Wade paused in the hallway, suddenly realizing he had no idea where to begin. He couldn't exactly ask strangers what they knew about magic-users and fugitives. And worse, he didn't have his father with him. A seventeen-year-old wandering the streets at night, alone, would definitely draw attention.

He shook his head. There was nothing for these people to be suspicious of. He was just being paranoid. Though it wouldn't hurt to be cautious . . .

He thought for a moment, leaning against the wall. Perhaps he could eavesdrop on those soldiers. Out of everyone in the town, they would know the most.

Wade nodded to himself and headed downstairs, walking with a new purpose. They were bound to know something.

The main room hadn't changed in the little time he'd been gone. The woman at the counter turned to stare at Wade as he passed by.

"Where are you going?" she asked. He flinched: her voice cut through all other conversations like a knife. A half dozen people turned to look at him.

Wade ducked his head in embarrassment. "I think we dropped some coins on the street somewhere. My father sent me to go find them."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Good luck finding them in this darkness."

Wade rubbed the back of his neck and offered a sheepish smile. The other people turned back around to their food, and he walked out of the inn without further incident.

Once he was outside, Wade breathed a sigh of relief and looked around. The street was empty and dark. A cold wind swept down it, tugging at his jacket. The horse stamped its foot on the cobbles, watching with those large, dark eyes. All was quiet.

At the end of the street, he could still see the bonfire blazing away, the soldiers' hunched figures silhouetted against it. He ducked into a side alley and peered around the corner. The street was too empty and wide to sneak up on them, and the area around them was clear and open.

Wade turned around, scanning the dirty alley. Short houses with tile roofs rose up on either side of him. There was no other exit.

Guess I'll have to find some other route. He was about to leave when a stack of crates piled against a wall caught his eye. They were arranged somewhat like a staircase; he'd be able to climb them onto the rooftops easily.

"Alright," he muttered to himself. "That might just work."

He tested his weight on the first crate. It was rough and sturdy; he may as well have stepped on solid rock. He scrambled the rest of the way up, until he was perched upon the edge of the roof. It was sloped, but not so much he couldn't keep his balance. He lifted his head.

The rooftops spread around him like a field of reddish brown tiles and wood. Wade carefully stood and examined the twisted network of streets he suddenly found himself in the middle of, searching for another route.

That's a dead end . . . That street loops around itself . . . Just an alley . . . There. His eyes landed on a small street not too far away that led to the edge of town, within earshot of the soldiers. Even better, there was some thick shrubbery and trees by its entrance he could use for cover.

Wade started picking his way towards it, hopping from building to building and hoisting himself up chimneys and walls. It was a good thing the buildings in Silith were so close to one another, otherwise he'd have much more trouble getting across.

When he was only a dozen yards from the street, Wade came upon a long gap between two houses. He paused, crouched atop a two story home. The other roof was slightly lower than himself. He should be able to leap right across it.

Wade backed up; he needed a running start for this. Ignoring the tight feeling in his chest at the thought of the cold, hard stone street waiting below him, he sprinted forward and jumped. For a single, horrible second, he hung there, nothing but air and darkness below his feet. And then he was crashing down onto solid tile, scrabbling for something to hold onto. He latched onto the peak of the roof and hung on, heart hammering.

That hadn't exactly been a graceful landing; he'd probably woken up whoever lived in that house. Wade quickly moved across it to the next roof, which was practically flush with the one he was on.

The street was right before him now. Wade turned his head side to side, looking for any place he could safely jump down. There was a home to his right that had only one floor--as long as he was careful, he could drop down to it and then the road below.

Wade awkwardly moved to the edge of the roof and lowered himself down, dangling by his fingertips. As quietly as he could, he let go and fell down, stumbling on the uneven wooden roof. He quickly moved to the edge and lowered himself over the street. He was still about six feet above the ground.

Wade sighed to himself. Can't exactly stop now. He clenched his teeth and let go. He slammed into the cobbles hard: pain lanced up his legs. Wade hissed and dropped to his hands and knees. He ran a hand over his legs; nothing seemed to be broken.

