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Friday morning, Halden read the account Evelyn and I had prepared of Miss Arden’s visit of Miss Arden's visit with the expression he usually reserved for student essays that had reached the correct answer by accident.
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“You asked which institution she represented,” he said.
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“Yes.”
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“And she declined to say.”
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“She said she wasn't speaking for it.”
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“That is not the same thing.”
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“I noticed. That’s why I wrote down her answer instead of guessing what she meant.”
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He set the page down. “Good. Now tell me why you thought I needed this in writing.”
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“Because she asked for measurements from a trial that wasn’t part of the seminar report. Evelyn and I haven’t verified them against Nessa’s record. I don’t want anyone receiving a number we might change tomorrow.”
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“Then don't send it.”
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“I wasn't planning to.”
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“Adrian, sometimes the correct administrative procedure is a complete sentence.”
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He took out the attendance list. Miss Arden appeared under visiting observers, with no institution beside her name. Halden had approved the meeting after Venn forwarded the request; he hadn't met her beforehand.
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“Venn vouched for her access to the public report,” he said. “Not for unpublished work. I'll clarify that before Tuesday.”
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“Do you want us to cancel?”
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“No. I want you to answer questions about the work you actually did. If she asks for something else, refer her to me.”
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I could manage that. It was considerably easier than guessing whether a stranger's interest was flattering or dangerous.
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***
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Evelyn met me outside the lecture hall with a small folded note.
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“Miss Vale sent this to both of us,” she said.
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The specialist's consultation fee was written at the bottom. It was more than I wanted to spend on an examination that might produce no answer, though less than I'd feared. Halden had agreed to cover the initial inspection through the archive, provided Miss Vale documented the letter’s condition before and after transport and the specialist did nothing destructive. The appointment itself still required our consent.
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“That's one problem settled,” Evelyn said.
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“One expense settled. We still have to decide whether taking the original there is worth the risk.”
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“Miss Vale said we can examine the protective sleeve on Monday. I’d like to see how it holds the damaged edges before I agree.”
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“So would I.”
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We walked to class together. At the stairwell, she caught my sleeve.
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“About tomorrow. Should I arrive before supper?”
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“Mira will want you there the moment she wakes up.”
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“That seems difficult to arrange.”
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“Late afternoon? You can supervise while I cook, if you're willing.”
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“I can do that. Though I should warn you I have no experience supervising a rabbit.”
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“He's the least troublesome member of the household.”
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She gave me a look that suggested she doubted my assessment, then went upstairs.
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***
ㅤ
By noon I had revised the moving-target diagram twice, keeping both versions separate from the stationary results we would present on Tuesday. Neither version solved the problem Evelyn had identified: redirecting the load early protected the moving edge but exposed the section still taking the first impact. Delaying the shift preserved the first section and left the target unprotected.
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I took both versions to Nessa. She laid a ruler across the drawings and asked where I intended to put the chalk mark if the target changed direction halfway through the test.
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“I hadn't got that far.”
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“Then you don’t have a moving-target test. You have a sideways-target test. That’s fine, if you call it what it is.”
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I stared at the ruler.
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“That's a useful distinction.”
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“Write it down before you forget it.”
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I did. There were days when progress consisted of discovering that I'd named a problem incorrectly.
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***
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Princess Lucienne had been called Miss Arden three times that morning. By the fourth, she answered without turning her head.
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She sat in a narrow room above a bookbinder's shop, the gray coat folded over the back of her chair. Her attendant, Mara, had brought tea and the day's correspondence. No crest appeared on the door. The room belonged to a small research office that handled work the palace preferred not to announce before it understood the implications.
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“Professor Venn wants to know whether you intend to attend the seminar,” Mara said.
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“I do.”
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“He also wants to know whether you enjoyed your visit.”
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“That isn't what he wrote.”
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“No. He wrote, ‘Was the discussion satisfactory?’ I translated.”
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Lucienne reached for the report on the table. Adrian's name appeared beside Evelyn von Rosenfeld's. The report itself was modest: a controlled improvement in barrier stability, a clear account of the conditions, and a failure in the margin that would have been easy to omit.
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She had first seen the figures in a summary sent to the palace’s defensive research office. Her interest had nothing to do with the duration alone. An escort detail could carry additional mana crystals. A village shelter might not have that luxury. Better distribution could matter where replacement supplies and trained casters were scarce.
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But the summary had recommended further investment without explaining how the researchers had handled the failed correction. She'd requested the full report and found the missing detail. Then she'd asked Venn for a meeting.
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“You were testing them,” Mara said.
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“I was asking questions.”
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“You asked for measurements you knew they weren't authorized to release.”
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“I didn't know who controlled them.”
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Mara waited.
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“I suspected,” Lucienne amended.
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“And they refused.”
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“They offered to ask their professor. There is a difference.”
