Our three cartmen bore us across the city in a turn and a half. As we dismounted and paid them, they wheeled off, shining with sweat and their purses jingling with nickel magnes. As for my companions and I, we had to straighten our hair and beat the dust off our clothes. We’d paid the men well for the quick ride, but no amount of tip could keep the trip from being an uncomfortable and dirty one. But in a city where people were in a greater supply than beasts of burden, we used what transportation we had.

Having had the cartmen let us off a little ways from Servant Feiyan’s compound, we walked the last bit on foot, keeping under the overhanging apartments and hoping the shadows and night would hide us from any watching eyes. Soon, her manor came into view. Pressing against the wall of a shop, we peered around the corner at it. Xaron whistled as we looked over the sprawling compound. “You don’t see that everyday in Port.”

It wasn’t the richest estate we’d ever seen, certainly not more than many in Iris and Bazaar, two of the richer demes of Oedija. Yet rising on a hill from the row of other houses and shops, it was practically a palace here in Port. Composed of an estate that stretched out towards a cliff, it encompassed a dozen times more space than any of its neighbors. Small gestures towards opulence had also been made in its decorations, but it seemed to me a performance more than a genuine display of extravagance. Feiyan’s rise may have been meteoric, but her coffers — and power — weren’t without their limits.

I pressed back against the shop wall. “Now I suppose we wait.”

“Not for long,” Nomusa murmured. “The glass mounted in the last forum read nine and a half turns. Eazal’s intermediary could be here at any moment.”

She was quickly proven correct. Barely a quarter-turn after we’d arrived, there was movement out of the darkness. I squinted at the figure approaching the manor gate, but it wasn’t until it stood before the two mounted pyr lamps that I saw the flash of silver. My breath caught. “It’s her. The woman from the sanctuary.”

“You’d think they’d send a less distinctive emissary,” Nomusa muttered.

“Well, here she is.” Xaron looked between Nomusa and me. “Do you have any bright ideas, or can I do what I’m best at now?”

I shared a look with Nomusa. We’d briefly discussed what to do once we saw the contact earlier, but hadn’t come to any consensus. Just seeing her in association with the Servant wasn’t enough to get us very far in finding out who was behind Agmon’s murder. To locate our next lead, we had to actually overhear the conversation between Feiyan and this intermediary. Which called for a house-break.

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It was exactly the last thing we wanted to do.

Five years before, near the beginning of when Nomusa and I started working together as Finches, we didn’t have many rules in our quest to succeed. Only one: no house-breaks. If we couldn’t hear the whispers by other means, we figured we weren’t worth our salt as Verifiers.

Of course, we only made this rule after Nomusa convinced me to break into a whorehouse owner’s private solar, and I was nearly caught by the burliest woman I have ever seen. Needless to say, the experience was bruising enough to keep both Nomusa and me adherent to the rule.

Until, that is, Xaron came along two years ago and turned everything upside. We met Xaron when he broke into a house that we had been staking out to find out who had stolen a pair of trousers, an incident more significant than it sounds on its face. After a series of misunderstandings, he ended up moving into Canopy with us and becoming a Finch.

I had tried my best to ensure all of us stuck to our rule of no house-breaks. But as a warden, Xaron’s gifts sometimes made it too easy to consider breaking it when options became limited. Like now, for instance.

I didn’t want Xaron to do it. I didn’t want him to feel eager like he always did when he had a chance to use his magic beyond the simple parlor tricks he practiced in Canopy. If he was caught, it wouldn’t just mean imprisonment like it would for Nomusa and I. Living as a feral warden outside the confines of the Acadium warranted death. And with the law enforced by Shepherds, battle-trained wardens who were indoctrinated into the rules of the demotism, it was no mean risk. But I saw no other option than to give up, and resign ourselves to potentially more people dying at the hands of this woman’s master.

Nomusa nodded her assent, and I sighed. “Fine. You can do it.”

Xaron immediately started to head away, but I arrested him with a hand on his arm. “But if you run into trouble, give us the signal. All right?”

He flashed a grin. “I won’t need to.” The next moment, he had taken off at a lope, sticking to shadows on the opposite side of the compound. No doubt he searched the perimeter for the best entry point.

I watched him disappear into the darkness. Suddenly, I found myself wishing we’d taken the time to stop by Canopy. There, I had a Finch mask and a Tribunal medallion I might have used in case he did need our aid. Even if he gave the signal, at this moment, I had no idea what we could to do help.

Then an idea occurred to me.

“I have to go somewhere,” I told Nomusa hurriedly.

“What?” she hissed, eyes narrowing. “Where are you going? We have to make sure Xaron makes it out safely.”

“That’s what I intend to do.” I quickly told her my plan before I hurried off into the dark alleys of Oedija.