Yahel escorted Xerxes to the inner wall gate, but no further. She gave him an official pass that would allow him to return in the morning and bring a guest with him. He parted ways with her, then headed west toward the river, intending to follow it south back to where the others waited for him. Strangely, the streets seemed crowded compared to back in the inner city.

I don’t remember it being like this last night. Was it some sort of local festival?

Two blocks away from the gate, something made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He looked over his shoulder.

Back in Harborview on Mannemid, he’d developed street instincts by virtue of necessity. Despite not seeing anyone behind him, he felt like he was being followed. No one behind him in the street jumped out as being suspicious. But that didn’t mean his instincts were wrong. He made it a point to stay as close to the middle of the street as possible. The crowds grew thicker.

At the next intersection, he realized why. Some sort of parade was up ahead. Numerous city guards were holding back the crowds as robed and masked individuals marched down the street to the accompaniment of tambourines and horns. Other figures in dark robes carried straw effigies.

There was no way to cross without making a scene. He looked left and right, and also back, trying to identify who might have been the one following him. Yet again, he failed to notice anyone.

He went back west, away from the crowd, then south. Eventually he reached a wall cutting off the southward route, forcing him to either go west toward the parade, or further east. He went east.

There were less people here. What was more, that feeling of being followed waned.

He spotted an alleyway going south, and ducked into it. It was only about four cubits from one end to the other, with crates and refuse piled in the corners on either side. He waited for a moment, looking out into the street, waiting to see if anyone came toward him. No one did.

He started walking. Halfway through the alley, a noise caught his ear, and he looked over his shoulder.

Someone was silhouetted in the alley entrance behind him. Whoever it was, they had a longsword slung over their shoulder.

Shit, I was right. He turned his head forward and broke into a trot.

Someone stepped into the alley entrance ahead.

Fuckers, he thought. They got me cornered.

But who were these people?

The figure in front of him walked forward slowly. He looked over his shoulder. The person behind him did the same.

He adjusted his grip on his sword. What to do?

Were they local thugs, hoping to relieve him of coin? Were they swordsmen wanting to gain fame by cutting down an opponent in a duel? Was that a thing in Puabi?

Were they mages?

He squinted his eyes in the hopes of making out details of the person ahead of him. Could it be possible it was Eskinder? Out for revenge because of the clash at the bridge? Yahel had hinted that the young mage would do something like that.

There’s one way to figure out if they’re mages or not.

The alley walls weren’t bare. Ahead of him, he saw windows, balconies and ladders. Throwing his head back and looking up, he saw the same.

He stepped to the right, bent his legs, and ran toward the opposite wall. He jumped, hit the wall with both feet, then pushed in the opposite direction. Reaching up, he grabbed a balcony, pulled himself up to it, all the while keeping his sword in his other hand. From there, he scrambled up, jumped to the balcony opposite, dashed up a ladder, and made a flying leap. His fingers found purchase on the rooftop, and he pulled himself up.

The rooftops in Puabi were like those in many major cities in the Humusi starisles; they were flat with parapets. Once in a good position, he looked over the parapet into the alley below. The two sword-wielding figures had already converged on the spot where he started climbing, and they were now making the same ascent.

They couldn’t have run that fast if they were Unsighted.

He weighed his options. He knew that Puabi only had five High Seers. The likelihood that either of these two individuals were High Seers seemed low. In fact, Xerxes was willing to put money down that one of them was Eskinder. Xerxes, as a High Seer, could easily outrun Seers, given the right circumstances. He looked to the left, to the south. There were mostly open rooftops.

I can definitely lose them.

But did he want to?

Why were they following him?

He backed away from the parapet and swung his sword into the Tail guard. About ten cubits back, he took a position in the middle of the rooftop.

Moments later, one of the figures climbed over the parapet. He or she wore robes of deep blue, with a silver mask that covered their face. As they stepped onto the rooftop and flipped their sword into the Longfacing position, the second figure climbed over, clad in similar robes and a cloth mask.

Xerxes smiled. “What’s this about, fellow Mages?”

The two figures hesitated. Then, the one in the silver mask took a passing step forward. “Why are you here?”

This person was obviously female. Her voice was light, with a slight rasp. Her voice sounded… attractive and probably young. Not that it meant much with mages. Regardless, Xerxes didn’t recognize her.

“On this rooftop?” he said. “Well, you chased me here. I’d like to ask you the same question. What the hell do you want?”

The female edged forward, her sword pointing at him. The person in the cloth mask stepped to the side and forward. Was it Eskinder? Both figures wore clothing that made it impossible to guess at their gender.

Xerxes thought back to the rush of the fight earlier on the bridge. The feeling of death being on the line. Razor-sharp steel inches from his throat. It terrified him, but at the same time… was exhilarating. He shifted his legs, bending his lead leg in the beginning of a fighting stance.

