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reached into his coat and produced another.
“Wait—” FPS’s thin eyes somehow narrowed even further. “Is that, the letter Rakak sent to Rhin?”
“Yeah. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to borrow it.” He didn’t even look up. He was busy studying the letters. “Doubt Rhin’ll miss it, ya?”
“I—but, Miss Bandi, how did you—? I saw you give it back to him!”
“Did I? I’m pretty sure I handed him a napkin.”
It was a simple switch, a party trick at best. He still had a few napkins in his pocket from the cafe—he’d just handed that back instead of the letter. There’d been no intention to truly give it back the moment he’d laid his hands on it.
Astonished (and maybe even a little impressed?), FPS gave no real commentary on Tora’s party trick beyond a quiet “My word.”
“Well, friend, things’re ‘bout t’get real simple now.” He handed back the letters FPS found with a satisfied grin. “Writin’s the same. Y’know what that means?”
“The old boy’s alive! And he really did steal the amulet! This Rakak.” FPS’s eyes glimmered a moment, then narrowed again in thought. “…He is a boy, right? We’ve clarified that?”
“Yes, an old grumpy ass asuran boy,” Tora rolled his eyes. “And he either stole it or someone with his love for real loopy lookin’ writin’ did.”
A gasp. “A twist! Did they?!”
“No, fer fuck’s sake I’m jokin’” the thief grumbled. “Whatever. Point is, old boy didn’t leave a return address as Mr. R but he sure as fuck did as Rakak.”
He shoved Rakak’s letter in FPS’s face, his finger tapping the address left on it.
“Please tell me y’know what that means, yeah?” Tora was losing patience.
FPS closed his fingers gently around the letter, his thin eyes widening as he took in the address.
“We’re going to Metrica,” he said, awestruck.
The tree could be smart if he wanted to be.
Tora smiled, relieved. “We’re goin’ to Metrica.”
They were going to Metrica.
*
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