Alf knew something was wrong when Mavis bought him breakfast.
Not because Mavis was incapable of generosity.
There was no evidence for that.
There was simply considerably more evidence for alternatives.
Alf looked at the plate.
Two eggs.
Something fried which he had learned was better eaten before asking what animal it had come from.
Bread.
Actual butter.
He looked across the table.
Mavis was watching him.
"How much?"
"Nothing."
Alf put the bread down.
"That's worse."
"It isn't."
"It definitely is."
Fluffy sat beside the plate, fine white filaments lying flat.
Alf glanced at the mushroom.
"No help?"
"No."
"Thought so."
Mavis folded her arms.
"You haven't eaten anything."
"I'm assessing the situation."
"It's breakfast."
"Free breakfast."
"Yes."
"From you."
Mavis stared at him.
Alf picked up one of the eggs.
"Fine."
He ate half.
Nothing happened.
No System message appeared announcing that he had accepted a binding commercial agreement.
That was encouraging.
He finished the egg.
Mavis waited.
Alf sighed.
"All right. What do you want?"
"I'm calling in the favour."
He stopped chewing.
There it was.
He had known this day would come.
Mostly because Mavis had reminded him often enough that forgetting would have required a head injury.
"Within reason."
"Yes."
"Define reason."
"You already did."
"I defined a limit."
"Poorly."
Alf put down his fork.
"That's beginning to sound like a recurring problem."
"It is."
"What do you want?"
Mavis reached under the table and put a folded piece of paper beside his plate.
Alf looked at it.
Then at her.
"No."
"You haven't read it."
"I've learned."
"Read it."
He opened the paper.
It was a list.
He recognised some of the words.
Others appeared to describe objects no sensible civilisation needed badly enough to name.
At the bottom, one line had been circled.
1 crate — mixed damaged fittings.
Alf looked up.
"You want me to move a box."
"No."
"Good."
"It's missing."
"Less good."
Mavis took the paper back and tapped the line.
"I bought a salvage lot yesterday. Caravan had a wheel failure outside the south approach. Some cargo got knocked around. Owner wanted the damaged stock gone quickly."
"So you bought rubbish."
"I bought discounted goods."
"Damaged goods."
"Discounted."
"Those words can both be true."
Mavis gave him a look.
Alf thought of Ned.
He was becoming annoyingly fond of sentences like that.
"So what's in the missing crate?"
"Mostly bent buckles, cracked clasps, broken hooks, hinge blanks."
Alf waited.
"That's it?"
"Yes."
"How much is it worth?"
"Not much."
"Then why am I involved?"
"Because it's mine."
That was, unfortunately, the most convincing answer she could have given.
Alf picked up his cup.
The tea remained Hartford tea.
He put it down again.
"Was it definitely delivered?"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
"I counted."
"Before or after?"
Mavis narrowed her eyes.
"After what?"
"Whatever happened to it."
"If I knew when that was, I wouldn't need you."
"Fair."
She leaned back.
"It came into the trade yard with the rest. I had it moved into a rented store. This morning it wasn't there."
"Locked?"
"Yes."
"Who has a key?"
"Me. The store keeper."
"Anyone else?"
"Probably someone who knows how locks work."
"Comforting."
"I want to know where it went."
Alf looked at the breakfast.
"You bought this before I agreed."
"Yes."
"So this is bribery."
"No."
"What is it?"
"Breakfast."
"Free breakfast."
"Yes."
Alf rubbed his forehead.
"Fine."
Mavis smiled.
"Within reason."
"Don't make me regret inventing that phrase."
"Too late."
The store stood near the back of Hartford's trade quarter.
Alf had passed the row before without paying much attention. Most of the buildings looked temporary despite being constructed from enough timber and stone to survive several generations of arguments about rent.
The store keeper was waiting outside.
His name was Orin.
He was a human man with an impressive moustache and the expression of somebody who had been told that an unimportant problem was about to become paperwork.
He looked at Alf.
Then Fluffy.
Then the spear.
"Guild?"
