“Something’s wrong.” Lapis leaned away from the glass window and into Patch, unease marching from her chest and into her throat.

Her partner squeezed her hand and stared at the surrounding streets. While the faint streetlights did little to illuminate the roads beneath them, the carriage driver had two lanterns hung from bendy poles that blazed bright for the horses, casting all in a honey yellow. “We should have seen a rebel by now.”

“Even for a cold night, the stragglers are sparse, so if they were around, we would have noticed,” Armarandos said, leaning into the small door that opened to the box seat, his voice a bit higher than the clop clop of horse hooves. He sat with the coachman, behaving more like the guards that held onto the back of the carriage rather than the lord he was. She did not envy him the freezing ride; the interior, despite the open door, was warm.

She did not notice a source, but the plump red cushions heated her rump and backside nicely. Patch did not seem impressed with the transportation, and she wondered how many warm carriages he had traveled in. Or maybe he expressed his typical disdain of the affluent; the carriage was a marvel, with gold embroidery covering every cushion, velvet lining the walls, thick carpet cradling the feet, a chandelier hanging in the center of the cab that issued a comforting light.

She pressed her nose against the glass again; white spread across it from her breath, fogging her view. They had arrived in the Grey Streets, but she knew quicker ways to reach the tavern than the carriage-wide roads. “I want to go ahead. If the Eaves is clear, I’ll send word.”

“And I’ll get to the House,” Patch said. “Where do you want to meet, Armarandos?”

“The stable near the Eaves. It is close, but out of immediate danger.”

“Be careful.” Kalliope drew her gaze from the window, as worried as an old friend. Lapis wondered at the reaction. She had met the woman on one occasion, and Fools and Ghouls was not a celebration that leant easily to forming new friendships, considering the bustle.

Patch opened the door, unconcerned about stopping; they hopped out and trotted into the nearest alley.

Her partner kept her company as they ran; Lapis hated the crisp air searing her lungs, hated the stench of smoke from house-warming fires, hated the slick ice that had formed from daytime slush even more, but she did not feel she had time to take it slow. Why had Maurojay gone to the Eaves? Why not search out Lord Adrastos’s home? Or go to a community center? Or ask after the Minq? If they used local transportation, the driver would know the way to other places. Or had they snuck in and did not want to attract attention?

Patch caught her arm before they entered the road that ran in front of the Eaves, and she staggered to a stop. “Be careful,” he whispered. She nodded and reached up for a kiss.

“Get the rebels here.”

“If Rin sent Gabby, he had to have gone to alert them. I don’t know what’s keeping them.”

His worry infected her already blazing anxiety. It could be, no rebel was at the House at that moment. Most of the Blue Council leadership and local leaders were at the Ambercaast workstation, and typical rebels had missions to complete. House guards had a duty to remain, no matter the situation. She refused to endanger Jhor and the khentauree. Was Ciaran or Dagby around? She would take Keril, if no one else.

That had to be it, no one around. Rin knew the Grey and Stone Streets better than a Dentherion tail. They would never catch him.

Patch smoothed the back of her cold cheek with his gloved fingers, then pressed his patch. The blue lights spun in an alternating pattern. “There are three inside with tech, and I’m not picking up anyone else with advanced weaponry in the area. I know you don’t want to hear this, but don’t confront them. Wait for us.”

Lapis would risk herself for the rats, and she hated he wanted her to promise not to. “Alright.” At least she knew the number of enemies to expect. She kissed him again and scurried across the road to the yellow-lit tavern.

No one stood outside smoking. Even during the coldest night, one or two would brave the frost and huddle under the eaves, jumping up and down as they puffed away. Tense, ready for the worst, she pushed the door open.

The cold of night followed her inside and lingered in the entry with her, as the warmth from the interior battled it for supremacy. She had done the same thing too many times to count, and Dachs would hail her with hearty cheer and ask if she wanted some tea. She glanced at the counter; Dani bantered with customers, no Dachs in sight. The rats and Rik went back and forth about something, and regulars laughed at the antics. Normal looking, a boisterous night—except Dani signaled for help. Lapis did not understand the finger language, but she learned that sign during her first year in Jiy.

She smiled and winked at the server. “Can I get some tea, Dani?”

“Sure,” she said, her eyes flicking to the customers before retreating to the kitchen.

