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The first morning in the apartment began with a noise I couldn't identify.
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I sat up on my folded blankets, reached for a spell I hadn't prepared, and found Mira standing in the doorway with Sir Flopsy tucked under one arm.
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“The floor talks,” she whispered.
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A board creaked beneath her foot.
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“That's the floor asking you to go back to sleep.”
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“It said good morning.”
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“Then it's more polite than I am.”
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She crossed the sitting room and sat beside me. Beyond the crooked window, the courtyard was still grey. I'd slept better than expected, though the blankets had made a persuasive argument for buying another mattress. My shoulder disagreed with the rest of me.
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“Do we stay here today?” she asked.
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“We live here now. I have classes, and you'll spend the morning with Mrs. Fenwick.”
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“And come back here?”
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“Here.”
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She studied the unfamiliar walls. Sir Flopsy's repaired ear brushed her cheek as she nodded. “Okay.”
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I hadn't realized how much work one word could do.
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***
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Breakfast involved bread, a little jam, and the last two eggs. Mira insisted we eat beside the window so Sir Flopsy could see the marigolds. I agreed, provided the rabbit stayed away from the jam. He'd already survived one repair; I didn't intend to test how well his cloak washed.
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Before leaving, I wrote our address on a card for Mrs. Fenwick and another for Marcus. Mira watched me copy the street name, sounding it out under her breath.
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“Mommy has one?”
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“She does.”
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“Good. She might forget.”
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“Evelyn has an excellent memory.”
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“Not for everything,” Mira said, matter-of-factly.
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I looked up. She was straightening Sir Flopsy's cloak, apparently unaware she'd said anything remarkable. I could have asked what she meant. Instead, I tucked the cards into my bag and checked that I'd packed her lunch. If she wanted to tell me something about the future, she could do it without an interrogation over breakfast.
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She took my hand at the door. I locked it, then let her try the handle herself. It stayed shut.
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“Still ours?” she asked.
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“Still ours.”
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***
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My first lecture concerned irregular barrier sequences, which seemed appropriate given that my life had become one. I answered the instructor's question about Veyr's fourth chapter without mentioning that I'd reviewed it while sitting on the floor beside a stack of plates.
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Afterward, Tomas found me outside the hall.
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“I tried walking with the barrier again.”
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“And?”
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“I reached the end of the corridor.”
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“Before it collapsed?”
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“After. But I reached it.”
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“Then we've established you can walk down a corridor. Now we work on the barrier.”
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He grinned, less embarrassed than he'd been when Halden first sent him to me. We agreed to meet the next evening for his first paid session. Tomas asked whether five silver bought a guaranteed improvement. I told him it bought my attention, a diagnosis, and a plan—not a miracle. He looked relieved, which was a promising sign in a student.
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The second name on Halden's list still hadn't replied. I checked the notice board for other work before heading to the library. Nothing suited my schedule. A night-watch position paid well but required the hours when Mira needed me most.
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I left it on the board.
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***
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Evelyn had reserved a table near the restricted reference desk. She looked at my bag before she looked at me.
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“You brought the copy?”
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“Good morning to you too.”
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“Good morning. Did you sleep?”
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“Better than yesterday. The floor is conversational.”
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She paused. “What?”
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“Mira's assessment of the apartment.”
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“Ah.”
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I placed Miss Vale's preservation copy beside her notes. Evelyn had collected three references on transport formations. Two concerned moving objects between fixed points. The third was a case study of an abandoned transit circle whose destination had become unstable after its anchors were damaged.
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I read the heading twice.
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“That's cheerful.”
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“It isn't a description of Mira's spell,” Evelyn said. “It's an example of why a return route might be unsafe.”
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“I'm not sure I like that distinction.”
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“Neither do I. But it's important.”
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She showed me the diagrams. Each circle linked two prepared locations through a network of anchors. Damage to one anchor could distort the arrival point. The report didn't mention time travel, and the failure described had occurred during an ordinary transfer between buildings. Nothing established that the formation in the report resembled the one that had brought Mira to me.
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“So a return warning could be about the route,” I said.
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“Someone might write one for that reason. That's all we can conclude.”
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I glanced at the copy. Do not return by the—. It was difficult not to finish the sentence when the page seemed to invite me to.
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***
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Evelyn turned to a page she'd marked with a ribbon. The diagram showed a circular formation surrounded by smaller symbols.
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“Did Mira describe anything like this?”
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“She told me about a red floor, bright light, a big spell, and a lot of stairs. She was frightened, and she doesn't remember everything.”
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“Then we don't ask her to choose between pictures until she gives us a reason to.”
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“Agreed.”
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I followed the edge of the diagram with my eyes. “Would a formation like this leave a signature on a person?”
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“Sometimes. But an ordinary transit circle wouldn't explain why a six-year-old arrived here with future-dated coins and knowledge of my mother's ribbon.”
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It was the first time she'd placed those pieces together so plainly.
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I looked at her. “You believe her?”
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“I believe she knows things she shouldn't. I believe she's frightened of losing you. The mechanism is still a question.”
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“That's fair.”
