She stopped, motioning for Lowe to go on without her. She waited for Orren to approach. “I hope you’re not going to try and insist on leaving me an escort now.” She looked over his men. “I don’t think you have any to spare. Especially considering it looks like you’ve lost one.”
Orren regarded her, his brows drawing together.
“Where’s Brint?”
He ignored the question, simply sighing. “What are you doing?”
“Attending to my company’s business. I presume you’ve already searched in there, but I’ll let you know if I find something you missed.”
“What are you looking for? We could?—”
“Where do your loyalties lie, Orren?” Calya gave him a pointed look. “Brint’s gone, and so are the Coalition mages he was so friendly with.”
Orren’s mouth firmed into a thin line.
“He’s an Avenor in name, but he isn’t the Guard,” Calya said. “Man or mission, lieutenant? I think you’re going to have to choose.”
Orren shifted from foot to foot, but he didn’t try to stop Calya when she continued into the mages’ workshop. It was a mess inside, drawers turned out, paper scattered all over the tables. Not ransacked, but it was clear the Coalition mages had known they wouldn’t be returning and thus there was no point in retaining orderliness.
Lowe looked up as she came in. “Did you mention Avenor?”
“Yes. Orren gave me nothing. But I daresay Brint is acting on his own.” Calya looked around the office’s main area. “We need to find the map.”
They split up, digging through heaps of paper left by both the fleeing mages and hired mercenaries who had come after them. Minutes passed, the only sounds those of pages rustling or the creak of wood as a stubborn—or damaged—drawer was wrestled open.
Patience not being one of her virtues, Calya inhaled, words at the ready. But she paused. Sighed. Another inhale, breath held as she stewed over the right way to broach the subject.
Lowe noticed. “What?” he said, exasperation creeping in.
“Let the record reflect that I am being serious and asking this in good faith.” Calya spread her hands before her. “Can you ask the wind for help in this?”
“No.” Lowe went back to scanning a handful of folded pieces of paper tucked into a book Eren had left behind.
Calya glared at him. It was a reasonable question, and he knew it, yet that didn’t stop the reflexive walls he raised.
“I wouldn’t have asked it of you if it wasn’t important,” she said quietly. “I hope you realize that.”
She wandered away to peruse the back counter. A few larger rolls of paper were tucked into the corner, their ends crinkled and smushed from rough handling. She set about opening them up, scanning the contents. Layout for the workshop. Another layout for some kind of research site—an old one, judging by the many crossed-out sections and notes to “refer to Roll v.4” and other such scribbles.
Behind her, Lowe sighed heavily. “Sorry, Calya. It’s— The wind doesn’t?—”
Her hands shook as she unfurled the third roll of paper. She interrupted him, remembering at the last moment to keep her voice down. “I don’t care! Lowe, look at this.” She kept the roll of paper—the map—flattened with one hand while she dug in her cloak pocket for her small notebook.
He joined her, taking over the map. “What is…” His eyes widened as he looked down.
“Sink.” Calya tapped a point on the map. “The Sink, and the University people! Not SUSink, gods all break, I’m— The Sink!” she repeated. “I found a list in Brint’s documents that mentioned it, but I thought—never mind. We originally considered a berth here for the joint protection route. Brint was against it. Against Desmond’s Landing entirely, because of the Coalition’s project at the other site. What if this is where Lily meant? That the whole project was moved here?”
Lowe squinted at a black dot scribbled onto the map. “It is east of the other site.” He looked at Lily’s sketch. “More in the foothills than the mountains, though I guess she couldn’t get specific.”
Calya leaned closer to examine the map, her finger tracing over the lines demarcating land… and sea. “This is more detailed than the maps the Empyrean Territories use. They don’t show an inlet here.”
Lowe frowned. “The surveys I did with the Coalition didn’t show it, either. Should we take a look?”
She shook her head. “Too much attention, and we can’t investigate them both.” She looked up, eyes alighting as, outside, Orren gestured at something to one of his men. “I have a better idea.”
Setting the map against the edge of the counter, she carefully tore it apart, downsizing it to a scrap that included the narrow channel and inlet just north of their intended destination.
“What are you doing?” Lowe asked.
