Present: 17 Years Old

There were no names in the article. Chloe wished the Amicus had thought to get a copy of the ledger before handing it off. Not that she expected names—it was a very dumb criminal who wrote down names. However, if the underworld hadn’t changed a whole lot in the last four years, she might’ve recognized code names. 

She shook her head and tapped the article.

The worst crime named was tax evasion. Chloe smiled wryly. Lord Calvin’s biggest income source was the Pitts, so the investigation was likely going to lead straight to the arena’s financial records. Her friend wasn’t going to cry over that.

She’ll have to watch this paper for a while. The likelihood that this will be the only article on the matter was small. If she was lucky, they’ll print more of what was actually in the ledger. But she had a feeling the other business and slave owners of the local Pitts were going to do their best to hush it up, otherwise they might have to delay the coming season and lose a lot of money.

Tapping her pencil against her chin, she sat back and looked out the window.

She loved this room.

It didn’t matter that the only place to sit was a single window seat, that it was small enough to be a large pantry, and was completely devoid of decoration when she found it; she still loved it.

Uncomfortable with open spaces, she usually came into the manor’s library, picked up what she wanted from the shelves, and crept into a side room. She didn’t know what the room was supposed to be used for. All she knew was that no one bothered her here, and she could freely lock the door.

She would have suspected the room wasn’t used at all… except it never seemed to get dusty or dirty.

Over the last year and a half, no one said anything as she began adding her knitted blankets and a half dozen pillows to the otherwise bare seat.

Or that she’d stolen a rug that should’ve been thrown out last year when several parlour rugs were replaced. It was a little big for the room, but the door slid over it fine after scrunching it against the other walls.

Other than being right next to the Amicus, when her friend was completely sane, there was nowhere she felt safer.

Now, it was also cozy.

She snuggled down into her pillows and continued tapping her chin, watching birds in the nearest tree.

If she couldn’t get a lead from the article, what could she do?

She couldn't hear anything, but she suddenly saw movement below the tree. Looking down, she silently watched as Ma’Shite and three of his most trusted advisors headed for the main entrance beyond the front garden. It wasn’t a long walk, and likely the carriage would be waiting for them, but the trees obscured her view and soon they were out of sight.

They’re probably going to a consultation with a lawyer. Or maybe even the hearing itself.

She looked up. Tap. Tap. Ta—

Her pencil stopped mid-tap as she stared at the ceiling. With a quick glance at the window, she swung her legs out from under the blanket and left her cubby.

The Amicus was gone.

Chloe wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except that when she opened their shared wardrobe, she noticed that the yellow dress was gone. She flinched and stared at the empty space, biting her lip.

If she’d known what the Amicus would do almost a week later, Chloe would never have encouraged her to go on that date!

The danger level had gone significantly up.

Rubbing her forehead and feeling a phantom headache wanting to form, she took her pouch down from the inside wall of the wardrobe and closed the door. She didn’t bother taking the whole pouch, just a couple of tools, then headed to Ma’Shite’s office.

Replacing her tools had been a nightmare. But Ma’Shite paid her well for the jobs that she did, and she knew the black market contacts. As soon as she worked up the courage to do so, she had only needed to put in the order.

Ma’Shite trusted too much.

Or so she thought at first.

Not believing his personal staff would betray him, the hall door wasn’t locked. Anyone could walk in and rifle through the office.

However, his important documents weren’t easy to find.

Oh, she found the household ledger and some of the business ledgers just fine. Those were sitting in obvious places. Books on a shelf, a drawer of files, and even open on the desk.

Glancing through, she shook her head. The man was an enigma she still didn’t quite understand. He should’ve been filthy rich, richer than anyone her uncle had ever worked for… except a large chunk of the incoming wealth went straight back out.

Many of his investments ran and funded themselves, like the clinics or the inventions made by his sponsored students.

However, some of them were just a coin suck, like the soup kitchen. He scouted people to work for him, but most people just came to eat. She didn’t have to examine the records side by side to know that there weren’t enough scouted people to make up for the loss.

But she wasn’t here to look at his business records or to judge his dealings.

With a grimace, she closed the last ledger, put it back on the shelf it came from, and stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips.

