Key sat behind his desk while his team argued in circles.

Trudie had spread half their notes across the table, glumly reading over what remained of their "options." Her voice carried the dull weight of defeat. She'd convicted the wrong person two days ago, and the mistake clung to her like smoke.

Their choices weren't promising: capture the woman and force a confession, or sneak into her home to look for evidence. Both plans sounded as reckless as they were desperate. The only point of agreement was that two witnesses needed to be present for any confession. They weren't cutting corners again.

Across the room, Lambro was listing possible methods of "persuasion" that were scarcely legal when the door swung open.

Castor strode in, bringing the sharp scent of the street with him, and beside him walked Lucia.

Key shot to his feet on instinct and called the room to attention. Everyone followed suit. Normally, Castor would have waved them back down, but this time he didn't. He just let the silence stretch, surveying the team like a commander reviewing troops before battle.

Then he spoke, but he didn't say "At ease."

"This is Lucia. If you recognize her from yesterday, it's because you're not as dumb as you look. She is a private investigator who works directly for me. She makes more money than all of you put together, so treat her well and listen to her. She's here to help you, so let her help." He almost turned, but stopped himself, reached into his jacket, and pulled out a sealed letter. "I almost forgot, this came in this morning. It's for Sergeant Key and Corporal Jory. If I weren't in a hurry, I would stay here and read it with you." He passed the letter to Lucia, gave the "At ease" command, and left.

Jory took the letter from her and looked at the seal. "It's the king's seal!"

Key snatched the letter out of his hands. He didn't have to pretend to marvel at the king's seal; he had never seen it before. The letter was addressed to "Sergeant Eulerous Key, and Corporal Ansel Jory."

Jory snatched it back, cracked the seal, and opened it with a flourish that caught Key's attention. He held it by the waxed opening and snapped the parchment outward by flicking his wrist. The letter unfolded with a crisp and satisfying sound. He read it while Key looked on with awe and jealousy.

"It says report to Greyson Hall," Jory read and then looked up from the letter in confusion. "It doesn't give a time, and it doesn't say 'immediately,' just an order to report there. Do you know what this is about?"

Key glanced at the letter and shook his head. "No idea. We'd better go then."

"What about our plan?" Trudie asked, holding up the document containing all their bad ideas. "What am I going to do about this investigation?"

"You have Lambro and Keebler," Jory pointed out. "And maybe the new girl can help too."

The two left before Trudie could argue or offer to come along.

The midmorning sunlight hit Key in the eyes as soon as he stepped outside. He blinked against it, feeling the sudden excitement for a prank he had waited so long for.

Jory walked distractedly with the letter in hand. "You think this is a promotion?"

Key shrugged. "Or an execution. Hard to tell without the word 'immediately' or something else with that tone."

"Maybe the King is going to remove your medals for Trudie getting the investigation wrong."

That would have been Key's initial thought if the summons were real. He pretended to be worried about it. He was so excited that he couldn't help frowning and smiling at the same time. Whatever he looked like, he was certain it wasn't the emotion he was going for. Jory stared directly at him, making matters worse.

They made their way down the main road to Merchant's Square, boots brushing over the cobblestones. Warm air drifted by, heavy with the mingled scents of horses, fresh-baked bread, and polished metal. Vendors kept a watchful eye as early shoppers started trickling into the stores. Their casual calls to advertise goods seemed to float aimlessly, directed at no one in particular.

"So," Jory said, stretching the word, "what do you think of the new girl?"

Lucia's expression lingered in Key's thoughts: composed, self-assured, and impossible to decipher. Finally, he said, "She seems a little rough around the edges. It's hard to get a good read on her."

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"You noticed that too, huh? You think she'll help?"

They rounded the corner into the square, the street widening into a lazy sprawl of carts, banners, and shade tents. A lute player strummed half a tune, not making an effort to finish the song. A cat darted between two merchant stalls, presumably chasing a rodent.

Then, suddenly, Key stopped mid-step.

Jory almost walked into him. "What?"

"Lucia."

"Yeah, what about her?"

Key turned to face him, eyes wide. "Lucia. That's her name. Alrick's imaginary girlfriend. The one he's been writing poems about for months. Poetry Girl!"

Jory blinked, trying to follow. "You're telling me that Lucia is the reason why Alrick keeps getting in trouble for his poetry?"

"How many Lucias do you know?" Key ran a hand through his hair, half laughing. "I think it's her. Why didn't I make the connection sooner?"

Jory shrugged. "So what?"

"All I'm saying is Alrick might want to drop by the office sometime."

Jory gave him a look. "So you're matchmaking?"

"The opposite," Key grinned. "It would just be funny to see him stumble all over himself over a girl. You're telling me that doesn't sound fun to you?"

