The six elements are not confined to the ?ther. At any time and any place, amounts can leak into the natural realm, spurred on by both high pressure and volatility. However, once elemental ?ther enters the natural realm, it ceases to exist in its original form and instead attaches itself to any matter at the location of the leak, altering it to a new form. This process is known as transmogrification.

  Excerpt from 'Introduction to the Workings of Magic'

  Felt stared at the wooden beam above her, trying to count the grains. Anything to keep herself busy so she could avoid thinking about the situation she was in.

  When she had first been captured, her emotions had been all over the place: sadness, anger, even hatred aimed at the ones who had driven her into this mess, but those emotions had all vanished. She felt only a still calmness now as she lay here on a thin mattress in one of the Stockade's tiny cells.

  She was done, that much she knew. Even if they believed her story, they would still have more than enough reason to lock her up for the rest of her life. Yet she didn't regret it.

  Her mind went over what happened that evening a hundred times but found nothing wrong in her actions. She had simply been outmatched from the moment she found Madilla as someone who could help Cassie. Since then she had been a mere pebble tossed into a raging river. Doomed to be thrown around for a while until eventually sinking to the bottom.

  It could only end this way, Felt thought. A lowly thief from the poorest district in the city whose only luck in life was a better-than-average channelling strength.

  The only regret she had was that she would never see Cassie again. Ven, her interrogator, had informed her that Madilla had taken Cassie with her and they had both vanished afterwards.

  Felt knew that meant Cassie was either dead or under the care of Hyna in a faraway place. Regardless of which of the two it was, it meant that Cassie no longer needed Felt. But this was small consolation for the sense of loss that gripped her chest.

  The soft jingling of a chain of keys reached Felt's ears, followed by the distinct sound of someone trying to turn the lock of the cell door with the wrong key.

  Someone at the door? Another interrogation?

  She sat up on her bunk and tried to see who it was, but the narrow peephole in the door revealed no-one.

  That's odd. The jailer was a tall and gangly man, and whenever he opened the door he was clearly visible through the hole.

  Another key was tried in the lock and again failed to turn. Whoever was on the other side, it wasn't the jailer; he never used the wrong key.

  “Who is there?” Felt asked, her voice still hoarse from all the talking she had done over the past few days.

  “Please be quiet, Felt,” a voice answered. “I'm here to get you out.”

  Felt shot up from her bunk. That voice. I know that voice.

  “Hans? Is that you?”

  “Hush now.”

  With a loud click the door finally unlocked and revealed the short, brown-haired man Felt remembered. The only difference was that he was older now, with tufts of grey hair showing around his ears.

  Hans slipped into the cell and closed the door behind him. “Lay down on the bunk. We have little time before the jailer returns.”

  Get me out? His sudden appearance left her in complete bewilderment and she sat back down on the edge of her bunk with her mouth slightly agape.

  “I don't understand—” she started.

  Hans grabbed her shoulder and pushed her into a lying position on the bunk. “No time, as I said. Now hold still and pretend you are asleep.” Felt noticed he held a runestone in his other hand.

  Too surprised to protest, she did as Hans asked. She lay still and watched as he placed the runestone on her stomach.

  “Close your eyes,” Hans commanded. The urgency was clear from his voice and she noted how tense he looked.

  She did as she was told, and a moment later felt the drag of ?ther flowing past her stomach.

  “Okay, that's it,” Hans said. “Let's go.”

  Go? Go where?

  Hans opened the cell door and threw a glance down the corridor.

  Am I dreaming? Felt thought, as she wrestled with her boots.

  When she got up from her bunk and joined Hans at the door, he looked past her towards the bunk. “That looks good.”

  Felt turned around to see what he was looking at and gasped. On her bunk, she saw an image of herself sleeping.

  “It's just an illusion,” Hans said. “It won't last long, but long enough for you to get out of here.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  It became clear to her that Hans wasn't here on official Whisper business. He was here to help her escape or, at the very least, take her to a place that wasn't the Stockade.

  Why is he doing this?

  She didn't voice the question, however, as her mind suddenly filled with the thought of escape. The feeling of calm acceptance she had felt earlier had been washed away and replaced with her usual sense of rebellious defiance.

