#fancy party pining let's goooooooo

[queen-scribbles]

The Long Burning Torch ch 5

I have vanquished the internet demons and finally bring you the next chapter of my @shepherds-of-haven 20s AU :D ----

After spending a few more minutes annoyed at her inability to talk to Red about the gala, Xaeryn managed to wrench her thoughts back to the case. There was still daylight, she had time to investigate the alleyway following up on what Ferrin had said. Just in case she wound up pushing toward evening, however, she opted to drive rather than walk. There’d been a few news articles recently about an uptick in pickpockets, and it wouldn’t do to make anyone worry.

There was, as luck would have it, a spot not far from the mouth of the alley, and she deftly maneuvered her car into the space between two much newer-model automobiles. Their gleaming black finish made hers look positively dingy by comparison but also brought to mind her tail from the last visit to the museum. Neither, however, had accents of any color, and she was equal parts disappointed and reassured as she headed for the alley.

She started at the entrance and worked in toward the gates, figuring she could continue down the other side if she came up empty. Part of her was cynical about finding anything so long after the fact, but the stubborn part--frustrated by her slow progress on this case--refused to give up without confirming. It didn’t look like this alley was cleaned all that often, maybe there was something useful. 

Besides, it was a distraction from the other thing she needed to find--the nerve to ask Red about the gala. It was much more elusive quarry than anything case related.

What was so hard about asking him?

I don’t want to inconvenience him when he’s already doing so much for me.

You know he’d be happy to help, floated through her mind and only made matters worse.

Disrupting his schedule to travel all the way to Haven is a little different than turning him loose on a research project, she countered, nudging aside a tattered tarp with her shoe. Nothing.

He just told you he doesn’t have as much going in right now. And both of you would drop everything to help the other and you know it.  

Alright, fine, I don’t trust myself. The fact sat solid in her chest as soon as she admitted it, brusquely poking around a stack of discarded pallets. I’m afraid if I ask him to do this, even if it is genuinely as a friend, I won’t be able to hide the way I feel under those circumstances.

It was a tricky thing, carrying a torch for your best friend. And delicacy had never been a strength of hers. She was all honesty and no varnish, too blunt-

Forthright, Red’s voice corrected gently in her head.

--too forthright to be good at playing games and she dreaded what might happen if Red picked up on something bothering her. 

Well, your options are ask him or not go, so if you want to make progress on this case you better get ahold of yourself. You can do this. You are a professional, aren’t you? 

Her foot hit something that skittered away with a clattery rasp, breaking through her internal debate. A keen glance after the object revealed only a rusting crowbar, and Xaeryn gave a soft growl of disappointment. Not far from the crowbar, however, something silver and promising glinted from a jumble of discarded paint cans and crate frames half-stacked into a shelter. She shifted the debris enough to reach and found herself holding a fine black leather sheath, dagger-sized, silver tipped and accented. A silver insignia at the top, opposite the beltloop, bore an unfamiliar crest--what looked like crossed lightning bolts or vines surmounted with a sword, or maybe a lance. It was difficult to tell at that scale.

She balanced the sheath on a nearby broken crate, pulled out her notebook and a pencil and took a rubbing of the crest. A quick shorthand annotation where she’d found it, and then she started to stash it all in her handbag. It would be a bit of a tight fit, but better than carrying her find where it would raise eyebrows.

Xaeryn paused just before slipping the sheath in her bag. She studied it again, catching her lower lip between her teeth. What if... A quick glance at the wall behind her to ensure it was relatively clean and she leaned against the stone while focusing hard on the small sheath. There might, if this belonged to the green-haired man, be enough trace of the owner left to Scry a clue.

The world fell away in a watery grey roil, clarifying into a scene almost as disorienting as the shift itself. The viewing angle was odd, a blur of motion off-center drawing her attention. It shifted into focus, resolving into a pair of figures mid-scuffle. One was a green-haired man, clothes decent but nondescript aside from currently being mussed by the fight, the other she couldn’t make out beyond a wild beard and the impression of ragged clothes. A street bum maybe? They tussled, each getting in a few good licks, there was a gleam of metal in their grappled hands, then one’s foot caught the sheath, sending it spinning toward its resting place and jolting Xaeryn out of the vision.

