"A fine day to take a walk through the countryside. Wouldn't you agree, dove?"

Garret looked into the sky, blessedly absent of mists, and breathed deep. The sun shone gloriously overhead. The summer air was warm and dry. A thousand years could go by, and the spired City of Althandor would still never see a day such as this.

"Spare me," Garret's companion grunted. Elise was a pretty thing. Exotic in every way possible. Silky, blonde hair. Clear, green eyes. Dusky skin. Slim waist. Ample bust. She was rather tall as well, nearly of a height with Garret himself. A jewel such as her had no business being so spiteful.

"Come now, dove," Garret cajoled as he adjusted his gray bowler hat. "You can't expect me to believe you prefer the dankness of the city to the rural charms of Gaulatia."

Elise grunted wordlessly. She did that often. Curious, it did nothing to detract from her allure.

Garret had always felt an attraction to dangerous women, and his dove might have been the most dangerous woman he had known in years.

She must have been. By decree of the king of Althandor himself, Elise was granted her life. Her race, the Aleesh, were supposed to be extinct, yet the crown allowed her to remain free. Garret would have given much to know how she had managed it.

Of course, her continued existence came with a hefty price, one Garret didn't think he could ever bring himself to pay.

"You talk too much," Elise muttered.

"I know," Garret replied as if burdened by the truth of it. "A failing. But even you must admit that of the twenty-five failings a man may fall to, mine is among the least problematic."

"Among the most annoyin'," she said under her breath.

Garret chuckled and clasped her arm tighter against him as they strolled down the dusty lane.

Gaulatia was a delight. Everywhere he looked, Garret saw green, and blue, and yellow. Each color battled with the next for the right to be the first to reach his eyes. No, that wasn't quite right. They swirled together in harmony, agreeing that each of them were supreme.

On a distant hill, Garret spotted the silhouettes of massive horses for only a moment before they vanished over the horizon. How disappointing. One of the main reasons he took on this job was for the chance to get a close look at one of the famous Gaulatian steeds.

This land was so different from the rest of the Five Kingdoms. While Althandor stood as the height of power in the land, Gaulatia was pushed aside as a mere afterthought. The Fifth Kingdom, some called it. The fools thought it an insult.

Garret looked over the fields that surrounded them. The green pastures had cows in them. Cows! Before today, he hadn't ever lain eyes on an animal bigger than a dog.

A few of the docile creatures had their heads stuck through the slats of the fence surrounding their master's property. Their surprisingly long and agile tongues wrapped around tufts of grass and tugged it up into their mouths. Those that weren't thoroughly engrossed in filling their bellies watched Garret and Elise stroll by with eyes that almost seemed intelligent.

"Stupid things," Elise growled.

"My dear," Garret exclaimed, his tone affronted. "They're absolutely lovely."

Elise fixed him with a look that revealed her opinion of Garret's sanity. "Try workin' the herd for a half-day, then tell me how 'lovely' the blazin' things are."

"I think I would enjoy that," Garret said with a smile. He felt an urge to go up to the fence and see if one would let him stroke its nose.

Actually, that was a marvelous idea!

He withdrew from Elise and bound over to the nearest spot on the fence where several of the animals grazed.

Elise made a vexed noise and rubbed at her temples.

Garret thought he really ought to make more of an effort to cater to the woman. From what little he had learned of her in their brief time together, he deduced that she valued the destination over the journey. She was a creature of efficiency. Admirable, in some ways, but it had the unfortunate tendency of turning her into something of a bore.

"Winds and storms," Garret exclaimed, "I didn't expect they'd be so warm!"

The heat of the creature was like a little fire. The cow didn't seem to mind Garret petting its head in the slightest. One of the other cows lowed softly nearby.

"You want some as well?" Garret obliged the creature by scratching behind its large ears. The ears had curious notches cut into them. Some manner of marking by the owner, perhaps?

"Are you about done?" Elise shouted. "If you're that enamored by the blazin' things, I'll buy you a steak in town."

"Don't listen to her," Garret whispered to the animal. "She's grumpy because we have work to do today. Yes, she is."

A surreptitious look over his shoulder revealed a woman pulling at her blonde hair in frustration.

"Very grumpy," Garret reaffirmed.

"Moo," the cow agreed.

"Oh, you mustn't judge her too harshly, my friend. She is quite lovely once you get to know her."

"Moo?"

"I assume. I'm afraid I haven't really had the chance to get to know her yet."

The rustle of grass behind him preceded a surprisingly strong grip on the back of his collar. Elise all but dragged him back to the lane despite his protests.

"Goodbye, my bovine friends. May we meet again!"

"Moo." The cows' farewell had a hint of sorrow to it.

Garret felt a laugh on his lips as he returned to the journey into town. That had been a delightful diversion.

"Just my luck to be saddled with a madman," Elise said with a scowl as she tucked her arm through his. "Actin' like that's gonna get you noticed. That's the last thing we want. Or have you forgotten why we're in this backwater?"

Garret adjusted the collar of his suit. If the woman had rumpled it, he'd certainly have some words for her. Couldn't she tell that it was tailored? Of course she could. Even a daanman wouldn't be so dense. That meant she was simply as crude as she pretended to be.

