Brass Street lived up to its name through sheer stubbornness rather than actual brass content. The few brass fixtures that remained had long since turned green, giving the street the appearance of having a persistent illness. Lower Valemark itself felt like Upper Valemark's less successful sibling, the one who'd tried to make it in agricultural nobility but settled for modest commerce and reliable disappointment.

  The loaning house sat between a bakery that smelled of burnt dough and a cobbler whose sign read "Shoes Fixed While You Limp", according to Venn, who wondered out loud what that even meant. The building itself had the solid, unimpressed look of a structure that had seen all kinds of weather, seasons and tenants, and wouldn't change for any of them.

  ?Maybe we should have brought flowers,? Venn said, fidgeting with her bag and shifting on her feet.

  ?Or armor,? Reyn said with a raised eyebrow, remembering Jarek's warning about thrown objects and excellent aim.

  They knocked. The door opened immediately, and loudly, as if someone had been watching through the window. Which, given the professional curtain twitch they'd noticed, someone had.

  Meredith Baer was not what they'd expected. She was small, compact, with the kind of face that had been pretty before life had worn down the edges. The promised mole on her left cheek looked less like a blemish and more like a punctuation mark on a firmly written sentence. Her hair was pulled back in a bun so severe it might have been classified as a weapon in some areas of the world.

  ?You're not customers,? she said, barely giving them a lookover.

  ?No,? Reyn said. ?We're---?

  ?You're the ones who scared the Beast.? Again, not a question. ?I heard about you this morning. Three people, one matching your description went in, two people and several traumatized nobles came out.?

  ?That was us.?

  ?And Jarek, based on your friend's face.? She sighed and stepped aside. ?I knew it had to be him... You'd better come in.?

  The loaning house's interior was exactly what you'd expect from someone who counted money for a living and had trust issues about everything else. Ledgers lined shelves. An abacus sat on the desk like a monument to practical calculation. Everything had its place, and woe to anything that forgot where that was.

  ?Tea?? Meredith asked, though she was already pouring.

  They sat in uncomfortable chairs that seemed designed to discourage lengthy visits. Meredith settled behind her desk with the air of someone preparing for battle.

  ?How?? she asked simply, only holding her cup with both hands.

  ?What do you mean?? Venn said and swallowed.

  ?How did he die??

  ?The beast was... difficult,? Reyn began, weighing her words against Meredith's expressions. ?During the fight, there was structural damage to the barn. A beam gave way. He fell.?

  ?A beam.? Meredith's voice was flat. ?He survived the beast but died from a beam.?

  ?Yes.?

  ?That sounds exactly like my man.? She picked up a paperweight, hefted it thoughtfully. For a moment, both Reyn and Venn tensed. Then she set it down, precise and careful. ?What were his last words??

  Venn cleared her throat. ?He wanted us to tell you he died heroically fighting the Beast of Valemark.?

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  ?Not his actual last words. Those would have been about something ridiculous. His final message..? Her eyes were sharp, calculating.

  ?He remembered the vegetables,? Venn said softly.

  The change in Meredith was immediate. Her controlled facade cracked, just for a moment, and something raw showed through. Then she laughed. Actually laughed, though it had tears at the edges.

  ?Of course he did.? She wiped her eyes. ?Our first argument as a married couple was about vegetables. He'd spent our food money on what he insisted was a 'sure thing' investment. We had nothing to eat but turnips for a month. I threw every single one at his head. He dodged most of them, caught some, and made soup.? She smiled at the memory. ?Best terrible soup I ever had.?

  ?He also mentioned money under the third flagstone,? Reyn added.

  ?And warned you about the baker, I suspect. Yes, that sounds like him. Trying to protect me even from beyond.? Meredith stood, moved to a cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of something that looked expensive. ?Even with the Crimson Hand he tried to protect me, that dumb fool.?

  ?What can you tell us about them?? Reyn asked.

  She poured three generous measures, emptied hers in one swallow, and poured another. Then she looked directly at Reyn.

  ?You're the one who fought them in Rivier, weren't you??

  Reyn froze. ?How did you---?

  ?Merchants are a chatty bunch. Told of a Bormecian woman who utterly destroyed them. At first I thought he'd been killed too, until someone said one of them survived and went with her. I just knew it had to be Jarek.? Her grip on the glass was white-knuckled. ?Part of me wanted to find you. Kill you. Part of me was grateful.?

