"Lord Garamant?"

  "I’m listening, Romenford."

  "I hope this conversation is confidential. I repeat: no one else must know what is kept in your mansion. For Aktos’ sake, be more careful! The secret services are already watching you because you didn’t evacuate from the city, despite the enormous risk. Everyone knows: one mistake—and no one survives. And you, such an influential figure, are gambling everything… That makes people suspicious!"

  "You’ve said this three times now, Archmage," the patron said casually, leaning back in his chair and sipping wine from a goblet. "Pour yourself some, don’t be shy… You have no idea what else might be in my house. And those things guarantee my complete safety. I assure you, I’ve thought of everything. If I couldn’t cut every tie and vanish, I’d be gone already. But I feel confident."

  "That feeling could be misleading."

  "If this is your way of trying to learn whether I know alternative escape routes from the city—yes, I do. But I won’t tell anyone. You’re right about one thing: I’ve put everything on the line, because even if we lose, the risk is enormous anyway. But I know I’ll make it through unharmed, and that’s something. For that, I’m willing to stay behind and keep watch over what happens in this god-cursed city."

  "So you truly haven’t trusted anyone?"

  "No. But we’re talking about a very big prize. Huge. The game is worth the candle… Not another word, Romenford! Not one. Just enjoy my warmth and wine. I know mages and scholars are on rations, a clear sign of how little they’re loved. So make the most of my hospitality. While there’s still wine and firewood."

  Romenford took a draw from his pipe.

  "Quite right."

  ***

  "Who are you?" Viggo asked directly as he approached her.

  She sat cross-legged on the windowsill, seemingly on the edge of falling into the moonlit snow below that blanketed gardens, parks, and the residential quarters. The room was nearly dark. They were saving candles.

  "What does it matter?" Joanna didn’t turn to face him.

  "It matters."

  "Well, I think it doesn’t. We’re united by a common cause. Everything else is nonsense. I don’t ask about you, you don’t ask about me…"

  "…and yet you know everything about us," said Rita dully from her chair. "And we know nothing about you."

  "My name is Joanna. I’m from Boreain, and I’m a member of the Cassian Order. Satisfied?"

  "More!" said Rita. "More! First of all, I want to know what you mean by ‘common cause.’ And how do we know you won’t betray us the moment you get what you’re after? I asked Dalid about you. He said no one in the Order knows where you came from, who brought you in, or what you did before. And Kairu and Woody were with you when the raid struck, even though you were supposed to help them escape. What do you say to that?"

  "You have to trust me," Joanna said softly, sighing. "But I understand your concern. This world is built on lies, nothing can be trusted. I don’t trust you either. But we have no choice but to work together. Rita’s drawn an excellent map of the house, but none of you know how to break into mansions, and Woody is dead. I don’t want to go into my past, there’s nothing to be proud of. I was a thief. Breaking into mansions is what I do. I can help you get inside and retrieve what you need, on the condition that everything else we find is mine."

  "Still…" Viggo began, but Joanna raised a finger.

  "Twelve o’clock, ladies and gentlemen. If we want to stick to the plan and get what we want, we move now. We’re not going to let Kairu and Woody’s sacrifice be in vain, are we? Are you with me?"

  "Well, we started this…" Viggo muttered and waved a hand. "Hell, it’s too late to back down now."

  "I agree," said Joanna.

  She let her legs drop, slid silently down from the sill, and only the silver buckles on her boots caught the moonlight. "Let’s go."

  ***

  They moved through the darkened city streets, hiding at the first glint of a patrol’s torchlight, avoiding open and well-lit places where lanterns still glowed at night. The snow was frozen into a slick crust, the sky was clear and starless, not a single snowflake fell. The cold was bitter. Remiz shivered, Rita trembled a little, pulling her cloak tighter. Only Joanna remained calm, leading them along the route she’d previously scouted.

  They descended into the dark of the slums and "bad neighborhoods," passing buildings with only the occasional dim light in a window, a couple of taverns, storage facilities, and a cramped sprawl of poor housing. Joanna idly toyed with the hilt of her dagger. Rita thought she might even be whistling, despite the unease that gripped them all.

  "This isn’t your first time doing something like this, is it?" Rita asked.

  "Of course not," Joanna replied lazily. "Otherwise, I wouldn’t take such a risk. In some fields, I can call myself a professional without false modesty… But the whole thing could collapse from one team misstep. And here’s our mansion." She pointed to a building within a garden, surrounded by a metal fence, all fa?ades facing narrow and filthy streets. "As you can see, classic bad taste, and no sense of style. The design goal seems to be to cram in as many expensive toys as possible."

  The mansion loomed before them, but Joanna veered away and casually walked down the street past ornate entrances of houses belonging to merchants, bankers, and aristocrats. Most windows were boarded up. But in the elaborate three-story mass that belonged to Lord Garamant, lights were still on.

  "He’s awake," Joanna whispered. "But that’s no obstacle. Lamps in the parlor, the rest of the rooms are empty. This is the spot. One last step."