  Hans locked the cell door behind them and stood on his toes to look through the peephole. He nodded. “Yes, that will work.” He beckoned Felt to follow him.

  They moved down the corridor towards the jailer's quarters and Felt briefly worried that he was leading her into some kind of trap. The jailer's room was empty, however.

  Hans noticed her looking around the chamber. “He isn't here. I arranged for him to be gone from here for a short while.”

  “You did?” Felt asked. The jailer had not struck her as someone who would forsake his duty for anything. The suspicion she felt made its way into her voice, causing Hans to halt for a moment.

  “The pack-master always said that every man has their personal vices,” Hans said. “It's just a matter of finding out what they are to be able to use them.” A brief smile crossed his face. “I just found his.”

  Our pack-master did say that. She simply nodded at Hans in response and he resumed his pace.

  Felt had no idea where they were going. Every time they turned a corner, she was afraid that someone would be there. Yet they did not run into anyone, which struck Felt as odd. The few times she had walked these corridors before, there had always been several people around.

  “Where is everyone?” she whispered to Hans.

  “Asleep,” Hans said. “It's just past midnight.”

  Stupid, Felt thought. I haven't seen daylight in days. How would I know what time it is?

  They passed another corner when a voice suddenly came from behind. “You are up late, Hans.”

  Hans froze mid-step, almost causing Felt to collide with him.

  From the expression on Hans' face she could tell that things had just taken a turn for the worse. It was only a flicker that disappeared before he fully turned to face the person who spoke, but she noticed.

  “Yes, gabron,” Hans said. “A late interrogation for our prisoner here.”

  Gabron? Did he say gabron!? As in a grandmaster? Felt could feel a chill run down her spine. In a place like this, there was only one person that would be addressed like that.

  She turned around too and found herself looking down upon a small elderly man dressed as if he had just finished a shift at the workshop. He was even smaller than Hans, who was short of stature himself, and looked like nothing more than a harmless old man with wild grey hair in a sharp widow's peak.

  But her intuition was screaming. Felt had been part of the darker half of society since she was small, and for a young girl being able to tell who was dangerous and who was not was a life-saving skill. It was that same skill that told her this man was very dangerous; the aura of presence that hung around him was almost suffocating.

  The grandmaster coughed into his hand. “A late interrogation, you say? Why isn't Ven taking care of that?”

  Panic was taking hold of Felt as she stared at the floor to avoid the grandmaster's gaze.

  This is the worst person we could run into. Now we will be found out and Hans will be thrown into jail as well. She peeked sideways at Hans. You should have just left me in my cell.

  “Ven is sleeping, gabron,” Hans replied. “Kell ordered him to get some rest.”

  “Ah yes,” the grandmaster said. “He really has been putting in the time lately, hasn't he?”

  “He has.”

  When trying to avoid suspicion, never remain silent but give brief answers only, Felt thought, noting that Hans was following their old pack-master's advice closely.

  “Why are you so afraid, girl?” the grandmaster asked, turning to Felt.

  The panic that had been gnawing at the base of her skull immediately swallowed her mind whole. He noticed! He knows something is wrong. She kept staring at the floor as she desperately cast about for something to say.

  “I'm tired,” she eventually blurted out. It didn't make much sense as an answer, but she was unable to come up with anything else.

  “Who isn't at this hour?” the grandmaster replied. “But that doesn't answer my question.”

  This time Felt did not respond. Frantic thoughts were tumbling through her head. Maybe I should run? Yes. I should try to flee. If I try to run away now it will create a diversion for Hans to undo the illusion back at the cell. Nobody will suspect him.

  She looked up and stared the grandmaster straight in the eyes.

  No matter how impressive his aura, he is still a small old man.

  It would be easy for her to topple him and make a run for it. The entire Stockade would be brought down upon her a moment later, but that was just what she wanted. Hans will know what to do. At the very least he will be—

  Hans grabbed hold of her arm and gripped it tightly.

  She jerked her head around to look at him. What are you doing?! her eyes said. Let go!

