Xerxes’ heart pounded into his throat as he raced down the stairs and the tavern’s common room. He slowed to a walk near the door, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

He stepped out onto the street as nonchalantly as possible. Eyes darting left and right, he noted the locations of the city guard at either intersection. None paid attention to the paper bird that had just plummeted from the barred window of the prison. He glanced at the prison itself and noted no signs of activity.

The paper bird was lying in the gutter. He picked it up. Keeping his gaze straight ahead, he crumbled it and shoved it in his pocket. He was tempted to leave the inner city, except that he had just told the server he would return. If he didn’t, wouldn’t that arouse more possible suspicion? Looking up and down the street again, he strolled back inside.

If someone’s watching me, I couldn’t possibly look more suspicious.

He didn’t see the server, but the ale was waiting at his table. After taking a sip he sat down and waited for his heart to stop pounding. He half-expected guards to pour out of the prison and rush at him. It didn’t happen.

A few minutes later, he pulled the paper out of his pocket and flattened it out.

The first thing he did was look to the bottom for a signature. There was a stylized version of the first letter in Gandash’s name. Xerxes’ mouth twitched in a smile. He started reading.

X,

Be careful. Loyalists control this part of the city and they don’t like us. You need to get me out of here, but don’t try to break me out. Sheik Hatim is already negotiating my release. Get in touch with Seer Simeon or High Seer Musaru and offer your help. If possible, arrange to visit me in person. I have things to explain about the mission.

G

Xerxes read the paper again, then folded it up as many times as he could manage and stuck it in his boot. He finished his ale, left some money on the table, and left.

He made his way slowly back through the inner wall, then went to Zaidu’s.

Kashtiliash lounged at a table with a half-finished tankard. Xerxes sat with him. Given the lunch hour was approaching, they ordered some food.

“Where are the girls?” Xerxes asked.

“Out asking questions. Should be back soon. You get anything good?”

“Yeah.” Making sure no one was watching, he took out the note, unfolded it, and gave it to Kashtiliash. Around that time, Katayoun and Dasi entered.

The bearded mage read the paper and grunted. He gave the paper back to Xerxes. “Very open-ended.”

“At least we have a direction now,” Xerxes said as the two female mages sat down with them. “I guess step one is to get in there and talk to Gandy.”

Katayoun put her hand on his thigh and squeezed. “You found Gandash?”

“Sort of.” He gave her the note. She read it and passed it to Dasi.

“Conforms to the new information we got,” Katayoun said. “Nothing worth mentioning at this point from us, at least as far as Gandy goes. We do know more about the political situation, though. For example, the High Seer Musaru mentioned in the note is Sheik Hatim’s principal adviser. If you have to talk to her, you’re going to need to go across the river.”

“I saw bridges in the inner city,” Xerxes said. “Do they just let people go across?”

“Basically, yes,” Dasi answered. “But people associated with either faction—mages, soldiers, whatever—aren’t allowed through. I also got the impression they have lists of other people who they screen.”

“Like us?” Kashtiliash asked.

“I doubt it,” Katayoun said. “We didn’t get any indication people know about us. Gandash and the others must’ve kept their mouths shut.”

The food arrived, cutting their discussion short.

Xerxes washed down some couscous with a mouthful of ale. “I’m thinking we need to find a new place to stay. This place isn’t bad, but we’re on the wrong side of the river.”

“I agree,” Dasi said. “If Gandy’s here for Sheik Hatim, that means we’re basically in enemy territory.”

“No time to waste,” Xerxes said. “Let’s do it now. And we do it very carefully. For all we know, they’re expecting other members of Black Jackal, but that isn’t known publicly. So we cross one at a time using different bridges. Agreed?”

After finishing the meal, they settled the tab with Zaidu and went through the city to the east. After reaching the river, they walked south toward the nearest bridge, an open-air crossing that was wide enough for two carts to cross at the same time. Finding one of the numerous boardwalk balconies overlooking the water, they watched the bridge for a time to get a sense of how to pass it.

