I tread carefully, ears perked at every stray breath of wind. Another guard could be right around the corner. The solider turned sharply on his heel, armored glove resting lightly on the pommel of his sword. It swung freely in its sheath at his hip, a slice of the shiny metal glinting in the setting sun.

My heart leapt into my throat but I forced my careful breathing. He couldn't see me. That is, he didn't know to look. He was the prey, not me.

Clunk, clunk, clunk, thud.

The guard took a few steps and stopped again, holding up a hand as he yawned.

I sidled quietly from the alley and slipped across the street, ever closer to the guard. The shadows of dusk welcomed me gladly into their arms, the uncertain gray light enveloping me.

"Hey Uhle!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a voice right beside me boomed in the silent street. The other guard's voice echoed off the stone storefronts, muffled only by empty, covered stalls.

"Yeah?" The first guard answered.

"Switch me, I'm bored down this way!"

I ignored the guards conversation. Let them argue, I needed to get on the roof.

Guard Two went away grumbling. Good.

It was a trick I'd used a hundred times, but my heart was beating fast. I chucked the rock with all my might past the guard and didn't wait for it to land before I shot out of the alley on light feet. My swift steps on the cobblestones were padded by thin cloth shoes, and it was second nature choose each stone for my foot to land.

I was three steps out of the alley when the rock smashed on the street, and the guard jumped nearly as much as I had just a moment earlier. He took a hesitant step toward the noise, then clanked farther down the street, leaving his position near the doorway.

The opening was all I needed, the clank of armor all the cover I could ask for.

My legs pushed off the ground and I was soaring for one exhilarating eternity before one hand caught the protruding joist, then the other. My light frame was easy to pull onto the precarious perch, the flickering torchlight of the street making it easy to blend in.

Just a few more seconds...

Clank.

The solider stopped dead right below me.

Did he just not care about the rock? I thought wildly. I was balanced on a stud, pressed against the flat wall of the multi-story building. That was loud!

He just had to look up. I was a tough shape to make out, but the light stonework didn't do well to hide my dark cloak. He could shout and three other guards would come running.

The guard casually whistled a few notes, scanning up and down the street leisurely.

My lungs were bursting from keeping my breathing steady. All I could think about was taking a massive gulp of air.

"Uhle! What about now!"

I silently celebrated the return of Guard Two. Guard One, Uhle, was not happy, and their bickering covered my ascent to the second floor windowsill. Having three floors, this house was one of the taller buildings in Yeandol, and I saw why the Corvel chose it for a meeting. Not that the height could stop me eavesdropping.

They should've put a man on the roof.

A few more swift moves and I was huddled against the shuttered window, straining to hear the soldiers' voices inside. A slit of light slipped through the shutters where the two wooden flaps met, perfect to press my ear against.

I grinned. This is too easy.

* * *

L'razar shuffled to the door, grumbling. He'd had three visits already today, and now, at dusk, all he needed was a long rest and a smoke. Sprinkling a few drops of ipsthene essence into the pipe, he set it down on the table and slid open the small grate on the door.

A man in a black cloak. Weren't they all in dark cloaks these days.

"What do you want?" The shaman called irritably.

"You are a bold man for being so small, shaman."

That stung a bit. How dare this stranger come with insults!

L'razar straightened, tilting his chin to the ceiling. Maybe he wasn't that tall, he thought to himself, judging the distance from his head to the top of the doorframe.

"Enough, shaman. We haven't come this far for games."

"And what exactly have you come for? I'm a busy man, stranger, you might even say swamped, though for a pretty penny I could squeeze you in." L'razar closed the little window. "In fact, it would be quite a price to take me from my work tonight, I say, quite a price!" He turned again toward the door, outside of which the stranger had fallen silent. "What's it that I can do fo—"

Bam!

The heavy iron door fell flat on its face into the shaman's cottage, busting right off the hinges.

The little man squeaked and dove out of the way, spluttering as dust plumed into his nose and mouth. "Now I say, how dare you!" He turned to face the insolent stranger, a lecture on manners at the tip of his tongue, but swallowed it—and perhaps his tongue too—at the three men who stooped through the doorway.

Two masked, with gruesome faces carved in white chalk. One hooded, gray-faced, and a deadly calm look.