  “She is tired, gabron,” Hans said, ignoring her silent plea. “We've been keeping her awake for a while now.” He looked at her with a hint of pity. “I'm pretty sure she'd be ready to jump at her own shadow by now.”

  “That I can see,” the grandmaster said. “I shall leave it in your hands, then.”

  “Good night, gabron,” Hans said, bowing his head.

  The grandmaster turned and began to walk away when he suddenly stopped and turned back.

  “Just one more thing, Hans,” he said. “Could you come by my chambers after you have taken her to the interrogation room? I have a task I feel you are well suited for.”

  “As you wish, gabron,” Hans said, and he bowed again.

  “Alright, I will see you in a moment then.” With that, the grandmaster left.

  Felt slowly began to calm down as she reflected upon the unexpected outcome. The Hans she knew from her past would never have been able to keep his composure under so much pressure. He had anticipated her reaction better then she had his.

  “How did you know that I was going to run?” Felt asked, after they resumed their walk.

  “You had that look on your face you always get when you are about to do something dangerous,” Hans said. “The last time I saw it was when you were about to sneak into the Crag to find Paglina.” He let out a brief laugh. “Funny how back then that seemed like such a dangerous thing.”

  Paglina... I remember that. A memory from another lifetime. “She's dead, you know.” Felt said.

  Hans expression shifted. “I know. Raped and murdered. Her corpse was dumped in the river and fished up from the ocean by a crab-fisher.”

  Does he have to be so blunt about that? Felt thought. She was one of us as well.

  “They did discover who killed her though,” Felt added. “Their end was even more horrifying than hers, I heard. The community of River's End doesn't look kindly upon rapists.”

  “I know that as well,” Hans said, maintaining a stern expression. “I'm the one who found out who they were and dropped their names into the rumour mill.”

  Felt's eyes grew large. “You did that?”

  Hans nodded. “The bonds of a rat pack are not easily forgotten. Once a rat, always a rat.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Our pack-master always said that to remind us that we would be dependent on the pack for the rest of our lives.”

  Hans nodded again. “He did. But I prefer my own interpretation.”

  Felt was silent for a moment, considering his words. “Is that why you are helping me?”

  “Yes,” Hans said without hesitation. “That and the fact that they were going to turn you over to Callium for further interrogation.”

  That certainly explains some things.

  A future as a prisoner of the Crown would be bad, but nothing compared with what those creeps at Callium would do to a young woman like her. She had seen their callous handiwork more times than she cared to remember.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Oh,” she said simply.

  “We're here,” Hans said as he opened a door and showed her inside.

  The room was cramped and filled with many crates and shelves. “A storage room?” Felt asked.

  “There is a trapdoor that leads into a garbage tunnel. It exits somewhere in the sewers.” Hans shoved a crate aside, revealing a hatch.

  “Garbage tunnel, huh?”

  “Don't worry. It's only rarely used.” Hans smirked. “Didn't you used to do this all the time?”

  “Crawl through garbage? I did, but I developed a sense of smell over the years.”

  Hans flashed a smile at her before opening the hatch and for a moment it felt like old times. But only for a moment.

  Felt stared into the narrow tunnel that led away from the hatch.

  Great, a dark hole. As if I haven't dove into those enough already. She squatted down at the edge. At least this one seems wide enough.

  “Do you have a sun sigil for me, or will I have to crawl through the dark?” Felt asked.

  “I do, and something more important as well.” His hand disappeared into his tunic and retrieved two runestones, both with a long string attached to them. One was indeed a standard sun sigil, and she took it from him to inscribe the appropriate sigil.

  “What does the other one do?” Felt asked.

  “This one will get you past the warning sigils.”

  “They set up warning sigils in the sewer?”

  She wanted to add that she found that rather excessive, before she realized that her presence here validated their existence.

  “They aren't there for people getting out; it's more the worry of people getting in.”

  She twitched her nose. “Why would anyone want to break into the Stockade?”

  Hans waved her question away. “Regardless of why, you need to cast the spell just before you exit the tunnel and keep it active for as long as you are in the sewers. It's not a sigil stone as the spell is rank seventeen. So don't linger lest you grow tired of channelling.”

