Chapter 2
Chapter two
No Clean Exit
The first trick to besting an opponent who outmatches you is to avoid them completely. With that option off the table, I relied on my reflexes, fighting through the panic clawing at my chest.
The guard reached for his sword, shifting just off balance. I swept my leg in a broad arc, smacking his legs and knocking him down. He hit the ground hard with a grunt and a clatter of studded armor that echoed off the walls.
With a moment’s advantage, I jumped to my feet and leapt over him, heading for the window. The bastard was faster than his oaf-like appearance suggested, and he swiftly pulled out his dagger. There was a sharp sting in my calf as his blade sliced my skin, but I gritted my teeth and continued.
In seconds, I was outside the window, leaving a trail of blood behind.
Perched on the ledge, I sized up my options. The guard inside was racing toward the window, and three guards patrolled the alley below. One of them pointed upward. “There he is!”
So much for an easy escape.
As guards yelled and dogs barked, I climbed to the roof in half a heartbeat.
Slate tiles slick with evening dew made every step treacherous and potentially my last. I skittered gingerly to the peak and tiptoed along the narrow top ridge.
As I raced toward the end of the building, guards poured out of dormer windows on either side.
It was an impossibly far jump to the next roof.
Why did rich people’s alleyways have to be so damn wide?
Guards scrambled up the slope, slipping on the tiles and reaching for my feet as I danced above them.
One guard leapt, grasping my ankle as he fell forward. “Gotcha, ya little runt!”
I frantically shook my leg, trying to keep my balance. His grip slipped on my blood-soaked ankle. Despite the pain, I laughed at my bad luck turned good.
With guards closing in all around me, I had only a moment to decide my fate. The jump to the next rooftop was too far. The drop to the ground was too long. I’d never survive.
Across the street and one story down, a wooden balcony jutted out, perhaps just close enough for me to reach. Running as fast as I could along the ridge, I kicked off the edge of the roof with every ounce of strength I had, and leapt into the unknown, hoping for the best.
I stretched out my hands, grabbing for the railing.
My body slammed against the balcony, knocking the breath from my lungs and making me retch.
Cracking sounds rang out as the planks beneath my fingers splintered.
The world tilted. The entire structure collapsed under my weight, and I dropped to the ground, tumbling into a hay trough amidst a shower of broken wood.
The trough broke my fall—barely. My head slammed back against the hard surface, and stars burst behind my eyes.
Splinters of the balcony rained down as darkness threatened to overtake me, and the fingers of unconsciousness tickled my senses, tempting me to succumb to the darkness.
Only the hollering guards dragged me back from the edge.
I jumped out of the trough, fighting my nausea, the pain in my ankle, and my swimming head as I raced down the alley.
“He went this way!” a voice called out over the barking of dogs.
My breathing was heavy, and my limbs felt weighed down with lead.
The guards were closing in fast, and outrunning them would be next to impossible.
I could think of only one way to escape, and I wasn’t happy about it.
At the next side alley, I jump-kicked off the edge of a building to keep up my momentum.
At the end of the alley was a hole barely big enough to slip through that led deep underground.
The storm drains of the city of Analon were famous throughout Velmorra, a modern marvel built to prevent floods during the torrential spring rains.
They had the bonus of being a convenient—albeit claustrophobic—escape route.
As I ran toward the hole, I took off my pack and held it over my head.
It would be a tight fit, and I needed to be as narrow as possible.
The guards chased behind me as I leapt toward the hole feetfirst. Direct hit. I slid down the pipe, which was barely large enough to fit my slender frame, and prayed that it didn’t narrow too much on the way down. Getting wedged in a drainpipe was the stuff of nightmares.
What I hadn’t anticipated was how an open gash on my leg would feel against the rough stone as I slid down. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. I screamed out in pain.
After what felt like an eternity but was probably only a handful of seconds, I dropped into a massive tunnel made of stone. My feet splashed into a sluggish and musty stream of water.
No sound came from the hole above. None of the guards could fit through it, even if they wanted to follow me, and the stale air covered my scent from the dogs. I was safe for the moment.
A rodent scurried along the edge of the stream, pausing long enough to look up and sniff, wriggling its nose at me.
