Jutney started out at a full run, heedless of who may be looking. Kelton followed a few steps behind as they moved between buildings and turned down streets in a zigzag pattern. Kelton was fully lost by the time they entered a small structure through the back.

"Your cloak," Jutney said as squatted to catch his breath. It was a one-room home, simple table, straw mattress, and a rough stone hearth in full flame. A thin man, missing half his hair on one side of his head, signaled with his hand for Kelton to hurry. Kelton handed his cloth cloak over and received another made of fur. The man donned Kelton's cloak and moved toward the door.

"Goddess be with you," the man said and left after lifting the hood over his face.

"We'll wait a moment," Jutney said between deep breaths. "This time we move slower, you watching my hands as before. Stay a good piece back, but keep me in sight." Jutney stood and retrieved another cloak from next to the hearth, replacing his as well.

"Who was that?" Kelton asked.

"A friend. Best if you don't know a name."

"Does he know mine?"

Jutney smirked."I think you just made sure everyone knows your name. News travels fast in a city. Faster if it's interesting."

"It was a bad idea," Kelton repeated, shaking his head.

"You expected different? Some honor the King and Brethren, and others profit from them." Jutney's mind was older than his winters, forced to grow up early Kelton figured. "They never met anyone who can kill a Brother. Goddess sent for some, evil demon to others."

"The killing was a chance thing. I doubt I could kill another." Kelton sighed. "I don't want to kill anyone else, ever again."

"And ruin everything? I mean to be at your side when the warring starts."

"A hero?"

"Aye. I've thought about it a lot," Jutney replied. His eyes became fuller, younger looking.

"Like in stories."

"Aye. You've heard them too."

"Many. Heard them from the best storyteller in Aragonia." Kelton smiled at the memories. "It's not the same though. Killing in stories is clean." Kelton lost his smile and shook his head. "In truth, it's not clean at all. It makes me feel wrong inside."

"Mayhap, it would be different if you had many at your side," Jutney said.

"Mayhap," Kelton said, barely above a whisper and not believing it.

"We should leave now," Jutney said. "Watch my hand," he added as a reminder.

Kelton followed Jutney, staying in the shadows as best he could without being obvious. They weaved between buildings and traveled down roads. They passed some of the King's Own who were preoccupied with a pork vendor. Traveled through crowds and empty streets. No one paid them any heed. Perhaps news of the ruckus Kelton caused didn't move as fast as Jutney thought.

Jutney meandered out between two building, idling away as any young boy tends to do. Kelton pushed himself against the wood wall of one of the buildings when Jutney's hand failed to open. Except for the fist, there was nothing in the boy's movements that indicated he was concerned about anything. He moved toward the far side, kicking at a pile of snow that had been pushed aside a door.

"Boy!" Jutney ignored the first call but turned toward it on the second request. Kelton couldn't see the speaker, but the tone was authoritative. Kelton thought there were three moving as one beyond his vision. He wasn't entirely sure, his senses still fouled by the cities numbers.

"Huh?" Jutney responded. He played ignorant well.

"You been about this evening?"

"Here and there." Jutney added a nod and moved toward the speaker as if he had interest in the request.

"We're looking for someone, red hair, a scar running along his cheek."

"Davit has red hair," Jutney said, pointing down the street. "Had it since he was born."

"Scar?"

"Not on his face, though he tore up his leg." Jutney drew his finger down his left thigh. "Got dragged across a rock and scared it terrible." Kelton was impressed with Jutney's act. Attempting to help, yet useless all the same.

"No," the voice said in exasperation. "This would be someone new. Red hair, a scar, and moving quickly."

"Nay, I've not seen anyone like that." Jutney stepped out of Kelton's view, closer to the voice. "Be there coin in it? I got eyes and can run about looking."

"There's coin if you find..."

"He was there," another voice interrupted. "He serves at Gothrow's tavern. Brought me a mug before it all started."

"Aye, I work there," Jutney said. "I seek coin where I can."

"Then you did see the scarred demon. You know of who I speak."

"Nay, I didn't see anyone like that."

"He was there. Everyone there saw the beast. Why isn't he still there if he desires coin?"

