A cheerful thought, said Brother Zachariah, his heart sinking.

“I went to several sources about the information you asked for,” said Ragnor. “I have a lead, but I have to tell you—I was warned that this quest might prove fatal: that it has already proved fatal to more than one person. Do you truly want me to follow up on the lead?”

I do, said Brother Zachariah.

He had hoped for more. When he had met Tessa on the bridge that year, she had seemed concerned as she talked to him. It had been a gray day. The wind had blown her brown hair back from the face that trouble could touch as time could not. Sometimes it seemed like her face was all the heart he had left. He could not do much for her, but he had once promised to spend his life guarding her from the very wind from heaven.

He intended to keep his word in that at least.

Ragnor Fell nodded. “I will keep searching.”

So will I, said Brother Zachariah.

Ragnor’s face changed to a look of deep alarm. Brother Zachariah turned and beheld Matthew, who had wandered back to the faerie woman’s stall of potions.

Matthew! Brother Zachariah called. Come here.

Matthew nodded and came reluctantly forward, smoothing his waistcoat.

The look of alarm on Ragnor’s face deepened. “Why is he coming over? Why would you do this to me? I had always considered you one of the more sensible Shadowhunters, not that this is saying much!”

Brother Zachariah studied Ragnor. It was unusual to see the warlock rattled, and he was usually very discreet and professional.

I thought you had a long and cherished history of mutual esteem with the Fairchilds, said Brother Zachariah.

“Oh, certainly,” said Ragnor. “And I have a long and cherished history of not getting blown up.”

What? asked Zachariah.

The mystery was explained when Matthew caught sight of Ragnor and beamed.

“Oh, hello, Professor Fell.” He glanced in Jem’s direction. “Professor Fell taught me at the Academy before I was expelled. Very expelled.”

Jem had been aware that James had been expelled, but he had not known Matthew was too. He had thought Matthew had simply chosen to follow his parabatai, as anyone would if they could.

“Is your friend with you?” asked Ragnor Fell, and twitched. “Is Christopher Lightwood on the premises? Is our Market shortly to be engulfed in flames?”

“No,” Matthew said, sounding amused. “Christopher is at home.”

“At home in Idris?”

“In the Lightwoods’ London home, but it is far away.”

“Not far enough!” decided Ragnor Fell. “I shall decamp to Paris forthwith.”

He nodded at Brother Zachariah, visibly shuddered at Matthew, and turned away. Matthew waved forlornly after him.

“Good-bye, Professor Fell!” he called. He looked up at Brother Zachariah. “Christopher did not mean to cause any of the accidents, and the large explosion was entirely my fault.”

I see, said Brother Zachariah.

Brother Zachariah was not sure he did see.