___

  My worn-out boots sat in their usual spot beside my bed. I slipped them on and tied the laces. I guess this meant I was going out tonight.

  I had a prison to visit.

  ___

  Outside, crouching on the ledge next to my room, the city came awake as my eyes adjusted to the low light. Fires burned in the streets, and small conversations were barely audible from the nearby night market.

  I had to decide whether I wanted to try stealing from a couple of houses, or just go straight to the jail. Guards tended to be a little less prepared as the night wore on, so I figured the middle of the night would be a better time to reach Adrian.

  The first house I stopped at had some small trinkets, but nothing major. You come to expect that in the poorer parts of town; after all, they lived here for a reason.

  Not to mention with Terra’s reign, people feared making more money, even if they could. The guild’s taxes kept rising, though the term “tax” was generous. From the bits of conversation I had picked up on the streets, the taxes were a deadline and a threat.

  People were losing their houses in “mysterious fires” if they were late on their payments. One person had whispered that they had known one family that had a child disappear - though I wasn’t sure how much weight I put into that rumor.

  The fires, however — that I could believe, since I’d seen the wreckage occasionally. Just thinking about the guild made me angry. But maybe by getting close to Adrian, I could learn some information.

  I scoped out a couple of other homes but found it hard to concentrate. Adrian wouldn’t leave my mind. After spending hours searching houses, I usually got into a rhythm. I didn’t need to think about what I was doing. My body just knew.

  But not tonight. Tonight I kept having to slow down, check my foot placement, consciously remember to put things back the way I had found them.

  As I climbed out a window and onto the roof, I also thought about the house I had stolen from before meeting Adrian that first time. He had said that he had interesting information about it, but I had never asked. Maybe I would have to bring it up tonight. Finally, after almost waking up an entire household by not being careful while closing a door, I quit early. My mind was far too distracted to try another house. I gave up on any thoughts I had about finding anything good tonight and headed towards the jail.

  As I jumped over a gap between two houses, it’s too bad I didn’t have the ability to rob the richer neighborhoods, I mused. I had tried a couple of times when I was younger, but ultimately it ended up not being worth it.

  Richer houses meant more security, and more security meant more time needed to scope out a place. And while it is possible to break in and to get some of the more expensive items, it’s also too much of a risk for most to take on alone.

  I reached the jail and watched the alley between it and the abandoned pharmacy for a while.

  This jail didn’t have a fence around it, since no one cared about the inmates in the bad part of town. Many of them didn’t have families, so the security was mostly just to keep the staff safe.

  I had gotten lucky with my timing since not even an hour after I arrived, the guard below me yawned and walked off. From my vantage point, I could make out the guard’s shadow as he walked into the front offices of the prison, and hesitated a minute just to make sure he didn’t return. Adrian’s words came to mind: Fifteen minutes. It wasn’t a lot of time, but hopefully it would be enough. Hoisting myself over the ledge of the roof, I found footholds easily enough to make my way down. Looking out across the courtyard, I saw the third window from the left.

  “Izzie.” I heard a low voice speak from between the bars as I hunched down next to it. Thankfully, the nearest light was near the front of the building. “I saw your shadow, not very good—.” His voice cut off with a weak cough. My body tensed, adrenaline reacting already. Something was wrong.

  I dropped to my knees in front of the bars covering the window and tried to peer in. Only darkness greeted my eyes. I leaned to one side, trying to let more light in from behind me. This wasn’t right. My chest felt tight as I studied the outline of someone inside.

  The figure moved until he was hunched over the windowsill, his arms leaning heavily on it for support. And his voice had been hoarse. Like the kind you get after someone has wrapped their hands around your throat.

  For a moment, I considered lighting one of my matches that I kept on me, but quickly decided that would be too risky. I was already sneaking around a jail. I didn’t need any extra attention on us.

  “Adrian?” My voice came out in a whisper, still seeming harsh against the still night air around me.

  “Izzie.” The response was weak and hoarse. He gave a sound that might have been a laugh, but then wheezed and started coughing again. I waited for him to stop before speaking. This was not the same person I had followed that morning on the rooftops.

  “What did they do to you? Are you okay?” I felt like I already knew the answer, but a part of me had to ask.

  “Guards just had their fun.” Adrian took a slow breath between the words, but the next sentence I could make out a small smile in his voice. “The guild will get me out. We look after our own.” Relief that had no reason to be there ran through me, but I noticed his tone had grown harsh suddenly. I reminded myself to take a few deep breaths. At least he’d be okay soon.

  “You wanted to talk to me?” I glanced around the street and saw no movement—yet. But the guards wouldn’t take that long, and I needed to be gone before the new one showed up.

  “Need a favor. Friend got caught stealing, and is at another jail. Far side, Nectar district. Here,” His words still sounding slurred and slow, I saw the outline of Adrian’s hand sneak between the bars and grab onto mine. He slipped a piece of paper into my palm. Remembering back to when he held my hand while he led through the dark passage at the guild, my face heated. Hopefully it was dark enough he couldn’t see.

