I was right about one thing: Teryon’s guard have no idea where Wyl goes or what she does. You can see in my shadows’ vexed eyes when I meet her in the servant’s courtyard behind the keep. One of them runs out, I assume to find the guards who are supposed to be tailing her. Wyl doesn’t pay them any mind.

I guess investing in Sneaky pays off.

Fire magic is also very good, Rue reassures me. He’s wrapped around my maimed wrist, humming softly. It’s better for killing people with.

I block the torrent of thoughts that rise in answer to that. Rue’s obsession with killing has gotten me a little worried recently. Perks affect you more than you’d think, and since he picked – that I picked his path as a weapon he’s been… odd. Thinking like a weapon, made for a single purpose and otherwise useless.

Wyll is wearing her dark muddy-green coat and sits on the crenellations above, legs dangling. The Untouched guards that walk behind her, surveying the city, don’t seem to mind her much, or maybe their inattention is a product of the careful instincts borne of living under Godtouched rule: don’t see the powerful. If they act up, pray that someone else will take care of it.

It’s an easy inclination to relate to. All of Reach operates under that principle, and it sees Godtouched once, twice a year.

When I approach, Wyl scoots past the lip of the wall, dangles from one hand, and lets herself fall down to the courtyard. It’s an impressive tumble, and one she handles with ease, landing like a cat. Perk or Gift? I can’t tell. I remember Wyl already being a fantastic climber when we were down in the dungeon, so maybe this is plain practice, like Essa and her swordsmanship.

“Evenin’, Mally,” she says., turning and walking to the gate “Come on. I reserved the best seats in the house.”

I follow her, somewhat surprised the passage into the keep is open at this time of night. It makes sense, somewhat: Godtouched are creature of excess, and wares, from food to various luxuries, must be in constant demand. Still…

“Isn’t it unsafe?” I ask Wyl, nodding to the open gate. “If someone wanted to make it in under cover of darkness, they could. Easily.”

Wyl grins.

“And d’you Godtouched care much about safety?” she asks. “What’s actually guarding this place, would you say: the Untouched guards with spears, the walls, or the bloodthirsty immortal gods inside?”

I nod. She’s got a point.

“So the rest is what? A message?”

“Right on the money, country boy,” she says as we pass under the arch of the gate, studiously unobserved by the guards on post. The one behind us, Teryon’s guard, is keeping a watchful eye, and staying close. “Kill the previous big man, take his great big keep on the hill, and put his tax collectors under new management. That’s your rebellion done. Tale as old as time.”

Wyl sits on the same low wall I sat on with Essa and admires the stars. Like pinpricks on a black tablecloth covering a pale blue lantern. I sit down next to her, close, so we can speak privately.

But before we can, we’re interrupted.

“You can’t be out here,” says my tail, approaching. He’s got his hand on the pommel of a slim, long dagger. “I need you to go back inside this instant.”

“And what, miss out on the delightful night, Mr. Officer, sir?” Wyl asks, pressing down on her accent. “What a shame that would be.”

“You can watch the sights from the keep. Inside, please.”

I pipe in. I’ve grown less timid of Godtouched since my fight.

“Are you worried now that your colleague left? Because we outnumber you?”

The man sneers, hand firming its hold on the pommel. Before he can answer, Wyl cuts him off.

“Sir guard, I should point we’re inside the keep,” she says. “This here access ramp, instrumental as it is for supplying and what not, is a vital portion of it. So we’re not in violation of orders. You don’t have no need to worry. That there is a long drop in the dark, and unless you’re worried we’re gonna jump all you have to do is stand there,” she points to the start of the ramp proper, leading down to the city. “And wait for your friends and comrades. Howzat?”

The guard grumbles, looking behind to the gate and down at the city, where another cordon of Untouched soldiers checks laden carts that wish to make the ascent. Finally, he steps off, standing close, hands tight and nervous, eyes darting in our direction at set intervals.

I sit down on the low wall next to her and swing my legs to the other side.

“You said we were going to meet some people today,” I say.

“Yep.”

“So we are jumping,” I say.

“Yep,” Wyl grins.

I sigh.

“If your plan is to kill me and eliminate the competition, then it’s a pretty stupid plan,” I say. “I mean, I’d have to jump voluntarily into the dark. Nevermind that gods know how tall this thing is.”

