Lirssa tapped the screen of her tablet. The image fluttered as it changed to the next screen of text. Her eyes stung. Reading by the shifting street lights that reached into the carriage strained her eyes.

Mister Antonio's support in her plan had been a surprise and more than she hoped. Having the carriage made it easier to stay on top of her reading for school and still track down hints to Zahra's abduction.

At least that much she had confirmed. The dragon-loving witness had been a great deal more sensible when Lirssa returned with one of the body guards, Mister Tristan, was at her back. At the carriage, Mister Tristan fills the role of footman, but he certainly added the needed leverage to get the witness to talk. Lirssa didn't know what he did, but a single movement behind her and the witness sent his pet dragon back and he talked.

It wasn't much, but she now knew for certain Zahra had been the one taken. It was the car she needed to follow now. There were just enough of such contraptions rolling about the region to make things difficult. A difficulty that distracted Lirssa's thoughts from her studies.

She read the page twice more before she simply shut it off and set it in her bag. It was late -- later than she wished to keep her parents at ease. The night before had made her wonder, question, but she still had not told them. Nor did she hide she was going out, but she often did that. If they asked, she would answer, she decided. That had turned the guilt down, if only enough for her to keep going. And keep going she intended to do as long as she could. That meant finding out about the car.

Crawling to the window that opened behind the driver, she pulled it open to a gust of cold air. "Mister Andrew, I need to stop by the inn."

He cast over his shoulder to her. "Late, miss, and we should be getting you home."

"Yessir, I know, but just a quick stop. I need to drop off a note."

"Right you are."

She warbled her thanks, shut the window again, and sat back down. Rummaging through her bag, she found classic and comfortable paper and pen to write her note. There was one person she knew might set her on the right path.

The note was quick. She folded it up to put in her pocket as the carriage made the turn onto the Inn's street. It had been many months since they last spoke. Maybe, she thought, it had been a year. "There's nothin' for it, Lir." She whispered to herself. She had to try.

Alain had a lot of contact with the other brewers and workers at the Silver Mark Brewery in the Temple district, but when he was there, working, he was often alone. It was a good way to focus on his task, enjoy the peace and quiet, clear his mind and -- if he was lucky -- work out one of the problems rolling around in his head.

There were always problems.

It was early in the evening, just after the end of the regular shift, and the Baron was one of three people in the brewery. The others paid him no mind as he checked gauges on a row of tall copper brewing kettles, poured wort into a small glass and took a cautious sniff and a tentative sip.

Lirssa had stewed over the conversation she had to have with Mister Alain. When she had finally found the car, and she knew it was the right one, she had felt a surge of giddy anticipation. She had done it. Without any adults help--well, except Mister Antonio's team--she had found the car that took Zahra. She was on the right path.

Then one of the knights that had worked at High Spires came out of the building. And another. Less familiar faces, but all familiar with each other came and went. She felt her stomach grow cold.

She had not known what to do, and she couldn't confess anything. It was like a loose tooth, painful, aching but the tongue keeps prodding at it, trying to just get it over with but afraid of the greater pain.

In the end, she decided, just like a tooth, she had to yank it out. After school, she turned her path from home to find Mister Alain's brewery. With a hard swallow, she opened the door and went inside.

A woman near the door looked up sharply... and relaxed, by degrees. Alain watched Lirssa in the reflection of his glass for a long moment. Then he drained it, set it on the table and went to a sack in the corner to scoop hops. They were green, sour and pungent. He rolled his sleeves up past his elbows.

Her mittened fingers curled around the messenger bag strap. She was clothed top to bottom in school uniform even to the navy peacoat with the school crest on the breast pocket. "Sorry, miss, just lookin for Mister Alain." Her voice went rough and rusty on the name and the smile felt the same. A nod of her beret topped head in his general direction, permission to approach him asked in that small gesture.

"Go for it, kid," the woman said, and with a little smirk turned away from her and went back to work. Alain was busy, too, sticking to his task in spite of Lirssa's presence. He spoke up, finally: "You wanted to see me about something, Lirssa?"

She crossed the rest of the distance and stopped just out of arms reach. "Yessir, been needin to ask you somethin, or talk or...yeah, just ask somethin, I guess. Get to the meat o' the coconut I guess. Umm, this a good place?" Her mouth twisted sideways as she took a look around. The smell of hops and brew itched her nose.

"Lucas -- Ria," he said. In minutes the other two workers wrapped up their tasks and left; Alain finished his own, turned and leaned against his small work table. "I've got a guess or two what you wanna ask me." His smile was small, and vague, he knew this was a serious topic.

Brows shot upwards at that. He could guess -- or two? She was not quite sure how to take that, and here she had thought she was being all secretive and crafty. It was disappointing. Still, she narrowed her eyes on him, and she crossed her arms, standing back on one heel trying to look more suspicious than confused. She had no idea if she was pulling it off. "Oh yeah? Well, have your guesses then."

It wasn't a matter of statistics, or even simple arithmetic... he could think of only one thing he'd done recently to get this kind of attention from Lirssa. And it had been in the papers. "Either you're here about the Zeppa job... or you're concerned about your cousin, Zahra."

There was no sense in being grousy, and since he knew, she just came out with it. "Where is she? Is she okay? What'd ya do with her?" And there was a why in there, too, but by that time her teeth were starting to clench together with the anger at his high handedness. That was it. High handed. How dare he kidnap Zahra? It nearly shouted out of that look at him.

