False Covenant

“There she is!”

Squirrel followed his friend's pointing finger just in time to see Widdershins, apparently having burst through the door at something of a run, haul herself up short. She took a quick but steady look around, as though searching for something, and then headed off down the Market District's main avenue at a much slower pace. Swiftly she blended in with the crowd, occasionally vanishing completely into pockets of shadow between the glowing lantern posts. (This despite the fact that she wasn't currently dressed in her “business-related” blacks and grays.) Clearly, she didn't care to be detected.

Just as clearly, she was expecting any potential discovery to come from in front of her. She wasn't nearly as well concealed from anyone following behind, especially not anyone who knew most of the same tricks.

“All right, boys,” Simon said through a tight little grin. “Let's see what our girl's got going on tonight, shall we?”

And they, like Widdershins before them, moved out into the street and vanished into the crowd, pursuing a quarry utterly unaware of their presence.

CHAPTER SIX

So furious was Widdershins's burning anger, her determination, and yes-though she'd never have admitted to it-her fear, that it took several moments of intense emotional “shouting” before Olgun was able even to attract her attention.

“What? No!” She cast an ugly glance at the nearest passerby, who was currently staring at her, and then continued in a much lower tone of voice. “No, I do not think this is a dumb idea. In fact, I think this is the best idea anyone has ever had in the history of anyone ever having ideas!”

That response, if nothing else, was apparently enough to cause dizziness, because she'd pushed through the rapidly thinning crowd-most people were hurrying home, if they were out at all this late in the evening-and had covered another two blocks or so before…

“Well, I don't care if you think it's a bad idea! You're not the one who's about to lose your best friend's life's work, are you? What would you even know about-”

Widdershins actually moaned aloud and stumbled, barely catching herself before careening into the worn and discolored wood that was the nearest wall. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt something from Olgun that powerful, that overwhelming. She actually found her gut clenching with a shame that very much reminded her of those times she'd bitterly disappointed Alexandre.

“You…Olgun, I'm so sorry. I know what you've lost. I had no right to say that to you. Forgive me?”

Acceptance, grudging for an instant, then growing stronger-but still tinged with more than a little anger, and more than a lot of worry.

“But you won't lose me, not over this. No, I don't know who he is, but you and me? We can handle anything, yes?”

She was moving again, struggling to catch up before she lost Evrard completely, and though she could sense Olgun's grumbling, she could sense, too, that he wasn't about to argue any further.

The street steadily evolved from mud with the occasional cobblestone to well cobbled with the occasional pothole-and even those began to fade as Evrard's path drew him, and Widdershins, ever nearer Davillon's richer districts. Any doubt the thief might have had regarding her adversary's nobility (in birth and blood, if not in demeanor) was swiftly washing away.

So who was this guy? And why did he harbor such hatred for her?

Evening had taken her leave of the city some minutes earlier, leaving night to assume its rightful place. The roads weren't empty, not entirely, but pedestrians were sparse, and Guardsmen ever more common. Widdershins found herself with no crowds in which to hide; forced to resort ever more often to shadows, doorways, and alleyways any time Evrard thought to look around, her pace slowed and her quarry began to pull ahead. She realized, with a weight in her stomach as though she'd swallowed a whole goose-and not one braised and roasted, either, but feathered and honking-that she was on the verge of losing him entirely.

She peered briefly toward the rooftops, wondering if the “thieves' highway” might not be a wiser option, but quickly dismissed the idea. She didn't know this part of town well enough, didn't know if she'd find herself stranded before a gap too wide to cross. No, best to keep to the roads, maybe even to sacrifice stealth for speed and just hope that the irritating aristocrat wouldn't happen to check behind him at any point where Widdershins couldn't-

The rest of the thought was lost in yet another surge of emotion from Olgun, but this was not anger, nor was it directed at Widdershins specifically. It was, as best she could determine once she had a moment to gather her scattered wits, an intense puzzlement, tinged with, just perhaps, a tiny sprinkling of fear.

“What? Olgun, what?”

An urging, then, as though he was trying to guide her way.

“No! Olgun, Evrard's going that way. I'm not…No! I don't care what might be down that way, I'm not letting-”

She felt a surge in the air around her, as well as within her own mind, and recognized the sensation of Olgun's power. The voices of the few other pedestrians in sight resounded in her ears, each word burning itself into her thoughts. She could hear footsteps as clearly as drumbeats, her own heart as though it had crawled up into her skull (perhaps in search of a better view).

Just as swiftly as it began, it faded. No, not faded, narrowed. Sounds fell away as though she were moving past them, until she heard only what was occurring several streets off to her right.

Gasps. Running. And the occasional scream, not quite loud enough to carry itself normally to her ears.

“It's nothing to do with us,” she insisted, struggling to spot Evrard's flapping coat in the darkness ahead. “I wouldn't even know about it without your stupid jumbo god ears, so-”

She felt, as though it were her own, Olgun's desperate curiosity, his need to know what bizarre power he'd sensed moving through the city.

“I don't care. I've got to learn what Evrard-”

He drew from her thoughts a distinct memory of the Shrouded Lord's directive, to learn precisely what was haunting Davillon.

“I don't care!”

Her hearing focused even further, until she could make out little but the ever-increasing shrieks of terror.

“I don't-oh, figs!” And with a last, vicious glance toward Evrard's retreating back- though it might just as easily have been directed at Olgun-she was sprinting toward the sounds of fright that nobody else on the street nearby could possibly have heard.

Her senses swiftly faded back to normal levels-there were, she knew, limits to how much power Olgun could exercise on her behalf-but it wasn't long before she no longer needed them. The screams, now clearly incorporating no small degree of pain as well as terror, drew near enough for her to hear on her own. Had she been any farther away, even Olgun wouldn't have detected whatever it was that had attracted his attention; had any of the patrols been nearer, rather than concentrated on the main thoroughfares, they could have dealt with this and Widdershins wouldn't have had to abandon her own pursuit.

“We're gonna talk about this later, Olgun,” she snipped at him. Then, once she'd narrowed down her destination to a nearby side street, and realized, further, that there was indeed a building overlooking said street (a glassware shop, if she wasn't mistaken), she swiftly began to climb. Better to approach the trouble, whatever it might be, from an unexpected angle, yes?

In point of fact, the “side street” wasn't much wider than most alleyways she knew. The rear of multiple establishments bordered it on both sides; in fact, had the entire street been this way, rather than just these few blocks, it actually would have been an alleyway.

But it was the alley's-that is, the street's-inhabitants, rather than its design, that snagged her attention as she peered out over the edge of the sloping roof, hands itching as they pressed up against the rough, wooden