“Put on that brown cloak,” I order her before turning back to the merchant. Beads of sweat drip down her skin; with a div?ner thief, one wrong move could be her last. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I promise. “I just need to make a trade.”
I peek out the front of the stall as the girl changes into the muted cloak, tightening my grasp when the merchant lets out a muffled yelp. The market’s crawling with enough guards to fill an army. The scrambling traders and villagers add to the chaos. I search for a way out of this madness, but no escape route emerges. We have no choice.
We’ll just have to test our fortune.
I duck back into the stall as the girl pulls the hood of her new cloak low over her forehead. I grab the fine robe she was wearing and shove it into the merchant’s hands. The fear in the trader’s eyes dims as the soft velvet passes through her fingers.
I lower the dagger from her neck and grab a cloak of my own, hiding my white hair under its dark hood.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
The girl manages a nod. A hint of determination flashes in her eyes, but I still detect a paralyzing terror.
“Follow me.” We exit the stall and step into the pandemonium. Though guards stop right in front of us, our brown cloaks act as a shield. They’re searching for noble blood. Thank the gods.
Maybe we actually have a chance.
“Walk quickly,” I hiss under my breath as we move through the spaces between the textile stalls. “But don’t—” I grab her by the cloak before she goes too far. “Don’t run. You’ll draw attention. Blend into the crowd.”
The girl nods and tries to speak, but no words come out. It’s all she can do to tail me like a lionaire cub, never more than two steps behind.
We push through the crowd until we reach the market’s edge. Though guards cover the main entrance, there’s an opening on the side manned by only one guard. When he steps forward to interrogate a noble, I spot our chance.
“Quick.” I squeeze behind a stock trader’s stall to slip from the crowded market down the stone streets of the merchant quarter. I breathe a sigh of relief as the girl’s petite frame breaks free, but when we turn, two hulking guards block our path.
Oh gods. My feet skid to a stop. The silver coins jingle in my pack. I glance at the girl; her brown skin has lost most of its color.
“Is there a problem?” I ask the guards as innocently as I can.
One crosses his treelike arms. “Fugitive’s on the loose. No one leaves until she’s caught.”
“Our mistake,” I apologize with a respectful bow. “We’ll wait inside.”
Dammit. I turn and walk back toward the stalls, scanning the frantic market. If all the exits are covered, we need a new plan. We need a new way to get—
Wait.
Though I’m almost back in the market, the girl isn’t by my side. I turn to find her frozen before the guards, the slightest tremble visible in her awkwardly placed hands.
For gods’ sakes!
I open my mouth to hiss her name, but I don’t even know it. I’ve risked everything for a stranger. And now she’s going to get us killed.
I try to distract the guards, but one is already reaching for the girl’s hood. There’s no time. I grab my metal rod and flick. “Duck!”
The girl drops to the ground. I whip my staff and smack it against the guard’s skull. A sickening crack rings through the air as he collapses into the dirt. Before the other can unsheathe his sword, I thrust my staff into his sternum.
“Ugh!”
With a swift kick to the jaw, he falls back, lying unconscious in the red dirt.
“Skies!” The girl curses like a noble. I retract my staff. Skies is right. Now I’ve attacked the guards.
Now we’re really going to die.
Tzain’s imminent fury flashes in my mind as we take off, sprinting as fast as we can through the merchant quarter.
Don’t screw this up. Get in. Get out. Where in that plan did it make sense to help a fugitive?
As we tear through the streets lined with pastel-colored buildings, two troops of royal guards fight to take us down. Their shouts grow loud. Their footsteps pound even louder. With swords drawn, they close in, only a few paces behind.
“Do you know where we are?” I ask.
“A little,” she pants, eyes wide with panic. “Enough to get us to the slums, but—”
“Head there!”
She pushes forward, sprinting a step ahead of me to take the lead. I follow her as we run through the stone streets, blowing by confused merchants in our dash. Adrenaline rushes through my veins. Heat buzzes beneath my skin. We’re not going to make it. There’s no way we’ll escape.
Relax, I hear Mama Agba in my head. I force myself to take a deep breath. Be resourceful. Use the surroundings to your advantage.
I scan the compact streets of the merchant quarter in desperation. As we round the corner, I spy a towering stack of wooden barrels. That’ll do.
I expand my staff and take a giant swing at the tower’s base. When the first barrel comes crashing to the ground, I know the rest are soon to follow.
The guards’ screams fill the air as the barrels take them down. The diversion gives us enough time to sprint into the slums and stop to catch our breaths.
“What now?” the girl gasps.
“You don’t know the way out?”
She shakes her head, sweat dripping down her face. “I’ve never been to this part of town.”
The slums looked like a labyrinth from afar, but from within, the shacks and shanties cluster like a web. The narrow paths and dirt streets tangle before our eyes. There’s no exit in sight.
“This way.” I point to the street opposite the merchant quarter. “If that way leads toward the city center, this has to lead out.”
We kick up clouds of dirt running as fast as we can. But a troop of guards cuts us off—we have no choice but to dash the other way.
“Skies,” the girl gasps as we race through an alley, riling up a group of homeless kosidán. For a moment, I’m amazed she’s made it this far. I doubt evading her soldiers was part of her noble education.
We round another corner, just paces ahead of the guards. I push myself to run faster when the girl yanks me back.
“What are you—”
She presses her hand to my mouth and pushes me against a shanty’s wall. It’s only then that I notice the narrow space we’ve squeezed between.
Please work. For the second time in over a decade, I lift up a prayer, calling to any god who might still be there. Please, I beg. Please, please hide us.
My heart threatens to break free of my rib cage, pounding so hard I’m convinced the sound will give us away. But when the troop nears, they rumble by like rhinomes chasing prey.
I look up to the sky, blinking as the clouds pass overhead. Bright rays of light shine in between their gaps. It’s almost like the gods have risen from the dead, resurrected from the graveyard formed after the carnage of the Raid. Whatever’s up there is blessing me.
I just hope that blessing doesn’t run out.