They filed in around the shaman, ignoring him clambering to his feet, the two masked ones tossing expensive bits and bottles as they rummaged his shelves.

"N-now stop that! This is an-an-an..." L'razar searched for words at the injustice. "An outrage! Do you know who I am!" He stepped up to the hooded man. "Whatever you want, you'll have to buy, or else!" He held up the black ring on his hand.

The Baldük stared at the ring, then laughed. He was young, L'razar thought—hardly the to treat his elders. The man's laugh was harsh and loud, filling the small room over the sounds of smashing bottles and torn parchments. The masked ones ignored the two men talking.

"The question is, do you know who I am?" Bërrha leaned forward, a sneer curling on his lips. The wizened shaman scowled, and the prince's smile widened.

L'razar had dealt with men like this plenty of times before. The ring always protected the shaman, so this intruder would be no different. He lunged for the hooded one's face—this one needed to hurt.

The Baldük was faster though. He caught L'razar by the wrist, ignoring the vertigo the ring immediately dosed him with, and slammed the old man's hand against the table. He brought the other hand down with a knife and drove it straight through the shaman's palm into the thick wood.

L'razar screamed.

The hooded man's gray knuckles were white on the edge of the table as he swayed, the shaman's ring dizzying him with even a slight touch. One of his warriors caught the prince by shoulder as he staggered. The hooded one threw him off and clawed back to his feet using the table. His gray cheeks were flushed.

"Bold of you, shaman," the prince snarled, "to shout near and far of the priceless necklace you've come across, a gold artifact encasing a flawless emerald. Bold, to think no one would come knocking for it, that your pitiful magic was sufficient to keep it safe." He shoved the blade deeper into the table and the old man cried out. "You are wrong, shaman, to threaten me, when it will be you giving me what I want, or else."

L'razar whimpered and raised one shaking finger to point at the little wooden chest nestled on a high shelf—the chest that had never held the amulet, but only a stone, the discovery of which would baffle the shaman.

Outside, the shaman's pig looked up with a start, then turned back to the trough. Glass shattered, wood splintered, then came an even louder scream. The pig shook its head angrily, but soon ignored the commotion inside.

Nobody else heard the old man's cries.

* * *

I had missed the silence of the moccasins. It had been a long time since I had worn them; too long that the crunch of my boots followed me. I felt light again. Much of the town slept when darkness fell, and I found a strange comfort in the quiet streets, the still shadows.

"The Rusty Barrel," read the sign outside the tavern. It hung lopsided from two chains, swinging gently with the breeze. Raucous laughter squeezed past the squeaky wooden door and spilled into the street.

I sighed, savoring the solitude. Just me and the Rusty Barrel sign.

The door creaked open and shut behind me. This time, nobody heard and nobody looked up. Voices rolled over each other and laughter split the air. Shouts erupted from one table as a gambler won and three others lost. The stench of alcohol hit me like a wall when I walked in, not to mention dirt and sweat. Even the roaring fire was drowned by the tumult. Several other lanterns burned bright around the walls, allowing the bartender to keep a close eye on his customers.

"Good news and bad," I nearly shouted to Koren and Maeldok as I joined them at the table.

"Look Sed, Andrin has a new friend." Koren jerked his head to the bar, the corners of his mouth twitching. "He looks like just the type we can take along with us!"

I laughed. The man was portly—I thought it the politest way to think him—with a scratchy beard, two chins, and no neck to speak of. He clutched a giant tankard of ale in one meaty palm, the other arm draped across Andrin's thin shoulders. If not for Andrin's height, the big man made the Baldük look like a child.

"But seriously, I have news." I allowed myself another grin at Andrin's situation but turned back to the table. "I managed to listen in on part of the Corvel's meeting, but I'm sure I missed a lot."

"And? Any word on the dead soldiers?"

"Nothing, although that doesn't mean they didn't talk about it earlier."

"So what'd you find out?" Koren was keeping an eye on the bar and nursing his own drink.

I raised an eyebrow when I noticed. "What's with the mug? You usually don't have a taste for that."

He shrugged, then took a long swig. "Gotta blend in here!"

