That was … not a good night. For more than one reason. Maya went back into the bedroom. The letter to Raskos, carefully unfolded and smoothed, was wedged under her pillow. She’d jammed it there, head swimming, in the hopes that it would be easier to understand in the morning. Now, head pounding, she pulled it out again. The script was awkward, with many corrections where Raskos had made mistakes with the cipher, but the results were at least legible:

Cipher 17568.13

To: Dux Raskos of Deepfire

From: Kyriliarch Nicomidi Thunderclap

Received your last. I grow tired of your delays, and your transparent excuses. You will deliver the Core Analytica as agreed. If you prevaricate further, my agathios, from whose hand you are receiving this, will be given instructions to begin an investigation in Deepfire that will no doubt prove to be very enlightening for the Council. For your sake, I suggest you expedite matters.

Reading it again did not help with her headache, or the churn in her stomach. What am I supposed to do with this?

I should tell Beq. Beq, at least, might have some idea what a “Core Analytica” was. Maya remembered the state she’d left Beq in, and winced. In fact, I should check on her anyway.

In the sitting room, the servants had left her a silver tray laden with bread, butter, slices of summerfruit, and hard-boiled eggs. There was also a paper-wrapped tablet of quickheal, set neatly on its own china saucer. Maya hesitated before picking it up. Jaedia had always taught her to be frugal with sanctioned arcana—you never knew when you’d be able to resupply, and so using them for anything less than an emergency was a waste. A hangover probably doesn’t count as an emergency. On the other hand, her own supply was safe in her pack, and their host was the dux himself. I’m sure he can afford it.

The waxy, mint-tasting stuff dissolved as she chewed it, and Maya gave a sigh as she felt wonderful numbness spreading back from her throat. In a few moments, her headache had been reduced to a manageable level, and she was able to properly address the food. When it was gone, she felt considerably better. She dressed—she had no option but to put her traveling clothes back on, sweat stains and all—and folded the letter into her pocket. With her haken on her hip, she ventured out into the corridor.

She crossed the hall and knocked on Beq’s door. There was a distant thump and the sound of running feet. The door finally opened, revealing Beq in one of the palace’s silk dressing gowns, her green hair piled inelegantly atop her head, frantically adjusting her spectacles.

“Sorry,” Maya said. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Beq shook her head frantically. “No, I’ve been up. I was getting some reading in.”

“Reading?”