“Do you think someone is going to try?”
“No,” Evander said quickly. “But it never hurts to be careful.”
“Good thing I never leave my room, then, huh?” Janus said.
Evander breathed a laugh and embraced Janus, allowing the hug to linger as he rocked her back and forth for a few seconds before reluctantly releasing her. Janus felt like a bird pushed from its nest when he stepped away.
Shouldering her bag, Janus danced down two steps and froze, glancing back at her brother. He watched her calmly, expression underlined with worry. Taking a deep breath, Janus turned away. The sooner she left, the sooner she would be home.
Piona’s towering stone gates revealed a stretch of desert road and the scattered homes along the city’s outskirts. Dozens of guards patrolled the walls, turbans flapping in the wind beneath their helmets. People from other countries gathered in vast numbers, their clothing distinct from the native Thuatians.
Janus stared at a mountain of a horse, with broad hooves and a thick neck. It pulled a thin metal wagon with a strange black tarp pulled tautly over top. An older man with auburn hair, dressed in a fluttering red suit, barked orders at his employees. Merchants from Dragos, accompanied by a Dragosi mountain-stepper. Janus’s mouth warbled as she watched the horse paw the dirt and swish its tail.
Her much smaller horse nuzzled the back of her head, wetting her hair with saliva. Making a face of disgust, Janus ran a hand over her tan and white paint horse, its body short yet broad.
What was the hold-up? Kalid had walked away to meet with their guide but had been gone a while. Glancing at her guards, Janus slipped away when their gazes fell elsewhere.
Pushing past the horde of carriages, Janus walked back inside the walls, turning to look up at the ancient gates—gorgeous structures, though she rarely got to see them. Pulling out her journal, she sketched the outline of the ancient walls and the statue of Yesharu, the god of time, who stood guard over the southern exit.
She marveled at the sheer scope of the statue, carved centuries ago. So many tiny details were engraved in the great sundial he clutched.
Something brushed against her. Looking around, she noticed someone running away from her before realizing her purse was gone. Patting her belt, she cursed and chased after the pickpocket.
Pushing through a family, Janus caught sight of the thief several paces ahead, a raggedly clothed young man. He was far faster than she was. Within a few seconds, the distance between them grew as he dashed deeper into the city.
A man in a light blue coat stepped from a shop’s awning into the thief’s path. Deftly grabbing the young man’s arm, he quickly restrained him, twisting his arm behind his back.
Relieved, Janus caught up as her savior wrenched the bag from the pickpocket. Holding up the purse, he flashed her a smile.
Oh. He was rather more attractive than she expected. Sharp featured, freckles scattered across his high cheekbones, rising to meethis rich purple eyes. Bright and radiant, his irises glowed, broken up only by a barely visible pupil. He was cefran.
“This yours?” An elegant accent touched his words. He tossed the bag to Janus.
“Thank you.” She gasped, out of breath.
“And what of this one?” He turned the thief around.
Janus clutched her bag to her chest, taking in the thief’s young features. He could only be about fourteen. “Let him go.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Releasing the pickpocket, he watched as the kid scrambled to escape. “That’s kind of you. If naive.”
“I just don’t have time.” Janus caught her breath, hooking her purse to her belt. “That was impressive. Are you a. . .” She cocked her head, trying to size him up. He looked far too rich and well-dressed to be a soldier.
“I’m from Sigilus.” He said, amused. “Pickpockets are a dime a dozen, there. Catching them is an innate skill we all have.” He glanced past her. “I’m late for an appointment, but I suspect you’re my client.”
Spinning around, Janus saw Kalid running toward her, mail clinking with every step. “My lady.” He called. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” Brow wrinkled, Janus looked between the men. “Is this who you were looking for?”
“Yes.” Kalid bowed his head.
The other man nodded politely. “Forgive my lateness. It’s an honor to meet you, my lady. Talon’s the name.” He winked, striding past her to join Kalid.
Janus had imagined someone quite different when Kalid mentioned a guide. An old man, or an eccentric woman, not. . .
