Quick turnaround, indeed.

Monstrous crowd, from all corners of western Jiy. The Lells square had filled past capacity, the merchants working long after typical closing to serve the unexpected influx of wealthier residents from northern districts needing meals while they waited for Patch’s promised information session.

Idiot, for even suggesting it.

Lucky, that he could deliver.

Patch grinned at Lapis while he chugged his wake juice, more comfortable being the center of attention on the makeshift stage than she anticipated. He thought the people needed a sign the ex-guards were trustworthy, and his presence counted as approval of what they planned. Of course, if his eyes bugged out from the amount of wakey wakey he had drunk, they might reconsider.

Maybe they already had. She could not explain, the shock accompanied by jealousy, when the out-district residents noticed the famed chaser speaking with street rats, both sides comfortable in their relationship. They were even more shocked when they realized the Grey Streets treated the urchins as members of their community, rather than horrid pests to be bullied, abused, jailed. A few had even pulled her aside, deep frowns pulling their jowls low, and questioned her on her reading circle that they just learned about.

Yes, she taught rats to read. Yes, it helped them land better jobs and earn more money. And no, they were not helpless and hopeless criminals. Smacking these good, upright citizens for their shitty beliefs would not help their confusion over her aiding the less fortunate, but it would make her feel better.

“I still think we should remind them about Fools and Ghouls Day,” Maydie grumbled, her arms planted over her chest as she eyed the crowd with dispassion. She and Movique invited themselves onto the platform, and since this event would not have taken place without their approval, Lapis did not think they should ask them to leave. Patch simply guzzled wake juice to keep from answering their impertinent questions, which they then turned on her.

Would serve him right, if he had to suffer through his introductory speech because he had to pee.

“This is more serious than festive. We don’t want visitors to think the two are wed,” Movique reminded her. The other Lells owner blew her breath through her teeth, unconvinced, and became grumpier.

Gabby hopped up the stairs and handed her a small, folded note. Her eyes, her cheeks, her hair, drooped, and Lapis had no idea what to say to console her. She wanted lively and boisterous Knight Gabrielda back, though she realized the rat mourned her ideals and the future she no longer thought she could achieve. She set a hand on her shoulder and the girl looked up, miserable.

“Have you seen the chaser from this afternoon?”

She shook her head. “Scand and Lykas are looking for him,” she intimated. “But there are a lot of people here.” She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Did Rin tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“He told the pickpockets they couldn’t pick at this meeting. A dozen came from the Stone Streets, and they’re pissed he’s staking his territory, and even more pissed we’re keeping them to his word.”

Patch chuckled. “They should thank him. Without Armarandos’s prohibition against targeting street kids, there’s no reason for the people to be nice if they catch them picking. Get enough on-edge merchants, and they’ll beat the shit out of anyone who tries to lift because rats are an easy target.”

Gabby’s eyes widened. “I’m going to tell them that,” she said before hustling away.

No Knight Gabrielda at their service? Depressed, Lapis opened the note. “They’re here,” she said.

Patch nodded and stepped in front of the two excited Lells owners. He raised a hand; whistles followed, catching the attention of the crowd. They eventually quieted, only the odd whisper wafting from the press of bodies.

He kept his hand aloft, then took out a stick with a grated round top from his pocket. He held that up, flipped a switch, then tapped it. A thump raced through the air, and people hunched, startled.

He put the object nearer his mouth. “Ain’t Dentherion tech grand?” he asked, his voice throbbing low. Some hooted, and whispers erupted at the realization those in the furthest reaches of the square could hear him. The palace used such tech—the Grey and Stone Streets never had the luxury. That the chaser did not seem concerned about royal punishment confused them, but whom might Gall send to arrest him? He already decimated the city’s law enforcement.

Lapis glanced at the speakers set on top of various buildings, glad Shara suggested they place the tech for this meeting. Having the crowd understand what transpired, rather than letting them pass word among themselves and get things wrong, held more appeal, which explained why she and Patch brought Maydie and Movique in on the event. The Minq had not appreciated their busy-body noses pushed over their shoulders and asking questions as they erected the tech, though they told them to inquire with the boss about keeping them there. Lapis just smiled and refused to take a side.

“Just for those who don’t know, I’m Patch,” he stated.

Quite a few gasps resounded from the gathered, and she fought not to express outward disgust. Who else had blond hair, a blue eye, and outwardly sported a black patch?

