“I thought you liked a challenge?”

  “I do.” She smiled in spite of herself. Yes, it would be hard – but it was the sort of challenge she relished. “What about you?”

  “Looking forward to it already. Plus, it means we can use those green robes as cover for our grand heist at the market tomorrow.” Raf wasn't bothering to disguise the excitement in his voice; now he was getting back to peak physical form, he was in his element. “Come on, let's get back.”

  His enthusiasm was infectious, and they spent the rest of the day sparring in the courtyard, laughing and joking in the lulls between bouts of energetic fighting. They completely forgot to get lunch and came inside only when darkness began to fall, to the evident amusement of their landlord. After another hearty dinner they went to bed, still buzzing with adrenaline but physically tired enough to fall easily into a deep sleep.

  Raf shook Eleanor awake the next morning – caught by surprise, she lashed out and was trying to wrestle him to the ground before she woke up sufficiently to realise what was actually happening.

  “Sorry!” she cried, releasing her grip. “I'm so jumpy. And I was always first to wake up at school, I'm not used to people touching me while I'm asleep...”

  “You shouldn't waste your energy,” he said, smiling, and threw her green robe onto her bed. “We've got a busy day.”

  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Did we make a plan?”

  “Enough of one, don't you think? Today, money. Tomorrow, back to the tower. And then – run. Easy.”

  “Easy,” she repeated. Easy was the one thing it was unlikely to be. “Don't we need to think it through in a bit more detail, though?”

  “Ellie.” His voice was firm. “You're obsessed with details. We need to get this done, so let's just do it. Trust yourself, okay?”

  “Okay.” She turned to pull on her robe, hoping he wouldn't sense her continued uncertainty.

  The green robes were cut to a different style than the red, and fitted slightly less well but it would have to do. It was only for one day – for one theft – and then they could return to the relative safety of the red disguise. Pretending to be a religious adherent of any kind was hard enough – Branav had been right, silence was a big advantage for them.

  Eleanor's mind filled with worries as they made their way towards the market. They had no plan, and though Raf had obtained her pendant by taking advantage of some unpredictable chance she wasn't sure they'd be so lucky twice. Besides, to work together they both needed to spot the same opportunity.

  They turned between two rows of crowded market stalls, pressing amongst the throng and quickly noticing that today they were not jostled in the same way as the other shoppers. Indeed, space opened up around them as they moved deeper into the market, and many people even averted their eyes. Something about this uniform made them objects to be avoided.

  As they turned the next corner Raf lurched sideways and fell to his knees, clutching first at the sleeve of Eleanor's robe and then, as he collapsed to the ground, seizing the corner of tablecloth which trailed from a nearby grocery cart. Eleanor's stunned reaction was genuine – but as the cascade of fruits began to tumble and roll towards the next stall, she suddenly understood what he was doing. A grocery cart wouldn't have much money, but the clothes stall beyond it looked expensive and – suddenly – abandoned. She stepped quickly across and dipped her hand into the cash box, intent on scooping as much money as she could into the purse she wore beneath her robe.

  She turned back to Raf, ready to run, but his was no longer the only green-robed body in sight. In addition to his prone form on the ground, two others knelt beside him. As she watched they lifted him, muttering incomprehensibly to one another. One of them cast a glance in her direction, motioned sharply for her to follow, and then they were off – striding quickly through the streets, the crowds parting ahead of them. She hurried to keep a pace behind them as they walked swiftly to the same building where she'd previously seen the snake ritual.

  The door was still locked, but one of the men had a key and ushered them inside. The other man took Raf's limp body and laid him in the middle of the room, then barked a command at Eleanor and indicated a door which led from the back of the hall.

  She didn't know what was expected of her – she'd worried about her ignorance in trying to imitate these people, but this was beyond the worst scenario she'd envisioned. She didn't dare hesitate, but strode across the room and let herself through the door. She breathed a sigh of relief when it clicked closed behind her; at least this gave her a moment to think.

  Her relief was short lived, though, when she realised she was standing at the edge of a small pit full of snakes. She swallowed hard, and wondered whether they were dangerous. On the plus side, there was now very little question as to what she was supposed to do: the room contained only the snake pit, and to her left a large wicker basket.

  Simple, she told herself. Snake into basket, basket through to where Raf was – she hoped – still pretending to be dead. After that, they'd just have to take things as they came. She reached down towards the nearest snake, which rose up and hissed into her face; when she tried to touch it, it hissed more loudly then turned and slithered out of reach.

  She tried a couple of different ones but none of them seemed to want picking up, and they slipped all too easily from her grasp. Maybe they knew she wanted to put them in the basket.

  She picked up the basket and laid it on its side at the edge of the pit; as one slithering mass, the snakes retreated. Eleanor stepped warily into the pit, convinced now that the snakes were more scared of her than she was of them, and pushed the basket further towards them. She kept inching forwards, then picked up a handful of sand and threw it, scattering it over their heads and sending them into a panic as they tried to avoid the falling grains. She felt the basket move beneath her hand and scooped it up as fast as she could. It was heavy; her plan had worked.

