My family's representative, Sisa, came with good news: there was now significant pressure on the High Court to speed my trial along, and we should probably see an arraignment within two more weeks. Considering that I added whole shitload more charges to the docket when I broke out of prison, that's not surprising. Also, I think they're still scrambling to find out what I did while I was out. They've got me pinned to some major events, a huge robbery and a massacre, so when I fled custody and then came back afterwards, I'm sure they suspected that there was one more crime to commit. So now someone is going through every unsolved crime of the past week to find the one that has my fingerprints.

  They might manage to connect me to the loss of the Glorious Curmudgeon. It might not have most of my hallmarks on it, but it does bear my most significant signature: It is bafflingly weird. Finding a ship full of pirates that died just a day outside of shore, all felled by a mysterious illness that killed them all within minutes without any sign before or after- well that seems to fit in with mysterious explosions and fires at an ironworks, a mysterious explosion at a magic shop, and a mysterious explosion at a major bank. So, this was mysterious, but they're still looking for the explosion.

  Fwatta gives good advice.

  I sent word to my mother and father- if you receive an offer to buy me out or to settle this with "restitutions", do not jump at it. The duchy comes first, and giving up land or large amounts of money was going to hurt a lot of people. And if I can get myself out of this trouble, it will be unnecessary. They were both very eager to see me freed, their little girl was languishing in jail after all. Having me caged up two weeks travel away was hard for them. Nobody would look me in the eye when they said that Nathan was just as desperate to have me back. "Well I'm sure he is of course," the family's agent said with a great deal of projected confidence. "He's your brother after all!"- which meant that she assumed but did not know.

  I was making plans how to get myself out of this situation. And "daddy's money" was one of my last-ditch plans.

  She promised to stay closely in touch, reachable through Gedes at any time.

  But then there was the Baroness Grancine. Her visit was early the next day, she had taken my offer of the earliest possible appointment quite at my word and was in before dawn, wearing a full ball gown, makeup, pinned hairdo, and a variety of odd hand props to keep herself busy- a fan, a parasol, gloves to fidget with. She was a vision in satin and ribbons, bustling through the door in a massive bell skirt. I was badly underdressed, but only for a few seconds.

  Silk, silver, cotton, leather- I wreathed myself in fabrics and precious metals and I was dressed for a full gala event before she and I had even exchanged curtsies. She went first; I'm still technically an earl or countess. "Baroness Grancine, a pleasure to make your acquaintance," I said, and then moved to sit in the armchair I had moved over near my dividing windows. We could speak easily through the bank-teller windows, they were only intended to keep me from wriggling out, and to allow me to comfortably speak with visitors.

  "Lady Natalie," she said, as Gedes brought a chair from the anteroom for her to sit. "Most kind of you to receive me."

  Up close, she was manic. Her makeup was not concealing a couple of facial tics and twitches, her hands moved from one distraction to another, her smile jumped around too much. Her eyes were wide and a little glazed, and she sniffled slightly but often, like she had maybe found some drugs recently and gotten rid of them to keep them safe from children. Her heel tapped at the floor in a quick rhythm.

  "Baroness, I want you to know that you are my first social caller, and my first society caller," I told her. "I have none other scheduled for at least forty-eight hours."

  Or translated: here's our exclusive if you want it, you will get a chance to scoop every other gossip in town.

  "Most kind of you to say so, my lady," she said with a rictus grin. Too much energy in small gestures. "It appears circumstance has placed you in the role of the debutante rather ahead of your time- normally a girl is fourteen or fifteen when she is presented as a public peer, but you are now so well known that your coming-out is all but official. And that means that you are now in the public perception, and no minor cause of conversation!"

  Her shoes were badly scuffed, but new and well-made. She had been very active in them since the last time they were shined- she had been out dancing all night long. She was coming to me off the back of an all-hours afterparty. That's why the pre-dawn meeting.

  "Yes, Baroness, I do see your vision of events," I said, nodding.

  The fan snapped open, fluttered in front of her mouth. "So, have you given thought to your public image? I believe the most natural fit would either be 'promising ingénue driven by tragedy to become mad-dog killer', or 'highborn lady from the provinces is framed for unrelated crimes as part of a power play'. Both are very compelling narratives."

  "Perhaps, but they do both rather cast me as a victim being manipulated by larger events," I pointed out. "I'd rather my reputation included more agency."

  She brightened, and the fan fluttered faster. "Oh do tell? I had rather thought that trying to play to public sympathies would be a given, considering one's age and obscurity. Any presumption of agency or intention would greatly reduce the possibility of charitable sympathy, you realize. A vast difference in reception between 'a babe in the woods dragged to the harshness of the big city to stand trial for crimes not her own', or 'a babe in the woods being victimized publicly by magistrates after terrible tragedy struck her home', as opposed to 'premeditated killer unrepentantly stands trial'. All things considered, you may consider one of the former. The scandaleers do love a good mad-dog killer."

  "Could we try 'thorn in the side of a hidden conspiracy exacting vengeance for wrongs done'?"

  She snapped the fan shut, and tapped her chin with it. "Depends," she said after a second. "What's the conspiracy."