“Well, you don’t smell great either,” I said. The rat scurried away without a sound.
I could have left the drains at the nearest exit, but I continued southward toward the Wharf District and the Charred Snake. Better to stay down here a little longer than go topside too early and get my head chopped off. Plus, I needed time to think.
I’d never had such a narrow escape. I still didn’t know how the guards had discovered me. My mind drifted to the thief with the golden eyes. A few details were gnawing at my thoughts.
First, I had never met a soul who could best me in the shadow arts, and yet this thief had run circles around me. Very intriguing. Very worrying.
Second, those golden eyes of his had almost seemed to glow. The image stuck in my mind. And why did the smell of ozone and citrus follow him around?
Oddest of all, he hadn’t cared about the gold. He had wanted only the book, which meant he traded in information.
I rubbed the edge of the parchment he’d left me, still safe in my breast pocket. At home, I’d have the ingredients, the fire, and the quiet calm I needed to decipher it. I was eager to learn its secrets, but first I had a few stops to make.
When I finally emerged from the sewers, I found myself at the edge of the Merchant District, right near the Wharf District. Blood still flowed from the wound in my leg. I wouldn’t get far without attracting attention. I could use a good scrub anyway, so I looked for a place to clean up.
Analon was famous for its luxurious baths, and one of them was only a short walk away.
Though they were exclusively for the high-born, one could usually gain admittance with the proper form of persuasion.
As I approached the marble-arched entrance, the attendant at the front eyed me suspiciously, but he quickly looked the other way after a few coins made their way from my bag to his hand.
The air was thick with steam, obscuring me from prying eyes. Vague shapes moved through the mist hanging over the vast marble pools. I stripped off my clothes and headed for the nearest bath.
My skin tingled as I stepped into the piping-hot water. Once submerged, I scrubbed as best I could, taking particular care to clean the gash on my calf. It was only skin deep, but it still stung like all the hells of the world combined.
One vial in my belt contained an excellent antiseptic and cauterizer, something my father had taught me to craft when I was younger.
He’d been a brilliant man and our town’s local physician.
But the local townsfolk had leered when he’d set a broken leg or used a salve on a wound, whispering “wizard” under their breath. They were gullible fools.
That was all a long time ago. I fought back the waves of grief that inevitably welled up anytime my mind drifted to my father. Fingering my locket to quell the memories, I focused on the task at hand.
The pain was fast and fierce as the healing liquid seeped into my cut.
White foam formed around the gash. I bared my teeth, hissing in a quick breath.
The cauterizing felt far worse than the wound itself, but it was nothing compared to the pain of an amputated leg lost to the ravages of infection.
I had witnessed many gruesome things under my father’s tutelage.
After disinfecting my wound and cleaning up with the bath salts provided in glass jars along the pool’s edge, I waded out and dried by the fire.
Now that I was more or less presentable, I continued on my way.
When I arrived at the Charred Snake, it was far later than expected, and the typical din of the tavern had fallen silent.
Teon sat just outside the front door, snoring loudly, lost to the world.
My eyes widened when I saw a mark written in charcoal next to the door.
It had not been there earlier that night.
Two snakes intertwined, forming an o and an e casting a shadow in the shape of a flame.
I knew this mark well: the Order of Emberlight.
These tags appeared all over town, and though their purpose wasn’t clear, it made me worry that something had happened. I rushed inside.
My knocks on Garrick’s door went unanswered, which made me fear the worst. I carefully cracked open the door and spotted Garrick face down on his desk, and my pulse shot up. “Garrick!”
He stirred with a loud snort, blinking—only asleep, thank dust.
“There you are, Cas. I tried to stay up. What took you so long?” he said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“Long story.”
“Care to elaborate?”
I didn’t particularly. My eyelids were heavy, and I wasn’t exactly proud of what had happened, so I deflected. “First tell me why the Order of Emberlight tagged your wall.”
“Bloody hells!” Garrick said, jumping up. “What in the dust do they want with me?”
He dashed out of the tavern with me on his heels. Garrick took a quick glance at Teon, asleep on the job, and sighed. “Useless.” He rubbed away the charcoal with the edge of his shirt until the image was just a dark smudge.