"Anyway," I picked up again, shaking my head, "the Corvel soldiers are posted here to provide eyes on the moving Ska'al. Bërrha and his men have been given further access to Corvelen lands to search for, well, me, I guess, us to be more exact. I think the guards have mixed feelings. They obviously don't trust the Ska'al completely, but don't seem to be overly worried that they're moving deeper into Corvelen. I'm not sure what Bërrha's done to earn Aelridia's trust, but it's working."

Maeldok finally chimed in. "Aelridia would not dare allow the Ska'al into northern Corvelen. Here in the countryside the people may be on edge, but Reill can support any town along the East or West Roads."

"I hope you're right. I'd hate to see Bërrha allowed to chase wherever we run. At that pint we're handing him influence and knowledge on a silver platter. He could maneuver troops into any position in Corvelen before the Corvel knew what hit them."

Koren had a point. At this point, a few Ska'al in Corvelen wasn't a problem, but the further Bërrha's limits were pushed, the more potential he had for a preemptive strike. That is, if his plan was war with Corvelen at all. Which we're not really sure about. It bothered me to know so little of the prince's plans.

"And the good news?" Koren broke into my thoughts.

"Oh, um." I made a face. "The good news was that I managed to listen in. The bad news was what I just told you."

It was hard not to laugh at Koren's irritation. He drained his mug and set it down with a crash on the table, then immediately broke into a grin. "Ah, our new friend comes to join us! Success! Welcome friend, welcome, pull up a seat!"

Andrin swayed beneath the weight of the larger man, but dumped the poor drunkard into a seat beside me. A fresh wave of alcohol hit my nose.

"His name's Guthard. Guthard, meet everyone!" Andrin leaned in to whisper in my ear, not a single whiff of booze on his breath. "Buy a man a drink or two and he'll tell you anything you'd want to know."

Guthard belched and enveloped Koren's whole forearm in a handshake.

"A drink or two or twelve?" I asked Andrin with a soft laugh.

The Baldük flashed me ten fingers, then four more, wiggling a stolen coin purse between his fingers as he sat down.

Our new comrade was already past introductions and on to his deepest fears. "When I was a boy, friends," he slurred, "I always was afraid of you Baldük." The word didn't roll off his tongue quite right, sounding more like "Balktd" than anything else. "If there's anything I hated more, it was them gray-skinned traders flashing them shining rocks and weird plants in th' market."

He leaned close to Andrin and shouted into his ear. "Thas' language you talk sounds mighty strange too, if I do say so!" He guffawed, and I saw Andrin wipe his own face with his sleeve.

He wrapped a long arm around Guthard anyway, though, and allowed the man to go on with his story.

"But then I's hears another story one day, and do you know what it was about?" Guthard turned and fixed me the most pathetic puppy eyes is ever seen.

"U—"

"It was about a Slo'ce," he answered for me. A hiccup slipped out but the man drowned it in a another chug of ale. "Pardon me, I meant to say Solssss... Solstice, Solace, that's the word aye!" He let out a great laugh from his belly and pounded the table.

I tried to keep my cool but felt my face grow hot. Koren shot me a glare.

"The Solace is the most terrifying thing I's ever heard of, friends, more than that gray skin you folk wear around." He pointed to Andrin. "But I'll take your kin' roaming th' countryside any day to keep us safe n' sound at home, with no mons'ers to worry 'bout."

I'll show you a real monster. My mind flashed to the creature near the Crossroads.

He went on, "My pop always told me, do you know what he told me? He says to me 'Son. Don't ever go tanglin' with a Solace son, yeh hear?' An' I tells you folks, I'm a man who listens to his pops! Them brave soldiers o' Reill, they the real heroes!" He giggled at his own pun. "Not sure why we can' have them fine fellows go af'er the Solace, who knows! The mus' know summat we don't, or we wouldn't have them chalk-faces arunnin' round!"

Andrin, Koren and I exchanged looks. It didn't seem like the people hated the Ska'al as much as we could've hoped.

"Tell me, Guthard," Andrin said, patting the man's slab of a shoulder, "you know we're all honest men here. Is anyone else afraid of the Ska'al? Does nobody else mind them?"

A wide smile spread over Guthard's face. "Now friend, we is honest men here. Yer attitudes just rub me the righ' way an' all here now! Naw, we isn't too scared o' the Ska'al—"

Finally, a word we found that doesn't come out slurred, I thought, rolling my eyes.

