Dalliance and Earnest settled down in a cloud of magic inside the Rat Runner's Café. The boar-headed mascot glared at them with red eyes from the swinging, painted-wood sign. They floated in through the door to the back, where the dark wood tables gave way to dark wood booths with benches. At a table of giggling girls, Dalliance slowed. He was going to get an earful from Earnest after this, but he was curious.

  The wind scarcely moved the candle as Dalliance and Earnest settled around the table.

  "I don’t know what I’m going to do this year," Morality said, "but it’s not going to be anything like Dalliance with bears. You know, I don't think he's managed a single dignified kill."

  "The Goblins," said Effluvia. “He shot it in the face.”

  "You’d left that out," Morality said, accusingly, “but aside from that I don’t think he’s managed a dignified kill.”

  “Dalliance won’t even talk to me about this stuff,” Whimsy complained. “Do you think he’s embarrassed?”

  Morality opened her mouth to comment, as if she’d even been there to have an opinion.

  "Be fair," Charity said. "Your brother contributed directly to the kill of every monster. That’s better than most of us. I didn’t have anything to do with the death of the bear, or the queen, or any of the goblins, not like Dalliance. Or Effie."

  "You killed the bird,” noted Effie.

  Charity looked uncomfortable. Dalliance imagined it was difficult to decide how to say, 'I cheated by calling on a higher power,' without saying that calling on a higher power was cheating. He watched her try to think her way through it and fail. It amused him.

  "So," Circe said, "I was trying to say it doesn’t have to end up like me."

  Whimsy shot her a nervous smile. His sister’s eyes didn’t linger on Circe’s frozen face for long, Dalliance observed. She’s worried she’s going to be wounded, like Circe was.

  "Besides which, you’re spoiling the fun," said Effluvia. "Mostly people come out of the hunt okay. In the cities, children train with the arms masters for hours every day for the month leading up. We were too rural, so all I could do was run and practice the bow. But you saw how Sterling . . . well, you didn't see. We all saw how Sterling did. Except Morality."

  Whimsy gestured impatiently. She was bold, talking to the noblesse that way, but Effluvia didn’t comment.

  Her voice was offhand as she slurped her pale blue coffee, resonating oddly through the mouth of the cup,“Fought like the knight's son he is. Cut off the bird’s leg, snake’s head, first blood on the goblins.”

  "And ten boys his age doesn’t sound like much," Charity said, "unless they all fight like he did.”

  She sounded admiring.

  “That’ll keep you alive, just get some good fighters?"

  “If you have a thinker like your brother amongst them, maybe,” said Morality. “I read father’s notes: Sterling almost got you killed twice. Brains like a bowl of porridge."

  “Enough might makes right eventually,” said Effie. “But we didn’t actually have much on the field.”

  "It’s not normal to have so many people putting ranks in the mental attributes, in a group," Circe added. "Mostly it’s supposed to be physical types ranking up, and quickly. But your brother was driven, and got the kill again and again—not that that’s why the others died, necessarily. Just. He cares about you."

  “Me,” said Charity. “You, Effie, Dalliance, Knot. Prudence.”

  “All with good reason.”

  "On the other hand, Earnest doesn’t take anything seriously.” said Whimsy. “Okay, I see where you went wrong. I wish I could prepare better. I don’t want to be a wizard, though," she said miserably. “And that ‘s the only secret I know.”

  "You don’t have to be," said Morality, who had clearly already talked her way around this topic. "But a bow will never really be stronger than a bow, even if you can aim. Archery is a dead end without powerful supplemental skills. Which you need."

  "And a sword," Whimsy shot back, "will never really be stronger than a sword."

  Morality was wearing her rapier, Dalliance noted. It looked oddly long on her short frame.

  Morality raised a hand in appreciation of the jibe. "I am not really banking my success on the sword," she said. "I’d been planning to be a [Spell Blade], but your brother had other ideas."

  "You mean you got him to bequeath you one of his skills?" Effluvia said in disgust.

  "You would’ve too if you thought about it."

  "I couldn’t possibly have. I have a System before he did."

