The sun had begun its slow decline and the city streets, awash with the recent rain, glimmered gold and black. An unusually tall galdori woman moved gracefully through Kingsway Market, past stalls and carts and small shops in kints, without paying them any mind at all. She was dressed in dark green, buttoned up despite the heat, and carried a parasol that she didn't use; droplets of rain adorned her curly brown hair. There was a vague purposefulness in her eyes.

When she reached the corner cafe, she hurried to a discreet booth and waved away the human woman who tried to serve her. Her boots tapped the ground nervously as she gripped the edge of the well-worn table. The smell and bustle of the place provided distractions for her active mind, and she relieved the tension she felt by making up small stories about the other patrons of the establishment.

Then she saw him, and her breath caught in her larynx. He entered through the front door, which sang out in a chorus of small bells, and he winced at the ostentatious noise. She noticed his nervous expression and tousled hair with some concern.

Once he had spotted her, he strode over to her table and sat down, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose. Their eyes met.

"Brigaan," he said by way of a greeting, a sort of shaky warmth in his voice.

"Harper," she responded, and found herself with a smile. She grasped both his hands tightly. "It's been too long."

"I'm glad you got my message," he said, shaking off the rainwater on his top hat and removing his coat. "We were in transit so long, and I could barely find a moment to contact you. How are you?"

"Well enough," Brigaan said mildly, squeezing his hand again. "I had to make an excuse with Sherald. I was meant to take our youngest to piano recital this afternoon, and it's dreadfully inconvenient to him to have to go in my stead."

"I apologize," said Harper. "For the late notice, I mean; I'm certain Sherald can handle a little frustration."

Brigaan smirked. Her husband had never liked Harper, and the feeling was entirely mutual. She had married for money, unapologetically, and regarded it as a fantastic decision to this day; the ability to have children and raise them comfortably while pursuing her own interests, while hardly a feminist ideal, suited her personality to a tee.

"What is this urgent matter, then?" she whispered, leaning in.

The professor looked around the cafe. It was quite full of noise and chatter; he gauged there would be little chance of being overheard.

"I have to contact someone, but I haven't the faintest idea how to reach him by the normal methods," he said in a low voice. "So I need information on him, and it has to be discreet."

"I'm not much of a scryer..." she began.

"Not in that way. I need to cross-check a sensitive name in the database, for loan applications, past addresses, family ties, anything that could help me find this person. You can do that, with Cap's business identification, can't you?"

She frowned. "Harper, are you in some kind of...legal troubles?"

"I'd rather not say," he said, leaning in to his collar. He looked scruffy, underfed, and bone tired. She sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"You idiot," she said sadly, with affection in her voice. "Most worthwhile job in the family for generations, and you've thrown it away, I can see it in your face. Is it to do with your research? Do you need a place to stay?"

"I'll make my own arrangements. I'd rather your husband not find out I'm in town," he replied. "Nor Cap, if possible."

"Your own brother wouldn't turn you in, Harper. Believe it or not, the whole world isn't out to get you."

"Brigaan, listen, it is desperately important that you don't tell anyone I'm here," he insisted, leaning in until their long noses were almost touching. "I don't particularly care for Capsen, but I don't want to put him in a bad position. Nor you, for that matter, but you're the only one I can trust with this. I can't tell you why. The less you know, the better...for you, and your children, and your very life."

She rolled her eyes slightly, knowing her older brother's tendency to exaggerate his problems, but his tone made her pay attention. It wasn't like Harper to do this. He wasn't paranoid without reason, not usually, and he never paid her impromptu visits; their last meeting had been over two years ago, as he rarely came to Vienda on business. Moreover, he tended to wear clothes that didn't look like they'd spent the last five years under someone's washbasin. She had to come to the conclusion that he was genuinely distressed. And that worried her.

"Tell me where you're staying, and whose name I am to look for," she said patiently. He looked relieved, and pulled a scrap of paper from his breast pocket to write upon while she ordered them a cup of coffee. "I can't say I am enthusiastic about whatever it is you're planning," she added once the waitress had gone, "but I can't very well deny you, not when you're looking so utterly pathetic..."

"Thank you, my dear," he said with wry sincerity. He passed her the piece of paper. "It would be best if you memorized the name. Burn the paper. I'll contact you again once I've found lodging."