Lapis preferred a nice, dry bed. After the last few days, she needed a good, long sleep. Instead, she traipsed into the rainy night, shuddered at the chill, and made a production with Brone of deciding whether to brave the elements while two hunched figures walked towards the Eaves. They wore light coats and hats, much like any other Grey Street resident, but took an unwarranted interest in her hood. She did normally wear one without a cloak when she worked, so good on Lars, for telling them that.

“That them?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Brone’s voice, heavy and worried, tweaked her own uncertainty. “Lady, you shouldn’t go alone.”

She patted him on the shoulder and grinned with lukewarm reassurance. “I’ll be fine. Get in the Eaves, get some tea, get warm. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow morning.” She did not bother to look at the men before scurrying into the rain, her hands in her pockets, head bent. She took the nearest alley so she did not have to walk past them, then headed for the bustling night market area.

The glass windows of the few businesses that sported them did not reflect enough of the street to allow her a chance to look behind without looking behind. She felt over-alert; every sound, from the rush of rain to the scrape of wind blowing items across the remains of cobblestones to the creak of poorly hung signs, caught her attention. Hopefully she caught a good view of them when she scaled the tree up to the roof. Tensing with dread for the rest of the night, waiting for them to sneak behind her, had no appeal. If they wished to stay out of the rain, they would probably remain just outside the night market, under the tarps that shielded a scattering of tables and benches for hungry eaters getting off their evening shifts.

She heard the fast trot of someone behind her. She recognized that gait, just like she recognized his shoes walking down stairs he had no business walking down. She whirled and glared at Rin. He had decided Lyet’s cloak suited him, and he carried the small pack with her chaser tools.

“Rinan, I swear—”

“Swear as you like, ‘cause yer brother thought of it.”

“Did he.”

“He’s concerned. So’s we. Lady, I wanna help.”

Sincere and motivated—Faelan took advantage, but Rin was not a rebel; he did not deserve to suffer this danger. She knew, from experience, Perben did not spare anyone, no matter their age or status.

Rounding on him allowed her a glimpse of the two men. They paused and attempted to hide within the dark recesses of a wall; hopefully Faelan never used them for secret missions, because they sucked at trailing. She curled her fingers into hard fists, smashed her lips together, and continued down the street, Rin easily keeping step.

“You knows them, Lady? Brone and Phialla said they’s tellin’ the rats they’s wantin’ t’ get back in touch.”

“I know who sent them to nose about. I’m their primary target, but their boss can’t know Midir’s at the Eaves.” She whispered, even though she doubted they could hear her. “Promise me, if things go bad, you’ll run back to Faelan. I don’t want you hurt because of them. This isn’t your fight.”

“I c’n care fer myself, Lady,” he said prissily. “I c’n take a shank’er two, when I gotta.” He grinned. “You’s goin’ on a stake?”

That explained his interest. “Yeah. Have you heard of Barad?”

“Hmm. Think so. Some guttershank. Gots him a good deal with onna them burial rings.”

“The guard superior of the Box Guardhouse thinks one of his men is slipping tech in with the bodies and this ring’s smuggling it to Coriy that way.” She half-laughed. “The families have gotten suspicious, and they don’t want to be held responsible for violating more than one law if caught. It’s an uncomplicated stake, though. I just need to see him with a guard.”

“You get paid just fer that?”

“I’ve been trying to catch them together for half a year. It’s not as easy as it sounds.”

“So t’night’s gonna be borin’.”

“Most chasing I do is.”

He pondered that for a moment. “S’pose,” he murmured. “I’m thinkin’, maybe I should chase. Pickin’s fine n’ all, but I wants somethin’ more.”

“Patch says you have quite the reputation outside the Lells.”

He quieted and rubbed at the back of his neck, head bowed, embarrassed. “Well, yeah, s’pose I do. Not deserved, mind. I gets blamed for all sortsa things others do, ‘cause that’s easy. They knows it, too, ‘cause I ain’t got no stake, neither.”