She teetered, slapping one hand to the wall for balance. After a few moments, her head cleared and she looked at the sheath clutched in her other hand. Now to figure out the heraldry, see if this clue could carry her even further.

“Finally, something solid to chase,” she muttered under her breath. It was a relief, like gaining purchase after trying to run on ice.

Satisfied she’d gleaned what she could from the sheath, Xaeryn slipped it into her handbag and continued searching to see if there was anything else. An hour or two combing the rest of the alley came up empty, but she didn’t mind terribly, not with the dagger sheath tucked in her purse.  A flash of discordant color caught her eye as she passed the back gates again despite the lengthening shadows; a drip of red paint on the cobblestone and one metal gatepost. Dried, but not faded, so fairly recent.

Her thoughts went to what Ferrin had seen; the green-haired man trying to grab or touch one of the trucks. What if, rather, he’d been marking it somehow? Worth looking in to.

Two clues for the price of one. Should’ve given him more money, Xaeryn mused as she headed out to her car. She checked her watch. The library would be closing soon, not enough time for a proper research session. She could do that tomorrow. As well as making a couple phone calls.

Nerves fluttered in her gut, knowing what one of those needed to be. She took a deep breath and pushed them down. It was just Red. She could talk to Red. She did it all the time.

About this sort of thing? the skeptical thoughts broke in again.

Xaeryn ignored it, settling herself behind the wheel and starting the car. She could ask him about this. Hopefully without fumbling. It was just asking a favor of a friend, one she knew he’d be amenable to granting because he’d said as much.

So why wouldn’t the butterflies go away?

She shook her head to chase away the thought and headed back to her office. Today had been very productive. Whether it was further cowardice or simply pragmatism, she was done with... anything tied to the case for the night.

---

Xaeryn stared at the telephone as if it would bite her. The same internal debate that had kept her up half the night still raged in her head.

God’s blood, woman, just because you’re dizzy for the man... Call him. It’s for a case. Not like you’re asking him on an actual date or confessing your feelings or anything like that. Just asking for a favor. A slightly awkward favor, maybe, but just a favor.

Before she could talk herself out of it (again), Xaeryn snatched up the receiver and dialed Red’s office number. Maybe she’d get lucky and he wouldn’t be in, she could put it off-

“Hello?”

She fumbled a moment, trying to get her stuttered heart back in rhythm. “I... almost didn’t expect you to be in this early.”

“Ryn?” The surprise was clear in his voice.

“Mm-hm.” She shifted the receiver to her other hand and bit her lip. “There’s... I forgot to ask you something yesterday.”

“Oh.” Red still sounded off-kilter, but the usual warmth was creeping back into his voice. “It’s good you called, actually, I did-”

“More research?” Xaeryn guessed archly, laughing when his silence served as an answer. “Liefred, when do you sleep?”

“When I need to,” he said, which was... not the answer she wanted, but was the one she’d expected. “What did you want to ask?”

“It can keep a few minutes,” she said, happy to take a little longer plucking up the nerve. “What did you find in this research?”

He yawned, which made her smile and wonder if he’d been asleep at his desk. “Given the source is a book of legends, I’m not sure if this is truth, or hearsay, or a complete tall tale, but if someone believes it’s credible I guess that’s irrelevant b’cause it could still be motivation-”

“Liefred.” She couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll take anything you were kind enough to find me.”

A sheepish chuckle. “Just wanted you aware, so you can take it with the appropriate grains of salt. There’s supposedly, according to this legend, a ritual that at least the original tribe to find Solimer’s Torch used, that could... focus its general protection and good fortune on an individual for a short while. The scholar who recorded the tale wrote that her source claimed this ritual could make the subject... invincible. I’m not so sure about that part,” he admitted, voice straining briefly as if stretching. “Seems a bit far fetched. Focusing magic can be done, but a good luck charm making someone fully invincible is a bridge too far for me without more evidence.”

Xaeryn laughed softly. “Fair. But like you said; doesn’t matter if it’s actually true, all it takes is someone believing it is to become a reason they’d try to get their hands on it.”