  She raised her hand, made several light gestures in the air, eyes closed, fingers forming a complex symbol. A crimson spark flickered between them. Moments later, identical sparks appeared above the fence’s spiked tips around the perimeter, floating and shimmering.

  Joanna nodded in satisfaction without opening her eyes and made another series of passes. The red lights turned green.

  She pressed her palms together and opened her eyes. "Just as I thought," she said. "Magical alarm system. I’ve disabled it. Now we can proceed with a very traditional method, one that still gets results. Over the fence we go, ladies and gentlemen."

  Viggo chuckled. Joanna looked around, spat on her hands, and grabbed onto the wrought-iron patterns of the fence. She climbed up with the agility of a cat, scaled all the way to the top, carefully swung herself over the sharp spikes, and dropped softly into the hedges below. She waved her hand and tiptoed closer to the house. Viggo followed, groaning as he climbed. The fence shook under his weight, but he, showing unexpected dexterity, made it to the top, let out a quiet gasp, caught on something, and rolled over to the other side. Rita and Remiz got over the fence at the same time, though not as gracefully as Joanna, but silently, without attracting attention.

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  "Quiet now," Joanna whispered, sneaking along the shadows of the slightly swaying trees toward the house wall, under the darkest windows. The entire first floor was barred with iron grilles. "Everyone remember what to do? Viggo, wait here and keep an eye on the street. Try to give some kind of signal if a patrol shows up. Wait for Remiz. Rita, you’re with me."

  She glanced around, quietly approached a tree growing right near the windows, pulled herself up, and climbed along the branches toward the second-floor windows. Viggo sighed as he watched her carefully scrape something across the glass, slide her hand into the opened hole, and unlock the window halfway.

  "Remiz!"

  The Nocturn calmly climbed after her. He came up beside her, held the window frame as she worked the latches with a spell, lubricated the hinges, and slowly swung her leg inside. He supported her, gave a signal to Rita, who climbed in after them. She waved to Viggo, then clambered in through the window with some effort. The Kald nodded and turned away, keeping watch on the street. He made sure no one was watching him, and only then did he allow himself to sit down; he could no longer bear the trembling in his knees. His pride wouldn't let him admit it even to himself.

  ***

  Rita glanced around, quietly shutting the window behind her. A chilling draft rushed into the room, stirring the drapes and curtains, rattling the rounded wine glasses and porcelain sets displayed in an open cabinet. A luxurious lacy chandelier hung from the ceiling. A tall, slightly ajar door led into the hallway, and across from them, near a dressing table and vanity, stood a wide bed. The floor and walls were covered with embroidered carpets, and in the corners of the room stood lamps made of tarnished brass and silver candlesticks with melted stubs of wax.

  "Rita, do you think this is his bedroom?"

  "I don’t think so. Everything’s too tidy. More likely, it’s for guests."

  "We need to find his personal space," Joanna said.

  On tiptoe, she crept to the door, clicked the lock, cracked it open, and cautiously peeked outside. She slowly stepped out onto a balcony that wrapped around the perimeter of a tall, dark hall, with candles burning at the doors. She leaned carefully on the railing, glanced around. In the flickering candlelight, faint outlines of frescoes and paintings loomed on the walls. Voices drifted up from the slightly open door below, along with a sliver of light that fell across the floor.

  "Let’s go," Joanna said quietly.

  After closing the door behind them and carefully erasing any trace of the break-in, they stepped out onto the balcony that ran around the vast entrance hall. Stealthily, they crept down the corridor where Glett had once led Rita to the reception hall. At last, they reached the doors beneath the arch, behind which muffled voices could be heard. Rita crouched and peered through the keyhole. She could see a corner of a firelit drawing room, the edge of an armchair turned with its back to the intruders. Someone sat there, smoking a pipe. Opposite him sat another person, his face hidden in shadow.

  "…this will cost a lot of money. You know yourself how much Nubel spent on the expedition to the Lake of Aktida. This situation is even more complicated, because now we’re talking about a search in Vaimar. Thirty years ago, it might have been possible: diplomacy was in a much better state. But now, I’m afraid if such an expedition crosses the border, within a couple of weeks the Vaimar Academy of Sciences will know about it, and it will spark an international scandal. We’re already disputing ownership of the Lake of Aktida…"

  "But Nubel managed everything in complete secrecy," replied the one smoking the pipe in a relaxed tone. Rita recognized the voice of Lord Garamant. "Admittedly, it was a very elegant operation. I understand he had excellent assistants. I even tried to hire them, but they turned out to be far too loyal. But surely, Romenford, you must have reliable people who could pull off something similar? Money, as you know, is not an issue."

