As it turned out, the Light was not very helpful. My grand question of what I could do amounted to nothing at first. The Light just seemed to think about my request, then finally warmth shifted through me again, swirling around in a way that it hadn't before. Almost like it was testing something. The sensation wandered up my arm, across my chest, then faded before I could make sense of it.

  That was not an answer.

  “Well?” I muttered.

  The Light pushed a vague feeling back at me, something halfway between curiosity and patience.

  That was also not an answer.

  I sat there for another minute with Syrin’s hand in mine, letting the strange warmth drift around inside me, like something alive had settled under my skin and was quietly rearranging the furniture.

  “So that’s it?” I whispered. “Your grand plan is ‘feel around inside Trina’?”

  The Light seemed entirely comfortable with that plan.

  Behind me, Mom shifted a stack of papers on the table, the quiet rustle of parchment filling the room. I could feel her watching me every so often, but she didn’t interrupt.

  The warmth moved again—slowly this time, drifting down toward my fingers and then back up again.

  Testing. Waiting. “This seems very helpful,” I said dryly.

  The Light sent a faint ripple of amusement.

  I scowled down at the patterns flickering across Syrin’s skin in lazy gold swirls. His breathing was slow and steady.

  Do you control the patterns? I thought at the Light.

  It had obviously changed them before with the handprint. I didn’t really get a yes or a no. It was more like… both. I had no idea what that meant.

  “No luck on what I can do?”

  I just got that flicker of amusement again. I’d take that as a no.

  “Great,” I whispered. “So we know nothing.”

  The shrug feeling again.

  A door slammed below us, and I jumped, releasing Syrin’s hand. Mom just raised an amused eyebrow at that, but she stood, moving to the staircase and listening.

  She pulled out her dagger, and I stiffened. There was rustling movement. Then a voice called up the stairs. “Just me, alright? Don’t incinerate me, please.”

  Eldan. I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Then I processed the words and snorted. Did he still think I was a Keeper?

  A few seconds later he appeared at the top of the stairs, two bedrolls in one hand and a small sack dangling from the other. He dropped the bedrolls by the wall. “I, uh, figured you two could stay up here with him,” Eldan said, inclining his head towards Syrin. “I’ll stay downstairs.”

  He glanced at Syrin again, but this time his gaze stayed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “He’s glowing,” Eldan said, relief leaking through his voice. He froze, a blush staining his cheeks. “Normally, I mean.”

  His gaze flicked toward me, then back to Syrin again. “Is he…?” He hesitated, lowering his voice. “He’ll come back, right? The normal Syrinthinor. Not… whatever that was.”

  I glanced down at Syrin. The glow across his skin was still a steady gold. “Yeah,” I said. “He just needs rest.”

  Eldan didn’t look entirely convinced, but he nodded slowly.

  “Well,” he muttered, setting the sack down on the table. “That’s… reassuring.”

  He untied the sack and pulled out a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and smoked fish that I could smell from across the room.

  “Sorry it’s not much,” he said. “But it’s food. Couldn’t carry much else.”

  Mom gave him an approving nod. “Thank you.”

  Eldan glanced at the chair, then nervously at me. Then made his way to the cupboard and pulled out a couple of plates and utensils. “Think he’ll wake up soon?” Eldan asked as he sliced, constructing a sort of fish sandwich.

  I glanced back at Syrin. Two days. “Uh, I think it might be a little while. He’s been through a lot today.”

  Eldan nodded. “Someone at the shop said the flame was acting up.” He cleaned some cheese off the knife. “Anyone else know you’re in the city?”

  Mom and I glanced at each other before Mom let out a long breath. “It’s likely they do.”

  Eldan froze. “Lots of people or…”

  “No,” Mom said firmly. “But people might be looking for us, or more accurately, for him,” Mom finished, inclining her head toward the bed.

  Eldan shifted uncomfortably. “But… no one’s coming here, right? Do we need to keep a watch?”

  Mom chuckled. “If they get this far, it’ll be too late already.” She studied him.

  Eldan stilled as if a predator had him in its sights, which, given the circumstances, might be correct.

  “How connected were you to his sister?” Mom said, inclining her head towards Syrin. “I never got the whole story out of him.”

  Eldan bit his lip.

  “I don’t need to know the details,” Mom clarified. “I just need to know if you’re the sort of person they’d suspect Syrinthinor will go to.”