He studied her before he answered; his lips were thin, his expression level. "Right now she's in a townhouse in Teobern, staying there comfortably, under her own power, and free to come and go as she pleases, or leave the Barony altogether. I needed her help laying a trap for Alexander Shade, and when I asked her, she agreed. Without her we couldn't have killed him."

He folded his arms like hers. "It needed to look like a kidnapping, and may still, because of what her family might do to her if they find out the truth. If they find out I'm responsible, and think I abducted her..." He shook his head. "They'll try to kill me. It'll be little different than what I face every day. But if they ever know she volunteered... she'll be in great danger."

She processed it all. It took her some time to wander the convoluted avenues of adult thinking sometimes, and this was one of those times. The name of that Shade put her in motion. She rocked back and forth on her feet, thinking until she came around to. "Whatcha gonna do?"

"I don't know," he said, truthfully. "Where she goes from here... it's entirely up to her. Whatever choice she makes, we'll do our best to help her, if we can. For now she's staying in Teobern, and..." There was a very Gallic shrug. "...learning."

"Can ya get a message to her?"

"Of course."

"Tell her I looked for her. Tell her I do care." The last conversation she had with Zahra still haunted her; had sent her on the quest. And then it struck her and she blinked. "What should I do? Do you think they know I was looking? If I stop looking will that mean somethin? Should I keep lookin pretendin I haven't found anything?" The panic that she had ruined everything now made her chest feel tight.

"They won't make anything of it," he said, unfolding his arms to put a hand up. "If they find me now, they were already bound to, sooner or later. And I'll tell her. I'll tell her that you looked... you found... and you care."

He dropped his hand. "But I've got a question for you, too."

A slow release of breath, she closed her eyes and then she nodded. It was only fair after all. She had asked him a bushel of questions. She was due to give over a few answers herself. Opening her eyes, she looked back up at him. "Yessir?"

"How did you find me?"

She looked around the shop, and then she realized. "You mean the car? My old street kid friends. Jeb didn't see it, but he heard some other kids talkin about it. I spoke to them, made a few deals." She pulled off her mittens a moment, her hands were sweating. "Tried to speak with one of my ole friends and see if he could search, but that sorta went kerploof. Finally, with them all lookin and me too, found the building where it was parked. Recognized a few of the knights."

"And then you came here to confront me." It wasn't accusatory; his eyes were narrowed, but there was a smile, too. He paused. "...Your school have a spy apprenticeship program or anything?"

"Umm," twisting her ankle, setting toe to ground and ankle outward, "I don't think so." Her shoulders shrugged up and she looked up at him feeling a bit sheepish.

He grinned. "Maybe you should look into it. You could make a very dangerous spy someday... and I mean that as a compliment."

She snickered and shook her head. "Thanks, Mister Alain, but I don't know. Like honesty too much, I guess." With a deep sigh, she set her feet flat on the ground again and adjusted the satchel strap to her shoulder once more before pulling on her mittens again. "Thanks, Mister Alain, I mean...for helpin her, I guess that's what ya did. You be careful, though."

"I'll try." He moved to walk with her to the door. "Gotta tell you something, though... that date auction, recently?"

"Yeah?" She paused at the door.

"Someone bought a date with me... someone you know." He handed her a note, a nice letter that he'd been keeping in his pocket and had read many times since receiving it, if its worn state was any indication. It read as follows:

Lord DeMuer,

It is my understanding that under the agreed-upon terms of the charity auction held on 29 January, my donated funds secured an evening's worth of your time. I am not as young as I was and prefer quieter pastimes, these days. Accordingly, I have found the chef at the rooftop restaurant at the Carlton Hotel in New Haven to be very agreeable in his use of ingredients and methods of preparation. Perchance we could meet there for dinner, and enjoy a glass of brandy and civil discussion afterward. I have worked toward building an acceptable stock of liqueurs and the like in my home cellar. You will find it, I am sure, much more welcoming than you did during your previous pilferage.

RSVP at your earliest convenience with a date and time that is accommodating to your most active schedule. If my proposal does not suit, I trust you will have no qualms in submitting a substitute.

I wish you joy in your upcoming nuptials and prosperity in your institutional endeavors, and I very much look forward to hearing from you. Until then I remain,

Your most humble servant,
Saif Khoury, MD


She read over it, mostly skipping to the signature. "Oh wretch." Some choicer words came to mind, but she let them rattle up there and not out of her mouth. "That's gonna be a heck of a date." She offered the note back to him. "Can't welsh on it. You let my dad know?"

"Not yet, but I will. I only got the letter recently... when his name was announced at the auction weeks ago, thought it might be a sick joke." His lips twisted. "I'm not so lucky... but, I'll manage.

"If you see Ali soon, please, let him know." He skimmed back over the letter, as if he could have missed some telling detail, and tucked it away again.

"I will." She set her hand on the door, and then looked up. "Sorry for thinkin you'd gone all bibbledy and evil, Mister Alain. Thanks for talkin with me about it." As so few adults would do.

"Sorry for keeping secrets -- it's no one else's fault if it makes people think I'm bibbledy and evil," he added with a fresh grin. "Take care and be safe... Agent Sarengrave."

(from live play with many thanks to Alain's player)