“Seems simple enough,” Katayoun said. “The guards let most people through, but randomly pull people over for questioning.”

“Every ten or fifteen people,” Kashtiliash added.

“Look over there,” Dasi said, pointing to a spot north of the bridge. There was a smoking cafe overlooking the river, with outdoor seating under parasols. “Why don’t we meet up there after we all cross?”

“Okay,” Xerxes said. “Dasi, you ready?”

“Yeah.”

Dasi left them, circling back through some streets and alleys. When she strolled across the bridge, the guards pulled her to the side.

“Shit,” Xerxes said. “What’s happening?”

“Fuckers think she’s hot, that’s all,” Kashtiliash said.

Katayoun made a spitting sound. “Kash’s probably right.”

A minute later, Dasi continued on her way. Just like that, she’d crossed. Xerxes led the way as they proceeded north toward the next bridge.

“If they pull me to the side,” Katayoun said, “they’d better not touch me. I’ll make them regret it.”

“Do it,” Xerxes said.

“But carefully,” Kashtiliash added.

Katayoun laughed. “I’m just kidding. Let’s go.”

They spent a few minutes observing the situation at this second bridge. The process for crossing seemed exactly the same.

“See you on the other side, Kash,” Katayoun said. “Xerk, do your thing then come find us back here. We’ll get another room and all that.” She pulled him to her and kissed him.

“Watch yourself,” Xerxes said. “And remember, if I can pull off a miracle, I will. Don’t expect me to meet up immediately.”

Then she was off. Xerxes and Kashtiliash watched as she crossed the bridge. The guards didn’t pull her aside. They continued northward to the last bridge in the outer city.

“See you,” Kashtiliash said.

Xerxes waited to make sure Kashtiliash made it across the bridge safely, then went back to the gate he’d already crossed through. One of the guards on duty recognized him and waved him through. Back inside the inner city, he took his time getting to the river.

The southernmost bridge was the largest and nearest, so he went in that direction.

Unlike the bridges in the outer city, these ones were covered, making it difficult to see what went on inside them. However, he could still see who was coming in and out of the bridge, so he picked a spot somewhat to the north that provided a good view. He waited for about an hour, watching the traffic coming and going.

The main thing that concerned him was his sword. Whether on Mannemid or Sin-Amuhhu, his status as a mage and a student meant that he’d never felt awkward carrying around a big weapon. But here, he was supposed to be an ordinary person, and it felt like the sword drew attention.

During the hour that passed, he saw one person with a longsword enter the bridge. And two came out. They wore different styles of clothing, but none were soldiers or mages. In terms of the actual weapons, he was too far away to judge their quality, but they seemed more than junk.

After seeing multiple longsword-wielders crossing the bridge, he felt more confident that his weapon wouldn’t be a problem. Taking a deep breath, he walked to the bridge with his sword held in the crook of his arm.

The bridge was divided in half, offering paths of traffic in either direction. On the left-hand side, people from the other side of the river were being questioned by soldiers in the uniforms he’d grown used to so far. Brown cloth with green highlights. They seemed to be questioning everyone.

Xerxes stepped onto the right-hand path, joining a line of about eight people. As the line moved forward, he realized that the soldiers on the other side were indeed stopping every person to ask questions.

The wait was maddening. Soon, he was next in line to be questioned, so he fidgeted as the soldiers about ten feet away talked to a young woman. He noticed that the soldiers here had the same uniforms. He could only guess it meant that the loyalist faction controlled this bridge entirely.

The soldiers eventually waved him over.

“Name and purpose for crossing?” one of the soldiers asked.

“Tamharu son of Alak,” he said. “I’m looking for a sword upgrade, and I heard there’s some nice stuff in Market Warren.”

“You study the Epitome?” a voice asked, high and grating.

