“Time to go,” said Terry.

The noble girl let out a surprised squeak when Terry grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the pile of screaming, bleeding, and apparently incompetent thugs. He took her down the first alley he saw, emerged onto a different, equally unfamiliar street, albeit one with less blood, and crossed the street. He took her down another alley and finally emerged onto a larger road. Larger roads are good, he thought. They usually go places people actually want to visit.

“Will you let go,” growled Kelima as she futilely tried to wrench her arm free from his grasp.

“Huh?” asked Terry, before he realized he was still holding her arm.

He’d forgotten that he’d grabbed her in the first place. He’d been so busy worrying that someone official would show up and start asking questions that it just slipped his mind. Shrugging, he opened his hand only to have the girl almost fall down as she tried again to pull free from a grip that didn’t exist anymore. She steadied herself against a nearby cart before glaring at him.

“Don’t glare at me,” he said. “You told me to let go. So, I did.”

“I wouldn’t have had to do that if you didn’t grab me and drag me through those filthy alleys.”

“It was better than the alternative.”

“What alternative?” she demanded while brushing at some mystery substance on her pants.

“The one where guards and nobles and Church people showed up.”

Kelima glared at him again and stalked closer before she whispered, “We should have stayed to talk to the guards at least.”

“Why?” asked Terry.

“So, they’d know what happened.”

“Who cares if they know? Besides, do you think they’re so stupid they won’t be able to figure it out? They’ll know who those idiots were and why they’re all injured.”

Terry didn’t actually feel as confident about those words as he tried to sound. He assumed the city guards were kind of like cops, and cops tended to know who the bad guys were in a given neighborhood. At least, that’s what his limited exposure to cop shows and movies told him. He wasn’t nearly as confident about the tropes that governed those kinds of stories, so he felt nervous about invoking one even in a halfhearted way. The very last thing he needed was to find himself sucked into some kind of murder mystery subplot inside the tropestorm that was Chinese Period Drama Hell.

He was much more confident that hanging around to talk to the guards would be a one-way ticket into some more familiar problem he didn’t want. No, it was better to get to a market and get the hell out while they still could. He glanced around and picked a place that looked like it was probably business. He walked over and poked his head inside. A severe-looking woman eyed him coolly from behind a counter.

“Yes?” she asked in a haughty tone.

Terry glanced around the interior and couldn’t figure out what kind of business it was supposed to be. He didn’t see shelves or anything obvious for sale. Still, the counter was a dead giveaway that the place was some manner of business.

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“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said. “I’ve just arrived in the city and seem to have gotten lost. If you could direct me to the nearest market square, I’d be very grateful.”

The woman’s expression didn’t change perceptibly, but Terry got the impression that she thawed a tiny bit toward him. Maybe she’d been expecting some kind of problem instead of a fairly innocent question.

“Oh, I see. Yes, I suppose it’s easy enough to get lost if you’re new. Very well. If you follow the road in that direction,” she said pointing, “you’ll come across a market square in about half a mile.”

“I appreciate the help. Thank you,” said Terry, ducking back out only to find Kelima giving him a strange look.

“What?”

“For twenty seconds there, it was like you were a sane person.”

“Transactional,” said Terry. “I wanted information. She wanted me to go away. Everybody won.”

He started in the direction the woman had indicated at a fast walk. Kelima kept pace but continued giving him looks.

“What?”

“Why are you in such a hurry?”

“Because God hates me. If I don’t hurry, someone is going to find us and start trouble.”

“I’m all for caution, but you need to calm down. We’re going to a market square. Nothing bad ever happens in a market square.”

Terry gave Kelima an aghast look.

“Why? Why would you ever speak those words out loud where the universe can hear you? Are you mad?”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you’re one of those people.”

“I am one of those people because that’s just how things work. You never, ever challenge the universe that way.”

“You’re being ridiculous. We’re going to go there, and everything will be fine.”

“Stop!” Terry almost screamed, drawing a few eyes. “We’re fucking doomed now.”

Rolling her eyes, Kelima asked, “What is it that you imagine is going to happen?”

“Before, I figured that I’d have to threaten some Church assholes or maybe some noble bastard who thinks they’re a special, special boy. Now? After you said all that shit, who the hell knows? A goddamn dragon will probably explode out of a farmer and try to kill us both.”

“I—” Kelima started.

“No! No more words from you until after we go to the market,” ordered Terry

He fixed the girl with his most I’m not fucking around with you right now looks. She shrank back a little. He did catch a few words of her grumbling under her breath as they walked, but all he heard was dragon, universe, and crazy. Terry truly hoped that the universe had been looking the other way while Kelima was busy trying to death flag them. When they did find the market, Terry didn’t bother with his usual approach of trying to find the best prices. He almost ran from stall to stall. The second he found someone selling something they needed; he bought it immediately at whatever price the person asked.

He knew he was getting gouged from the aggrieved looks Kelima kept shooting at him, but he didn’t care. He could almost feel calamity’s hot breath on the back of his neck. The disaster was coming. He could sense it approaching. He still hadn’t found everything he wanted. Standing still for a moment, he weighed the value of avoiding the trouble against finding himself in the wilderness without some crucial supplies. Fuck it, he thought. I’m adaptable. We’ll learn to live without it. Once again seizing Kelima’s arm, he started dragging her back toward the street.

“Why are you dragging me again?” she asked in a plaintive voice.

“You’ll thank me later.”

“I already told you, nothing bad ever happens—”

Terry wasn’t sure if Kelima stopped talking or if her words were simply lost in the terrifying roar and stupendous crash that came from behind him in the market. Head drooping, Terry released Kelima’s arm. He didn’t turn around. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Is that a gryphon?” asked a stunned Kelima.

“At least it’s not a dragon,” said Terry.

“This is just a coincidence,” said Kelima in a disbelieving voice. “There’s no way that this is my fault.”

“Terry Williams,” boomed a voice from the road. “I remember you well. I am the holy knight Alment Kingsten. Defender of the Holy Church. My unstained honor lets me stand between all evil and—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. The Douche Knight? Really?” said Terry as his eyes bored into the increasingly panicked-looking Kelima. “This is one hundred percent your fault.”