"Yes, I understand." I can cut the tension in the air with a knife.

Around me, six men dressed in dark orange clothes I now recognize as the uniform for the Faethian Police Force, stand. Two keep their hands firmly placed on the metallic wands hooked onto loops on their belts, but all keep their gazes trained on me. That is hard to tell exactly in the pupiless eyes of the dwarves.

"Good." A seventh man stands in front of me, dressed in the same uniform, while being decidedly not a dwarf.

He introduced himself as a goblin, a squat man with scraggly black hair, long ears, and a hooked nose whose greyish green complexion makes him look like he is suffering from some consumptive illness. He speaks with authority, keeping his hands high as he speaks with me and held out to his sides, as if he is afraid that I am some wild beast. The epaulets on his shoulder bear a silver star encircled twice, while all of the other officers only carry the single star; it is some kind of status, I think.

"I just didn't know," I say, not for the first time.

"I understand," he says, not for the first time. "Keep to the streets. The public transportation is free."

I nod at him, my eyes drifting to look at one of the officers in particular. He grips a torched wig in his hand, his eyes distant and hard. I nod again. What else is there to do?

When Corinth told me that the Faethians like to have control of the air when we registered my ship at the dock, it hadn't occurred to me that the same might be true inside the city. Yet, when I took to the air in an attempt to circumvent the smelly underground maze of mothing walkways, several of these dwarves in orange took to the air after me. At first, I thought they were bandits of some kind. I'm just glad that I didn't seriously injure anyone.

"Again, I apologize," I say to the man in front of me.

"As long as you understand," he says. "This is a serious issue."

"Of course."

The man waves his hand, speaking a few words in Tallic far too quickly for me to even begin to grasp. Two of the officers behind him grunt a reply before taking off, walking out of the small alley and into the bustling city street once again. Others remain, watching me with careful eyes.

"This city is confusing," I say, a lame excuse. The officer in front of me just nods, muttering something conciliatory. Behind him, one of the dwarves, the one whose wig I had burnt, grunts something aggressive sounding. The goblin man turns, barking the word I have learned to mean "no" back at him. "If it isn't too much trouble," I say, reaching into a pocket. Hands fly toward metallic wands at my movement. I pause, slowly continuing, pulling a slip of paper out to show it to the man in front of me. "Do you know where this address is?"

The goblin waves the others down, unfolding the paper and glancing it over. "That will be in the Calaver Burough, west side of the city. The streets going east to west are numbered there. Take the magenta line to the end before transferring to the twenty-four. I think this is somewhere in Ballis Heights. If you get lost, any officer you find there might be able to help you find where you are going." He hands back the paper.

My mind clamps down onto the directions like a steel trap. I fold up the note once more, pocketing it. "Thank you, sir."

"If you have any further issues, feel free to come to us. We have stations all around the city."

"Yes, thank you."

"Remember, stick to the ground. If anyone approaches you with a purple scarf tied around their arm, don't buy anything from them. There are free information services at the library on tweflth if you have further questions about the city," he relates.

I want to ask about the purple scarf people, but more than that, I want this interaction to be over. "I will make sure to visit there," I say.

He nods, smiling at me, and we share an awkward moment of silence. Finally, he turns, extending his hand to lead me out. Once more, I take to the streets of Faeth, a bit more confused than I was before. Behind me, two of the officers start talking in low tones with their goblin superior, a clear argument. I eavesdrop a moment; even without ever putting a single point into my perception attribute–something I take a perverse pride in–it is still several times greater than it was before I became a magician, and the words aren't difficult to pick out. For the hour and a half that it takes me to navigate to my last stop for the day, I flip through the translation guide Corinth gifted me, puzzling out the conversation.

One thing the goblin man said to the others in particular stands out: the first thing he said when he arrived on the tense scene where I was surrounded by dwarves pointing magical rods at me. "Cavas merida tavla Gyiim, savanasca," is what he said. Apparently, that translates to, "Did you idiots really fire at a fucking dragon?"

To my immense credit, I manage not to get lost a single time on my last trip through the city. Tallic is a strange language; all of the letters are written in a way that they flow into the next, each having three different forms depending on where they are in a word. Even the numbers are different from Castinian. Luckily, memorization has become a strength of mine since integrating essentia. While that does seem to pose clear evidence that the magic I have made part of my soul has irreperably changed my mind, I prefer not to think about that. Learning the eleven symbols for the local number system is far easier than the letters, and using those, I find the borough that was mentioned to me.

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While I was told that flying was prohibited, the officers never said anything about running, and given just how massive this city is, I don't have a better way of finding what I'm after. People look at me strangely while I sprint down the streets, passing the strange carriages that take up the roads with ease, as I can weave between the traffic. Like the man said, after I find the right numbered street, the search simply becomes running southward until I come across the right address. At the far southern edge of the city, only six blocks away from the emerald wall that climbs vertically in the air until it seems to merge with the blue sky overhead, I find the address Corinth gave me.

