Together, we rushed out of Nico’s chambers, down the base’s stairs, and into the canyon. After recognizing Nico, the night patrolmen let us pass unquestioned. We crossed with our backs hunched, pulling up our hoods to protect our faces from the wind-lashed sand as it stung our skin. The few civilians we saw moved past us without so much as a greeting in a manner very atypical of Bellgate’s people. They’re afraid, I realized. Afraid of both the elders and the rebels.

We reached the third story of Gibnor without incident. Whereas before the festival there would have been people talking and drinking on the ledges, now all of the residences were shut tight. Nico and I glanced at each other with concern; although there were iron lanterns mounted at regular intervals in the stone, none of them were painted red.

The further we walked, the more I became convinced that the assassin had lied to protect his employers. There were dozens of rooms on the third story—even if there was a contract, we’d never find it without the room number.

“There!” Nico whispered, pointing at a deep red lantern mounted on the door of a dwelling with a triangular opening.

I turned to him. “How can we be sure?” I asked, “What if he lied, and someone is sleeping in there right now?”

Nico crouched in front of the door and examined the ground. “The owner just left,” he said, “or the wind would’ve blown the dust away.” He gestured at a pile of dust a few feet away from the door, which appeared as though it had been pushed forward as the door scraped across the rock.

“Good thinking,” I nodded, and Nico flicked open his knife. In only a few motions, he wiggled the blade between the bolt and the rock, popping the lock open.

The door swung open with a creak, and the dim light of the flickering lantern cast long shadows over the room. I pulled down my hood and stepped over the threshold as Nico pulled a torch from the wall, lighting it with the flick of a match. The dwelling was simple but messy. It consisted of a single room, a small kitchen, and a chamber pot pushed into one corner. Piles of linens laid atop the couch and mattress, and the kitchen was cluttered with dirty glasses and jars.

I pushed the door shut with my heel and threw the bolt. Without a word, we began to tear apart the room in search of the contract. I pulled apart the piles of bedding and clothes, making no effort to preserve the way they’d been arranged. Nico scoured the kitchen, turning over the pots and dishes.

A half-hour of fruitless searching passed. When the most obvious hiding places had been exhausted, we ran our hands across the walls and floor in search of hidden compartments.As my adrenaline wore off, it was replaced by fiery pain that worked its way across my shoulder and chest. The exhaustion came in waves, and at times I could barely stave off the urge to lay down and let unconsciousness overtake me.

I wrung my hands, glancing over at Nico. “If they find that dead man in my room, they’ll arrest me, or worse.”

“Let’s leave now. We’ll go to Chibron,” he replied in a voice like steel.

I froze, losing my grip on the pillowcase I’d been ripping open. “You’re willing to leave everything behind to flee with me?”

He only looked at me in response. I smoothed back my hair, considering it. We could stay at Chibron, then move west, hoping to find another town where Keon has no influence. But what about the war? What about Bellgate?

“I can’t leave,” I decided. “People believe my story now, but what will happen if I run away with a murder in my wake? Let’s keep looking, at least until dawn.”

“We’ll miss our chance to escape,” Nico warned, but he turned away to keep searching. At a loss, I turned my attention to the pantry, where he had already pulled out the meager food supplies. I tore off the lids to the unsealed containers, exposing half-eaten food in various stages of decay, but no contract.

If there was a contract, I thought, it was probably long since turned to ashes. That’s what I would do. I stood up, steeling myself to agree to Nico’s plan. I’ll have to return to the base and pack a bag with supplies and money. But is there time? What about my injury?

As I stepped forward, my foot kicked a tin of coffee beans, sending it rolling across the floor. My eyes followed it, and a hint of hope reawakened in my chest. Coffee was expensive in Bellgate—in fact, it was probably the most valuable possession that the assassin owned. I chased after the can, stopping it with my toe and grasping it with shaking hands.

I pulled off the lid and ran my hands through the beans. When I felt nothing, I tilted the tin and let the coffee clatter to the floor. With it fell a rolled-up piece of paper no larger than my thumb. “Nico…” I whispered, pinching the paper between my fingers. It was wrinkled and brown, stained by the coffee beans.

I smoothed the paper out as Nico crouched down next to me. I skimmed through the writing at the top of the page and skipped to the bottom half, which read:

Two gold pieces to be paid to the order of Ezekiel Young for the successful liquidation of Anabelle Laurent, also known as Glace Synco.

Then, in barely legible scrawl, was the signature of Ms. Catriona Griffith, the outspoken female elder who had often challenged me at meetings.