"No," Alf said.
Orin looked at Mavis.
"Then why's he here?"
"He owes me."
Orin nodded.
Apparently that explained everything.
Mavis unlocked the store.
Alf noticed.
"You have your own key."
"I told you."
"Checking."
"You do a lot of that."
"People keep telling me things."
Inside were eleven stacks of goods and not enough space between them.
Alf stopped at the doorway.
"This is organised?"
"Yes."
"How?"
Mavis pointed.
"Mine."
Alf looked.
"Which part?"
"Most of it."
"Of course."
There were crates.
Bundles.
Two small barrels.
A sack with something angular inside.
Several lengths of wood tied together.
One roll of dark fabric.
A narrow wooden box with a cracked lid.
And, sitting in the middle of all of it, enough loose packing material to suggest several people had opened things and then disagreed about whose job it was to clean up.
Alf took out the notebook.
Orin sighed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You sighed."
"I've seen Guild people do that."
"I'm not Guild."
"He owes me," Mavis said.
Orin nodded again.
Alf decided he didn't like how effective that explanation was becoming.
He opened the notebook.
"Start again. Yesterday."
Mavis pointed towards the door.
"Cargo came in. Fourteen pieces."
"Pieces?"
"Things."
"Crates?"
"Some."
"Bundles?"
"Some."
"Barrels?"
"Two."
"Fourteen separate items."
"Yes."
Alf wrote that.
"Who unloaded?"
"Three yard porters. Me."
"Orin?"
"Checked the store afterwards," Orin said.
"Fourteen?"
Orin hesitated.
Mavis looked at him.
He lifted both hands.
"I checked the store was shut. I didn't count her rubbish."
"Discounted goods," Mavis said.
"Rubbish," Orin replied.
Alf wrote:
Orin did not count.
"Today?"
"Thirteen," Mavis said.
"The missing one is the damaged fittings."
"Yes."
"How do you know that one is missing?"
She pointed around the store.
"Because everything else is here."
Alf looked at the contents.
Then at Mavis.
"You're sure?"
Her expression changed.
Not much.
Enough.
"Yes."
"That sounded slightly less sure."
"I know what I bought."
"I didn't ask whether you knew what you bought. I asked whether you're sure everything else is here."
Mavis stepped past him.
"This is the cloth. Those are the two barrels. Leather scraps. Lantern glass. Three crates of ceramics. Timber fittings. Packing fibre. Two mixed salvage boxes."
Alf counted.
"That's thirteen."
"Exactly."
"And number fourteen was the metal fittings."
"Yes."
"Anything valuable?"
"Depends what you call valuable."
"Something worth stealing rather than merely owning."
Mavis frowned.
"No."
Orin shifted by the door.
"I said that."
Mavis looked at him.
"You said nobody would steal it."
"Same thing."
"No, it isn't," Alf said.
Both of them looked at him.
He reconsidered.
"Sorry. Habit."
Fluffy moved.
Alf stopped.
The mushroom had been sitting on his shoulder.
Now the white filaments were lifting.
Not sharply.
Attention rather than alarm.
Alf followed their direction.
Towards the back of the store.
A roll of dark fabric lay on top of two crates.
"The cloth?"
Mavis looked at Fluffy.
Then at the roll.
"Don't tell me my blanket is dangerous."
"I wasn't planning to."
Fluffy's filaments tilted farther.
Alf stepped closer.
The roll was tied with cord.
"That yours?"
"Yes."
"Part of yesterday's lot?"
"No. Had it a week."
Alf stopped.
"Then why does Fluffy care?"
"Ask Fluffy."
Alf looked at his shoulder.
"Why do you care?"
"Wrong."
Alf waited.
Nothing else came.
"Wrong what?"
No answer.
Mavis folded her arms.
"Very informative."
"That's my line."
Alf looked at the fabric again.
"Can I move it?"
"Yes."
He lifted the roll.
Nothing underneath except the top of a wooden crate.
Fluffy's filaments stayed raised.
Alf turned the cloth.
