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disappear. “Need to talk, Greg.”
    Nodding, he let Alec behind the counter and guided him through a side door, whose oiled hinges slid in silence. They entered a crossbreed of a bedroom, storeroom, and office, so common for this part of town. A narrow bed tucked into the corner, and shelves, burdened with clothing, foodstuffs, and other items, crowded the space. The reek of garlic made Alec’s eyes water, but he did his best to ignore it and took one of the two wooden chairs guarding a bare table. Greg settled into the other.
    “Don’t have much corn, lad—an ear, maybe two, of anything decent. Expand your horizons. Try the pies.” Greg drummed his fingers against the tabletop.
    “Why the deficit?” Alec hid his concern behind a mask of professional curiosity.
    “Spent the summer away, cadet?” Greg snorted, not bothering to conceal his contempt. “The babe we’ve got on the throne threw a tantrum and nabbed the wrong Vipers. Now the Madam is taking a personal interest, and it’s trouble for everyone.” He shook his head. “Two of my lads vanished last month. I’ll wager you a gold crown the Madam’s got them in some Predator lair, being fattened to fight in the arena for the Vipers’ gambling pleasure. We’ll have trouble with the mages next. You heed my words, boy, Vipers always stir up the mages, registered and dark ones both. It’s a dangerous thing, overactive mages.”
    Alec slumped back in his chair and turned his coin between his fingers. Mages trying to avoid registration had to hide
somewhere,
and Vipers offered a place to go and paid good coin for mage skills too. “Doesn’t answer my question.”
    “Think I’m cheating you?” Greg licked his tooth. “Wish I was. Our Viper guests took a Family’s veesi shipment down just recently—a major one. Killed the merchant, and killed my supply. Most leaf on the street now will make you sick. Wouldn’t sell that to you. Greg saves the good bit for you, boy, you remember that.”
    Alec nodded his thanks—the Academy Healer would notice veesi poisoning in a moment—although he doubted the dealer’s concern came from anything but self-preservation.
    The news worried him, though. The Vipers did not belong in the capital. Their clashes with the Crown and the Family would spill on to bystanders. Already had, if Greg spoke the truth about lads disappearing. Accepting an ear of corn, Alec edged back the leaves and twisted at the tip. It snapped off, revealing crumbled orange leaves packed into the hollowed stem. The fashion of concealing veesi in corn was gaining popularity. He sniffed the goods, feeling a familiar nausea grip at his throat.
    After paying for the leaf and ignoring Greg’s attempts to saddle him with other wares, Alec headed back toward the Academy. One would think that after four years of buying nothing but veesi the man would get the point, but no one was immune to coin.
    He was almost back to the Academic Quarter, two ears of corn secured between the lining and outer fabric of his jacket—evenings chilly enough to get away with wearing it were precious few in the summer—when shouts turned his head back toward lower Atham. He gasped despite himself. Rising above the rooftops, a tower of black smoke spiraled to soil the dimming sky. Bodies, small as ants from so far away, scurried from the flame. A barefoot boy with the savvy look of a street rat and soot around his ears trotted past. Alec called to him and tossed a copper. “What burns?”
    The boy caught the coin with one hand and crammed it into his pocket. “The registration post in the Mage District.”
    Alec sighed. It seemed Greg had been right.
    The boy cocked his head. “You be needing a message ran?”
    “No.” Alec waved the boy away. The message was quite clear. Only the Madam would dare burn a mage registration post in the capital city itself. The desecration was the Vipers’ calling card to Atham.
We are here,
it said.
And we have demands.
    * * *
    Renee