The University District smelled like old books and ambition. Big Bad Wolf (Mr. Biggins, for this particur visit) walked through the narrow streets with a leather satchel slung over his shoulder. Inside, carefully wrapped, were two bottles of Silverleaf Elf Ale. The expensive kind. The kind that cost more per bottle than most people made in a month.

  Red had done good work. Three days of casual reconnaissance, posing as a student interested in magical theory, and she'd come back with a complete profile on Professor Aldous Thrane. Specialist in enchanted artifacts. Particur interest in surveilnce magic. Lived alone. Large family. Spent most of his sary on rare books and premium alcohol. Had a weakness for elf ale and women of the feline persuasion; cimed it helped him think.

  And he was lonely. The kind of lonely that came from being brilliant in a field nobody else cared about.

  Perfect.

  Big Bad found the building easily: a narrow townhouse converted into offices and study rooms. Professor Thrane's name was on a brass pte beside a door on the second floor. He knocked.

  "Yes, yes, come in!"

  The office was exactly what Big Bad expected. Books everywhere: stacked on shelves, piled on the floor, covering every avaible surface. A rge desk dominated the center, buried under papers and notebooks and what looked like the components of a disassembled magical artifact. The windows were open, letting in afternoon light that caught the dust motes floating through the air.

  Professor Thrane himself was a thin man in his fifties with wire-rimmed spectacles and ink stains on his fingers. He looked up from whatever he'd been writing, his expression shifting from distracted to curious.

  "Professor Thrane?" Big Bad smiled (the friendly, non-threatening version). "My name is Mr. Biggins. I hope I'm not interrupting, but I was hoping to speak with you about your work."

  "My work?" Thrane set down his pen, interest sharpening in his eyes. "Which aspect?"

  "Surveilnce enchantments. Specifically, magical artifacts that provide ongoing observation capabilities." Big Bad shifted the satchel on his shoulder. "I brought a small gift, if you'll accept it. I understand you appreciate quality elf ale?"

  Thrane's eyebrows rose. "I do. That's... very thoughtful."

  Big Bad opened the satchel and carefully extracted the two bottles, setting them on the one clear corner of the desk. The professor leaned forward, examining the bels, and let out a low whistle.

  "Silverleaf Reserve. This is..." He looked up at Big Bad with something close to wonder. "This is exceptional. How did you know?"

  "A mutual acquaintance mentioned it." Big Bad kept his tone casual. "I thought it might make for a pleasant afternoon conversation."

  "A mutual acquaintance," Thrane repeated, a slight smile pying at his lips. He stood and moved to a small cabinet, extracting two gsses. "Would this acquaintance happen to be a young woman? Pretty thing. Red hood?"

  Ah. He's sharper than he looks.

  "That might be her," Big Bad said easily.

  Thrane chuckled, opening one of the bottles with practiced ease. The rich, floral scent of the ale filled the office. "She came by a few days ago. Asked very thoughtful questions about magical theory. Took notes." He poured generous amounts into both gsses. "She was casing me, wasn't she?"

  Big Bad accepted the offered gss. "I wouldn't say casing..."

  "Please. I'm a schor, Mr. Biggins, not an idiot." Thrane settled back into his chair, taking a long sip of his ale. His expression turned blissful. "Oh, that's good. That's very good." He focused back on Big Bad. "Your friend gathered information about my interests, my schedule, what I like. And now you appear with expensive gifts and questions about surveilnce magic. You're pnning something involving an artifact you need to understand better."

  Big Bad took a drink of his own ale, buying a moment to assess. The professor was being direct. Fine. He could work with that.

  "You're right," Big Bad said. "I am."

  "Good." Thrane grinned. "I appreciate honesty. Also, I don't particurly care what you're pnning. I get to drink excellent ale and talk about my life's work with someone who's actually interested. That's payment enough."

  "Just like that?"

  "Just like that." Thrane leaned back in his chair. "Do you know how rare it is for anyone to care about theoretical magical mechanics? My colleagues think I'm tedious. My students tolerate my lectures because they need the credits. But the actual work (understanding how these enchantments function, their limitations, their potential) nobody cares." He raised his gss. "So yes. Ask your questions, Mr. Biggins. I'm happy to help."

  Big Bad felt a grudging respect for the man. Smart enough to see through the manipution, secure enough not to care.

  "All right then." Big Bad set his gss down. "I'm interested in surveilnce harps. Specifically, the kind allegedly owned by a certain former giant-killer."

  Thrane's eyes lit up. "Jack's harp. Oh, now that's a fascinating piece. Not many people know the full extent of what it can do."

  "What can it do?"

  "Well, the legends say it's omniscient: knows everything happening in its territory. But that's not quite accurate." Thrane took another sip of his ale, clearly enjoying himself. "The truth is more nuanced. The harp functions through a combination of auditory surveilnce and predictive magic. It hears everything within its range, processes that information, and uses pattern recognition to anticipate events."

