the main square.
The late-afternoon sky was darkening, and the air was thick with golden light. Many of the shops had closed, but Ilse found a baker still open. She asked for directions to the street where Raul’s chief agent lived. The baker’s mouth settled into a disapproving line. Not a pleasant neighborhood, Ilse guessed. But the woman gave her directions and even offered her a drink of water after Ilse bought a half loaf of bread.
“Where next?” Galena asked when Ilse came outside.
“Minnow Lane. Once we deal with my friend’s friends, we can find a room and bed for tonight.”
Galena shrugged wearily, as if she hardly cared any longer about inns or friends. Valara shook her head but said nothing. She limped from blisters, but she offered no complaints.
Ilse led them back to the main avenue. From there, they hurried along the edge of the riverbank to an open square. A smaller lane at the bottom of the square, mentioned particularly by the baker, looped down the slopes toward the river. Now Ilse understood the woman’s distaste. An air of neglect overhung the neighborhood. Damp stained the plaster, the air smelled of urine, and paving stones changed to ankle-deep mud and filth.
Her companions followed her silently to the house Lothar Faulk had once described to her. Ilse motioned for them to stand to one side. She knocked.
Nothing. She knocked again and set her ear against the door.
“You won’t find ’em home,” said a rusty voice.
Ilse turned to see an old woman peering down from an open window in another house. “Not at home,” the woman repeated. Then she laughed, a high creaking laugh. “Sold up three months ago. Said that business turned bad here, and he’d try his luck elsewhere.”
“Do you know where?” Ilse said.
“No. But for a man with such terrible business, he whistled and sang a great deal. Are you wanting a room for tonight, lady?”
It was tempting. She might question the woman about Raul’s late agent. But it was equally likely the woman had been set to watch any visitors. She gave a friendly smile and shook her head. “Thank you, but no.”
The old woman muttered something about dirty beggars and slammed the shutters closed. Ilse skirted around the corner, to where Galena and Valara waited out of sight.
“Your friend’s friends were not so lucky for us,” Valara said.
“He has other friends. But I think we should try another town. We can find a bed for tonight, then head for Gutell tomorrow.” They would buy new clothes and good packs before they left Emmetz. They didn’t want to attract more attention.
They retraced their path up the hillside. In the brief interval since they arrived, the sun had disappeared behind the hills. Twilight flooded the streets, making them appear all alike. Ilse thought she remembered the way back. There had been a couple quick turns, then a pair of stairs leading up to the more public avenues.
A wrong turn brought them into a maze of passages, overhung with looming blank walls. Not their first wrong turn, Ilse thought as she surveyed their surroundings.
“We should have followed that other street to the left,” she said.
Galena sniffed. “We’re close to the river. I can smell it.”
“Do we go back?” Valara said.
“Yes, and quickly,” Ilse replied. “We don’t want to spend the night in the streets.”
Especially these streets. She disliked their emptiness, and her hand found her sword hilt.
Her suspicions were confirmed when she turned around to see a shadow blocking their path. It was a boy, all bones and ragged hair. Scars stood out pale against his dusky complexion, and he had the scattering of a beard. He held a knife in one hand, its blade pointed upward. His gaze flicked over Valara, then settled on Ilse. “I saw your money,” he said. “Drop your purse on the ground, and you won’t mind what comes next.”
Ilse exchanged a glance with Galena.
“Thieves,” she murmured, drawing her sword.
Galena already had hers in hand. “Hungry ones.”
What happened next came so quickly, Ilse could not separate cause from result.
Half a dozen figures swarmed from the building on their left. Six or seven more blocked the street behind them. Most of them were older boys, but several were hardly more than children, and there was one girl with a swollen belly. All of them were skinny, their eyes like dark pits in their faces. All of them carried sticks and knives.
Galena slashed at the gang leader’s face. The boy flung his arm up and ducked