  Eldan let out a long breath. “I wouldn’t be their first thought, no, but… I’m on the list somewhere.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Mom leaned against the wall, and we both waited for her to speak again. Finally, she said, “We think someone in the House of Lords hired the assassins.”

  Eldan went white. He stumbled back a step, looking between us. “You… you’re serious?”

  Mom just gave a sharp nod. “I’m only telling you this, so you know the danger. Whoever’s behind all this knows we’re in the city.”

  Eldan looked a little panicked. “But the people in the tower… Ivorin’s daughter—”

  “Is likely on our side,” Mom said.

  Eldan seemed to be waiting for her to elaborate. She didn’t. He clutched the sandwich tight enough that the cheese started to shift out the side. “I don’t think most people know who I am. Just some of Syrinthinor’s relatives. If the politicians are doing the hunting, they’ll start with others. People I know,” Eldan clarified. “Friends.”

  He stared hard at the table. “If it’s really a conspiracy, if they think Syrinthinor is there, do you think they would…” Panic crept into Eldan’s eyes.

  “I don’t know what the situation is here,” Mom said. “But it seems like someone went to a lot of effort to hide all this. I’m assuming your friends are citizens?”

  Eldan gave a nod. “For the most part.”

  “Then, for now, I think they’ll be safe. Keep in mind who they are hunting; Syrinthinor isn’t someone they can just arrest. They’d have to do it under the table or force him to return to the tower.”

  Eldan nodded slowly.

  “Targeting him is also incredibly dangerous. I suspect they will wait to gather information.” She grimaced. “I don’t think they expected he’d come back alive, so what their next steps will be—”

  “Is difficult to say,” Eldan finished.

  “Exactly.”

  The room fell quiet except for Syrin’s steady breathing. I shifted uncomfortably.

  Eldan folded his arms. “Is this all some Closed Hand plot then?”

  Mom shrugged, her lips quirking up. “I don’t know enough about the Closed Hand to say.”

  “Syrin was pretty upset earlier,” I said. “About the healing, but also just the Closed Hand in general.”

  Eldan’s lips twitched. “That’s not at all shocking. He’s not really one to compromise on those sorts of things.”

  “I know it’s a political movement,” Mom nudged. “But maybe you could enlighten us further?”

  Eldan sighed. “It’s an argument as old as time, but the Closed Hand is protectionist. It’s the sort of political movement that pops up every couple of decades. People get frustrated. The Tower can drive prices up. We pay the taxes, and sometimes it seems like the foreigners reap all the benefits.”

  Eldan’s face softened. “They aren’t all bad. I have friends who are members. Some of the old blood dockworkers are very involved. But charging for healing…” Eldan glanced at Syrin. “It’s never gone that far before. Never.”

  I couldn’t help but remember the fury on Syrin’s face when he’d found out. If the Tower was ancient and this had never happened before…

  Eldan squared his shoulders. “It was… People were angry, of course, but they said we needed the funds for more guards. Given what happened to Syrinthinor before,” Eldan glanced back at the bed, “it was hard to argue with that. The city just lost a Keeper. One disappeared, and the other won’t show his face in the city anymore.”

  Eldan glared down at the table. “Grieving. Well, we’re grieving too. We need more than a Keeper-in-training out here. Fear or no.”

  My breath caught. “Because he’s asleep.”

  Eldan froze. “What?”

  “Syrin’s father. He’s under some sort of spell, at least… that’s what Syrin’s uncle told me.”

  Eldan said nothing, just breathing, but I thought I saw his hands shaking. Finally, “So, that’s why they started changing things,” Eldan said softly. “The Keepers always stood in the way before.” His gaze drifted toward Syrin. “Now they aren’t in the way.”

  Mom looked thoughtful.

  “Why didn’t they tell us about Ithalanor?” Eldan asked, looking at me.

  I grimaced. “Ivorin said they didn’t want people to panic.”

  Eldan set the sandwich down, collapsing into the chair. He scowled at the ground. “So, they just decided to give us false hope instead?” Eldan muttered.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned Syrin’s father at all.

  “Eldan,” Mom said, her voice softer than usual. “Ithalanor is asleep, but you just found one of the other Keepers. Granted, he’s also asleep at the moment, but he won’t stay that way. Let’s just focus on keeping him alive, alright?”