I could have killed that bastard, he thought. Couldn’t he do the same here, if it came down to it?

“I thought you said he was a coward,” the female said in a low voice.

The person in the cloth mask responded in a whisper. “He is!”

Despite the whisper, Xerxes recognized the voice. Eskinder.

The female took two gathering steps closer to Xerxes, taking the opportunity to enter a fighting stance, her front leg bent, her back leg extended. She also shifted to the Skyfacing guard.

“There are laws in this city,” she said. “Most places on Jehannemid outlaw dueling. But not Puabi.”

Her words revealed that she believed Xerxes to be an outsider, unfamiliar with Puabi or Jehannemid. Following that train of logic, Eskinder must know he was a foreigner, and likely connected to the Black Jackal Company.

“Are you challenging me?” he asked. All the while, he simply stood there, his sword in the Tail guard position. Before taking any action, he wanted to make sure he understood the situation. Whoever this female sword fighter was, there was no way she could possibly be on the level of Mystic Rabya. He remembered Yahel mentioning that Sheik Hatim was the oldest High Seer in Puabi, at nearly three centuries of age. Mystic Rabya had practiced the Epitome for over two hundred years! Even if this female swordsman was a High Seer, which she likely wasn’t, it was impossible that she could be anywhere close to Rabya’s level.

The female swordsman took a short gathering step forward. “Drop your sword.”

Xerxes looked at Eskinder. “I know who you are.”

Eskinder also inched forward.

Xerxes looked back at the woman and decided to bring the weight of authority against her as a threat. “But not you. I’m here with the Black Jackal Company. We represent the Sin-Amuhhu Combined Armed Forces. I suggest you back down.”

“If you’re with the Combined Armed Forces, why are you siding with Hatim?” Eskinder hissed. He tore off the cloth mask. “Hatim’s a rebel!”

Xerxes didn’t move. “Ask High Archon Kingallu,” he said. “We’re here on his authority.”

“Eskinder,” the female said, “I don’t like this.” She took a step back and lowered her sword. “You said he was trying to kill you.”

“He did try to kill me,” Eskinder said. He took yet another passing step forward, putting him very close to being close enough to strike Xerxes.

“That’s far enough,” Xerxes said.

“Oshrit,” Eskinder said, obviously addressing the female mage, “you owe me. This idiot’s a traitor and a danger to our cause. We need to bring him to Arshaka to figure out what’s really going on. I bet these Black Jackals aren’t even from Sin-Amuhhu. They’re probably rogue mages out for their own benefit.”

The female mage Oshrit hesitated. “Drop your sword,” she repeated.

Xerxes was getting annoyed at the jabbering. “I’m not dropping my sword. In fact, the only reason I’m standing here is I wanted to see why you were following me. I’ll give you two options. One: get over that parapet and let me on my way. Two: fight me and die. Your choice.”

Eskinder hissed. “See, Oshrit? Someone from the Combined Armed Forces wouldn’t—”

Not waiting for Eskinder to finish his sentence, Xerxes lunged and brought his sword up in a slashing attack. Eskinder barely managed to bring his own sword down to defend himself. Xerxes whipped his sword around to attack from the opposite direction.

Eskinder was too slow.

However, Xerxes wasn’t aiming for killing blows, and instead, the tip of his blade bit into the young mage’s shoulder.

Eskinder yelped and jumped back.

Xerxes ended in the Reaping Guard. He took a short step backward.

“Let me go,” he said. “I’m not here to fight with you and your loyalists.”

“Eskinder,” Oshrit said, “don’t—”

“Hah!” Eskinder shouted, making a feint, then following with a passing step and an attack.

He telegraphed his move. Badly.

Xerxes could tell he was coming in with the Squinting Slash. It was too easy.

He stepped to the side and thrust. His sword stabbed right into Eskinder’s throat. He pulled the blade out, and blood poured onto the gravel of the rooftop.

Eskinde dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, gurgling.

“No!” Oshrit yelled.

Xerxes backed up as the female mage threw her sword down and bounded forward. She caught Eskinder just as he was about to collapse. Throwing aside her outer robe, she loosened a spell component pouch and pulled out a handful of green belladonna sand. Eskinder slumped in her arms and closed his eyes. Moments later, melam flowed as she cast Minor Restoration. The wound closed.

“Eskinder,” she said. “Eskinder!”

His eyes opened. “What…?”

“I’m leaving,” Xerxes said. “In the time you spent casting that spell, I could have removed both of your heads. Remember that.”

Oshrit looked up at him, her eyes shining beneath her mask. “I know.”

“Stay away from Black Jackal Company. Or else worse will happen.”