In Loving Memory of All Lost Members of Our Biralei Family, the plaque read. It was on a stone pillar in the center of the Memorial Garden, a soft place that felt like another world compared to the bustling buildings and expanse of gardens outside. The trees above shaded it from the sun, and the sounds of people were distant, almost drowned out by the patter of the nearby creek.

  I sat on the little stone wall of the patio and stared at the plaque.

  At least it was peaceful here. I came here any time I wasn’t working, feeling at the gaps in my life like a child might poke at the raw gum where they’d lost a tooth. I was no longer a trainee Mage, studying at all hours. My friendships were mostly shallow, and my dating prospects slim to none. I could have had some appeal as a talented Mage, if not for my many oddities. So I spent my time here.

  It seemed like all my life I had plans, but now I’d followed them all to their ends. I thought that there must be some next step, some plan to fix things, some grand ambition to fill the hollow of my heart if only I could find it. But like every other time I came here, the plaque yielded no answer to what I was supposed to do. It was the same still, silent memorial to everything I had lost.

  I jumped when abrupt shouting broke the quiet.

  “Izak! Izak!” A girl came running in. Nearly a teenager, she ran as recklessly as a small child. She almost plowed me over, but I hastily teleported a few feet away and she caught herself on the stone wall. It was lucky my personal teleportation magic was so ingrained by then that I could do it by instinct, without a glance at my rune tattoos.

  “Bella?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”

  Her white trainee Mage robes matched her pale skin and near colorless blue eyes, even grubby as the cloth was. It was in stark contrast to the black and gold Mage tag in her ear, the same colors as all Mage tags, but the robes did fit the white ring she wore as a pendant to mark her as a trainee. The ring I wore myself, on my pointer finger as most male Mages did, was the vibrant purple of an Intermediate Mage.

  “Message!” She paused to breathe more. “Message from Shamora.”

  She held out a little note to me. I hesitated for just a moment. Mage trainees sometimes played messenger for pocket money, but usually only recruits, not those who were born Biraleis as Bella was. They had money enough from their parents.

  Though I supposed Shamora had more to offer than money. She baked delightful treats, excellent for both children and adults. It was a helpful thing to do, for someone who worked as a Healer for children.

  “Thank you.” I reached out and took the message.

  The Cult left a new body behind, way in the South near the border. You know it’s all hands on deck for that, but everyone’s still trying to figure out the last corpse. And I know who’s in charge of this investigation: Commander Calmur. If you go quick, you can get them to bring you on. You should go out into the world and stop moping around that courtyard. The Southern Provinces are beautiful this time of year. - Shamora

  I half-grimaced, half-smiled. The odd affectionate bluntness of the letter was certainly Shamora’s style. She was right, of course, as even I knew my frequent brooding around the Memorial Garden wasn’t healthy. The Southern provinces were famous for their wild, luscious forests, and it had been a long time since I’d been in any woods at all.

  Here was a new plan, just as I’d wanted. I didn’t know if I should encourage or crush the crawling hope at the edges of my heart. At least now I had a next step.

  “You can tell her I’ll go to Commander Calmur straight away,” I told Bella. “She’ll want to hear it.”

  Bella nodded and skipped away.

  The memorial was the dead end destination of one of the bridges that ran over the garden creek, tucked in between the Mage Division buildings and a greenhouse. This place once had flower beds full of roses and exotic flowers as part of Emperor Raxolas’s summer palace, but now held practical herbs and vegetables as part of Mage Division Headquarters. Once there had been wealthy court mages here, comparing the latest fashions in robes and staffs that no modern mage would carry, now there was a government department full of mages who carried the name Biralei.

  I took one last deep breath from the clear, subtly fragrant air and teleported to the West Wing of Headquarters.

  The spell was designed to nudge me out of the way of walls and other people, so it deposited me in an unused corner. I headed directly to Commander Calmur’s office. This place was a labyrinth when I was first brought here, but now it was a familiar warren. The Mage Division charm implanted in my arm hummed slightly as I teleported, making sure I didn’t run afoul of the protective magics around the campus.

  “I need to teleport an initial assessment group out there now,” I could hear Calmur say through the door. “The others can follow by airship and get there in the evening-”

  My timing was perfect. I knocked tartly on the door.

  “Come in, but it better be important!” he barked from the other side.

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  Pushing the door open, I stepped inside. I ran a hand over my Mage uniform nervously, even though I had it spelled to be as perfect and unwrinkled as the day it was made. The uniform was the same as for normal enforcement officers, high-collared and double breasted with sturdy boots, but with a sleeker, custom fit and silver trim. Unlike certain peacocking young Mages, the best clothing I could afford was my uniform, so it had to be perfect and elegant.

  The office was a place of opulence, with sturdy dark redwood furniture and emerald brocade wallpaper maintained from the old Imperial days. Commander Calmur Biralei was an average-sized man with light skin chronically pink with anger, but the weight of his magic made him seem larger and grander. His red ring, dark as a blood clot, marked him as an Advanced Mage.

  “I heard there was a new murder by the Cult of Tyrants,” I said. “I wanted to offer my services as an Intermediate-level Spacetime Mage. Could you use one?”

