Duncan listened without interruption. His expression shifted as we spoke, moving from surprise at the method to anger at the audacity to cold fury when we described the note.

  “In my city,” he said when we finished. “In an inn I personally secured. They took a foreign prince from under my protection.” His hands had begun to move as he spoke with restless energy. Something crackled in the air like a charge building.

  “They had to have planned this for weeks,” Felix said. “Maybe longer. The inscription work alone required significant preparation.”

  “Which means they knew you would come before you arrived.” Duncan’s jaw tightened. “Someone in my city has been feeding them information. Someone with access to my plans.”

  “The trade consortium,” I said. “Gray’s operation has the resources, reach, and glyphwrights skilled enough to create that trap.”

  “Unfortunately, suspicion isn’t evidence.”

  “No. But it’s a place to start.”

  Roderick stepped forward. The guard’s scarred face held barely controlled rage.

  “Your Highness. Permission to handle this our way.”

  Duncan looked at him. “Your way?”

  “We find where they took him. We get him back. We deal with whoever did this.” Roderick’s voice held the flat certainty of a man stating facts. “Adrian is our charge and our responsibility. Let us do our job.”

  “There are protocols,” Duncan said slowly. “Adrian is a foreign prince. His father is a powerful man. If I send soldiers…if this becomes an official action, the diplomatic implications...”

  “Perhaps not making it an international incident might be better for all parties.” Felix’s voice was calm despite everything. His analytical mind was working the problem. “If Adrian’s father learns his son was kidnapped before we recover him, the response will be significant. But if we resolve this quietly and quickly without official involvement...”

  “You’re suggesting I pretend this didn’t happen.”

  “I’m suggesting you give us the latitude to fix it before it becomes something that can’t be ignored.” Felix met Duncan’s eyes. “We’re not Keldrath soldiers. We’re not acting under your orders. We’re friends looking for a friend. If something goes wrong, you have deniability.”

  Duncan was quiet for a long moment. The charge in the air faded as his hands stilled.

  “You are foreign dignitaries,” he said finally. “Here at my invitation and operating under my protection.” He nodded. “If you choose to conduct your own investigation into the whereabouts of your companion, that would be your affair. Not an official action of Keldrath.”

  “Understood.”

  “And if that investigation led you to certain locations and certain people, that would also be your affair.” Duncan moved to the map table. “I would, of course, have no knowledge of what you might find there. Or what you might do about it.”

  He pulled a map from beneath the others and spread it across the table. It showed trade routes, warehouse locations, and the network of roads and facilities that connected Keldrath’s commerce.

  “Gray’s consortium operates primarily from here.” Duncan pointed to a location outside Valdmere. “It holds the main warehouses, administrative offices, and living quarters for key personnel. It’s well-defended with private guards and ward systems.”

  “Ward systems we can handle,” I said.

  “There are also several smaller facilities throughout the region.” Duncan indicated other points on the map. “Safe houses, transfer points, and places where someone might be held if they didn’t want to be found.”

  Brennan leaned over the map. His eyes moved across the marked locations with recognition.

  “I know some of these,” he said. “The old Harrow farmstead. The mill house near Thornbrook. Places that used to be something and became something else.”

  “Places where the consortium does business that doesn’t appear in their official records.” Duncan stepped back from the table. “You understand I can’t officially give you this information.”

  “What information?” Roderick asked. His tone matched Duncan’s. Two men who understood exactly what this meant and chose to pretend otherwise.

  “Exactly.” Duncan looked at each of us in turn. “Find him. Bring him back. Try not to start a war while you’re doing it.” He glanced at Roderick’s empty hip. “The armory is down the hall. Take what you need and tell them I sent you for a training exercise.”

  “And if we find evidence?” Felix asked. “Proof of who’s behind this?”

  “Then I’ll have grounds for official action. But I need evidence, not suspicion. I need something I can take to my father. Something that justifies what would come next.”

  The weight of that statement hung in the air. Whatever response Duncan was prepared to authorize, it would be significant. He just needed us to give him the excuse.

  “We’ll find it,” I said. “And we’ll find Adrian.”

  Duncan nodded once. “Then you’d better get started. Every hour matters.”

  We gathered the maps we needed and left the study. The castle corridors were still dark, but we had direction and purpose.

  “Where do we start?” Henrick asked.

  Brennan studied the maps as we walked. “The Harrow farmstead. It’s half a day’s ride. If they’re moving him between locations, that’s likely the first stop.”

  “Then that’s where we go.” Roderick’s hand went to his empty hip. “But first, I need something to hit people with.”

  The armory was a long room lined with racks of weapons and armor. Tables stood between the racks where smiths could work on repairs. A sleepy quartermaster looked up as we entered, took one look at Brennan, and waved us through without question.

  Roderick moved straight to the war hammers. He hefted one, tested the weight, and set it back with a grimace. Then tried another and shook his head.

  “Problem?” I asked.

  “Balance is off.” He selected a third hammer and gave it an experimental swing. “This one’s close. Handle’s not worn in right, but it’ll do.”

