Adrian, for his part, kept away from me while I cased the street. I spotted Marco sticking his head out of the pub once or twice to make sure that things were still as he left them, before promptly moving back inside. I made sure not to give him any reason to investigate what was going on outside.

I found a good spot to hide in wait for the men carrying the cash, or whatever else they intended to use as a bribe. It was unlikely that anyone too important was going to show their face at the meeting. Cedric and Robert Van Gervan would be stupid to put themselves out in the open with a zero-trust relationship.

Robert was worried about the people who’d been attacking his gang members over the past week. There were two publicly known incidents and one that only I and Kelly were witness to. All three of the attackers used powerful magic abilities that would have killed any less than a grade-five mage.

Grade fives were already exceptionally rare. The academy was overjoyed to find that two of them were attending the magic elective, so to have three of them working under a single banner suggested that something more sinister was going on. Either they had carefully cultivated a group of loyal grade-five mages to do their bidding, or they’d discovered a method by which they could essentially create them from thin air.

That was troublesome. Grade five mages were the primary concern when the registry was first introduced. The destructive power that a single person could wield and unleash without warning was too much for the government to ignore any longer. With political radicalism and participation making a meteoric rise, controlling the public mood was more important than ever.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was the Gladstone Bridge incident. It was an important trade route along a coastal road. The low-lying marshland there was difficult to cross, so a series of long bridges were constructed to make travel easier. They were considered engineering marvels, utilising the latest materials and construction techniques to leap across huge, previously unmatched distances.

Gladstone Bridge was further along the coast. After an incident wherein a member of the Walser Socialist Party was attacked by an MP from the Southern Conservatives, a party supporter took matters into their own hands and decided to try and hit them where it hurt. He snuck beneath one of the brick support pillars and destroyed it with a powerful magical blast, causing the entire strut to buckle and give way. Luckily it was done late at night and nobody was hurt.

There was a long debate over how to address incidents such as those. Some MPs pushed for the Socialist Party to be disbanded and outlawed, but most of the other parties considered carefully what kind of precedent that would set and moved for a more general approach.

Mages weren’t a protected class to be frank – which meant they served as a convenient collective scapegoat for the political violence that led to the bridge attack in the first place. There was never any chance of the MPs reflecting on their own behaviour and seeing what type of message it sent to the party supporters. They went for the quickest and easier option instead.

Make a big list with all known mages, containing their names, ages, appearances and grades. It was the singular government database of that type. It was an unparalleled experiment in government recordkeeping and surveillance. While many would naturally slip through the cracks over time, the ones who sought true, potentially dangerous knowledge about magic from the institutions would be forced to register.

WISA were likely tearing their hair out over it. All that work and the registry were useless when it was needed the most. All of a sudden finding a way to make a mage out of a regular person sounded like a power that some in government and high society would covet. If they were under your employ you could make a private army and they would be none the wiser.

Activity finally caught my attention. I poked my head out from my hiding place and spotted a small group of people rounding the corner and approaching my location. Given the quality of their dress and the conspicuous leather bag that one of them was holding, it was a foregone conclusion that they were the negotiators I was waiting for.

Much to my irritation – the bagman wasn’t alone. There were two other men with him, who I had to assume were armed and ready to shoot should a threat present itself. None of the three men were ones I recognized, and Cedric himself wasn’t going to delve in and get his hands dirty.

What I could see was the form of what was inside of the brown leather the bagman was carrying with him. I knew a bag filled with cash when I saw it. Surely it wouldn’t come as a surprise if an enterprising thief were to swoop in and take it from them in such a crime-ridden area of the city.

I lurked in wait. There was no time for me to take a strategic approach, which meant that hitting them fast was the preferable option. I pulled the mask over my face and concealed my identity. I tuned out the noise and prepared to dash between them. My heart froze as they crossed the boundary and came into plain view from between the brick walls.

I ran into the fray. The man in the middle was my target.

I reached out and grabbed the bag’s strap and resolved to not let it go no matter what happened. The man holding it was shocked by the sudden appearance of a masked person who was no less than three heads shorter than him. By the time he figured out what was going on it was too late to engage in a game of tug-of-war with me. The strap was already loosened from his shoulder, and with a firm yank, it slipped from his fingers and into my arms.

I staggered back into the wall behind us and turned to run away. I slipped beneath a pair of outstretched arms and moved through the alleyway as quickly as I could, hampered by the short length of my legs.

The bag was definitely filled with money. The thick bundles of notes were both solid and liquid, shifting between the grip of my hands and making it difficult to keep a hold of under duress. These guys were seriously stupid if they thought bringing a physical bag filled with cash on a first meeting was a sound idea. Even if I wasn’t around to steal it – then the gang members would have helped themselves in the same way.

“Stop her! She’s getting away with the bag!”

I could hear their feet splashing through the puddles that had been left in the cracked stonework. They were close and getting closer. I’d have to rely on some strategies lifted from my thief friend if I wanted to get away with my ill-gotten gains. The first trick was to keep them guessing. The city was filled with different pathways and routes, and also groups of people using the sidewalk who could act as obstacles for pursuers. I approached the left side of the pathway but juked right and dodged one of their attempts to grab the back of my shirt.

