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  Her bag? Her bag with all her money? Icy comprehension crept down her spine: these two were thieves, and she had given them quite a show. She slid her hand to the knife at her thigh. “No.”

  “Yenni! Yenni Ajani!” Diedre’s frantic voice was fainter than before, farther away. Yenni debated calling out to her again, but it was Yenni’s own silly fault she was in this mess, and she was loathe to drag Diedre into danger too.

  “Suit yourself,” said the thief. He took his hand out from behind his back and made a fist in front of his chest. Metal gleamed faintly in the weak light of the lamppost across the street. He wore some kind of weapon that had wicked spikes jutting out from his knuckles. Yenni gasped as a hot, sharp pain seized her stomach.

  The rune . . . Mothers and Fathers, these men mean to kill me!

  If only she had her spear! It would have been perfect for keeping them at bay in such a narrow space. But, alas, she did not, so she pulled her knife free and flipped it up, backing up against the wall. Though her instincts screamed to avoid being cornered, her logic told her not to let one of them get behind her.

  “Careful, Felix,” said the other thief, who now leaned against the wall on her right. “Seems the little mageling has some skill with that knife.”

  Someone dropped from the roof of the pub on her left, landing in the alley with a thud. Another Creshen man with limp hair and a cold smile crouched behind the one advancing on her. “Is that right, Louis?” said the newcomer, rising. He flipped a knife into his palm. “Maybe she can teach me a thing or two, en?” They laughed, and Yenni started when she realized another voice had joined the three in the alley. She darted her eyes upward and caught a fourth thief crouched among the shadows of the roof to her right. Four of them against one of her. If she gave them her money, would they let her go?

  As if in answer, the rune on her stomach blazed again, sending another sharp, burning sensation through her skin. No, she had seen their faces and knew their names. They would not let her leave this alley alive.

  “Diedre!” she finally shouted, praying her friend would hear. The men with the weapons advanced slowly, cruelly, toying with her.

  Good.

  If they were underestimating her, she had the element of surprise. Still, her shaking as they closed in was not feigned. She had one chance, one shot to get free. She could not die here, fail here, in this alley leagues away from home.

  Father Gu, lend me your warrior’s heart.

  Their weapons glinted dully in the dimness of the alley, and their steps were slow and echoing, louder than the muted twang of the Creshen music coming from the pubs, louder than her thudding pulse.

  “What do you plan to do with that knife, en?” said the one with the bladed knuckles. “Clean a chicken?”

  Closer, just let them get a little closer.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, and they laughed. She pulled ach’e, feeling it rush through her veins and tingle on her skin.

  “Source to light and here remain!”

  Light exploded into the alley, bright against her closed eyelids, and the thieves screamed. Yenni pulled on the speed runes on her legs, then her arms. She ducked and dodged around two of the thieves, then slashed at the tendons behind their knees.

  The two of them hollered and the steely stink of blood filled the air. Before they could hit the ground Yenni was rushing for the third thief, the one who stood blinking against the left wall. Pulling on her strength rune, she put her hand to his face and slammed his head against the brick. He slumped to the pavement.

  She spun, ignoring the groans and curses flying at her. Where was the fourth man? Nowhere she could see, and the way out of the alley was clear. She dashed for the exit.

  “Source as twine to bind my foe!”

  Yenni stumbled. Her legs tried to stick together while her arms felt as if they were being pushed against her body. Oh, unholy shadows, even a petty Creshen thief could cast Fenton’s Body Bind? She’d been struggling for weeks with that spell!

  He couldn’t cast it well, apparently, as she could still move, albeit very slowly, as if walking through mud. She flared her strength runes and speed runes, desperately staggering toward the mouth of the alley. She glanced back at a noise from behind and found the first thief on his hands and knees, crawling after her with his teeth bared in pain, growling like a wild dog.

  “Jean, you rat prick!” shouted the other thief as he stumbled to his feet. “Get down here!”

  “He’s long gone,” growled the first through his teeth. “I told you this would happen. I never trusted him, not from day one.”

