the east, and four-”

  The spy hooted.

  “Correction: five from the south.”

  “That matches my count.” Scar nodded at the chapel door. “Hear anything?”

  Mustache paled. “No. I ain’t hear nothing. Ain’t been inside neither.”

  “Good. Keep it that way.” Scar pulled a white whistle out of her shirt and sounded it twice. “Let’s go.” Putting her club on her shoulder, she led her patrol westwards.

  So how were Mei and Inge going to get in? The mercenaries were positioned so that they could all see the entrances and each other, the college roof was very high up and the woods had been cut back more than ten wirs back from the walls. That left fighting the guards or tricking them, and neither seemed likely to work.

  Mei turned to the spy and pressed her forehead against theirs. “Retreat?”

  The spy shook her head. “You?”

  Mei shook her head.

  “Good.” The spy hooted again. “Watch.”

  Mei did so for once, she missing having her friends to help. While the spy’s magic was useful, Dwayne could probably tunnel in, Maggie could knock out every mercenary here, and Huan could… Mei that though die. He was why she was here.

  Twenty hoots later, Scar’s patrol came around again. Good. There was only one rotating patrol.

  Mei pressed her head against the spy’s. “I distract. You go.”

  The spy shook her head. “Guards.”

  Mei gestured at the ones they could see. “Them?”

  “Yes.” The spy thought some more then sighed. She handed Mei her satchel. “I distract. You go.”

  Mei opened her mouth to protest, but the spy pulled Mei’s dagger free from her skirt then tapped her fist on her chest.

  Trust.

  Huan wouldn’t trust the spy, especially not someone he’d had to strong-arm into helping, whose motives were unclear. However, Mei seen how much the steward cared for Dwayne, and, despite much grumbling and complaining, the spy had helped Mei again and again. Mei’s trust in the spy wasn’t borne of friendship, like with Maggie, or respect, like with Dwayne, but of the simple fact that the spy followed through.

  Unlike Huan.

  Mei nodded.

  The spy smiled. “Hide. Wait. Find Dwayne’s name.”

  “When?”

  “You’ll know.”