Chapter Thirteen #2
I had a pouch, patched and threadbare, in my room.
It was old enough that the seams were ready to burst like the skin of an overripe plum.
I’d used this one instead, only so I wouldn’t have to worry about losing coins through holes in the fabric.
Definitely not because I wanted the reminder of the adventure I probably shouldn’t have had.
I’d sell it tomorrow. Right now, I only needed the silver inside it. I pulled out a coin, imagined biting into the sweet, the edges crisp from frying and the sprinkle of crunchy sugar.
And then I heard a woman’s cry. I felt no pinch but looked around just in case, searching the crowd for trouble, and saw a cluster of uniformed garrison soldiers at the edge of the alley a few strides away.
The taller of the group held the arm of a young woman half his size, her fingers clutched tightly around a green apple.
Rill’s voice was instantly recognizable. “Thieving on Springmarket,” he said. “You lot are supposed to have extra coins to spend, instead of stealing from hard workers.” There were surely at least a few decent soldiers in the garrison, but if so, I hadn’t met them yet.
“I didn’t steal it. I paid my coins.” She was about my age, with blond hair and a long dress of good-quality linen. She looked like she’d have had coin enough for an apple, especially on Springmarket.
But Rill just leered. “Oh, I doubt that very much. You look like the type to steal.”
Others walked past the scene, averting their eyes to avoid the soldiers’ attention. It was a bold bully that harassed a strongholder in a market of imperial soldiers, but Rill had never been the type to overthink.
I cursed, palmed a coin in my hand, and left the line for dough knots with only a little twinge of regret.
“You’re new,” Rill said to the woman, and had the other soldiers twittering.
I marched up, took the woman’s arm, and saw the flare of shock in her eyes. And could smell the cheap wine and old sweat on the soldiers. “Eleanora, I wondered where you’d got to. Thanks for buying me an apple.”
I snatched it from her hand, took a bite, and looked up at Rill. “Hello, acting commander. Any sign of the Aetheric practitioner?”
His lip curled. “This is none of your concern.” But he dropped his hold on her.
“My friend bought the apple for me, so of course it is.” I glanced at her, smiled. She smiled cautiously back.
“We’ll let you get back to work,” I said. “I’m suddenly hungry for a meat skewer.”
“We aren’t done with your friend,” another soldier said.
“Unfortunately, we’re late to meet the prince’s guards for some sweetwine, if you catch my meaning.” I glanced out of the alley, smiled at no one in particular, and waved. “Galen! We’ll be right there.” Then I looked back at Rill and smiled. “Have a great Springmarket!”
Without looking back, I hauled her out of the alley and then into the crowd. “You go right, I’ll go left.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime. I’m Fox.”
I darted through the crowd, scanning until I saw one of the prince’s soldiers. “Thieves,” I said, pointing in Rill’s direction. “They’re pretending to be garrison soldiers.”
He nodded to his compatriot, and they hustled to the rescue.
It wasn’t a dough knot, but it was still very satisfying.
Since Wren would probably be worried, I decided to skip another try at the ever-growing sweets queue and return to the inn.
And that’s when I felt the tight pinch just above my heart, the pain sharp like Wren’s dagger.
It pulsed, hot and angry, squeezing the air from my lungs.
I had to focus on breathing, on staying on my feet in the swarm of people.
I pushed my way out to the edge of the crowd…
and saw the glittering haze of tainted Aether only a few shops away.
The Aetheric practitioner was here, during Springmarket. Did he think he’d find the prince enjoying the festival, so he could give assassination another try? Or had he been drawn by the crowds, hoping to find someone new on whom he could try his magic?
He’d hurt who he could. And if there was an attack, they’d panic. In this crush of people, the stampede would be deadly.
The Aether trail began to head away from the market, so maybe he’d realized the prince hadn’t shown or decided the plan was too risky. If I followed him, I might be able to find his hold, learn his name and his face, and ensure he was put away.
The trail was already fading. I looked back at the inn where I’d left Wren, but I couldn’t see it over the morass of people. This might be my best—and only—chance to stop him. I had to take it.
I turned away from the crowd and moved down the road, sticking to the shadows. When I reached the corner, I glanced carefully around it. A cluster of people, one of them in dark fabric that billowed in the breeze, disappeared around the next corner. Aether trailed behind them like a tiger’s tail.
“If you’re listening, Aetheric god,” I whispered, “I could use a little luck right now.”
There was no omen, no white raven. Just the turning of the world and the ache in my chest.
I followed them into a neighborhood of narrow roads, the angles awkward where people had built shelters in any available corner.