"Why is that?" the voice with authority spoke.

"Let go," Jutney cried out. "I don't know of who you speak. I was sent out early, too many servers, I was told." Kelton drew his waist blade. If they were soldiers, he doubted he could handle three, much less two. He also knew that he couldn't leave Jutney to suffer on his account. Fear rose up his throat, fought with his determination and roiled his stomach. The tavern was the stupidest thing he had ever done. He should never have left Gossamer.

"The tavern was full, not enough servers to go around," a voice argued.

"You play me for a fool!" the authoritative voice said. Jutney groaned. Then yelped when the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin echoed against the buildings. Everything was ruined. The hope of escape, the promise of living faded from Kelton's dreams. He looked down at the small blade shaking in his hand. One knife against swords. He wasn't sure being Unseen would matter much against those odds. He clenched his jaw and dragged himself out onto the street.

A soldier, one of the King's Own, towered over Jutney. One hand grasping the boy's upper arm, the other swinging across Jutney's face. The boy tried to block, but the man was too powerful. The sound was a sickening thud, throwing Jutney's face to the side, blood spraying from his nose and spotting the dirty snow below. A short, stocky soldier off to the left of Jutney smiled at the scene. A clean-shaven man, not wearing a uniform, winced at the action and took a step back.

Anger overwhelmed Kelton's fear. He started running at the soldiers. A woman down the street screamed when he pulled back his hood, releasing his red hair. Animal-like, his growl turned into a scream as he put everything he had into speed.

The stocky soldier froze, indecision claiming his muscles. The non-soldier was backing away, fear commanding his movements. The big man pushed Jutney to the ground and drew his sword. The man's bushy sideburns framed his face, chin to ear. He matched Kelton's growl with one of his own, spital spraying like a rabid dog.

The large soldier moved forward, meeting Kelton with a wild slash to the head. Kelton, sensing the attack, ducked and moved to the side, between the two soldiers. The man was fast and knew how to add his weight to the swing.

Kelton felt the stocky soldier's intent to draw his sword. There was apprehension in the movement, fear. Kelton sidestepped a thrust by the large soldier, turned, and stuck his small blade into the stocky one's sword arm. He had to move quickly, to dodge another slash. The stocky soldier dropped to the ground grasping his wound. Kelton could sense the man's relief as if the injury was an excuse to bow out. It was down to one on one.

"Demon!" the large soldier said as he increased his efforts. Kelton's sense kept him out of the way of the sword, but the man's size and speed made it risky for a small blade to seek an opening. The soldier's reactions were quick, his intent changing like the wind. If Kelton got too close, there would be little time recover from the man's honed combat skills.

Kelton felt the soldier's frustration and anger growing as he quickly dodged each strike. The man overextended on a thrust, allowing Kelton to knick his hand with the tip of his knife. Nothing serious, but enough to infuriate the soldier even more. Kelton found himself in a dance, hoping the man would tire.

Jutney was still on the ground, unmoving. Kelton continued whirling evasiveness, trying to give the boy time to get up and run. Retreat was preferable to committing to a fatal blow. Kelton knew that anything short of a life-threatening strike would probably result in his mortality at risk.

The soldier made a mistake, committing to a chest high wild swing. Kelton knew it was coming. Knew it would leave the man's gut open to a thrust, and an easy retreat. He ducked under the swing and hesitated. The strike would have been the beginning of the end for the soldier. Kelton could have opened the soldier's insides to the world. Instead, he thought of the soldier who had let him out of the nighthouse without issue. Killing felt wrong. Really wrong.

"I don't wish to kill you," Kelton said and took a step back. He knew that it would only be a matter of time. The man was quick, but would eventually make another error as he tired. Fear vanished. Horrible confidence replaced it. It didn't matter how good the soldier was. One-on-one, Kelton was unbeatable against those that could be seen. Even with only a small blade, the end was inevitable. This was how the Brethren felt. Untouchable, powerful, god-like. Kelton's stomach settled along with his mind. It would be like stepping on an insect.