"—though we see 'em like the dogs runnin' amok. Sending Ska'al to chase the S'lace be like sendin' the dogs to hunt the bear. Now me and my folk don't mind the dogs long as they keep in their place and out of our food, if yeh knows what I'm sayin'," he rubbed his great belly, "it's the bear we can't live with!"

"So the people have no ill will toward the Ska'al?"

"Nows I didn't say quite tha' there friend, but the fact o' the matter is tha' the dogs can be tamed and the bear can't! Wha'd'ya think of that one!" A great roar of laughter burst from his lips and he tipped his head all the way back again.

It was a good thing he was drunk at this point, because my fists were clenched right and my cheeks were bright red. There was heat radiating off my body, and for once in quite a while, the magic stirred inside me.

That wasn't good. "Well boys, looks like it's me against the world," I concluded.

"You against all of Corvelen and most of Baldük-kre actually," Koren responded matter-of-factly. He quailed under Andrin's murderous look.

Guthard had drifted into a stupor in his chair, and I made to leave the table. I was getting used to everyone wanting me dead or gone or worse. Koren's brutal realism actually made me feel a bit better. At this point, opposition wasn't anything new. It was good that my friends had my back. Maeldok even had... well, Maeldok probably wouldn't ever be one for moral support, but it was good to have him too. I considered the stoic Baldük before heading upstairs to our room—he had more tricks up his sleeve than it seemed at first glance, I was sure. Good to have someone like that on my side for once.

All of a sudden I couldn't help but feel a million eyes on the back of my head as I left main bar and mounted the stairs. Now that I knew there was a target on my back, it felt like everyone was staring.

Some time later, the door of our room eased open.

Already lying on my cot, I rolled my eyes when Andrin pulled a giggling Koren into the room. It was a rare occurrence.

He argued the tipsy Animaré onto his bedroll, and then I heard Andrin's long frame sink into bed.

"Sedris."

He knew I was awake. Of course he knew, he could probably see it plain as day in the currents.

"Yeah?" I answered, somewhat irritated.

"Have you ever cared that I'm Baldük?"

Oh Andrin. I closed my eyes, inwardly kicking myself. Here I was brooding about the target on my back—it wasn't like Andrin could change his skin.

"No, Andrin," I breathed softly into the darkness. "I never have."

He sighed. "Okay."

We stared at the ceiling for a while.

"Andrin?"

"Hm?"

"Are you afraid of me?" I bit my lip. What a stupid thing to worry about.

He thought about it. "Should I be?"

That wasn't what I expected. "I'm not sure... Maybe." Magic coiled tighter in my chest like a spring. I'd hurt him, once. It was an accident, but still.

I had hurt a lot of people.

"I'm not afraid of you." It seemed like he wanted to say more, but didn't.

We lay in silence for a while, and I thought he had fallen asleep.

"I think you're more afraid of yourself than anyone else is."

I lay awake for a long time thinking about that.

* * *

"Do you feel that?" Andrin whispered.

I took a deep breath, like I could breathe it in. "Not... exactly."

But it was something.

Tension hung in the warm tavern like fog. The owner nodded a brief hello to us as we crossed the bar, packs loaded and heavy on our shoulders.

"Do you think something happened?"

Andrin glanced quickly to Maeldok, who was already waiting by the door.

Koren shrugged. "Not sure. It won't matter soon though." He adjusted his own pack.

We reached the door just as it swung open, a burly soldier shouldering through leisurely. Everyone instinctively turned away, but he swaggered past us with barely even a glance, making straight for the bar.

Maeldok's grip closed on my elbow and we quickly joined the early morning throng of travelers on the street.

"What could he be wanting?" I wondered aloud, breathing in the smell of the crowd.

Andrin echoed my thoughts and we both turned to Koren, but he was gone. "Did he not come out with us? I thought he was dying to get out of here!"

Maeldok raised his hood and muttered something. "Turn and walk—quickly now."

"But—" Andrin protested, but I nudged him and jerked my head down the street, dragging him along the other way as I did. Four gleaming helmets bobbed above the crowd, moving swiftly and closing the gap between us.