“Why is it wet?” I lifted my foot and shivered in the waning light as I looked at the standing water forming a thin film over the brick road, stretching from one end of the street to the other. Quinn shot me an almost amused look, then shook his head.

“Drainage problems, kid,” He shook his head. “The pipework below Jovial have been clogged since as long as I remember.”

“How long is that?”

He let out a quick sigh, less in exasperation and more in deep thought. We stood at the mouth of a darkened alley; in the yellow glow of a tall street lamp I could see darkened store fronts and poorly painted signs indicating their purpose. The defeated murmur of ragtag citizens provided a dismal ambiance to our muted conversation and the despair of the situation was more than evident. Quinn took a pause for a moment, his breath manifesting tangible form in the cool night air. 

“I was a tad younger than you,” He said solemnly. “A good fifteen years then.”

“And it’s never been fixed, in all this time?”

“The High Lady is more interested in her war with Axock,” Quinn said, venom tainting his words. “But in some ways, it is difficult to hold her to blame for such. That man, Stephan Lavoric, a monster surely and his son is even worse. I could tell you the tale of Plum, and that’d try your nerves for sure.”

“Plum?” I did my best to steady my voice and keep my show of interest to a minimum, but my heart began to race. Plum. I could remember her, the timid little girl from the airship, the girl in the cage. The girl who had died. Died because of me. 

“Aye, Plum. The girl we sent to Axock to share her know with us. Lavoric’s son took her hand, his daughter nearly saw her dead. She barely made her way here, a bloody mess, not a clue where she was. She lives, of course, but that’s another matter.”

“She lives?” It came as a whisper as Quinn looked to me, puzzled. 

“Did you know her?”

“Mr. Mallory,” a voice in the darkness called out from behind us; one of Quinn’s henchmen. “The Valorant is docked at the tertiary spire. We ought make our way to the rendezvous. I’ve word from Melina that someone’s been asking after Old Jaf. Someone with money.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Quinn smirked. “Well, we are short on time, but I suppose we ought put down that loose end before it gets any looser.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” The man grunted.

“Well, Allie,” Quinn tipped his hat. “We’ll take our leave then.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to leave anyone behind to rescue me from this ‘distraction’,” I looked at him in resignation as he shook his head. 

“Apologies, Allie,” He smiled. “Sacrifices must be made.”

“For food,” I said, trying to hide my anger. “You’ll leave me to them for a bit of food.”

“For the greater good,” He corrected me. “Besides, should you run quickly, you might just make it. I doubt it though, Old Jaf hires some splendid help.”

Quinn placed a hand on my left shoulder, gave me a twisted smile, and then pushed me from the mouth of the alley, into the street. My shoes splashed against the soaked brick as I stumbled backward, doing a partial spin as I faced a passing cart pulled by an emaciated-looking horse. I stumbled out of the way as it passed, looking upward at the painted wooden sides, a colorful logo advertising the sale of some miracle product that probably didn’t work. As it passed an array of sensations assaulted me; the scent of human excrement accompanied by the sound of rushing water from the sewer trains set into the sides of the road, capped with rusting covers that bore the Auglire crest. The street was set in a slight downhill grade, twisting through towering mismatched buildings that were now blanketed by the darkness of night. Each structure did its part to push back the growing darkness with the air of candle-lit window panes that glowed yellow in defiance; a warmth that didn’t extend to the chilly dampened streets that began to close in around me as I folded my arms across my chest, hugging myself to keep warm. The cart wheels clattered away, becoming increasingly distant as I made my way down the street, dampness soaking into my chemise and overdress while the eyes of passers by followed my movements. Each person I passed had one thing in common; they were dressed in rags or threadbare coats or dresses. I stuck out like a sore thumb in my freshly washed dress, even more so that it retained is brighter color. My clean hair and skin likely didn’t help either. Wouldn’t it have been nice if Quinn had let me roll around in the mud before tossing me out here? No, that was probably the point.

I transitioned from the street to another alley, passing between two buildings and squeezing past a poorly placed refuse bin as I pushed deeper into the darkness. Quinn had dropped me here for a reason; he’d said that Old Jaf hired the best people and there was more than a strong chance I’d been spotted already. I was a problem: a girl who knew the location of some stupid warehouse in the armpit of Auglire. A loose end that needed to be tied up. I thought about this, and as I came to a cross-section between buildings, I tried my best not to think about the fact that I would never see Sheena again. Sheena; the woman who had made me her sister, the woman who had seen potential in me where there as none. How I had failed her. If I had just listened to her then I could be sitting in the servant quarters right now, pouting on my bed and complaining to Jenise about how I’d been wronged. Instead I was here, tucked away, lost in the looming back alleys of Auglire’s Jovial district, ready to be snatched up at any moment. Then, suddenly my thoughts were interrupted.