There hadn’t been a single legal document anywhere. Not the slave bonds she knew he had, not the House registrations, not the deeds to his lands and buildings, nothing. Either he kept such things at a different location—and likely he had copies elsewhere even if not the originals—or he had a hiding place for them.

She tapped her foot silently on the rug and turned a small circle, carefully studying the walls.

It took her a couple of minutes before reaching a conclusion, during which she visualized and estimated distances both in this room, the neighboring rooms, and the hallway.

With a smile, she finally started moving.

One wall did not meet the wall of the neighboring room, leaving a space that was at least five feet deep.

Running her fingers along the bookshelves, she didn’t detect any mana that shouldn’t be there. In fact, the only source she found was one of the mounted lamps, set about two heads taller than her, where it could comfortably cast a light on the book spines.

Good. That meant Ma’Shite was smart enough to know that someone might try sneaking in here and finding his secrets that way.

It didn’t help her now, but it made her feel better about his security.

She switched to another tactic.

It was tedious and unlikely, but she pulled each book on every shelf one by one. The top shelf books were the hardest to reach, but it all ended up being in vain. None of them was any sort of secret lever, though she did find a few that she was dying to read.

She pulled down three books for later. It would also serve as an excuse if anyone came in while she was poking around.

Out of confusion, rather than believing it was the answer, she wiggled and hung on all three of the lamps attached to the case. Still, no opening appeared.

Taking a deep breath, she took a step back and crossed her arms, considering her current nemesis with respect.

She needed to think about this differently.

First, she rechecked her mental visuals to confirm that she had, indeed, found the secret space. Just to be extra sure, she even went to the next room and scanned the wall, making a note of where it should end in the hallway.

No, she wasn’t wrong.

There was a space between those walls. She was sure of it.

But how to get into it?

She didn't leave the next room right away, giving it some serious consideration before shaking her head.

If Ma’Shite had to come into this room to get into his secret every time, someone would’ve noticed and commented. Unless he pulled out his documents only at night, but that wouldn’t be practical.

She returned to his office, careful to avoid being seen going back and forth, and once again considered the bookcase.

Tears! This was difficult. And fun.

Chloe didn’t know she was grinning to herself even as she tapped her toe. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Ma’Shite.

He didn’t do anything in the normal way, so he likely wouldn’t have had a key. There was no keyhole anyway, she checked when she pulled on the books. The elf didn’t use mana, either.

What else could he have used?

She blinked and pulled on her ear. Her’s was rounded, just like a human’s should be.

But Ma’Shite’s was not. Ma’Shite was an elf. How did elves do things? They used a whole different magic system, for starters. She wasn’t even sure she’d be able to detect their mana.

Not that it mattered. The elves’ magic was based on the elements. They didn’t weave spells like a mage. Rather, they ordered their elements around with their emotion-made crystals.

What if there was an element trigger of some sort?

She closed her eyes, picturing Ma’Shite’s face.

He wore his tears, his element crystals, as jewelry. Earrings and a necklace. The earrings were tiny crystals in several colors, most of them blue with a few purple, dangling against his neck. The necklace was bigger, set in silver. That one was red.

Blue, purple, red… Sadness, water. Fear, darkness. Love and affection, fire.

She opened her eyes. There were no scorchmarks anywhere, so fire was probably not it. Besides that, water and fire would both damage his books if they got out of control.

That left darkness.

She pulled the curtains closed and turned off all the lights.

Before she could try fiddling with the shelf again, there was an audible ‘click.’

Excited, she went back. It took her some time to find the latch, feeling along the bookshelves and the edges until her fingers felt the bulge.

The only reason she found it at all was that she’d felt the spot before and knew it hadn’t been there. Clever, Ma’Shite. A real thief would’ve most likely closed the curtains and blocked the cracks in the door so they could work by candlelight. They never would have found this latch.

Once she pulled the latch and swung open the secret door, she reopened the curtain.

It was a cabinet of drawers behind the wall. Most of the files were as neatly organized as the rest of the room, though she did find a stack of files in one drawer that wasn’t sorted yet. She closed that one and kept going.

Here were the deeds, financial bonds, contracts, all of it.

Elated, she almost closed the current drawer when she paused. Slowly, she pulled it out again and reached for one of the files.

Chloe, the tag said.