A wrought-iron gate stands in front of me, the plaque set into the front clearly indicating that this is indeed the right place. I stand outside, staring into the vast yard of evenly-clipped grass just inside the fence, a white, marble pathway running through the land and leading to an opulent fountain that glows with magic. The fountain stands before a manor that extends the length of an entire city block to either side. Given the towering buildings of Faeth that expand away from the manor all around, towering over the three-story building in front of me, I try to estimate just how expensive it must be to own a place that takes up so much space in the middle of the city. The task is impossible, but I can't imagine that it is cheap.

Stepping up to the gate, I try to push it open. The metal squeals under my touch, the gate slowly pushing forward, while obviously complaining at the act. I think I could force it, but that might leave a bad impression.

"Get your hands off!" The voice is so sudden that I jump away.

I blink, trying to relax my fingers, hoping that no one on the street saw me start to conjure fire. People continue to walk past me, not giving me or the apparent talking gate a second glance.

"Hello?" I try.

"Good day," the gate replies. There is a slight disturbance in the air just in front of the wrought-iron as the words appear. I squint at the iron rods arrayed in front of me, and can only barely detect the telltale taste of magic running through the metal. "State your purpose, Miss. The lady does not take kindly to solicitors. If you are a vagrant, there are accommodations for you at the hostel down the block."

That last part takes me by surprise. I can't help but look down at myself, wondering what gave the impression that I might be a penniless beggar. When I left Corinth's penthouse, I had thought that I was dressed rather nicely. Maybe I should find some clothes in the local fashion.

"My brother said that there might be an enchanter here able to help me," I tell the gate.

"Have you an appointment?" the gate asks.

"I…do I need to make one?" I ask in turn.

"Traditionally, that is how meetings are arranged. The lady's time is valuable. She does not have time to see any random person off the street at any given time."

While the animate object's words make sense, I find them disheartening. "If I said that my brother was Corinth Devardem, would that change anything?" Corinth was the one who gave me this address, so perhaps he knew the woman of this manor personally. Still, I feel a bit dirty using my brother's name to try and gain access. There was a time when that wouldn't have been the case. I don't know what that says about me.

"One moment," the gate says. Then, it simply stops speaking.

Several minutes pass as I stand in front of the talking gate, waiting. More than ten minutes later, far after I have pulled out the translation book again to try and memorize it, a voice echoes from the gate once more. This time, however, the voice is decidedly feminine.

"Hello?" it asks. "Are you still there?"

"Yes?" It is only a few seconds after making my reply does the embarrassment hit. I haven't been speaking to an animate gate, but rather some kind of communication enchantment connected to someone inside the manor. I really am an ignorant farm girl, aren't I?

"Are you the young lady claiming to be Corinth's sister?" the voice asks.

"I am. He directed me to come here, telling me that there is an enchanter here who might be able to fix…" A buzzing sound cuts me off mid-sentence, and a pop of magic in front of me allows the gate to slowly swing open.

"Please, come inside," the voice says.

I don't need further prompting to enter. The enchanted gate swings closed just moments after I step onto the path leading toward the manor. As I approach, I find the fountain in front of the building filled with water enchanted to smell like roses. The manor itself is of a different architecture from the rest of the buildings in Faeth, looking more like something I might expect to find in the empire. Yet, as I approach, I can see that the individual bricks of the home are layered with dense runework that forms an array across the edifice of the mano,r so complex that I cannot even begin to guess at the purpose. The double doors glide smoothly open as I approach. A stonespeaker man waits in the entrance, dressed in fine clothing cut in a servant's style. Even with how much I have grown in the past year, the man towers over me, his white hair and beard clipped short, a serene smile on his face as he bows toward me and ushers me inside.

I follow, feeling somewhat lost in a dream. The interior of the manor is as extravagant as the exterior. Pedestals line the white-painted walls, each holding some different enchanted device or bit of expensive esoterica. Two large doors lead into the wings on my right and left, while a staircase climbs high in front of me toward the second floor. As the stonespeaker man closes the doors behind me, cutting out the natural light of the sun, another appears at the top of the staircase.

At first, I mistake her fora human; she certainly looks the part. Her skin is pale, bloodless almost, making the deep crimson of her eyes and lips stand out all the greater. Onyx hair falls over her shoulders in a cascade, disappearing against the black of her dress. She lingers a moment, standing at the top of the steps, her head cocked slightly to the side as she looks down at me, her left hand running a small circle on the top of the bannister. Her eyes glow with an eerie light in the gloom of the manor's interior, red, like other eyes I have seen all too recently, and when she smiles down at me, the sharp points of her canines extend too far.

Dragonfire pools in my hand as I stare up at her. I didn't expect to meet another one of these so soon, but I am ready. I will always be ready for them.

"Good afternoon," the woman at the top of the stairs says, unpreturbed by the fire boiling in my palm. "I am Lady Talagast. I can tell from a glance that you must be Corinth's sister. Your name is Charlene, right?"

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