It hadn’t rained the day of Caspian’s memorial, but it had deigned to be overcast. None of the team had gone. It felt wrong, to sit by his grieving parents, then turn in the papers for their arrest the next day.

Campell and the others had taken a car ride through the country to check on the seven suspicious properties and had found three unregistered farms and an illegal glass smelter. The Handfellow’s farm was the largest, and thankfully the only one with wheat. (The other two had grown corn and, they assumed from the shot taken at the car when it tried to turn towards the property, some sort of drug).

The day after the public sheets reported the arrest, Alex messaged Claire the location for the meeting, though he would not be able to attend. The speaker couldn’t leave the safety of his Glass Town guard.

Claire and Dryden had shown up early. It was a nice meeting spot. Alex had suggested a place outside the city, a small inn out in the farmland. The place was designed for merchants waiting for their goods to be checked before entering the city, but it was fairly empty this time a year.

They had a table out on a balcony. Dryden was still scribbling away on the glass he’d brought, but Claire was allowing herself to simply enjoy the sunshine.

“You sure they’ll come?” Dryden asked. He’d been acting suspicious ever since she came back from Glass Town.

“No, I’m not, but I hope they will.”

They lapsed back into silence. Five minutes before the agreed meeting time, Claire looked up. Sensing out other casters wasn’t automatic, but it was enough of a habit for her to be difficult to surprise.

“They’re close. I can feel a fire caster.”

Dryden sat up straight and brushed back his hair.

“Anyone with them?”

“If there is, they aren’t a caster.”

Dryden stared at the door, work ignored, while Claire continued to sip her tea.

Five minutes later, their fire caster walked in the door.

The woman looked Luvikian, with the same delicate, pale features and pink eyes as Miller, but she wore them completely differently. You didn’t need a tracer to tell she was a self-trained fire caster. The ends of her hair were fried, and her arms were covered in little burn scars. She was calloused and muscled, clearly used to hard labor.

She looked at them with determination, as if ready for them to pounce at any minute. She’d made no effort to scrub up, and Claire recognized that as the challenge it was. She could have taken a dip in the river, but she wanted to test them. Perhaps not even test, simply make them uncomfortable.

She caught sight of them and walked straight to their table.

“You the detective?”

“Yes. Thank you so much for coming today. It can’t have been an easy decision,” Dryden said. He wore a soft smile, but somehow managed not to look smug or pitying like Claire did when she tried to put people at ease.

“I’m not here for your sake,” the caster said, still standing.

“I know, but I hope we could do the questions now, in case there’s any details you’d rather Flora not hear.”

“We do this, the case is closed, right?” the woman asked.

“I promise,” Dryden said. He could do this thing with his voice, make it soft and warm in a way that clearly made people want to believe him. That was a dangerous skill. “Is it alright if I record this?”

“Better than waiting for you to write.”

“Then we’ll start the interview.”

Dryden switched on the audio glass.

“This is Detective Theodore Dryden and Tracer Clarisse James interviewing-”

“Tia,” the woman said. She didn’t give a last name, and Dryden didn’t ask.

“Tia about the circumstances of Caspian Handfellow’s death. Tia, tell me about how you knew him.”

Claire watched Dryden carefully. If she had a regret about her life up until now, it was how little she’d known about the things that could influence a case. Before she’d come to Dalgerra, nobody talked about things like leading the witness into a correct answer. 

Tia took a deep breath.

“He started coming to Glass Town last spring. At first, we assumed he was looking for something they didn’t offer in the Camellia District. We get plenty of sleazebags like that, but then I heard he was asking around for work. Didn’t take it seriously until we heard he made maps and… we’d got stranded and lost a friend a few weeks before, so a map sounded pretty damn good.”

Tia took a moment to look around, as if she was waiting for somebody to stop her, snorted, and kept talking.

“We expected him to be a pain but… Cas was great. He kept up with us without complaining and carried his share of the haul back. He obviously needed the money if he was doing glass runs, but didn’t ask for more than his share of the profits. He was pretty quiet.”

She seemed to relax a bit as she talked, eyes turning fond.

“Then, first time we went drinking, some creep tried to feel up Al- one of us, and Caspian slugged the guy.” Tia laughed. “He could barely throw a punch, but he was good enough to lay the guy flat. I dragged him back, but he spent the next hour drunkenly bitching about creeps in the Church District, and it turns out he was funny as hell. We started showing him around town, taking him to services. He told us about why he was doing all this, his shit family and stuff. I guess you know all about that, with the arrest and all. He didn’t expect pity or anything, but, you know. He was our friend.”

“Can you tell me more about the day he died?”

Tia’s chapped lips curled up in a bitter smile, then something in her eyes closed down, and she looked away.

“We got caught by surprise in the field. A caliga slashed him, he died. Not the first time I’ve seen it, won’t be the last.”

“Could you tell me how he got burn marks? Or why the body was found in the arbor?”

Tia cleared her throat and swallowed.

“Like I said, we knew the deal with his family. If people found out he died in a caliga attack, there’d be questions, so we had to hide the marks. Since the arbor doesn’t collect taxes, we figured there’d be no money to investigate. We knew his family couldn’t afford much, but guess it didn’t work. He died for nothing. So fuck you for that, I guess, even if it was kinda nice to see those assholes get their due. That enough?”

Her glare said it damn well better be.

“It should be. Thank you, Miss Tia. Shall I send Caster James to get Miss Flora? She told me she’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“Claire can stay. You go.”