"Inside?"
"No."
"Under?"
"No."
"Near?"
"Yes."
Progress.
Possibly.
Alf put the cloth back.
The filaments remained raised.
He moved one of the crates beneath it.
They followed.
"That."
Mavis stepped closer.
The crate was marked as damaged ceramics.
She looked irritated.
"That's here."
"What is?"
"One of the ceramic crates."
Alf crouched.
The lid had already been opened.
He lifted it.
Inside were broken bowls, chipped plates and fragments of glazed pottery packed around one another with shredded fibre.
"Valuable?"
"No."
"More or less valuable than bent buckles?"
"Less."
"Excellent."
"Why?"
"I like mysteries where everybody is stealing the wrong rubbish."
Orin made a noise behind them.
Alf ignored him.
Fluffy moved from Alf's shoulder to the crate edge.
The mushroom leaned towards the packing.
Filaments raised.
"Don't eat anything."
"No."
"Good."
Mavis crouched beside him.
"What does it see?"
"No idea."
"You're useful."
"So I've been told."
He removed one pottery fragment.
Then another.
Nothing unusual.
Broken ceramics.
Packing fibre.
More broken ceramics.
He reached deeper.
"Don't," Fluffy said.
Alf stopped.
His fingers were several inches from a dark patch in the packing.
He looked closer.
"That again."
Mavis leaned in.
"What?"
"Something on the fibre."
There was a faint stain.
Blue-black.
Not large.
Almost dry.
Alf smelled it without putting his face too close.
Sharp.
Slightly sweet.
Mavis's expression changed.
"You know it?"
"Maybe."
"That is becoming a very unpopular word."
She took a clean pottery shard and lifted a small piece of stained fibre.
"Dye."
"Certain?"
"No."
Alf looked at her.
Mavis sighed.
"Probably dye."
"Better."
"You're enjoying this."
"Only a little."
She rubbed the clean end of the fibre between two fingers.
"Concentrate. Expensive stuff."
Alf looked into the crate.
"The broken plates aren't."
"No."
"Was dye in yesterday's salvage?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
This time the answer came immediately.
Alf wrote:
Blue-black residue in ceramic crate. Probably concentrated dye. Not part of Mavis's purchased inventory.
Then he stared at it.
Mavis noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing yet."
"You're making the face."
"What face?"
"The one where you're about to ask twelve questions and pretend they're one."
Alf looked at Orin.
"Who else used this store yesterday?"
Orin frowned.
"Other tenants."
"This exact room?"
"Three traders rent sections."
Mavis nodded towards a chalk line Alf hadn't noticed across the floor.
Her goods occupied one side.
Two stacks along the far wall belonged to someone else.
The barrels were apparently not hers at all.
Alf looked at Mavis.
"You said most of it was yours."
"It is."
"That's not the same as all."
"I know."
"Ned really has been a bad influence."
"Who else?" Alf asked Orin.
"Rella has the back corner. Dain uses the wall."
"Either deal in dye?"
Orin's expression changed.
"Dain."
Mavis stood.
"What kind?"
"Cloth goods. Pigments sometimes."
Alf looked back into the ceramic crate.
The missing box of bent metal suddenly became less interesting.
That was usually a sign he should be careful.
"What was Dain storing yesterday?"
Orin looked uncomfortable.
"I don't inventory tenants' property."
"Good answer."
Orin blinked.
Alf pointed towards the dark stain.
"Did you see a small dye container?"
"No."
Mavis looked around the store.
"His section's empty."
"Collected this morning," Orin said.
"What?"
"Two cloth bundles. One crate."
"Anything missing?"
"Not that he reported."
Alf looked at the crate again.
Fluffy's filaments were lowering.
Not because the mystery had been solved.
Probably because whatever Fluffy had noticed was now obvious enough for everyone else to be confused by.
Alf stood.
"I don't think your fittings were stolen."
Mavis stared at him.
"They're not here."
"I agree."
"That usually means missing."
"Yes."
"Which usually means someone moved them."