“I told you I’d have more information about the guard tonight,” he continued. Assenting voices rose and ebbed. “I do. But I’m not the one who’s going to tell you about it.” He glanced over to the side, and then back at the crowd. “It’s a strange thing, what the palace did, getting rid of the city guard. But Armarandos anticipated it. Surprised? Yeah, well, we chasers know how the palace treats the city guards, the magisters, and anyone else associated with law enforcement within Jiy’s borders. We know how the palace treats Armarandos, and it’s not with respect. They took his knighthood because he didn’t play their games, because he wanted to clean up the guard and have them work for Jiy residents, not against us. Don’t we all know, how that fat fuck on the throne shits on us in the city.”

“Patch,” Lapis sighed.

“Why else let a skyshroud terrorize the capital and not do a damn thing about it.”

That got a lot of cheers.

“Just because it’s gone, doesn’t mean he’s changed his mind about how he treats us western district residents.”

Jarosa stalked up the stairs, leading the small contingent of luminaries. Lapis looked forward to the crowd’s realization, of just how luminous the people joining the chaser on stage were. Faelan, Shara, Carnival and Lord Adrastos joined her, while Midir, Armarandos and Fyor spanned behind Patch with Jarosa. The last member she did not recognize, and curiosity ate at her. Who was he, dressed in scholar’s robes and fine silken fabrics?

Maydie and Movique studied the new arrivals, then snagged her arm. “Who are they all?” they whispered.

Her grin widened. “Wait and find out!”

Varr, as terrifying as she remembered when he protected Midir in public, planted himself in front of her, a bulky body as much of a protective presence as he was in the way. Faelan elbowed her as she craned around him to watch her partner scream at the crowd. She poked him back, unamused, while the two Lells owners watched them with wide eyes.

Unobtrusive rebels, from Jilvayna, Ramira and Shaloar, ringed the stage, ready to act in defense of the rebel leaders under their protection. That they did not join Varr hinted they did not expect trouble.

“Lells, you know Fyor!” Patch shouted. The cheer resounded off the buildings. “Do you think he’d lie to you?” Louder negatives, though quite a few in the crowd appeared skeptical. “How many of you have met Armarandos?” the chaser asked. Several called out and raised their hands; the ex-knight bowed his head in acknowledgment while most others whispered in surprise. “I told you he worked to improve Jiy, and he’s here to tell you what he plans. But he’s not the only interested party. How many of you know Grand Magister Velrich?”

A murmur of voices, but not many. Lapis glanced at her brother, surprised, as the unknown man raised his hand. It made sense to bring the head of the magisters on the western side of the river in on this, and she wondered who proposed it. If his people were hurting as badly as Fyor indicated, a swift return to something near normal would improve their disposition—and keep him in power.

“The magisters work closely with guards and chasers to bring you justice, and the palace, through this act, has undermined their ability to do that. So we have ex-guards and we have the magisters who want to provide the services you expect. We also have the Meint! Veritiate Deathknell Jarosa’s none too keen on Gall’s harming the commoner. She’s promised Meint support of Armarandos’s endeavor.”

The ear-splitting cheer, and the woman’s smile as she raised her hand, buoyed Lapis. As one of the few purveyors of medical help for the citizens of Jilvayna, the Meint had an outsized voice among religious practitioners, and to have the veritiate deathknell support these happenings would mean something, especially to the skeptical. Her approval would lead the way.

“Now, you might be wondering who the other front and center man on this stage is. Believe it or not, I’ve chased his stakes. He’s someone who works with Jarosa in helping the residents of Jiy, though he has to do it behind the scenes. Why? He’s the heir to the Jilvayna throne. Lord Krios.”

The stunned silence cracked under Jarosa’s giggles. Patch offered her the stick, and she accepted, beaming. The Ramiran rebel, known for her sternness, her persistence, and her grit, appeared to enjoy this impromptu showcase. Lapis caught Carnival grinning in soft fondness at the woman, and again she wondered at their relationship.

“If King Gall doesn’t support justice, we will!”

Perhaps giving Jarosa the floor was not the best idea.

“Don’t worry,” Faelan whispered. “Armarandos made her promise to be nice.”

Lapis remembered the times their father elicited the same, and the exasperating results.