  Nalei Biralei, a dark-skinned young woman around my age with a soft blue Rudimentary Mage ring, stood at Calmur’s deskside making notes. She’d graduated the year before me, but most our age were still only Rudimentary. In any case, she’d opted for the Procreation Program, which traded a career delay for better living quarters and an additional stipend. Nalei looked at me with curiosity, but Calmur just frowned.

  Calmur sighed, looking back down at his desk even as he began speaking. “Has rumor gotten around so quickly? I swear the gabbing mouths in this place threaten state secrets more than spies. You know your job is to keep an eye on things here at Headquarters.”

  “Headquarters is the heavily defensible home of the Mage Division of the Westrion Government,” I said. “It will be alright for a few days without me. I could be an asset.”

  My heart beat hard in my ears. I haven’t left this city since I was nine years old. I need to get out of this place and distract myself before I go insane. There’s still too much memory of loss here. Come on, you all made me an Intermediate Mage at 19, did you not intend to use me?

  I didn’t say any of those things because none of it would help my case. Anyway, they had been employing my skills here, particularly my time-related ritual magic. It was just all boring desk work, or worse, work in the cages Headquarters kept for Mage prisoners. I’d chosen the Enforcers as my career track to be out in the field, not pent up as a routine desk mage like so many recruited Biraleis were.

  Calmur eyed me. “You are… skilled enough. This could likely be a fake, a copycat of the cult. If that’s the case, you would come back after only a day.”

  “That’s alright,” I said immediately. “I can do that.”

  At that moment I felt I could do anything, as long as it got me out of here. For all its size, the Mage Division complex had started feeling more and more like a prison.

  He frowned, seemingly still unconvinced. I needed to push a little harder.

  “Is your son on the mission?” I asked. “Milo?”

  Calmur frowned harder at that, as I knew he would. His son was an embarrassment to him, and he sent the boy out on missions as much as he could. It was rumored that one more screw-up could end up with Milo assigned to a back-end rural province, and I wouldn’t be surprised.

  “Hmm. Yes. Do you… know of my son, then?” he asked.

  “I do! We were in the same class together as trainee Mages,” I said. I gave Calmur my most falsely-friendly ‘I know something you don’t’ smile. “You know how close those classes are. We all bunked together in the first three years, you know, and the boys were still on the same floor after that.”

  I had been on the boys floor by then, and I had seen plenty of Milo’s antics. We’d never gotten along, but I’d regrettably hooked up with him once. It was in the months after Adain’s death, when I had been making the worst decisions. If anything, it seemed to make Milo hate me more.

  No rumors about it had started up… yet. I think Milo had been too ashamed to brag. He was never quite as talkative about his male conquests as his female ones, and me even less so. My smile hardened. What did one more rumor about Milo, or me for that matter, mean? Nothing to me, everything to Commander Calmur.

  For all the institution of the Mage Division prided itself on its progressive policies and acceptance of sexual and gender nonconformity, the fact of social life was judgment and a tendency toward exclusion. Calmur’s reputation was already hit by his son’s open bed; everyone knew he was desperate to quash the rumors that nibbled at his respectability. I might not even need to do anything more than hint at further scandal, as long as he picked up on it.

  He clearly did. With a sigh, he nodded assent.

  “Nalei, you get the rest of the team together,” he said. “I want you there and taking notes on the whole thing. Izak, get your stuff packed and be in the ritual teleportation rooms in half an hour. You’ll be in the Southern province of Serinesma for one to three days. Good luck.”

  I grinned, gave Nalei a wink out of sheer triumph, and headed out the door. I felt like my old self again, the trainee Mage who thought he could take this whole place on and prove himself as the best of the bunch instead of the odd one out. I teleported straight to my room.

  It was as simple and small as my dorm room had been, except here I was without a roommate. Utterly alone. I was only now making enough credits as an Intermediate Mage to save up for a better room in the refurbished palace.

  I didn’t have wealthy Biralei parents in the Mage Division to buy me anything, so there wasn’t much to pack. I’d only been given the Biralei name when I’d been recruited as a Mage, like Nalei and many others. The name of the only aristocratic Mage family allowed to survive after the revolution, who started this very institution, was now the mark of a legal government Mage. My only jewelry was my Mage tag earring, my purple ring, and a luck charm that was a gift from Shamora.

  I wrote a quick note for Shamora while I was there.

  She’d been my Healer growing up. She was twice my age, yet my only true friend now. She made sure to have lunch with me at least once a week and send me baked goods to make sure I ate. I’d drop the note in the box by her door on my way out, to let her know I’d used her information and I wouldn’t be at lunch this week.

  I took a deep breath in and out. My things were all shoved into a canvas bag on my small bed and I was ready to go to the rooms reserved for magical rituals, where I could do a group teleportation.

  I glanced at myself in my closet mirror before I went. People would spread rumors about me and I couldn’t stop them, but I could look my best. I thought I was rather handsome, for what little it got me. Uniform immaculate, short dark hair combed back, tan skin clean and healthy.

  I was not as bright-eyed with smiling charm and hard-earned confidence as I had once been not so long ago. A hollow-eyed expression of grim determination looked back at me from the hazel eyes in the mirror. I was ready.

  Maybe, if I did well on this mission, they’d trust me enough to send me on more assignments outside of Headquarters. Maybe this could be the start of a new part of my life, one not so trapped by loneliness and grief. Maybe I could do new work traveling out in the provinces, not trapped behind a desk or overseeing the cells. Maybe.