I needed to come back here and steal this bed.

My apartment’s bed had hardly been the worst place I’d slept, indeed an improvement over the gutter, the street, or even coffin beds, all of which I’d endured over my years in the Quarter. But this bed was to my apartment’s bed what the apartment’s bed had been to the coffin bed. It even had feathers in the mattress!

My body felt like giving into the temptation to rest a few minutes more, but I’d slept long enough. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome, and I didn’t want to be late for my appointment today. If I missed this opportunity, who knew when I could find it again?

By the time I was up and dressed in my only change of clothing, there was a swift knock on the door.

It took a second to remove the chair I’d wedged in there, then to undo the lock and latch. Edwards was on the other side, with a platter and a teapot.

“Tea?” the bartender offered.

I gave it a suspicious look. “Not free, I’m assuming.”

“You’d be right in that regard. And double the usual price as well.”

This better be the end of that. If I showed up here in a week and he tried charging double…well I supposed I wouldn’t be showing up as Katheryn Falara. It wouldn’t matter.

The advance payment from Lord Montague grew smaller and smaller as I counted a pair out of the swiftly slimming coin purse. I passed them to Edwards, and we both sat down at a small table.

“I’m assuming you don’t always visit guests every morning?” I asked, while sipping from the cup.

“No. And normally I wouldn’t bother with this either. But because you’re a good customer, and you paid upfront and didn’t sneak out the window overnight, I’m going to give you some advice.”

I took a sip of the tea, considering the bartender. I didn’t imagine he personally woke up every guest, so this was something he felt was important. “I’m waiting, Mr. Edwards.”

“You should sneak out the window. Or the back door, but probably the window. Right now.”

Ah, joy, that kind of advice. “I am going to presume there are people downstairs waiting for me? I hope they haven’t been forceful.”

“No, none of them have been yet, but there’s a good ten members of the watch down there claiming they’ve been posted here till the marches stop. Might actually be true, but Voltar’s partner Dawes is also down there, ordering breakfast.”

I frowned. Edwards was right. The Watch might be here for the marches, assuming they expected more to take place. Dawes’ presence…

“Mr. Edwards, how could you know that Mr. Voltar and Mr. Dawes might be after me?”

The Bartender gave me an abashed grin. “Tolman talks. He let slip yesterday evening that you’ve been caught up in some mystery of theirs?”

“That I have,” I replied. Godsdmanit Tolman, what the hells were you thinking?

Oh, which one is Tolman? Is it Quelvan? Marchtes? Juliana? Kassera? Dalxian? Sounds like the trust placed in them was mistaken.

I ignored the imp for the most part, although it hadn’t slept when those last three names had passed. It must be a trick, pretending it still thought they were alive. Nothing about the suppression should have touched the creature’s memories.

“Mr. Edwards, I realize I’ve not been the most pleasant patron as of late.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Although the coins helped ease that some.”

“Could I get a favor?”

“If it’s within reason, you can have a favor. Just not asking me to fight the Watch. Or stalling them. I do not want the Watch deciding I’m a person of interest.”

“It shouldn’t result in too much attention. I may require some help to leave if it isn’t too much to ask?”

“Depends on the help. And it’ll cost you.”

“Of course it will. I could hardly expect anything else. I suppose the first thing is, do you have a spare change of clothes in my size?”

***

When this entire mess was over, I was going to head to a clothing store and spend two hours inside.

The spare clothes had ended up being a mixture of yellow and red remnants of two different outfits, which a hooded cloak mostly covered. Otherwise, I might have risked just having the Watch take me in. My last remaining outfit was on its way out, and hopefully, I could pick it back up later.

One barmaid who’d been red-skinned and about my current size had been willing to face a bit of danger in return for coin. She’d wear my old clothes and walk around the block, returning in a couple of minutes—all the time I needed.

Not all of them would leave to follow the barmaid, of course. Just enough to make slipping out easier. The barmaid went out the front, and after half a minute I went out the back window, ready to drop into the alleyway.

She’d claim I approached, then paid her to change clothes after delivering breakfast, leaving Edwards out of it. Oh, some suspicion would fall on him, but not enough that he hadn’t agreed to do this little stunt to draw attention away from my exit.

