Kisha drew a small piece of folded leather from her pocket. “This is from Anakisha. I’ve kept it all these years, since I was a littling.” She passed it to Marlies.
Marlies unwrapped it to reveal a jade ring engraved with whorls.
“She said that if you were ever stuck in a dire situation, to rub the ring and say my name, Kisha. I hope it helps you one day.”
“What does it do?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never used it. My grandmother emphasized the danger in using this ring too often. It’s for emergencies only.”
Marlies tucked the ring in her breast pocket and hugged Kisha. “Thank you. I loved your grandmother very much.”
Kisha blinked several times. “Me too. Where are you going?”
The more Marlies told Kisha, the more danger Kisha would be in if tharuks questioned her, so she kept her answer vague. “Across the Flatlands.”
Kisha’s eyes lit up. “We have a wagon doing deliveries in the Flatlands tomorrow. We can help you across.”
Marlies hesitated. Would she drag the driver into danger?
“Our driver is experienced in avoiding tharuks,” Kisha added.
Better than going on foot. “I’d love a ride, then,” Marlies replied.
A tharuk bellow came from the taproom, “More beer!”
“Sleep well.” Kisha rushed from the room. “See you in the morning.”
After finishing her meal, despite the loud festivities outside, Marlies fell asleep. It was far from restful; she twitched and turned at every sound, dreaming of tharuks stalking her through The Lost King.
§
476 limped into Last Stop as dawn dragged its bloody claws across the sky. His crow alighted on his outstretched arm and showed him faces and scents of travelers who’d entered the village from the south yesterday. One caught his attention.
“That one,” he said, seeing the crow’s memory of a tall woman who was wearing boots under her peasant dress, instead of shoes or sandals.
It had been following large bootprints before the fire in the gum trees. This female had large feet—and no strong scent. Her head was wrapped in a peasant’s scarf and she was carrying a sack of firewood—a sack large enough to hide something. 476 had to find her.
His crow perched on his shoulder, 476 tromped through the alleys toward the square. Spotting a troop of tharuks who were slumbering off beer—from the smell of their stinking breath—he roused a small one with a kick.
“Who is your overseer?” 476 snarled, spit flying off its broken tusk.
The small tharuk nudged a larger beast and it scrambled to its feet. Upon seeing 476’s broken tusk, this overseer practically bowed.
476 smirked. There was value in having a reputation. “You seen this female?” he barked. His crow hopped onto his outstretched arm and let the overseer touch its head and mind-meld. Behind it, the troop rose to their feet, at the ready.
The overseer motioned a mind-bender forward to touch the crow.
Black eyes gleaming, the mind-bender said, “It’s that female what wanted shoes. Let’s visit cobbler.”
§
Bloodcurdling growls woke Marlies. Leaping out of bed, she hastily fastened her sword belt and palmed her dagger, listening. Another growl came from below her window. Marlies twitched back a curtain. Shards, she’d overslept, lulled by a bath, hot food and a soft bed. Tharuks were swarming the square, hassling hawkers, overturning stalls and holding villagers at clawtip. Thank the Egg, only a few villagers were about.
Thumping sounded on the wooden door downstairs. Doors either side of hers bashed open, and snarls filled the hall. “She’s here, somewhere,” a tharuk roared. “Search!”
She had to leave to protect Kisha. Marlies threw on her rucksack. Sliding the window up, she clambered onto the sill, holding on to the lintel. Should she jump?
There was no way down. Cries rang out. Poised on the window ledge, Marlies had nowhere to go except sideways. The ivy smothering the inn was going to make it hard work. Her hands gripping the tiny crevices between the stones, Marlies edged along the building, picking her way around the leaves—until her foot got tangled in a vine. Nearby, a growl rumbled. Shards! A tracker was harassing a man right below her. If she dropped ivy leaves, it’d see her. Heart pounding, Marlies extricated her foot from the vine.
Reaching her arm around the wall, she found a handhold around the corner. As she swung her leg around, her rucksack threatened to drag her off the building. She grabbed another handhold, but her foot hit a piece of loose stone, dislodging it. The chunk of stone crashed to the ground, narrowly missing a littling. The boy stared up at her, opening his mouth to shriek. Marlies smiled at him, frantically shaking her head. Wide-eyed, he snapped his mouth shut.
Marlies nipped along the wall, hand over hand, making her way along a narrow alley. Her arms were burning and her legs shaking, but if she could just get around the next corner, she’d be above the stable yards at the rear of the inn.
Someone screamed. She whipped her head around to see a tharuk chasing the littling boy down the alley. Without thinking, Marlies let go, pushing off the wall. She landed on the tharuk’s back. It hit the ground, snarling. Leaping to her feet, Marlies drew her sword. The beast slashed her leg with sharp claws. Pain lanced through her. By the Egg, her calf.
She lunged and drove her sword under the tharuk’s arm, through its armpit into its chest. The beast shrieked and lay still.
Wiping her sword on its fur, Marlies said to the littling. “Go. Run and hide.”
The boy scarpered.
Leg burning and blood soaking through her breeches, Marlies staggered to the stable yard and wrenched the gate open. Dragging herself inside,