"Also yes."
"And that's not stealing?"
"Depends where they moved them."
Mavis narrowed her eyes.
"Go on."
Alf looked around the store.
Fourteen items yesterday.
Thirteen today.
One expected crate missing.
Unexpected dye residue inside a completely different crate.
Shared store.
Dain removing goods this morning.
He did not write a conclusion.
He had insufficient evidence and enough people around him to become embarrassed if he forgot that.
Instead he asked, "What did the missing fittings crate look like?"
Mavis held her hands apart.
"About that long. Narrow. Cheap wood."
"Marked?"
"Red chalk cross."
Alf looked around.
Nothing.
"What were the fittings packed in?"
"Fibre."
"Like this?"
"Yes."
"What did Dain's dye come in?"
Orin answered.
"Usually sealed ceramic jars."
"Inside what?"
"Wooden cases."
"What happens if one breaks?"
Both traders looked at him.
Then Mavis looked at the blue-black stain.
"Oh."
"Maybe."
She stood quickly.
"Outside."
They found the wood behind the store.
Not a crate.
Pieces of one.
Three narrow boards had been thrown into a stack beside other damaged packing materials.
One bore half a red chalk cross.
Mavis picked it up.
"That's mine."
Alf felt something settle into place.
Not the whole answer.
Enough of one.
The missing fittings crate had not disappeared intact.
It had been broken apart.
He searched the scrap pile.
A second board.
Then a third.
All cheap wood.
All fresh breaks.
One had a dark blue-black mark along an edge.
Mavis stared at it.
"So Dain broke my crate."
"Possibly."
"Alf."
"Fine. Someone broke your crate."
"Better."
"Not really."
He moved another piece of scrap.
Underneath was a handful of bent metal fittings.
Mavis went very still.
Alf picked one up.
"Buckle?"
"Yes."
"Yours?"
"Yes."
"Good."
"Good?"
"It means your rubbish wasn't stolen."
"Discounted goods."
"It was dumped."
"That is not better."
"No."
Fluffy's filaments lifted again.
This time they pointed beyond the scrap heap.
Towards the lane.
Alf followed.
There was a mark on the ground.
Dark.
Barely visible against the stone.
Then another.
Blue-black.
Small droplets leading away.
Mavis saw them.
"Dye."
"Probably."
She glared at him.
"Sorry."
The trail ran perhaps thirty feet before disappearing into the general dirt of Hartford.
It ended beside a water trough.
Beside the trough sat a small wooden case.
Open.
Empty.
Blue-black inside.
Orin caught up behind them.
"Oh."
Mavis turned.
"Useful contribution."
"I recognise that."
"Dain's?"
"Yes."
Alf crouched beside it.
No jar.
No dye.
Just residue.
And something else.
A bent metal clasp wedged beneath one corner.
Mavis reached for it.
Alf stopped her.
"Wait."
"What?"
He looked at the clasp.
Then the case.
Then the trail back towards the store.
A jar had broken.
Someone had needed packing.
The nearest available packing had apparently included Mavis's crate.
They had broken it open.
Removed the fittings.
Used some or all of the fibre.
Probably used pieces of wood as well.
Then carried the damaged dye case outside.
"Your cargo wasn't the thing anyone wanted," Alf said.
"I had noticed."
"They wanted the packing."
"Why?"
"Broken dye jar."
Orin understood first.
"If it broke inside the store, they'd have tried to stop it leaking."
Mavis's expression hardened.
"And Dain didn't want anyone knowing he'd contaminated other stock."
"Possible."
Alf looked at her.
She rolled her eyes.
"Very likely."
"Better."
She pointed towards the store.
"So my fittings are in the scrap pile."
"Some."
"Where are the rest?"
Alf looked at the trail.
Then the trough.
Then the empty case.
"That's the actual missing thing."
"The dye?"
"The jar."
Mavis stared at him.
"There's an empty case."
"Yes."
"So?"
"So if the jar broke badly enough that they needed your packing and smashed your crate apart, where are the pieces?"
