try. Instead, I snatched an instant of silent pleading to whatever forces governed the fates of dashing sneak thieves.
Something soft! Something soft! Something…
I fell — onto a second rooftop. It could only have been a short distance; just enough to slam out what little breath I'd managed to recover. This roof was even steeper. I picked up speed. The world was a flurry of tiles and ruddy sky, whipping about my head. I scrunched my eyes. I didn't need to see whatever came next.
I knew when I left the second rooftop that it wasn't another small drop. I knew because I had time enough to realise I was falling. Then I hit something. It wasn't exactly soft. Nor could it take my weight. I'd barely registered the sound of tearing cloth before I struck the ground.
The ground was definitely not soft.
Yet neither had it smashed every bone in my body. Once again, it seemed the universe wanted me alive.
Of course. It couldn't very well torment me if I was dead.
I opened my eyes, took a moment to compensate for my surroundings not spinning. I'd come to rest in another market street, shabbier than the one I'd left. Before me stood the remnants of a small, canopied stand. Half of it was more or less intact, though most of the fruit once exhibited on stacks of crates was now displayed in the road instead. The other half was smashed to rags and firewood.
The stall keeper — who happened, thankfully, to have been inhabiting the undemolished portion — was staring down at me, his eyes huge with shock. With one hand, he made a fluttering gesture that took in the explosion of produce pulped into the cobbles.
My eyes roved up, to the edge of the building I'd plummeted from. I'd covered a respectable distance. But it was more than idle curiosity guiding my gaze; I wouldn't put it past Synza to descend more carefully, hoping for a vantage point and another shot at my life.
No… no assassins. Only a few cracked tiles to mark the point of my departure. I wobbled to my feet. Shakily, I took out an onyx, slipped it into his palm.
'That should cover it,' I managed.
This was becoming a habit I could ill afford. If I kept falling through things at this rate, I'd be bankrupt in days, not weeks. He looked at the coin, looked at the damage, performed a few swift mental calculations. 'Just about.'
'Well then.' I teetered, managed with considerable effort to stay on my feet. My mouth felt bloated and tasted of blood. 'Could you point me to the Fourth Orphan?'
He considered, pointed downhill. 'Second left onto White Flag Way, then the first right. Follow Longditch.'
'Thanks. Pleasure doing business.'
I reeled away, before he could decide he was being entirely too cordial to someone who'd just annihilated his livelihood. Through the fog of pain and disorientation, I tried to make sense of the last few minutes. Might Synza have waited in Aspira Nero on the chance we'd pass through? Then again, I'd hardly been covering my tracks since Casta Canto. It wouldn't have taken a skilled tracker to follow my trail; anyone asking the right questions in the right places could have managed it.
That being the case, I had to assume he knew where I'd be heading now. He might even be moving to cut me off. Perhaps that should have changed my plans, but I was too battered and fuddled to formulate any sort of plan. If I was to survive another night, I could think of only one solution. It was indescribably unappealing — but marginally better than letting Synza bury a knife in my throat.
I'd followed the stall keeper's directions without any conscious attention. Ahead of me was the Fourth Orphan. Though the crowds were thinning with the press of evening, there was still a fair amount of traffic past its entrance. Even if Synza was on my tail, I had to hope that would protect me. I lurched through the throng, across the yard and inside — all without being murdered. Steadying myself against the door frame, I called to the serving girl, 'The man I came in with earlier… is he here?'
'He's taken a room upstairs. Third from the stairs.' Her eyes stayed on me. Bruised, dripping with the detritus of smashed fruit, I must have made quite a sight. 'Do you need me to call a guard?'
'Just an accident,' I told her. 'More my fault than his. Should have thought about where I was going.'
That at least was true.
She didn't look entirely convinced, though. Fortunately, a patron at the far end of the bar chose that moment to call for wine, and I took the opportunity to limp upstairs. I made my way to the door she'd identified, rapped three times.
It took Alvantes a while to open up. When he did, it was with an expression of caution that, recognising me, he changed rapidly to disgust. 'I didn't think you'd dare return.' Then, registering my appearance, his eyes narrowed. 'What in the Hells have you been up to?'
'Alvantes… it's Synza. I know you know the name. Mounteban sent him after me, and he's been on my tail ever since Altapasaeda. I thought I'd lost him…'
Alvantes's blow was so sudden, so unexpected, that it carried me off my feet. It was all I could do to stop myself tumbling over the balcony. Instinct made me tense for another attack. Only when seconds had passed and none came did I dare look up.
Alvantes hadn't moved from his spot. His fist hung tensed at his side.
'You bastard,' I mumbled, massaging my jaw, 'what was that for?'
'All this time — you put us all in danger. You put Marina in danger. You'd have led a killer to the King's very door if he'd let you. Why didn't you tell me this straight away?'
I hoisted myself to my feet, keeping a careful distance from Alvantes's still-clenched hand. 'Because you wouldn't have done a thing. In fact, you'd have probably left me somewhere for him to find, with a note thanking him for all his hard work.'
'You damned fool,' he said. 'Is that what you believe?'
It wasn't, of course. However much Alvantes disliked me, I knew he hated a career killer like Synza more. 'All right. What could you have done? How exactly would you have protected me?'
Alvantes's expression changed, the anger ebbing abruptly. 'Get inside, Damasco.'
I did as instructed — though warily. The room was spare, the only furnishings a narrow bed, a small chest and a single chair. I sank into it, almost sobbing as my battered muscles relaxed. 'You didn't answer my question,' I said.
'You're right. There probably wasn't anything I could have done. Synza's not just some twelfth-onyx thug. There were a dozen murders in Altapasaeda I suspected him of, but I could never find one shred of evidence.'
'If you're trying to make me feel better, it's not working.'
'I couldn't care less how you feel.' Alvantes massaged the bridge of his nose furiously, sank onto the end of the bed. 'As if things weren't bad enough.'
'Cut a long story short. If you've no intention of helping me, just say it.'
'Of course I'll help you. Whatever's between you and me, I keep my promises. I told Marina I'd look after you and I will. Damn it, though,' he added, a new note of tension entering his voice, 'if only you knew how you've forced my hand.'
Before I could even think to ask what he meant, Alvantes was back on his feet and pacing to the door.
'Wait,' I cried. 'You're not leaving?'
'Unless you want to sit here and wait to die, there are things I need to take care of. Lock yourself in.'
'How long are you…'
The door slammed shut behind him.
I scurried to slam the bolt into place. After a moment's thought, I went back for the chair and jammed its back against the door. Then I closed the window shutters and bolted them too. I considered upending the bed across them, but it looked excessively heavy. I sat down in the chair instead.
I realised I was shaking. Despite how I felt about Alvantes, I'd have given every coin I had left to make him come back. But he wasn't about to. Perhaps he never would. All his noble talk could easily have been a lie to rid himself once and for all of the irritation that was Easie Damasco.
Damasco? I can't understand it, Marina. He was perfectly fine when I left him.
No. I couldn't expect any help from Alvantes. And Synza surely knew where I was. What were a bolted door