  Yenni could feel her runes fading, but the mouth of the alley was straight ahead. She just needed to get inside one of the pubs, where there were crowds of people—so close but so oblivious to her plight.

  Her speed and strength runes gave out, and the sluggish weight of her body seemed to double. Yenni gritted her teeth, throwing all her will into each dragging step, sweat sliding down her back even as the sounds of the thieves behind her grew closer. But the street was right there, right there!

  “Someone! Diedre!” she screamed, knowing deep down it would do no good. No one had heard all the commotion so far, not with the two pubs’ music competing. And poor Diedre had disappeared in the other direction. A hand clamped around her leg and pulled. Yenni stumbled but managed to keep her feet. She looked down into the hateful eyes of the first thief she’d maimed. “Island bitch,” he spat, and pulled again. Yenni’s arm burned with exertion as she struggled and failed to raise her knife.

  Something thudded into the alley in front of her.

  Yenni whipped her head around in time to see another Creshen man rushing at her with a blade.

  “Get her, Jean!” shouted the thief farther down the alley. He hobbled toward them using the wall for support.

  Yenni tried to think of some spell, any spell that would help her, but too soon the thief Jean was on her, grabbing her by the front of her mage’s coat. His blue eyes burned into hers from above a kerchief wrapped around his face.

  Mothers and Fathers, forgive my failure and receive my spirit.

  She yelped as his knife nicked her left shoulder, then her right one, so sharp it cut right through her coat. Two more quick slashes on the left and right side of her torso and her satchel fell free. He grabbed it.

  “Source-fueled leap to mimic flight!” he shouted and then jumped clean up into the air. His ratty coat flapped around him as he disappeared onto the roof with her bag.

  “Jean!” bellowed the thief back in the alley, but the other one gave Yenni’s leg one great yank and she tumbled. She couldn’t put out her arms to break her fall, and her shoulder smacked painfully into the pavement. The thief dragged himself over her, grabbed her hair, and slammed her head into the ground. Pain bloomed from the back of her skull, spreading into her teeth and jaw. By instinct she pulled on her pain wards otherwise she may well have fainted.

  “How should I repay you, en?” said the thief. The stale stink of his breath made Yenni want to gag. Her head ached, and her pulse made a loud thudding in her ears. The thief held the blades of his knuckle weapon in front of her eyes. “You like blinding people? Maybe I’ll blind you, bitch.”

  “There from me by source repelled!”

  Yenni saw the thief’s eyes go wide and a split moment later he went flying toward the back of the alley, pushed by an incredible force.

  “Yenni!”

  Diedre’s beautiful face hovered above hers. “Come on!” She pulled Yenni to her feet, supporting her as she swayed and blinked back white lights at the edges of her vision.

  “Diedre,” Yenni groaned.

  “Yenni! What—ah!” Diedre screamed and jerked against Yenni. Cruel laughter rose above the muffled pub music. One last thief continued to hobble toward them, hugging the alley wall. Diedre breathed heavily, her braids falling across her fac
e and a knife sticking out of her shoulder. She turned back to face the thug, rage in her eyes.

  “Sleep by source, wake no time soon,” she snarled.

  A thick, heavy blanket of ach’e coated the air. The thief on the wall slumped to the ground in a dead faint, as did his friend, whom Diedre had sent flying. Yenni’s own eyes went heavy, her legs weak.

  “No, no, no, not you, mams!” said Diedre, her voice hoarse with pain. She shook Yenni. “Fight it! The spell is not that strong, it only worked on those guys because they lost so much blood already!”

  Yenni clung to Diedre and did her best to shake off the grogginess, but it was so hard to move, to think.

  “Come on, Yenni!” Diedre pleaded. “I can’t carry you on my own an’ I don’t want to leave you! Gohad’s Forced Sleep is an advanced spell and I’m not the best at it. They could wake up any time!”

  “I am trying,” Yenni slurred, and she wasn’t sure if she was speaking Creshen or Yirba. Her pulse fluttered in her ears.

  “Yenni—oh! Watch’Ahmighty!”