“True,” Red said wryly, “though I wish them the best of luck getting it to work in that case. This book was buried in the dustiest corner of Solhadur’s library and it’s the only thing I’ve found that so much as mentions such a ritual. And even this only has vague descriptions of what’s involved, hardly point by point instructions to make it work.”

“Mmm. Can you tell me what it says, regardless? Never know what’ll be important.”

“See, this is why you always aced tests,” Red teased. “You write everything down.”

“Hence the shorthand,” she returned lightly. “You can fit more on a page and I was tired of spending a fortune on notebooks.”

“I figured it was something like that.” He rattled off what he had, and Xaeryn scribbled it all down with a note in the margin about the dubious veracity. “So, what did you want to ask me, Xaer?”

She’d completely forgotten the purpose of her call, chinning about history, and the reminder felt like being shoved off a cliff. “Oh. Right. Um.” Her gut twisted in a knot and she swallowed hard, pencil tapping rapidly against her knuckle as she scrambled for the best way to do this. “You remember mentioning the King of Elinden was going to be at a gala here in  Haven, if I wanted to take the opportunity to talk to him?”

“Mm-hm.” The quiet grunt was laden with blatant curiosity. Of course he remembered, it had juts been yesterday.

“Well, Ms. Aescar, the current owner of  Solimer’s Torch, is also going to be there.”

“Sounds like the perfect place for you to investigate; two for the price of one,” Red said. “But I don’t see what it has to do with me?”

“I need a date,” Xaeryn blurted, then fought the urge to bang her head against her desk because that was the wrong way round.

The dead silence on the line meant she’d caught Red more than a little off-guard with it, too.

“The Merchants Guild, well, Whitestone Couriers, can get me tickets to this gala, but it’s apparently unseemly to attend solo, so I... need a date. Since I’m not seeing anyone, I was... hoping you could come? It’s tomorrow night and I’m so sorry for asking last minute-”

“Of course I can,” Red cut her off, fondness in his voice. “Anything for you, Xaer, you know that.”

A strange mix of emotions she did not want to deal with blossomed in her chest, relief so sharp she could taste it. “You’re sure? Don’t you have classes or-”

“I’m sure. I can get other teachers to cover whatever needs it. The students will probably be happy to have someone who doesn’t veer off down rabbit trails every twenty minutes,” he said dryly, then cleared his throat. “And I told you it’s a lighter load right now, anyway. You said tomorrow night?”

“Mmhm. Starts at six.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Liefred, you’re a lifesaver,” Xaeryn said fervently. And I could kiss you.

“What’re friends for?” he countered warmly. “I’m happy to help.”

“Oh, and it’s, um, black tie, so you’ll need a suit,” she warned, her equilibrium coming back, then added teasingly, “assuming you still have one.”

“I’ll dig it out of mothballs,” Red retorted with a laugh. “See you tomorrow, Xaeryn.”

“Mm-hm. Thank you, truly.” Xaeryn bit her lip, more hovering just on the tip of her tongue. But the words stayed stuck as always, tangled on a decade’s absence, on things she’d left unsaid before. So she settled for another grateful hum of acknowledgement when he insisted it was no trouble, they exchanged farewells and hung up.

Xaeryn braced her elbows against the desk, rested her face in her hands, and let out a long sigh of relief. Thank the One-God that’s over with. It wasn’t really; she’d still have to get through him being here, seeing her office and home, keep her feelings tucked away through him accompanying her to this gala.

“If there’s dancing, I might not be strong enough,” she mumbled into the heels of her hands. But at least the asking part was behind her. She could call Ms. Aerin and confirm she had a companion, pass along the needed information. And she had a few new questions of her own, after the visit to the alley last night.

A couple deep breaths to truly regrasp her composure and she picked up the telephone again. This call would, at least, be much easier to make.

“Whitestone Couriers, how may I help you?” Ms. Aerin answered on the first ring.

“It’s Detective Shrike,” Xaeryn said, leaning back in her chair. “I was able to find a companion for the gala and wanted to give you the details you needed.”

There was a brief rustle on the other end, then, “Go ahead, Miss Shrike.”