  No, Dalliance thought. You didn't.

  "We made a deal," insisted Morality, "and I’m going to uphold it."

  "And you blinked those pretty eyes at him and made him do whatever you wanted," accused Effluvia.

  Charity glared at nothing for a moment, a reaction Dalliance doubted anyone had seen. "So, what you’re saying," Whimsy said thoughtfully, "is that he can leave me a skill?"

  "If your brother can see the future," said Morality doggedly, "you could too."

  "But what if he doesn’t want to do that for me?"

  "Then we get Charity to ask him," Circe said with a giggle. It was eerie, watching that sound come out of a stoic face.

  "And I think," Circe added, "I could probably get Immaculate to contribute as well, if Effie wants to play along.”

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  “What do you think I am?” complained Effie.

  “Think of it: two skills. [Evasion], and [Prediction]. Whimsy would be unstoppable.”

  The spell failed. As a red-faced Earnest and a confused Dalliance faded back into being, Dalliance realized two things. The first was that those he carried could break the spell. The second: Earnest liked Effie.

  "What?" said Charity dangerously.

  Earnest swung around to stare at Dalliance. "I was going to ask that! What were you thinking?"

  “What did you say about Whimsy?" asked Dalliance, ignoring him.

  “Oh, he just got here," concluded his little sister. The other girls at the table eyed her for a moment, but didn’t gainsay her.

  "Of course," Earnest said. For how irritated he had to have been to break out of the spell, the lie came with surprising ease.

  Dalliance gave the ladies a weak smile.

  "So—she can have it?" asked Charity.

  Dalliance glanced at her, a guilty start. She was grinning wolfishly. He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I suppose."

  "Great," said Morality. "Now, what were you saying about Immaculate?" she asked Circe.

  "We'll both talk to him," Effluvia told her.

  Dalliance put his burning face in his hands, not looking at Earnest.

  "We should get them up to speed," suggested Circe after a moment had passed.

  "Yes! Um, so Morality was telling us about her hunting group," Whimsy said. "Did you know she has Zenith again? She has Zenith, so she’ll have some experience with her."

  Dalliance did not roll his eyes.

  "So, then Morality was talking about the 'optics of group success'," Whimsy continued. "She wants to see if she can figure out a way to get out without anybody dying and without P—Auditor Pleasant," she corrected, with a glance at Dalliance, "absolutely coming down on her team like a ton of bricks."

  "Which is what?"

  "Get everyone to be a part of the kills. It’s okay if we win," Morality said, "but if we win and only one person gets any experience and the other people don’t level up . . . and so, of course, if we don’t get any new teachers after the first few combats, we're really going to struggle. Because they’re expecting us to have, you know, warriors like Sterling or . . . " She trailed off, looking at Dalliance.

  Dalliance nodded. Or father.

  " . . . or any magic users this time," Morality finished. "I was thinking," she said, "I might need to become one myself if I can’t find any soon-to-be twelve-year-olds to talk into it."

  "You are not," said Effluvia, "sharing the secret of how to become a wizard."

  "It’s not that difficult," said Morality. "You don’t have to have ten ranks to become a spellcaster, which is what I said. All you have to do is inherit a skill that’s magical, and your path is set. When I become twelve, I will get a skill that’s magical," she said patiently.

  [Redirection]. Huh.

  Dalliance stared at her. He had a sudden image of a little army of twelve-year-olds, each redirecting oncoming spells, arrows, and blows, tearing through a year of hunts like a knife through butter.

  "That wasn’t really the idea," Dalliance said, but relented in the face of the look that she gave him.

  "You help me once and you get to tell me how I build my future?" Morality asked. "You sound like your father."

  It stung because it was true, and because Whimsy was staring at him with accusation right in her eyes. "I didn’t mean it that way," he said quietly.

  "Fine," Morality said.

  "So, you’re going to build yourself an army?"

  "Yes," she said simply.

  "And that’s how you’re going to get everyone through the hunt alive. Build your own army and make sure everyone has a share in the killing blow."

  "Yes."

  Dalliance stared at her. It might work, he had to admit.