The Order of Emberlight intrigued me, and a pang of regret hit, which Garrick picked up on the moment he looked my way. “Cas, they’re nothing more than a band of vigilantes and rebels who will all end up dead.”
“Isn’t that what I am, too?”
“The jobs you do are only a flea on a dog. The Order of Emberlight is trying to kill the damn dog. And it’s a dog with very sharp teeth.”
Garrick’s dismissal of my work was like a slap in the face. Half the reason I did what I did was to mete out justice in the only way I could.
“That’s the point,” I said. “I want to do more.”
Garrick gave me a measured look. “Not at the expense of your life,” he said, and the look on his face said the rest: Don’t leave Elena to fend for herself.
He was right, of course, but that didn’t make it easier. From the moment I’d heard of the Order of Emberlight, I’d wanted nothing more than to join them. But I had also promised my mother I’d keep my sister safe—her dying wish. That was my real job.
“C’mon,” Garrick said, ushering me back to his office. “Let’s finish our business. Seriously, though, what took you so long? It’s not like you. In fact, I’m not sure you’ve ever been late.”
All the problems of tonight came rushing back. Garrick continued to stare. He wouldn’t let this drop without some explanation. But I didn’t want to mention the other thief, at least not until I knew what I was dealing with. First I’d decipher the parchment, and then I’d decide what to tell Garrick.
So I simply said, “Guard problems.”
His eyes opened wide. “Were you seen?”
“I had my mask on.” Technically the golden-eyed thief had seen me, but I didn’t want Garrick to worry—or scold me—about that.
“Thank Queen Amara.” He sat back down at his desk and let out a long breath of relief. “Did you get the gold?”
I removed the sack of coins from my bag and handed it to him. It was hard to hold back a smile.
“Excellent.” Garrick emptied the heap of gold onto his desk and split it into three piles of varying sizes.
“This is for the kitchen maid,” he said, pointing, “and this is my twenty percent commission.” Finally he tapped the largest pile.
“And this is for you, Cas. Good work tonight. Not a bad haul.”
Garrick took a decent cut, but he was fair.
He helped to find me targets and provided intel.
He knew my preference was to hit only targets who were truly bad people or had done my family harm.
He was the middleman and my only point of contact.
It was best to minimize the number of people I interacted with.
I scooped up my share of the gold and stashed it in my pack.
“I’ll be back tomorrow night,” I said.
Garrick’s brow crinkled. “Cas, considering what happened tonight, maybe we should let things cool down for a bit.”
Annoyance tinged with grief built in the pit of my stomach. I took a deep breath. “I need this.”
Garrick’s expression softened, and he spoke in a whisper. “This won’t bring them back, you know.”
“I know that!” I shouted, surprising even myself with the anger that sprang up like wildfire.
But he didn’t have to drag my parents into this.
My face heated, and I worked to regain control.
Garrick looked at me with pity, which made me even angrier, so I turned away before I said something I would regret.
After a few deep breaths, my pulse slowed, and I whispered, “I didn’t mean to shout.”
“I may have overstepped,” Garrick said in a soft tone. “Come back in three days. I’ll have another job for you by then.”
“Thank you.”
He put a hand on my shoulder, and it was all I could do not to flinch. “Let me know if you ever need to talk.”
His expression was earnest. He was a good friend, but I had no desire to go into any of this with him. I nodded and then left the office without another word.
As I walked toward the tavern door, my thoughts were a maelstrom: Garrick’s words, the night’s harrowing events, and the golden-eyed thief.
My mind spiraled from one thought to the next.
I knew this feeling, and if I didn’t get hold of myself soon, there was no telling how deep down the hole I would fall.
I needed a distraction.
The reasonably cute guy who’d propositioned me earlier that evening was face down on a table, breathing deeply. It took only a couple of shakes before he blinked his eyes open.
“I paid m’ bill,” he slurred in a dreamy stupor, but then his eyes focused on me, and he smiled. “You’re back.”
“You still interested?” I asked, heading for the door.
He grinned. “Been waiting all night.”
“You sure?”
“Very sure,” he said, then raced after me.