do whatever they wished, so long as she didn’t have to be afraid of them. Another time she nearly killed the first shape she saw. She’d even drawn her daggers, but there was blood on them, and for some strange reason that frightened her all the more. It was as if her senses had been heightened a hundredfold, and everything carried hidden danger.
At last she passed a shop that had built a deck across the front. She rolled underneath it, into the cramped space. Finally enveloped in a closed, safe place, she tried to catch her breath. Her heart hammered, and she shivered in wet clothing. She curled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms tight about them, and waited. Time became meaningless. With each passing moment, her terror subsided, replaced once more by an overwhelming sense of euphoria. Despite her dismal surroundings, she had to fight an impulse to touch herself all over. Teeth clenched, hands gripping her elbows, she rode it out, praying for morning.
Come the rise of the sun, she had not slept a wink. Her whole body felt numb, her mouth dry. Her mind was empty, like someone had scooped out her insides with a spoon. All she could think about was shutting her eyes and hoping the blackness that followed would take those feelings away, but she couldn’t. Guards might still be searching for whoever set fire to the boat, and she’d appear quite guilty hiding underneath a deck in strange clothing. Crawling out, her clothes covered with crusted dirt, she looked about to decipher her surroundings. Despite what felt like her eternity of running, she was less than a quarter of a mile from the docks.
The city was yet to wake, though there was a moderate bustle of activity near the docks. Zusa ran for the Keenan mansion, frustrated with the stiffness of her joints. The bag of Violet bounced against her wrist, and she looked at it with far more respect. If any saw her run back, none said anything, and that didn’t surprise her. Paranoia seemed to linger in the back of her mind, but she could control it now, keep it at bay. At the front gates of the mansion she tore off the rest of her facial wrappings and demanded entrance. The two guards had been made aware of her stay, and they hurried to open the gate so none might see her.
She used the servants’ entrance, went directly to her room, and collapsed on their bed. Hoping to fall asleep any moment, she was annoyed to hear the door open, and then Alyssa stepped inside.
“Are you well?” Alyssa asked.
“No,” Zusa said, and she laughed, for she could think of nothing else to say.
“You’re soaked,” Alyssa said, frowning. Her hand pressed against Zusa’s forehead. “Feverish, too. Get off the bed. I’ll help you undress.”
Feeling like a sick child, Zusa sat on the edge of the bed as Alyssa removed her wrappings one layer at a time. Once she was naked, Alyssa pulled a plain white dress over her head. Only then did she let her roll back onto the bed and underneath the covers.
“I found it,” Zusa said, nodding toward the bag that now lay on the floor. “I found the Violet.”
Alyssa picked up the bag and placed it in a pocket of her dress without looking inside.
“Rest now,” she said. “I’ll hear of what happened when you’re well.”
Her body still occasionally twitching, Zusa sighed deeply, laid her head on the pillow, and tried to rest.
“Wait,” she said as Alyssa was just about to close the door. “Where’s Haern?”
Alyssa frowned, and she looked away.
“When you’re awake,” she said, then shut the door, leaving Zusa in blessed darkness.
As they left Ingram’s mansion behind them, Haern found his unease growing. Ahead ran the Wraith, his dark twin, the very man he’d been brought to kill. He’d told Ingram the same. Yet why did he keep his sabers sheathed? Why did he follow, instead of attack?
“You fall behind,” the Wraith shouted, glancing back. Despite their exertion, he wasn’t even winded, and that faint smile remained. Haern felt challenged, and he increased his pace. He should attack, he knew he should attack, but two things bothered him. Why had the Wraith helped save his life, and why had he sent him a challenge half a country away? He wanted answers. He’d expected to get them at the tip of saber, but if he could get him talking first…
They approached the docks. With the buildings built closer together, the Wraith vaulted to the roof of one, pulling himself up by grabbing the edge with hardly a slow in his momentum. Haern replicated the feat, wishing he were as nimble as Zusa. For her, it was as if she could turn off the inevitable fall back to ground. They raced along the rooftops, the homes crammed together, the roofs flat but for a slight tilt facing the ocean. When they reached a heavy crossroad separating the rest of the city from the taverns and docks, the Wraith stopped.
“You came,” he said, his smile nearly ear to ear.
Haern nodded, fighting to catch his breath without showing it. He kept his voice steady and slow to mask it.
“What choice did I have?”
The Wraith laughed.
“Always a choice. Isn’t that the way of men, after all? You could have ignored me. You could have stayed in Veldaren. Instead you traveled here. Why?”
“You’re killing innocents, all to send me a message. I couldn’t allow it any longer.”
“Innocent?” Again, he laughed. “What do you know of this city, Watcher? Nothing. You know nothing, and that is what I’ve come to show you. Veldaren is a temple of saints compared to here.”
He gestured to the street below. Wary of a trap, Haern leaned closer to the edge and looked down. Four men gathered in the alley, all with the sword tattoos on their faces. At their feet was a corpse, which they rifled through, taking any valuables. Haern drew his sabers, furious at the sight.
“These men protect the city?” he asked, incredulous.
“Ingram’s hired any thug with a blade to work for him. Once they were pirates, mercenaries, thieves; now they are the protectors of the innocent. Reminds you of someone, yes?”
Haern felt his chest tighten.
“You know nothing of me, Wraith. I do not shed innocent blood.”
“Is that so? Neither do I. How much do you truly know of the Trifect, and what it’s done? Or how about the Merchant Lords? You’ve walked into a fire, Watcher, blind and dumb. I must say, I had higher hopes than this.”
He gestured to the guards below.
“Go. Men rob and take from a murdered man. Give them their due.”
The Wraith tilted his head at him, as if staring from beneath that strangely dark hood. Haern thought of the four, and the forty that would hang if he took their lives-as he would have in Veldaren.
“If I deliver justice for the innocent, more innocent will die,” Haern said. “Is that what you’ve brought me here for?”
The Wraith shook his head, and there was a hint of disappointment in his sigh.
“I thought you better than that. Innocents will always die. Will you let those with power hide behind them forever?”
He leapt off the building, his black cloak trailing behind him. Haern leaned over the edge, and he knew he had only a fraction of a second to decide. The four guards were below, preparing to dispose of the body in a way that would prevent them any trouble. No matter what he did, more people would die. Except for one option.
Haern leapt off the building after him, his sabers drawn.
The Wraith’s descent ended in a bloody eruption of gore as his sword pierced the nearest guard’s back, punching through his chest. Upon landing, he spun, yanking the blade free and slashing for a second. It tore through his throat. The guard collapsed to his knees, clutching his neck as it gushed. The Wraith continued spinning, his blade turning on the third. It would have opened his chest, but Haern was there, his sabers blocking the strike.
“Get away!” he screamed to the other two, who needed little encouragement. They fled, all the while crying out for more of the city guard.
The smile was gone from the Wraith’s face.
“You protect guilty men, all because you fear the actions of other guilty men,” he said, slowly falling into a stance. “A shame.”
Haern watched the man’s movements carefully. Already he’d seen enough to know he was brutally efficient with his attacks, which came with lightning intensity. The Wraith tilted his sword, shifted a foot, and then lunged. Haern let out a gasp, still surprised by the speed. He blocked the slash for his neck with his left saber while thrusting with his right. The Wraith stepped aside, looped his sword about, and thrust again. When he tried to parry it, Haern found the longer blade shifting aim, a subtle dip that threw his entire defense off. Falling back, he smashed