  ?Grateful??

  ?He was free. For the first time in years, he was free from those bastards, whatever he was doing. He wanted to get out for so long.? She laughed bitterly. ?You gave him peace by beating him up. There's poetry in that somewhere.?

  ?I'm sorry,? Reyn said simply.

  ?Don't be. He was trying to kill people when you stopped him. That's what the Crimson Hand had made him.? She refilled her glass. ?He wasn't always a criminal. He was an accountant. A good one. Worked for the merchant houses, keeping their books, making sure the numbers added up. Then he discovered that some of those merchants were... creative with their taxes. Shorting the crown, inflating prices during famines, the usual horrible things that aren't illegal if your morals are lacking.?

  ?So he reported them??

  ?He tried. The magistrate he reported to was being paid by the same merchants. Jarek lost his position, his reputation, everything. That's when the Crimson Hand approached him.? She stared into her glass. ?They said they were different. Rob from the rich, give to the poor, bring justice where the law failed. Jarek believed them. He always wanted to believe the best about people.?

  ?What changed?? Venn asked.

  ?That bloody wizard.? Meredith's voice turned cold. ?About two years ago, this wizard showed up. Worked his way into the leadership's confidence. Especially Kael.?

  ?Kael?? Reyn sat forward.

  ?The Bormecian who started it all. Good man, or was. The wizard convinced him that moderation was weakness. That real change required real violence. The Crimson Hand went from well-intentioned criminals to violent assholes.?

  ?This wizard,? Reyn said carefully. ?What was his name??

  ?I don't know. Only heard 'the advisor' or 'his wisdom' or other nonsense. Jarek saw him once. Said he looked like every other wizard. Robes, beard, superiority complex. But his eyes...? She shuddered. ?Jarek said his eyes were like looking at dark, stormy clouds.?

  ?Where is this wizard now??

  ?Who knows? Probably still whispering in Kael's ear, turning noble intentions into profitable violence.? She stood abruptly. ?Jarek tried to leave when things got bad. They wouldn't let him. Said he knew too much. So he found the Rivier-job and got himself stationed there, far away from me. Less violence, and it gave him time to figure out a way out without risking my skin, that good-hearted fool.?

  ?And then we came along,? Reyn said quietly.

  ?And then you came along.? Meredith turned back. ?You know what the funny thing is? I thought I'd lost him for good. Then I knew he was safe, then I knew nothing and dared to hope he'd come home. I guess he did, in a way.?

  She moved to her desk, wrote something on a piece of paper. ?Skyrise Tower at the College, north of here. Jarek did their books once before... before the Hand. If anyone knows anything about the wizard, it'd be them.?

  ?Why are you helping us?? Venn asked.

  ?Returning the favour for bringing him home.? She handed them the paper. ?In case you're interested.?

  ?We are,? Reyn said.

  ?Good.? Meredith's smile had edges. ?Someone needs to do something about them.?

  As they stood to leave, she added, ?The vegetables? He was saving to buy a garden plot. Said when we escaped, we'd grow the ugliest vegetables in the kingdom and make terrible soup and be happy.? Her voice broke slightly. ?Tell me he died quickly.?

  ?He did,? Reyn lied smoothly. ?And he died thinking of you.?

  That, at least, was true.

  They left Meredith to her grief and her thrown objects (they heard two crashes before they'd reached the street). The afternoon sun felt too bright after the dim interior of the loaning house.

  ?She knew,? Venn said. ?That you were the one who hurt him.?

  ?And she thanked me for it.? Reyn's voice was troubled. ?That's somehow worse than if she'd tried to kill me.?

  ?The wizard's corrupting people. Turning good intentions into violence.? Venn frowned.

  ?Sounds wizardy to me,? Reyn said. ?Any suggestions??

  ?First, I have a Trial to complete tonight. Then tomorrow, we visit this tower.? Venn's jaw set with determination. ?And we find out what's going on and put a stop to the Hand.?

  Reyn looked at her companion with newfound respect. The nervous healer who'd fled from drakes was gone. In her place stood someone who'd spoken with the dead and was ready to confront the living.

  Reyn made a list in her head. The Trial. Skyrise Tower. The Beast of Valemark was still out there. With Jarek's wife and Rivier, she might consider two Good Deeds done, but she still had to slay a beast and compete in a tournament somewhere in Vaelen.

  She stretched her arms behind her back. One catastrophe at a time.