“Right,” I say. We steel ourselves before leaping onto the roof of the storehouse and make our way across to where I hope the thieves have gone. I hope I made the right call and didn’t ruin this heist for Aris. He’s stern and gruff and could barely afford to keep me fed and clothed, but he tried. He didn’t abandon me to the pimps and the flesh peddlers after my mother died. He deserves this score, and so do I.
The building covers at least two blocks of the city, so it takes a while to reach the opposite alleyway, especially since we’re trying to minimize our chances of being seen by anyone else. We can’t bolt straight across, out in the open. Instead, we dash between huge brick chimneys, which slow us down some. I wipe the sweat from my brow and pray that my instincts led me the right way.
When we finally get there, I’m disappointed to find an empty alley.
“All right, so, maybe we can catch them at the dock,” Aris says without hesitation. He charges ahead, following the alley in the direction of the wharf.
Then we catch sight of them—four gray-cloaked men, carrying a huge gong barrel, approaching from our right. Relief floods through my limbs. I’d guessed well.
Aris smiles again. “My best girl never lets me down,” he says, through labored breaths. His face is flushed; sweat drips down the sides.
We crouch in the shadows and wait. I try to ignore the pain in my legs and stay focused on the task at hand. It’ll be far more difficult to follow the men if they decide to take the roundabout tree-lined path that leads to the wharf instead of continuing through town. If they go that way, and they most likely will, because there’s less risk of detection, there’s a high chance of losing them. That way is noisier—branches snap, rodents and small animals scatter—and Aris will never be able to move through the trees like I can. Or could, in the past, anyway. I’m not confident I can handle much more of this, either. No matter what Aris says about leaving him behind, if necessary, I need him; I can’t take four men alone.
We’ve got to take them now, while their backs are turned.
I look at Aris and nod. He understands. He glances in the direction of the road and nods in agreement.
I run and crouch near the edge of the building, behind a large chimney, and wait for the men to come up the road beneath us, just before the corner. When Aris doesn’t appear beside me, I look back to see him, one hand leaning on the brick wall, the other holding his chest. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavily. I hurry over to him and put his arm over my shoulder to help him walk.
“I told you,” he spits out between breaths, “don’t worry about me.”
“Fat chance, Aristotle.” I smile, pronouncing it the way our people do—Aris-Toh-Tell. Supposedly it means “the best of all, the best of us.” And perhaps he’s well named, because he could have turned his back on me, but instead he gave me a place to stay, he did the best he could and shared what little he had. I left for Madame Verona’s not only because I was sick of living that way, but also so I wouldn’t be his burden anymore.
He smiles at my use of his given name, his Ophir name, and nods, resigned. He lets go of me, leans forward, and then stands up and takes in a huge, deep breath.
The thieves are getting ahead of us.
I glance anxiously at the street, where I should be already if I want to launch a surprise attack, and then back to Aris.
“Cut them off that way,” he says. His voice is strained.
I run back to the edge of the building. Aris is right next to me. I wonder how long he’ll keep this up. But there isn’t much time to worry about it. The men have passed just ahead of us, and there are no more roofs to follow, just a large gap for the wide road between the west and east sides of town.
We’ll have to ambush the men before they get any farther, and before Aris and I lose any more strength.
“Now,” I say. Without waiting for Aris’s response, I jump down from above, landing first on a storage shed, and then the street. Even if the men hear, it’s too dark down there to see where I came from.
I hear Aris land right behind me with a grunt.
The men are directly in front of us. I see their backs, strained against their thin gray cloaks—did they honestly think those would fool a Blackcoat?—gong farmers are a ragged bunch and these thieves are massive, built more like gladiators than the lowest workers who collect waste from private and public outhouses.
I run, pushing through the pain in my ankle, and jump on the smallest one’s back. They all shout as I tackle the man and they drop the barrel. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aris take on the other three. The thief I’ve chosen falls heavily on the ground, but quickly turns and slashes the air with his blade. I guess the fellow plans to cut his way through me and I force myself not to flinch. I’ve spent the better part of my days seeing one man or another threaten me with sharpened steel so it doesn’t rattle me in the least. I’m faster than this fool, and I slip out of the way, but he whirls and catches me on the cheek with a punch from his free hand. Pain explodes across the right half of my face and I fall to one knee. He draws back the blade, readying for a swift strike, a killing blow that’s sure to be the end of me. I almost welcome that fate, a quick and clean death and an end to all this pain.
But the blow never lands.
The thief I’ve jumped on moves to strike, but impossibly, he’s knocked to the ground by someone else at the same time.
Someone who isnotwearing a gray cloak.
Blackcoat?I strain to see in the dark.
No, it’s not a Blackcoat, either. This stranger isn’t wearing a steel visor or armor.
Meanwhile, the mark I tackled scrambles up and tries to yank my leg out from under me, but I dodge his grasp and kick him in the face with as much strength as I can muster. The thief raises his sword again but the stranger who came from out of nowhere blocks the strike with his forearm. Metal rings against metal, as the stranger who’s saved me must be wearing some sort of armor beneath his sleeve. I roll to get out of the way but find myself blundering into two of the disguised gong farmers that I’m trying to escape. I scream out of desperation and skitter backward as the men trade blows.
I pull myself to my feet and stand next to Aris, ready to fight. The four thieves are standing against the barrel, surrounded by me, Aris, and two other men.
Strangers.
