“What about your family?”
“I doubt they know anything,” Liliana said—again speaking the truth.
The marquess nodded solemnly, then changed his tone. “It’s an honor. But why are you so determined to take part in this matter, even to the point of revealing your secret to me?”
“Because it weighs on Marianne.”
However worthy he seemed to find her, Liliana sensed his reluctance to involve her too deeply. She couldn’t tell whether he had accepted her explanation; instead, an amused light glimmered in his eyes.
“It’s a relief to see you finally act your age,” he said. “I can’t deny that my agents are having trouble. I’ll accept your aid—on the condition that this stays between us.”
Liliana hesitated. She hadn’t expected things to proceed so smoothly.
“Surprised?” the marquess asked with a smile.
“I must admit that I am. At the very least, I expected you to doubt my skill with hexes.”
“Well, I certainly could...” He chuckled, enlivened by the shift in her demeanor. “Young lady, allow me to offer an old man’s advice. When someone accepts your help or places their trust in you, be glad. The arrogant take such things for granted—but you’re not one of them. You negotiate with confidence, yet you understand that talent alone doesn’t inspire trust without proof. That awareness sets you apart from other noble girls.”
He had seen through her completely. Liliana herself often inferred others’ abilities and motives from their behavior. Still, this served as a reminder to stay sharp.
“If you can keep this to yourself,” the marquess continued, watching her intently, “I’ll tell you what’s happening.”
Liliana nodded. She had no reason to refuse.
“The kidnapped boy’s name is Georg. He should be fourteen or fifteen by now. He’s a northerner, and he’s been training in my domain’s knights’ order since last year.”
“Northerner” was a blanket term for those from the lands north of Slivegrandia. In recent years, their numbers had steadily increased throughout the kingdom. Slivegrandia maintained no formal ties with their homelands—an immense mountain range separated the kingdom from the north—so they arrived either overland through the Empire of Yunatian or by sea.
“Over the past few months, more and more northerners have gone missing from my domain,” Marquess Kenneth explained. “We’re investigating the possibility of organized human trafficking.”
Liliana pressed her lips together. “Why target northerners specifically, I wonder?”
“Indeed. Once they’ve completed the required paperwork, they’re as much our people as anyone else. It’s our duty to protect them.”
He truly cared for his domain. Liliana had studied the kingdom’s various territories as part of her crown princess education, and it seemed clear that the Kenneth marquessate’s prosperity stemmed partly from its lord’s consideration.
“If they’re being targeted not only in the marquessates but in Hudore as well, then the operation must be large-scale,” Liliana said. “Do you have any suspects?”
“All we know is that there’s a sizable organization involved. I came to Hudore to pursue them, but they’re always one step ahead.”
Not even the decoy had flushed them out. That, Liliana realized, was likely why the marquess had agreed to her involvement. The two continued to probe one another carefully.
Liliana was about to ask more when she abruptly dispelled the soundproof barrier. She had sensed Marianne and Billy approaching.
“Come in, everyone,” the marquess said.
Marianne, Billy, Gildo, and Olga entered. Gildo looked visibly relieved to see Liliana unharmed. Marianne noticed the lingering tension around her lady and shot her father a reproachful glance. Billy returned to the chair he’d occupied earlier, looking noticeably brighter; his conversation with the handmaiden must have lifted his spirits.
“I brought Georg’s leather belt,” he said. “The guards in Hudore watch anyone carrying a sword closely, so he left it here. Back home, he always wore it.”
Liliana accepted the belt and examined it closely. Mana tended to cling to items that saw frequent use or were kept for a long time, and she intended to use that residue to find its owner. The piece was simple but well-made. An invested knight would usually pair it with a baldric, but Georg seemed not to have used one; instead, his belt was fitted with a sheath sling woven from thick wool in a cable stitch. His sword might have carried traces of others’ mana, but this should bear only his own.
Residual mana isn’t quite mana at all. It’s more of a presence, one could say.
