Iluli wiped dried blood from her hands with an oiled rag. Her pebbly skin made the process slow, but she took the time. The city of Lira had six sentinels, one of whom controlled a scent hound, and another who could speak to water, which some said meant she could also talk to blood. If Iluli left so much as a few flakes, even if it was just a bit tucked into a fold of her grey flesh or under a nail, she’d likely be a head shorter come morrow.

Glancing up from her work, she caught Grett’s eye. The kid was young, Nedenian, and as wet behind the ears they came, but Iluli had to give it to him, he was keeping it together despite the piss storm they were in. A quick nod sent the boy scrambling to the only window worth a damn. If trouble came, at least they’d have a moment's warning.

Iluli finally finished cleaning her hands and tossed the cloth into their tiny hovel’s equally tiny hearth fire.

“Hairy bastard sure could bleed,” Pocket laughed, the young man stretching his short frame out on their only chair. Though his skin was black and white, his small stature spoke to Desidran ancestry, his feet barely touching the ground.

“Hole it,” Zade hissed. She was Nedenian too, taller than Pocket but shorter than Iluli, with wavy black hair cut to her shoulders and a voice that was currently near hysteric. “Or do you want everyone in the row to know?”

“Phaw,” Pocket said, “give it an hour and everyone will know, brat. You don’t just leave six skins somewhere and expect to hear nothing back.”

Grett turned to say something, but a look from Iluli jerked the kid’s eyes back to the street.

Zade ignored them both and made a line for Pocket. As if she had any chance of taking the thick-armed lad. Iluli didn’t let her try, shoving her sideways as she marched by. The push made her gasp in surprise, toppling her over a nearby crate and onto the floor. She quickly righted herself and opened her mouth to yell.

“Shut up,” Iluli said.

Zade closed her trap, eyes blazing.

Pocket grunted. “That’s right, sit down.”

“You too, Stump.”

Pocket’s face screwed up, but Iluli silenced him with a raised hand.

“Just ‘cause Kyte decided to get himself gutted back there, along with Selia and Tem, doesn’t mean I plan on doing the same.” There. She had said it. What they all knew, but didn’t want to hear. Their leader and two other gang members were dead, and it was time to move on. “This place isn’t safe. We need to split up and get rid of this stuff ‘fore word spreads. Then we lay low until the Festival. When the streets flood with people during the culmination, neither the sentinels nor the watch will notice if we meet up at Red Hollow.”

Iluli didn’t wait to see if anyone would argue. Instead, she reached down to a sack at her feet that clanked with goods. “Grett.”

The boy stood up straight and managed to look at Iluli while still taking glances out to the night darkened street.

“The merchant had this flute strapped to his back. Find out what it’s worth.”

Grett gave a nod as Iluli placed the metal instrument on the crate.

“Pocket.”

The bruiser snorted in response.

That’s fine, Iluli thought. I don’t need you much longer. “His jewelry wasn’t special, but he had enough to make it worth our while. Take ‘em to Teson or Wip. I don’t care which, just get a good price.”

Pocket didn’t move when she laid out the assortment of bracelets and rings, each with at least a touch of brushed metal in the Keldese style. He just kept his head turned, looking at nothing. So, Iluli stared at him and kept staring, letting the hovel go quiet. Pocket finally stood, grabbing up the trinkets.

”I don’t take orders from no Islander,” he snapped at her, having to look up to do so, and then he marched to the main door.

Iluli watched him crack the wooden slab open and then shove it closed, wondering if she’d ever see the musclely runt again. Probably when she didn’t want to. Iluli turned to the red-eyed and now sour Zade. Of course, she had wanted the jewels. That’s why she didn’t get them. Too often Kyte had given her more than her share of shiny baubles. But that was going to end. Right here. Right now. Because Kyte didn’t have the sack of goods. Iluli did.

“Here are the scrolls,” she said, retrieving a small, thin pouch of fine leather from the sack. “Denrik’s price was a half-silver each and he damn well better pay. Any he doesn’t take, you burn. Got it?”