Dryden raised his eyebrows, but stood up and went to the side room.

Claire laughed, but she didn’t try to imitate Dryden’s easy smile.

“Thank you for coming. Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Tia said with a glare. “And don’t get me wrong, I don’t trust you just because Alex and- and, uh, the Gentle Neighbor think you’re alright. I just know if you fucked me over, it would cause you way more trouble than it’s worth. They promised if you lied to me, they’d ruin you.”

“As would be right,” Claire said, then turned at the sound of the door.

Flora was still dressed for mourning, but she smiled at Tia. It was not Dryden’s diplomatic smile, it was a wavering, fragile thing, transparent and unstable as smoke.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Caspian’s sister, Flora Handfellow.”

Tia froze, muscles tensing, and Claire was half ready for a fight. Instead, Tia stood and fell into a low, awkward bow.

“I came here today because I wanted to tell you something,” Tia said, as if each word hurt to get out. “Miss Flora, I am so sorry I couldn't protect your brother.”

Flora looked stunned, stepping forward with her hands out, as if she wanted to help the woman up.

“Please, there’s no need to bow. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I’m the main caster for our group,” Tia continued, shoulders shaking. She seemed to have forgotten Claire and Dryden entirely. “It was my responsibility to deal with caliga.”

Claire couldn’t see Tia’s expression, but she could see the tears dripping down her nose.

“I was supposed to keep an eye on him. We just got… overwhelmed. I tried to cauterize the wound. I thought- thought even if I couldn’t save him, we could hide what had happened and protect his reputation.”

Revulsion swelled in Claire’s throat. Those burns, she’d thought they’d meant to torture Caspian, but it was just the work of a terrified girl barely in her twenties, trying to save a friend. She hoped the girl would find somebody to talk to about the nightmares that came with a thing like that.

Flora hurried forward and grabbed both of Tia’s hands in hers.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t even do that,” Tia said, composure finally breaking entirely. “Everybody knows now. He died for nothing.”

Flora waited for Tia to look up and managed a smile.

“Please don’t apologize. I came here today to say something too,” Flora said. “I wanted to thank you. Thank you for being Caspian’s friend. What happened was- was a tragedy, but I am so glad that he met you all. This last year was the happiest I ever saw him.”

Flora’s voice got steadier as she spoke.

“And we always wanted our parents to get caught. Caspian wanted to secure my future. It’s hard not to blame myself, but,” Flora wiped at her eyes, “he gave me the money to go to school, and I met the most wonderful man. He doesn’t care about my title, but I wouldn’t have met him if I’d dropped out.”

They stood like that for a minute, hands clasped, until Tia pulled away and wiped her eyes.

“We all talked it over, and, if you’re willing, we want you at his funeral,” Tia said. “We know you already had a proper one, but… we could swap stories. You could meet the rest of his friends.”

“I’d like that.”

Dryden watched their conversation intently, looking for whatever it was he was always watching, but Claire’s job was done. She’d debrided the wound, but it was up to those girls to heal. She was happy to let them talk and enjoy her tea. 

Eventually they left; Tia to report back to her friends, Flora to deal with more of the horrible, endless bureaucracy of death.

“You’re worried about them,” Dryden said.

“Not Flora. She’ll grieve, but she has a stable base. It’s Tia that worries me,” Claire admitted. “I imagine she has no choice but to keep up her current work. It’s unsafe, but she’s obviously feeling a lot of pressure to protect her team. Spending half an hour burning a friend’s corpse… she has good friends, but Glass Town doesn’t have the resources to help somebody back from something like that.”

It was the smell that got you, the first time you burned a person. Claire had used it in self defense two days after she turned nineteen. The man hadn’t even died, but she hadn’t been able to eat meat for months after that. It had taken her even longer to practice with fire again. In those months, she managed to drive away every friend she had, including her first serious girlfriend, and only got back on track when she started talking with Louis.

She could remember trying to use her casting to light candles on his kitchen table, hands shaking, frustrated to be barely managing a trick that had been easy at fourteen.

Tia was untrained, but she didn’t have the option of ignoring her powers while her emotions recovered like Claire had. Her friends relied on her abilities to keep them safe in the field. That was a recipe for disaster.

“I’m not sure she'll have to stay in Glass Town,” Dryden said with a smile. “I’ve been talking to Flora about her family’s estate. The illegal farm and most of the money will probably go to the workers, but she says she’s going to give the legitimate farm to Caspian’s friends, if they want it.”

“That’s kind of her,” Claire said. “Lifechanging, I imagine, to give them property and a stable income.”

“But you’re still worried.”

This skill of his was going to make her wish him blind a few times, wasn’t it?

“I am. I imagine Flora would train them, but wouldn’t they face resentment from the higher ups? Having to work for uneducated outsiders?”

Dryden laughed.

“What higher ups? Everyone with a hand in running the place is on trial for corruption. Flora’s been running things on her own for now, but she says she’d prefer to support Ian’s business than inherit her parents’. ”

They would probably refuse at first, Claire imagined, but not for long. The farm itself wouldn’t bring in the money it had as a stamp farm, but it was far more profitable than glass harvesting. Flora wouldn’t have a hard time convincing them, and she would be unshackled from the family business, free to help start something new.

They would all do their best to move on. Who knew how much they would, but it was a good outcome, better than most, really. 

“That’s good then,” she said, starting to gather her things. “I suppose we should get back. There’s always more paperwork to do.”