There were people watching the alleyways, of course. And also people watching the rooftops. I couldn’t avoid being spotted leaving. What I could do was to avoid being caught, and maybe even tailed. I wasn’t doing anything illegal, but I could not afford delays and I also could not afford to be caught. Not today of all days.

When I’d scheduled this, I hadn’t expected it to have this much importance. Circumstances were forcing my hand now.

Goodbyes would have to be said today and needed to be said before I went through with leaving.

Hanging down from the ledge first, I dropped, hoofs hitting the ground. Within seconds I was out of the alley, running.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

***

The Silver Street of Liberation had seen better days.

The cobblestone highway that was the route the then-Shining Princess and her forces had taken during the last battle for Avernon must have been quite the sight back in the day. I’d read accounts of the entire street’s surface gleaming silver, created from the melted, transmuted bodies of Her Profane Majesty’s royal guard division.

However, flesh transmuted to melted silver made for a terrible road, so they’d had it removed and settled for an alchemical substance that looked like silver. No one had replaced that coating in a while, so in worn spots, you could see the cobbles underneath.

I kept to the outskirts, away from the carriages. Traffic control on the highway was better than most, which meant only a tiny chance of being run over. They weren’t even the most dangerous things on the roadway.

The ground shook as it passed, each step making the earth jolt for yards around it. A loose ring of people in red and silver robes of the artificer guilds stood around it, both to keep people away from it and probably guide it.

Steam hissed from eight pipes mounted on its back, and from its joints as well, spewing into the sky. Eight thick metal legs were in constant motion, only four on the ground at any one time. The body resembled a drider, a large humanoid torso in the center of a spider-like body of metal. Probably what had inspired the design to begin with.

It moved slowly, which was a surprise. I’d seen a similar device do a race against a horse and keep pace the entire track. Well, it did well until the track curved. Then the automaton plowed through a wall instead.

I eyed the circle of artificers again. Were they testing keeping it at a walking pace and under directions?

A pipe emitted a burst of steam accompanied by a squeal. Everyone else in the vicinity and I decided the artificers could use more space. Hundreds of feet of space, in fact.

The automation was out of my sight before I heard wood being smashed and yelling. Hopefully, all it had done was smash a coach without hurting anyone inside.

A clock chimed in the distance, possibly the Astrologist’s Tower. It chimed twice before going silent.

Two in the afternoon? Four hours had passed, too much time, but I’d wanted to lose as many tails as I could. If any still followed me, they were too good for me to spot. That was fine. Katheryn Falara had legitimate business here. It was only going where I would need to lose them.

Mind you, it wasn’t hard to track me. I was perhaps the only Infernal in the mass of people for fifty feet in any direction.

A hooded cloak only did so much. I was getting glances that turned into stares as I walked along the side of the road. People kept their distance, hands in their pockets to protect wallets and coin purses. As long as they kept to that, there wouldn’t be any problems.

Honestly, I was a little glad to see that response. It was the usual for this area, which meant those marchers hadn’t shifted the city’s overall mood. At least not yet, given enough time I had no doubts times outside the Quarter would become worse. I hadn’t stuck around the Quarter to see if they were marching again.

I took a left onto Landsmen, the narrower street a little more cramped. I took some amusement with how far some went to stay away from me on the more crowded street.

Not for long. My destination towered ahead, five stories tall and looking like a combination of a church and a hospital. These days, it could claim to be the latter.

St. Lanian’s started as a hospital run and later dedicated to a priestess who cared for the poor and downtrodden. Over time, it had grown larger, especially as various nobles wanted to be seen as helping the poor. More donations meant more sway with the hospital, until eventually, St. Lanian’s clientele became much more exclusive.

Oh, there were hospitals dedicated in the saint’s name who did her original work, and there’d been some hoopla when a paladin channeling the Saint’s divine spirit had castigated the hospital as having abandoned the ideals she valued. It had taken some of the shine off the hospital, if not the name.

The front entrances were bustling as always, mostly with visitors and staff, although the occasional carriage came up with patients. I went to the side entrance instead. Trying to prove to people I actually was on the approved visitor list took time. So I’d just bribed the usual guard for the side entrance at this time of day.

