Beatrice's fingers traced one of the red lines drawn over the map, her tone brisk. "There's an informant. Codenamed 'Wren.' We believe he's stationed near the western mills, old grain storage. He's skittish. Won't talk unless he sees you, Lucien."
Liora glanced at him. "Why only you?"
Lucien's eyes didn't leave the map. "Because he used to be one of mine. From my network before everything fell apart."
The quiet that followed was heavy with implication. Beatrice moved to a locked chest and pulled out a rolled parchment, handing it to Lucien. "This has the cipher we believe Wren is using. He won't speak directly. You'll need to draw him out."
Liora leaned in, studying the patterns inked onto the page dots and slashes and foreign marks that looked like nonsense, but she knew well enough now that every nonsense had a key. Her mind, sharp and disciplined from years of listening behind doors and reading lips, was already turning.
Beatrice watched her. "She learns quickly."
