There’s a message waiting for me, the vellum envelope sealed with plain, unadorned wax. The others look at me curiously when I tuck it into my blouse and head to my room to read it in private. With trembling fingers, I open it and read the brief spatter of text.
Tomorrow night.
King’s Onion tavern.
Midnight.
It’s from Barnabus. Has to be. Somehow he’s figured out where I am.
And I have to go. I don’t have a choice.
It’s not until later that night that Hawk heads out with the retrieval team trainees, all of them wearing the black sashes of the repeaters. I wave goodbye from the doorway of the nest like a dutiful wife, but I’m glad he’s gone. With Hawk out, it’s going to be surprisingly easy to sneak away. I go to bed early the next night, pretending to be tired from a full day of sword work. Once I’m alone in the quarters I share with Hawk, I change out of my guild uniform into my darkest, most somber dress and cloak, slipping on my delicate boots. I don’t know why I’m bothering to try to pretend like I’m not in the guild. Plausible deniability, I suppose. Either way, it feels safer to show up as “Aspeth” instead of “Sparrow.” After giving Squeaker’s ears a good scratch, I open the door as quietly as possible…
…only to see a glaring Gwenna waiting on the other side.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“Stopping you.” The look on her face could peel paint. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Aspeth, you are a terrible liar! You’re going out to meet Barnabus, aren’t you?”
I scoff. “No.”
She reaches out and plucks a tuft of orange fur from my cloak. “Pulling out our old clothes, sneaking away at midnight…sure sounds to me like you’re meeting him.”
“How do you know he’s even asked to meet me?”
“I snuck in and read your note.”
“Gwenna!”
“What? It’s obvious you weren’t going to tell me.” She marches into my room and sits on the edge of the bed, her arms crossed as she glares at me. “So again, I’ll ask, what do you think you’re doing? Because going to meet him is incredibly stupid.”
“What other choice do I have?” She continues to give me a look of disbelief, so I explain. “He knows where I am and what I’m doing. If you think he’s not going to use that information for his own purposes, you’re being naive. I have to see what he wants and what it’ll take to keep him quiet.”
Gwenna purses her lips, hesitating. “You know he doesn’t want anything good.”
“I know he doesn’t. But again, what am I supposed to do?”
She sighs. “I just don’t like it, Aspeth.”
“Me, either.”
Gwenna stands up, and I think she’s going to push me back into my room. Instead, she envelops me in a hug. Surprised and touched, I hug her back, feeling awkward and yet somehow happy. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d come here alone. Probably have given up a half dozen times already.
She pats my back. “Let me come with you, hmm?”
“You can’t. We both know you can’t.” I give her a squeeze of affection and then pull away. “If I don’t return, you have to tell the others what happened. If you come with me, we both could get in trouble. At least this way you’re safe.”
“Yes, but you’re going to go into the city alone after dark? That’s dangerous, Aspeth.”
She’s not wrong, but again, I don’t have a choice. It’s not as if I can ask Barnabus to meet somewhere more convenient. “I’ll wear my cloak and keep out of sight as much as possible. And don’t forget, I’ve been practicing with a short sword.”
Gwenna stares at me and then we both burst into laughter.
We giggle until tears stream down our faces, because I’m absolutely rotten with a sword. Comically bad. I’m in far more danger of wounding those around me with my sword, to the point that Magpie has instructed me to use a club and only a club. No sharp objects, especially not in confined spaces.
Gwenna doesn’t give up, though. Wiping tears from her face, she shakes her head again. “Ask Kipp to go with you. He’s good with a sword and no one will pay much attention to a slitherskin.”
“What if he says something to someone?” I ask, worried.
“Kipp? Please. He’s the soul of discretion.” She tugs me by the arm, pulling me into the hall as if it’s already decided. “Come on.”
Maybe she’s right. We head down to the kitchen (Kipp’s favorite spot to tuck into his shell house and relax) and talk to him. A short time later, I’m out in the streets of Vastwarren, heading for the tavern with Kipp keeping a careful distance ahead of me. He seems to know where he’s going, which is good, because it’s dark and I can’t see anything without my spectacles. I weighed the idea of wearing them, but it would ruin my disguise with Lark and the others, so I have to stagger around blindly in the darkness. It’s all a blur of shadows, but I can keep my eye on Kipp’s pale shell that he shoulders as if it weighs nothing, and it makes it easy to track him.
The night in the city seems dangerous. Even though I know I can take care of myself—probably—I’m still a little alarmed at the crowded streets. Vastwarren’s winding, crooked streets are packed with men of all ages after dark, most of them drunk and rowdy. Things are peaceful behind the guild’s high wall at the center of the city, but here in the common streets it’s a mess.
Once you get away from the center of the city where the guild holds sway, the inns and shops all cluster together like people crowding and jockeying for space. If there’s a fingerbreadth of ground to be found, someone has built a booth on it and is selling wares. We pass an alley that’s crowded with blankets and stolen goods laid out for buyers. Kipp hurries past but part of me wants to pause and look to see if there are artifacts being sold.
Not that I have the funds, of course. But you never know. I’ve heard all kinds of stories about what can be found here in Vastwarren if one knows the right people to talk to, and I’m here to acquire artifacts to protect my home above all else. I need to remember that.
It’s a sobering thought. I speed up, clutching my cloak tighter to my body, and follow behind Kipp as he winds through the crowds. Luckily the cloak—and the nasty, damp weather—keep anyone from bothering me. I get a few sideways looks from people who lose interest when I don’t pause and just continue on my way. Then I see it.
A wooden sign hangs out over the street from the balcony above, designed to move back and forth in the wind. It’s hand-painted with a busty woman holding out a bright yellow goblet that pours round white shapes that must be onions—of all things—like they’re liquid. THE KING’S ONION is written in bold lettering at the top of the sign, large enough that even I can read it.
Kipp pauses directly underneath it and looks over at me, then at the tavern. A raucous crowd is inside despite the fact that it’s the middle of the night, and someone screams with laughter, only to be drowned out by more shouting. His expression is displeased as he eyes me.
“It’s not my idea of a good place, either, but I don’t have a choice,” I tell him as I come to his side. “Thank you for the guidance. I wouldn’t have made it here without you.”
He gestures at the wall and mimes leaning against it and waiting, then looks at me.
“No, you don’t need to wait for me.”
Kipp taps his heart and then gestures at his sword. Then he gives me a firm, emphatic nod. I’m pretty sure this is a We’re a team sort of gesture and it makes me feel warm inside. Even a quiet slitherskin has my back.
“I know,” I say softly. “And I appreciate you, Kipp. But I promise I’ll be fine.”
He nods again and adjusts the straps on his shell house, then trots down the street, heading home. I’m left alone in front of the raucous inn, and my gut churns with unease. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to see Barnabus. I want to go home and sleep and not think about anything.