  “Which elements does it use?” she asked as she accepted the runestone from him.

  “Balance dyad, so that's Wonder and Entropy,” he said, looking confused. “Since when does that matter to you? Did you sacrifice some channels to fortify?”

  “No, I was just curious.”

  Felt tied both stones around her neck, wearing them like necklaces.

  “In you go, then,” Hans said as he held the hatch open for her.

  She hesitated.

  In the back of her mind, her intuition was warning her, fuelling her suspicions. The feeling had been with her ever since Hans appeared in her cell, and now that she was only a single step away from freedom, it had grown much stronger.

  Looking back on her escape, it was all too sudden, too convenient. It wasn't so much that she didn't believe Hans, yet something wasn't quite right.

  “Hans...” she started.

  He looked at her expectantly. “Yes?”

  “You are really trying to help me with this, right?”

  “Of course I am,” he answered without hesitation. “I wouldn't be doing all this if I wasn't certain it would help you.”

  He's telling the truth, I can tell. So why do I feel uncertain?

  She narrowed her eyes a bit. “But aren't you going to get in trouble with this? I mean, the grandmaster didn't seem entirely convinced. What if he suspects something is wrong? What if that is the reason he asked you to go to his quarters?”

  “Then we both will be caught,” Hans said.

  The simplicity of his answer made her feel silly. Here he was risking himself to help her escape, and she was speculating about what-ifs rather than getting the blaze out of here.

  It's because of who he used to be, Felt realized. A clumsy boy who always screwed things up so they just kept him as a lookout all the time.

  But that was a lifetime ago. Now this entire escape was just a job to him. One where you did the best you could, and if you failed, then so be it. There was always a next time, and if there wasn't you wouldn't be in a position to care about it anyway.

  Determined now, she climbed down into the tunnel and braced herself against the edges. It was steep and she wasn't planning on falling down all the way to the bottom.

  “Thanks,” she said as she looked at Hans' face for the last time.

  He didn't say anything but flashed a smile at her as he closed the hatch.

  With nothing but the dim light of the sun sigil to keep her company, she waited as she listened to the sounds above her. Wood sheared over wood as a crate was pulled back in place. Then footsteps, a door opening and closing, and eventually silence.

  She was alone again.

  The smell from the sewer below invaded her nose, refusing to be ignored any longer.

  Ugh. This is going to be unpleasant.

  The descent wasn't as risky as she had feared. The walls offered plenty of footing and weren't slippery as was usually the case with tunnels like these. The incline of the tunnel also started to flatten early, allowing her to crawl through the rest of it.

  The stench thickened at the end of the tunnel and Felt began to channel ?ther in the runestone to allow her to avoid the warning sigils.

  Like Hans had said, the stone used up quite a bit of ?ther, but it was nothing she couldn't handle for a while. With one hand around the stone and the other around the edge of the tunnel exit, she stepped into the sewer.

  The air was thick and breathing came with some difficulty. There would be few if any air ducts in this part of the sewers, so speed was of the essence.

  If I pass out down here, I'm done for. She tentatively stepped forward, testing the slick stones that made up the floor here. It was as slippery as she expected. The spring rains were still weeks away from being finished, after all.

  Do I go left or right? She cursed softly. I should have asked Hans.

  Shining her light more closely on the trench where the city's filth was rushing through, she noted that it was moving to her right. It flows towards the ocean, so that's probably south.

  One of the two barracks of the city watch was located south of the Stockade, and while the guards wouldn't be anywhere near the sewers, she considered it more prudent not to push her luck in that regard.

  Left it is then.

  She had already walked a considerable distance through the darkness when she noticed that the air quality was improving. Hopeful, she accelerated her pace and was rewarded by the sight of a stairway leading upwards.

  Thank the ?ther. This place makes me feel sick to my stomach.

  She stumbled up the stairway, almost falling down in her excitement. At the top she was greeted by a clear star-filled night, a breeze of fresh air, and a steel gate that was dutifully locked.

  Krat! she thought as she angrily shook the gate. Why does it have to be locked?!

  Normally such a thing would not be a problem for her, not with her regular equipment.