  Henrick had similar luck with the axes. He finally settled on one and frowned at it. “It pulls left. Castle smiths don’t know how to weight a proper fighting weapon.”

  “You can complain after we get Adrian back,” Brennan said. He spread the maps across one of the work tables. “Now. There’s two access roads and they’re easy to defend.”

  “That’ll probably make it hard to approach without being spotted,” I added.

  “So we don’t use stealth.” Roderick buckled the borrowed hammer to his belt. “We approach smart.”

  Adrian was out there somewhere. And whoever had taken him was about to learn that leaving us alive had been a very serious mistake.

  Chapter 28

  Silver And Steel

  We spread the maps across one of the armory’s work tables. Brennan anchored the corners with whatever came to hand while Roderick and Henrick tested weapons from the racks. The sleepy quartermaster had retreated to his corner and left us to our work.

  “It’s remote,” Brennan said. He traced the roads leading to the Harrow farmstead. “And accessible by only two roads. Real easy to defend.”

  “Hard to approach unseen,” I added.

  “If they’re even there,” Roderick said. He set down another hammer that didn’t meet his standards. “We’re guessing.”

  “We’re working with what we have. The alternative is waiting for more information while Adrian gets further away.”

  “I’m not suggesting we wait.” Roderick finally found a hammer he could tolerate and gave it an experimental swing. His scarred face held the cold focus of a man preparing for violence. “I’m suggesting we go in smart. They’ll have wards, guards, and they’ll be expecting pursuit.”

  “Which is why we prepare.” I looked at Felix. “Do we have enough materials?”

  “Barely.” He pulled out our supply case and opened it. Inside sat three small vials of silver ink, larger containers of standard compound, and the usual tools and brushes. “The silver is almost gone. We used most of it on the network anchors and the work in Dunmarch and Veldros.”

  “How much is almost gone?”

  “Enough for maybe a dozen small inscriptions.” Felix met my eyes. “We should use it wisely.”

  I thought about the trap that had caught us, the professional ward work and the skilled glyphwright who had prepared our rooms while we traveled from Veldros. Whoever we faced next would have similar resources and similar expertise.

  We needed every advantage we could create.

  “Roderick. Henrick.” I gestured for them to come closer. “Take off your jerkins.”

  “Usually someone buys me dinner first,” Roderick said, but he was already unbuckling the leather. Henrick just shrugged and followed suit.

  “I’ll buy you a drink when Adrian’s safe,” I said.

  Roderick grinned. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  We laid their jerkins across the table beside the maps. The material was well-worn and flexible. It wasn’t as good as the steel of Kyle’s armor, but it was serviceable. It would hold inscriptions if we applied them correctly.

  “We’ll use the same patterns we used on Kyle’s equipment,” I explained as I prepared the silver ink. “Corrosion resistance, magic dispersal, heat regulation, and binding dissolution.” I traced the outline of where each ward would go. “If someone hits you with a paralysis ward like the one that caught us, these should help you shake it off faster.”

  “Should?” Henrick asked.

  “Nothing is certain. But it’s better than going in with just leather and steel.”

  I started with the first inscription. The silver ink flowed smoothly onto the leather. The patterns came from memory, and each symbol connected to the next in sequences I could draw in my sleep.

  Felix worked on the second jerkin. His technique had grown more confident since we left Millbrook. The tremor that used to affect his hands under pressure had steadied. He moved with the quiet competence of someone who knew exactly what he needed to do.

  “That’s expensive ink,” Roderick said. He watched Felix complete a particularly complex symbol. “The kind that costs more than we make in a week.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re using it on our clothes.”

  Felix nodded. “Yes.”

  Roderick was quiet for a moment. His eyes moved between us and the work we did on his equipment.

  “Why?” he asked finally.

  I looked up from my inscription. “Because you’re our friends. Because Adrian is out there somewhere and you’re the ones who are going to help us get him back.” I returned to the pattern. “Because when we walk into whatever’s waiting at that farmstead, I want us all walking out again.”

  “Besides, the ink won’t matter if we’re dead,” Felix added. His tone stayed casual, but his words carried weight. “We’re not much use in a fight, but we’ll do what we can to support you. The least we can do is give you tools that might keep you alive.”

  Henrick shifted where he stood. The skepticism had faded from his expression.

  “The last time someone equipped us like this, it was the crown armory before the Thornwood campaign.” He touched the leather where Felix had inscribed the first ward. “That equipment saved my life twice.”

  “Then let’s hope this works half as well.”

  Felix glanced around the armory and spotted a bin of wood scraps near the repair benches. He crossed to it and dug through the contents until he found two lengths of ash.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  “Detection sticks.” He brought the wood back to our table. “Ward inscriptions create subtle energy signatures. If we tune these to resonate with those signatures, they’ll vibrate when they encounter other inscriptions.”

  “That’s good.” I could already see how it would work. “The theory is simple, but the alignment will be delicate. One mistake and they’d give false readings.”

