Lapis loved the dark, smoky atmosphere of the building. It provided a comfortable environment without the stark reminder of Grey Streets' hardship. Remodeled from the black brick remains of a dilapidated warehouse, it was the primary destination for southwestern Jiy workers who just completed their evening shifts and needed a place to unwind and eat.

An enterprising man named Jersen spruced it up a hundred years ago, made permanent stalls against the walls, and sold contracts for space rental. His descendants kept the business as he originally intended; lots of food, from stalls and eateries sharing ovens and stoves, to second-story markets, which offered exotic edible items usually only seen in the Blossom stores, with random knick-knacks, clothing booths and entertainment scattered about. Hazy yellow fruit oil lamps hung down through the center aperture, illuminating row upon row of tables, benches, stools, all waiting to seat hungry people tearing through large, cheap meals.

The hot scent of pepper spice filled the air, along with the odors of fried meat, vegetable skewers, lots of fish. They mingled with the floury aroma of soft buns and sweet pastries, the tang of fresh beer and the bitterness of warm tea leaves. Delectable food smells did not quite cover the rancid stench of unwashed bodies, and Lapis hoped they found a seat away from the most malodorous—and the most loud. The noise, after the rainy quiet of the streets, made her wince.

At least all those bodies and ovens and stoves kept the place warm on so drizzly a night.

Rin grabbed her hand and led her to a tall table with stools right next to Barad and his date. They both looked far too unstable for just alcohol consumption, and she bet they would lose their purses sometime during that night. He leaned close, so she could hear him over the general chatter.

“Faelan gave me some bits. I’s getting’ somethin’. Whatcha want?”

“Rin—”

“You needs somethin’, Lady. Maybe somma that crispy steak you like.”

“That’s expensive, Rin.”

“Yeah, well, you should spend a bit on yerself sometimes. ‘Specially iffen yous doin’ guard work fer Midir.”

She frowned at him. He raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t hard, t’ put Krios and Midir together,” he told her drily. Sir Armarandos had mentioned his father met with Krios, and his conversation with Midir at the Eaves had indicated a closer friendship, but still . . . what tipped off Rin to the fact they were the same person? She sighed, defeated, as he hopped up and strode confidently to the appropriate stall.

She stared morosely after him. When had he gained that? He typically ducked when in crowds, unwilling to draw attention to himself, as if that act hid his height. She rubbed at the back of her neck before planting her elbows on the table and facing the pitted wooden surface while her eyes darted about. More pressing concerns than Rin’s confidence should occupy her.

Perben’s men entered and found seats a distance from her, which somewhat surprised her; if they had told the rats at the night market they wanted to get back in touch, it would make more sense for them to wander on over and speak with her. Did they make smarter choices on missions?

She noticed Lars, but he and his boys kept away, for which she gratefully thanked the non-existent gods. Their public spats always put her in a bad mood, and that night, she could not guarantee her good behavior. She had not seen them in a while, but they all now sported the scraggles look, a style too many guttershanks used as a visual cue to their employment. Other rats gave her speculative looks; she smiled at them, attempting nonchalance, though she doubted they bought it. The ones who worked the night market tended to be older, more observant, more cautious, and if word spread to them that Hoyt had taken an interest in harming her to get back at her partner, they must wonder about strangers asking after her.

One rat sidled up, Heran, a pickpocketing genius according to Rin. She had stayed with the reading circle long enough to learn basic reading skills, then returned to the streets. She dreamed of owning a clothing store, but that desire seemed to dwindle the longer she remained a Lells picker. “Lady,” she breathed, leaning across the table. “There’s been men, askin’ after you.”

“So Brone and Phialla said,” she agreed. “From their description, I take it they are sitting over by Fish Goods with two others?”

She nodded, serious. “Lady, they’s strange,” she admitted. “We heard ‘bout yer getting’ targeted by Hoyt, ‘n all, but I don’t think they’s from him. They’s too unfamiliar with Jiy. But I takes it, they ain’t friends, neither.”

“No.” She half-smiled. “They have something to do with my brother’s business rival. Unless you’re part of the reading circle, I don’t think they’re going to cause you mischief.”

“Yer brother?” she asked, her eyes lighting. “I heard, he’s just like you, Lady! Black hair ‘n purple eyes, and really cute!”

Really cute?

Rin slid a tray in front of her; she did not jump, no, she did not. He grinned and set down his own before snagging a stool. “Hey, squirt,” he told Heran.

She glared, unamused. She struggled to find a similar nickname for him and had yet to discover one that stuck. She would, Lapis was certain of that, and when she did, Rin would absolutely hate it and regret his teasing. She looked forward to his beet-red blushes.

“You need somethin’?” he asked, motioning to the food trays.