Garret had held out hopes that Elise's rustic accent and mannish walk were affectations born of her trade. No such luck. She truly was a bumpkin.

"I haven't forgotten anything, dove. I know this trade as well as you. I've been hunting arcanists for many years."

Her grip on his arm became like a set of talons. "You're awfully keen on remindin' me. But that don't stop you from sayin' so every five minutes like you don't care who knows it."

Garret scoffed. "Are the cows going to inform on us?"

Elise slowly turned her head towards him. He could feel her eyes like two icy pinpricks against his skin. "Possibly. The old man, we're not knowin' what he is yet. He could've had a scry on us since we stepped offen the train for all we know."

Garret sighed. "For all you know, perhaps. I know better."

Elise's scorn was as prominent as her cheekbones. "Oh, right. I forgot. A lil' daanman like me should be honored to be escorted by a highfalutin arcanist."

"Hold your venom, dove. I spoke in haste. I think no less of you simply because your ether has been sold."

"Stolen!"

"Whatever. I don't know your story. As if you'd share it for the asking, in any case. Suffice it to say that I know we haven't been scried."

Elise didn't make any further angry comments, but her grimace didn't go away. After a few minutes of sullen, awkward silence, she spoke up again. "How?"

"Pardon?"

"How do you know we haven't been scried?"

Garret let himself smile. It should have put her at her ease, but it only deepened that frown of hers. How was it possible for something so belligerent to be so lovely? "A scrying is of one of the seven schools. Divination, in this case."

"I'm a daanman, not an idiot," Elise growled. "Just because I can't use magic doesn't mean I don't know anything about it. I wouldn't've survived in this line of work for this long without knowin' basic spellcraft."

Garret tipped the brim of his bowler hat to her in apology. "My mistake. It won't happen again. To answer you, I would have sensed a scrying. An arcanist can feel the effect spells have on the Ethereum."

Elise rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows you magic types can tell that. We also all know there are spells to hide other spells. If the old man is as careful as Lady Tarlen says, he'd be hidin' the scry."

Garret nodded to her. She wasn't wrong, she was simply unaware of all the information. "A precaution many would deem wise, even to spy on two seemingly innocuous individuals fresh off the train from Althandor. However, this isn't the case."

Elise raised an eyebrow. "Spill it, fancy man."

Charming, when she wished to be. "Divination falls under the purview of three of the five kinds of arcanist. Witches are particularly fond of this school and are the masters. Sorcerers are capable, if inelegant in their use. Wizards, such as myself, often study the school as well."

"And?" Elise asked impatiently.

"I know for a fact that our friend in town is none of these three."

She pulled short and yanked her arm from his. "You blazin'... How? How do you know? Why wasn't I told? Flames, you half-wit! Don't you think this is important?"

"Come now, dove. You mustn't be so loud. I haven't told you because I assumed you would have learned in the same way I did."

Elise looked about. Her green eyes scanned the road ahead and behind, holding briefly on the rooftops of the town beginning to peak over the next hill. She gritted her teeth and retook her place at Garret's side.

He could feel the tension in her as they resumed their stroll. So full of anger and hate. That was good. Such base passions had the benefit of keeping one focused, even though they also made one an insufferably poor traveling companion.

"I don't like being toyed with," she whispered dangerously. "Too many of your type think they can toy with me."

Garret hummed to himself, imagining her as a plaything. Not an unpleasant thought in the least. He only needed to get her out of those drab, woolen skirts. A task on par with the sacking of Shan Alee, no doubt.

As if sensing the path his thoughts had taken, Elise quickened their pace down the lane. She kept as much air between their bodies as walking in this fashion would allow.

"Are you gonna answer the blazin' question or not?"

"I might as well," Garret said. "It's a simple matter of bureaucracy. Gaulatia is stricter in its managing of arcanists than even Althandor. Before we boarded the train, I spent the afternoon in the hall of records, drudging up the census for this region from the last five years. Our friend fled the city around that time, so he should pop up in the records. A man might change his name, even his face, but he can't change what he is."

Elise blinked three times. "That's... actually quite smart. I never thought of doing that."

"You work in the shadows, dove. I prefer the sunshine."

"And what did you learn?"

"That in the good town of Rosewater, there are seven arcanists. None are witches, wizards, or sorcerers, therefore no one in Rosewater is capable of scrying. Two are alchemists, and five are scriveners."

"Alchemists can't cast interdictions," Elise mused.

"Quite right, so the elderly gentlemen that caused such a scene at Lady Tarlen's gala could only possibly be..."

"A scrivener," she finished.

"And how does one hunt a scrivener, dove?"

Elise turned towards him and smiled. Her eyes held a hunger he had yet to see in her, and her soft, full lips parted into a sultry smile. She slipped her free hand through the fastenings of her cotton blouse.

Garret might have felt his pulse quicken had he not known that was where she kept one of the many tools of her trade.

When her hand came back out, it held something nearly invisible in the sunlight. Only the briefest glimmer of reflected light betrayed the fact she held anything at all. A tiny, steel spike, as thin as a thread and hard as a diamond.

Elise was, after all, a murderer.

But then again, Garret was no saint either.