“Lady!” the rats called. Brone, who stood, arms folded, squeezed against the back wall talking to Scand, flashed the same sign. That they behaved as if nothing was wrong, but warned her with signs rather than spoken words, meant someone within the Eaves concerned them.

She did not recognize half the custom, but the three who caught their attention stuck out like a broken finger. The dark woolen coats with shiny black buttons that looked too warm for the inside of a tavern, the ironed slacks, the polished shoes, the stiff postures, the still-full glasses of beer, all screamed nefarious. Typical tourists liked to drink themselves near unconscious with locals before crawling back to their rented rooms and plush beds.

Her gaze flitted over the rats; her reading group clustered around the tables with Nerik, the Wings, and a couple of others who likely wanted a bit of warmth before retreating to their cubbies to hole up for the night. No Lykas, Jandra or Lyet. No Rin, but she had not expected him, either.

“Why are you pestering Rik like that?” she asked as she stopped next to Nerik, granting the mischief a squint-eyed look.

“He thinks Shimmer Rose is based on another story called Counting Sheep,” Ness said, pouting, as put out as she ever heard him. “I’ve never heard of Counting Sheep.”

Lapis laughed. “I think we have a couple of books somewhere.” The tale starred a young girl who cared for animals, but that was the extent of the similarities. Were they trying to tell her something, or was Rik distracting them?

“Milla cared for horses just like Shimmer did,” Rik said, draping his arm over the back of his stool with a small, amused smile. The woman he sat with, Shoose, grinned, though Lapis could tell it was fake. Her side glance at the three Dentherions hinted at her worry. “And she named them after colors, too.”

“Sable One, Sable Two, Sable Three aren’t colorful or inventive,” Phialla muttered, and the rats nodded in sage agreement.

They were telling her about the interlopers. Hopefully they did not think she missed seeing them; she was not that clueless, even if she could not understand what they told each other with the finger language.

“Shimmer Rose had names like Violet and Crimson and Sapphire,” Ness said. “Those are colorful names.”

A hand patted her arm; Lapis turned and accepted the tea from Dani, who shook her head at the young rat. “If you want a story like Shimmer Rose, you can always read Lucky Jen and the Raven.”

“No.” Giving rats more ideas on how to thieve was not in their interest, or hers. Dani chuckled as she returned to the bar counter, and Lapis silently raced through the story as she sipped the tea. Lucky Jen escaped a harrowing bandit situation with the Raven, and succeeded through not only luck, but the bravery required to hide in an abandoned graveyard.

Had Rin taken the three to Scand’s cubby? The neglected temple had a lot of niches stealthy rats—and the random, desperate shank—used to disappear from those chasing them, and the dilapidated graves kept other undesirables at bay through nothing more than ghost stories.

She sighed as the warmth barreled down her throat and to her chest. “After a cold chase, this is good.” She set it down on the tabletop with a wink to the rats. “I’ll be back down,” she said and hustled to the stairs.

She needed her gauntlets. She neglected to take them to the meeting with Armarandos because she had not expected to use them. The mansion sat on the western edge of Greencastle, one of the safest neighborhoods in Jiy, so why wear them? Patch would care for any difficulties that presented themselves. She glanced down the hall, saw no one, and slipped into her room, locking the door behind her.

The new pair did not fit inside her coat sleeves. Wincing at the cost of future alterations, she dug in the closet for one of Patch’s, and wrested the handle out so it rested against the outside of the leather. Worried she took too long, she shuffled through the books and found the one with Counting Sheep and other tales, then cautiously stepped into the hallway, locked the door, and quietly padded down the hall to Rin’s rooms.

 Knock knock. No answer. And locked.

She needed to talk to the rat about hiding a key.

She took the stairs to the third floor, happy only one squeaked, and pressed her ear to the door of Dachs’s suite before knocking.

No answer. And locked.

Dammit. Should she call out? Deciding against it, she returned downstairs.

Relief swept through her as she heard the rats and Rik still arguing over inconsequentials. Nothing had gone wrong during her brief absence.

The Dentherions cast the rats dark looks, as if their chatter irritated them. Good. Maybe they’d leave and she could pound on Dachs’s door again. She slid the book to Ness and reclaimed her tea.

“The first three volumes of Counting Sheep are in there,” she said. “If you like them, maybe we can find the rest.”

Rik chuckled, and she returned his smile, though she wanted to smack one of the Dentherions for rolling their eyes. She did not care whether the urchins impressed him or not, as long as he kept his discontent to himself.