Xerxes turned to see a young man entering the facility.

If Xerxes was to guess, he was probably about the same age as himself. But after the traveling, the combat, and the loss of life Xerxes had seen, there was something about this young man’s sparkling eyes that made him seem immature.

But what made Xerxes’ heart thump was the young man’s white, conical hat. And his robes, which were the same type that Enusat and Jad had worn when he first met them. It was the Jehannemid fashion for mages. This newcomer was a mage!

What was more worthy of note was the fact that the young mage had a longsword attached to a fancy sheath on his back. Xerxes’ impression had always been that people with sheathes like that were serious students of the sword.

“Seer Eskinder,” the guards said, and to a man they stepped back and bowed their heads respectfully.

Eskinder stopped about five cubits from Xerxes. “I asked you a question.”

“Sorry, Sir Mage,” Xerxes said hastily. “Er, I’ve heard of the Epitome. And I even took a few lessons. But I can’t claim to be a student of it.”

“Is that so?”

Xerxes glanced at Eskinder’s feet, and noticed that his stance was wide. His knees weren’t bent, but all it would take would be for him to slide his front foot forward, and he could draw his sword and be in the Skyward guard.

“That’s right,” Xerxes said. “I wish I had the time for the Epitome, but my duties—” Xerxes scrambled for a suitable story, and cursed himself for not preparing something in advance “—as a fishmonger make it hard to spend time on swordplay. I keep the sword mostly for show and fun.”

“Many do in this city,” Eskinder said. “Mind if I look at your blade?”

Xerxes had the feeling he’d made a mistake, though he wasn’t sure what it was. And he felt hesitant. He didn’t want to hand over his weapon to this mage. But Eskinder had worded it more like an order than a request. And even if it had been a request, was it smart to refuse?

“Of course,” Xerxes said, letting his sword slide down a bit, then grabbing it by the base of the blade and handing it to Eskinder.

The young mage smiled and stepped forward. His eyes seemed locked on Xerxes’ as he took the sword. He stepped back.

Xerxes stood in place, his heart pounding. Come on, look at the thing and hand it back to me. Then let me go. Nothing to see here.

“This is a nice weapon,” Eskinder said. He rubbed at the blade. “There’s a lot of oil and dirt on it.” He rubbed some more of the blade clean. “Nice steel. Either you’re an idiot who doesn’t know how to care for a weapon, or—” he looked back up at Xerxes “—you didn’t want anyone realizing you have a very quality sword. This is the kind of weapon you don’t generally see on a place like Jehannemid. I’d expect someone from Ira to have a sword as nice as this. Maybe even someone from Ku-Aya.” The young mages’ eyes narrowed slightly. “Who are you?”

Xerxes bit his lip and looked over his shoulder. He lowered his voice. “Look, the truth is that I don’t know anything about swords. This one used to be my grandfather’s. He took it as payment in some kind of business deal before I was born. He died a few years ago, and my dad inherited the sword. I know the thing’s worth a ton, and given what’s going on, I want to cash out. My dad doesn’t know…. Look, I’ll give it to you if you want it. A hundred shekels. Or, no, how about eighty?”

Xerxes tried to make himself sound as desperate as possible. The sword wasn’t worth half that, so he wasn’t worried about actually losing it. He just wanted to sell his act.

Eskinder looked back down at the sword. “If you think you’ll get fifty for this thing, you’re delusional.”

Without any warning, he tossed the sword in Xerxes’ direction. Xerxes grabbed it out of the air with one hand, then lowered it to his side so the tip pointed behind him.

“Thank you, Sir Mage,” he said. “I can only hope to find someone in the Market Warren who—”

Eskinder reached back, grabbed the hilt of his sword, and slid it out of the sheath, then stepped into the Skyward guard. “You’re not going anywhere yet. Given the way you handle that weapon, I think you do know of the Epitome. So get ready to take a blow.”