“Nah,” She shook her head. “Been good pickin’s at the Lells. Gots enough fer good meals, too.” She studied him. “Yous watchin’ out fer the Lady?”

“Yep.”

Satisfied, she wandered away, and a cluster of rats who regarded Lapis favorably ringed her, wanting information.

“See? We’s all concerned, Lady,” Rin said as he set two bottles of fizzy drink between them, accompanied by cheap, two-pronged wooden forks and one of the steak knives she would need to return to the booth. He flipped his hood back and dug in.

When given the opportunity, Rin slathered that orange, spicy pepper sauce across every bit of food surface he could find. She smelled the heat wafting from his seared fish on a pile of vegetables and rice. He generously purchased her something less toxic; the promised thin, fried steak drowning in cheese, and mashed tubers and green florets, topped with the succulent brown gravy that she loved.

“Figured,” Rin said between happy mouthfuls, “we c’n discuss chasin’.”

“What do you want to know?” She still battled a twinge of depressed rage in her chest concerning his impromptu library visit, but she refused to mention it with anyone else near. It was another thing she needed to bury until she could hide, mull over her emotions, and put them into a semblance of civil feelings. She did not imagine it would change much between them unless she desired it, but the hurt would linger far beyond what Rin might anticipate.

“Well, you gets stakes from the guard and you’s careful in yer choices. But how do you choose?”

“Normally, I take the stakes no one else wants. Then I won’t have to compete with another chaser for the pay. They’re easy to spot; they get moved to the bottom of the board and sit there for a few weeks. The compensation is sparse, though.”

“You makes more, with Patch.”

“Yeah, though the stakes we take together aren’t the dangerous ones. He earns a lot less with me than he does on his own. What he does make, he spends on his special charities.” She almost laughed at the thought of the rebel House as a charity. She cocked her head at him. “You’re serious about this.”

“Been thinkin’, off ‘n on, me ‘n Lykas. We’s old enough, gettin’ caught pickin’ means we’s goin’ t’ end up in a cell. Not much else we c’n do. We’s lookin’, but no takers. Too much a reputation, they says. But Sir Armarandos, he thinks that we’d be up t’ learnin’, ‘n, well, yer the chaser we knows. ‘N charity stakes ‘n the like—there’s worse out there, than helpin’ people.” He pursed his lips. “’N the readin’ circle. Ain’t leavin’ that, Lady. I kinda like gettin’ the young’uns t’ read.”

“You’re good at it,” she admitted. Reluctant rats idolized Rin to the point they would keep at the letters and numbers and words and sounds until it made sense. Lyet attracted the same adoration, with a bit more diplomacy. She should start slipping them a few bits for their work with the urchins. Now that he occupied the suite, they would be available most nights when a rat or two showed up for reading practice, and that increased involvement deserved pay. Depending on her stakes, she could not guarantee consistent or decent recompense, but she would do her best to get them bits every week.

She took a few bites of steak, worrying at the thought of offering Rin the option of being a ‘keeper. She could extend the same to Lykas, and through that, guide them, like apprentices, into properly performing the work. And she hoped constant references to Patch would make the boring parts tolerable.

“If I do take on you and Lykas, you’re going to act as my ‘keepers first,” she told him. His attention riveted to her and stayed, his eyes sparking bright. “And I’ll teach you in the same way Patch taught me. It’s boring, Rin, I guarantee it. But you’ll learn fundamentals that will help you become successful chasers when you decide to go out on your own.”

“Like the paperwork?”

“Yeah. Judges release prisoners due to sloppy paperwork, which means justice isn’t served, and guards have less want to pay you well the next time you fulfill a stake. Patch spent days and days showing me how to fill out the forms and explaining the words and phrases that make responses more effective. I did nothing else. It was a relief, to actually go with him on a stake. And then he made me fill out the form when we turned it in. I sat next to another chaser who fumbled about, so I helped her with hers. She was grateful I explained why and where to place information because her choices had already affected her payouts. Quite a few who enter the profession think the paperwork’s an afterthought when it’s the primary thing the guard and judges use in convictions. Never underestimate it.”

A boisterous man and an even rowdier woman joined Barad and his date. How did individuals talk that loud? Did they have special throats, to project so broadly? Rin glanced at them, quietly chuckling at her consternation. They listened to the conversation while they finished their meal, one every person in the vicinity heard, about how the new arrivals made it past the bridge blockade from the Kells through ingenious bribery.

“You’s at the Kells?” someone asked. “Are them syndicates gettin’ into an underwar?”

“Don’t know ‘bout that,” the rowdy woman said as the talk and laughter died about them. People intently listened, which startled Lapis; the fear of an underwar weighed on more than a few. “There were explosions, though. Rocked buildings! Somethin’s goin’ on.”