“So how’s Megan, Rik?” Distractions, distractions, or her anxiety would get the better of her and she would fidget. Not a good look, in front of enemies.

Shoose laughed. “She hates the cold. Been givin’ him no end of trouble.”

Rik pursed his lips. “She’s more annoyed this year than most,” he grumbled. “Some of the days have been crisp, though.” He held his palm to his mouth. “Bought her a mask. She isn’t as averse to pulling the cart when she has it on, and the blinders attach to it easily enough. Can’t wait ‘til warmer weather gets here.”

“I don’t blame her. I hate cold weather, too. Makes chasing miserable.”

“I wouldn’t want to follow a shank to the Stone Streets and back feeling like my lungs had froze,” Rik agreed. “I’d throw them in the Pit and let nature decide what it will.”

Another reference to death, and she knew the Grey Streets referred to Scand’s cubby as the place where nature kept on its course. Smart of them, and smart of Rik, for catching the Lucky Jen hint. He was better read than she assumed. She nodded and raised an eyebrow, hoping he got the point she understood. “It’s been tempting, a time or two.”

“Where’s Gabby?” Ness asked. “I thought she was with you.”

“Armarandos needed her,” Lapis said. “Apparently messages don’t stop when the sun goes down.” And that was true, to an extent. Armarandos did need her—to stay at the mansion. Her fit at being left out did not impress any of them, and Lady Thais took her in hand, promising to keep her busy. Would a bit or two make it into her palms for helping? Hopefully.

“I can’t believe she had a job,” Ness said glumly, stretching out on the tabletop to grab the book.

“You do, too. Painting pottery is a fine job.”

Phialla patted his back. “Some of the Stone Streets rats have been teasing him,” she said. “They say painting pottery isn’t a real job.”

“Sure it is. And you have the bits to prove it.”

She caught the face the Dentherions made over that one. Fighting the urge to snap at them, she finished her tea, chatting with Rik and reminding the rats that Sable One, Two and Three were fine names for horses—but their disgust was not directed at the tale, but the oblivious men in black coats.

“Alright, everyone!”

They all turned to Dani. Patch leaned against the counter near her, arms folded, nonchalant, as she waved a paper in the air. “Dachs said he can’t make it back and Dalia and I have to go. Sorry to boot you into the cold. If you’re not ready to head home yet, you can clip on over to Beecats or Mistles.”

The non-regulars took the hint faster than the regulars and gulped their remaining drink as those familiar with the tavern sipped. Lapis mentally urged them on, but that did not speed them up. When the lot finally headed for the door, they made a point of leaning in to have a word or two with Patch. The Dentherions watched the departures with narrowed eyes, glanced at each other, and remained seated.

Ah well. Lapis tapped the surface of the table to capture rat attention.

“Gather up. Rin’s room is warmer, so you can hang out there until you’re ready to go back to your cubbies.”

Ness breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s cold tonight,” he agreed, hugging the Chasing Sheep book to his chest and scooting across the bench. The rest reluctantly scooped up reading material and followed, and she hoped they stayed in the room rather than sitting on the stairs, trying to catch a glimpse of the action. If things took a terrible turn, she did not want them in range of a Dentherion weapon.

Rik slid off his stool and stretched, Shoose with him. Lapis leaned in. “Megan in her usual stall?” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Tell Armarandos what’s going on.”

He nodded and held his elbow for Shoose. She took it, then patted Lapis on the arm, more worry than good-bye in her eyes. “Take care, Lanth.”

She smiled, warmed at the concern, feeling miserable she caused the reaction. “Thank you.”

The Dentherions eyed the interior, the customers, the rats, tightened their grips on their glasses, and remained seated.

Stubborn.

Dani looked at them, settled her elbows on the counter, and leaned over the bar. “I know it’s cold out—”

“We’re not leaving.”

She blinked at the frosty statement, issued by the man who regarded them all with narrowed eyes. He had a thick Dentherion accent, another confirmation the three hailed from the empire and they had trailed their quarry to the Eaves. “I’m shutting down. You’re not getting anything else tonight, and Dachs doesn’t want customers in the tavern when one of us isn’t here.”

Patch pushed away from the wall, shoved his hands in his pockets, and meandered past them. “Eh, if anything disappears, stake them. They shouldn’t be hard to find.”

