Malikel pushed two mugs toward them. “Drink up. You’re both paler than these parchments.”

The tea was strong, with the mix of spices common to Malikel’s homeland of Minadel, a couple of weeks’ journey south of Forge. Too many flavors in one vessel for Tristam’s taste, but it did help clear his mind. Martin took a sip, hid a grimace behind his mug, and put the drink back down.

“Did she say anything about who they were, where they came from?” asked Malikel.

Tristam shook his head. “Nothing. She’s a strong beast speaker though. Her cats obeyed her completely.”

Malikel was silent for a moment. “We’ll have to think about this further. But at least we have some confirmation that they’re out in the forest.”

There was a knock on the door. By the time Tristam registered the sound, Malikel was already halfway to the door. Tristam and Martin scrambled to their feet, but Malikel waved them back down, and they reluctantly sat, exchanging uneasy glances at letting their superior do such a menial task.

Malikel opened the door to reveal a shieldman and signaled for Tristam to wait while he and the shieldman walked into the corridor. Through the doorway, Tristam saw the older man’s face darken as the man spoke.

Malikel motioned for Tristam to join them.

“There’s been a raid,” Malikel said curtly. “Come with me, Tristam; you have an eye for detail.”

“A raid?”

“One of the Palace armories was broken into last night. I have my suspicions about who was involved, but I need someone with fresh eyes.”

Malikel questioned the guard as they followed him into the city. “I thought we had the locks changed in all the armories and storehouses.”

“We did, sir, and only two copies of the key were made.”

“And the armory guards?”

“There were two of them, and neither of them had a key. Both guards are missing.”

“This is what I was trying to avoid.” Although Malikel kept his voice level, Tristam could see the anger in his brow.

A group of men in Palace uniforms were already at the armory when they arrived, some examining the building’s outer grounds while others rushed in and out with parchments. He made quick note of the armory’s thick walls and solid door as a tired-looking official came out to meet them.

“Sir Malikel.”

“Nels, what’s missing?” Malikel asked.

Nels sighed, raising a hand to rub his temple. “Fifty to seventy-five sets of studded-leather armor. They didn’t touch the heavier ones.”

“How did they get in?” Malikel asked.

“There’s no sign of damage to the doors, and the locksmith insists these locks cannot be picked. The Palace armor steward and I have the only two keys.”

“Could someone have copied the key?” asked Tristam.

“It’s possible. Anything’s possible.”