“I got it,” Zade said, her eyes never leaving Iluli’s as she stood up. She took the proffered scrolls but then leaned over to Iluli’s ear. “If you want to be rough,” Zade whispered slowly, just like she had moved. “I’m game.” Zade lingered for a beat before pulling back, her soft, black hair trailing against Iluli’s cheek. Their eyes met again, and then Zade was moving, stalking out the same way Pocket had left.

No sooner had the door slammed behind her than Grett piped up. “You should be careful of her.”

“Nah,” Iluli said, feeling the weight of the merchant’s purse brush against her ribs as she turned. “She’s all yip and no teeth.”

“Your funeral.”

Iluli wasn’t in the mood. “Just take the flute and get out of here, kid. I don’t have time to babysit.”

Grett went stiff, but Iluli didn’t give a damn. She watched in silence as the boy moved away from the window, picked up the metal rod, stuffed it into a bag of his own, and then made his way out the smaller side door, shutting it behind him.

Iluli stood there for a moment, listening to make sure that the three of them were really gone. When all she could hear was the snap of the fire and her own breathing, she let herself relax. They were fools. The lot of them. City rats who didn’t know what they had stepped in. Iluli sighed in frustration. And now Kyte was gone. Not that Iluli had ever liked him. No, but there had been something about the cocky prick. Something that had turned a ragtag bunch of lowlifes into a respectable gang. Iluli couldn’t do that. Didn’t want to. The only reason she had joined up was because she knew an easy ride when he saw one. And now it was over.

Iluli knelt by the crate, turning her back to the hovel’s only good window, so anyone who looked in wouldn’t be able to tell what she was doing. With steady hands, she spilled out the contents of the merchant’s purse. Coins of different sizes fell silently onto the thick cloth, which had been nailed to the top of the box. A small bit of excitement that always welled up in her died when she saw the money.

Nut’ but iron and a handful of steel.

She hadn’t expected silver, but after losing near half the gang, it would have been nice. Iluli squeezed the empty bag in frustration and that’s when she felt it--there was still something inside. Eager again, she turned the purse inside out over the table and pushed open a hidden pocket. Out fell a hazel colored gemstone about the size of her thumb, which landed on the coins below with a few clinks.

Seeing the stone, Iluli frowned, picking it up. Some people used gems in place of bank notes when they wanted to make large trades without a paper trail. But why have just one stone and in a special compartment no less? It’s not like this piece was an emerald or ruby. She turned it over, only to discover a rune carved into the back of it, which caused her eyebrows to raise, and they rose even further when she swore she saw something shift inside the stone.

Quick as she could, she closed her hand around the gem, feeling the edges of the etched rune against her fingers as she held it tight. Iluli looked over her shoulder at the window, eyes and ears straining. After a count of thirty, when she was as certain as she could be that no one was watching her, she turned back around. Gingerly, she opened her hand partway, hoping that everything she had been through tonight had simply made her see wrong.

There was definitely something moving within the gem.

“Het,” she cursed, stuffing the stone back into the pouch and sliding all the coins on top of it in a hurry.

What in the starry hell is a Keldese merchant doing with a soulstone? she thought, hands shaking as she closed the bag, tied it, and then slipped it into her shirt. If the Nedenian noble houses got word of this, Lira’s sentinels would be the least of Iluli’s worries. Part of her wanted to get rid of the gem as quickly as possible: in a gutter, an alley, anywhere was better than having it on her. But she couldn’t do that. The soulstone was more valuable than the entire job they had just pulled--much more valuable--though hunting down a buyer would be no easy task.

Iluli glanced around the room, trying to decide if she dared risk pulling up a few floorboards or ripping open some of the flea-ridden bedrolls stacked in the corner to see if any of the gang members had a stash. That would take time she didn’t have though and would probably be a waste since as far as she had ever been able to tell, they all kept anything that mattered either on them or secreted somewhere else, just like she did.