  "You’re scary," said Earnest. "You’re a scary woman."

  "Will be," Effluvia agreed.

  "You’ll cripple their futures," protested Effluvia.

  They’d never be more than [Hedge Wizards].

  "Not if they want to be soldiers. Then they’ll be just awesome soldiers," she shot back. "So, if you have to be a wizard, I’ll be a [Spell Blade]. But I don’t want to be. If you’re a wizard, you have to be careful to balance Wit and Spirit. And of course, if you have those, you’re not putting any points into Charm, or if you are, you’re just leveling really slow. I want points in everything. I’ve got my own build in mind. I don’t want to have to build Spirit if I could have Spirit as a dump stat."

  Dalliance stared at the younger girl with growing unease.

  "In a pinch, I would accept Grit as my lowest,” Morality concluded. “But I have my own goals that would not be served as well by following the wizard's route as by following the courtier's. So, I shall be the [Courtier]. I shall put my bon motte in, and introduce people to useful people, like yourselves. Speaking of which, Dalliance, I have a letter of recommendation for you from my father to attain you a master to get you spells."

  She passed it over. It was sealed. "Don't read it," she said scathingly at his abortive move to open it. "That's not polite."

  "Master Young won’t make you jump through hoops to be accepted," she told him. "He is the ‘best’ option for getting a good number of spells early—that are worth having. Daddy says you’d otherwise probably got a bunch of technically dissimilar spells, all of them on different pieces of the aeromancy experience, none of them particularly useful together or separately."

  Dalliance nodded. “Detect the audible,” he offered.

  Effluvia smirked. "That’s an enchanter's cantrip," she said. "You can use it to make lights turn on and off if you clap."

  "Of course," Dalliance joked. "Of course, that’s very useful for me."

  "It really might be," Effluvia said. "If you can get a spell cast that won’t go off until somebody is really loud, like really loud. Or you can put it somewhere that people are normally fairly quiet, like in a museum on one of the display boxes. The ushers are there so you don’t set off all the enchantments and kill yourself via loud admiration.”

  "I'm sorry," Dalliance admitted. "I’ve never been to a museum."

  From the look on Effluvia’s face, this was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard.

  "We were going to plan for the Wall?" he brought up.

  "Oh, actually, Father says that you’re in good hands there. Solidarity. No one has an ill word to say about your uncle, other than his, you know . . . ." piped up Morality again, before Effie could respond.

  He did know.

  "I’m sure you’ll be just fine with a few new spells under your belt, plus fighting from the safety of the wall tops. Deaths on the Wall are much less common," Effluvia said. "We don’t have to worry. We’re probably going to see each other tomorrow.”

  “We'll be fine."

  This last was from Charity.

  "If anyone can bequeath anything," Whimsy asked suddenly, "What happened? Why didn't you, Effie?"

  "It’s not done. Even if you could keep the secret, which we can . . . even if you can stop the spread, which we can . . . ."

  Morality looked over to her.

  "They all come back to Charity," Effluvia said. "To be bound."

  "Yes, mom," said Morality, rebelliously.

  Charity looked vaguely upset at being volunteered.

  "It’s just not done. It’s not the way of the world," said Earnest, breaking the tension. Or trying.

  Effluvia gave him a hard stare.

  "While we’re at it," Earnest said, "how about I give your sister [Inspiration]?"

  Stick it to the System.

  "You took [Inspiration]?" asked Effluvia, narrowing her eyes. "For what purpose?"

  "Mostly," Dalliance said, "he made me raise my hand in class a lot.”

  “Or pick his nose. I was twelve," Earnest said cheerfully. "We’ve all grown up a lot since then."

  "It’s only been a year since then," said Whimsy.

  "I am twelve," said Morality, “Nearly.” She ceded the point when the table turned to look at her. "I’m younger than you were, anyway, and I would’ve made a better choice. If you were a [Con Man] or planning to rob people," she trailed off, then pointed. "You should give it to Whimsy."

  Dalliance didn’t know what plans were hatching behind those dark eyes, but had a feeling his sister was going to be a nightmare on the field.