"Have a good evening, Kestovar, and do come again next week," Anabeth said gleefully as she led Fabrisse to the entrance of the Von Silberthal residence. "I do hope that you pass your Synaptic practical retakes. Exemplar Konan shall allow you to come along on excursions with us, and how I wish for just one more soul to accompany us. Konan and Hajin can be much too dry."

"I think I can manage it," Fabrisse replied. "And if I fail, I'll take the test again. I don't believe I will fail a third time."

Anabeth gave a crisp nod, the sort that somehow managed to be both approving and superior. "That is the spirit, Kestovar. Resolve always pays its dividend," she said with a bright, composed smile. As the gates swung open and Fabrisse stepped past them, she lifted a hand in farewell. "Until next week, then."

"Good night."

Fabrisse walked out into the evening with the contract folded neatly in his hand. It would do him well to head straight home and lock it away with the others, safe from absentmindedness. Yet one thought rose insistently to the front of his mind: he needed to stop forgetting his arrangements. The hour was already half past eight, and Aldith atta Mere would be waiting for him at the central court by nine.

However, as soon as he stepped back through the nearest gate into the Synod, he stopped short. On a bench just inside the courtyard sat Liene Lugano. The glyphlight caught the tilt of her head and the faint crease in her brow as she absently rolled a lump of clay between her fingers. Fabrisse couldn't tell if it was the same sample she had pocketed from the cave they'd explored weeks ago, or if she simply carried clay around the way others carried coins. With Liene, either was possible.

"You're still here, Liene?" He asked, unable to contain his surprise.

"Oh, I just happen to not have much to do tonight," she said. She had obviously gone back to her room, as she was still fiddling with the clay she hadn't had with her before, but for some reason hadn't considered changing back to her more casual and possibly more comfortable clothing.

Fabrisse shifted the contract in his hand, glancing at the clay again. "I suppose that's fortunate," he said. He didn't even know what would be 'fortunate' about the situation. He just said it without really thinking.

"So, how did it go?" She asked with a small grin. "What's with the fancy paper?"

"Uh . . ." He scratched the back of his head. "I might be employed."

"Oh, that's good—wait, what?" She dropped the clay and frantically tried to catch it before it fell. She failed.

"Are you walking back to the dorm?" He asked. "It might be easier to talk while walking."

Liene bent to scoop the clay back up, laughing at herself even as she brushed the grit from it. "Graceful as ever," she said, tucking the lump back into her palm. When she straightened, her grin was quick and bright, but her shoulders sagged a little as though the motion cost her more than it should have.

"Walking sounds perfect," she said, springing up from the bench with the same lively tone she always used, though Fabrisse noticed she didn't quite bounce the way she usually did. Instead she fell into step beside him, swinging her free hand in exaggerated arcs as if to keep her energy going.

She's probably exhausted too.

"So . . . employed?" she pressed, eyes lighting with curiosity even as a faint yawn betrayed her. "What sort of secret contract did you just stumble into? Don't tell me the Von Silberthals have you polishing their marble corridors for extra Kohns."

Fabrisse glanced around the courtyard: empty, but that never meant safe. He lowered his voice. "Come closer."

Liene tilted her head, amused, but leaned in anyway, still swinging the clay idly in her hand.

"I need this to stay a secret," Fabrisse said. "Do you mind casting a dampening spell while we walk?"

Her grin widened, even through the shadows beneath her eyes. "Oh, so mysterious. You get one little contract and suddenly you're a clandestine operative." Still, she whispered a quick string of syllables. The air around them tightened, and Fabrisse felt the muffling murmurs settle over their footsteps as though the world had put cotton in its ears.

As they walked toward the Central Court, he laid it out for her. He didn't embellish, only recited the facts as he understood them, though he found himself pausing more than once to be sure he hadn't left out a clause or detail.

Liene, for her part, stayed uncharacteristically silent. She hugged the clay to her chest now, no longer fidgeting with it, her gaze fixed on him with an almost exaggerated attentiveness. Every so often she gave a little nod, prompting him to continue.

By the time he finished, she broke into a grin that seemed to chase the weariness from her face. "That's great news! The Von Silberthals are very down-to-earth people. I've never heard any complaints from anyone working with them." She gave him a playful nudge with her elbow. "You should definitely take it. You even get to do what you like too."

"I think I've already made my decision," he said. He'd read the contract one more time at home to be absolutely sure he didn't miss anything crucial, but Liene was right. He should definitely take this. There shouldn't be any clashing with Draeth's arrangement, as long as he kept Draeth a secret from the Von Silberthals, and vice versa. Surely nothing horrific would happen.

"Oh. So you didn't really need my opinion, huh?"

"Well . . ." He scratched the back of his head. "Maybe, maybe not. I just want you to be the first one to hear about it."

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"You—what? The first?" Her voice squeaked a little, and she quickly looked ahead as though the glyphlit streetlamps had suddenly become very interesting. Then, with an awkward laugh, she reached up and ruffled his hair. "Well, aren't you sweet," she said. He didn't know why she had to physically reach out, but he wasn't terribly concerned.

For some reason, Liene moved just slightly behind him all along, and he realized this might be one of the rare times he was the one leading the way instead of her.

At the next intersection, Fabrisse veered right instead of following the straight path toward the dorms. The motion was brisk, unhesitating, as though his feet had already chosen the route before his head caught up. He heard Liene's shoes scuff behind him, the kind of stagger which came from someone who hadn't expected the change.