Xaeryn gave her the names and titles to pass along to the museum. “I also followed a lead last night which bore fruit, along a couple branches, and raised some follow-up questions for you, if you have the time.”

“We aren’t busy yet,” Ms. Aerin confirmed. “Ask away.”

“First off, I assume after a completed delivery, all of the vehicles involved are returned to the garage for maintenance to make sure they’re in good working order?” Mr. Syndran seemed the type.

“Correct, standard procedure,” Ms. Aerin said briskly. “It’s the best way to catch minor issues before they turn into major ones. They are also cleaned, checked for heavier wear and tear, that sort of thing, before you ask.”

“That is where I was heading. Do you keep records of anything found and dealt with in this maintenance?” Xaeryn tapped her pencil against the notepad, absently doodling a bird in one corner of a page.

“Mm, Mr. Syndran insists on detailed reports. So if any vehicle is consistently having problems it can be replaced, and if any driver is repeatedly rough on their vehicle they can be reprimanded.”

“Do you have the records from the artefact delivery handy?” She added a tree below the doodled bird, telephone wedged between cheek and shoulder.

“Oh, yes. They haven’t been filed yet, they’re still on my desk.” A rustle of paper. “Are those the only ones you need?”

“Yes, I believe so. I’m just wondering about something from this trip, not comparing to previous ones.” Xaeryn shifted to hold the receiver. “Did any of the trucks have paint on them?”

“Mmm...” There was a pause as Ms. Aerin shuffled through the pages. “Yes, actually. Trucks one, four, and six all had green paint on their tires, wheel wells, running boards. Truck four also had some red streaked on the rear panel and tailgate,” she read off. “They said there was a painter’s truck that upset on one street. Is that helpful?”

“Very.” A buzz of anticipation had started at the back of her mind. “One other record I do need; do you have the manifest of which artefacts were on which trucks?”

“Not in front of me, but just a moment.” Ms. Aerin set the phone down with a soft clunk, there was a minute or two of silence--which Xaeryn filled with more doodling--and then, “Miss Shrike? The Torch was on truck four.”

Gotcha. Xaeryn grinned. “Thank you Ms. Aerin, you’ve been a tremendous help. I’ll see you tomorrow night at the gala?”

“If all goes well,” Ms. Aerin confirmed. “Goodbye, Miss Shrike.”

“Goodbye.” Xaeryn hung up and steepled her fingers. This lead was paying off so well, she might toss Ferrin another deucalion if she ever encountered him again. Although, she mused, I did have to chase him down to get it. Maybe we’re even.

For now, though, she had more work to do. And if she walked to enjoy the weather, the library would be open by the time she got there. She flipped back to the notebook page with the insignia rubbing to confirm it was clear enough she wouldn’t need to bring the actual sheath to research the design. Satisfied it was, she jiggled the drawer knob, then pushed to her feet to fetch a hat and head out.

---

The library was even quieter than normal this early, which made the argument the reference clerk wanted to have seem all the more asinine.

“Why can’t I see those books?” Xaeryn demanded in a harsh whisper. “I don’t even need to take them out of the building, I’m quite happy to do my research right here.”

“It has recently become a trend among the youths and miscreants of the city to... deface our books,” the clerk replied stiffly, adjusting one sleeve so the cuff was straight.

“Do I look like either of those things?!” Xaeryn hissed.

She didn’t miss the look the clerk flicked at her illadrin-glow. “Irrelevant, as the time and funds spent repairing or replacing books has led to the decision against lending out some of our more vital or venerable texts unless an acceptable reason can be given.”

“I need them to do research for a case,” she said with a huff, just barely holding back the you twit she wanted to stick on the end.  She wasn’t going to pass this off on Red, too, she wasn’t. He’d already gone above and beyond and this was simple enough to do herself. Or so she’d thought.

The clerk arched a brow. “You hardly look like you belong to the police force, miss. And they have their own records, anyway.”

With an exasperated sigh, Xaeryn pulled out her ID and PI license. She fanned them out to display. “Freelance detective, not police. May I please use the reference books to work on my case? I’ll sit right where you can see me if I really have to.”