  Dimly, Yenni was aware of another body dropping into the alley ahead of them. Her stomach plunged and she felt sick with dread—more members of the thieves’ gang?

  A deep, rage-filled roar, like nothing she’d ever heard before, dwarfed the alley. Yenni snapped her head up, the loud noise blasting away her sleepiness. At the sight at the mouth of the alley she let out a sob of relief. He crouched with steam hissing from his nostrils and fire sparking behind his bared teeth, dark and deadly, like some demon beast from the shadows.

  Dragon.

  16

  Kill, kill, kill.

  The instinct gripped him, commanded him from the moment he’d caught Yenni’s scent below, rancid with fright. It may as well have been an alarm.

  He’d arced right in the sky, shooting after it, his friends screeching after him. Now the scent stung his nose, along with the unclean stink of what looked to be a band of street thugs, and the only thing keeping him from blasting the whole alley with fire was his Given. She stood embracing another woman, the two of them watching him, wide eyed. Movement at the back of the alley drew Weysh’s attention. He stalked past the women, who pressed up against the alley wall to let him pass. Weysh crouched, growling, over the weakly thrashing body of a greasy thug and held him down with one sharp claw. The man opened his eyes.

  “Oh shit,” he whimpered. “Oh hells!”

  A strong whiff of urine accosted Weysh’s nose. He longed to run his talons down the goon’s body. Just one swipe, through his clothes, through his skin and fat and muscle, and all his useless guts would come tumbling out.

  “No, Weysh. You can’t kill him. You’ll be charged.”

  Zui’s voice, as if she knew what he was thinking. He hadn’t even noticed when she and Harth had landed.

  “Yeah! You can’t kill us!” This from another thug, slumped in a sitting position in the right corner of the alley among empty crates.

  “Oh shut up,” Zui snapped at him. “Source as twine to bind my foe.”

  Zui handily incapacitated all the thieves with magic. Legal, but nowhere near as satisfying as ripping them apart.

  Weysh changed and brought his face close to the thug’s, even though he smelled like an outhouse. He didn’t say a word as he punched the man hard in the stomach, but smiled as he curled up, moaning and wheezing.

  “Weysh,” Zui said without conviction. She shook her head as she and Harth helped the women to the ground.

  “If he didn’t do it, I would have,” Harth said behind him. “Shit eater,” he spat at the thug. “Are you two ladies—there’s a dagger protruding from your shoulder, mam’selle!”

  “Yes, I know,” Yenni’s friend groaned.

  “Harth, find the peacekeepers. These two need to get to a healing hospice.”

  “Right,” said Harth. He changed and took off.

  “And stop struggling!” Zui shouted suddenly at thieves. “If you break my body bind I’ll have no choice but to eat you.”

  The thieves went still. Weysh loped over to Yenni’s side and took her hand in both of his. “Lovely?” He felt as helpless as a child. Byen, he could smell her blood! Had she been stabbed?

  “I’m fine,” she said and attempted to push herself upright, but Zui gently held her down. “How is Diedre?” Yenni asked, and Weysh clenched his teeth at the weak breathiness of her voice.

  “I’ll live,” her friend replied from on the ground beside her, but her eyes were closed and she was breathing hard through her pain.

  “Thank you, Diedre, for saving me,” said Yenni.

  Weysh glanced between the two of them. Looked back at the thieves and the blood-soaked alley. “What on Byen’s hallowed soil happened here?” he cried.

  Yenni briefly recounted how she’d ended up in a dark and secluded alley in the pub district and been attacked.

  “Four against one and you did this much damage?” A bubble of pride swelled through the haze of Weysh’s rage, fear, and disgust. “That’s my girl.”

  “I’m not your anything,” she muttered, but to Weysh it seemed quite halfhearted.

  “But, lovely, if you needed to find Augustin that badly, why didn’t you simply ask me to sniff him out for you?”

  “I did not think of that,” she admitted. A sinking feeling took hold of Weysh’s insides. She didn’t ask him because she didn’t trust him. It didn’t even occur to her that he could help her.

  Suddenly Yenni attempted to sit up again.