Instead, she went over to the fire, scuffing it with her booted toe until the flames were dead and the meager kindling was nothing but smears. Satisfied that the sentinels wouldn’t be able to use the remains against her, she moved to the side door. She paused briefly before opening it, pulling up the hood and face scarf she always wore when outside. She also tugged on fresh gloves. Her previous pair had gotten ruined in the back alley melee that had left Kyte and the others dead.

When everything was in place, Iluli stepped out the door, closing it snugly behind her. None of them would be coming back, not if they were smart, but they didn’t need to make that fact obvious. Their shack stood at the end of a row of other square buildings just like it, all pressed together, one after the other. They paid extra for it, since its location at the tip allowed it two doors, but other than that it was small and filthy, barely worth the weekly rent. She wouldn’t miss it.

It was well past midnight, so only a few people here and there were traveling the cobbled streets. Nonetheless, Iluli leaned her head slightly back, letting the hood cover more of her face. Lira was far enough to the west that its citizens didn’t hate Islanders in the same way that people who lived along the coast did, but they would sure as sin would remember seeing one, and that was the last thing Iluli wanted right now.

Though it made her skin itch, she walked at a regular pace as she left the hovel behind, doing her best not to stand out. The job had gone down over in the Leather District, so it was doubtful that anyone would have been able to track them all the way to here in the Lower Lanes already. Still, where sentinels were concerned, nothing was a guarantee.

As she walked, Iluli pressed a hand against where she held the stone. At first she wasn’t sure why, but then she realized what it meant: freedom. Not immediately, of course. It would take a lot of careful questions and some well-placed bribes to get in touch with the right people to sell the stone to. After all, it’s not like the grifters they used to fence their meager hauls brokered in soulstones--they didn’t have the funds or the desire to face the punishment of public execution without trial or judge. But Iluli had heard whispers of a black market that dealt in chosen children and stones, and it apparently had ties throughout all the nations, not just Neden. If she could find that network...

The sound of men approaching brought Iluli back to her surroundings. There were two of them, stumbling down the street together about twenty paces in front of her. As they neared, she could smell ale on them and even some vomit. Iluli pulled her face scarf closer and narrowed her eyes, hoping they would view both actions as disapproval of their pungent scent and not an attempt to hide her features. One of the men barely noticed her as they passed each other, rambling on about the next place they were headed--in a city the size of Lira, there was always entertainment to be had somewhere--but the other blinked at her, probably curious about her garments since the evening wasn’t especially cold. She didn’t give him time to ponder it, walking past the two and breathing easier when she heard them continue on their way, the stink of them receding.

The brief encounter served to remind her that it would probably be best if she left Neden altogether. A landlocked nation like Keldii or Caas would bear an Islander like her much less animosity, if any, which had been her original plan before Kyte’s smooth-tongue had convinced her to stay for a spell in Lira and join his gang.

Travel required money though, and the coins in the dead man’s purse were worth less than what Pocket, Zade, and Grett should make in trade. So, Iluli wasn’t going anywhere until after her meeting with them. If she just followed her own advice and laid low until then, she should be fine, especially with the city so focused on preparing for the upcoming Festival of Birth. What’s more, that gave her time to collect on a few debts she was owed. Not enough to make it obvious she was leaving and start tongues wagging, but at least some. After all, once she put feet to road, she was never coming back, and there was no guarantee on how quickly she could find new work wherever she ended up.

Despite the list of tasks and unknowns piling up in front of her, Iluli felt the corners of her mouth tug into a smile. She always felt more comfortable on the move anyway and the thought of having this city at her back excited her. Not to mention, if she played her cards right with the soulstone, she could end up with more money than she’d know what to do with.

Iluli looked up at the few stars that dotted the night sky, wondering which one was Kyte, since there was nowhere else that the gods would have seen fit to put a murdering, womanizing, thieving bastard like him. She settled on a low hanging one that shone dully, as if pissed at finding itself up there, just as she was sure he was.

“Thanks,” Iluli said to it, keeping her voice quiet and steps even. “I didn’t ask for you to die.” Her smile widened. “But since you did, I’m taking your share.”