After a narrow-eyed look at the cards, the clerk sighed and relented. “Very well. I’ll bring them out, you take a seat.”

“Thank you,” Xaeryn muttered, shoving the cards in her skirt pocket for easy access in case anyone else gave her trouble. She understood and even endorsed caution in caring for books, but these lengths struck her as a little screwy.

It only took a few minutes for the clerk to wheel out a small cart half-full of thick tomes, leave it beside her table, and retreat behind the circulation desk. Xaeryn wasn’t fooled; she would be under scrutiny the entire time she had these books. The sensation of being watched was not going to help with doing this quickly.

She sighed, pulled out the reference books, and tried to ignore the eyes-on-her-back feeling as she dug into her research. It didn’t take long before she was surrounded by an array of opened books; flipping pages to cross-check information, scribbling notes as she read. The hours flew by, and she barely noticed when the original clerk was replaced by a young woman with white blonde hair in an unseasonably warm sweater. (She only noticed at all because the woman asked brusquely if she needed anything, which Xaeryn met with an equally brusque assurance she didn’t, not even looking up from her book.) The books were very informative, perhaps too much so. There were at least fifteen countries, city-states, or sects with lighting in their heraldry. Dozens, both archaic and contemporary, with a line or weapon of some sort surmounted over lightning or vines or the like. She finally narrowed it down to a half dozen with heraldry that was close match to the rubbing she’d taken of the sheath’s insignia. Two of them belonged to factions currently embroiled in the conflict on Elinden; the current king--Kaza; more of a warlord, if she was reading right--and his strongest contender. She wondered briefly if that made clashes between them confusing as she neatly stacked the books on the edge of the table near the cart. She knew how librarians were about shelving books. She stowed her notepad in her handbag and approached the circulation desk.

The blonde still seated there raised disinterested lilac eyes and arched a brow.

“Just wanted to let you know I’m finished,” Xaeryn said. “So someone can reshelve the books.”

“Sure,” said the blonde with barely a glance at the table. “Have a good day.”

“You as well,” Xaeryn replied, despite the farewell lacking any warmth and sounding more rote than genuine. She mulled over what she had found on the walk home. Too many threads were tying to Elinden for it to be a coincidence. The island’s distance from Haven--and insular focus on a four-way civil war--would explain why it had taken so long to arise as a possibility. There was also, she mused, a high concentration of Mages among the populace, which would increase the odds of unusual hair colors. Like green. She really needed to find a way to talk to the king at the gala, and maybe some of his retinue as well, if she could swing it.

Xaeryn was so lost in thought as she approached her street, the sudden, harsh yank against her handbag caught her completely off-guard. She still instinctively curled her arm in to hold on to it, but the thief had too much leverage with the element of surprise on his side, and she lost her grip.

She lunged after the bolting figure, noting what she could of his appearance as he dodged around a corner. Xaeryn was trailing by just enough that when she rounded the corner he had disappeared from sight.

“Dammit,” she growled, scuffing one shoe against the walk. She ventured a short way down the alley, but with no dagger--it had been in her bag--she didn’t press too far.

She made her way up to her office, mentally scolding herself for her distraction the whole way. She knew there were pickpockets and purse-snatchers in the neighborhood. There was worse, too, though that, fortunately, was still rare. It was still not a good idea for her to have been paying so little attention.

When she reached her door, Xaeryn sent a small prayer of thanks to the One-God that caution had paid off in one respect and withdrew the office key on its chain around her neck, clinking softly against the one for her desk. Bordering a dodgy neighborhood as she did, it was prudent to keep her keys safe from said pickpockets. Just in case. She entered, checked the sigil--no sign of further attempts to enter--and removed her hat before sitting at the desk to take stock  of what she’d lost.

Pocket change--a couple deucalions and a handful of lyss--she wouldn’t miss too terribly, a plain but serviceable dagger about which she could say the same-- and her notebook. Her ID and PI license were, thank God, still in her skirt pocket, and she set them on the desk with a small sigh of relief. They would have been a pain to get reissued.

But her notebook. All of her notes, all of the interviews, all the info Red had found for her. All gone. And to someone who would like as not throw it away.

