“Or she was trying to build support,” Ariste points out. “But what did you think your group kidnapping her would accomplish? There’s other ways to call attention to your cause.”

“We tried them. They got lost in the noise. There’s so much of it. Making demands has greater impact when you back it up with something real.”

Ariste just nods. “What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know,” Patrishia admits. “Far as I know, the rest of my group was taken. Best I can think of to do is get a new mask and disappear. But I need to get into the city for that, and, well.”

The next morning she’s gotten as far as packing her bag and heading for the front door to put it in her rental car when she realizes she hasn’t called the executor.

What’s more, the executor has no idea how to dispose of a magic wand, an occult statue, and half a dozen soul jars.

Rosalie drops her bag by the front door and goes back to the kitchen. The map is sitting on the table, with the statue and the wand.

She was up late last night, looking at all three of them.

If there’s no decision for her to make, then why is she still here?

“Wait,” Pya says. “You said that Scoti could activate you because she has Myrrine genetic markers in her blood. Can anyone with Myrrine ancestry activate you?”

There’s a pause. Scoti wonders how something like Mountainfoot could need this much time to think.

“NO.“

“Then what are the requirements?” Mykel asks. “Why does Scoti have the ability?”

“THERE WAS A RACE OF BEINGS WHO ALL HAD ACCESS TO ME AT ANY TIME. THIS WAS THEIR PURPOSE. SCOTI IS A DIRECT DESCENDANT.”

“Bloody hells,” Jolorie whispers. “The silverblood.”

Cassandra considers it. There are shadows in her peripheral vision. More of them. Probably what Jason was trying to warn her about.

If she refuses, they’ve got no reason to let either of them live. And after this chase, they must be hungry.

“If I find them, and if they’re doing what the rumor says, and if they’re willing to talk, I’ll put you in touch. That’s all I can offer.” And it’s more than she wants to, come to that. Just looking at this one in front of her makes her gorge rise.

But really, already she’s in no shape for a firefight.

“So how do you know there’s going to be an attack?” I asked. After all, Sopron had all the makings of an excellent defense, if a somewhat undermanned garrison. Until our arrival, at least.

“I don’t,” he said. “Not specifically, anyway. But there’ve been raids on outlying villages and farms. Most of those people have come behind the walls for protection.”

“How do you know the bandits won’t move on, now that the easy pickings are gone?”

“Because raiding isn’t their aim,” Laszlo said. “They intend to take the town.”

The borrower’s record didn’t tell me much. Which kind of made me wish I hadn’t looked it up. When you commit a professional ethics violation, you want to get something out of it. As it was, it only showed the past month’s information, anyway. Anything older than that got wiped from the system.

The witch hadn’t checked out anything surprising. She seemed to like paranormal romances–probably to laugh at–and mathematics, which was less unexpected than you might think. She hadn’t checked out a lot of witchcraft books, but then again, our library didn’t have a lot of them to check out.

One of the books, though, was interesting. Portals and Parallelism might be math, with a bit of quantum physics thrown in for flavor, but it also had that new-agey tinge that made me suspect it was something else entirely.

“Hell, no,” Pheletes says immediately.

“Really? You gave the impression of being more of a risk taker than that,” she replies.

“After what we went through to get our hands on it–” Demetrios begins. Pheletes puts a hand on his arm, but it’s too late.

“Oh ho,” she says. “It’s not yours, either! What are you, a competitor?”

“Something like that,” Pheletes says.

She considers them for a minute. Neither of them says anything, which tells her the advantage is hers.

“If you really want to know,” she says at last, “then you follow my recommendation. How else are you going to find out?”

“There are firm limits on passenger capacities across rewilded areas,” Patrishia says. “We got ahold of her proposal before its release. She wants to build an entirely new cross-state line. That means huge disruptions, a larger footprint on the ground, and a higher impact afterward.”

Ariste takes a few nuts and passes the bag to Patrishia. “And you thought the proposal had a chance of being accepted.”

“She was on her way to meet with a bidding firm in Spokane. She wouldn’t have been doing that unless she thought there was a realistic chance of government approval.”

“Because I’m only here to pick up a few things, and then I’m heading back to San Francisco, that’s why.”

“You’ve been here for over a week. I wouldn’t have thought it would take that long.”

Me either, she thinks but doesn’t say. She carefully avoids thinking that it might be the house itself. But that’s just silly.

“My flight’s tomorrow.” She drains her teacup. “So if that’s all, officer…”

“Of course.” He looks disappointed, but doesn’t try to argue further.

She thinks about going to the place across the street, after he leaves. Then she remembers what the woman there said last time, and decides against it.

“USERS OF THE CONTROL INTERFACE PRESENTED THEMSELVES FOR AUTHENTICATION.“

It takes Scoti a minute to parse this; the words are unfamiliar. Then she gets it.

“What are the requirements for authentication?” she asks. Mykel looks surprised but doesn’t chide her. Sy glares at her. She ignores him.

“AUTHORIZED USERS DESIGNATED BY THE ADMINISTRATION OF THIS FACILITY.“

“But no administration designated me. Why was I able to give you orders?”

There’s a pause.

“YOUR GENETIC PROFILE CONTAINS MARKERS OF A USER CLASS ALWAYS AUTHORIZED BY DEFAULT.“

Scoti and Mykel look at each other. Then she looks at the others.

It’s Sy, of all people, who says it: “Well, damn. Guess it’s good we brought you along after all.”