It seemed that using their weapons wasn’t on the cards. They still wanted to make the meeting without causing any fuss, and nothing would slow them down quite like having to answer questions when the police came knocking. They were faster than me – but it was unlikely that they could keep up the pace should the chase go long.

I intended to lose them before stamina ever became a factor.

I weaved through groups of people on the sidewalk, using my smaller size to get through gaps that they had to avoid. One of them tried to run in the street’s gutter to avoid them but almost got wiped out by a moving carriage in the process. I could hear the driver yelling at him over my deep breaths.

The rain-covered ground made every step treacherous. I was the only one wearing footwear suitable for the weather. I ducked another attempt to restrain me from behind, and the pursuer slipped on the cobblestone and went sliding off of the curb and into a puddle on the road.

“Stop her! Stop that girl!”

His pleas for the bystanders to step in fell on deaf ears. Nobody was going to risk hurting themselves playing the hero to stop someone they would assume was merely a pickpocket. Pickpockets were a common sight, dime a dozen, and they knew that catching one didn’t get them off of the streets. They’d be out of jail and working the same block again by the next day.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I kept running. My legs were starting to burn, but the balance of power between our stamina levels was starting to become evident. They couldn’t keep going at this pace for much longer and I was starting to pull away. Happy that I’d made a large enough gap between us, I headed down the same alleyway that Kelly used and leapt over the fence.

The two still on my tail ran to the fence and tried in vain to get over it, but I was already out of the other end and on my merry way before they could even think about grabbing something to boost them over. I didn’t slow down. I maintained the same speed until I was absolutely certain that they couldn’t follow.

My last stop was a courtyard that I’d picked out. It was through a narrow arched passage that allowed horses and carts to move across the block. Just when I thought I was home free – a silhouetted figure stepped out in front of me and blocked my way. I came to a sudden stop with the bag still clutched to my chest.

It was Marco.

Somehow, he had followed me. I had no idea how he managed that. They made a lot of noise about a thief running away with their valuables, but was that enough to pull Marco away from his post to see what was going on? He looked very cross with me.

“Enough of these games. I take it that the bag has our money in it?”

“It isn’t your money until you claim it for yourself. How did you get here?”

Marco shrugged, “I knew you were going to run this way. You street urchins are all the same, learning the same routes, and using the same strategies. It makes it extremely predictable. I only had to wait here for you to break off from the chase.”

He predicted that I’d run all the way here from the pub. Marco was blocking the only way out. Back the way I came was occupied by the three men sent by Cedric.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“I stepped out to get some fresh air – and I heard the men we were supposed to meet crying out about a thief.”

Marco paused, the gears in his brain ticking over as he came to recognize my voice.

“Wait a moment, don’t tell me...”

I laughed and pulled the mask up, revealing the culprit to him.

“You have to be kidding me,” he despaired, “Maria Walston-Carter?”

“The one and only.”

“Is this about what happened with your Uncle?”

“While I do find that situation distasteful, I am not spiteful enough to go to this kind of effort for the sake of getting revenge. It is nothing more than a coincidence.”

Marco didn’t like speaking with me. My high-minded accent and choice of verbiage were a stark contrast to his street-wise persona. He was already getting wound up. I unclipped the top of the bag and checked the contents. It was stuffed to the top with more Walmark bills than I could count. There must have been at least a million.

“They weren’t joking about the money, huh?”

“They’re quite serious about buying Van Gervan’s loyalty. I’ve been looking into a matter for a friend. I gathered a lot of interesting information, including about an attack that happened near Church Walk a few days ago, and that a certain someone gunned the attacker down and turned the body over to the police.”

“Evidently my friends have been speaking out of turn again.”

“You are a smart gentleman, so I’m confident that you already understand what’s going on here. These attacks are obviously connected to the Church Walk renewal project that the nobles won’t shut up about.”

“Maybe. If that’s the case, why is Cedric Roderro sending a big bag of money to Robert Van Gervan?”

“Cedric Roderro is a craven backstabber, but he has a low tolerance for risk. He’s also the type of man to not become too invested in violent means. This is his last chance to avert any further violence in Church Walk.”

Marco frowned, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s conjecture. A conspiracy like this does not operate at the whim of a singular person. He is connected to monarchists in parliament and nobility. They don’t like Church Walk, they support his effort to destroy it, but they also want to use him for their own purposes at the same time. Is he not the perfect man to throw beneath the churning wheels first? Too prideful to accept his own disposability.”

Marco was ready for a fight. He didn’t stick around at the estate for long enough to get a full picture of my abilities, but he could sense danger in the air from being around me. There were a lot of rumours going around about a woman with dark hair, red eyes and a pretty face. They were about my Mother, and that’s why Marco was so confused before, but a little uncertainty only helped my cause.

The problem was – there was no benefit to fighting with Marco. I might have made a fool of him once before at the museum, but there are no guarantees in this life. I only wanted to make sure that Cedric couldn’t advance his plans for the time being. I was stalling for time.