A wave, in the direction she stared; Brone. He made the ‘come here’ rat sign, and she supposed the chaser had returned. Her brother followed her line of sight and raised an eyebrow.

“I gave a hard-up chaser a stake, to follow a man causing problems earlier,” she whispered. “I think he was a palace plant because he was talking about how great Seeza is and the guards all failed them in their duty. I told the rats to keep an eye out for him.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Good, ‘cause I promised him five silver and I don’t have that much on me.”

Carnival snickered as her brother sighed.

“What’s up?” she asked the drummer as she hopped down the stairs.

“The chaser’s here,” he said. “He’s down the Half-ring Alley. The reading circle’s with him.”

Of course they were. Danger attracted them like flies.

The Half-ring Alley was a curving back way with solid, mud-splatted walls that still had cracked wooden poles sticking up from the earth, and shattered tiles that peeked up through the soil. Lapis assumed they once created a covered garden pathway, but now the niches between the posts served to semi-hide illicit affairs and provide a route for those running errands for the Lells merchants.

The chaser leaned against one of the stouter poles, his fingers tapping on his upper arm, the rats loosely surrounding him and peppering Dagby with questions about chasing. He stood, hands in pockets, loose and indifferent, though his shifting weight hinted at unease. Lapis had not expected him, though it did not surprise her that he attended this meeting. It would affect him, as an Underville native and as a newly minted rebel.

“So how do you go to the bathroom when you’re chasing someone?” Ness asked. “I mean, won’t you lose them?”

No wonder Dagby looked uneasy. Her snicker caught their attention, and the ex-chaser grinned in relief.

“I came for the meetin’,” he said, answering her question before she asked. “Granna Cup wanted me to keep my sister company, but she met up with some of the other Candycakes sellers.”

“Well, Candycakes is going to feel the effects of this,” Lapis agreed. “I see why they’re interested.”

“Yeah. The owners are scramblin’ to secure guards. Several chasers have taken them up on it, because they need work.”

“It’s not like the guard patrolled there that often.”

“No, but if somethin’ bad happened, they had someone to complain to. Not all the merchants are lookin’ forward to trompin’ to Blossom and fillin’ out stake forms with the underground, especially since they’ve been so careful about keepin’ the gutter out of their market.”

Lapis glanced at the chaser, who eyed her expectantly. “Did you finish the stake?”

“Yeah. Lucky stars, he came back here.”

Wonderful.

“Nolin, this is my brother, Faelan. And I take it you know Dagby.”

He nodded. “Met him at Candycakes. I’m a little shocked he’s workin’ with you, since he retired.”

“Well, he might regret that once the rats get done with him.”

The reading circle just smiled widely, proud of their curiosity. She had instilled in them that questions were not bad, that learning things made one better prepared to handle the future. Even if embarrassing, wondering how chasers managed bodily functions during extended chases, especially if the target was on the move, was a legit question to ponder.

Faelan paid him and he clutched the silver, as if he could not believe they kept their word. How many stakes did the guards cheat him on, that he anticipated it?

“So, I didn’t find out who he is. He went across the river, like you thought, Lanth, but just to the Kells. Sat at a riverside restaurant and ordered enough food to feed all the rats at the Lells. The Gods’ Hands and two of his buddies joined him.”

Cold shot from her chest to freeze her brain. The Gods’ Hands? He was dead! She looked at her brother, fighting to keep her accusations inside until Nolin wandered on his way. She thought the rebels had shoved that insufferable ass into the Pit after his attack on the Eaves. She wanted to cry. She wanted to punch something. So much for Faelan’s promises to keep her safe.

She had enough people wanting revenge on her, and she doubted The Gods’ Hands would pass up an opportunity to take her out.

“He looked rough, and I don’t think he could use his left arm. He had a weird sling, like something cobbled together by Stone Street doctors. Anyway, the guy I trailed handed a bag over, and I’m pretty certain it contained silver, but not our money. The coins were shaped like squares.”

“Might be underground tokens,” Dagby said.

“Maybe. The bag hung heavier than I’d expect from painted wood. Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough, and they argued over the pay. In the end, Gods’ Hands walked away, and the guy screamed at him to give back the money, but he didn’t chase after them. He stalked on back over here instead. I think they were supposed to guard him tonight and refused.”

Dagby sourly hmphed. “Sounds like him,” he grumbled. “Surprised he isn’t in the Pit yet.”