Lapis glanced at Rin, then piped up. “I was on a stake in the Kells earlier,” she said. “Hoyt attacked a Minq house.”

Everyone gasped, then mumbled among themselves.

“That’s stupid,” the rowdy woman said, her enthusiasm dying into a serious frown. “I got trapped with the last one, between the Strikers and the Yoh Rikarde. Sat in a friend’s house, hopin’ it didn’t fall on our heads. Neither looked to win, then the Minq showed up. Obliterated ‘m all, slipped away before the guards knew what was goin’ on, and peace returned. Hoyt ain’t got enough backin’ to take on the Minq.”

“What’s he doin’?” Another woman asked, flabbergasted. “Since Shara took over, they haven’t been at each other’s throats. They don’t work together, but they ain’t fightin’, neither. It’s better for everyone that way!”

“Well, he was in on the attack against Sir Armarandos,” Lapis told them. “Thinking about consequences doesn’t seem to be his strong suit.”

“Heard you were there,” Barad slurred. He wobbled about, one eye half-closed, but far more serious than his condition implied. “Nevid and Hoyt, together, attempting to sneak some really bad tech shit into Jiy. That’s Minq territory. That’s why he attacked a Minq house? Trying to make up for that confiscated tech?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But the guttershanks I fought with Sir Armarandos dropped their weapons and ran more often than they tried to strike. If he plans to attack the Minq with such poor backing, he’s going to fail, hard.”

“Someone’s pushin’ him,” a man sitting near, and who looked very concerned, said. “Hoyt’s been real careful since he started buildin’ up his ring. Never stepped outta line enough to warrant a second look from the guards. This’s not like him.”

A cook from the Rudy Shack hustled up, wiping her wrinkled hands on a towel, her red face puffy with smiles. “Lady Lanth!” she crowed. “My cousin was at the Eaves! Missed the bet on your partner!”

She shrank down as everyone else perked up. Rin smashed his lips together and glanced at her, far too merry.

“Missed the bet?” someone asked.

“He was there ‘cause the trouble in the Kells brought ‘m over!” she crowed. “He met Lanth there. They all took bets, ‘bout who he was.”

She had everyone’s attention in the vicinity. Lapis knew a handful of faces, if that, and no one well. Why the interest?

“It’s Patch!” Heran shouted into the expectant air. The cook rounded on her, annoyed the urchin stole her glory, while everyone else gasped.

“Patch?” several asked, a disjointed chorus.

“My cousin said you’ve known him for eight years!” the cook said.

“We were street rats in Coriy together, we moved to Jiy together, we chase together.” Lapis shrugged as she felt the sharp sting of blush. She usually remained in the background, quiet, unnoticed, and she should have kept her mouth shut and stayed there. She rose, planting her hands firmly on the table to hop down from the stool. “And with that, I bid you all goodnight,” she told them.

Rin returned the trays as she made her way through the suddenly excited and question-oriented crowd. She had not quite made it to the startled rebel men before he caught her, chuckling under his breath. She kept her head bowed as they squeezed past, unwilling to bring even more attention to herself.

“Well, Lady, you’s sneakier ’n SOME people ‘round here,” he said, loud enough to carry to the four.

There were times, Lapis restrained herself from shaking sense into the rat. At least he made certain they would follow them, rather than remain at the market. If they chose a confrontation, she needed to quickly decide on what to say. Perhaps make it obvious she knew about their interest and found their stalking irritating?

The night cried harder, and the rain came down in sheets, splattering everything. Despite her gear, her pants and boots soaked up the water, and Rin did his best to keep her chaser bag as dry as possible. Patch paid to have it coated in a waterproof mixture, and it worked well enough, but she did not want the contents to dampen.

Patch. He had not taken a cloak or a hood, a jacket or a coat. The drops were cold, and while he behaved tough, he shivered as often as she. Would the push of anger keep him warm?

She heard footsteps. She whirled, raising her hand and triggering her blade.

Lars. Stupid Lars and his group, following them. For what purpose?

“What’s they wantin’?” Rin asked grumpily.

“You piss them off recently?”

“Not t’ my recollection.”

“And what might you want this fine night?” she asked as the small mischief froze, the rain bouncing off their heads in small splats that reflected the dim ambient light from the market. Lars eyed the blade resentfully, then glared at her. Hopefully it kept them from attacking; Rin dealt with enough danger, being in her company. He did not need to avoid a knife from wanna-be guttershanks.

“Heard Hoyt’s lookin’ fer you,” he said through gritted, stained teeth.

“Yeah, I heard that as well,” Lapis agreed. “And Patch’s a bit pissed about it.”

All five flinched. “Patch,” Lars spat.

