In the aftermath of Liraya's assault, Walton was restive and bright, its residents huddling inside their homes with lanterns, candles, and hearths lit. In the streets, the city guard patrolled with hands on their cudgels and eyes searching the sky. If death rained down tonight, this time they would be ready. And so Tiger took the thief's advice and stole a garrison uniform before heading out. While his Tuquese features still threw the city guards for a loop, his slow swaying and intermittent burps convinced them that he was a harmless off duty soldier drinking away his cares. He'd even left his sword at the estate to emphasize the "harmless" part. After breakfast that morning, Lord Kalan had taken him aside and asked Huan if he'd go with Dwayne to Bradford. Tiger had wanted to refuse, but where else was he going to go? This place reminded him of a dead man.

First though, he'd get his due.

At Walton's border where the houses of the well to do met the tents of the mercantile, Tiger found an inn. He sniffed the air and smiled. This was where the Vanurian inspector, who had come to collect Liraya and her corpses, was staying for the night. Whistling, he shuffled past the two story building with its freshly whitewashed walls, clean glass windows, and attached stable. Inside, a couple complained to each about only being able to host Vanurians. That was evidence enough that the inspector was still at the wake.

Still, I don't smell the- ah! The triple scents of dirt, death and magic wafted past his nose, mixed in with the stink of nervous horses. Tiger edged closer to the stable where two guards in breastplate and chainmail stood.

As they watched Tiger shuffle by, he didn't give them so much as a glance. I'll have to get around them first.

Entering the maze of tents and fires, Tiger slipped out of sight, removed the ugly uniform, and replaced his heavy boots with a much softer pair that hugged his feet like a second skin. The clothes he now wore were dark blue and gray, much better for hiding in shadows.He pushed the image of Sir Marcus's corpse out of his head. The old fool hadn't known what he was talking about, and what had happened to him wasn't Huan or Tiger's fault anyway. Here and now, Tiger was going to get his due, which had been denied him in the jungle.

Returning to the inn took just a moment, but right as Tigerreached the stable, a city guard patrol appeared, two women, one man. Cursing, Tiger slipped back behind a nearby tent and watched.

The patrol leader strolled up to the Vanurian soldiers. "Oi, what are you doing here?"

One Vanurian guard held up their hand. "Stop. This is property of Count Almeida." There was a soft trill in their voice. "No concern for the watch."

The patrol leader sneered. "Is that so?"

The Vanurian only said, "Yes."

"I bet they're hiding more of them things in there," said one of the other guards.

These three were spoiling for a fight. Tiger didn't have time for them to get involved. What would the local guard care about that two Vanurians wouldn't?

The thief muttered an answer from his corner.

Tiger grinned, slipped deeper into the tents, and cleared his throat. "Thief! Thief!"

Merchants burst out of their tents.

"A thief? Where?"

Tiger raised his voice. "They went that way! They took gold!"

"What? Gold? Guards! Guards!"

Tiger slipped away as the merchants ran about trying to find the mythical thief.

You enjoyed that too much.

Irony is quite funny. Tiger made his way back to the stable. As expected Walton's guards had disappeared, presumably to protect the property of the merchants, leaving the two Vanurian guards who were both nervously watching the commotion. Perfect. Tiger ran around to the back of the stable, scaled its walls, and then snuck across its roof. Below him the two guards muttered something in their tongue, their eyes still on the tents where calls of "Thief" echoed into the night.

Tiger took a big slow breath, blew it out, and bent over the edge of the roof. One of the guards stopped talking and Tiger froze. When a sword didn't stab him in the back, he kept going, grabbing the beam underneath the stable's roof and swinging his way in. Holding on to the beams by just his arms, he monkey climbed across the structure and dropped soundlessly on top of a massive tarp-covered cart attached to two black horses, who did not take to Tiger's presence. Their whinnies and snorts sent Tiger diving into an empty stall.

One of the Vanurians peeked into the stable. "Kei vu?"

"Mice?" replied the other.

The Vanurian shook their head and stepped into the stable to shush the horses, but they refused to relax.

Tiger cursed. Of course, horses don't like me. He'd had to walk back from the jungle because of this. A different tactic then. Leaning out of the stable, he caught the eye of both horses and let out a low growl. Both horses thrashed in their harness.

The Vanurian redoubled their attempts to calm them. "Kei behsha?"

Tiger kept up his growl, and when the horses realized they couldn't get away from him, they went still, shivering in their traces.

The Vanurian scratched their head. "Huh." They went back outside. "Phuro."

"Kei?"

"Kedeyo eh le sue."

"Eh. Kedeyo ema sue."

With the horses still and the Vanurians none the wiser, Tiger slipped out of his hiding place and climbed back into the cart, making sure to glare at the horses to keep them quiet. He pulled away the tarp and nearly gagged. While Liraya's body had been wrapped in a light colored cloth, the four Revenants had just been dropped into the cart uncovered. The still screaming faces of Melany and Zeya had paused Tiger's heart, but it was the stench from the two piles of charred flesh and bone that had made Tiger nearly blow his cover. He'd heard the official story that Magdala and her mother had done this with just a little assistance from Dwayne, but this was definitely the Wesen's work.

Shouldn't make him an enemy.

Tugging his eyes away from the giants' remains, Tiger searched the rest of the cart and found a black box. He opened it, and Zeya's knives, all four of them, glittered up at him. These were his due. There was only one other thing in the cart, a closely tailored men's suit, not too different from what Galkin wore. Before Tiger could investigate, the guards' voices called out.

"Inspectora!"

A new voice answered. "Mus vamos."

Shit! Tiger threw the tarp back over the cart, clutched the box of knives to his chest, and dove into a nearby stall.

Boots stomped into the stable. Something, probably the tarp, rustled. "Was anyone back here?"

Tiger opened the box and grabbed a knife. They'd take these away from his cold dead body.

"Non. Puer ie leh Souran?" asked one guard.

"Just answer the question. In Souran, please. I'm practicing."

"Just some city guards, Inspectora," said the other guard. "And a drunk soldier came by."

"A soldier?" said the boss. "What did he look like?"

"I wasn't paying attention to his face, Inspectora."

"He had black stringy hair," said the first guard.

"Ah," said the boss. "It was probably nothing then. Adlar Vanur. Mus vamos."

"Tsi, inspectora."

The cart rumbled out of the stable, allowing Tiger to breathe easy again. He waited several long moments and then fled into the night with his prize.