I looked up at Nico, the paper still clutched in my hand. “This is enough. Everything we need is here.”

He shook his head, shocked. “Honestly, I did not expect to find it. They must have been stupid, or very desperate, to take such a risk.”

“You’re right. I would guess that the assassin didn’t trust them. If they refused to pay, or if he was caught, this was his collateral—he’d expose them.”

“But that would ruin his life, too.”

“He must have assumed that without the gold, his life would be ruined anyway.” I thought of life in Bellgate’s desert, contained within the four great rocks, working each day just to survive. I suppose that there are unhappy people everywhere, even here.

I folded the contract carefully, tucking it into my jacket pocket. Nico gave me a searching look. “Now that you have this, what do you want to do?”

My vision grew sharper as I met his eyes. “I’ll need that camera that’s tucked away in your dresser, and do you know where they keep the printing press for Operation Exposé?”

He nodded, catching onto my plan. “You get the camera, I’ll get the copies. And then?”

“Then, we go see the elders,” I smiled.

***

I strode into the meeting room with Nico at my heels. The first rays of the sunrise had just broken the grey desert sky, but the pounding of my heart kept me from feeling the effects of the dark or the cold. My shoulder throbbed. Only a little longer, I told myself. You can do this. You must. Ahead, four of the nine elders sat at the meeting table, their clothes in various states of disarray. They made no effort to hide their weapons, which sat on the table in front of them or laid clutched in their hands like talismans.

“This is highly unorthodox,” a female elder complained, and I recognized her as Catriona Griffith, the woman whose signature had authorized the contract. “We only agreed to meet because you… demanded that it was urgent.” She glanced back at Nico, whose rifle was strapped against his chest. Only moments before, he’d threatened to shoot the elders’ guards if a meeting was not arranged.

I held up my good hand. “Let me get one thing straight,” I said, “I called this meeting, not you, and you’re lucky I’m giving you the chance to hear what I’m about to say.”

Elder Griffith’s expression twisted with anger and her finger twitched on her weapon. “How… how dare you speak to us in that way!”

Shaking my head, I approached the table and slammed the evidence down in its center: a copy of the contract, and a palm-sized polaroid photograph of the assassin’s body. “I imagine you went to great lengths to find someone willing to kill me, but you failed, and a man is dead because of you.”

I savored the looks of pure horror on the elders’ faces as they recognized the contract. “What’s this?” a male elder finally asked, but I saw through his ruse instantly.

“Don’t bother. I know that you were all in on this operation, and when I release the copies of this contract, all of Bellgate will know too.”

The elder stood suddenly, aiming his weapon at my head. “I could kill you here,” he growled.

“Yes,” I smiled, “I’m sure the people of Bellgate will react well when they find my body in your chambers. Besides, we have already told several people what happened, and they won’t hesitate to incriminate all of you if Nico and I die here.”

“You’re bluffing.”

I shrugged. “Are you willing to bet on that? I think you can tell that the paper in front of you is only a copy. The real one is somewhere safe.”

The elder sat back down, defeated. “Fine. What is it that you want?”

I leaned on the table, bringing my face close to the elders. “I want you to sponsor a force. We’ll be trained by your best soldiers and given the finest provisions when it is time to deploy. While we’re training, we’ll be provided with food and accommodations for free. In fact, you’ll do everything in your power to make sure we succeed.”

“Why not just expose us?” one of the elders asked, clutching his weapon. He glanced around at the other elders’ shocked faces and shrugged. “You all know that this is enough to double the size of the opposition against us.”

“I do not want a civil war in Bellgate any more than you do,” I said, meeting his eyes. “That would mean chaos. I’m willing to work within the infrastructure you’ve created, but you must do as I say.”

Several of the elders nodded, and the man who had threatened my life raised his arm to speak. “It seems we have no choice. But… what is the purpose of this elite force that you wish us to sponsor?”

I gripped the edge of the table so hard that my knuckles turned white. “That’s easy,” I said. “We’ll take advantage of the mayhem caused by Operation Exposé to cut off the head of the beast.”

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

“We’ll travel to the warfront, and we’ll kill the king,” I announced. Ignoring their gasps and protests, I turned my back to their stupefied faces and took Nico’s arm, leading him out of the room. At the last moment, I turned, staring down the elders one last time. In my mind’s eye, I pictured the body of the young assassin as I had last seen it, already succumbing to the sickly grasp of rigor mortis.

“Send someone to clean up the mess in my room,” I ordered, “and give him a proper burial, at least.”