“If you were the one who killed Cedric’s henchman, why are you taking money from him?”

“I’m not. Someone else hired me to look after the meeting.”

“Robert Van Gervan.”

Marco hadn’t caught me namedropping his employer earlier. He had a resigned look as if to say ‘of course you already know that.’

“I wasn’t on board with Robert’s plan to steal the money, but knowing that Cedric may have had some part in almost killing me changes things. I wouldn’t want to benefit him in any way.”

“He was going to steal it?”

“Aye. He was. Robert is as stubborn as a mule. He won’t give up his perch on top of Church Walk without a fight, or a much better offer than this. He makes a lot of money from running the criminal underworld around this part of the city.”

Then that was my out. I couldn’t trust Marco or Robert to tell the truth, but he had opened a window of opportunity for me to get away with snatching the bag, whilst also advancing my other goals. Marco was now in the know about what was going on and that would change the way he behaved in my favour.

I held out the bag.

“Go on. Take it.”

He hesitated, expecting some type of cheap trick while he was approaching me. No horrible cheap shot awaited him. Marco took it from me and looked down at the money with a confused frown.

“You stole this, but now you’re giving it back?”

“I don’t care one bit about the money. My only reason for taking it was to frustrate Cedric Roderro, if you’re already planning on doing nothing in exchange for it then there’s no reason for me to steal it. You can give it back at the meeting and varnish your credentials.”

“You’re insane. You can’t trust a word I say.”

“That’s my decision to make. I have calculated the risk of giving you the money back, and it’s better if you act in accordance with what I’ve revealed here. Someone is trying to kill the criminal element in Church Walk, and that includes you. They’re connected to Cedric Roderro.”

“I’m knee-deep in bullshit again,” Marco complained.

“An eloquent way to describe the situation. It can hardly be helped when such large quantities of money are changing hands. With money comes politics. They will be quick to use Cedric as a scapegoat should the need arise. He is being kept at arm’s length for a reason.”

“Whatever. I’m not working for you, Carter. This money was rightly owed to me by Robert.”

“Naturally.”

But what I’d said would linger in the back of his mind from now on. It was the same strategy that Durandia used to manipulate our behaviour after our visit to the Snow Museum. It was subtle and he might not even notice it, but it was there and affecting his behaviour. This was another way to kick the beehive and see what happened.

Marco was unsure about walking away after what happened, as I would be, but there wasn’t much left to say between us. I wasn’t taking him to task for trying to murder my uncle. It was water under the bridge. He wanted to take the stalemate and get away with the cash as planned.

“I don’t get you,” he concluded.

“And you never will. We never met, and this conversation never happened.”

Marco had to get back to the bar. Now that he was aware of what the killers were trying to pull, it was obvious to him that a large gathering of gang members would make them the perfect target. He tucked the bag beneath his arm and ran past me to use the fastest possible route.

I exhaled and tried to unwind the tension that had built up in my chest. There was no going back on that decision now. I could only cross my fingers and hope that my assessment of the positives and negatives was accurate. It was so rare that I got the opportunity to speak with other people while ‘on the job.’ My type of social engineering relied on avoiding verbal contact with others. Negotiation was never an option.

With the outcome settled for the time being I set about stripping away the outer layer of my disguise. I removed the mask and the shirt, stuffing them into a bag that I had placed nearby for my escape plan. It was going to be impossible to spot me in a crowd now, if they were even still searching for me with Marco recovering the money.

It was a coin flip. I already felt the sting of regret from making a hasty decision and giving the bag back. I could have kept the money and tried to get away from Marco, but seeding uncertainty in his mind about what was going on in Church Walk seemed like the better option when it came to unsettling Cedric.

I frowned and started the walk of shame back to the carriage, which was still parked in the same location as I’d left it. Adrian was watching through the window with a face twisted by anxiety.

“Are you alright? They looked really angry with you.”

I laughed it off, “They never got close to catching me. Did they come back with the bag?”

“Yeah. I saw them walking through the front door with it.”

I sat back on the bench seat and watched closely for any signs of movement from inside. The meeting lasted for a sum total of twenty minutes, at which point a group of disgruntled-looking negotiators hurried out of the pub and powdered their way down the street. It didn’t go well.

“They stole the money,” I said.

“What? So my Uncle is out of luck?”

“It’s out of character – but he offered that cash to try and stop any more bloodshed from happening on his behalf. Those attacks have already outraged the people in charge of the gang. He will not be able to smooth that over. An injury to their pride is not so easily healed with money.”

And if they decided that letting go of their home turf lost more than they would gain...

“Typical. I bet he lowballed them. Why did you give the money up?”

“This is better for us,” I lied, “I managed to share some information with one of the men who chased me, and it was all resolved peacefully.”

“If you say so.”

I knocked on the wooden panel behind my head to signal the driver.

“That’s all we can do for the time being. Let’s see how tomorrow’s meeting develops.”

Adrian sighed and we left the scene of the crime with mixed results.