“Pretty tall.”

“Right. No one in their right mind would do it just because you asked.”

Silence. The swish of the wind ruffles my dark cloak. I wish I was wearing the war mantle, but tonight will be about blending in. I left Mossgreen’s gift hidden in my room These day’s, it’s green and lively. I’ve been watering it daily and leaving it in the sun, and it seems to enjoy the care.

“You are jumping, though, aren’t you?” Wyl asks.

“Well, yeah, of course,” I say with a nervous smile. “Just saying that this plan would never work on anyone sensible.”

“Good thing I know my mark, then,” she says.

We’re still looking up at the dark sky above and speaking softly. The half-moon has begun its long journey across the firmament. The rest of the guards arrive, the second of my pair and Wyl’s two. They join our man and speak among themselves.

“Think they’re gonna convince him we shouldn’t be out here?” I ask.

“Definitely.”

“So…?”

“Right. Jump behind me. There’s a couple of bushes in this precise spot that’ll slow your fall. Protect your eyes and roll as you hit the ground.” Wyl smiles at me. “We’re Rogues. We got this.”

She jumps, disappearing into the dark.

With the first cry of alarm, barely ahead of the the Godtouched guards running to us, I let myself drop after her.

The fall isn’t smooth, but at least I know where to fall. The bushy trees cushion my weight an let me through, scratching at the exposed skin of my face, one and then the other. I fall on a dirt slop, roll to a stop on the hay. Wyl pulls me up by the arm and we limp away a second before the bodies fall from the sky.

The first guard hits the ground with the horrible sound of breaking bone. He yells and curses something fierce, searching for a weapon that tumbled away from his grasp. The second one to fall down, attempts to scale down the wall, loses his footing and snaps his neck on landing. He doesn’t get up.

We don’t stay to see if the third and fourth guards repeat their comrades’ folly. Wyl leads us to a narrow pass between two houses, and from there we join the throng of people out and about in the streets, all headed home from the tavern or to the tavern from home and all lively and merry. Two nondescript kids with cloaks barely even leave an impression.

I keep telling myself that I cannot trust Wyl, not entirely, even as I admire her impetuousness, her capacity to go through with the most daunting plans. I’m loyal to Lysander. That means I’m here to watch, to gather important information. These people Wyl wants to introduce me to might yet be turned into allies, but I will not allow myself to think of them as alternatives.

And if they give us trouble, we can always kill them, Rue supplies.

I hadn’t even realized he’d been listening. He’s turning into quite a sneaky little thing, which doesn’t help at all with my reserves about his bloodlust.

Wyl doesn’t hesitate for a second getting us from the keep and into the main thoroughfares. Only once does she change course to push us both into a side-street, and only because a troupe of Untouched guards were running up the street.

“Looking for us?” I ask her. “Already?”

“Aye. We’re good investments, we are.”

I shake my head. Valkas is going to throw me into a cell when he catches me. Maybe gift me to Meriana.

The streets become quieter, more somber, though none in this part of town reaches the levels of seediness Ged introduced me to when he showed me the underground bar. They’re respectful, clean streets, filled with high-end shops. I note a couple of alchemists, for later.

After a few twists and turns, we reach a small, narrow lane at an angle with the thoroughfare we’d been walking down. A wooden plaque with a painted bird hangs from the side of a squat building at the entrance. I look closer. It’s not just any bird. It’s a…

Dove? Why does that sound familiar?

But Wyl is already walking down the line of shops, all closed at the end of the workday. I hurry to catch up with her.

“Your friends are bit richer than I thought they would be,” I comment idly. “Where did you meet them?”

“They raised me.”

“I thought…” I stop myself. I thought you were an orphan is what was about to come out of my mouth. But I don’t want to antagonize Wyl any further.

“What?” she turns a quizzical eye to me, and her pointy ear twitches a little.

“Never mind,” I shake my head, trying to brush the subject away. “It was stupid.”

“Yeah, keep it to yourself, then,” Wyl responds, unconcerned. “Especially right now; keep your stupidity to yourself. We’re here.”

“Alright. Where is here, exactly?”

“Here,” Wyl points, walks up, knocks on a door among many.

I look up at the store’s marker. It says, Ready Roderick’s.