He stiffly stood up, wobbling a little. The pain wasn't too bad--he could already feel it ebbing away. Shaking his head, he began jogging down the street, straying close to the protection of the buildings.

At the end of the street, the various houses and shops suddenly fell away, leaving him standing on the road with a ceiling of leaves above his head. If he focused, he could hear the faint sound of voices to his left, where the soldiers were waiting.

He crept toward the noise, crouching low to the ground. A flickering orange glow gradually came into view. Wade peeked around a tree and saw the bonfire, only a half-dozen yards away. There were seven soldiers sitting before it.

"--filthy liar," one man was saying. He had a rather impressive black beard, and was gesturing loudly. "The only beast you've slain is that spider I saw crawling on your shoulder."

A round of laughter. A man with dark brown eyes rolled his eyes. "Says the man who ran away screaming after I flicked it at his boots."

Even more laughter. The man with the beard joined in. "That's low, Ray."

"Hey, you started it." Ray leaned back, grinning lazily. "So, what's your best story, Ezra?"

Another man leaned forward. With a start, Wade realized it was the soldier who'd stopped him and his father. His eyes gleamed in the light of the fire. "A few weeks ago, a traveler came to me while I was on patrol. She said she'd heard a great commotion in the forest many miles outside of town, and saw smoke billowing over the trees."

"And?" Ray prompted after Ezra paused. "What was it?"

"I don't know," the man replied with a shrug. "John and I looked around a bit, but the forest is just too big. We didn't find anything."

"Do you really think the traveler was telling the truth?"

"I saw the look in her eyes. It was terror, plain and simple. She'd definitely seen something."

The soldiers were all silent for a moment. Wade shifted uncomfortably; while interesting, this story told him nothing. He had no idea how long he would have to wait before he learned anything, if the soldiers knew something at all.

"You know," the first man said, lowering his voice, "There could be all sorts of strange creatures in the woods. I've heard many tales of monsters lurking in the trees."

"Nonsense," another soldier said. "Those are just stories."

"Who knows?" The man shrugged. "Stories must come from somewhere."

That seemed to be the end of whatever discussion they'd been having. Wade leaned against his tree, eyes half closed. How long had it been since he'd had a decent night of sleep?

After many minutes, Ezra sighed and leaned back, gazing at the fire. "Why must we stay out here all night? There's no need to have so many men on simple watch duty."

Ray looked up. "Oh, stop complaining. You know we have to keep an eye out for those bandits. And"--he lowered his voice conspiratorially--"any magic-users."

"Magi?" Ezra scoffed. "They're all dead by now."

Magi. Haven't heard them called that before. Wade cocked his head.

"That's not what the woman implied."

Woman? Wade leaned forward, straining his ears.

"She didn't say anything about a magi. Just two travelers."

Wade's breath caught. He took a step back but stayed where he was, waiting to hear more.

Ray shook his head. "The Valkir have never cared about common criminals. This has to be something to do with a magi."

"But the Valkir have never needed the likes of us to help. With anything, much less a magi. We're worse than useless to them."

"Look. Something has them worked up. I think they're getting desperate."

"Whatever. The lady seemed calm enough to me."

A short pause. Wade was about to leave, glancing nervously at the dark trees around him, when a soldier spoke up.

"I wonder where she came from," he said. "I've never seen red hair like that before."

"I think it's more common in the east," another muttered. "Not sure, though."

"Huh."

Wade started moving away, careful to avoid making any noises. From their tones, he guessed these soldiers were more preoccupied with this woman's looks than her business in their town. He wasn't going to learn anything else.

When he'd gotten back to the road, he broke into a sprint. He needed to get to his father and leave, now. If there was a Valkir anywhere nearby . . .

He reached the first row of houses and barreled down the street, keeping an eye out for any way back to the roofs. He'd be able to get back to the inn faster that way, though he was sure if he kept running he'd find a path sooner or later.