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Evelyn closed the case study, keeping one finger between the pages. “I also believe we should avoid anyone who'd treat her as a research subject.”
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I hadn't asked her to say that. I was glad she had. I thought of Mira checking our new door, making sure she could come back to the same room after a morning away.
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“We can investigate without putting her in front of an apparatus,” I said.
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“Yes.”
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***
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We made a list of questions we could investigate without involving Mira: whether the archive held reports of red-lit formations, whether the letter's fibers matched any specialist suppliers, and whether transport magic could leave a detectable trace after an unknown interval. Evelyn took the archive inquiries. I would ask Halden about residual signatures without naming Mira or showing him the letter.
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Then she glanced at the notes beside my bag.
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“Is that your household budget?”
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“It was supposed to be my spellwork notebook. They've merged.”
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“May I?”
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I slid it over. She studied the columns without comment, which was somehow worse than a lecture. I'd listed the assistantship and Halden's grading work separately. Tomas's fees remained pencilled in as possible income; the first session hadn't happened yet.
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“You haven't counted tutoring income until the sessions happen,” she said.
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“Halden told me not to thank him until they pay.”
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“Sensible.”
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“I thought you'd approve.”
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She pointed to a line. “What's this?”
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“Second mattress. Used, if I can inspect it first.”
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“And this?”
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“Fuel. Apparently winter refuses to respect my budget.”
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She returned the notebook. “The numbers are clearer than they were two days ago.”
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“Still not comfortable.”
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“No. But clearer.”
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It was a small kindness not to call that a victory. She hadn't offered to solve the figures with her own money, either. She'd helped me see what they actually were.
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***
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Halden listened to my question about transit residue while marking papers. He didn't look up until I mentioned damaged anchors.
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“Why?”
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“I'm comparing theoretical failure modes. If a transport formation collapses, how long does its signature remain?”
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“Depends on the medium, the output, and whether someone cleans the site. In a person, ordinary transit residue usually dissipates quickly.”
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“Could you identify it later?”
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“Sometimes, with a baseline and specialized instruments. Not from a vague description.”
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He set down his pen. “Are you preparing an independent paper?”
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“Not yet.”
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“Then don't spend your tuition on an experiment you can't define.”
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I promised I wouldn't. It was easy to keep that promise when I couldn't afford the experiment anyway. More importantly, I had no intention of making Mira the experiment.
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Before I left, he handed me the first stack of grading work. The eight silver attached to the assignment felt less theoretical, though I still had to finish the papers before I could earn it.
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***
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Mrs. Fenwick had Mira helping wind thread when I collected her. The girl presented a tangled blue loop with enormous pride.
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“For Sir Flopsy.”
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“An accessory?”
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“A belt.”
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“He's becoming very well dressed.”
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I gave Mrs. Fenwick the address card, confirmed that tomorrow's arrangement hadn't changed, and thanked her. Mira watched the exchange until the card disappeared safely into the caretaker's pocket.
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On the way home, we stopped at the cobbler's shop beneath our apartment. I asked whether the owner knew anyone selling a clean secondhand mattress. He suggested a shop two streets away and warned me to check the seams.
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Mira listened gravely.
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“Like Uncle Marcus did?”
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“Exactly.”
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“Did he find ghosts?”
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“No.”
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“Good.”
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I made a mental note to discuss Marcus's sense of humor with Marcus.
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***
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Back upstairs, Mira asked to help arrange our books. I gave her the task of sorting drawings instead. It was safer for the books and considerably more satisfying for her.
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She put a picture of the three of us near the kitchen. The version of Evelyn had a blue ribbon in her hair and held a basket of flowers. I found a place for it where cooking steam wouldn't reach the paper.
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“Mommy's coming tomorrow?” she asked.
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“She hasn't said. We can ask when we see her.”
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“Can she eat here again?”
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“If she'd like to.”
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Mira considered the kitchen. “We should make something that isn't eggs.”
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“A bold proposal.”
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“Soup.”
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“I can make soup.”
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“Good soup?”
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“Let's establish one goal at a time.”
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She laughed and went back to her drawings.
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I watched her for a moment. In the guesthouse she'd kept her bag close to the bed, ready to move. Here, she'd begun leaving things in places because she expected to find them again. Her blue thread lay on the table. Sir Flopsy waited by the window, dressed for an occasion only Mira knew about.
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***
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That evening I opened the grading stack after Mira fell asleep. Half the first-year students had confused barrier strength with barrier stability. One had written that the safest defense was to avoid being attacked. I couldn't argue with the principle, but it didn't answer the question.
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I marked until my eyes blurred, then set the papers aside. The preservation copy lay beneath my notebook. I read the fragments once more, resisting the urge to supply the missing words.
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Adrian will—
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Whatever future Evelyn had intended to tell Mira about me, she'd chosen to send her to me anyway. I could live with not knowing the rest tonight.
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Outside, someone closed the courtyard gate. The floor creaked as the building settled. I checked Mira's blanket, turned down the lamp, and put tomorrow's tasks in order: lecture, grading, ask about the mattress, confirm Tomas's session.
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At the bottom I added one more.
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Ask Evelyn if she likes soup.