  "What you’re asking for falls into a legal grey zone," Romenford said. "Nubel and his men had no qualms about using forged documents, black market suppliers, and other such tricks. But let’s not forget that the expedition took place in Aktida, no matter how hard Jake Farian tried to argue otherwise. Vaimar is under the jurisdiction of entirely different institutions. If you’re asking whether I have trustworthy people who can do something like this in Vaimar? I must say, I’m not ready to give you an answer. I need to think it over and consult my colleagues at the Arctarium. And the fact that we’re at war with pirates certainly doesn’t help these kinds of initiatives…"

  "What’s inside?" Joanna whispered. "Do we want to go in there?"

  "There’s another door," Rita replied, "which leads deeper into the house. I think if there’s any route to his personal quarters, it’s beyond that door."

  "…just between us, Romenford. But rest assured, I wouldn’t trouble you over a trifle. It’s the same thing that Petros, Nubel, and Saelin’s expedition was after thirty years ago. That mission failed, but now we have a much better chance. If it works, we’ll have excellent leverage in negotiations with Saelin."

  "By the way, maybe it would make sense to involve someone else from that expedition?" asked the archmage.

  "Almost all of them are already dead, Romenford."

  "Petros? He was seen this summer in the Southern Province… Maclevirr is looking for him now."

  "He won’t agree. No, Petros is a very dangerous man, someone best avoided. He’s the reason the first Derelz expedition failed. He’s a fanatic, and to be honest, I’d feel much safer if Maclevirr caught him and put him on the gallows."

  "All right. But surely there’s someone else?"

  "There’s only one person I know for sure is alive. A woman, not an archaeologist, but someone who wanted experience working on professional expeditions. A rather ambiguous figure, the first of her kind, since she’s the only one to have ever received the Academy of Sciences’ Grand Magical Prize in Alchemy at the age of nineteen. You know who I mean, don’t you? Now known as the Countess of Onklag, Lady Ashley Nielder. I tried to reach out to her, but she’s locked herself away in her estate and refuses to see me. If you have any leverage over her, Romenford, it could be useful."

  "She’s retired," the archmage replied thoughtfully. "She won’t talk to me either. But I can dig up her file. Maybe I can put pressure on her through her children or grandchildren…"

  Rita remembered the name. And the county. She had no doubt that this might be the very thread that would lead them to the mystery of the first expedition.

  "We’ll have to hide somewhere until they finish talking," said Joanna. "Breaking in while the archmage is there is a bad idea: together, they’ll be stronger than us, and we don’t want to cause a brawl. The guards could arrive at any moment, and if Romenford is involved, the Fighters' Guild will show up soon enough."

  Rita looked around. A short, narrow corridor led to the left.

  "Shall we try hiding in one of the rooms and wait?"

  "Good idea."

  They approached the nearest door, and Joanna inserted a lockpick into the keyhole. The lock was simple; in a few seconds, it clicked, and the three intruders slipped inside.

  It was a bedroom, not the master’s, but not for the lower staff either. Shelves lined the walls with small books, mugs, and porcelain figurines, all jumbled together. On the desk were several ink bottles and quills. Remiz carefully removed one of the wall sconces, shielded the flame with his hand, and opened a dresser drawer with the other. Inside the first drawer were papers, long scrolls listing income and expenses. The second drawer contained keys, neatly organized by room number.

  Suddenly, Joanna hissed, and all three froze, chilled. Quiet footsteps were heard outside the door. Remiz motioned for them to stand next to the door in such a way that whoever entered wouldn’t see them immediately. The steps reached the room and paused. A moment later, the door slowly creaked open, and Glett entered.

  Remiz didn’t give him a chance to react. He leapt up and struck the back of Glett’s head, sending him crashing into the wall. Glett collapsed onto the bedding with a dull thud. Remiz instantly stuffed a rag soaked in sleeping potion into his mouth, shoved his face to the floor, and tied his hands. The guard twitched a few times and then lay still, breathing heavily. Everything had happened in complete silence. Rita hurriedly shut the door and slid the bolt into place. Remiz turned to examining the keys.

  "Just room numbers," he said. "No markings…"

  Suddenly, a small bell on the desk rang softly. All three froze again. Glett stirred on the bed and moaned.

  "Garamant is summoning him," guessed Rita, glancing at the guard. "Maybe it’s time to escort the guest out?"

  The bell rang a few more times. The intruders waited tensely, motionless. In the utter silence, Rita thought her heartbeat was too loud against her ribs, and she tried taking deep breaths to calm her pulse. Then, voices came from behind the bedroom door.

  "Thank you for the conversation, Archmage. We’ve had a great deal of wine, but we’ve also learned much about each other. I’ll be in touch now and then. And please, let me know as soon as possible regarding my proposal about Vaimar. If you say you can’t help me—well, I’ll have to start making new plans."

  "Of course, Garamant. I’ll do all I can. Good night."

  "Here’s your coat… I’ll see you to the gate. That scoundrel Glett should be here to assist our guests, but he’s disappeared. Tomorrow, I’ll have to threaten him with dismissal..."

  Footsteps echoed from the reception room, down the stairs, away from the room where the intruders were hiding.

  "This is our chance," said Joanna. "Let’s go."

  They quietly opened the door and dashed to the archway leading to the reception hall.