By the time I got there though, it was closed, which was a poor sign. I’d taken too long to get here, which meant not only dealing with hospital staff I didn’t usually interact with, it meant something far worse. Some of my mother’s relatives might be visiting. Joy.

I usually scheduled around their usual visiting hours, only meeting once every few months to handle the finances. As far as they knew, I was a professional associate of their sister’s never to be sufficiently damned child, entrusted by her with money to help pay for half of the fees to keep their sister treated here.

It was a perfectly awkward arrangement for all involved. They knew that the only reason Mother was being treated in such a prestigious establishment was the money of the family member they’d exiled, and I had to deal with the family members who’d consigned Mother and me to the Infernal Quarter. Pleasant interactions every time, just with an undercurrent threatening to drag the entire conversation to the depths to drown at the slightest misstep.

It also meant I would be dealing with the front entrance after all.

***

Nearly an hour had passed before I’d convinced the gate guards I had legitimate business inside the hospital and was not some manner of delivery person, servant, or other member of the lower class who shouldn’t dare track mud into the great St. Lanian’s.

The fact I had utterly mud-free hooves didn’t matter. I’d resisted the urge to lift the most obnoxious of the guard’s coin purse with my tail. It had been right out in the open! But I knew who would be the first on the list of suspects.

I’d thought at least past the guards, it would get easier. It had not.

“Are you sure you aren’t the latest coffin delivery person?” the nurse asked me again, peering over thin wire-rimmed spectacles down at me. “Mr. Ferguson has the most peculiar sense of humor, and this matches a joke he pulled last year.”

Oh, yes, the grand joke of an Infernal being on the list of approved patient visitors.

I’d arrived so late an entire shift change had taken place. Which meant nurses who didn’t know me, and worse, had not been bribed by me.

“I am quite sure I’m not here to deliver coffins. I am here to see Bao Xang, as the representative of her daughter, Lily Xang, to make sure her care is being maintained. If you doubt me, you can check with Dr. Martins.”

Not that he liked me very much, but I’d trust his professionalism to not pretend I was a deliverer of coffins.

One nurse made a gesture in the corner of my eye, one easily recognizable. There were only so many signs on the streets showing when you thought someone had taken all leave of their senses. I turned my head towards the movement, enjoying the sight of the nurse pretending to do something else.

“I can assure you, I’m not here because of a joke. There should be a K. Falara listed as an approved guest?” I asked.

The nurse at least went to check the patient listings instead of yelling for security to throw me out. “There is a K. Falara listed, but do you have any way we can identify you as her?”

Ah, the joys of being on the reverse side of the very thing I’d demanded from Gregory Montague. I was quite sure she would not be demanding this of most people who walked in here, but maybe that was just paranoia speaking.

“Dr. Martins can confirm who I am, if you could just fetch him for a second?”

“Dr. Martins is busy with a patient,” the nurse informed me. “If you insist, you can take a seat till he’s finished with his current patient. If not, I will have someone escort you out of the building.”

Well, I had no doubts about how friendly that escort would be. I resigned myself to waiting even longer. There were other things I needed to do, like tracking down my three boxes, but trying to force this issue would be the wrong move. Even if their divine sponsor had long ago withdrawn support from this place, they would have holy water to use on me.

“Miss Falara?” a too-familiar voice asked.

I froze, then spun around, drawing on my Sculpts. The mask would need to be perfect today.

“Mister Xang!” I greeted him, turning as I pulled on tendons to force a smile. Gingerly, it should be made to look more natural no matter the urge to snap it into place.

Even if I was deserting this identity, there would be no hints to him who I actually was. To call the results of that discovery inconvenient if it happened would be an understatement.

Liu Xang was tall, perhaps six and a half feet tall, with a scholar’s build, and was dressed in a not-so-fancy suit. He wore a scarf despite the warm weather, to hide noose scars I wasn’t supposed to know he had. He returned my smile, warm eyes peering over a set of spectacles. They wouldn’t be so warm if he knew who I really was.

He also was my uncle.