"What were the two murders?" Annette asks. 

"I don't have Mandarin, do you have someone investigating who has Mandarin?" asks Suze.

"The murders are suspected, not confirmed, we were in the middle of trying to get confirmation when they adopted him. His affinity is - mal control, we have documentation he's been coaxing mals in the bathroom to him for trade supplies. He showed up in Johannesburg, got turned away because they were full up, and then a really convenient attack from a kvenlick - they're not urban monsters, they're too big and mundies see them - took out one of the other fourteen year olds; he was on the scene by coincidence, heroically saved some younger kids, and got the slot. Then a girl went on a supply run with him, was friendly with him, agreed to tailor some clothes for him, and a couple hours later was bedbound with - well, either half her life force drained or a really conveniently timed bout of severe illness. She'd have died if we hadn't broken down the door in the course of the investigation, and she's....probably going to die anyway, the nurse didn't look optimistic. Annaka's been leading this and she has, like, spell-adequate Mandarin, and so does Olivia, we are going to need someone fluent but we want to get everyone on the same page first."

"Okay," Annette says grimly. If this kid killed an enclaver, something has to be done. "Do you need all of us or just representation."

"Whoever you want to send."

"Okay. David, Octavia, you stay here and keep the underclassmen from getting too inquisitive. Ethan, you come along with me." 

Suze collects her stuff. "Where're we going?"

"Room 404."

Well that's not a concerning omen at all.

Montreal and Toronto. Knock knock.

The door opens on a (the) Montréal junior. 

"Can we help you?" She asks, more flat than anything. 

"Need to talk to your seniors. It's an emergency."

"Montréal doesn't have any seniors," she steps back a bit, though, looking over to Toronto's part of the room. 

"Sure, your juniors and Toronto's seniors, whoever makes calls for your enclave."

On the Toronto side of the room, someone stands up—an impeccably dressed girl who looks too old for school, clocking at 23 or so even though she can't reasonably be much more than 18. "That would be me."

"And me," Sara nods, "Only the seniors and juniors?" 

"We're going to have a time fitting everyone in the room as it is, we're talking to, uh, all the non-Sino enclaves."

"I can speak for Toronto," says Anne. "Assuming your business is worth my time but that seems like a reasonable assumption."

"I wish I were wasting it." He turns to look expectantly at Montreal.

She gives a wry smile, "It's just me, and the frosh. Are we going to get an explanation before we block off our next hour for a mystery?" 

"Once the room's clear I'm authorized to give you as much information as you need to decide whether to come and who to send."

Well then, if it's that urgent she can go rustle up her freshmen and send them to wait outside. 

Anne does the same, leaving a handful of her fellow seniors in the room.

"There's a freshman maleficer suspected of two murders; we were in the middle of an investigation when Shanghai publicly adopted him. We're trying to figure out what to do."

Anne sighs deeply. "Where is the meeting?"