After she ran out of small talk, Kai poured herself a cup of rancid coffee from the office kitchen, and retreated to her cubicle. The coffee tasted about as good as the harbor smelled on a hot still day. She’d have stood at the window to watch the ocean while she thought, but some infuriatingly personable officemate might have tried to trap her in conversation. Kai’s burst of post-lunch cheer (not that she’d actually eaten lunch, her stomach growled to remind her) had used up her patience and charity. She needed to think.

Kai walked to one of the cupboard-sized shared offices reserved for the writing of reports and the working of complex math. She closed the door, removed her shoes, sat cross-legged on the desk, shut her eyes, and descended into memory.

Seven Alpha took form around her: lightning skeleton, suggestion of volume in nothingness. Her mind retained Mara’s archives as a waking dream. Easy. Memory was important in the Order’s business of secrets and sacrifices. As an apprentice she’d memorized lists of random numbers, built palaces and cities in her mind, invented whole pantheons, and subjected them to private ragnaroks. Her recollection of Seven Alpha was not perfect, but close enough to serve.

Sliding through time, she searched her dream for the transfers to Margot. One should have been dispensed from the throat chakra, and another here, from the third eye, at six o’clock on a Thirdday morning. Nothing.

This much she expected. Someone, probably Mara, had wiped away all trace of Margot’s theft. The papers Kai had found were the last remaining evidence. She would have called them forgeries but for the perfect watermark, the glyphs, the texture of the ink, the slick fused sheen of records often read by Craft. And, of course, for Margot.

Assume Mara cut the evidence from the original files, leaving a few slips of vellum. Why? To hide the transfers from Ms. Kevarian. But Kevarian found her out anyway—or got the scent. Discrepancies, the Craftswoman had said in last night’s nightmare. A kind version of: you’re lying.

So Mara woke to find Kai in her crèche, and seized the chance to blame her friend for the whole thing.

Possible. Kai couldn’t believe that was Mara’s plan all along. She might have given Kai the papers in desperation. Or as a plea for help.

Too many questions. Too many secrets.

Let’s assume for the sake of argument (Kai thought) that these records scare Mara as much as they scare me. Mara isn’t evil. If I find her, I can convince her to go to Jace, get this fixed before Kevarian finds out. I’ve done the heavy lifting, tracked down Margot, put him in custody. There’s no need for me to be part of the story, even. Mara can present the problem and the solution to Jace at once. Get another promotion.