  “You should rest, Yenni Ajani. Relax until the peacekeepers arrive and take you to a healer,” said Zui.

  “I have no time to visit a healer,” she replied, fighting off Zui’s gentle hand. “One of the thieves escaped with all my money. I have to find him!”

  “En? What do you mean someone has all your money?” Weysh asked Yenni.

  “I had it in my back-satchel. He cut it right from my shoulders and used some spell to jump onto the roof and get away. I have nothing left,” she whispered.

  “Movay’s name, woman! What were you doing walking around the city with all your bank?”

  “Thank you!” her friend beside her exclaimed weakly, her eyes still closed tight.

  Yenni shot Weysh a hard look. “I needed to eat. How was I to know how much I would need?”

  “Well, how much did you lose?” asked Zui.

  “More than a thousand duvvies. I’m not exactly sure.”

  Zui and Weysh were flabbergasted. “A thousand—Watcher above! You came out to buy dinner with over a thousand duvvies?” Weysh studied her closely. “Your father must be a very rich merchant, en?”

  “Oh . . . yes,” she said.

  Weysh got to his feet and stalked over to the thug who lay slumped against the back corner of the alley. His long, greasy hair was stuck to his face with sour sweat. Weysh crouched down before the man, unsmiling. “Where is he?” he said simply.

  Weysh could tell the man would have been shaking if he wasn’t so thoroughly constricted by Zui’s body bind spell. “I don’t know,” said the thug. “By Byen I don’t know. He double-crossed us. Please, I don’t want to die here.”

  Weysh curled his lip up at the cretin. “The only reason you’re not a smoking pile of ash right now,” he said, and pointed back at Yenni, “is because of her. You will tell the peacekeepers everything you know.”

  The thug nodded weakly. “Yeah. I want to see Jean get what’s coming to him as bad as you, en?”

  Weysh scoffed as he got to his feet, and it was an effort to hold back from kicking the weasel. He went back to the women.

  “I doubt they’ll be much help,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “What if you track him?” asked Yenni.

  “I’m so sorry, lovely, but it’s not that simple. His scent will be incredibly difficult to follow.”

/>   “And yet you’re always able to find me,” she said, her tone slightly accusatory.

  “One, you’re my Given.” Her friend Diedre made a shocked little noise at that. “Your scent is like a beacon, stronger than anyone’s. Two, I’m not a bloodhound. Tracking a stranger’s scent through the muck of the city when they’ve already gotten a head start? It’s basically impossible but—you said he has your bag?”

  “Yes.”

  Weysh nodded. “I might be able to work with that. It’s not the same as tracking you, but it’s something.”

  “Thank you, Weh-sheh.”

  Weysh’s chest went tight at how small and tired her voice came out. It was very lucky indeed that he’d found her. In fact, he had planned to visit his parents that night. After spending the day thinking, and planning, and combing his brain, he could only come up with one possible way to help Yenni stay at Prevan. Something he deeply, desperately did not want to do. But for her, he would swallow his pride. And so, after tracking practice, he’d planned to stop briefly at pub street with the other dragons for some liquid courage before doing what he must. And good thing he had.

  “I hate to leave you, but the longer I wait, the colder the trail, so I’d better get started. I trust you have things under control, Zui. Once everything settles down could you or Harth find Augustin?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then I’m off.” Weysh exited the alley and changed. Then he took to the skies, in search of the unlucky rat prick who’d robbed his Given.

  Once the peacekeepers apprehended the thieves they took Yenni and Diedre to a healing hospice, where Creshen women in blue, wide-brimmed bonnets ushered them into a cozy room with two beds, one lantern, and one window. A Creshen healer checked Yenni’s hearing and vision and pronounced her fit, explaining her exhaustion as the result of extended use of magic and trauma from the night’s events. They patched Diedre up as well, and then a peacekeeper returned to ask them question upon question, making sketches of the thieves based on their answers. It turned out the band of thugs were fairly notorious for attacking people in the pub district of late, and so Yenni’s and Diedre’s actions were ruled self-defense on the spot, and they faced no charges.