And now this. Duke Rigby was sending him north to help Count Fernigan defend against the increasingly violent monster waves. Of course, none of it was the Duke's fault, but Baron Baltimore didn't see it that way. In his eyes, Duke Rigby was the one taking him away from his search for Angelina. 

He tossed the letter against the wall, where it bounced on the floor to join a host of other papers, most of similar importance. The letter itself necessitated no response other than immediate obedience, but Baltimore had no such inclination. If Count Fernigan couldn't last until the Baron's daughter was found, then perhaps his brother-in-law was undeserving of his station. 

Samuel didn't draft a response; he was too incensed to trust himself to do so. Besides, Count Fernigan was a vassal to Archduke Kallimer, not Duke Rigby. So if Baltimore were to be a few days late, what was it to Rigby? None could criticize him for sending aid. 

“Everit!” Baltimore called, and his secretary was suddenly present. 

“Yes, my lord?” 

“Any news?” 

“None, my lord, though we're trying the best we can.” 

“I should be out there myself,” Samuel growled, “not sitting here waiting like a patch of poppycock.” 

“I don't think that word means quite what you think it does.” 

“Everit?” 

“Yes, my lord?” 

“If I wanted a language lesson I would have asked for one. Until then, keep your codswallop to yourself.” 

“My lord–” 

“Did you not hear me?!” 

“I did, my lord.” 

“Well?! What is it, then?!” 

“Never mind. You'd have regarded it as balderdash.” 

“Yes. Quite right. What is balderdash?” 

“It means the same as poppycock or codswallop.” 

“Hmmm. Yes. Balderdash. I'll have to remember that one.” 

Baron Baltimore settled back in his seat, deep in thought. If his soldiers couldn't find her, he had no choice but to seek the aid of a mage, and he knew just the one. 

“Everit,” he said. 

“Yes, my lord?” 

“Bring me the Allison boy. I wish to speak with him.” 

“It- It will be done, my lord,” Everit replied with some hesitation. 

Baltimore watched him closely as he left the room. There was something Everit wasn't telling him. Something that would probably enrage him if he knew. In all the years he'd employed the secretary, Everit had never hidden vital information from him. If he knew something about Angelina's disappearance, Baltimore would simply have to trust him. It wasn't an ideal situation; life never was. But Everit had served him valiantly over the years, and that was more than enough to deserve the benefit of the doubt. 

Samuel gazed out the window, watching the wind swaying the trees. Rain was coming from the east, creeping slowly north and west from Rigby's fortress at Jaevelholdt. Lightning flashed in the distance, reminding the Baron of the extreme violence that resided in nature, hidden just below the surface of nearly every habitat. He was suddenly very afraid. 

The world was a dangerous place, and his precious daughter was out there all alone. 

*** 

Less than an hour later, Mancer was standing in front of the Baron's desk, watching Baltimore curiously. He had no idea why he'd been summoned. He also didn't yet know that Angelina still hadn't returned. To him, escaping the spirit plane was the easiest thing in the world, barely even an inconvenience. He'd never seen anyone else attempt it, and so he assumed that it would come as naturally as breathing. 

He had no idea just how wrong he was. 

Everit had his hands on Mancer's shoulder in a gesture of calm reassurance, not realizing that an employer’s presence could never be reassuring. 

Baron Baltimore sat up in his chair, setting aside his quill pen and parchment. New writing implements were being invented almost every other day, but Samuel still preferred the old ones. He removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose, staring wearily at Mancer. 

“Do you have the means wherewith to locate a person?” the Baron asked. 

Mancer frowned. “Perhaps. May I ask whom it is that I should locate?” 

“I'm sure you know. My daughter– that is, Angelina, went missing two nights ago. I suspect she may have run away, but… I can't know for certain. Do you have any way of finding out where she is?” 

Mancer suddenly felt guilty. Embarrassment began to flood his cheeks, and his mouth hung open in quiet surprise. 

“Um…” he stammered, “I can… I can certainly try, but… I can't… I can't guarantee anything.” His nervous chuckle did nothing to validate his claim, and Baron Baltimore narrowed his eyes menacingly. 

“Do you know something?” he demanded, “about my daughter's whereabouts, perhaps?” 

Everit tightened his grip on Mancer's shoulders. On the night of her disappearance, he had been watching Othello closely, and thus had been present at the exact moment of Angelina's evanescence. If it came out that Mancer had caused this entire situation, it was quite possible that Everit would be on the hook as well. 

“I… I don't know anything!” Mancer protested awkwardly, “but if you give me a moment, I might be able to find something out!” 

“Do it, then,” Baltimore said, “but be quick about it. And if I find out that you had something to do with her disappearance, fourth circle or not, I'll have you flogged.” 

