Badriya as-Sahra is sick of piling up camel dung and picking people's pockets for a living. Her world discriminates against women and orphans, and it is only her damned luck that she happens to be both. She yearns for more but can't do anything else...
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Ali's Ale for Ails was a hotspot for those who wanted their worries to fade away with just a swig of strong arak. It was also one of the few places in the city that seemed to never close shop. Ayaz remembered going there a couple of times with his crew to have a celebratory drink after getting a job done-all on his tab and while wearing an elaborate disguise, of course. It wasn't like the other shops that housed shady men who wanted to conduct suspicious business, which Ayaz liked for once.
But now, its windows and doors were boarded up, its welcome signage torn down. Its owner had since passed away, and his sons had no intention of continuing their father's trade. All that remained was just a skeleton of what it used to be. Or so it seemed.
Ayaz slowed when he took the turn that would lead him to the pub, lingering by the corner of a nearby establishment. A flicker of movement crossed his vision, and he looked up, squinting. A few men clad in black above the building across him moved about before disappearing from view. Just when he thought that he had been spotted by an enemy, the door creaked open, and a young girl's face appeared from the gap.
"Hurry," she mouthed, gesturing to him to get inside.
Ayaz obliged, his steps light as he sprinted for it. The brown-haired stranger closed the door behind him. He towered the girl over by a head and yet she didn't look threatened by his presence. Though it wasn't every day that they had a girl amid their ranks, he knew she was one of the crew.
"We've been waiting for you, za'eem," she said. "Idris is upstairs."
That confirmed it. "Thank you, uh..."
"Minah," the girl supplied, beaming at him. She didn't look like a day over thirteen. "I'm a new recruit. It's an honor to serve you, amiri."
Ayaz smiled awkwardly. It was always the neophytes who gushed over him whenever he found the time to meet with the crew. The attention and excitement he got from them would often fade over time, but he still couldn't get used to it. He never did.
"Thank you, Minah," Ayaz said. "I'll go on then. Watch your back."
Then he left Minah by the stairwell, taking two steps at a time. In a few moments, he reached the rooftop where several crew members lingered around. They turned to Ayaz, standing a little straighter and giving him salutes. One of them had Idris' hawk perched on their arm. He waved and smiled at them in acknowledgment before making his way to Idris, who stood at the edge of the rooftop, his three-pronged spear strapped on his back.
"Glad you could join us," Idris greeted, shooting him a glance before looking back at the view.
"I got your message," Ayaz said. "Where's the target?"
Idris nodded his head toward the closed pub. "Right there."
"The pub?" Ayaz stared at the abandoned building. "But it's-"
"Not closed," Idris said. "Turns out they have been using it as a hideout for a while now. Look. Here they come."
A couple of men trudged toward the closed tavern, curved, glinting swords strapped on their waists. Their gait swayed and stumbled, suggesting that they had a few drinks elsewhere before coming here. They were deep in a conversation, so they didn't notice a bunch of men clad in black peering above them. When they reached the front, the door swung open for them, letting them inside. The scene happened so briefly that Ayaz didn't get the chance to see the inside of the pub.