  Unfortunately, that equipment was currently stored in some corner of the Stockade or perhaps even in the Winged Keep above.

  She looked around to see if there was something she could use as a lock pick before realizing that it wouldn't matter. With one hand occupied with keeping her from being detected by warning sigils, she couldn't improvise a pick even if she wanted to, and there were bound to be some warning sigils present here.

  Frustrated, she gave the gate another shake before descending the stairs.

  The next one then. If she kept to her left, she would eventually reach the Lacine and the entrances there wouldn't even have gates to begin with—that she knew for certain.

  The next stairway she found was the same as the first, with an uncaring steel gate barring her freedom. Felt bristled and cursed in silence at the gate. I should have known that they would all be locked. This is the Royal Quarter after all, not River's End.

  Again she went back into the sewer and kept moving onward, crossing minor trenches, kicking away the ever-present rats, and fighting her growing uncertainty.

  There were no more exits on her path. She was starting to wonder how much further she would have to walk when something caught her eye. A streak of white on the drab brick wall next to her.

  What's that?

  She leaned in closer. It was a symbol of some sort. Clearly visible to anyone who shone a light in here.

  It depicted a circle with a horizontal line on top of it and another one going right through the centre.

  Oh, that's just great, Felt thought as she recognized it. The symbol was a gang sign that signalled that she was about to enter the territory of the Lak gang, better known in River's End as 'those filthy sewer rats'.

  Gangs were a common sight in the poorer districts of the city. They were mostly made up of young men who lacked the ability to channel ?ther. The so-called zero tiers. When they weren't busy being footmen for the more organized crime syndicates, they waged petty wars against each other, fighting over territory each claimed was theirs.

  The Lak gang, however, was a bit different. At some point they had decided to make the sewers their home, and over the years had claimed absolute dominion over large stretches.

  Felt had heard it told that it had reached the point that if city workers needed to be down here, the city had to pay Lak for the privilege of guiding them lest they got 'lost'.

  It was pure blackmail of course, and the only reason they were allowed to keep doing this was because they weren't enough of a nuisance to send the city watch to clean them out.

  Furthermore, the Lak gang was clever enough to stay away from the sewers beneath the richer parts of the city, and thus the balance was maintained.

  Did their territory extend this far? Or am I closer to River's End than I thought?

  She twitched her nose as she continued to stare at the symbol. It seems I've spent all my luck already.

  Her worry was justified as the Lak gang contained the lowest of the lowest, the real scum of the city. Anyone who couldn't show his face in the city anymore, yet couldn't leave for some reason, ended up here. There wasn't a single woman in Lak and with good reason. If any of their members found Felt here, she would suffer the same horrible end Paglina had years ago.

  Felt placed her hand on the sign, tracing the lines with her finger, wondering what to do next. The safest thing would be to go back the entire way and move onward to the south until she reached the ocean.

  Unfortunately, she was running out of time. Her caution had forced her to keep the runestone in her hand active, and she had been switching it between hands for a while now. Even so, both of her arms had begun throbbing in an unpleasant manner.

  I can't keep this up much longer. Either I go through Lak territory, or go back to one of the locked exits and set off a warning sigil there.

  The second option would be the safest by far, but she shook her head. No, I can't do that. If I get caught like that then what Hans did for me will be pointless. I already came this far and I'd rather face Lak than Callium. At least they don't pretend to be something they're not.

  Determined, she resumed her course. At the very least, any exit she found next would definitely not be locked.

  Felt kept both her spells active as she ventured deeper into Lak's territory. There were many rumours about the Lak gang, one of the most persistent being that the few channellers they had could see in the dark. Considering their chosen place of dwelling, that particular rumour was likely to be true. Without her own light she would be at too great a disadvantage. She hoped that the spell that shielded her from the Whisper's warning sigils would do the same for ones set up by the gang. She stumbled upon a large intersection and halted. Thirst was chafing her throat and both her arms felt as if they were burning now.

  She released the stone, letting it dangle freely around her neck, and stretched out her arms. While she probably could go on a bit longer, she had reached the point where the risk of permanent damage to her arms was becoming a real possibility.

  I can only hope that the Lak aren't paranoid enough to set up warning sigils everywhere.