"I thought you're heading to the dorm? Where are we going?" She asked.

"I just need . . . to see this girl."

"Girl?" Liene echoed, brows lifting as she hugged the lump of clay tighter against her chest.

"She asked to see me, so I need to at least come see her on time."

"Who's that?" She cleared her throat. "She asked to see you at nine?"

"Yeah."

"Oh? Why so?"

"She was flirting with me."

Liene stopped short for half a beat, her shoes scuffing against the stone louder before she caught up again. Her head jerked toward him so fast the clay nearly slipped from her hands. "How do you know that? Are you Fabri's evil clone or something? Fabri doesn't ever pay attention to those things."

"Uh . . ." Fabrisse trailed off, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous it sounded to explain. Liene, meanwhile, kept darting glances at him, and he couldn't tell what she was thinking from her facial expression. She just had that generic baffled look that someone would make when they were, well, baffled.

The Central Court came into view ahead of them, wide and glyphlit. Most of the vendors had already shuttered for the night, their awnings tied down and chairs stacked. At the far end, by the closed coffee stand, a lone figure sat waiting on one of the benches. Atta Mere; she was really here.

She had set a square board across her knees, atop which little carved figurines stood in a staggered line along the edge. With her left hand she advanced a knight-shaped piece, and with her right she blocked its path with a squat soldier. A moment later she reached out with her foot—yes, her foot—and nudged a third piece across the board as though conducting three separate players at once.

Liene slowed beside him, staring outright. "Is that her?"

"Looks like it," Fabrisse said, though a part of him felt compelled to clarify, "She's winning, too."

Liene was about to say something, but Fabrisse had already turned back to her and said, "Can you wait here for a moment?"

Liene pointed at herself. "You sure you don't want me to just leave you two alone?"

"Just a minute."

"Okay . . ." Liene made a little noise in her throat that sounded like a nervous laughter cut short. She hovered near one of the lamp-posts, shoulders hunched, making it painfully obvious that she had no idea how to look natural while waiting.

Fabrisse, meanwhile, walked the rest of the way across the court. Atta Mere looked up as he approached, and a smile spread across her face, neat and self-satisfied.

"Ah, you are punctual," she said in her precise cadence. "A plus point already."

Fabrisse rubbed his shoulder, feeling the contract paper still stiff in his pocket. "Actually," he began, voice stumbling a little. "I have something to say."

Atta Mere set her knight back down with care, folding her hands primly atop the board as if preparing to hear a confession.

"I came to let you know," Fabrisse continued, "that I won't be able to join you for conversations or"—his eyes darted helplessly to the board, where her three sets of pieces stood in half-played battle—"other plans you might have tonight."

For a long moment, she simply studied him. Then, with crisp finality, she tapped one figurine on the board and said, "Five minus points."

Aldith gazed over his shoulder and caught sight of Liene hovering awkwardly near the lamp-post. The corner of her mouth lifted. "Ah," she said, voice carrying a hint of amusement, "I see we are not entirely alone. Hello there."

Liene waved quickly, cheeks pinking, and Fabrisse nearly ducked instinctively.

Aldith turned back to him, her fingers idly tapping a figurine. "Well, Kestovar," she said, her tone teasing rather than stern. "If you'd only handed over your glyph contact, you could've cancelled on me proper easy, you know. But no, you had to show up in person."

Fabrisse's shoulders tensed, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "I—I just didn't want to be rude."

She laughed. "Oh, very well, then. You can head off now."

Fabrisse gave a small, relieved nod before retreating back the way he came. Aldith had already stacked the figurines back into their tray before turning to leave when Fabrisse reached Liene.

"Why did she leave so quickly?" Was the first thing Liene asked.

He noticed something odd about Liene tonight. She was asking question after question, her curiosity almost insistent. If she had been anything like her usual self, she would've just lead the conversation without a second thought.

"I told her I couldn't stay."

"You told her . . . and she just let you go?" Her eyebrows rose. "You really know how to let a girl down, don't you?"

"Well, um . . ." He was now rubbing his other shoulder. "You haven't changed yet. I thought you were expecting us to hang out."

Liene let out a short, sharp laugh and gave a mock-roll of her eyes. "Ah, I see . . . so all those ten new intuition points you earned must've kicked in overnight, then. Suddenly you're . . . insightful, aren't you?"

"I've gained only 6 points."

"I would've thought you had gained 20. But yeah . . ." she sighed, then smiled. "These literal answers are more like you."

Fabrisse looked up at the sky. The stars were scattered across the darkening vault like tiny glyphs. He knew Liene liked to study constellations when she had the time, tracing patterns with the tip of her fingers as if the stars themselves were clay she could mold.

His eyelids drooped despite the pull of the twinkling lights. Today had been an extremely long day. He really wanted nothing more than the softness of his bed and a healthy amount of sleep before his tutoring session first thing tomorrow.

But, the stars . . . Liene would love gazing at the sky during a starry night like this.

Maybe it was the stubborn thought that he'd already disappointed her earlier, leaving her to ask question after question tonight, and maybe part of him thought she was expecting a little company in return.

"So . . . do you want to hang out?" He asked.

Liene held his gaze for a second too long. Then she said, with all the certainty of a housecat pretending it wasn't scared of the thunderstorm. "I don't want to lie to myself tonight."

"What does that mean?" He furrowed his brow. Of course she would switch to cryptic-talk right about now.

She shrugged. "Beats me." Then her bright grin returned to her face." But yes. I do want to hang out."

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