The name was not pronounced.
It was used.
Marikka understood this by the way the city responded with a foresight that did not belong to her. A slight deviation in the rhythm, like when a word has already been spoken elsewhere and you hear its echo before encountering it.
Aurelian walked with a surer step, but occasionally his body hesitated, as if waiting for a command that no longer arrived. Cedric preceded them by half a step, his eyes attentive, his shoulders tense. He didn't speak. Since they had left the registry, he had learned that words, outside the Athenaeum, accumulate.
Marikka sensed the first signal in a glass shop.
She didn't enter. They walked past. Yet, when she brushed the door frame, the vibration was not neutral. There was a selective response. As if something was verifying a match.
A man inside the shop looked up. He didn't stare. He didn't smile. He made a barely perceptible gesture toward the counter, where a sheet of paper had been moved aside, as if to make room for something else.
He said nothing.
Marikka continued.
A little further on, a woman stopped Cedric with a polite gesture. "Excuse me," she said. "Are you looking for—"
She paused. Her gaze slid over Marikka, then came back as if recalled by an invisible reminder.
"—you," she concluded.
Cedric made to answer, then froze. He looked at Marikka. She barely shook her head.
The woman seemed relieved. "Then the message has arrived."
"What message?" Cedric asked.
The woman pointed to the side street with a professional smile. "That a meeting is available. If you wish."
Aurelian inhaled slowly. "Who offers it?"
The woman hesitated for a beat too long. "They don't pursue," she finally said. "They propose."
This was enough.
Marikka felt Serian stir in the case, a long, tense tremor. Not refusal. Alert.
They followed the indicated street.
They were not led to a palace. Nor an office. Nor a place that screamed power. It was a spacious house, with an inner courtyard and a low portico. The surfaces were well-kept but not precious. Everything seemed designed not to attract attention.
Inside, the air had a different quality. Not control. Agreement.
A man awaited them in the center of the courtyard, sitting at a round table. He did not stand when he saw them arrive. Not because he was rude, but because he didn't want to establish a height relationship.
He had a merchant's hands. Not dirty. Accustomed to touching things that change value.
"Thank you for coming," he said. His voice did not seek authority. "You have been... difficult to contact."
Marikka did not reply.
The man smiled. "That's a compliment."
He gestured toward the seats. "Please. This is not an interrogation."
Cedric remained standing. Aurelian sat down cautiously. Marikka rested her fingers on the edge of the table. The wood responded with a modulated vibration, as if it had been chosen specifically not to amplify too much.
"I will speak to you clearly," the man said. "Because it benefits everyone."
Marikka wrote in the notebook:
WHO ARE YOU.
The man read it. He nodded. "An intermediary. For those who trade what has not yet been priced."
Cedric took a step forward. "You are not—"
"—an inquisitor," the man completed. "And I do not work for the Athenaeum."
A measured pause. "But I know how it works."
Aurelian tightened his jaw. "Then you know that—"
"—that you have already been registered," the man concluded, without looking at him. "Incompletely."
Marikka felt the grid beneath Arcanum react. Not alarm. Recognition.
The man placed a sheet of paper on the table. He did not push it toward them. There was no visible text. Only a marginal marking, a technical acronym that Marikka had never touched before, but that her body recognized as a classification.
It was not the name.
It was her category.
Serian had a violent startle.
Marikka withdrew her fingers from the table. The wood held the echo for half a beat, then let it go.
"I am not here to buy you," the man said. "Not today."
Cedric burst into a short, nervous laugh. "Then what do you want?"
The man leaned back in his chair. "To protect you. For a limited time."
Aurelian closed his eyes. "No one offers protection for free."
"Indeed," the man said. "I offer framing."
He pointed to the sheet. "What you are..." he made a vague gesture "...will be discussed. Interpreted. Claimed. I can slow down the process."
Marikka wrote:
IN EXCHANGE.
The man smiled, as if he appreciated the clarity. "Collaboration."
"With what?" Cedric asked.
"With your existence," the man replied, without irony. "Grant controlled access. Measured presence. No exclusivity."
Aurelian shook his head. "You are talking about exposure."
"Yes," the man admitted. "But governed."
Marikka felt the weight on her shoulders become more evident. The dependency from the House of Seals. The subtraction from the passage. Now this: a frame.
She wrote:
WHY NOW.
The man didn't answer immediately. He looked at the courtyard, the well-kept plants, the shadow moving slowly.
"Because your name," he finally said, "has already been pronounced once. Not by me."
Cedric stiffened. "Who?"
The man looked at them one by one. "Those who do not like surprises."
Marikka felt a cold shiver down her spine. Not fear. Timing.
The man finally stood up. Not to dominate. To mark the moment.
"I do not pursue," he said. "If you refuse, I will leave. Others will not."
He pushed the sheet a few centimeters. Not toward Marikka. Toward the center of the table.
"You have until tonight."
Aurelian opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. He looked at Marikka. There was no strategy in his eyes. Only a question he dared not formulate.
Cedric ran a hand through his hair. "And if we accept?"
The man tilted his head. "Then you stop being an event. You become an interested party."
Marikka stared at the sheet without touching it.
She felt something change in the city, as if Arcanum were holding its breath.
She wrote one last question:
WHO DECIDES THE PRICE.
The man smiled, this time without calculation. "Not me."
He turned toward the courtyard exit. "The market."
And he left.
They remained alone.
The sheet on the table did not vibrate. It waited.
Marikka felt, with sudden clarity, that whatever choice she made would have a name.
And that name, by now, knew where to find her.