Nobody answered.
Alf looked into the water trough.
The water was clean enough.
No obvious blue.
"Not there."
Fluffy said, "Behind."
Alf turned.
Behind the trough stood a narrow gap between two buildings.
A sack had been pushed into it.
Mavis got there first.
She pulled it out.
Something clinked inside.
Broken ceramic.
Blue-black staining.
And a rag tied tightly around several larger pieces.
Mavis opened it carefully.
Orin swore.
Alf leaned closer.
Wrapped amongst the fragments was a small waxed packet.
Dry.
Untouched by dye.
Mavis looked at Orin.
"What is that?"
Orin swallowed.
"I don't know."
Alf looked at the packet.
Then at the dye case.
Then back at the store.
He felt the problem change shape again.
Not broken dye.
Not just broken dye.
Something had been inside the dye case.
Something somebody had removed before hiding the evidence.
Mavis looked at him.
"The fittings weren't stolen."
"No."
"The dye wasn't stolen."
"Not exactly."
She held up the waxed packet.
"This was."
"Possibly."
"Alf."
"Fine. This is the first thing we've found that somebody actually bothered hiding."
Mavis smiled.
There was no warmth in it.
"Good."
"That doesn't look like a good smile."
"It isn't."
The packet contained six thin sheets of hammered silver.
Not coins.
Not jewellery.
Raw material.
Worth, according to Mavis, considerably more than breakfast.
Apparently Dain had been hiding them inside a legitimate dye shipment.
Why was a question Alf decided belonged to somebody with authority.
Agnes agreed.
Dain was found before lunch.
He claimed the silver wasn't stolen.
Agnes asked him several questions Alf wasn't present for.
Then she asked several more.
By mid-afternoon, Dain was sitting in the guard house while people checked ledgers.
Alf considered that a result.
Not a conclusion.
Ned would have approved.
Probably.
Mavis recovered most of her fittings from the scrap behind the store.
Three were stained permanently blue.
She put those in a separate pouch.
"Why?"
"Someone will buy them."
"Of course they will."
"They're decorative now."
"They're damaged."
"Decoratively."
Alf decided not to argue.
They returned to the eating house.
Mavis ordered two ales.
Alf looked at his.
"Am I paying for this?"
"No."
He stared at her.
She sighed.
"The favour is paid."
"Completely?"
"Yes."
"No hidden conditions?"
"No."
"No storage fees?"
"No."
"No administrative charge?"
Mavis looked offended.
"I should have thought of that."
"I knew it."
She drank.
Alf took out the notebook.
He turned to the page where he'd begun.
Missing crate — damaged fittings.
He crossed out *missing*.
Then wrote beneath it:
Crate broken up. Contents dumped. Packing used after dye container damaged.
Another line:
Unexpected dye led to actual concealed item: silver sheets hidden inside dye shipment.
He paused.
Then added:
First question was wrong.
Mavis leaned across the table.
"Was it?"
"Mostly."
"My crate was missing."
"Yes."
"So I was right."
"About the crate."
"Which is what I asked you to find."
"You asked where it went."
"And you found it."
"Technically."
"The best kind."
Alf looked at her.
"That's not how that phrase works."
"It does now."
Fluffy appeared on the table.
Alf had not seen the mushroom move.
He looked at the ale.
Then at Fluffy.
Then around the room.
"No."
Fluffy said nothing.
Mavis pushed a tiny piece of bread towards the mushroom.
Fluffy ignored it.
Alf closed the notebook.
"So that's it."
Mavis drank.
"For the favour."
"Good."
"You still owe Agnes."
Alf stopped.
The spear leaned against the table beside him.
Right.
Agnes had given it to him on credit.
He stared at it.
Mavis smiled.
"You're learning."
"Apparently not fast enough."
Fluffy's filaments moved.
Alf looked at the mushroom.
"Don't."
"Slowly," Fluffy said.
Mavis laughed.
Alf picked up the ale.
For once, there was nothing useful to write down.
So he didn't.