  Eldan didn’t answer right away. He sat there for a moment, staring at the table like it might explain everything if he looked hard enough.

  Finally he let out a long breath. “Right,” he said quietly. “Keeping him alive. I can do that.”

  He pushed himself up from the chair and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” he said. “Warehouse is locked up tight, and I’ll keep the lamps low. If anyone comes knocking… I’ll hear it.”

  Mom nodded. “That’s good enough.”

  Eldan hesitated a moment longer, glancing toward the bed. The glow across Syrin’s skin flickered softly in the dim room.

  “Never thought I’d see him like that,” Eldan muttered. Then he grabbed the sack and his sandwich, heading toward the stairs.

  The boards creaked as he descended. A moment later, we heard the faint thud of another door below closing. The room felt quieter after that. Too quiet.

  Mom watched the staircase for another few seconds before plopping down into one of the chairs and cutting herself a slice of bread. “Well,” she said, stretching her shoulders. “That could have gone worse.”

  “You think he’ll keep quiet?” I whispered.

  Mom shrugged. “He’s scared. That works in our favor.”

  She cut a slice of cheese and dug in. I had been starving before. Suddenly, I didn’t really feel hungry at all. Mom watched me. “Eat, Trina,” she commanded, nudging the knife toward me. “I doubt things will get easier soon. You eat when you can. Always.”

  I blinked. That was… not the side of Mom I usually got. I sank into the chair. “Was your first adventure this depressing?” I asked quietly.

  Mom swept some bread crumbs into a pile. “Not in the same way. For me? Sometimes. But it was my fate, not the fate of a whole city.”

  I pressed my hands against my face, breathing deeply. “I never wanted the fate of a whole city. Waiting tables was stressful enough.”

  Mom snorted. “You’re the one that chose to come.”

  I shifted in the chair, glancing back at Syrin. “I didn’t realize how much he was carrying,” I admitted.

  Mom smiled. “I’m glad this has been enlightening in some aspects, then.”

  I let out a huff. “How can you be so calm about all this?”

  Mom raised an eyebrow. “Will panicking help? It never has in the emergency room. I deal with emergencies all the time, remember?”

  I leaned back. I hadn’t thought about it that way before, but being an ER nurse was probably pretty good preparation. “Stupid managers aren’t quite the same level of effective adventuring prep,” I muttered.

  “Nope.”

  Mom finished her fish and walked over to the bedrolls Eldan had dropped earlier and unrolled one beside the wall. The fabric rustled loudly in the quiet room.

  The way she set it up, anyone coming up the stairs would have to step over it. Then she laid the other bedroll beside Syrin’s bed. “You take that one,” Mom said, pointing. “You can be emergency Light response. I’ll handle the stairs.”

  I tried to grin. I didn’t quite succeed. Mom disappeared into the washroom. I finished my food, staring at Syrin. He shifted slightly in his sleep, muttering something. Then he quieted again.

  Well, we wouldn’t need a nightlight. Syrin’s glow wasn’t bright at the moment, but it gave the room a soft, almost candlelit feel. Mood lighting.

  Too bad I still felt like the mood was horror film. I couldn’t get the glowing eyes out of my head.

  The Light had been helpful, but… I just wanted Syrin awake. I wanted him to look at me. I wanted to go home and sit on the couch with him and laugh as we watched videos that fascinated and horrified him in equal measure.

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to do that again. The thought made my throat ache. I collapsed back in the chair, staring at the ceiling, just listening to Syrin’s breathing and the water splashing in the washroom.

  Mom finally appeared again. She paused in the doorway. “You good, Trina?”

  I nodded. She partially filled a cup with water from the pitcher and moved to the bed, propping Syrin up before carefully letting a little water run into his mouth. She paused, watching his throat, then gave him another small sip.

  “He’ll be okay, right?” I asked. My voice came out rougher than I wanted.

  Mom looked up at me. “He’ll be fine, Trina. He’s got a lot of people who care about him in this building.” She smiled. “And one of them is a magical being who seems very invested in his survival.”

  Syrin’s glow flickered, like the Light was agreeing.

  Mom carefully lowered Syrin back down. “Honestly, I’m more worried about us.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was comforting or not.

  “You should sleep, Trina,” Mom murmured.

  I let out a long breath, then shoved myself up to my feet to get ready to sleep. Somehow, I already knew I wouldn’t sleep much.