"If you trip over one more loose flagstone, Alistair, I am going to leave you outside to explain to the night watchman why you’re creeping around a regional magistrate’s rose garden in a cape three sizes too large," Zinnia hissed, pressing her back flat against the ivy-choked stone wall of Magistrate Vane’s rear courtyard.Alistair stumbled, catching himself on a damp marble planter before his boots could crunch against a bed of late-season hydrangeas. He pulled down the hood of his dark traveling cloak, his face pale and slick with nervous sweat. "I am not creeping, I am practicing tactical stealth. And this cape was all the local quartermaster had that didn’t smell like rancid mutton grease.""Tactical stealth does not involve hyperventilating loudly enough to wake the hounds in the east kennel," Zinnia muttered, her hand resting firmly on the hilt of her broadsword as she peered around the corner of a heavy oak-paneled service door. The courtyard was bathed in the pale, sickly glow

"If you attempt to steal another bite of my poached eggs, Aetherion, I am going to have the guards drag you out into the public square by your ankles," Magistrate Vane snarled, his face turning an alarming shade of bruised purple as he slammed his silver fork down onto the porcelain plate."You should really consider using less salt," Aetherion replied, completely unbothered by the threat. He casually reached across the mahogany dining table, picked a thick slice of smoked sausage directly off the magistrate's platter with two fingers, and popped it into his mouth. "It ruins the delicate texture of the protein. No wonder your provincial administration is collapsing; your palate lacks basic discipline.""Guards!" Vane roared, leaping to his feet so violently his chair tipped backward, crashing loudly against the Persian rug. He jabbed a trembling, fat-ringed finger toward the double doors of the formal dining hall. "Seize them! Cut them down! Put these vagrants in irons!"Silence answe

"If you press your thumb against that window any harder, Alistair, you are going to puncture the glass and let half the swamp inside," Zinnia muttered, her hands locked firmly onto the battered leather reins as the carriage lurched violently. A front wheel hit a buried root, sending a shower of wet black mud spraying up against the warped wooden panels.Inside the cramped, swaying box of the carriage, Alistair jerked his hand back as if he had been burned, quickly adjusting his crooked spectacles with his sleeve. "I was attempting to trace the density of the atmospheric vapor relative to the subterranean limestone deposits. The condensation patterns on this glass are entirely anomalous. They are forming geometric lattices that defy standard thermodynamic models.""They are forming because it is damp, cold, and we are currently driving through a soup bowl made of rotting vegetation and bad decisions," Zinnia snapped, yanking the left rein hard to force the lead horse away from a jagged

"If you do not stop whistling that maddening little tune, Alistair, I am going to throw your entire satchel of botanical specimens out the window," Zinnia muttered, her knuckles white as she wrestled the heavy leather reins. The carriage lurched sideways, its wooden axle screaming in protest as it rolled over a hidden depression in the thick, gray-white sludge of the mountain track.Inside the bouncing passenger box, Alistair snapped his jaw shut, his cheeks flushing as he hastily shoved his notebook into his coat pocket. "I was not whistling, Captain. It was a rhythmic exhalation designed to regulate my oxygen intake in this suffocating atmospheric pressure. The mist density alone is enough to induce mild cranial hypoxia.""Call it what you like, but it sounds like a dying kettle," Zinnia shot back, her sharp eyes scanning the swirling fog that pressed tightly against the carriage's glass panes. "Keep your eyes on the road ahead. The trail is narrowing, and I cannot see ten paces pas

"If you do not stop yawning so loudly, Alistair, I am going to let the next boulder hit the roof directly above your head," Zinnia snarled, her boots braced hard against the floorboard as she yanked the right rein hard enough to make the lead horse whinny in protest.The heavy carriage slewed sideways, its iron-rimmed wheels grinding violently against the sheer rock wall of the gorge. Outside, the jagged gray boulders that had been rolled down from the heights moments earlier sat wedged in a neat, impassable barricade across the narrow track.Inside the bouncing compartment, Alistair clutched his satchel to his chest, his eyes wide behind fogged spectacles. "I was not yawning, Captain! I was experiencing a sudden, involuntary respiratory adjustment due to the terrifying proximity of falling granite! Furthermore, I object to your tone when we are clearly trapped in a tactical dead end!""A tactical dead end that you walked us right into by insisting on taking the lower trade route," Zi