Smoke suffocated the streets from the now-extinguished fire, coating a dismal gray film over the whole area. The stragglers from a former bucket line continued to pour water on the last few dying embers while those who had already finished, cleaned the smoke from their throats with the drinks Crayden had ordered over from a different building of his.

Zedeya leaned against a pillar in the blackened remains of the previously lush front garden. Mydel hung back from her as if corruption and darkness could be caught like a common cold. She rolled her eyes and summoned an essence flare in her hand, admiring how much more powerful and stable it had become.

"You're getting stronger," Tyrinn stated, arriving beside her.

"I have you to thank for that, Minister Tyrinn."

He gave her a predatory grin and leaned close enough to whisper in her ear. "Master Gaiven from the tower, arriving as I predicted." He nodded further into the ruined garden where a man was shouting at a couple of city guards, his face as red at his mage's hat.

"I'll do whatever it takes to bring that man down! You just try arresting me and I'll—"

Zedeya pursed her lips together. The tower's mage hunter was the stuff of legends. She'd heard old stories about his ruthlessness as a wizard and if the burnt building was any indication, he hadn't lost that after he defected.

"I almost wish you'd predicted wrong."

Tyrinn shook his head. "No, this is actually going better than I expected."

"Going to keep me in the dark?"

Tyrinn chucked. "That'd be pretty hard to do with someone as smart as you." He waved toward Master Gaiven. "Why don't you tell me what I'm thinking?"

Zedeya bit the inside of her cheek and stared at the man, letting theories percolate in her brain. "Getting the tower on his side would be very dangerous for us... but you're not worried. Which means you don't think he poses a threat. But if Master Alverdyne got him alone and started talking..."

Zedeya snapped her fingers and turned back to Tyrinn, a gleeful smile on her face. "Gaiven's going in for the kill."

Tyrinn tipped his hat with a flourish. "Bright and beautiful."

"Master Tyrinn?"

Tyrinn closed his eyes in irritation before turning to Mydel as the picture of benevolent leadership. "There you are!" He clapped his hand on the young man's shoulder. "I need you to help me with something, it's very important."

Zedeya ground her teeth in irritation. If she had a coin for every time that annoying little twit had interrupted a moment between her and the ambitious, attractive new minister, she'd be able to buy Mydel a hat that actually fit.

Said twit lit up at the thought of being useful. "Anything, sir."

"Go talk to Master Gaiven. See if you can't calm down the city guards and stir up a little goodwill between the two of us. He might be able to help us find Master Alverdyne and Miss Everbloom."

Mydel dashed off at the mention of that woman's name, firmly wrapped up in his belief that "saving" her would win him her heart...or at least a date.

"Did we have to bring him?"

"An extra witness will prove useful and with Mydel, we outnumber them. Now come on, Crayden has something of mine."

They took off around the back of the building, finally reaching a secluded area. Although less well-tended than the rest of the gardens had been, the fire hadn't touched it so thick bushes choked the area while vines spilled over the stone walls like green waterfalls. Zedeya might have thought it tranquil if not for the sound of a fist connecting with a face.

Crayden looked like a dirtier, angrier version of exactly how Zedeya had heard him described. He reared back and decked a smaller man, sending him crashing to the ground before Crayden kicked him for good measure.

"You worthless half-breed. I ought to have let you burn. With. My. House!" he shouted, punctuating each word with another kick.

The smaller man coughed up a blackish-blue substance that Zedeya assumed was his version of blood. "You couldn't stop 'em either," he wheezed out, wiping his nose with the loose cloth he wore as a hood.

Crayden snatched him up by the shirt. The man's hood dropped to the ground as Crayden let him dangle in front of him. "Don't you try to weasel out of this, Cousin. They weren't locked up when we went after them. What? Did she bat her pretty little eyelashes and make you feel good about your worthless hind for a moment?"

Tyrinn cleared his throat. Crayden tensed, every muscle on his bare arms hardening into barely-chained anger. He dropped the man to the ground like an angered animal dropped its prey, leaving the man to crawl away. "We're closed," he said through clenched teeth.

"The legal or the illegal part?"

Crayden finally turned around and eyed the two of them up slowly before settling on Tyrinn. "You just missed him."

Tyrinn gestured to the scorched building. "I noticed." He took a casual step forward, placing his hands behind his back and smiling as if they were discussing how nice the weather had been. "His lady friend took something of mine. Assuming it hasn't been lost to the fire, I'd like it back."

Crayden crossed his arms. "I pick up a lot of things. You should be more specific."

Tyrinn's smile hardened in place. "Just a pile of research papers, no use to a man like yourself."

Then it was Crayden's turn to smile. He sized Tyrinn up again and Zedeya was reminded of two predators circling each other, both deciding if they should go in for the kill or walk away in grudging respect.

"Those papers. Yeah, I've had a look at those. I'm no expert but it looked like some nasty black magic you were 'researching'."

"That's none of your business," Tyrinn said, still keeping his voice light.

"Well, since the man carrying them got my favorite place of business burnt, I'd say it is." He whistled low and shook his head, grinning. "That thing sure messed Sedgewick up. I wonder how many of my customers would pay for a curse that stops a man's magic cold."

Tyrinn's magic circled around a nearby bench. It flew off the ground and slammed into Crayden, digging into his stomach as Tyrinn pinned him to the building's side.

Zedeya's pulse quickened at the sight. She stepped closer and formed a fireball. Tyrinn smiled at her, which was all the encouragement she needed to lean against the floating bench and hold it near Crayden. "You should be more respectful. That's the Minister of Magic you're talking to."

Crayden scowled at them as he sucked back in his lost breath. "All right, all right. I know when not to push my luck. Here's the deal; I want the same arrangement, same protection I had under Alverdyne, only double. In return, I give you the notes... and I don't inform your queen or your tower about the details of your 'promotion'. Got it?"