I felt it before I saw it; the sensation of eyes looking in my direction and then from the corner of my eye I saw the cloaked figure sulking in the shadows behind me. So they’d found me. Already. What did Quinn expect to happen? Of course, he’d thrown me into a main thoroughfare wearing clean clothing, ensuring that I’d draw massive amounts of attention. There was little doubt that Old Jaf’s people had seen me, and even littler doubt that the word had spread. People were coming for me, maybe even lots of them. Whoever was behind me, it was the first of many. No. I wouldn’t let them catch me.

I broke into a run, chemise slapping against my bare legs as I rounded a corner, accompanied only by the damp chilled air and the sound of my feet slapping against the bricks. My heavy, erratic breathing soon joined the cadence; Miach Lavoric may have been in fantastic shape at one point, but Lyra had put him through the ringer with her lack of attention to exercise. Maybe I should work on that. I passed another alley as I delved deeper into the decrepit back streets, my foot smashed against a rotting head of lettuce, and as I move forward, I leapt back in surprise as I stumbled over a sleeping man, who glared at me from below with sunken eyes, snarling with a mouthful of rotting teeth. He barked something at me about finding my own alley to sleep in, and I turned, running in the opposite direction without even uttering a word of apology. As I stood at the mouth of another intersection, I peered into the darkness while filthy water from a gushing pipe pooled around my feet, sending a chill up my spine as my teeth began to violently chatter. I could barely make put the shapes in the darkness, two men in narrowly brimmed caps and motorcar coats making their way in my direction through a billowing cloud of steam rising from sewer grates and filling the alley with heavily varied gradients of white, illuminated weakly by the moonlight overhead. Two more. Two more men coming for me. The cloaked figure further back, these two approaching from the side. I would be surrounded in minutes. Panic set in as I turned and bolted back down the alley in the direction of the sleeping man. The hem of my dress was soaked, the material clinging to my legs as I shot past the man who shouted another objection in my direction. They were getting closer; I could feel it. To my left, affixed to a building, an iron ladder. I grabbed the first rung and clambered up, the metal shaking and clattering against the brick as I pushed my way upward toward the top of the building. Bounding over the side, I stumbled onto the roof and my feet connected with gravel as I passed beneath an aging billboard advertising some product I didn’t recognize, its message amplified by the image of a scantily clad woman holding a bottle. I ducked beneath the metal supports and skidded across a thick layer of gravel until I found a pile of wooden crates stacked haphazardly and partially obscured by a canvas tarp. I dropped to the ground, sweating profusely, and laid my back against the crates, keeping my ears open to see if I’d been followed. Sure enough, the sound of the wrought iron ladder clanking against the side of the building could be plainly heard in the darkness, and I found myself clenching my fists as footsteps crunched against gravel. 

“You sure she came up here?” A man’s voice asked.

“Sure as shootin’, I did,” A second man confirmed.

“Aye, let’s check over there, Old Jaf wants this one alive. Says Greta let her sneak off she did.”

“Greta’s an idiot,” The second man scoffed.

“You’ll find no argument here. We’ll check the crates by yonder.”

I had chosen my hiding place poorly; there was no chance of escape, unless… 

I looked to the edge of the building; I could use the same trick here, maybe. If my supposed healing abilities worked the same way every time, could I just jump and wait for my body to recover? It would depend: if they saw me, then they could simply pick me up and cart me off to Old Jaf, assuming they knew that I could heal. Then again, would I heal, or would I just die? It would depend on me doing this quietly, no matter what. I rose to my haunches and quietly crept alongside the pile of crates, listening closely for the sound of footsteps that might indicate the men moving in my direction. I heard nothing, so I pushed on, past the crates, rounding the corner and pressing my back to the loose canvas. Ahead of me I could see the edge of the building, perhaps two hundred yards away across a sea of pipes and utility cabinets jutting from the gravel. 

Quickly and quietly, I pushed away from the crates and moved over to the first cabinet, pressing my back against it just as I heard a set of footsteps move past. Had he seen me? A white chemise underneath a bright overdress probably wasn’t difficult to miss even in the darkness, so had I moved fast enough? I sat there listening, my skin tightening as my body tense and my breath held in my swelling chest as I surveyed the area with my head down and my ears open. In the silence, something in the distance caught my eyes; I looked toward the sky and my shivering came to a brief halt as I beheld the sight of a dirigible floating past. A white, rigid bullet shaped mass with a steel undercarriage featuring eight long windows. Was that the airship Quinn had talked about? I shook my head and returned my attention to the current situation; airships and revolutionaries mattered very little to me right now as I was likely about to die, or at the very least spend the rest of my life chained up in some work house. 

