a splinter of rock. But you . . . I can see the power inside you. Young power from ancient blood, raw and untrained. Do you know how many people carry the Winters name here in Albion? Worthless people with no true link to the family by blood?”
Kate shook her head.
“Hundreds,” said Silas. “One or two of them showed some small promise, but they were nothing like you. You are the one I have been looking for, and you will come with me, or I will start slicing off those delicate fingers of yours. One . . . by . . . one.”
Kate felt the chill of metal against her hand and she tried to snatch it away. There was a sharp snap of a lock and Silas cuffed one end of a long fine chain to her wrist, wrapping the remaining length of it around his hand. “A precaution,” he said. “I do not intend to lose you again. Now, walk.”
Silas dragged Kate to her feet and pushed her ahead of him to the shop door. She did not want to go out there, not after what had happened, and she deliberately tried not to look at Kalen’s body lying on the ground. Silas led her toward it and made her stand beside him as he toed the fallen man with his boot. He knelt on one knee, wrenched the dagger from Kalen’s body, and wiped it clean on the dead man’s robes. An engraved letter K glinted along the blade. He pocketed it at once. “Unfortunate,” he said. “But necessary.”
Silas looked up to the roof of the shop, where his crow was perched patiently upon the gutter, fluffing its feathers against the wind. “Follow the boy,” he said. “Do not leave his side.”
“Edgar?” Kate tried to pull free of her wrist chain, but the metal gripped tight. “What do you want him for? Leave him alone!”
The crow clicked its beak and leaped into the air.
“As long as my crow is with him, I will be able to find him,” said Silas. “The Skilled may be able to do many things, but I possess a few tricks of my own. No one can escape me, Miss Winters. Not him. Not you.” Silas held Kate still, and she watched the bird fly away until its wingbeats were lost across the rooftops of the town. “Kalen earned his death many times over,” he said. “Your friend will have his own judgment to face. For now, you are my primary concern.”
Silas pushed Kate farther down the barrow alley in the opposite direction to the market square, heading out into the maze that was the Southern Quarter’s back streets. Kate looked around, searching for someone who could help her, but the few people she could see were already running from the collector, too terrified to challenge him for the sake of one girl. Her town belonged to him now.
Groups of robed wardens moved through the streets, herding frightened stragglers in the direction of the square, and Silas forced Kate to a stop as a black horse pulled a closed carriage along the road toward them. The carriage’s sides and roof had been red once, but the paint had long since peeled away, leaving scars of worn red and black. Kate could not see the driver’s face under the hood of his robes.
The carriage stopped right beside them, and Silas unlatched the door. “Get in,” he said.
Chapter 5
Wintercraft
Edgar ran through the Southern Quarter, keeping to the shadows, trying not to be seen. His hands were sweaty and his heart was racing. He hadn’t run this fast since . . . No. He wasn’t going to think about that. He felt like a coward. A collector had Kate and he was running in the opposite direction. Any ordinary person would have tried facing Silas, tried to fight him and force him to give her back. But this was not the first time Edgar had run from Silas Dane. Fighting him would get Edgar nowhere. He knew what he had to do.
He kept running, ignoring the shouts of a few townspeople who were standing on doorsteps or leaning out of windows pointing at plumes of smoke rising from nearby fires. They must not have seen the wardens yet, but they were making enough noise to attract every one of them for a mile around.
Dark clouds brought heavy flurries of snow from the north, darkening the sky and filling the air with falling flakes of white. Edgar