"That's two items," Tyrinn said, pressing the bench into him harder. "What else can you give me to make it even?"

"I'll owe you a favor," he chuckled.

Tyrinn smirked. "Deal. And I'm calling it in now."

Feyla had never wished she knew more magic than this moment.

They were crouched in the overgrown bushes, banking on the shadow from the wall and the thick foliage to compensate for Feyla's very, very poor attempt at an illusion spell. The mirage of plants hovered before her, rippling like water every half-minute. They'd snuck in around the back and ducked into the greenery just in time to see Crayden slammed into the building. It would have been a satisfying sight were it not for the shock of who did it.

She hadn't seen Tyrinn since she'd stolen his notes and if it had stayed that way, nervousness wouldn't be choking out her breath and her magic right now. His eyes weren't filled with rage now, only cool control. Tyrinn was in his element now and knew exactly what he was trying to accomplish. His words to Crayden proved he'd thought of every conceivable obstacle in his path. A vial to the eyes and a few misled Guardsmen wouldn't stop him from killing them this time.

Feyla's every fiber thrummed with magic and anxiety as she fought to keep the illusion stable. Tyrinn was a professional; more than a glance in their direction and he'd see right through them.

She jumped as Sedgewick's warm breath hit her sensitive ear. The illusion rippled like someone had tossed a bucketful of rocks in a pond.

Sedgewick jerked her hands down and it vanished altogether. She glared at him before remaking the illusion.

"Your white healer's garb blends better than that. Focus and hold still," he said while his eyes never left the man hunting him. Sedgewick's ears quirked forward, his brow knit in concentration as he struggled to hear every word.

After an ominous statement that Tyrinn was collecting on his favor now, he floated the bench back and the two men shook hands.

Feyla bit her lip and they wait to hear Crayden reveal the location of the notes. If they could only get there first then the two of them could slip away and Feyla knew that once they got to the capital—

"They're right here," Crayden said. He reached into the leather pouch at his side and pulled out a thick, rolled-up bundle of papers.

As the papers slipped firmly into Tyrinn's hand, their last hope of a confrontation-free retrieval slipped away. The two men strolled out of earshot but Zedeya stayed behind. Her ears twitched as she looked behind her, suspicion on her face. Feyla sucked in a breath before she could help herself. Sedgewick jerked a hand over her mouth as her illusion rippled again.

Zedeya snapped around, staring right into their clump of plants. Her eyes met Feyla's but there was no recognition in them. She hadn't seen them. The sorceress just wasn't experienced enough to pick up on the illusion.

Feyla's heart threatened to collapse in like her spell was trying to do. Meanwhile, Sedgewick's pulse thrummed against her cheek from where his hand sat, pumping twice as fast as her own.

Zedeya stepped closer while Feyla poured all her magic and energy into keeping the spell from rippling. Even Zedeya would be able to see her ripples from this close looking straight on and she'd definitely be able to see the spell vanishing altogether.

Feyla's arms stung and her fingers twitched. Sedgewick released her mouth and slipped his hands over her own, helping support her weakening arms. He pressed his forehead against the side of her face, silently pleading for her to stay strong just a little bit longer.

Zedeya's eyes narrowed. She tilted her head to the side and took another step closer.

Until a hacking cough made all three of them jump.

Zedeya spun around while Feyla forced herself not to gasp. Hobrin...

He bent down to pick up a gray cloth, blood still dripping from his nose. Hobrin quickly wrapped it around his shoulders and tugged it over his head. But it failed to hide the two ugly bruises already developing on his face and nothing could hide the hobble in his gait. "What?" he barked at Zedeya. "Never seen a guy pick up his scarf before?" Hobrin wiped his nose again, ignoring Zedeya's glare. She glanced back at the bushes briefly before flouncing away.

Hobrin tugged his scarf straighter before looking dead into their spot. "Don't let him get you killed, lady," he whispered in their general direction. "I don't get beaten on for nothin'."

Feyla stayed quiet. She faded the illusion away and rolled a vial of medicine in his direction while Sedgewick gripped a nearby branch as if he was waiting for a trap to spring and someone to drag him out of hiding.

Hobrin casually looked around before pocketing the vial and smiling toward their spot. He limped away as if nothing was wrong, never looking back.

They stayed knelt there until Feyla couldn't remember her legs not feeling numb. Finally, the noises in the distance faded enough for them to slip away. Sedgewick took her hand and she squeezed it gratefully. They stayed silent until they were well away from Crayden's.

Feyla leaned against Sedgewick once they reached an empty alley where they could speak freely. "He did that for me," she said, guilt welling up inside her. "I should have tried harder to get him to come with us."

"You couldn't have done any better," Sedgewick soothed, releasing her hand so he could wrap his arm around her waist. "Hobrin is the only one who can convince Hobrin. You can't make him help himself. No matter how much I know you want to."

Feyla wiped her damp eyes. "You're probably right. I just... I hate things like that. But I guess we should focus on Tyrinn. Do you think he'll leave his notes somewhere we can snatch them?"

Sedgewick pushed up his glasses and sighed. "He made that mistake with them at his house; I'll doubt he'll do so again. No, they'll be glued to his side from now on."

Feyla huffed. "Then how are we supposed to get them back? We're not exactly on equal footing."

"I've been thinking about that..."

"Yes?"

Sedgewick grinned at her, the light in his eyes shining through his glasses. "Feyla, how would you like to add burglary to our list of crimes?"

*****************************

Author's Note: Another! Not sure how I feel about this chapter, honestly. I've also got a character banner for Feyla up! Her hair should be longer and more honey-colored and the pink filters make her face a little paler than I like but it'll do. That hair was a PAIN.