  "I cannot say. Revealing them would endanger my family."

  She shook her head. "Won't work. You cannot allege a conspiracy and not give the audience a tasty scapegoat to tear into. May I suggest the artisan guilds? They are rather unpopular these days."

  I considered this. "I appreciate your advice. I may have to stay my own course here, however. Perhaps not the best-advised path, but I cannot see myself deviating from it."

  "If you must, you must," she said sagely. "If I may turn us to another subject, my lady?" She did not come here to discuss my legal problems, after all...

  "By all means, Baroness."

  "Your music," she said, leaning in. She almost looked hungry. "Do you intend to keep working at it?"

  I smiled for her. "I have so many new ideas," I assured the woman.

  She had gloves on, I have no idea if her knuckles went white. But she was clutching the parasol tightly enough. "I see," she said, and shivered all over. "I must say, I know a great many composers who are well-connected and well-known, but have been lacking for inspiration lately. And there is a certain fashion right now for music that takes unusual themes. Nobody seems to do it as well as you do though, your mind is..."

  She actually did the chef's kiss. Like for real.

  "Now, we may have difficulty filling an audience hall if your name is on the handbill," Baroness Grancine admitted.

  "No trouble," I said. "Have the standard author's percentage placed in an account for my legal defense, and any of your friends may sign their names to it."

  She flushed under her rouge. "Obviously the important thing is that the music gets out there," she said, fervently. "My lady, to presume- do you know much of my House? Tarratan?"

  "I've been well read on history," I said. "Your house was a house of warriors, proud and lonely. You stood against many threats, but when they were weakened the Eyellon House surrounded them, and nearly slaughtered all of them. The survivors fled to Bismoque, and were taken in by the Pinking House, where you have rebuilt, grown, and established yourself as a Lesser House."

  "One could argue," she said to me, "that the Eyellon's hold over Hearstwhile comes from their hold over the culture and the soft power that brings. Over the past century, Tarratan has made a point of building connections in the arts, in society, in culture. And we believe that by out-competing, out-innovating, and out-performing in those fields, we can make Eyellon obsolete, and take that power from them. After that, one day soon, to strip them of their duchy and relegate them from power, to crush them mercilessly!" Her silk-gloved fist closed, knuckles crackling. The tension in her arm quivered.

  She was dressed for a fancy society ball. Her ancestors were highland berserkers. I could tell.

  "And so you are interested in my work," I said, leading to the point.

  Her smile was sunny. "We would be most happy to promote your work as far and wide as possible. It is remarkable, every single composition seems to bring some new innovation that rocks Eyellon to its core and shows them to be staid and stale. Their stock in the public sphere drops with every production season. We cannot be seen to actively support you while you are on trial.. and my branch of the family has little material resources to compensate you. Aside, as you've said, to hold your earnings for you where they will be available to you and only you."

  "That's more than any other offer I've gotten," I said. "And I would be happy to add my creative efforts to help us both."

  "Splendid! Oh, I'm such a fan! I was worried that you would lose your inspiration trapped in this musty walls!" she gestured about to the lavishly appointed chambers. "Why, you've already done so much! That delightful Mountain King! You've redrawn the lines of everything we knew of tempo. What a foundational change that was! And the key changes! Minor-key leitmotif! The use of explosions as an instrument!"

  "That reminds me," I mused aloud. "How would one go about scoring for the sound of a saber loudly drawn from a scabbard?"

  "You're composing for sabers!?" she was fascinated again. "What is it called?"

  "Paper Planes," I chuckled. "You'll like it. But I will need a great deal of ruled composition paper, if that may be asked."

  She nodded. "I will have it ordered to your quarters before I sleep next. What else do you require?"

  "At this time, nothing more than your continued support," I said. "Please do send a card to Gedes if you seek to call on me again, or I will have a card sent to your staff if I have anything that may not be committed to a letter."

  We made some goodbyes, she fluttered on out and I had a lot to think about. I would like to have powerful friends and support from the other Houses. Tarratan was a minor house but it was well-loved by its sponsor, Pinking, which was a staunch ally of Harigold. So my disruptive arts could bring me some allies that not only are well-inclined to my House, but also that have a lot more sway here in the capitol. Meadowtam is a very large duchy, and very prosperous, but the Harigold family has almost no presence in Hearstcliff.

  And, this could be beneficial to my long-term plans. I just need to be careful not to do too much, or too little. I can get good returns on establishing myself here, before Nathan arrives, but only up to a point. Eyes on the prize, this is about saving the world after all.

  I had a few hours before the minstrel was due to arrive. I went to a cleared space in my quarters and conjured up a steel frame, leather matting, and brass gears- a crude but usable treadmill. I switched to some workout clothes and started running. I had been running three miles every morning right up until the day I was arrested, the first time. And since then I haven't even jogged a step. Locked in a cage for two weeks, a different cage for two more weeks.. even when I was fighting getting my ass kicked by the sorcerers I never even made it onto my feet, I was flopping and rolling and crawling the whole time. My next visit to Port Noit, I was blending in. My legs ached.