“He should be,” Lapis growled. Faelan cast her a warning look, and she forced her nastiness down into the hole where her other destructive emotions sludged about, waiting for the most inopportune time to erupt.

“Where’s he at?” her brother asked.

Nolin nodded. “He’s by the Sandstone Street sign. He wasn’t expectin’ this crowd, and he’s been askin’ people why they’re here. I don’t think he’s fakin’ his bewilderment. He tried to say somethin’ about palace support, but everyone told him to go jump in the Pit. No one’s happy with Gall right now, and he’s stupid, to talk about it. I think that’s why he’s on the edge—he didn’t want to tangle with someone who has friends that would gang up on him, with enough bodies around him he couldn’t escape.”

Scand and Lykas rushed into the alley, and by their shining expressions, they completed some mischief they expected her to condemn them for but congratulate them on it, anyway. Scand mimicked Rin’s typical mischievous look and proudly presented her with a packet of papers bound by a thin, silky ribbon. She accepted and slipped the binding off as she raised an eyebrow at them.

“Did you really expect us to not pick him?” Lykas asked.

“Yes. I told you and Scand to listen and report.” Her stern disapproval washed off them as she unfurled the pages. Yet another thing to stress in her training sessions—follow orders.

The top sheet held directions to some place along the Avranda River, and by the description, the meeting would take place in the Bells rather than in the Reeds. While the Bells housed richer artisans, independent teachers and scholars, no one but aristocrats could access the river there. Opulent mansions overlooked sandy shorelines, and each owner had sectioned off a bit of the land as their personal beach, refusing to allow anyone but their friends and family to enjoy the space. A wall built right after the Dentherion invasion towered over the ends, providing an effective privacy shield to the wealthy.

If the man planned to meet someone on the River in the Bells, he had the approval of an interested noble.

The second page intrigued her more. She carefully perused it as Faelan leaned in, then nudged her shoulder with his own. She raised an eyebrow and kept quiet; while Dagby now worked for the rebels, Nolin had no such connection.

A roar from the crowd startled them. Lapis had not paid attention to the buzz of Jarosa’s voice, but now Armarandos’s measured voice rose over the noise. The chaser glanced out at the crowd. “A lot of people are concerned about what’s goin’ on.”

“Once the community centers prove their worth, people will relax,” Lapis said. “They’ll be manned by familiar people doing familiar things like stake payouts and guard duty.”

“Community centers?”

“Armarandos, his dad and Lord Krios purchased buildings they’re turning into centers. They’ll provide the same services the guardhouses once did, even if the renovations aren’t complete yet. They’ll stick up a tent, accept stakes and patrol applications. Things will be different, but not as much as people expect.”

“Lord Krios?” he asked, eyes wide.

Lapis jerked her thumb towards the platform. “He’s the man in a crimson duster on the stage.”

Nolin popped from the pole, hesitated, then raced to look. Faelan chuckled as Ness planted his hands on his hips and shook his head over the interest. Of course, Ness had already met Midir, and his interactions with the rats remained kind and empathetic, without a trace of haughty disdain one might expect from a royal.

Still, the nine-year-old’s reaction amused her.

Dagby wandered over and the three of them read the pages while the rats impatiently waited, arms crossed. Lapis glanced over the defiant poses and raised her eyebrows.

“What are people saying?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Lykas said. “They’re scared. A few are reminding others about what happened at Ruddy’s and are afraid the palace’ll take out more random hits like that.”

“We’ll see what we can do to soothe them,” Faelan said. “Indications are that the throne doesn’t have the tech to spare for random threats. And they would need to use tech because their supply of poison for bladed weapons is gone. People will notice and gossip if they attack without the equipment they’ve spent years terrifying the populace with.”

“So what do those say?” Scand asked.

“You didn’t peek?” Impressive, they kept their curiosity in check.

Scand flung his arms out, but before he made a plea that yes, the rats deserved her consideration in telling them what the sheets said, Faelan shook his head.

“This is rebel business,” he told them. He dug into his pouch, withdrew a handful of bits, and passed the reading rats ten bits as compensation for keeping Nolin company, and Scand and Lykas ten shells for their brave, if stupid, theft. Then he shooed them on, which earned him protesting groans, but they reluctantly left, dragging feet and making a production of reluctance.

Dagby covered his lips to half-conceal his laughter. “Your bunch is quite rowdy,” he said.