"If you put it that way, it does sound entertaining…."

As they moved deeper into the square. The usual midday chaos slowly woke up; hawkers paced impatiently behind stalls, and buskers began competing to draw the most attention. Most people ignored the two guards, though one figure did not.

A bent, rag-wrapped woman lifted a tin cup in their direction. Her face was mostly hidden under a hood, but her voice cracked like old parchment.

"Spare a coin, sirs? Just a coin for a dying woman."

Jory brushed her off. "Not today."

But Key slowed. He said something to the effect of, "Don't die before spending it all," and dropped three silver talents into the cup one after the other. The coins clinked like small bells in an even smaller chapel.

Jory nearly choked. "Three silvers? Are you insane? That's, that's…"

"Enough to change a life," Key said, smiling to himself. "Don't be stingy."

The old woman's cracked lips curved into something that might've been a smile.

"Maybe you need it more than I do," she rasped, and tipped her cup toward Jory.

He held out his hand, and one copper coin fell into his palm. It was brilliant, new, and cold as a dead fish.

Jory frowned, glancing down at his hand, recalling the three silver talents Key had just dropped in. "Where did the rest go?"

"Where does any of our money go?" she said softly, and for a moment, her voice didn't sound old at all. Then the air was filled with the shriek of splintering wood.

A loud snap echoed down the street. Jory spun around just in time to see a wagon's wheel break loose and roll straight toward them.

"Watch out!" Key shouted, shoving Jory sideways. The wheel barreled past, smashing into the beggar's stall. The impact sent crates flying. When the dust settled, the old woman was gone. Vanished into thin air. Only her tin cup and a single scrap of dirty cloth remained.

Jory stared, mouth open. "She was just there. Where did she go?"

Key drew his sword and used it to lift the dirty scrap of cloth left behind. "You saw her, too, right?"

Jory nodded his head seriously. He picked up the tin cup and looked inside. "The coins you put in here disappeared, too."

Key dropped the rag and resheathed his weapon. "This is getting too weird. Let's get out of here."

Before Jory could agree, someone up in a window tossed out a bucket of water that landed squarely on his head. He shouted curses and insults, but the person vanished, and the shutters shut.

He sputtered, dripping, while Key fought not to laugh. "That's some bad luck. Do you think that old woman cursed you?"

"Cursed me and just disappeared like that?" Jory didn't need to think about it long. "Probably, the old vanishing hag."

"What did she give you?" Key asked, moving the conversation along in the right direction.

Jory handed him the coin, and he pretended to study it for the first time. One side was engraved with a goat eating a tuft of grass; the other side was its skeletal reflection. "Interesting," he murmured, before stepping directly into a strategically placed pile of horse manure. He made a big show of it and said some of the same curses Jory had just used. He probably wouldn't have cared if he had stepped into it accidentally.

"Yep, it's cursed," Key proclaimed, giving the coin back to Jory.

Jory refused to take it back. "You can keep it. I'm not touching that thing."

Key switched the coin for a mark and tossed it down the street. They both watched until they could hear the distant sound of metal on stone. Then another sound rang out just before Jory's feet. Impossibly, it was the same coin that Key had just thrown away. Jory picked it up, turned it around in his hand, and chucked it away again. Whatever he was thinking, he didn't say it out loud.

He gave a nervous laugh just as someone bumped into him and exclaimed, "Watch where you're going!"

Jory had half a mind to arrest him and work out the charges later, but when he turned around, he, too, was gone. "This has been a very strange morning, hasn't it?"

"I agree," Key nodded, hesitating in front of a meat pie merchant. "I think all we need is some food, and our day will get better. Do you want a meat pie? It's on me."

Key tried paying the man, but he was one mark short. He asked if he could borrow one, and when Jory reached into his pocket, he pulled out the coin they had tossed away twice. The merchant didn't seem to notice the foreign currency and handed over two meat pies wrapped in paper. Key tried giving one to Jory, but it slipped from his hand and landed on the ground. Jory picked it up, and when he stood, he was noticeably pale.

"What is it?" Key asked, knowing exactly what it was. When Jory picked up the pie, he also found yet another copy of the goat coin. It was time for the next stage of the plan.

Jory pulled him aside and showed him the coin. "You threw this away, I threw it away, I just paid the merchant with it, and here it is again. It's cursed and I can't get rid of it."

"We can't go to Greyson Hall like this," Key feigned a sincere tone of concern. "If it is unlucky, you'll probably get blamed for Trudie's investigation and get locked up. We have to solve this problem before we do anything else."

"I don't know what to do. How do you get rid of a cursed coin?"

"I have an idea, follow me."

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