“Chasing’s a dangerous profession, Rin. You may think it glamorous, but it’s not. If researching your stake doesn’t bore you to death, you’re fighting them.”

“You don’t fight,” he reminded her. “That suits me. I c’n handle a bit ‘o boredom. Like trollin’ the Lells.”

“I guess.”

He rubbed at his arm, keeping his head down. “N’ I wanna talk t’ you.”

“Okay.”

“’Bout . . . ‘bout somethin’ important.”

She waited patiently, curious, but he did not speak before they arrived at the tree she used to reach the roof. They scurried up it, and Lapis led the way across to the black canopy that kept the elements at bay while she stared at the second-story of the brown-washed apartment building on the opposite side of the street. She nodded towards her stake.

“The second floor, third door from the stairs,” she told him. “I’ve seen every Box Guardhouse employee, so if one shows up, I’ll know. He’s a popular guy, but the weather might keep his friends from visiting.”

As she expected, the two men who trailed them trotted under the cover of the night market’s red-stained awnings. They huddled against the black brick wall and began a conversation while glancing up at the roof periodically. She sighed and settled herself on stacked crates, high enough to keep them in easy view, and leaned against the next tier, as comfortable as she ever managed. Rin joined her; she felt him shiver and slid near to share a bit of heat with him.

“So what’s up?”

He stared at his shoes while he worried his cloak. He did the same, whenever he had ill news to impart. What had happened? She had fretted about him since the night she took in the Alchemist, and she hoped her queasiness was unfounded. He took a large breath, which meant she would not like what he was going to say. “Well, we went to the library. Me ‘n Lyet ‘n Scand.”

The library? “Quite the adventure.”

He did not take offense, as he normally would. “This’s serious, Lady. We’s curious, ‘bout . . . ‘bout things.”

“Curiosity’s not a bad thing.”

“We wanted t’ look at them old newspapers.”

“Newspapers?” Cold dread filtered into her stomach.

“From eight years ago. ‘Bout a fire, in Coriy.”

“Rinan.” Her heart beat faster, and disbelieving fury descended.

“Lady.” Worried anxiety leaked into his voice. “We saw pictures, there. Of you ‘n your family. ‘N we read ‘bout the raid. How ever’un died.”

She choked on rage, on tears. How could they? How could they pry like that? She never asked after their pasts, respected their privacy if they did not wish to share. Why not give her the same consideration? The roof fell away, Rinan fell away, as her vision narrowed, fuzzing at the black edges. She dug her fingers into the crate, but she felt nothing below the tips. She dug harder.

“Lady?”

“How could you?” She barely formed the words.

“Yer reaction t’ that man, in the Lells. Never seen someone break like that, but you broke. ‘N we guessed, there’s more t’ yer brother than you’s sayin’. Now . . . now we knows. You’s a rebel, Lady? Thought you hated ‘m.”

“I’m a rebel to kill the traitor who helped Kale slaughter my family.” How did she speak? Her throat constricted, and she struggled to get air past the lump. “Eight years I’ve waited for revenge.”

“Yer brother didn’t know you survived. That’s what he meant, when he said he’d want to renew kinship ties.”

“Yes.” Rin was too, too smart, too observant. Too . . . too . . .

The trickle of deep betrayal became a rushing river.

She trusted him. She let him stay in her room. She let him know where the money niches were. He paid her tabs and helped the rats when other things occupied her. Their bond transcended the luke-warm tolerance most Grey Streets residents possessed for each other, enough so that when he needed her, she never turned away.

It had rained that night, too, when she rushed to the House and interrupted Patch while he met with Baldur and several other leaders. She could not delve into the shadows and reach Rin on her own, but with Patch’s help, the impossible became achievable.

They had raced to the ring’s Underhouse, and he shredded the ineffective guards to the inner sanctum, the place they sold their rat catches to the highest bidder, night after night after night. They arrived as Rin grabbed a knife from his captor and stabbed the man—and stabbed everyone who came near. His rage and pain and fear blended into a shrieking berserker act, and he tore through the rough guttershanks with only that knife.

Fourteen. Just fourteen, with too many bloody kills under his belt.