“I suppose.” She stared at her brother until he glanced at her. “And?” she said, with forceful fierceness.

He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, displeased. “It was an exchange with the Minq,” he told her. “They wanted some info The Gods’ Hands had, and I needed something from them. Layne agreed not to release him, and I don’t know what changed, that they did so.”

“He’s vengeful, Faelan. He’ll be hunting for Mairin because she broke his arm, and me, because I’m the one who called his cheap tech bluff when he tried to hold up the Eaves.”

“I can take care of him.”

The deadness in Dagby’s voice alarmed Lapis, though Faelan patted his arm and shook his head.

“Not until I speak with the Minq about why he’s loose. I don’t want to interfere in an operation where they’re using him to catch a bigger fish. If not, we’ll talk.” Her brother relieved her of the pages. “I’m going to get someone on this.”

“The mansion owners have walled off the shoreline on the Bells part of the Avranda,” Lapis said. “The place he’s going, he’s probably getting access with owner approval.”

“Good to know.”

“What about these other orders?”

“I don’t know, but I’m betting someone forged Seeza’s signature. Why would she know about Jerin? What knowledge is he supposed to have, that it’s official guard business? I don’t think he’ll live long, once those hunting him realize he’s twelve and their efforts wasted.”

“I wonder if Wrethe might not mind taking him in,” Lapis said. “He and Fawn get along, and if he’s as much into coding as I think, we could make it look like an apprenticeship. It’s not like he entertains many visitors, and because his home is a downed skyshroud, he has protections evil others won’t expect.”

“Not a bad idea. They’ll be heading back once Fools and Ghouls is over; Fawn wants to attend, and the rats have drilled it into her head that she can’t miss this one.” He rolled the papers and smacked them against his hand. “Wrethe’s been more concerned about him now that we can read the code Danaea left. What she did wasn’t pretty, or smart, and I can’t see how she expected the blowback to ignore him. She owed money to the Shank’s owner, and he was breathing down her neck about it, but she also needed to pay back two others she referred to as Big and Small.”

“Descriptive,” Lapis grumbled.

“I don’t think she used all her earnings to put Jerin through boarding school, either, but what she spent it on is a mystery. In one document she mentioned paying back a hundred metgal, and still owing more.”

Her mouth fell open and Dagby’s eyebrows shot into his bangs. “That’s . . . insane,” she choked. “Even for a hunter.”

“You might be more accurate in that assessment than you think. She constantly pitted more than one entity against each other trying to up the payout on high-value stakes, and it was only a matter of time before that bit her. Jetta just got to her first.”

“Where is Jetta, anyway? Mingling with the crowd?”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “No. She’s in Coriy, picking up some documents about the skyshroud. It’s too big, too slow, so Requet can’t hide its trajectory. It’s been easy to follow.”

“Fun.”

“She doesn’t think so. She’s been itching for something more adventurous, and running errands is not.”

“She can trade places with me.”

Her brother laughed. “I suppose.”

“Dagarby Darshwin Cup!”

Lapis slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing as Dagby’s face darkened. “Gods and chains, Granna!” he snarled. “I am not a kid anymore!”

The older woman stood in the alley, hands on hips, her wrinkles jutting down her face in perturbed anger. She stormed to them, her white bun jerking about, purposefully snagged Lapis’s arm, and marched her right back out. She glanced at the men, whose confusion irritated her. Would they not help?

Granna Cup did not say a word, though her stern glare caused those in their way to step back and let them pass. She might have more concern, but while the woman may still hold a heated dislike of her from their Underville encounter, she did not think she meant her harm.

She hoped.

Interested rats trailed them, Brone in the lead. Granna Cup noted them but did not halt her forward thrust until they reached her granddaughter and several Candycakes sellers. Lapis had bought items from her on the rare occasion and found her a cherry sort, though she never would have placed her in the same womb as Dagby, had he not told her.

The granddaughter looked over as the crowd backed up, then pursed her lips, closed her eyes, and rolled her head in exasperation. “Granna,” she protested.

The older woman held up an imperious finger, then squinted at Lapis. “I’ve a question,” she said.

“Please ask,” she responded with congenial lightness, unwilling to upset her. The rats crowded at her back and Brone planted himself at her side, and while startled at the support, the Underville matron did not snap at them to scatter.

“Dabgy’s been . . . occupied, recently.”