  “Worth the risk.” Felix was already sketching the pattern on a scrap of paper.

  We worked together on the inscriptions and used the last of our silver ink. The symbols gleamed against the pale wood as they took shape.

  “How does it work?” Roderick asked. He had put on his inscribed jerkin and now stood with his arms crossed. He watched the process with obvious interest.

  “Point it ahead of you.” Felix held up one of the completed sticks. “When you approach something that’s been inscribed, it’ll vibrate in your hand. The stronger the vibration, the more powerful the ward.”

  “Show us.”

  Felix handed one stick to Roderick and kept the other.

  “Try it,” Felix said. “Point it at Henrick.”

  Roderick raised the stick toward Henrick’s chest. The wood began to tremble in his hand.

  “That’s the inscriptions on his jerkin,” Felix explained. “The stick is detecting the silver work we just applied.” Roderick moved the stick to point at Felix and nothing happened. Then he pointed it back to Henrick and the trembling resumed.

  “So when we’re approaching a building...” Henrick began.

  “Point the stick ahead of you. If it starts vibrating, stop. Let us come forward and examine what you’ve found.” I took the second stick from Felix. “We can disable most ward types if we know they’re there. The problem is walking into them without warning.”

  Henrick frowned. “Like we did last night.”

  I nodded. “Like we did last night.”

  Roderick turned the detection stick over in his hands. The wood was smooth and the inscriptions caught the lamplight with a faint shimmer.

  “You just created something new,” he said slowly. “In one night. While we planned a rescue.”

  “Felix created it. I just helped with the theory.”

  “That’s not the point.” Roderick looked at me with an expression I hadn’t seen from him before, something between respect and reassessment. “You don’t stop. Even when everything goes wrong, you find a way to make tools that help and to build things that matter.”

  “We’re glyphwrights. It’s what we do.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “It’s what you do. I’ve met other glyphwrights. They wouldn’t have thought of this and they wouldn’t have used their last supplies on guards instead of saving them for themselves.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that. The silence stretched until Brennan broke it.

  “The lads have always been different,” the older man said from his corner. His voice had lost some of its earlier flatness. “Saw it the first day I met them. They solve problems, not just the ones they’re paid to solve, but all of them.”

  He pushed off from the wall and spread a more detailed map of the region across the table. His knowledge of Keldrath’s roads and properties proved invaluable. He marked approaches to the Harrow farmstead and noted terrain features that might provide cover. He identified secondary routes in case the main road proved too dangerous.

  “The farmstead sits in a shallow valley,” he explained. “Like we said earlier, it’s got good sight lines from the main building. Anyone coming down the road will be visible for half a mile before they arrive.”

  “Can we approach from another direction?” Felix asked.

  “Woods to the north. Rough ground, but passable on foot.” Brennan traced the route with his finger. “Leave the horses a mile out. Come in through the trees. They might have watchers, but they can’t cover every angle.”

  “And if they have wards in the woods?”

  “That’s why you made the sticks.” Brennan almost smiled. “First time I’ve seen glyphwrights think tactically. Usually you lot just walk up to problems and start inscribing.”

  “Usually we’re not rescuing kidnapped princes from fortified positions.”

  “Aye. Times change.”

  I studied the map while the others discussed tactical approaches. I traced the farmstead, the roads, and the consortium warehouses that Duncan had marked. A pattern of properties and routes connected Gray’s operation across Keldrath.

  Father’s voice echoed in my memory. Follow the money. The money tells the real story.

  “This isn’t just about Adrian,” I said.

  The conversation stopped and everyone turned to look at me.

  “What do you mean?” Roderick asked.

  “The kidnapping. The ward trap. Even the farmstead where we think they’re holding him.” I pointed to the map. “All of this takes resources. Skilled glyphwrights, properties in strategic locations, and guards willing to attack a foreign prince. Someone is paying for all of it.”

  “Gray’s consortium,” Felix said. “We’ve known that for weeks.”

  “We’ve suspected for weeks. But look at the scale.” I traced the network of marked locations. “This isn’t one merchant protecting his business. This is an operation that spans the entire kingdom. Warehouses, safe houses, transport routes, and personnel. The infrastructure to kidnap a prince and hold him without anyone noticing.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m suggesting that finding Adrian is the first step, not the last. Even after we get him back, whoever built this will still be out there and will still have resources and reasons to want us stopped.”

  The room fell quiet.

  “One problem at a time,” Roderick said finally. “First we find Adrian. Then we worry about the rest.”

  “Agreed.” I straightened from the map. “But when this is over, when Adrian is safe, we’re going to need answers. Real answers. About who built this and why. About how deep it goes.”

  “And if the answers lead somewhere dangerous?”

  I thought about the sabotage in Veldros. The brigands in the street. The ward trap that had caught us sleeping. Whoever we faced had already tried to destroy our work, assault us in public, and kidnap a prince.

  “Then we go somewhere dangerous,” I said. “Because leaving it alone isn’t an option anymore.”