Saturdays were a half day for Quill, an institution for which he could thank his residence in the Sevens. That this half day for himself would begin with lunch with Denouement only added to the warm glow of having visited his moms the night before. He stretched out, once again wondering why he never accepted their offer of a quilt which would make his home all the more cozier and be less scratchy than his wool blanket. But, a question for a time when he didn’t feel quite so pleased with life. He was belting his robe and putting on slippers when he heard the papergirl, and deposited the paper onto the table to be enjoyed just as soon as he retrieved leftover fish stew from a compartment in his kitchen which allowed outside air through a grille. The headlines that day were once again red letter. The dragon of Coldpass was offering a reward in platinum for information leading to the arrest, and, Quill supposed, consumption by said dragon, of the person responsible for stealing several books from his lair. They were of purely spiritual interest to him, nothing that would benefit a human, he went on to say. As a closing statement he warned booksellers to be on the lookout for anyone seeking to sell antiques.

  Knowing he wouldn’t have time between work and closing up early, Quill took the time to make sure his hair was well-brushed, and it seemed that his spirit was in accordance with the universe as it was a rare sunny day in Crisp which he could leave his hat at home for. A touch foolhardy perhaps, as weather was changeable, but today was the day he concluded his business with Denouement and he hoped she would be receptive to overtures of meeting outside of a business context.

  When he looked behind the brick, as had become his habit, there was nothing to be found. He wondered who kept leaving things there, and whether he was frustrating some childish game of secrets by taking the enigmatic scraps. The library was, as Saturdays were, hectic. Quill kept his composure well, dealing with people who needed to find books they couldn’t possibly wait until Monday for, helped by the lack of any impertinent questions about Incarnism. Leather was even on time again, and he resolved to ask her about the change on some day that wasn’t Saturday. By the time Quill had closed up shop, it was the usual lunch hour, and so the square would be more crowded than usual. However, Denouement had evidently thought ahead, for she sat with a small bag of pierogi at the go table they had first met at, dressed in the same light green coat she had met him in. The pierogi were no longer steaming, and he felt a slight measure of guilt at the thought of her waiting in the cold before he remembered her rune-branded coat would keep her warm. There was an air to her, and Quill wondered curiously how her meeting with Glue had gone.

  Lacking an appropriate topic, he baldly asked, “So, is your coat warded against heat as well as cold?” Denouement laughed and shook her head. Evidently, as she explained, one could only ward against one so well, and both would be ineffective against either. She asked whether their business was concluded, and Quill found himself quite vague. He was sure he was waiting on an edict from his boss, but somehow the head librarian wasn’t the one who came to mind. Ultimately, he shook his head with a touch of remorse. Denouement’s gaze grew unfocused for a moment, and then she nodded and sighed. With equal clunkiness she brought up the topic of exercise, commenting on Quill’s physique and stating that her own preferred form of exercise was rock climbing. “A curious choice, coming from the Fireplains,” Quill said. “Is there much opportunity to climb around on the plains?” She smiled vaguely, and there was a delay before she nodded and said that the stone Barbery exported was used for all manner of construction and that all but the most carefully fitted bricks offered an opportunity to clamber up and down them.

  Quill was out of his seat before he realized what he was doing as Burner approached behind Denouement and grabbed her shoulder. Before he could move, Quill had his own hand on Burner’s wrist. The next few moments were very confusing for Quill. One moment, he was trying his strength against Burner’s, the next he was on the snowy ground, jaw aching. Burner guffawed, declaring, “So the duelist librarian has a glass jaw! Is that why you prefer foils?”

  Quill thought to himself that a sucker punch hardly gave him a glass jaw, and wobbled to his feet. As soon as his footing was steady, he replied, “Let me tell you, you resemble nothing so much as a herring bone stuck in my gums. Your presence poses no risk to my existence, and were I to sleep I would likely never see hide nor hair of you again, and you do inspire somnolence. Yet I feel I must address you, because of the sheer aggravation of your continued presence in my proverbial gums I require an immediate solution to your existence. I shall draw my sword, and you shall gaze upon glory as though it were the glory of the Lord Himself not only by virtue of my gracious form but by the inevitable lethality of your final vision.” When Burner wound up for another punch, this time Quill stepped inside his reach and gave Burner a swift jab to the gut that the man bore alarmingly well.