His footsteps sounded far too loud, rebounding off the dark buildings on either side of him. He suddenly missed the forest; the trees served as a cover, but these houses were only barriers.

Wade was darting past an alley when a cloaked figure emerged from the darkness, right in front of him. He tried to move aside before he crashed into it, but something struck his leg, sending him flying forward. He crashed onto the street; the air rushed out of his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath. Someone grunted above him.

"Ugh," he groaned, pushing himself to his elbows. A woman stood in front of him, perhaps a little under thirty years old.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she cried, extending her hand. "I didn't see you coming."

Wade stared at her. She had lovely, kind green eyes and wore a slight smile. But what caught his attention was the red hair cascading down her shoulders, as rich and dark as blood. A shiver ran down his spine. His eyes flicked to her forearm, hidden under her shirt.

Stay calm.

"No, that was my fault," he gasped, taking her hand. She pulled him up with surprising strength. "It was stupid to be running around at night."

The woman cocked her head. "Why were you doing that?"

Wade's heart stopped. He gave her what he hoped was an embarrassed smile as he desperately tried to think of an excuse.

"I, er, lost something." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace. It shone in the silver light of the moon. The simple, cross-shaped pendant twirled slowly in the open air. "Mother was about to have a fit--my grandmother gave it to her. The sooner I get it back to her, the better." He paused, letting a small frown flit across his face. If this woman was who he thought she was, he'd need to do more to convince her. "I don't think I've seen you before. Do you live here?"

The woman smiled, but for a moment her eyes turned cold, swift calculations running through them. "No. I'm just passing through."

No, you aren't. Wade thought.

The woman hesitated. "I'm looking for two people, actually. A boy around your age, I think, and his father. Have you seen anyone like that pass through Silith?"

Wade pretended to think for a moment. "No, I don't believe so. Why? Are they your friends?"

The woman laughed softly. "Let's just say I need them for something."

Wade titled his head, forcing his expression to remain more or less neutral. "Okay . . . Well, I suppose I should get this back to my mother." He stowed the necklace back in his pocket. "Good luck finding them, ma'am."

"Idris," the woman corrected him. Her eyes moved over his shoulder; she seemed to be thinking about something.

"Ms. Idris, then," Wade said, grinning. He gave her a little wave and turned, facing the dark street. He'd need to take a different route, get out of her sight before running back to the inn.

"Wait!"

Wade stiffened and looked over his shoulder. Idris was gazing at him, her head tilted ever so slightly to the side.

"What's your name?"

"Ryan." With that, Wade sprinted off.

<><><>

Wade didn't stop running until he was standing in front of the inn. He paused before entering, glancing over his shoulder. The road was empty. The horse was still awake; it nickered softly at the sight of him.

He squared his shoulders and looked at the door. His face was probably flushed, and his breathing was heavy. He closed his eyes and assumed a harried, embarrassed expression. Or at least, he hoped he did. Terror was hard to disguise, and he was slowly losing his self-control.

Wade opened the door, looking around the room. There were only three people still inside: a man staring blindly into a large cup of ale, the woman at the bar, and a young man eating a bowl of soup. Only the latter two seemed to notice him.

"Did you find those coins?" the woman asked, her voice mercifully lower now.

"No," Wade said, lowering his eyes. "I ran all across this half of town trying to find them."

"I can tell," she said, looking him up and down.

Wade climbed the stairs and made for the door to their room. He pushed it open and rushed to his father, still fast asleep on the bed.

"Dad! Wake up," Wade hissed, shaking his shoulder. "There's a Valkir in Silith!"

His father's eyes shot open; he sat bolt upright. He blinked, running a hand through his hair. "Wade, what did you do?"

"Not now! We have to get out of here."

His father nodded and ran to their bag, throwing it over his shoulder. Wade grabbed his sword, still wrapped in it's cloth, and slung it over his back. He glanced at the hallway and hesitated.

"It's going to look strange if we leave like this," he said.

