The carriage slowed, then rattled to a stop as the driver reined in.

“My Lord Bayar!” the driver called down. “We’re here.”

Micah put his head out the window, took a long look, then settled back, allowing Raisa the view. “Speaking of Alister’s home, welcome to Pilfer Alley.”

Raisa leaned across Micah to look out. The cobbled alleyway was lined with warehouses, a little charred around the edges but all still standing. Familiar. A memory came back to her, of a night in a cellar, held captive by Cuffs Alister.

And there, over the door, was a scrawled symbol—a straight line with a zigzag over it. The same mark found on the bodies of the dead wizards.

“This is Alister’s hideout in Ragmarket,” Micah said. “An old warehouse where his streetrats congregate.” He looked Raisa in the eye. “The only street untouched by flame in all of Ragmarket. Interesting, wouldn’t you say?”

Each accusation was like a blow striking unprotected flesh. Raisa wanted to put her hands over her ears so she couldn’t hear any more.

She wanted to say, Maybe Han is keeping secrets, but I don’t believe he burned Ragmarket. He’s too smart to leave his headquarters standing with the neighborhood in cinders. But maybe the Bayars would—to cast suspicion on him.

Instead, she said, “Those are serious allegations, Micah. But as I said before, what’s his motive, and where’s your proof?”

“How much proof do you need?” Micah hissed, exasperated. “You say you know what you’re doing, that you’re managing risk, but surely you don’t mean to keep Alister as your bodyguard. You should put him in prison, where he belongs. Or let us take him to Aerie House. A few days in our dungeons, and he’ll confess.”

“And how would the Wizard Council react to that—if I throw the new High Wizard into prison and torture him into confessing something he maybe didn’t do?” Raisa hesitated and then plunged on. “You’ve never liked to lose, Micah. Are you sure you are not taking Alister’s win on the council a bit too personally?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say there is something between you,” Micah growled. “I don’t know how else to explain why you persist in—”

“The rule of law is how I explain it,” Raisa said. “I don’t torture people and I don’t throw people in jail without evidence. Bring me proof or keep your accusations to yourself.”

“I intend to get proof, and if you won’t file formal charges against Alister, I will,” Micah said.

They rattled across the drawbridge and came to a stop within the castle close. The endless carriage ride was finally over.

Micah was staring straight ahead, his face as hard and chalky as marble, a muscle twitching in his jaw.