The soldier faltered at Kelton's confident words. He looked at Kelton's blade, his eyes contemplative and less assured then they were a moment ago. Kelton relaxed, lowering his blade knowing well he could avoid any attack by the man. Killing was an option, not the only solution.

The soldier screamed and reached for his thigh. Jutney had used the moment to drive a small blade into the man's leg. Kelton stepped forward as the man raised his sword to strike at Jutney's prone form. The distraction allowed Kelton to move Inside the man's reach. He placed the tip of his small blade under the soldier's chin. Instinctively, the man's free hand grasped Kelton's wrist.

"I don't wish to kill you," Kelton repeated. He rendered the man's sword ineffective as he sidled up close, eye-to-eye, breathing the same air. The soldier used his hand to steady Kelton's, only enough force to restrict the blade from pushing forward, not enough to make Kelton attempt full commitment.

"I don't wish to die, demon." It came out as a snarled capitulation. Kelton could sense the other soldier rising behind him.

"Your friend should remain on the ground," Kelton said. The big soldier's eyes widened at the idea of Kelton knowing without seeing. "I am Unseen and fight like the Brethren. Don't make me kill like them." The soldier dropped his sword. Kelton wasn't sure if it was tactical surrender or fear that made him do it. The stocky soldier was signaled back down to the ground by the large man. Kelton felt the man shift his weight to his good leg.

"I want to step back," Kelton said.

"I've dropped my sword," the soldier said.

"Your arms are weapons enough," Kelton argued. The soldier smirked and released Kelton's wrist, looking as if he had received a compliment. Kelton stepped back, lowering his knife to his side. The man was the same height but twice Kelton's bulk. It amazed Kelton to feel so dominant standing before him.

"You're not so good at being a demon," the soldier said. He leaned down and palmed the wound on his leg, staunching the blood flow.

Kelton shrugged. "Mayhap, I'm not." He looked down at Jutney whose nose was bleeding, a small bloody blade still in his hand. Shaking his head, Kelton warned Jutney not to try and stab the soldier again.

"He broke my nose," Jutney argued, his voice hollow due to clogged nasal passages.

"And you stuck his leg. Having been sewn up before, I question who got the worst of it," Kelton said. The soldier laughed as if they weren't all enemies. People were standing in the road, far enough away not to get involved, but close enough to witness.

"Truce until another day?" Kelton asked as he sheathed his waist blade.

"Aye," the soldier said. Quiet agreement followed from his seated comrade.

"He has ruined me," Jutney said, pointing his small blade at the solider. "I am done here, and you let him live."

"You are ruined either way," Kelton said, indicating the spectators. Jutney could no longer play the innocent in Shunneer City. "Killing him will serve only anger, and I tire of that." That and the thought of killing made his belly churn. He wished to hold on to the contents of his stomach for once.

"Sorry, pup," the soldier said to Jutney. "Never could stand for being made a fool." He shrugged like it was nothing to hit a young boy.

"I'm not a pup," Jutney said, rising to his feet. "I'm the first warrior of The Answer's army." He stood stiff, blood running from his nose around his lips and dirtying his chin. The soldier looked at him, then back to Kelton, his eyes running from head to feet and back again. He shook his head.

"Nay pup, this man has little fight in him. He is skilled, but a leader of killers is not in his face."

"Do not follow," Kelton said as he signaled Jutney that they needed to go. The number of witnesses was growing. He was sure more soldiers were on the way, and possible the Brethren.

"Doubt if I could," the soldier said. "The pup found good muscle with that sticker of his." Jutney smiled, his pride returning. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing as much as removing the blood.

"Good life to you," Kelton said as he followed Jutney toward an alley.

"And to you," the soldier returned, his words trailing off as if he questioned his automatic response. The man sat down on the road to nurse his leg. Kelton smiled. A cordial enemy was something new. Killing wasn't always the solution, and that pleased him.

"Goddess go with you, Answer," a spectator shouted as the two disappeared between the buildings. Kelton rolled his eyes. The truth would never find the right ears. Demon, Answer; he was neither. Gossamer had it right. He was just a boy. Kelton increased his speed to keep up with Jutney who had broken into a run to separate them from the scene.