  "Range," Big Bad said. "How far?"

  "That depends on several factors. The harp's power, the ambient magical energy of the area, and most importantly..." Thrane held up a finger. "Where it's pced. These harps work best when positioned at a central point with clear lines of auditory access. Think of it like..." He gestured with his gss. "Like how sound travels. Walls muffle it. Distance weakens it. The harp can hear approximately a mile in every direction under ideal conditions, but that range drops significantly if there are barriers."

  "What kind of barriers?"

  "Physical ones, primarily. Stone walls reduce its effectiveness. Running water disrupts it: rivers, heavy rain. And magical interference, naturally." Thrane leaned forward, warming to his subject. "But here's what most people don't understand: the harp isn't actually hearing in the traditional sense. It's reading vibrations, interpreting disturbances in the air. Which means..."

  "It can be fooled," Big Bad finished.

  "Exactly!" Thrane pointed at him, delighted. "It's not omniscient. It's incredibly sophisticated, but it has limitations. If you understand how it processes information, you can work around it."

  "How?"

  Thrane tapped his fingers on his desk, thinking. "Several ways. The most obvious is distance: stay outside its range until you're ready to act. The second is interference: create enough noise, enough chaos, and the harp gets overwhelmed trying to process everything. It prioritizes threats, but if there are too many simultaneous disturbances, things slip through."

  "And the third?"

  "Speed and precision." Thrane's expression turned thoughtful. "The harp needs time to interpret what it's hearing and rey that information to its owner. We're talking seconds, but those seconds matter. If you move fast enough, strike hard enough, you can complete your objective before the harp's warning transtes into meaningful action."

  Big Bad absorbed that, his mind already working through applications. "What about false information? Can it be tricked?"

  "In theory, yes. The harp interprets based on patterns. If you establish a pattern (say, several days of harmless activity), it will categorize you as low-threat. Then when you act, there's a dey before it reassesses."

  "How long of a dey?"

  "Minutes, maybe. Enough to get in, but probably not enough to get out cleanly." Thrane drained his gss and immediately poured himself another. "Of course, all of this assumes you're dealing with a standard surveilnce harp. Jack's harp supposedly has additional capabilities: some form of limited precognition, possibly enhanced range. Hard to say without examining it directly."

  "Which I'm obviously not in a position to do."

  "Obviously." Thrane smiled. "But the fundamentals remain the same. It's a tool. Powerful, yes. But not infallible."

  Big Bad sipped his ale, filing away every detail. Distance. Interference. Speed. Pattern disruption. This was exactly what he needed.

  "One more question," Big Bad said. "The harp communicates with its owner. How?"

  "Verbally, in most cases. The harp speaks, the owner listens. Some models have been modified to provide visual information as well (images, scenes), but that requires significant additional enchantment work. Most likely, Jack's harp simply tells him what it perceives."

  "Which means he has to be in range to hear it."

  "Correct. Although..." Thrane paused, considering. "There are rumored to be variants that can project their voice over distance. Send warnings to their owner even if they're miles away. But that would require an enormous amount of power. Very rare."

  "But possible."

  "Possible," Thrane conceded. "Though if Jack had that level of magical sophistication, I'd expect to hear more about it. That kind of enchantment work doesn't go unnoticed in academic circles."

  Big Bad nodded slowly. So the most likely scenario was that Jack needed to be near the harp to receive its warnings. That was valuable information.

  "You've been incredibly helpful, Professor."

  "My pleasure." Thrane was well into his second gss now, his cheeks slightly flushed. "Truly. It's wonderful to discuss this with someone who appreciates the nuance." He paused, then added with a sly smile, "By the way, tell your friend with the red hood I said hello. And if she ever wants to come back and discuss magical theory further, my door is always open. She's quite charming."

  Big Bad kept his expression neutral, though internally he was amused. Red would get a kick out of that.

  "I'll pass along the message."

  "Good, good." Thrane raised his gss in a small salute. "And Mr. Biggins? Whatever you're pnning, be careful. Surveilnce magic can surprise you. Just when you think you've accounted for everything, it finds a way to catch you off guard."

  "I'll keep that in mind." Big Bad stood, leaving his half-finished gss on the desk. "Thank you for your time, Professor. And your expertise."

  "Thank you for the ale. And the stimuting conversation."

  Big Bad let himself out, winding back through the narrow hallways and out onto the street. The afternoon sun was warm on his face as he walked, his mind organizing the information into usable strategies.

  Range: approximately one mile, reduced by barriers.

  Interference: overwhelm it with chaos or use magical disruption.

  Speed: strike fast, don't give it time to process and warn.

  Pattern: establish harmless presence first, then act.

  Communication: Jack likely needs to be near the harp to receive warnings.

  We can work with this.

  He'd need to brief Robin and Red. They'd need to pn the approach carefully, probably get Roslyn in first to establish patterns, create interference at the moment of the actual theft, move with precision once they were committed.

  It was doable. Difficult, but doable.