  Besides, I'm in jail. You're supposed to work out when you're in jail.

  The stats in this game, my Strength and Stamina, are hard to raise using anything but leveling. Not impossible though. And I'm a growing girl. If I keep up my training I can easily have both of those pushed up to six or seven by the time I'm fifteen. By the time the game starts.

  If I hit the treadmill and the barbells, I can have my native scores up to at least a five or six, and then add the two points from leveling up.. very doable. It's hard to make plans while I'm still waiting to find out if I'm going to be in prison here or not. There's a chance that in a month I'm going to be back home in Meadowtam. There's a chance that I'll be stuck in this cell forever. There's another chance that I'm going to be set free but... not welcome back in Meadowtam. My parents love me very much.. but in their position they might not be able to afford being associated with me. I could be absolved of all charges but still carry a reputation that is too much of a liability to the family.

  My lungs burned and my feet pounded. Once again, I'm the lucky one here; how many people in this prison have the chance to really work out? The reason prison weightlifting is so popular is because they're not given enough room to do any real cardio. I've got a window with a view, and a treadmill whenever I need it. Hashtag small blessings.

  A half hour before my appointment, I dispelled the running track and headed for the shower. I got the cold water running, and whirlpooled it up over my body, sluiced myself clean, and then ran it down the drain to leave me clean and dry. I manufactured some new clothes, braided my hair, and went to sit down and wait.

  Gedes stepped in presently, announced the head of the minstrel's guild and his assistant, and waved them in.

  And boom, I'm on high alert. Tension all though me all over again. The guild's man was no big deal, but that was no assistant. I stood up, and faced him directly. The guild master paused, awkwardly, holding his hat.

  "Um, I believe I need to allow you two a minute," the guild man said, stepping to a far corner.

  The other man was heavyset, jowly, with hooded eyes and slicked hair. He wore a fanciful purple outfit that should have been jaunty and stylish. He stepped in close to the window, leaned his hands on the counter on top of the half-wall between us, just under the reinforced glass. "Lady Natalie Harigold," he said, clicking the syllables off slowly.

  I stepped in near, making sure the minstrel was too far to hear us. "House Uncin," I pronounced, nodding. "You're here about Kralcit."

  He stared at me. "They said you were too clever by half. I doubted them. But now I know that you're really stupid. You know who I'm with and why I'm here, and you still took that swing at us? Provoked us, on purpose?"

  "I dd nothing of the sort," I said. "I pushed back. Your woman moved on my family. She took dozens of people as close as blood, so I did the same. She destroyed a treasure more precious than gold, so I took away her gold. I almost died, I picked one of her allies to almost die. I lost my home, she lost one of her homes. This was what was earned and not a step further."

  He glared at me, sizing me up. I was nearly a foot shorter than him, the sizing didn't take long. He grunted and spoke. "I say the word you die in here. Any time day or night."

  "Then I think we're both very reliant on what the other one does not say," I said.

  He worked his jaw, thinking. "You know enough to hurt us, yeah. So if you keep-"

  "I know enough to ruin you," I corrected. "I know that you have delved too greedily and too deeply. I know what you found. And what you intend to do with them."

  He shook his head. "If that were true you'd've-" He was already starting to bluster.

  "You misunderstand," I said. "I need you to do it. It's reprehensible, and your whole House is wretched for even considering this. But I'm not going to stop you."

  He stopped, and eyeballed me again. He let out a breath, and pulled back in. "Awright. Let's start from scratch. How do you do, I'm Mister Wall. You are Natalie Harigold."

  "How do you do."

  "Very well thank you. It appears that your interests and the interests of one of our associate members have recently come at odds, Lady Harigold. This has created unfortunate losses."

  "Yes it has. Your associate should content herself with keeping business matters in a business sphere. Some push and pull in trade routes and market share is one thing. But she attempted to shortcut her work by taking the business conflict to a personal place. I returned in kind, to a calculated degree. She and I are now even. If she continues her business within the business sphere, I do not anticipate any more conflicts for at least three years."

  "That's an interesting timeframe to choose," he said carefully.

  "That is the point at which I lose the ability to anticipate the variables," I told him. "We can renegotiate at that time."

  "Is that what you are looking for? Renegotiation?"

  "I wanted to be left in peace. That was denied me. I wanted to send a message. I sent it. If we need more contact, I think negotiation is a good place to start."

  "It may be difficult to convince some parties that this is more advantageous than taking direct and simple action."

  I nodded. "I have written letters. In the event of my demise they are to be read."

  "And like that, we have our understanding," he said, nodding. He took a beret from his pocket, dusted it on his leg, and used it to touch his brow before he turned and walked to the door, unfolding the foppish hat and fitting it to his head.

  I know that this is my real signature move. Dead-man switches, expiration letters. I killed a shipful of pirates by creating food and then getting rid of it at just the right time. My void-attacks work by compressing air and matter until I release them catastrophically. My danger to others is not what I'm doing, it's when I stop doing it.

  In this case, breathing.

  I waved the minstrel over. "Good morning sir. Thank you for bringing this messenger with you. I would like to discuss business with you."