It was a bad day for her and the thief both, Xaeryn reflected, unless he had been in the market for a dagger. Not much money, and the notebook was worthless to anyone but her as they wouldn’t be able to read it. But to her it was hours or work, pertinent information, ripped away just when she needed it most.

With a much heavier sigh, she pulled out a sheet of paper and started rapidly recording everything she remembered from the library. Best to start with what was freshest, and she could try for other things after that.

---

She wrote until her hand cramped, then a little bit more before reluctantly coming to  halt. She also jotted down and roughly sketched what she’d caught of the thief’s features. But there was a reason she usually doodled nature rather than people and this was a reminder why.

Xaeryn tucked the pages she’d filled in the desk drawer with the photographs and sheath and locked it. With research and other excitement out of the way, and her entry to the museum gala confirmed, there was another matter that required tending to, much as she dreaded the thought.

She needed an evening gown.

---

The rest of the day passed uneventfully; the tedium of shopping and then some more time spent reconstructing notes from interviews and such. Trying to ignore the steadily building flutter in her gut at the thought of what tomorrow held.

One-God only knew how she slept that night, but she did. Xaeryn very pointedly did not look at the garment bag protecting her evening attire as she dressed. That was for later, now she pulled on her favorite blouse--blue with white and green embroidery at the collar--and wide-legged trousers. The day was spent copying her sloppily scribbled notes into a new red-bound notepad that had been one of her purchases yesterday for clarity’s sake. She did a little more poking around the museum, but they were starting to increase security for the gala and she didn’t want to draw suspicion, as that might complicate her entry to the gala later.

Really, there wasn’t much to do until she could interview Ms. Aescar and the King of Elinden, which left her at loose ends. Xaeryn hated that feeling with a passion on normal days, today was even worse.

She cleaned her kitchen--something she’d been meaning to do, anyway, and a good way to fill the time--then tried to read a book. But even Tarquin the Elder’s grandiose theories weren’t enough to hold her focus today, and she was almost relieved when a knock on the door interrupted her eighth time through the same two pages.

She marked her spot and hurried across the room, glancing at the clock as she went. If this was a client, she hoped they were succinct. Red would be here--

She opened the door.

---now. She blinked. “Liefred.”

He smiled, warm with only a hint of hesitation. “Xaer. Don’t tell me I spoke to a very clever imposter on the phone and this is an unexpected visit.”

Xaeryn laughed, the moment’s teasing enough time to gather her wits.  “Unexpected, no. Earlier than expected, yes,” she admitted.

Red’s smile went sheepish and he ran one hand through his hair. “Yes, sorry. We may have overestimated how long the drive in would take.” He gestured to a familiar figure behind him in the hall.

“We nothin’,” Pan laughed. “That was all you, Liefred. Ryn, good to see you.” He held out a hand to shake in greeting.

Xaeryn did so with alacrity. “And you, Pan. Though I am surprised” --turned back to Red as she motioned the pair into her office-- “you didn’t just translocate.”

“Not a good idea with an unfamiliar city this size,” he said, running a curious eye over the room and its furnishing as he spoke. “Especially one so developed. The odds are too high of ending up on a roof or halfway through a wall, or somewhere you shouldn’t be, that sort of thing.”

She grinned and half-sat on the edge of her desk. “Why does that last one sound like the voice of experience?”

Red coughed, ears coloring to match his hair at her teasing tone. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Pan nodded broadly behind his back, mouthing ‘Tell you later’, which made her snicker.

Red ignored the exchange. “And, anyway, it didn’t seem worth the bother when I have a friend with a car.”

“And I thought it would be a good chance to see a couple of old pals,” Pan continued, leaning against the wall. “You, of course, and Neon apparently got himself a job with a Mage company that specializes in Enchantment and Binding; I was gonna see if I could track him down and surprise him.”

“Neon’s in Haven?” Xaeryn said, brows arching. She wished she’d known.

“At least a few months now,” Pan nodded. “You didn’t know?”

“It’s a big city,” she sighed, shrugging. “And I hadn’t been in touch with anyone from Solhadur for a decade until recently.” She almost thought she saw Pan smirk when her gaze drifted to Red. But it was gone a moment later and she chalked it up to imagination. “So I assume that’s what you’ll be up to while we’re busy tonight?”

