And Arndel would, too. He’d trump up some baseless accusation, claim he was threatened, claim the Lindins had a vendetta against him. And with Barl already in trouble, the Council would likely believe him.

Sickened, Remmie shook his head. “It seems I owe Barl an apology. I told her she was wrong to judge you so harshly. I told her she should be grateful for the chances you gave her. She told me I was talking through my nose. And she was right. Arndel, you’re a disgrace.”

Leaving the artisanry behind, he turned next to the only other mage who might be able to help him… and Barl.

“Bound?” Lady Ancilla Grie pressed a slender white hand to her breast. “Mage Lindin, I had no idea.”

Invited to sit in her splendid day room, uncomfortably aware of his plain linen and wool in this sumptuously silken place, Remmie struggled to keep all emotion in check.

“The Council doesn’t want it widely known, my lady.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t. Don’t worry, I’ll not speak of it.”

He managed a smile. “I’d be most grateful. Lady Grie, I know my coming here must be counted impertinent. And I know you must be preoccupied with your infant son. But—”

Beautiful, elegant Lady Grie sighed. “But you want me to help your sister. Mage Lindin, I wish I could. But there’s nothing I can do.”

He had to tread carefully. “Lady Grie, I think I know what Artisan Master Arndel has told you of Barl. If I told you that he wasn’t being entirely truthful, or was misled, would you be greatly offended?”

“No,” Lady Grie said. “But even if that’s the case, I still can’t help you. I have no say in how Master Arndel runs his artisanry. Could you prove your sister unfairly dismissed, it would make no difference. Arndel will never take her back… and I think you already know that. As for me interceding on Barl’s behalf with the Council, you overestimate my importance. Here in the Eleventh district, I am counted a mage of some influence. But in Elvado? I have none.” Her lips twisted in a wry smile. “Hard as it may be for you to believe, ranking has its limitations.”

Swallowing hard, Remmie stared at the richly carpeted floor. He’d placed every last hope for Barl in the persuasive powers of this woman… and here she was telling him he’d wasted his time.

“I understand, my lady,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. Then he stood. “Thank you for seeing me.”

Lady Grie shook her head. “Not at all. I only wish I could help. Your sister is a rare talent. I was looking forward to owning more of her marvellous clocks… and whatever else she dreamed up.”

And was that all Barl meant to her? Did injustice mean nothing at all? “My lady.”