  Meanwhile, Denouement stood, freed from Burner’s grasp. She turned to go, and Burner cried, “Hold it right there, thief, before I dismantle your friend!” Denouement turned in place and spoke evenly, denying that she was any kind of thief. Burner spat on the ground. Quill, stepping out of dagger range in case Burner was more than a pugilist, challenged Burner that if he was half the air sorcerer he seemed to be, he could always try to read her mind and see for himself.

  Whatever Burner did, there was no rush of air and there was a wave of pressure against Quill’s mind. Burner sneered and said, “So you move quickly, and you’re tricky. Doesn’t mean anything. She’s the only one with the talents and we traced her to her air tank.” Quill didn’t know what this meant. Was Burner also a water sorcerer, capable of psychometry? “We’ll crack your cell, just you wait, but we’re getting her,” Burner jerked his head, “now. Come on, girlie, you don’t want a dragon as an enemy. You don’t even want me as an enemy. I make a much better friend.”

  He closed the distance between himself and Denouement and grabbed her wrist again. Quill, in turn, closed the distance between himself and Burner, and demanded satisfaction. Burner would duel him, or he would prove himself an honorless coward. This last word put a nasty gleam in Burner’s eyes. “You want to duel over a clock to the jaw? Didn’t you learn enough from the last time you put your hands on me?” Quill once again challenged him, over the affront to the honor of a woman he esteemed, and asked if he was a coward. Burner spat again. “I’m no coward, though you’ll not be getting me with that foil. You’re challenging me, that means I choose the weapon and I choose fists. Got a problem with that, librarian?” Quill shook his head and something in his chest relaxed as Burner loosed his grip on Denouement.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Denouement, on the other hand, appeared irritated. She turned to Quill and said she could fight her own battles, thank you very much. Burner grinned. “You want to fight me instead, De-now-meant? I can take a rabbit punch or two.” Quill stepped between them. He had been the first to propose a duel, he would have first crack at Burner. They could even hire an earth sorcerer to patch him up, if Denouement wanted the pleasure of breaking in Burner’s face. She scowled and commented that they were drawing a crowd. “Oh, so the librarian and the fancy lass don’t like attention? Go figure that. I’ll take you both, and when I win the thief goes with me. Name your place, librarian, and don’t think of slipping out of Coldpass before the day.” Surely, Quill replied, even Burner wouldn’t be so gauche as to duel on the morrow, which was Sunday. Burner narrowed his eyes. “The Incarnate Wholist duelist respects the sabbath? Who knew? Here I thought your business paid no mind what day it was.” Quill recoiled mentally from this man who knew all things he identified himself by. At least he didn’t know, well, he didn’t know what Burner didn’t know, and he certainly wouldn’t cast about for them now of all times. “Keep thinking that, librarian. We’ll strip the secrets out of your bones if we have to. As for dueling, I’m a member of a private club. Just like your fancy pants self somehow. We can go there to fight. Duel. Right now.”

  He grabbed at Denouement’s wrist, and found himself in the snow blinking blearily. Quill raised an eyebrow, not having been the one to throw a punch. Denouement was looking smug, but also shaking out her hand. “Oh, it’ll be a treasure to fight you, De-now-meant.” Quill asked what this club was, how he could be certain Burner wasn’t just leading them into a trap. “Now what would a librarian know about setting traps? What do I have to trap you with?” Denouement said he had untoward intentions towards them both, what further evidence did they need? “Would you have us duel here, in the snow? Might soften the blow when you hit the ground. But no, we’re dueling at my club. Otherwise you’ll team up on me. I can take you, but I’d get hurt. The club will keep things sportsmanlike.” Ultimately, they agreed to follow Burner, though Quill kept his hand on his foil.