“Yep. And if it doesn’t work out, well,” Pan shrugged, “I’m sure there’s plenty to do, either out and about or back at our hotel.”

“The Quarters’ Rest,” Red volunteered before she could ask. “I figured the gala will run late, they usually do. So we can just sleep here and worry about getting back to Capra in the morning.”

“Smart thinking,” Xaeryn said. It was a good hotel; decent, clean, and modest enough it had escaped being booked up by the visiting wealthy. She bit her lip in thought. “It’ll be good to have the time at the gala; you never know how much conversation it’ll take someone to loosen up. And it gives you somewhere to relax, with a bit of elbow room when it’s time to change. On that topic” --she braced a hand against her desk and smiled at Red’s examination of her bookshelf-- “should we meet at the hotel to head over, or do you want to meet here? This is a bit closer, and if the weather holds we may even be able to walk. If it doesn’t, I have a car.”

“Let’s say here,” Pan suggested before Red even opened his mouth. “I can drop him off before I go hunt down Neon, pick him up again at, what, midnight?”

“That works for me,” Red agreed. “Ryn?”

“Cat’s meow,” Xaeryn confirmed. She drummed her fingers against the desk. “Be here at twenty of six so we have time if we walk, then we’ll aim to return at midnight.”

Red and Pan both nodded.

“We should go check in, get settled,” Pan said, pushing away from the wall.  “Xaer, again, good to see you.”

“You didn’t do that first?” She hoped no one had bothered their luggage, sitting on the street unattended. Not a worry that would usually occur, bit with that dip snatching her purse yesterday...

“Somebody” --a significant look at Red-- “insisted you be our first stop.” He grinned and headed out the door.

“I wanted to make sure you knew we were here,” Red said with a one-shoulder shrug.

“Telephones exist, Liefred,” Xaeryn said dryly, but couldn’t help a smile. (Or deny her heart skipping a beat.)

One he returned with mischief in his eyes. “I also confess to curiosity about your office. Since you’ve gotten to see mine twice, it seemed fair,” he teased, then cast an approving look around the space. “You’ve made a nice niche for yourself here, Xaer.”

Xaeryn’s smile widened and she fought down the flutter in her gut. “Thank you. I quite like it myself.”

“It suits you,” he said warmly, turning toward the door. “I shouldn’t keep him waiting...”

“Of course. See you later.”

“Twenty of six,” Red confirmed with a nod, giving her arm a friendly squeeze on his way to the door. “I won’t be late.”

---

He wasn’t late. There was a small part of Xaeryn that wondered how much credit belonged to Pan for that and how much had been Red remembering the time on his own.

Any teasing she’d been contemplating to that effect, however, was precluded by the matching low whistles from Pan and Red when she opened the door.

“Guess that answers the question of if I look presentable,” she laughed instead, face and neck warming. It had been a very long time since she dressed up, and never this fancy.  Or maybe that heat was from Red in a tuxedo.

“I think presentable is, uh, underselling it,” he fumbled, and the flutter growing in her chest got stronger.

“Yeah, I thought you gumshoes worked best with a low profile,” Pan chuckled.  “Gorgeous dame walking in with glad rags like that, your profile’ll be anything but low, Ryn.”

“Thank you, but I think you underestimate the quality of people who attend these sorts of shindigs,” Xaeryn demurred. Regardless, she couldn’t fight a pleased smile as she ran a hand down the shimmering deep-blue evening gown, playing briefly with the long silver-tasseled necklace that matched the sparkling headband nestled among her hair. She turned to Red, smiling--unsteadily, but hopefully he missed that part--as she ran another look over his ensemble. “Fortunately, I do believe we’ll fit right in. You’re looking very handsome, quite a bit beyond presentable yourself.”

And despite the joke about digging his tuxedo out of mothballs, it fit like it had been tailored that day. The deep black and crisp white shirt were a flattering contrast to his tan skin, and Xaeryn feared distraction would be a bigger problem for her than subtlety tonight.

Red laughed and glanced out the window. “Thanks.”

