The palace corridors of White Hold were quieter than they should be. Servants moved quickly, eyes down, speaking in whispers.

  Theron walked with the measured pace of a man who belonged everywhere. Behind him, Eustace the Monk followed with that smooth, professional demeanor that made people trust him immediately.

  A mistake, that trust. But a useful one.

  They descended a narrow staircase to the cellars beneath the palace. Valgarr's temporary chambers—rooms that had once stored wine and preserved goods before the bishop commandeered them for privacy. The door was answered by a young acolyte who bowed deeply and stepped aside.

  Valgarr sat at a desk lit by a brass lamp and several thick candles, documents spread before him. His white robes caught the light and held it. He looked up as they entered, pale eyes assessing.

  “Inquisitor Theron.” His voice was silk over steel. “Eldmere is an unexpected choice. And you’ve brought a guest.”

  "Your Holiness." Theron bowed. "This is Brother Eustace. Captain of the Serpent's Smile. He provided... efficient transport from Myr."

  "Brother Eustace." Valgarr's gaze shifted to the smuggler. "An interesting title for a ship's captain."

  Eustace smiled that polished, friendly smile. "Former monk, Your Holiness. The monastery and I had a difference of opinion regarding certain... interpretations of the holy writings. But the training remains useful. As does the network of contacts one develops in such circles."

  "I'm certain it does." Valgarr gestured to the chairs. "Sit. Tell me what transpired in Myr."

  Theron settled into his seat. "A woman and a dog. The ones spotted near the hyena who attacked the cockatrice king. Brother Eustace, here as well as a guard I’d placed on Myr’s streets informed me they were spotted on the streets of Myr after midnight."

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  Valgarr's fingers steepled. "Tell me more…"

  "They escaped. Barely. A smuggler's ship. I recognized it from the harbor records." Theron confessed.

  “Events rarely unfold as planned,” Valgarr said gently. “Faith adapts.” Valgarr said gently—like a man sharpening a knife. “So what do we owe the pleasure of brother Eustace’s company?”

  Eustace’s eye twitched. That tone had not meant what it sounded like.

  Theron glanced at Eustace. "Brother Eustace was kind enough to provide transport."

  "For a fair price," Eustace added smoothly, but he didn’t feel confident. "The Inquisitor was very persuasive about the urgency of his travel needs."

  "We followed them," Theron continued. "Maintained distance. They made directly for Eldmere. Arrived before us today."

  Valgarr was silent for a moment, processing. "And this ship. Which ship is it and who’s the captain?"

  "The ship’s called The Black Ballad and the Captain seems to be called Thorn, possibly Merren. Currently docked in the harbor. Crew dispersed into the city immediately upon arrival. We were too late" Theron stated.

  Something flickered in Valgarr’s pale eyes. “Not ideal.”

  Eustace shifted slightly. "If I may, Your Holiness—Merren is known in certain circles. Smuggler, opportunist, plays all sides. Not someone who acts from principle. If he's involved, someone paid him well. Or has leverage."

  "Interesting." Valgarr's gaze sharpened on Eustace. "You know him?"

  "We've... crossed paths. He's theatrical. Unreliable. But effective when motivated." Eustace's smile was professional. "I'd be happy to observe him further, if needed. For an appropriate arrangement, of course."

  "Of course." Valgarr returned to his desk. "Theron, continue your surveillance. Brother Eustace, you'll remain available should we need your particular talents. And your ship."

  "At your service, Your Holiness."

  Valgarr stood up and walked to the wall. Studied the bricks of White Hold. Eldmere’s bricks.

  Somewhere in this city, pieces were moving that he could not yet see.

  That would not continue.

  His fingers drummed once on the windowsill.

  Then he returned to his desk and the documents waiting there. Benjamin's signature would be required on these documents. The advisor seemed… reluctant. That wouldn’t matter. If necessary, magic had a way of resolving reluctance.

  One problem at a time.