  The club was a hole in the wall, painted with the image of a red dragon, known to most as a flame dragon. Barbery was, after all, the northern reach of the Claw of Fire. Behind the door was a staircase leading downwards, and as they descended into the depths the walls palpably radiated heat. At the bottom of the staircase was a room dimly lit with tallow candles, paneled in expensive wood, and an assortment of burly types with bangs standing around. Quill noted their number and hoped a good left hook wasn’t the extent of Denouement’s martial abilities. There was a fight in progress, and Burner put up a hand for them to stop. Evidently the “club” was a brawling ring, the man and woman wailing upon each other with their bare hands. When the fight concluded, the woman spitting a tooth onto the downed man, Burner strode into the middle. “You’ll be taking off that blade now, librarian.” Quill protested that he would not hand his only force multiplier into the hands of enemies, that on his honor he would not draw his sword until Burner violated the sanctity of the duel. “There’s no ‘sancticty’ to a duel, either you win or you don’t. But I see you take it seriously. Keep your blade, and if you draw it these boys will perforate you.” Quill looked around to see that at each corner of the room the men observing had a crossbow.

  He would have preferred to limber up first, but Quill saw no chance of Burner allowing such niceties. By which he meant, in the corner of his mind that was still thinking, that Burner had turned at the end of his statement with a haymaker. Everyone has a plan until they get hit in the face, so Quill once more stepped inside Burner’s powerful but telegraphed punch, and rather than attempt another rabbit punch that the stout man had ignored, he re-broke Burner’s nose with his forehead. He saw light on impact, but Burner was reeling. When your opponent was disoriented was the time for haymakers, not when they were braced for a trap, and Quill landed a punch to Burner’s right orbital.

  The quietly observing corner of his mind noted that the men with crossbows were at the ready, despite his hands having stayed well away from his foil. He followed up with a southpaw swing across Burner’s jaw, long legs closing the gap between him and the reeling Burner. He was angry. He was very angry. Burner had harassed him, though he couldn’t recall details. He had harassed Denouement, but that too was hazy in his mind. The words that came to him were “species traitor” but he had no idea what they meant or why Burner represented them to him. Before Burner could rise from his fours, Quill laced his fingers and slammed them into the back of his head.

  Then he dropped, a crossbow bolt passing over his head, and pulled Burner up in front of himself, putting the man’s bulk between him and the best shot of one of the crossbow-bearing men in the room. As he stood, he didn’t know what to do about the one behind him, but as a bolt whistled past his head he heard a scream. Denouement stood in the corner at his back, and he would later learn she had neatly severed tendons in the man’s wrist with a stiletto dagger. Painful, disabling, but easily remedied by a competent earth sorcerer. Figuring all semblance of peace was lost, Quill drew his rapier awkwardly with his left hand and held the thin, sharp blade against Burner’s neck. “We’re leaving. He lost the duel, and then you interfered. That’s a crime. Pity we won’t be pressing charges.” Why won’t we? “But we’re going to leave, and I’ll deposit this waste of clay on the stairs as we go. Alive.” Burner was stirring, and Quill bludgeoned him with the heavy basket hilt of his rapier.

  Evidently leaving peacefully was not something the men in the room were agreeable to, because everyone advanced on the staircase. Quill continued to drag Burner, while Denouement wreaked havoc on the pugilists with her dagger. She had cleared a path in the time it took Quill to drag Burner to the foot of the staircase. He threw the man at the nearest thug, and the two of them fled the “club.” At the top of the staircase, Denouement laughed at Quill, who didn’t see what was so amusing. Evidently he was sporting a wicked black eye from Burner’s sucker punch, and also he didn’t have to look so surprised that she had acquitted herself so well in a fight. After all, in her line of business, she trailed off after the word business. She concentrated on something for a moment, and Quill felt a bristle of unease. Denouement resumed her sentence, saying that in her line of business one had to work alone and face uneven odds every time a plan went all to Hell, and every plan goes wrong sooner or later. Quill laughed at the truism, ignored vague unease at what she was saying, and felt the adrenaline rush in his veins as a manic smile stretched across his face. His grin only grew wider as Denouement kissed his cheek, bidding him a good afternoon. Seeing as she had disabled three brutes with nothing but her dagger, he trusted her safety, but he wondered about his own as he tried to recall where to find an earth sorcerer.