Pashar didn’t know how much time had passed when she came to. The sun had lowered significantly, fully casting the alleyway into shadow. Outside, she could still see and hear people puttering back and forth in the market.

Wincing and clutching her head, she staggered to her feet. Crusted blood peeled off as she leaned against the wall for support. I can’t stay in this city for much longer, she thought. Not injured and alone, without weapon or powers.

She could feel it resting in her center. Slowly spinning on itself, twisting itself into odd shapes. A near invisible smoke ran through it, yet unavailable to her. Not by force, but by rule. Pashar clenched her teeth and walked to the mouth of the dark street.

Guards still patrolled the market in plentitude. Dozens of men and women roaming the square, marked by their uniforms and careful gait. They ranged the gamut of normal person to weak second-stage tethered. If she got caught in a shop, she wasn’t getting away.

I’ll need to find another place, she thought. Where a lot of money trade hands but with fewer guards.

She stayed in the alleyway watching the market, hoping to find something to spark the imagination. Occasionally, the guards would pass by and spot her, but so long as she stayed out of the square, they didn’t care. With her ragged clothes and now appropriately roughed up appearance, she looked like a street rat.

A group of men and women caught her eye. One of them, the leader, it appeared, was fairly exuding weak second-stage power. The rest of the group, two men and two women non-tethered, were avidly following him as he passed through.

A young graduate, Pashar thought, she nearly dismissed him out of hand, except. He’s not at the front lines. If he’s fighting, then he’s not your average tethered. Sure enough, a closer examination revealed the tailored cut of their clothes. Rich merchants or nobles.

Pashar glanced at the sky. It was getting late; the sun was setting, but this group looked fresh. Where could a group of young influentials be going at this time of day? Pashar thought with a grin.

Skulking through the back ways, it only took a bit of logic before Pashar found where they passed through the market. Following behind them, they turned to a darker part of the city. Not the true slums, where filth and waste littered the streets. The rich slums, where lights were interspersed carefully to seem more dangerous and there weren’t quite so many guards on the street.

They stopped in front of a low, wide building. The grayish green haze rising out of the windows attested to its purpose. Not a drinking house, but a smoking house. By the stagger of some patrons, Pashar guessed it was a variant of rysten. One with hallucinogenic properties.

Sneaking her way around the building, Pashar found a window cracked just enough to provide a bit of breeze. It opened over a booth. The two addicts looked halfway out of their minds, lounging in plush seats, eyes closed, fingers trembling lightly. The saccharine stench emanating from their hookah twisted at her nostrils as Pashar leaned through the window to look inside.

Scowling, she peered over the smokehouse. The counter was towards the back of the room, next to a shuttered window. A slight sneer twitched at her lips before she stilled herself. Remember Master Saif’s words, she told herself. As she watched, the group of young nobles got seated in a bigger booth, a servant working on the water pipe’s coals.

Next to them, at a table, sat three hulking men. They must’ve come straight from work, since they hadn’t even bothered to remove their tabards. Closing her eyes, Pashar tried to remember the symbol across their chest and back. Either this was an odd variant or she hadn’t memorized who they belonged to.

Licking her lips, she peered closer at the situation. The young graduate was talking loudly, waving his arms around wildly. Loud, rambunctious, she thought. Clearly out to show himself off. He’s even exuding his spirit. She shook her head. The vast majority of people wouldn’t even recognize what he was doing. But he could be useful…

When she judged no one was watching, Pashar slipped through the window. She had to crawl across the hookah table, but the two druggies didn’t even react to her passing. Crouching low, she hid next to their lounges and made sure she still had the copper wire and hair clip on her.

Even though this place was for the rich, the lack of active visible guards increased the odds of robbery significantly. She was sure they would store any valuables in safes and vaults. A temporary safe where the days’ more expensive earnings would be put and a vault that would only be opened at the end of the night, when no one was around.

Luckily, she wouldn’t need the contents of the vault. The floor of the den was littered with lounging seats and small tables for the pipes, combined with the thick gray-green haze and she was as close to invisible as she’d get without using her powers.

Slinking closer to the guards, her heartbeat sped up as she heard them talk. Mostly, they were muttering about their day, words slurring slightly. They were already affected by the smoke. The guy in the middle, smaller than the others, was an obsidian cloak. He also looked like he could barely sit up straight.

She couldn’t help the smile as she saw the intricate knives they wore on their belt. Both pommel and sheath marked with the same squiggly sun symbol as the one on their uniforms.

With a deft hand, she lifted the knife from the sheath of the obsidian. He rocked slightly in his seat, muttering to himself.

“What’s that?” his buddy asked, not looking up from the smithy puzzle he was twiddling with.

The noble and his friend had just gotten their drinks served. Pashar threw the knife at their table, just hoping to knock the tethered’s drink over. The blade was ornamental and weighted oddly, however. The bronze knife sailed right by the noble’s glass and into the woman sitting next to him.

Light erupted from his hands as he flew out of his booth. Leaping from the lounge hard enough, he nearly touched the support beams. “Who threw that?”

Pashar winced and scurried off to blend in with the corner. Thankfully, her ragged gray clothes fit in perfectly with the smoke. The light tethered noble hadn’t thrown any attacks yet, but found the knife and matched it to the guardsmen sitting a few tables over.