Though distinct from mana proper, it could still be used in a hex to locate its owner.
Liliana spread out a sheet of paper inscribed with a large hexagram and placed the belt at its center. She cast a cognitive impairment spell on both herself and the paper to keep others from noticing her mana use, then set a witchstone at each corner of the hexagram. Each stone was engraved with a single word in ancient script: “fire,” “water,” “wind,” “earth,” “light,” and “darkness.”
As soon as she placed the last witchstone, she channeled mana into the hexagram, and it suddenly flared to life.
A collective gasp rose around the room. The concealment spell made it seem as though the witchstones had activated the magic, when in truth they were only for show. Light surged upward, brushed the ceiling, then dispersed into a thin white mist above the hexagram. Within it, golden letters flickered into being.
“‘Blue roof, weather vane, harbor, water wheel’?” Marianne read aloud, dazed.
“Must be a code,” the marquess said.
“Is Georg somewhere connected to those words?”
All eyes turned to Liliana, and she nodded. The phrases pointed toward the target’s location—yet no one could think of a place that tied them all together.
“It’s been a day and a half since he went missing,” the marquess said gravely. “We’ll need to conduct an exhaustive search, assuming he might no longer be in Hudore. Bring a map of the city and its environs.”
A maid hurried off to carry out the order. When she returned, Liliana moved her hexagram aside, making room for Marquess Kenneth to spread the newly fetched map across the table. She herself only traveled between her estate and the palace, and the marquess seldom explored Hudore even when he visited. That left the task of cracking the code to Billy, who had toured the capital recently, and to Gildo and Olga, who walked its streets regularly.
“‘Weather vane’ is a tough one,” Marianne said. “A church would fit, but I can’t think of any with blue roofs. It has to be something else...”
“Blue roofs are distinctive enough,” Olga murmured. “But a blue roof with a weather vane... Nothing comes to mind.”
They rubbed their temples, no closer to an answer. Gildo remained silent, deep in thought, unnoticed by the others as they pored over the map.
“Speakin’ of weather vanes,” he finally said, “you know they were originally used to ward off evil, right?”
“That they were,” Olga replied. “Do you have an idea?”
Everyone turned toward him, and he nodded slightly. “What about places where churches used to be?”
Surprise rippled through the room.
“I know one,” Gildo continued, a sharp glint in his eye. “It has a weather vane, but not on the roof. I’ve only been there once—it’s a warehouse now, used for harbor goods and grain storage.”
“Entrepôt!” Marquess Kenneth exclaimed.
Entrepôt was a district in western Hudore where goods from the nearby harbor were stored temporarily. One of its warehouses had a blue roof, making it a promising candidate. The only clue that didn’t quite fit was “water wheel.” The others assumed it referred to the grain stored there, since mills were water-powered, but Liliana wasn’t convinced.
That connection feels optimistic at best.
Gildo’s idea had momentum, but it wasn’t wholly satisfying. Still, seeing the quiet certainty in his expression—and lacking a better alternative—Liliana chose to let it stand. The marquess appeared to reach the same conclusion, letting out a low groan as he shifted in his seat.
“I can’t think of anywhere else it might be,” he admitted. “I’ll send my subordinates to Entrepôt for now.”
That left Liliana and the others with nothing else to do. She smiled, then wrote, “Thank you for your magnanimity, despite the sudden nature of my visit and the impertinence of my request.”
“On the contrary,” the marquess replied. “You’ve given us hope. I won’t let word of your involvement spread, but I do hope we can remain on good terms.”
“Your kindness humbles me. By all means, let’s be warmer with one another from now on.”
They exchanged cordial farewells, and Liliana departed the estate. Once inside her coach, she took several small, bird-shaped slips of paper from her pocket.
Spoor.
The papers transformed into invisible birds and took flight. All but one returned to the Kenneths’ town house, shadowing the marquess’s agents as they set out in search of Georg.