Hearing no footsteps, I rose quietly and put one foot in front of the other, back hunched as I made my way toward a jutting steel chimney. Four feet to go. Three. Two- a rough hand encircled my arm and jerked me back. I screamed as the world spun around me and I was thrown to the rooftop, slamming hard against the utility cabinet as pain wracked my body. I pushed myself to my feet and scrambled forward, desperate to make it to the edge of the roof. I had to do it, even if they saw me, I had to do it. I had to get away. Before I could go more than few inches, the hand grabbed me again; the man dragged me across the gravel, back toward the billboard as I screamed and batted wildly with my free hand. My legs kicking, my feet trying to find purchase.

“Let me go!” I shrieked. “Put me down!”

“This one’s got spirit, don’t she?” The man laughed as he tossed me forward, directly into the arms of the other man who gripped my shoulders and and looked into my eyes. I recoiled as I realized that he was missing his entire right eye and a scarred gash ran across it, down his cheek as his expression culminated in a twisted grin. 

“Spirit or not, Old Jaf will see her broken,” The man grinned again. “And we’ll have our fun before that.”

“Aye, that we will,” The other man laughed. 

“Will you then?” A new voice asked. Both men froze and looked in the direction of the ladder where the cloaked figure stood, face obscured and two short blades held in its hands. A female voice. Who was it? My mind raced as the first man dropped me and turned his attention to the figure.

“Who the blazes are you?” He demanded, reaching inside his coat. When his hand withdrew he was holding a long-barred revolver and with a single motion, he raised it, the hammer clicking into place. But the figure was gone; she bolted to the right, jumping onto a crate as gravel spewed across the rooftop where her foot had once rested. The revolver fired, and I yelped in surprise as the bright orange muzzle flash brought with it a shattering crack that broke the night. I could see her form in the air, cloak fluttering behind her as she descended, blade sweeping toward the first man as he raised an arm, blocking the blade with his forearm. To my surprise there was no blood, just the ringing of steel against steel as he pushed her blade aside with a shielded arm. The figure stepped back quickly, dodging a clumsy blow from the second man who lurched forward and was easily dispatched by an expert blow from the woman’s open palm. She skidded between them as the second man fell and the first man leveled his revolver again, firing in her direction but missing entirely while while swept a dagger beneath his arm, slicing him through the abdomen as he screamed in pain. The revolver dropped to the gravel; he staggered backward, grasping desperately at his stomach as blood dripped to the stones. He coughed and sputtered; blood flowed from his mouth and he dropped to his knees, finally falling sideways as the life fled from his body. The cloaked figure stepped to the second man, grabbing him by the lapels of his coat as she pushed him toward the edge of the rooftop. His pleas for mercy were coldly ignored as she drove her dagger into his stomach with her free hand, and then expertly skewered the side of his neck, tearing outward and throwing him from the roof. In stunned silence, I climbed to my feet and staggered backward, nearly tripping over the corpse of the man at my feet. Whoever this cloaked figure was, she had found me before the others. Who was she? Some other mercenary hired by Old Jaf? Someone who wanted to find me first? I had to run, I had to get out of here. Too late: she turned toward me, quickly crossing the rooftop and making her way toward me. Finally, she stood just a few feet from me, I froze as she studied me and contemplated my routes of escape. There were no routes of escape! She had just taken out two men by herself, where was I going to go? She sheathed her daggers beneath her coat, and then reached a hand up to grip the hem of her hood. As she revealed her face, I gasped in shock: Melina. 

“What…how?” I blubbered. “But-”

“But what?” She demanded. “Is it then, that you thought we’d leave you to die?”

“I…I assumed!” I said, my eyes widening. “Those men…you…you killed them!”

“Those men were set to violate you and sell you to chattel and you’re concerned for their well being? Whoever you are, Allie, you’re not suited to this kind of life.”

“I never said I was!” I protested. “I’m just…I just want to go home!”

“Aye? And just where would home be? No, don’t tell me. We must move; I just put two men of Old Jaf’s employ to the blade and one of them’s poolin’ blood in the streets. This place’ll be crawlin’ soon. Old Jaf’s gonna think you did the deed and he’ll send all he can spare. He ain’t one to suffer such indignities.”

“They’re coming to kill me?”

“What were you doing out there in the streets?” Melina shook her head before reaching beneath her cloak and handing me a thin vial filled with a blue liquid. “lay that on your tongue.”

“What is it?” I asked, wide eyed as I took the vial from her.

“Arctesonite,” she said plainly. “Refined to it’s third form. The first form is red, the second is blue; this one’s edible. Drink it and it’ll heighten your senses, but mind that you don’t lose them as well.”

“And you…want me to drink this?”

“I want you to do it fast,” She said sharply. “We ‘aven’t the time to tarry here!”