  With the snake still writhing inside the basket, she clambered out of the pit and let herself back into the hall. The two men had vanished, leaving Raf lying in the middle of the floor, and Eleanor put the basket down and rushed to his side.

  “It's me,” she whispered. “Don't move, I don't know if they're watching us.”

  In spite of her warning he sat bolt upright. “I don't care, we can run faster than them. Come on!” He jumped to his feet, grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the door; they heard footsteps on the stairs as they left but it was too late for caution.

  They sprinted through the streets until they were close enough to the tavern to worry about being followed, then pressed themselves into the recess of an abandoned doorway and waited for nightfall before creeping back.

  “That was close,” Raf said once they were safely back in their room. But there was a glint of excitement in his eyes.

  “Too close.”

  He shrugged. “We did it, didn't we? We didn't even have to fight.”

  “I had to fight those stupid snakes! And I don't even know why I bothered – how soon did they leave you?”

  “It went quiet just before you came in. I couldn't see anything, they pulled that blasted hood right over my eyes – I wasn't sure they'd gone until you said.”

  They fell into silence for a moment, then Eleanor brought out the purse she'd filled. “I think this should be enough,” she said. “At least – I really hope so.”

  Raf lay back on his bed and flicked a throwing star casually towards the ceiling; he'd borrowed it to practise with and he was slowly improving. This time it caught the wood, but didn't sink in deeply enough and he had to roll out of the way as it fell again.

  “We should go at night,” he said, flicking the star upwards again. “They won't be expecting us, anyway – they'll assume we've done the sensible thing and already left the city – but we don't want to be seen.”

  “Tomorrow night, then? Not tonight.”

  “No, not tonight.” He reached up for the star, which had lodged properly this time. “We'll rest tonight, sleep as late as we can, make sure we eat well... all that.”

  “Sleep sounds good.” Eleanor yawned. “I'm tired. Don't you ever wish you'd just accepted your assignment?”

  “No.” He thought for a moment. “I mean, I'd never have accepted the assignment they actually gave me, whatever it was – that's the point, isn't it? I'd never settle for that and they know it.”

  “You're so certain about everything. So confident.” She wondered what he'd make of the envy in her tone. “I nearly settled for what they gave me, even though I knew it wasn't right. I didn't know whether to believe all this. I didn't really believe it till I met you, and even then, sometimes...”

  “Sometimes what?”

  “Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing. If I'm supposed to be doing this.”

  He sat up to face her. “Ellie, you're being daft. You're doing fine, and the day after tomorrow we're going to go home and get back on track properly. It's time you stopped worrying.”

  “Okay.” She blew out the lamp and curled under her blanket. It was easy for him to say 'stop worrying'; nothing seemed to worry him. But she was somewhat reassured by his confidence in her. “Good night.”

  The next day, after wasting as much daylight as they could, they started getting ready to go out. They both arranged their weapons about their persons before pulling the red robes over their heads, and Eleanor tucked her pendant safely inside her sock.

  Once they were ready they explained to the landlord – whose name they'd never learnt – that they were leaving. If everything went according to plan they'd find a boat ready to sail from the city as soon as they were done, and it would waste valuable time if they had to come back for anything. They settled their debts easily, and Eleanor stashed the remaining money in a pouch out of sight at her waist.

  The night was pitch black and navigation was difficult in the dark; although they'd been out and about in the city a little, they hadn't been back as far as the castle and it took them a couple of attempts before they were sure they were looking up at the right tower.

  “Certain?” Raf checked. “We don't want to end up doing this more than once.”

  “Pretty certain,” Eleanor said. But they couldn't even see the top of the tower through the darkness.

  They took off their disguises and strapped the folded robes to their backs – if they were caught creeping around inside the castle then pretending to be monks probably wouldn't help, and it would certainly make the climb a lot harder.

  The lower section was as easy to climb up as it had been to come down, apart from negotiating the overhang of the roof. The roof-tiles were cold and a little slippery, but presented no major obstacle, and before long they'd crawled along the ridge of the roof until they could touch the smooth stones of the tower itself.

  Slowly and carefully, feeling for hand-holds in the dark, they began the climb. It was just as tricky as they'd anticipated, made more so by the darkness and the cold of the night. But eventually, with no damage more serious than scraped fingers and aching arm muscles, they reached the ledge beneath the cupola.

  After a moment's rest, sitting with their legs dangling over the edge, Eleanor got up to try the door. It was locked, but a little investigation proved it was a simple lock, and a moment later they were inside.

  With every step they tried to move in silence, glad that their leather-soled boots weren't riveted, every ounce of concentration focused on making as little noise as possible. They crept down the stairs, and smiled awkwardly at each other by the flickering lamplight as they emerged into the corridor they recognised all too well – relieved to be in the right place, but unable to quite block out the horrors they'd faced here. Raf reached across and squeezed Eleanor's hand, and she squeezed back, fighting against the tears which threatened to escape her eyes.

  Each door they opened was a risk, they were afraid they'd end up in some guard-room or someone's bedroom, but it seemed that this part of the castle was genuinely deserted at night and they relaxed a little as they progressed. It took them a couple of attempts before they found the right room – a small office, with a pile of golden bangles at one corner of the desk.