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She turned to the page she'd marked the previous evening. Adrian had not removed the failed calculation when it complicated his result. Evelyn had insisted that the impact sequence and the distribution model be evaluated together. Neither had tried to speak over the other, even when they disagreed.
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Those were useful observations about their work. They were not enough to tell her what kind of people they were.
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***
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Her father had asked her to review defensive projects suitable for provincial grants, not to visit academies under an assumed name. The visit had been her decision. The palace received polished demonstrations every season. Some were promising. Others worked only while their inventors controlled every condition and everyone watching knew when to applaud.
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Lucienne had spent the previous winter reading requests from border towns after a series of monster incursions. Several communities had asked for stronger protective wards. The estimates assumed supplies and specialists the towns could not afford. The recommendations had been filed, revised, and filed again.
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She could not fund every proposal. She could, however, ask whether a smaller improvement would survive outside a lecture hall.
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That was why she'd gone to see Adrian and Evelyn. She wanted to hear them explain what their method could not do before a court adviser decided what it could.
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“Do you think the student recognized you?” Mara asked.
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“No.”
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“He asked for your institution.”
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“He recognized that I hadn't given him one.”
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“Which is why I dislike this arrangement.”
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Lucienne glanced at the satchel on the floor. Mara had repaired its buckle herself, using thread from the sewing kit they kept for travel. A borrowed coat and an ordinary bag were enough to make Lucienne less conspicuous in an academy corridor. They were not enough to turn her into someone who understood a student's life.
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“People change what they say when they know who I am,” Lucienne said.
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“Sometimes because they are frightened. Sometimes because you can alter their funding.”
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“Exactly.”
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“And sometimes because withholding your name makes them responsible for a conversation they didn't know they were having.”
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Lucienne put down her pen. Mara rarely argued with her in public. Here, she did it whenever necessary.
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“I won’t use anything they told me against them,” Lucienne said.
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“That isn't the only consequence of a secret.”
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“No,” Lucienne admitted. “It isn't.”
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***
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She had expected Adrian to be eager to discuss the longer-lasting barrier. His academic record, included in the packet, showed competent but unremarkable marks before his recent work with Halden. The exhibition result was a substantial improvement on his earlier exercises. Lucienne had wondered whether the report represented a fortunate collaboration, a method he'd developed gradually, or something the transcript failed to measure.
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The visit had not answered that question.
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He understood the model well enough to redraw it when she changed the conditions. He also missed a problem Evelyn caught almost immediately. That made the collaboration more convincing, not less. Lucienne had seen enough court presentations where one name received credit for work a dozen people had done.
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What stayed with her was his refusal to send the new measurements before they had checked them. She had asked casually. He had paused, looked at Evelyn, and answered without embarrassment or apology.
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He might have done the same for any visitor. She hoped he would.
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“Shall I arrange another meeting?” Mara asked.
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“Not privately. Tuesday's seminar is enough.”
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“And after that?”
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“We'll see whether the method survives questions from people who know more about moving barriers than I do.”
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Lucienne took a fresh sheet and wrote a note to the research office: request an assessment of low-supply defensive applications, including limitations for untrained users. She crossed out the line asking for Adrian's unpublished trial data. If the office wanted those measurements, it could make a formal request through Halden.
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Mara collected the finished note.
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“Will you tell them who you are?”
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“Not on Tuesday.”
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“That sounds like an answer with an expiration date.”
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“It is.”
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Lucienne had no intention of making a habit of asking honest questions while withholding the one fact that would change how people answered. For one more meeting, though, she wanted to hear what the researchers said to an observer who could offer them nothing.
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***
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That evening, I stopped at the market with the coins I'd set aside for Saturday. Carrots were cheap. The good onions weren't. I bought two anyway, along with enough flour to stretch the meal if Evelyn arrived hungry.
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At home, Mira inspected the purchases as though she were receiving supplies for a military campaign.
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“Where's the cake?”
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“There isn't one.”
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“Is Saturday a cake day?”
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“Not every special day needs cake.”
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She considered this. “Could it be a small cake day?”
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I checked what remained in my purse. “It could be a honey-bread day.”
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“Does Mommy like honey bread?”
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“I don’t know. You can ask her tomorrow, when she comes for supper.”
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Mira carried the carrots to the table and began counting them for Sir Flopsy. I hung my coat by the door, then found the note from Miss Vale beneath my lecture papers. Monday, the protective sleeve and a condition record to discuss. Tuesday, the seminar. Next Thursday, the specialist, if we agreed after examining the sleeve.
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I moved the note somewhere I could see it in the morning. Mira had already taken one carrot from the pile and placed it in Sir Flopsy's lap.
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“He's helping,” she said.
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“Tell him not to eat our supper.”
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“He's only checking it.”
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I washed the remaining carrots while she explained the inspection procedure to him.