  “There's our little mouse,” came a deep male voice from somewhere on Felt's left.

  “Told ya they'd come by here,” another voice added.

  Felt froze. So much for hoping.

  She could vaguely make out two figures that appeared from the left tunnel, revealing themselves to be two shabbily dressed men. One was heavily built with long hair so thick with filth it looked like a helmet. The other was scrawny with short hair and a limp. They weren't winded or breathing heavily. It looked like they were waiting for her to arrive.

  I tripped a warning sigil, Felt realized. It was probably too much to ask that this spell would work against their warning sigils as well.

  To her own amazement, she wasn't as frightened as she thought she would be. Maybe it was because of her recent experiences, or because she recognized them immediately for what they were. Petty thugs. Knowing that didn't make them any less dangerous, but at least she knew how to deal with them.

  Running is pointless, so I have to bluff my way past them.

  She stood up straight, making herself appear taller. “Finally,” she said, her coarse voice firm. “I was wondering how long I had to trawl through this rat-infested place.”

  “It's a woman. How lucky!” the scrawny man said, licking his lips in obvious delight.

  They halted on the other side of the sewage drain, leering at her. It was a distance that could be jumped easily. The limping one had a large hooked pole with him.

  Ideal for sifting through sewage or tripping someone trying to run away.

  “You guys are from the Lak gang, right?” she said. “I need you to take me somewhere.”

  “And why would we do that, little mouse?” the large man asked.

  “Oh, we will take you somewhere alright,” the scrawny man added, laughing in an unsettling manner.

  “Because if you don't I will torch you two where you stand and find someone who isn't a stupid lump.” She grasped the stone around her neck and turned her other hand upwards with her palm facing them.

  The scrawny man laughed again. “I like to play with fire too.” He swung the pole towards her but the large man stopped him.

  “Wait.”

  He narrowed his eyes as he glared at Felt. “Who are you, little mouse?”

  “Oh, good to see at least one of you has a brain. I'm Magistra Adillia from the Daughters of Ashira. I'm here because I need to speak with one of your members.”

  The large man looked sceptical. “Really?”

  Keep at it. Don't give them time to think about it. “Yes, really,” Felt snapped. “I need to speak to Gosto. Or Magan. Or whatever the blaze he's calling himself here.”

  Dropping that name gave Felt the effect she wanted, as both men glanced at each other.

  Gosto was a notorious scam artist who a couple of years ago pulled one off on the wrong person. He was believed to have fled the city afterwards, yet Felt knew that he hadn't. Instead, he had set up inside the relative safety of the sewers with only a few people being aware of this. The two men in front of her were now surely wondering how she could know Gosto unless she really was here to see him.

  “You really a magistra?” the large man asked.

  “I'm not here to answer your damn questions,” Felt bristled. “You are here to answer mine. Can you take me to Gosto or not?”

  “She did come from the right way,” the scrawny man said.

  The large man was still doubting her story and Felt knew it was him who needed to be convinced. The other one would follow his lead.

  “Show us some magic then,” the large man demanded.

  Felt expected that question. If she really was a magistra, she should be able to use magic to prove it to them. Fortunately, thugs like these wouldn't know the distinction between weaving and casting. To them, magic was magic.

  She reached up to her neck and dispelled her light rune. In the dark she waited for a moment with nothing but the sound of moving water and the rasping breathing of the two men to keep her company.

  When she lit up the rune again, she saw that the scrawny man was aiming his pole at her.

  “What were you planning on doing with that?” Felt said with venom in her voice.

  The man quickly retracted the pole, while Felt glowered at him.

  “Alright,” the large man said. “I can take you, but why do you need to see Gosto?”

  “That's not for you to know,” Felt snapped. “All you need to know is that I've been in this shithole way too long already.”

  The anger in her voice was real. All the frustration she had felt the past few days was being released. “Gosto told me that the scouts would pick me up right away. Well, you certainly took your sweet time.”

  “Then why come through the sewers?” the large man asked.

  He's not entirely stupid I see, Felt thought, yet she knew what to say.

