“Dear Magister,” North dictated. “Thank you for your help. I do think you’re correct in supposing that the ingredient should work, but I’ve tried once to little effect. I don’t believe I will try again, not for lack of curiosity, but for lack of propriety. Also, I’m quite glad that your wheat fields have finally picked up again. As if there was any doubt that you could fix them yourself—keeping up, Syd?”

I cursed under my breath and crossed out where I had written, “keeping up, Syd?”

“Yes,” I said, sighing. “Keep going.”

“I have the information I need, though I’m not sure my very dear friend will hear me out,” North continued. “Yes, I am aware of what has been going on with Oliver, though I haven’t received a letter from him in quite some time.”

“What’s going on with Oliver?” I asked, looking up.

“Nosy today, aren’t we?” He smiled.

“Fine, fine,” I said. “Keep going.”

“I’ve sent him numerous messages, but he seems too enthralled with his newfound power to listen. I’ll try to write to him again, but I can’t trust the post with these things. Magister, I know you wanted to see us, but I won’t be coming to see you with my beautiful, beautiful darling—!”

“Stop it!” I said, crossing out the last three words I had written. “You are so ridiculous!”