“What did you say?” the talkative one growled through clenched teeth. His companions looked uneasy, as if they thought remaining in the tavern was a bad idea and that their buddy should not be drawing attention to them.

“I said if you steal from the counter, she should stake you. I’ll even take it, make sure I get what you stole back.”

“We’re not thieves.”

“Yeah? Then why are you insisting on staying here when the tavern’s closing?”

“Why’s she leaving us here?”

“She’s not on your schedule. Things work differently in Jilvayna than they do in Dentheria.” The hostility between the two warmed the air, and worry crept through Lapis. Too bad the guard no longer existed. They could make a production of sending for them and having official law enforcement throw them out.

Not trusting her partner’s temper, she walked to Patch and settled her hand on the bottom of his back. “Now now. Let them sit in a cold, dark tavern if they want.” She jerked her chin at Dani and Dalia. The cook was already bundled for the trip home, and Dani took her coat and scarf from the woman. “Say hi to the little ones for me.”

The rebels had better be surrounding the place, anyway. Dani waved, wrapped her arm around Dalia’s shoulders, and they took the back way. Lapis slipped behind the bar, snagged the large key Dachs kept for show, held it up so the Dentherions knew what she grasped, and pretended to lock the front door. Hopefully the rebels kept anyone from walking in because that would ruin her performance.

“Have fun,” she said, purposefully eyeing the undrunk beers. “I’m sure you have no other place to go, or anything else to do, but just so you know, when Dachs gets back, don’t expect him to issue a warm greeting.”

The flare of anger in the three amused the darker part of her as she turned down the lamps, hoping the rebels had enough light to target their foes. Rubbing her hands on her pants, she headed for the stairs, her partner steps behind.

This was not exactly how she expected the confrontation to play out, but it kept everyone safe from an unwarranted Dentherion attack.

“We need to get to Scand’s cubby,” she whispered as they hit the second floor. “That’s where Rin took them, that old graveyard off the northern Lells. I think Dachs went with them.”

“They caught Lykas.”

Lapis froze at Patch’s menacing growl. “What?” No. No. Panic rushed through her, drowning everything else. A rat in the hands of Dentherions?

“He, Jandra and Lyet were throwing the larger group off Rin’s trail, and they caught him. Pure dumb bad luck in a Lells crowd. Jandra and Lyet didn’t want to go to the rebels for help because they didn’t want to lead enemies to the House. They knew Gabby would get you and me, so waited on the road between.”

Lapis gripped his arm, fighting to steady her thoughts. She would be of no use to Lykas if she could not form a coherent sentence. “Where are they?”

“Jandra and Lyet think they’re at the Ella Theater ruin. They said Lykas is stringing them along, telling them about different hideaways. Heran and Nilas are on watch, with Drow and Maci running between. Lapis, be careful. You don’t have backup and these people work for a man who assassinated his cousin to become High Counselor. They won’t care who gets in their way.”

“I know.”

“Lapis, I’m serious. Wait for us.”

She smashed her lips together. Wait? Waiting led to rat death; Miki proved that. “What are you doing to do with the men downstairs?”

“Don’t know. Tuft wanted to freeze them, and that’s probably our best bet. I’ll tell Ciaran, and we can split, get a group to both places.”

Tuft invited himself along? Then they would arrive more quickly than she thought. “Love you,” she whispered and kissed him hard before fast-walking to Rin’s room.

Scand opened the door and let her in without her knock; waiting, of course. He had his coat buttoned, and a scarf wrapped around his nose and mouth. “I know a quick way,” he told her, chest puffed out in importance.

“They have Lykas, Scand. I told Patch about the graveyard, but we need to get to the Ella Theater first.”

The rats gasped in unison, and Scand’s eyes rounded in disbelief. “They caught Lykas?”

“I know, I know. We’re going to go get him. Nerik, you’re on door. When the rebels knock, let them in and do what they say. Jesi, you and the Wings stay by the tunnel entrance. If you all have to flee, go.”

“Lady!” Phialla whimpered.

She cupped her face in her hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll save Lykas and I have a surprise for an enemy filthy enough to use a kid like that. Brone, do you know Scand’s quick way to his cubby?”

He nodded and firmed his lips, burying his fear. “Yeah, I can show whoever.”

“Question: is Dachs with Rin?”

They all nodded.

“Good.” Between the ex-keeper and her apprentice, the three asylum-seekers would be fine. “Scand, let’s go.”

They left a mischief filled with distress and sobbing behind.