  “Because it's a secret meeting and I'm not supposed to be here. Also, I can't come in through another entrance because we declared a vendetta, or didn't you hear? The Royal Guard is all over the place watching everything and everyone.”

  The large man did not respond. He was thinking. Weighing the potential repercussions of not believing her against helping himself to the pleasure of rape.

  Eventually, the first choice won. “Alright. We can take you to him,” the large man said. The scrawny man let out a disappointed grunt in response.

  Felt's expression of righteous anger did not change despite the relief she felt. Thank the ?ther they're buying it. For now at least. She gestured to them to lead the way. “Start moving. You will be walking in front of me.”

  Both men started to move without making a sound, and faster than she had expected. Even the guy with the limp had little trouble keeping the pace, dragging his pole behind him.

  It didn't take long until what Felt was looking for appeared. Another exit stairway.

  Both men stopped next to it and the large man looked up. Felt couldn't see very well as she was standing a good distance behind them, but he was moving his fingers in an irregular manner.

  He's signalling someone, she instantly realized.

  It seemed the large man wasn't convinced after all. The moment she passed by that stairway, one or more guys would jump her. Then she would either kill them as a magistra would or be caught like a woman pretending to be one.

  Either way, it would be safe for the men that had found her as they would just claim ignorance; they would beg her not to kill them in the first case and help themselves to her in the other.

  They couldn't care less about the risk they are putting the guy that's supposed to grab me in. Truly the lowest of the lowest.

  The two men resumed their walk, looking back to see if she was following. She did, but halted just short of the stairs.

  “Does this lead outside?” she asked.

  “It does,” the large man answered.

  “I'm going up for a moment to see where I am,” she said, “and to get some fresh air. I can't take this stench anymore.” The disgust she showed on her face was genuine.

  “We'll wait here,” the large man said.

  With that, Felt knew for certain that there was someone waiting in the stairway. They would never have let her go up by herself otherwise.

  It's probably a watchman keeping an eye on the entrances they use. So there should only be one person there.

  If her reasoning turned out to be wrong and several men were waiting for her, then she was finished. No other choice remained, so she turned the corner.

  A pale man immediately accosted her, reaching down to grab her by the shoulders.

  She barely saw him, looking to see if there was anyone else present on the stairs.

  There was not.

  Experiencing a surge of confidence, Felt grabbed hold of the man's tunic and threw him over her head into the tunnel behind her.

  He sailed over her shoulders easily and landed on his back with a yelp, his legs splashing into the sewage drain.

  Felt didn't stay to watch it happen. She raced up the stairway, ignoring the shouts behind her.

  At the top, nothing but open space greeted her. There was no gate here and she rushed up to the street, and from there into the first alley she saw.

  Her shadow danced on the nearby walls as the sun sigil swung around her neck. She grabbed hold of it before dispelling the light.

  Several streets and alleys later, she found a dark yard to hide in and squatted behind a barrel, trying to muffle her heavy breathing and looking out for any pursuers.

  There were none. Nor did any appear after she had waited for some time. The Nightsinger remained silent as well and Felt relaxed her body.

  That was too close.

  She looked around to see exactly where she was. The nearby area wasn't familiar, but the large building she could see in the distance was. There's the Crag. She had come farther north than she had expected.

  After taking another deep breath, the smell of sewage reminded her that she wasn't done yet. I need a place to hide for the rest of the night. And to bathe as well.

  One thing was certain: she could never wear these clothes again.

  With disgust on her face, she shook her arms as the burning sensation in them lingered.

  There were several places she could hide and she needed the safest one. Going back to her own room was out of the question: they would look for her there first. She mentally reviewed the list of people she could trust to hide her. People that owed her for something or other or even an old lover or two who would be desperate to get into her good graces again.

  Having people in debt pays even if they do not. Another one of her old pack-master's more cryptic sayings. The man may have been a scumbag, but he knew his trade and had taught them all very well.

  I owe a debt now as well, Felt thought. I hope Hans will be alright.

  She rose from her hiding place and started to walk towards the Crag. First I'll lay low for a while, and once the worst has passed, I'm going to find out what happened to Cassie. Those Hyna bastards better not think they can keep her from me.