Pashar watched as the man behind the counter looked up, frowning at the noise and light. His face went pale at seeing what was going on. Already, waiters were approaching the table. He did not deem them enough and stepped out himself.

Smiling, Pashar slipped behind the counter in the mess. She found it quickly. The small safe was nailed into the furniture, but the keyhole looked elementary. She slid clip and wire in with deft fingers. It was only a two pins. Smirking to herself, she opened the safe, revealing the coins within.

As expected of a place that served nobles and rich merchants, they had a terrifying surplus of stupendously high value coins. Silver circles were stacking twenty high and five deep in multiple rows. A much smaller stack of gold coins sat in the other compartment. Came with the business of making change for people whose grandfathers made them rich.

She slipped five into her pockets and a sixth one into her shirt for safekeeping.

“Hey!”

Pashar’s head shot up. A waiter was standing at the other end of the counter, glaring at her. “What are you doing?”

Jumping to her feet, she unlatched the window as the man put his tray down. “Sir!” he called. She heard the manager curse loudly, as a fresh breeze washed over her and the window opened. She leapt through agilely. Rushing down the street, she heard the doors slam open. A beam of light more closely resembling the shine of a torch fell on her, as the noble tried to burn her alive.

Pashar dove into an alley before he could get his shit together. Obsidian power rising behind her, but it was even sloppier than the noble’s attempt. She wasn’t worried about them, however. She worried about the dozens of guards that would be on her momentarily if she didn’t get to a safe place.

How far away was Master Saif? She thought, attempting to recall the route through an unfamiliar city while vaulting piles of trash, was more difficult than it sounded. Only made worse by the rapidly changing conditions. Dark was coming on fast now. She could feel the temperature drop in real time, which meant they were close to or in the desert.

Not that such information helped her much.

She staggered to a halt as the alleyway opened up unexpectedly. The market square. It was far different this time. All the shops were closing down, only a few handfuls of customers roamed the entire site. There were fewer guards as well, and they didn’t appear to have heard her pursuit yet.

She glanced around the square, seeing the alley she’d been thrown in before. It was a few doorways over from the rich clothing store she’d been trying to steal from. In fact, she could see the merchant now. The overweight man was pulling in displays, draping silk cloths carefully.

Pashar hesitated. The noise from behind her was growing louder. If she ran through the square now, the guards were going to wonder what was happening. They might even stop her. If they held her up for even slightly too long, then she would have to use her powers to escape. In which case, she might as well have said goodbye to Master Saif that morning.

She needed a safe house, and she needed it now. Looking at the merchant’s store again, she saw him pulling in the second-to-last stand.

It’ll just have to work.

She ripped her hair out of her bun. Then eyes the little bit of runway she had to the merchant. Deep breath, she told herself. As he stepped out to grab his last item, she ran for him. He startled and nearly dropped the table. “Please, sir!” she called. That’s far enough. She stumbled. Falling, Pashar broke the tumble with her knee, sliding it on the sand and obsidian covered stone.

The pain was excruciating. The sudden throbbing hurt that made the plane sway around her. With watery eyes, she looked up at the merchant, who she’d slid to a halt in front of. She could just imagine the eyes of half a dozen guards boring holes into her back. “Please sir,” she whispered. “These men,” she cradled her bruised and slightly bloody face. “They tried to take me…”

She could see his facade melt slightly.

“I don’t need much,” she reached out, grasping the hem of his shirt. “Just a place to stay for the night. To remain safe.”

The merchant swallowed once, then glanced around. “You can stay in the storage room, but just for tonight. Okay? And you have to be out before we open.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she whispered, pushing to her feet. Her right pant leg had ripped, and she was bleeding freely.

“Let’s get you inside,” he ushered her in, moments before another set of guards began emerging from different alleyways. Pashar could hear them as she limped into the merchant storage room. “Don’t get any blood on my wares, you hear?”

This appeared to be the raw wares, lengths of cloth and silk hung from the walls or rested on shelves. As she staggered inside, she saw someone come down from the upstairs apartment of the store. A young girl with dark hair hanging loose, much the same shade as Pashar’s own. With her own hair down, they looked much the same, though Pashar seemed far more distressed than his daughter.

He slammed the door shut and Pashar heard it lock with a heavy thunk. Reaching into her pockets, Pashar grimaced as she only found the coins. She’d left her tools in the safe. Glancing around, she didn’t find any windows in the storeroom. Laying down with watering eyes, knee freely bleeding onto the dirty floor, Pashar realized she would just have to hope she’d played hard enough into the merchant’s sympathy.

“And now you’re hoping my sympathy will outweigh your words and actions,” Ranvir said, glaring at Pashar across from him.

She winced. “I… I don’t know, Ranvir,” she sighed. “I guess I’m hoping you’ll give me another chance.”

Ranvir was silent for a time. “I’ll consider it,” he waved his hand, opening a tunnel, using his tether-sense to pinpoint its terminus. It revealed a startled pedestrian standing next to the statue of Phormos in Eriene’s city square. Pashar nodded and stepped through the short tunnel before the civilian attempted to cross it.