Resigned, I pipped the cork and pressed the vial to my lips. Tilting my head back, I allowed the foul tasting liquid to spill down my throat. As she promised, my senses immediately improved. The night seemed a little brighter, actually, it was almost as if I were standing there in daylight, and my ears could hear the sounds of individual, distinct voices on the streets below. They were screaming, shouting, fretting over the body that Melina had thrown to the streets. Carriage wheels, pushing, shoving, confusion. All of these overwhelmed me until Melina grab my shoulder and shook me. 

“We haven’t the time!” She hissed. “Come!” 

We broke into a run, toward the ladder and I immediately realized that my movements were faster, more precise. As we reached the edge, instead of descending the ladder, she founded the side of the building and lept across the gap with little effort. She landed on the opposite rooftop which was a slated gable rather than a flat one that she’d left. I froze, watching her in awe as she balanced there perfectly, motioning for me to follow. With little choice, I sucked in a breath and bolted toward the edge. I lept across just as she had, and to my utter shock, my muscles responded accordingly, pushing me through the air much faster and much further than I ever had before. The alleyway beneath soared past as the slate roof rushed at me; I threw my hands in the air to guard my face and slammed into the slate, rolling across it as a few shingles cracked beneath the sudden impact. 

“Really?” Melina demanded as I came to a halt and managed to remain my feet, balancing on the side of the rooftop. 

“What do you want from me?” I shouted angrily, my voice cracking. She shook her head and ran toward me, grabbing me by the arm and ushering me toward the edge of the roof, guiding me through another jump, then another, then another. We jumped across five rooftops, six, seven, and then another until finally she stopped and cursed as she looked behind her. There were four men scrambling up the building, one of them moving quickly with the same heightened reflexes that we now possessed. How many people had this stuff?

“Come on!” Melina grabbed me again, running toward the edge of the roof and dragging us off. We fell for perhaps six seconds and then slammed against the cobblestones. The fall took nothing out of me. I looked to her, she pointed down the alley. We emerged into an a decrepit courtyard tucked between four large buildings as we melded almost seamlessly into a crowd of filthy people. As we pushed through, I noticed a row of coffin-like boxes on the ground, each one open to the air many of them containing people in various states of rest. 

“What’s this?” I asked her as we brushed past. 

“What’s what?” She demanded. “Come, we have to go!”

“Why are those people in those boxes?”

“Oh, that? Homelessness is rampant, people will pay good money for a place to lay their head for an hour or two.”

“They’re paying to sleep?!”

“Aye, the boxes are a commodity. There’s chairs over there, a shilling to sit, two to sleep.” 

“That’s…that’s awful!” I exclaimed. 

“I do wonder where you’re from,” She said to me. “That you’ve never heard of such things. This is why Quinn fights, the fight that the Lady Jenwise should be fighting, you understand.”

No, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be. There was no way that the Lady could be this callous, but as we pushed further in the evidence was harder to ignore. I saw the people in the chairs, I gawked at the sight of a man taking payment as ragged, emaciated men and women ate eagerly from a refuse bin. No, I didn’t want to believe it! This wasn’t real! People didn’t live like this! 

“Would you move?” Melina demanded, pulling at my arm again. “Old Jaf is going to have the city bearing down on us, you have no concept of what’s happening!”

“But these people!” I shrieked. “Why isn’t anyone helping them?”

“We are,” She growled. “by getting those supplies, by fighting against the High Lady’s tyranny. Now come!”

She grabbed me again and pushed us into a small nook just as a group of armed men passed. She waited a moment and peeked out, signaling that the way was clear.

“Wait,” I froze in place, pulling back into the nook, pressing against the wall. She turned and glared at me. 

“I said I wouldn’t leave you to die,” She said curtly. “If you’ll stay to your fate then I’m not disposed to stop you.”

“Look at me!” I said. She turned toward me and her eyes met mine. “Am I not familiar to you?”

She studied me for a moment and then nodded subtly. “Aye, I did always feel you looked a tad familiar, but I couldn’t place it.”

“Look closely,” I said. “What do your eyes tell you?”

She shook her head. “I can’t tell that, and we haven’t an abundance of time.”

“Are you telling me that the High Lady has caused this suffering?” I demanded. “Are you saying that she could stop this, and refuses?”

“That is what I’m saying,” She said. “It is what I’ve been saying, but what’s it to you? You didn’t even know of it until this hour past.”

I swallowed and squeezed my eyes shut, my heart pounding in my chest at what I was about to do. 

“Look at my face and see that of Micah Lavoric, heir to the the Lavoric fortune and traitor to his realm. Look at me and see the daughter of Martin Rossi. Look at me and know that I will do my part to stop this suffering. By fen and fern, I will aid your cause.”