I didn’t have a torch, and the moonlight barely reached these slender alleys, but the faint glow of Aether was more than enough to show me the way.
We had to be moving toward his hideout. And that would be quite a coup.
“Fox!”
The sound originated behind me, echoing off stone walls. Who in Oblivion was screaming my name and ruining my—until now—gloriously quiet pursuit?
“Fox!”
He rounded the corner. Jonas, the farrier’s son, was loping down the alley toward me, his cheeks pink from too much sweetwine.
“Fox! I want to talk to you.” There was a softness to his eyes, a sweetness in his smile.
He’d make a very good husband for a girl who wanted a home and babies and a garden to tend.
Maybe I’d want those things someday, but for now I preferred caravanserais and dancing, and neither of those things with him.
“Go back to the party, Jonas.” I made my voice as fierce a whisper as I could. “I’m busy.”
He snorted. “Busy with what? It’s Springmarket.”
My trail was disappearing. “I have to make a delivery or I’ll be punished. You don’t want that, right?”
“Who’s going to punish you? You’re a heroine! You saw the Anima just in time and saved the prince!” His voice was too loud, the sound bouncing through the streets.
“Jonas!” I turned him around to face the direction of the market. “Your father is calling you. He said there’s trouble with…the horses.” Good thinking, Fox.
“Trouble?”
“Yeah. So you’d better hurry.” I gave him a gentle shove, and while his back was turned, his wits dulled by the alcohol, I darted down an alley just in time to see Aether snake around another corner.
I ran forward—and straight into a dead end, where rancid Aether had gathered like fog. Pressure crushed my chest.
I felt movement behind me and prepared to give Jonas what for, irritation triggered by the pain. Instead, two men in faded tunics, their faces covered by scarves, moved toward me.
Assassins.
Shit.
Time to pretend again.
“Hi,” I said, and put on a drunken slur. “Is there a privy nearby?” I crossed my legs and swayed a bit, reaching out a hand to the wall to keep my balance. “Too much sweetwine.”
They looked at each other, then moved a step closer.
My heart began to beat faster, and each throb was agony. I didn’t have Wren’s knife, and I didn’t dare call Luna again. Even if she happened to hear me, it was too risky. I didn’t want her anywhere near the Aetheric practitioner. Not if there was any other way.
I mentally retraced the path I’d taken, trying to recall whether I’d seen anything I could use as a weapon or a distraction or a means of escape.
“Can you see Anima?” one of the assassins asked.
“What’s Anima?” I asked.
Aether bloomed behind them like a horrible, poisonous flower, and they were pushed aside.
Between them stepped a girl. Maybe my age, maybe a little younger.
She wore a simple dress and apron, her hair in a long braid.
And there was a sickly green sheen across her damp skin.
The assassins moved farther away from her, and even I could feel the heat emanating from her body.
The practitioner had forced another possession.
I needed to help her, but I’d have to hurt her to shake loose the Anima. And I had no weapons and wasn’t exactly in fighting form. My chest ached like a bad tooth. Maybe it was time to run.
That’s when I remembered what I’d seen—and what I could use.
I darted out of the alcove in the narrow gap between the wall and the assassins, then down one alley and another.
Three enormous storage jars, more than half as tall as I was, perched in another dead end.
They reached more than halfway to the roof, and I knew how to climb.
As the assassins’ feet pounded behind me, I hoisted myself onto a jar, balancing a foot on each side of its open mouth.
I jumped and caught the lip of the roof with my fingertips.
Just like mounting one of the prince’s horses, I swung my left leg up, tucked the toe of my boot into a crevice in the stone, and began to pull myself up.
“Here!” They reached the alley, ran toward me.
I had just managed to get my right knee over the edge when a roof tile slipped, striking one of the jars and shattering. I tried again, sweat slicking down my back from the effort, and had just managed to hoist my torso over the edge when someone grabbed my ankle.
Her fingers were hot enough to scald, which at least took attention away from the pain pulsing in my chest. I kicked, managed to shake her loose, and tried to claw my way forward across the roof, but the tiles were slick. More fell away, hitting the ground like cannon fire.
I made it just far enough to exceed her reach—but apparently not the reach of the Aetheric practitioner’s manipulations.
Aether flared around me, and I gasped from the shock of pain—worse than any I’d felt before.
Pain and heat raced through my limbs. I fought back as long as I could, until my hands were shaking and my fingertips ragged.
Another strike of pain and my body convulsed. My grip released, and I began to fall.
If I survived this, Wren was going to kill me.