“Though I see your hair’s up to old tricks,” she said fondly, throat dry around the words. She stepped closer, praying her pounding heart wasn’t too obvious, and gently ran her fingers through his hair to comb it back into place.

Red went still, a soft laugh escaping as she finished. “Thank you. It seems no matter what I try to tame it, it maintains a mind of its own.”

“Persistence is key, I suppose,” Xaeryn said with a wry and somewhat shaky laugh of her own. God’s eyes, I don’t know if I can do this.... One last smoothing of wayward red strands and she withdrew. “There-”

Red’s hand brushed her ear and it was her turn to freeze, heart in her throat.

“Your, ah, earring is crooked,” he said by way of explanation, gently nudging the jewelry into a proper position.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, watching a muscle in his jaw twitch in time with her heart skipping a beat. Her fingers grazed his when she instinctively reached for the earring as well, even knowing he’d taken care of it.

“So,” Pan spoke up, and Xaeryn couldn’t suppress a flinch at the reminder of his presence, “midnight’s a good time for me to come back?”

Xaeryn cleared her throat. His tone might be casual, but they’d been friends too long for her to miss the mischief in his eyes and it made her nervous. “Yes,” she replied, hoping she had enough composure to sound just as casual. “That should give plenty of time for me to have my conversations, perhaps do some other investigating, if warranted...”

“Don’t forget time for mingling and dancing if they have it,” Pan pointed out, grinning now as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “So you don’t blow your cover.”

Who’s the detective here? She bit back the retort with some effort, pulse fluttering at the thought, and restrained herself to a, “Yes, of course. If we happen to not be back yet when you get here, you can go have fun for another hour or go back to your hotel and we’ll call when we make it back.”

“Right.” His grin widened. “I’ll see you later, then, pals. Try not to have too much fun.”

“He’s knows we’re going to a museum, right?” Red muttered, and she huffed a quiet laugh. The location was tailor-made for them to have too much fun.

“This is business,” Xaeryn returned primly, slipping her arm through Red’s like a proper aristocratic couple. “And unlike some, we know how to behave ourselves.”

Pan laughed--“Touche”--and pulled the door closed behind him.

“So...” Red began, looking down at their linked arms.

“So...” Xaeryn echoed, trying valiantly not to let the warmth soaking through his suit jacket distract her. “I know I mentioned walking, and it would normally be my preference, in all honesty. But I was thinking about it, and for an event like this it might raise eyebrows if we arrive on foot. We should probably take my car.”

“Mm, good thought,” he said, making no move to slip his arm free of hers even if they were still just standing in her office. “Aren’t you worried about it getting damaged?”

“Not particularly. Events like this typically have valets, who tend to be careful, given the consequences of mishandling a patron’s automobile. Besides, while mine is nice enough to not be an eyesore, it isn’t so nice I’ll be distraught over a few dings.”

“Practical and pragmatic as ever,” Red teased, lightly elbowing her in the ribs.

“It’s part of my charm,” Xaeryn rejoined just as lightly, not wanting to ruin the moment by admitting the opposite usually proved true. People tended to be off-put by her manner almost as much as her magic.

Red chuckled. “Well, since we don’t need the time to walk over, are we having a chat here, or just going to arrive unfashionably early? This is your show, Ryn, I’m just here to help out.”

“If we go at a mosey we won’t be terribly early,” she said, even if she quite liked the thought of bumping gums with him in her office for a bit. “And it might be good if I can get a slant on people as they arrive.” Just because her clues were pointing to Elinden didn’t mean she was closed to other options.

“If that’s best for you,” he said easily, bumping his shoulder to hers.

Her heart fluttered and Xaeryn bit back a smile. “Just let me get my purse.” The small grey clutch barely had room for her keys, notepad, and a compact in case she needed to freshen her minimal makeup--either in truth or as a ploy to snoop. But it was the most she felt she could get away with for an event like this, and the blue and white beading was an excellent complement to her dress. She returned to link her arm through Red’s once more. “Shall we, Headmaster?”

“We shall, Miss Shrike,” Red answered with one of his dazzling smiles, and they headed out the door.

God help her.