Mancer closed his eyes. With his wellspring still blocked, he had no way of casting an actual location spell, but the Baron didn't know that, and besides: Mancer already knew where Angelina was. 

He concentrated his mind and called out silently to his spirits. If he was going to fool the Baron, he would have to make this look good. 

A whistling wind stirred around him, fluttering the papers on Baltimore's desk. Colors of light pulsed around him, expelling a halo of energy from around his head. Mancer opened his eyes, and a bright white light shone from his face, illuminating the shadowy study. His eyes reflected the infinitude of time, the boundlessness with which it passed. His feet left the ground briefly, and then all at once the phenomena stopped. 

“Well?” the Baron asked impatiently. 

“I've got it,” Mancer declared, “she's on the spirit plane.” 

Samuel turned white. “The what?!” he demanded. 

“The spirit plane,” Mancer explained, “the dimension in which the spirits reside.” 

“How in the hell did she get there?!” he asked incredulously. 

Mancer looked away. “I have no idea,” he said quickly. 

“Don't give me that,” the Baron complained, “you were her teacher! If she's managed to trip into another plane of existence, it's clearly your fault!” 

“It was just an object lesson,” Mancer mumbled. 

“What?!” The Baron leaned closer. Everit's hands gripped his shoulders once more, calmly reminding him not to let it slip. 

“Nothing! I didn't say anything important. Anyway, Angelina should be here any minute! Escaping that place is the easiest thing in the world!” 

Baltimore glared at him. “If it's the easiest thing in the world, then why don't you go and get her?!” He slammed his fist on the desk, bouncing his inkwell into the air and spilling it on the smoothly polished oak. 

“It's not that simple!” Mancer protested, “it would take half a day just to draw the correct magic circle, and even then, my fourth circle’s still broken, so even a small trip to the spirit plane could be fatal! In my condition, coming back with a passenger would be plain suicidal!” 

Baltimore sighed, deep in thought. As a swordsman, he couldn't pretend to know the finer points of magic, so he had no choice but to take Mancer at his word. Anyway, if the boy really was telling the truth, it wouldn't be fair to ask him to die so his daughter could return; he had parents, too, after all. 

The death of a child was not something that Samuel Baltimore wished upon anyone. 

It was this predicament that weighed on his mind when a brilliant flash burst through the forest in the distance, followed by a small earthquake that shook the foundation of the manor, sending the spilled ink bottle rolling across the floor. 

Samuel didn't immediately equate this phenomenon to his daughter's return (since it was already storming, he assumed it to be a particularly violent bolt of lightning) but Mancer knew better. As soon as he felt it, a triumphant smile arrested his features. 

“She's back,” he declared, and Baltimore immediately looked at him, his gaze sharpening. 

“What did you say?” he demanded. 

Mancer pointed out the window where Angelina could be seen emerging from the forest. “I said she's back,” he explained, “though she might catch a cold if she stays out in that rain.” 

Baron Baltimore immediately opened the window and climbed through it, dropping to the ground from the second floor. He dashed to his daughter and scooped her into his arms, hugging her tight to keep her warm. Then he rushed back to the house where the maids were waiting with blankets and towels. 

Baltimore set Angelina down gently, watching her anxiously for any signs of trauma. 

“Do you know how worried I was?” he asked gently. 

“But daddy, I've only been gone for two hours!” 

Mancer, who had come down the stairs to the main entrance, coughed gently and said, “time flows a little differently in the spirit plane. Two hours there could be two days or even an eternity here.” 

The Baron was enraged. “And you just let my daughter stay there?!” he growled, “I don't know how she got there, but the fact that you knew that without even a location spell–” Baltimore cut off his words and scowled as if he'd said too much. 

Mancer looked on in shock. He knew that Baltimore was not a mage; his condition precluded that notion. So there was only one possible way that the Baron could have known that he didn't cast a spell, and that was aura sight. 

Samuel Baltimore had aura sight. 

The Baron watched his daughter closely, staring at her with his all-seeing eyes. 

“There's something different about you,” he muttered. 

Mancer immediately walked over to Angelina and placed his hand on her back. Sensing mana with a blocked wellspring was certainly difficult, but at Mancer's level, it was doable. 

He expanded his mind into her body, tendrils of thought seeking what he suspected he would find. Angelina cringed as he searched, but Mancer ignored her. 

At last, he found it. Relaxing his conscience, he stepped away from the Baron's daughter, a stunned look on his face. 

“What is it?” Baltimore asked curiously, and Mancer blinked up at him. 

“A mana circle,” he said incredulously, “she has a mana circle.”