Chapter Eight

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Evrik had been to the lower city with me twice. The first two times he had volunteered, but this time Tannix had chosen him, and I thought I knew why. Compared to Jalor and Mandell, Evrik stood out less. Mandell was huge and would draw a lot of attention. Jalor was too proper. He couldn't help but look like a lord. Evrik, even though his position in Tannix's guard certainly made him very wealthy, didn't look it. His dark blond hair hung loosely around his shoulders, instead of neatly tied back, and his beard was just a little too scruffy. Without his axes, he could have looked like a regular sailor—a very common sight around the lower city's taverns and brothels.

Evrik was happy to trail after me as we walked through the streets I had grown up on. Regardless of his current wealth, Evrik had grown up poor, and being around poverty didn't make him uncomfortable. He didn't mind the filth, or the rats that scurried in the growing shadows, or people trying to touch him. Not that many people did. Evrik looked dangerous enough to ward off most beggars.

Baisan and the rest of my family lived in a three-storey high apartment building. It wasn't where we had grown up, but Baisan was ambitious and apparently good with money. An arrangement with Tandrin had led to Baisan having excess money for the first time in his life, and he had used it to buy a building. Now he was running it as a bit of an orphanage, giving other street children a safe place to sleep as long as they managed to find their own food.

The building was rundown and partially repaired. Some of the lowest windows still had glass, but most of them were covered in wooden boards. The higher floors had more intact windows, which were open to let in the evening breezes from the bay.

The front door had been painted red. I wondered at the decision as I knocked, using the complicated pattern I could remember Baisan using. When that didn't work, I tried the pattern I had heard Castin once use. That, too, didn't work.

"Must've changed it," Evrik said.

I grumbled and tried Baisan's knock again. "Hello? It's Finn. Finagale. Baisan's brother."

A tiny, stubborn voice answered me. "You don't know the knock."

"Right. I just forgot," I lied.

"You can't come in if you don't know the knock."

"Get Baisan," I said.

"He's busy," the voice said firmly.

Behind me, Evrik laughed.

I stepped back and eyed the building. I knew exactly which window opened into Baisan's room. "I'll get him."

"What?" Evrik looked at me, and followed my gaze. "Oh. When was the last time you climbed a building? If you fall and break your neck, Tannix will kill me."

"I never fall." I pushed back both sleeves, and easily pulled myself onto a windowsill. Maybe it had been some time since I'd last climbed a building, but I'd spent my whole childhood climbing around in the lower city. Baisan's building didn't pose even a slight challenge. In some places, missing or chipped bricks made perfect places for my fingers or toes. Windows, both the ones with glass and the ones that had been bordered over, were as easy to climb as a ladder. It was easy to reach Baisan's open window.

I hauled myself up and sat on the windowsill. Baisan was hunched over the old table, his back to the window. With one leg still dangling outside, I drew my other leg up and draped my arms around my knee.

"Baisan."

Baisan jumped and whirled around, a small knife in his hand. I started laughing so hard I had to grab the windowsill to keep myself steady. Baisan slipped the knife—Castin's knife, I noticed—back onto his belt and scowled.

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