“OK.”

“He says he’s seeing someone you know.”

Lapis smiled. “Yes. Cassa.”

The granddaughter’s mouth dropped open. “Wait. He’s not lying?”

She shook her head. “Nope. He and Cassa get along very well.”

“But he said she’s a scientist,” Granna Cup said with stunned concern.

“That’s true. She’s a biological anthropologist who works for the Mawik Institute out of Mozen, Meergevenis.”

That caught the rest of the Candycakes sellers’ attention.

“But . . . we’re talking about Dagby,” the granddaughter said, as if that fact should preclude romantic involvement. The rats giggled.

“I think Dagby’s changed a bit since getting off the brainbreak.” Lapis had no intimate stories concerning him before that, but she could guess, having witnessed countless others fall to the drug.

“He says she has a son?” Granna Cup asked, her tone measured.

“Yes. Tovi. He’s shy, but smart and talented and brave. He’s around Brone’s age.” She set her hand on the rat’s shoulder to emphasize the words. “How much has Dagby told you about him?”

“Just that his parents died, and Cassa adopted him,” Granna Cup intimated. “But there’s something else he’s refusing to say.”

“There’s a reason for that. Look, Cassa and Tovi will be here for Fools and Ghouls Day. Stop by. Meet them.”

Granna Cup looked up and had the decency to blush. The granddaughter wagged her head as Dagby folded his arms and produced a glower that would have made the older woman proud, had she viewed it. The Candycakes sellers cleared their throats and focused on the more important information coming from Armarandos rather than the annoyed man. Then he planted the look on her.

“Don’t even think it,” he growled.

“Of course not—Dagarby Darshwin Cup.”

She scurried away with a mischief of howling rats trailing her.

Lapis returned to over-excited Maydie and Movique, who beamed and hopped about in small little bounces. “He’ll be here!” they told her in gleeful whispers.

She blinked.

“Lord Krios!” Movique crowed. “He said he’ll be at the Fools and Ghouls celebration to meet with residents about current events. Isn’t that exciting?”

Lapis glanced at Shara, wondering how she took the news. The Minq would definitely have to add more protection to the Lells while he was there in his heir role. The underboss half-laughed and waved her fingers in the air.

“Would you believe my grandfather and he planned it that way?”

“Yes,” Lapis replied sourly.

Varr rumbled.

“Like you’re happy about it,” she told his broad back. He glanced over his shoulder at her, and she smiled in wide acknowledgment of his annoyance. Good thing he liked her, that she could tease him without repercussions.

“We have to get those commemorative tokens,” Movique fretted. “Everyone’s going to want to remember this one!”

Maydie set a hand on her arm. “You’re still going to paint the rats’ faces?” she inquired.

“Of course.”

“Paint their faces?” Carnival asked, eye sparks lighting his otherwise mopey features. She knew bored, and he intently suffered it. Perhaps he should have accompanied her and Faelan to speak with Nolin. She would love to watch him bat wills with Granna Cup.

“Yeah. The Lells merchants hand out small sweets and knickknacks to kids dressed up. When I arrived in Jiy, the rats were left out because they couldn’t afford costumes. So I started painting faces. It gives them something to show off and they can get in on the treats action. If they’re too shy to visit merchants, the older rats take treats around to Grey and Stone Street cubbies.” She glanced at the front of the stage. “The Ramiran rebels’ half-skull is the most popular.”

He grinned so wide, his wrinkles cracked his face. “I see,” he said, overly satisfied yet thoughtful. She squinted at him and he leaned closer, dropping his voice. “Jarosa’s quite the hand at painting skulls,” he reminded her.

She failed to suppress the sudden elation whisking from her chest, overriding the lingering chill. “She is.”

“The kids, I’ve been told, adore her.”

“They do.”

“I can entertain those waiting.”

Maydie and Movique obtrusively leaned closer, attempting to overhear their plots. The Shaloar rebel snickered and tipped his hat at them.

“I believe your festival will be quite the draw,” he said with bland aplomb.

Lapis stared at Varr’s back, her previous concern melting away under the anticipation of urchins beaming sun-bright as the veritiate deathknell painted a half-skull on their faces. Even if Jarosa initially demurred, she would hate to see disappointed kids on so exuberant a day. She would cave.

The Fools and Ghouls Day that year would be a not-to-miss experience.