  My thoughts came back to the present moment, Nectar District. That wasn’t its formal name, only thieves called it Nectar. Named after the richness of the houses, and the honey-gold jewelry that they often had. It was more of an ongoing joke than anything. Even the elite thieves’ guilds didn’t deal in that neighborhood, or at least rarely. It was so highly guarded that even with a team—or especially with a team—you were bound to get caught.

  “Greenwood?” I questioned him quietly, the neighborhood’s official name, as well as the name of the only jail in that district.

  “Yes. His name is Mark.” I smiled at that. An assassin named Mark, that had to be an intentional joke. “The directions are in your hand.” He paused for a moment, either to catch his breath or consider something, I wasn’t sure. “You should go.” I was about to rise from my spot when I heard him whisper again, and his grip tightened on my hand. I turned to face the window and asked him to repeat it.

  “Goodbye Izzie, and I know you’re not a messenger, and I’ll repay you for this, I promise. Be careful.” With that, he slipped his hand from mine, and I returned to my rooftops.

  I crouched low behind a chimney, watching as the second guard came out, looked around and settled into his relaxed posture. No alarms were sounded, and it looked like I was in the clear.

  I couldn’t figure out what to do after that. I felt too distracted to go to any more houses tonight, but it was too early to head home just yet. My mind kept going back to Adrian and the note. I stopped on a rooftop and mentally listed the things I had stolen tonight. It wasn’t much, but it would probably get me a little of money, and I could really use some bread.

  Running closer to the tower I lived in, I detoured around it. Not going up, but down. First to street level, then to the basement of an old repair shop. An old man ran it, and as far as I knew, he was the original owner and specializes in clocks and other mechanics. He was a nice enough guy, though I had never asked his name or even really saw him that often. He let thieves run a secret sort of market below his shop, and in exchange, we leave him alone. I had sometimes wondered how he had gotten involved with thieves in the first place, but I wasn’t going to argue. This was the worker’s part of town, and it was as safe a place as you could find to fence stolen property.

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  The door man let me in. No special knock or identification was needed. If you were hanging around in a back alley in the middle of the night, in one of the lowest neighborhoods in the city—well, it was pretty obvious what you were here for. I made my way down the short hallway and to the stairs.

  Technically, this part wasn’t even the shop, but a separately held corridor that only had one entrance, which I had just come through. I assumed the shopkeeper just turned a blind eye to everything that went on down below, and did his best to ignore us. Or maybe Terra Edem had been involved.

  I shook my head. That made little sense. I doubted Terra’s group would want another shop in competition with their own. Although most thieves didn’t deal through Terra’s rings — too dangerous. Why deal with assassins if you didn’t need to?

  A wooden door led me to more stairs. I went slowly to keep my footing. There wasn’t much for light until you got further, but you could always hear the noise first. The hallway opened up and steadily gave way to more light, until finally, I reached the large open space.

  The Tank. Named primarily for the tankards of alcohol that were sold here illegally. We could thank Terra for that as well, having increased a sales tax on alcohol that made it impossible to get drinks anywhere that was regulated. But I always thought of this place as more like a cage, like when animals are kept as pets. But more important than either of those things, you could find people who were willing to fence things that you may not have come by honestly. And that was why I was here.

  Torches lined the walls, but only enough to cast shadows over everything. A long, high table ran along the far right wall, fashioning itself as the bar. I rarely came here to drink, and there were a few reasons for that. The first being that it cost extra money that I didn’t have, and the second was because when you’re in a room full of nothing but bandits and murderers, it’s usually best to finish your business quickly and leave. It still made me uneasy coming here, but I had grown used to it, and the vigilance came easy.

  On the left side of the room was where I headed: the market stalls. Except everything was kept concealed behind the counters, under the watchful eyes of the sellers. It was good to keep in mind that the people you were selling to were probably murderers and thieves themselves.

  As I scanned the room, I heard snippets of conversation from the other side where the bar had been setup. People were talking and joking amongst each other. Occasionally there was gossip told in too-loud whispers. Most of it wasn’t true, but as I listened, I heard a man speaking on a familiar subject. There were always rumors of a way out of the city. A system of underground tunnels that could lead you away from Terra’s reign. I smiled to myself. Unlike many that were here, I knew those rumors were true, since I had worked for the tunnels a few years ago.

  Moving my attention back to the market stalls, I glanced over at the many tables and chairs filling the middle of the place. People were standing, sitting, and cheering over cups of alcohol. But that wasn’t what I came here for. Instead, I spotted a couple of food stalls at the far end. I never knew how often people changed out of their businesses, but I rarely ever saw the same merchant here twice. I found a pleasant woman who read the letters I had for Mark, for free, though I slipped her some coins to buy her silence.

  Izzie,

  Thank you again. There’s not much light for me to write this by, but hopefully you can make it out. I knew you’d come talk to me. You’re too curious for your own good. But as for what I need, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t urgent. The second letter, along with this one, is to be delivered to Mark. He’s in the Nectar Jail which will be more heavily guarded then this one. I don’t have much info, and I hope I’m not putting you in too much danger.

