Joining with a group of women, I stayed with them as they shopped. The man kept pace with us. I needed a distraction and fast.
One of the women in the group paid for a beaded necklace. She had been rather loud and full of opinions as we went from stand to stand, and she made her annoyance over my unwanted presence clear to me.
When the stand owner handed her the wrapped package, I leaned over and whispered to her, “He sold that very same necklace to my friend for two silvers last week.”
The woman had just paid four silvers. As predicted, she loudly demanded the same price and the confused seller tried to reason with her. The ensuing argument drew a considerable crowd and I squeezed between them, hoping to lose the Daviian.
No luck. He caught sight of me and followed. A few shoppers temporarily blocked his way, and I ducked under one of the market stands.
Not the best decision, but I had run out of options. I hunched under the table. A purple cloth had been draped over it and the material hung to the ground. A few bolts of fabric and a box of buttons had been stored underneath.
I wondered when it would be safe to leave. Popping up just as the Vermin walked by wouldn’t be ideal, so I squirmed into a more comfortable position to wait.
The purple fabric pulled aside. I froze.
A man’s face peered through the opening. “Your friend’s gone. It’s safe to come out.”
He backed away when I started to move. “Thanks,” I said, brushing the dirt off my cloak.
“Attracting their attention is never a good thing,” the man said. His round face held a serious expression. “People tend to disappear around here. Especially those with five golds on their head.”
I calmed my furious heartbeat. The stand owner knew I hid under his table and he hadn’t reported me. At least not yet. Perhaps he wished to strike a bargain? Something like six golds to keep quiet.
“Don’t worry. You’re a friend to Fisk and his guild. And just the fact the Daviians would be willing to pay five golds for your capture means you, of all people, scare them. I hope for the sake of my family the reason you scare them is because you can do something to bring our normal lives back.”
“I scare them,” I agreed, thinking about the Sitian Council and how terrified they had been over me being a Soulfinder. “But I don’t know if I can restore your old way of life. I’m only one person.”
“You have Fisk’s help.”
“Until my money runs out.”
“True. That little scamp, forcing me to make an honest living!” The man paused and considered. “Aren’t there any others to help you?”
“Would you help me?”
He blinked in surprise. “How?”
“Not all these Vermin are Warpers. They carry scimitars and spears, but look around you—they are outnumbered.”
“But their Warpers have powerful magic.”
“You don’t have any magicians? No one has escaped from the Keep? No one has come from the other clans?”
His eyes lit with understanding. “But they’re scattered around the Citadel. They hide in fear.”
“A concerned citizen needs to convince them to act despite their fear, to organize them and, when the time is right, to lead them.”
“You can do that. You’re the Soulfinder.”
I shook my head. “My presence would jeopardize the efforts. I’m needed elsewhere. If you’re determined, you will find the right person.”
The man smoothed out the fabric on his table. He appeared deep in thought. “Merchants come and go from the Citadel all the time… caravans of goods…”
“Just be very careful.” I started to walk away.
“Wait. How will we know when the time is right?”
“I have a bad feeling that you won’t be able to miss it.”
After the day settled into night, I met up with Fisk and his uncle. People walked the streets in good humor despite their Vermin watchers and the late hour. While Fisk went to prepare for later, I led his uncle onto the roof.
Once we ascended, we traveled over the roofs of the Citadel to Bavol’s dwelling. If they weren’t out celebrating, the other residents had already gone to bed. I pulled the rope Fisk had bought for me from my pack, and secured it around the chimney before tossing the end over the side.
The glow from the lamplights didn’t reach the back alley, so I hoped Bavol had remembered to open the back window. Clutching the rope, I shimmied down the side of the house and was relieved to find the window open. I climbed into Petal’s room with the utmost care. Inside the room, I stilled and listened to her breathing, steady with the occasional snore. I yanked on the rope, then held it stable while Uncle slid down. He joined me in the room with a thump. We both froze until Petal resumed her even breathing.
Bavol, awake and ready, waited for us in his room. Uncle slipped into bed, pulling the blankets up to his neck and the Councilor came with me to the back window. Living in the jungle canopy all his life, Bavol had no trouble ascending the rope. I followed.
Traveling over the rooftops proved to be ideal. Eventually, we climbed down to the ground. When we came within sight of the north gate, we found a place to hide. No traffic. I worried, and the longer the gate remained empty the greater my fear.
As I tried to decide if we should risk crossing through, a group of obviously inebriated men and women approached. With loud voices, a few of the group decided they wanted to go outside the Citadel, and a discussion ensued, leading to a fight.
When the guards became entangled in the brawl, Bavol and I slipped through the gate unnoticed. Once out of sight of the guardhouse, we ran. Our time was limited.
We reached Valek’s cottage and I hoped we would be far enough away from the Citadel and the Warpers.
Kiki whinnied in her stall and I opened my mind to her.
Lavender Lady safe, she said with contentment. Ghost upset.
I’ll talk later. No time right now. I hustled Bavol into the cottage. Valek sat on the couch, his expression set into cold fury.
I ignored his anger. He of all people should know the nature of this operation lent itself to unforeseen circumstances. However, I knew why Bavol’s face blanched when he spotted Valek on the couch.
“You set me up,” he said, taking a step back.
“Relax, Bavol. If Valek was going to assassinate the Council, you would be dead by now. He’s helping me.”
Valek snorted. “I am? Funny how I forgot. Or is it because someone forgot about me?” Sarcasm spiked each word.
Again, I ignored his fury and filled him in on what Bavol had told me. His face lost some of his ire as he considered the new information.
“Bavol, sit down. Close your eyes. Think of your daughter,” I ordered.
When he settled on the couch, I reached for power. Touching the source caused a sudden rush of relief. I hadn’t used magic in two days and reconnecting felt like being wrapped tight in my mother’s arms.
I projected my awareness to Bavol. His loving thoughts dwelled on his little girl. She appeared to be around eight years old. Strands of gold streaked her long brown hair and a spattering of freckles dotted her warm maple- colored cheeks. A beautiful child, she twirled with delight after being presented with a piece of sap candy.
Through Bavol, I reached toward Jenniqilla. Within the memory, her happiness over the candy matched her joy over spending time with her father. I pushed past the memory and tried to find the girl.
She missed her father with a painful desperation. Cold and hungry, she wanted her father and mother more than food or heat. She rocked back and forth, trying to soothe the child in her arms. The two-year-old boy’s crying had set off a chain reaction among the children in the room. A woman paced with a year-old baby girl and the man tried to cajole another two-year-old.