She dared to race to him. She dared to grab his hand, take the weapon from him, lead him from the wretched place. She had to scrub him down at the bathhouse, because he stared blankly, unmoving, unblinking. She forced him from the tub, forced him to the Eaves, led him to her bed, and let him snuggle into the mattress. He vented that night, and several nights after, afraid to return to his cubby, afraid of the mockery he expected from the rats due to fear. Afraid of what he had become in the few moments he lost his mind and what remained of his innocence.

He healed fast. He brushed off the concern of others, waved her away, and planted a grin on his face he thought hid his guilt and despair. It did not. It never would, at least from her.

She slowly came to the present; Rin had wrapped his arm about her, holding tight as she trembled.

“Please, Lady,” he begged softly. “I’s sorry fer it. We shouldn’t a pushed. But . . .”

“Rin,” she said hoarsely. “Do you realize your danger? The crown has no care for who gets in the way, and if they knew I survived, they would go after you, go after the other rats. They’d slaughter everyone I’ve ever known in retaliation for their mistake, even if they caught me first. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Lyet said that, too. We knows it. Them articles, talkin’ ‘bout the raid—we knows how the propaganda works, Lady. There’s no justice, in killin’ kids. There’s no justice, in killin’ servants. Pretendin’ there is?” He shook his head. “The king’s a guttershank, as cruel and sadistic as any of thems that prowls the streets.”

She buried her face in her hands. Stupid rat, he said such pretty words when he thought on it.

She wanted to leap up, move, race through the streets, gasping in cooler air until her lungs ached and she could no longer draw a convincing breath. She wanted to curl up and blot out the Grey Streets, the rebels, the rats, everything in her life. Would Perben’s men follow her? Why not lead them on a merry chase, circle about, and maybe re-find Mama Poison, introduce them. It would be quite the experience . . . at least for those trailing her.

“Um, Lady?”

She looked blearily at Rin, whose attention remained on the two across the way—whose group had grown to four. Lapis thought she recognized the new arrivals as two who had accompanied Perben on Relaine’s tour. They talked, relaxed and sociable, and glanced up at the roof; two against four men with rebel training.

“We’s can hit the night market,” he told her quietly. “Might not be us watchin’ fer yer stake, but it’s safer. More people ‘round, and they knows you, Lady.”

“And more Lars and his group.”

Rin made a rumbling sound of disgust. “Maybe, iffen the rain’s keepin’ ‘m in. He ‘n his, been goin’ out late t’ do stuff with them Blossom bit shanks, the one’s who’re runnin’ errands fer the undermarket. Prob’ly gonna be a shank. Fits ‘m.”

Lapis sighed, depressed. She desperately wished to save street rats from the despair that led them into a guttershank’s life, but she would never succeed. She chose, due to circumstance, to offer her aid to the kids who joined the reading circle. She did not have the time or the funds for anything else, though she did her best to pay for a doctor’s care if non-circle rats needed it.

Rin was her first reader, and those rising up behind him showed potential. She bought books for Brone so he could learn songwriting while he learned to read. Scand had a fascination with the smithing arts, so she dug about in used bookstores for a few books about them, keeping him interested in the written word. Gabby wanted her knights, a topic easier to find than Phialla’s art books. Such a small thing, to provide something of interest, something that might steer them into a profession off the streets, humble, perhaps, but legal.

Sometimes she wondered if Lars had always seen the gutter as a more viable lifestyle than that which she wished to promote.

“Hey, stake’s goin’ in, too!”

She peeked over the edge; sure enough, Barad, a woman on his arm and giggling, staggered over to the night market, a laborious task in the rain. Lapis blew her breath through her teeth, then smashed her palms into her cheeks.

“I’m bringing you with me more often.”

Rin’s cheeky grin did not settle her emotions, and it felt like a lie to act normal, but she managed it. He scampered off the roof, and she pondered how his muscles had not stiffened like hers. She followed him across the way, ignoring the four rebels who did not appear to know quite what to do with her in so prominent a place, and into the spicy air of the night market.