  Mark should be in the far corner jail cell. My small amount of intel says there is only one of those which should make it easier to locate. I can’t tell you much else, only that it needs to get to Mark, and soon.

  And Izzie, if TE gets me out of here, I promise I will make this up to you.

  A

  At first, when the merchant had told me what it said, his letter had only made me upset. Who does he think he is? That I would endanger my life just for the sake of getting a note to one of his friends?

  What could be so important that he has to ask me to deliver it? Surely there were people at Terra who could do this errand? But I looked at the second note, the same writing as the first, but messier than the original:

  Mark,

  They’re not coming. I’m sorry. I have pull at TE but it wasn’t enough this time. Please, don’t give up hope. I’ll figure out something. I don’t know what yet, but I’ll do whatever it takes. Just give me time. Please don’t give up yet.

  A

  I didn’t have time to think about it now, not with this many people around.

  After trading the trinkets I had found for some bread and apples, my eyes were caught by a merchant holding out some clothing items a couple of stalls down.

  Stashing the food awkwardly under my clothes and in whatever pockets I had, I made my way over there. The man was talking about how these boots were the finest leather, and they looked beautiful. But then again, who knew if he was telling the truth? What held my attention, however, was a pair of gloves that were sitting on the countertop. A dangerous place to leave your wares, I thought. Especially down here. They were real leather, and details of purple thread tracing an intricate pattern over the back of the hand and fingers.

  Color wasn’t something you often saw, and I knew they were probably worth a small fortune. I was taken aback by how precious they seemed, as if someone had cared about the work they put into them. And then I did something I hadn’t done in years: I stole from a night market merchant.

  I waited until the shopkeeper had turned away from me, displaying the fine boots to some other interested people, and I brushed the gloves off the counter and into my waistband. Moving my waistband bag and outer shirt over them so it wasn’t noticeable.

  And then I took my time. I checked out the boots he had originally been showing off, feigning interest in the way he had made them. Then a couple more booths; first aid supplies, weapons, lock picks. Everything you would need to be a thief. When I finally left, I made sure no one had taken notice of me. Everyone who met my eyes dropped them back to the floor, or to the people they were talking to. That was a good sign. I walked up the stairs and breathed in the dry air as I made my way into the alley. I was free. And I felt a rush that I thought I had lost a long time ago.

  You get used to stealing things, but this time was different. This felt closer to my first heist: the small terror of being caught, and of breaking the rules. This felt more risky than most of my normal day-to-day thieving. Checking that the gloves and my food were still secure around me, I made my way up to the roofs again and traced my way back to my tower.

  Crouching under the low beam, I collapsed onto my bed, careful not to squish the bread that was still tucked under my clothes. Removing the food, I placed the newly gained gloves gently across the blankets. My stomach pinched with hunger and had been growling since the market, and I knew I could look at the gloves later. Lighting a candle, I tore off a few pieces of bread and allowed myself an apple. Of course, this only led to me wanting more food.

  My stomach hurt with hunger, and what I had would not help much, but there was nothing I could do about that right now. When food was scarce you had to learn to ration it, even if rationing seemed incredibly difficult sometimes.

  Using a scrap piece of cloth, I wrapped up the 3/4 loaf and the rest of the apples, and created a new stash behind a loose beam in the wall beside my bed. Then I looked at the gloves. Picking them up, I ran my hands over the seams. They were soft, movable and seemed to be about my size.

  Moving so I could be closer to the light, I turned them over. The palms were well padded, with thinly covered fingers, so I could still grab objects delicately. Looking at the back of it again, I was amazed at its beauty. It was not something often found in this town. Or, at least, not that part I lived in.

  I wondered where they came from and how the shopkeeper had gotten them.

  Then I finally slipped them on. They fit perfectly and were not too tight as I flexed my hands in them. Maybe this is what Adrian—I stopped—I had forgotten about the note. Frantically grabbing at my pockets, I thought I had lost it. Then I felt the folded edges of the paper brush my fingertips and pulled out the crumpled sheet. Flattening it out on the floor, there were two notes, and I held one up to the light, and though back to what the merchant had told me.

  How desperate was Adrian that he would use me to deliver this letter? And who was Mark, if he wasn’t someone Terra Edem would help get out?

  I was also startled by the briefness of the letter. Compared to mine, there was almost no information, but maybe that was intentional. Maybe Adrian guessed I would read it. I ran my hands through my long hair and took it out of its tie, letting it fall around my shoulders.

  Taking and folding both of the letters, I tucked them away with the original one I had kept. I didn’t know what to do. Blowing out the candle, the sun had already partially come up and I was quite tired from the night before. Carefully, I took off my new gloves and put them away, tucking them deep into a space behind a wooden slat in the wall. I was feeling happy that I had taken the risk of getting them. As I laid down, I moved my hands behind my head and tried to get comfy as I stared at my ceiling, thinking.

  How much did I really know about Adrian?