“He isn’t thrilled Hoyt decided someone else is my partner and that he’s targeting me over it. And since we got caught up in the mess at the Kells, Hoyt’s really not on his friend’s list right now. If you’re planning to try and take me out to hand over to him, expect Patch to have a long and productive conversation as to why.”

“Lars,” one of the lackeys said.

Lars hissed at him. “You believes that?”

“Who brought it up in the night market? A cook whose cousin was at the Eaves when he showed up. You don’t have to believe it, but Patch won’t care one way or the other when he pays you a visit.”

One of the other lads grabbed Lars’s arm and hauled him away; he almost protested before he noticed the four rebels following them. Their presence caused them to skitter away, through the nearest alley, running fast enough to evade whatever danger they perceived.

Did they think the men were from Hoyt? That treading on her stake would prove ill?

The men paused, out of reach of her blade, though within striking distance if she threw one of her little knives. They looked just as miserable as the rats she just confronted, hunched over as rain pelted them, shivering slightly. She kept her weapon out while Rin took a step behind her.

“You’ve been asking after me all night,” she said, attempting an amiable tone. “I know more than you four were out and about. So what does Teivel want?” The name soured her spit.

They glanced at each other. Had they not decided on how to proceed? Had they not expected this confrontation?

“He doesn’t trust you,” one of them finally said. “He thinks it’s odd that Faelan does.”

“Oh, I’m certain he doesn’t,” she agreed. “I’m certain he can’t fathom what Patch and Faelan see in me that makes me a better confidant than him.” Two flinched. “Patch was very clear about who Faelan could trust once he reached Jiy, and I, as his partner, made the top of the list.”

“There are rumors,” another one told her, flicking a glance at Rin.

“There are always rumors,” Lapis growled.

“Relaine, she said you have black hair and purple eyes, just like Faelan. She said the resemblance is uncanny.”

Damn that woman to the bowls of the soul-cleansing volcano the religious always spouted about. “Did she now. I’m certain the look is rare enough to elicit that reaction among a certain subset of our mutual acquaintances. I wonder, does she believe Patch and Ciaran are related because they both sport blond hair and blue eyes?”

The group did not enjoy the mockery.

“We’re just here to talk,” the second said, jerking his chin at the blade. “You don’t need that.”

She laughed. “I’ve learned it’s a necessary precaution when dealing with certain merchant types in Jiy.” Not that they would understand the oblique reference to the explanation she used concerning her brother and his business associates, but she hardly cared. “Better prepared than dead.”

“We’re not the enemy,” the first snapped.

“No? Stalking has never seemed a friendly pastime to me.”

“We were simply trying to find you,” a third man said, his voice soothing, which irritated her. Who did he assume he spoke to?

“For what purpose? I have no business with Teivel or you.”

“There’s something . . . not . . .” The second rammed his fingers through his bangs, driving them from his eyes. “Faelan doesn’t trust many people, even on Patch’s say-so.”

“There’s a very good reason he doesn’t trust people,” she responded as her heart beat a painfully angry rhythm. “And he has the scars to remind him why.”

The men looked at each other, groping for a way to proceed. She had not played into whatever game they planned, and besides physically subduing her and carting her back to the House, they could not detain her long. Rin was squirrely enough to evade them and make it to the night market if they attacked, and the Eaves was not that far away. He could retrieve help before the men managed much more than an attack or two.

“Do you know Teivel from Coriy?” the second suddenly asked.

“No.” That was true. She knew him from Nicodem, as her brother’s best friend and, subsequently, traitor. “Why?”

“He thinks he knows you.”

Fear shot up her back. It would not be long before he chanced attacking her. “Does he, now. And why would that bring you around to my part of town, sniffing at my boot heels?”

They glared at her. Good.

“He wants to get reacquainted.”

Oh, she was certain he did. “Reacquainted, huh? He doesn’t trust me, but he wants to get reacquainted.” She exaggerated the shake of her head. “Unfortunately, I have work I must do. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a stake to complete with my apprentice and a nice, warm bed to return to before dawn. You might want to consider a warm bath and a warm bed as well—rain tends to bring the sniffles.”

She let the handle go, and the blade shot back into her gauntlet, a fast act, the shing of metal against metal resounding down the street. She turned and walked away, listening so hard she nearly forgot to breathe. Rin paused, studied them, then hastened to catch her step, willing to look back and make certain they did not follow.

“You’s quite the steady hand, Lady,” he told her. “I don’t think I coulda done that.”

“It takes practice, like everything else.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “We’re going to circle around, back to the roof, and keep watching. If they’re still paying attention, they’re going to think we entered the night market to see if our stake was there, and they’re going to assume we’re camped out waiting for said stake to leave.”

“We might be there ‘til dawn,” Rin grumbled.

“No, I plan to follow a random person away if Faelan doesn’t send someone after us first.”