She looked at the girl like she had a second head.

"It's no secret that my husband would like to see the Crown's influence in the New World decline and as the representative of the Crown, with New Amsterdam his city, Duke Richard and he..."

Before she could answer, the room was filled with people, Peter Elliot first among them, with Simon LeMarque behind him. Last to come to the room was Duke Richard, who gave a great shuddering gasp as he saw his wife on the ground.

He went to her even as Elliot sent LeMarque towards her and the Duke nearly struck the young man.

"Keep away from her, you--"

"He's a sorcerer, Richard," Elliot reminded the bereaved duke, "wouldn't you rather find out who might have done this, or what might have done her in?"

"As if I'd trust your trained dog!" Richard snapped back, but something in Elliot's face made him step back and let the sorcerer approach. The young man picked up the glass of wine and swished the remaining liquid around in the glass before pulling out a wand and pressing the whitened tip into the liquid.

It remained white.

"No poison," he said to all of them and Ceceilia sobbed in relief.

Simon looked at her for a moment before reaching down and touching his wand to Jacqueline's body.

The tip turned black.

"Poison," he agreed.

He pointed to the glass.

"We know that the glass does not contain poison. But it is part of my job to watch these things and at no time did I see her eat anything."

Ceceilia was saying something to the Duke behind them.

"She didn't eat anything! I was watching. I wanted to see if she liked the sandwiches only she didn't take any..."

He held up the glass.

"I would be dead by now."

But he put his wand to the glass and it stayed white.

He spread his hands.

"If I knew that, I believe the Mayor would be far more pleased with me than he is."

He considered the glass for a moment before turning the wand backwards and putting the end into the glass.

The tip turned red.

"Now, that is queer."

"The wine has been enchanted."

He shook his head.

"Wrong color. Red would be a transformative working. Just as the tip turned black to show poison, death."

He shook his head.

"The magician would have had to be in the room, and I happen to know that the lady Ceceilia is not a sorceress. Check for yourself: her breast is bare."

He pulled his vest to the side and all that was between his skin and her eyes was a thin white shirt. A black alchemical design was dark against his skin.

"This mark would be on her should she have any schooling in thaumaturgy. I assure you, she is no sorceress, and as she was the only one in the room, your theory isn't possible, unfortunately."

He didn't mind and in fact gave her a warm, somewhat inappropriate smile.

"A thick mark shows someone who's taken schooling. The outline on mine shows that I have graduated."

The smile doesn't slip.

"Talented enough," he said with some humility. It is, after all, a black mark as opposed to a red. Black was the mark of a lesser school; red was used for the great schools.

He shook his head.

"My wand is only good enough to detect magic. It's been... very useful, so I have this as a prepared charm.

"I could no more do that than fly."