"Are there still people down there?"

"Yes." Wade groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead. "But we can't stay . . ."

"What did you do, boy?"

Wade explained everything as quickly as he could, wringing his hands. A Valkir . . . if they were caught, they were doomed. His terror grew with every second that passed. How had Asher ever lived like this?

When he finished, his father lowered his head, deep in thought. "If the woman figured out who you were, she'd never have let you go. We could wait for the people downstairs to leave before going."

Wade shook his head. "Or maybe she followed me right to you. I don't know." He clenched his hands. "This is bad."

"You said you told the people you were looking for coins you dropped in the street?"

"Yes."

". . . I may have an idea. Follow me."

His father walked out the door. Wade trailed after him, his steps quick and jerky with anxiety. They walked down the steps: the woman stopped in the middle of cleaning a glass, and the young man looked up from his soup. The other seemed to have fallen asleep over his drink.

"You find that money, boy!" Wade's father growled loudly, striding toward the door. "That's all we have left!"

"Yes, father," Wade said, hanging his head. They were almost to the door when the young man stood up and walked over to them. His father stopped, lifting an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I heard there's a father and son trying to flee the country. The boy's about his age, I'd say." The man looked sharply at Wade.

Wade forced a laugh. It sounded just a little too high. "So people keep telling me."

"I'm in a bit of a hurry, sir," his father scowled. "Those coins will only last so long out in the open. Move out of the way."

". . . Sure." The man leaned to the side, letting them pass. Wade avoided eye contact, following his father out the door.

It was cold outside. The street was still empty.

"Seems safe for now," his father remarked, looking around.

"I suppose." Wade shuffled his feet. "I think those soldiers will question us if we try to leave the way we came. Is there another way out of town?"

"How would I know?" His father grimaced. "There should be. But we'll need to be quick. I don't want to meet that woman out here."

"No . . ." Wade's eyes drifted over to the horse. "What if--no, we couldn't."

His father followed his gaze. He stared at the horse for a moment, rubbing his chin. "I don't like the idea either, son. But that thing could save us."

Wade froze, conflicted. His father was right. The horse would be faster than they could ever be. But it still felt wrong. "Are you sure?"

His father sighed. "We need to get out of this town." He sounded just as reluctant as Wade felt, but he walked over to the horse anyways. He opened the stable door; the horse watched him silently. "C'mere, boy."

The horse leaned forward, nostrils flaring.

"That's it." His father looked around the stable. "Wade, help me get it saddled."

A minute or two later, they were ready. There was no time for a saddle: Wade simply helped his father bridle the horse and guided it out onto the street. It let them both mount without protest, swishing its tail.

Wade sat behind his father, gripping its sides with his legs. He'd ridden a few horses before to help farmers in Aleran--they'd pay for help during harvest season--but never bareback. His father clicked his tongue and urged the horse forward, guiding it further into Silith. They broke out into a canter, then a gallop. Wade grabbed his father tightly and lowered his head, listening to its hooves strike the cobbles.

It's so loud, he thought, watching the buildings fly by. Someone will surely hear us.

But no one stopped them. They raced through the streets, occasionally stopping to consider new routes. Silith was a maze, full of dead ends and confusing loops. It felt as if hours passed until they finally burst out into the open, now on the other edge of the town.

"Nobody's following us," Wade muttered, looking over his shoulder. Silith was empty and quiet, locked in a deep slumber. He rested a hand on the horse's side in a silent thanks. It's breathing was labored--they would need to stop soon. Trees towered on either side of them, tall and swathed in darkness.

"Good," his father said. He looked sideways, at the forest. "We'll need to stay off the roads from now on."

"What'll we do at Norstarn?"

"One thing at a time, son." His father let the horse slow to a trot and tugged the reins to the side. The horse obediently moved into the cover of the trees, picking it's way across the leaves and branches.

Wade ran a hand over his face. He was exhausted, and his father probably was as well. Even the horse seemed ready to fall over. Worry would only make things worse.

"Okay."