  Eleanor picked them up, sorted through for her own and clipped it firmly into place, fastening it above her elbow so that it wouldn't be visible, then started looking through the others for Raf's name.

  “V-N-five-nine-F-six-two-E-Y-G... is this you?” she checked, reading from one of the bracelets. He nodded, and she handed it across to him. “What do you think we should do with the others?”

  He held out his hand. “We'll take them back with us. The Association needs to know what's happened here.”

  She passed them across and he tucked them into his pocket, as she picked up everything that looked like it could be valuable.

  “Okay, let's get out of here.”

  “Wait... while we're here... I'd quite like to get my knife back.” She'd been hoping their captors would have stored everything in the same place – that would have made it much easier.

  “I know it's special to you, Ellie, but finding one knife in a building this size is going to be tricky. And what if someone's using it?”

  “Oh, I know.” She tried to force a casual tone onto her voice. “I wasn't going to search every guard, but it might still be in the torture chamber. I just want to have a look.”

  Finding the torture chamber was easy; they'd been taken there enough times. Eleanor hesitated briefly as her hand reached the door handle, the fingers of her other hand tightening on the hilt of her dagger. She could rationalise, tell herself repeatedly that there was no more danger in this room than any of the others, but her heart still thumped in her chest and she knew that part of her would never believe it was safe.

  She took a deep breath and pushed the door. The room was deserted and dark, just the furnace in the corner glowing with a faint red light. Raf unhooked one of the lanterns from its bracket in the corridor and followed her, the swaying lamp casting distorted shadows across the room.

  “I can hold this for you,” he said. “Just tell me where you want to look first.”

  She felt guilty for keeping him here, sure that the memories this room evoked were no more pleasant for him than they were for her, but she couldn't leave without her knife. What would Laban say? And besides, the beauty of that knife was the only reason she'd even stepped onto this path – if she hadn't held that perfectly balanced blade, if she hadn't possessed the skill to throw it with such accuracy, she'd be bored out of her mind in the Port's police force right now. Again she wondered if that would have been better; boredom was seldom fatal. But oh, how dull it would have been.

  Raf had started scouting the room as she stood distracted by her thoughts.

  She scanned the top of the shelf from which, she was sure, she'd once seen the short man retrieve her knife. A few rusty nails, some thumbscrews... a work of art like her knife would have stood out in such company, and it didn't. Her heart sank. Maybe one of the guards was indeed using it as his own, though the thought angered her – none of them deserved it.

  As she turned to examine the next surface, however, a sparkle of green caught her eye and she cleared aside a small pile of iron tools to reveal the bejewelled hilt of the blade she knew so well. She pulled it out and held it aloft in delight: “Got it!”

  “Great!” He sounded genuinely pleased, though she suspected that was mostly because she'd now be willing to leave.

  They went out the way they'd come in, and though the climb down the slick tower wall was no easier they were growing more confident as they learned where the best holds were to be found. They stopped atop the peaked roof to put their disguises back on before sliding down the last easy stretch of wall into the street.

  “To the harbour, then?” Eleanor asked, excitement bubbling at the idea of getting home and pushing on with their quest. It had been a lengthy and painful diversion, but it would all be worthwhile once they were back in the Empire.

  “Shh,” Raf hushed her, a little half-heartedly. There was no-one around to worry about whether silent monks were speaking.

  She tucked a few stray hairs safely out of sight beneath her hood, and started down the steep alley which sloped towards the sea. They'd taken only about a dozen steps when an unexpected noise made them both freeze.

  Raf reached for his knife but they were upon him before he could wrench the dagger from its sheath – two broad-shouldered giants who dwarfed his skinny frame. One of them lifted him easily two feet into the air and shook him, shouting something in Tarasanka. Eleanor flattened herself against the nearest wall and felt beneath her robe for her throwing stars, hoping they wouldn't notice her until it was too late.

  Her first star sliced across the throat of the guard who was holding Raf, causing him to drop his prisoner as he collapsed onto the cobblestones. Raf stumbled to his feet, dagger in hand now, and lunged towards the remaining guard but the gigantic man deflected the blow all too easily and lodged his own blade between Raf's ribs.

  “Raf!” The scream ripped from Eleanor's throat against her will as she watched him fall, the anguish of everything they'd suffered together filling her voice. She wanted to run to him, but the guard was turning his attention away from the fallen bodies and she knew with grim certainty where his focus would fall next.

  She fumbled with another star, shaking with nervous energy, feeling sick with fear for herself and for Raf. She couldn't let the guard get close to her; she'd stand no chance hand-to-hand against a man of this size, and he was clearly pulling no punches. This time, no-one cared to keep them alive.

  She flicked the star from between her fingers; it was a good shot, but not quite good enough, ripping into his shoulder without slowing him. He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her, his other hand ready with the dagger. She kicked at his arm, twisted desperately so that his blade glanced away from her, and somehow managed to plunge her stiletto into the side of his neck.

 

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