Half a district away, in the Noble District’s Parvenue Quarter, Tiger tucked the oilskin bag containing the thief’s gaudy red suit into a hollow in an alley wall and hid it behind a board. He ignored the thief’s urging to fold the suit.


    Unexpectedly, crossing the Gallus estate had made Tiger wish he’d settled for robbing it, but between the guards, the hunter, the scrytive, the Lord Commander, the Water Sage, and the fire mage, even he had to admit it was too risky. He’d have to eat the lost time.


    Out of sight of the footmen, pages, and cabbies who were rushing home in the drizzle, Tiger donned tonight’s costume: one black shirt, one pair of dark trousers, one pair of rubbery climbing gloves, one pair of thin soft-soled shoes, one slate gray sailor’s cloak, one belt with five knives slid into it, one hip bag full of thief’s tools, and one tattered blue scarf.


    He was ready.


    First, the roof. Running his hands over the wet alley wall, Tiger assessed the slickness of the bricks, the building material of choice for the less affluent nobles who couldn’t afford North Souran stone. That was lucky. He could scale chipped bricks and worn mortar much faster than sheer stone. The thief’s experience at Han Luo spoke to that.


    Tiger jumped, caught a brick in each hand, and pulled himself up. After securing himself with the soles of his shoes, he reached and grabbed another brick, but it slid out of his hand, forcing him to scramble to catch another. What would help are claws like a real-


    .


    Tiger’s grip slipped, and he lost a  of altitude before he caught the wall and arrested his fall. He hung there and waited for the haunting image to fade as the thief whimpered at the back of his mind.


    Tiger continued his climb, reaching the roof with no other issues. Rubbing feeling back into his fingers, he took in the city of Bradford, the seat of the Souran government. From here, he could see the royal palace’s brilliant white lanterns, which easily cut through the drizzle and fog. Hopefully, one day he’d rob the place and make a proper name for himself, but, tonight, all his prey lived down in the wet shadows and smeared lights of the Noble District.


    Crouching, he considered the options that the thief’s ingratiations at the party had provided, happy that, since he’d left after the first course, none of the available prey would be home for hours. A noble dinner was a serious affair and nothing, save disaster, could stop it.


    Option One lived alone in a flat to the south on the border of the Noble District and Boscage. By the reek of magic on her hands and her gaudy orange dress, she was a working mage. Her home would be easy to break into but unlikely to yield anything valuable.


    Option Two lived to the east in a townhouse with her father and daughter and had worn the season’s colors teal and white. That meant she was richer than Option One, but the presence of two other people increased the likelihood of guards.


    Option Three lived in a large apartment in the west. He’d eschewed fashion but had worn expensive robes of rich brown and shimmering gold. The thief hadn’t spoken to him much, but he’d seemed formidable, even a challenge.


    Left to his own devices, Tiger would have chosen either Option Two or Option Three because of the challenge involved, but the gang of footpads that he worked for had something else planned tonight, and challenge meant time-consuming. He just needed to steal something magical; they didn’t care what. Hopefully, there would be time after that job to take care of that scrytive the thief had run into at dinner.


    The thief’s admonition slapped the thought aside.


    Tiger growled.


    The thief stood his ground.


    Tiger felt the mask start to peel from his face. .


    The thief settled down.


    Tiger snorted. Attacking the scrytive was too risky anyway, but unfortunately, as long as he was on Tiger’s trail, Tiger had to avoid using the knives he’d taken from Zeya, and that meant that Options Two and Three were off the table.


    His eyes slid north. There was a fourth option.


    The thief roused again.


    . Tiger let go of that idea. It was the sure bet, his trump card, but he didn’t need it, not tonight.


    Option Two then.


    Turning south, Tiger dashed across the rooftop and leapt, clearing the gap between the houses, and landed on the next roof. He continued, relying on his night vision to avoid broken roof tiles and waking residents. Soon, he reached the Parvenue Quarter’s southern edge where grand townhouses gave way to quaint six-story apartment buildings with brick walls, stone facades, and friezes depicting glorious battles. After running a couple more blocks, he slowed to a stop across the street from Number 248 Vents Street, a yellow brick building and Option Two’s home.


    Crouching on the roof across the street, Tiger took in the details of the prey’s building. It was newer than its fellows, its frieze using a more abstract modern style, the beasts and warriors more shapes than bodies. New meant that the brick and mortar was in better condition, making the walls harder to climb. Its windows were more usual, at least for Souran buildings. Apparently, Souran crafters could mass-produce cheap, clear glass, and the building of Number 248 had taken advantage and installed big tall windows. This made it harder to break in as smashing such large windows would make a lot of noise, and since there were multiple flats, he’d have to do so again and again.


    In the back of Tiger’s mind, the thief’s eyes twinkled.


    Tiger chuffed.


    The thief rolled his eyes.


    Though that would be easier than letting the thief take control with all his strange hang ups. For example, the thief felt guilty about leaving the hunter behind at dinner, even after she’d betrayed them and trapped them in this cursed country, all because she was family, and the thief claimed he couldn’t abandon family. That said, there was no other way to get to the prey. Tiger relaxed his hold and stepped back.


    Huan took another look at the apartment building. Good, it didn’t have a door guard on duty, which meant no one could stop him from picking the lock and just strolling on in. He climbed uncatlike down to the street, let a carriage splash past him, then ambled up to the building’s front door. He tried the knob, but it wouldn’t turn. He knelt to inspect the lock. He grinned.


    .


    He pulled out his lock-picks, inserted a hook into the lock, then paused. The rain patters behind him sounded wrong, muffled. Even when the beast stepped back, its sense stayed with Huan all the time. That was probably a benefit of absorbing the mask. He made a show of looking for his keys and surreptitiously searched the shadows behind him. He saw nothing, but something was there.


    The beast growled.


    Huan turned back to the door and with a quick twist of the hook, unlocked it. In moments, he was out of the rain and in a sickly green hallway with white wooden doors. Now, all he had to do was find the mark. He sniffed. New paint, dibecco smoke, carpet dust, and… baking fruit? He followed that last to a door halfway down the hallway and knocked.


    A ruddy-faced man, taller than Huan but better fed and more muscular, answered the door in a pink and blue floral apron. “What do you want?”


    Soft consonants, flat accent, blatant disregard for Bradford courtesy. Probably Western Souran.


    Huan bowed. “Apologies.” He let his consonants soften, made his voice more nasal, more foreign. “Could you please tell me which flat is Miss Nicole Fletcher’s?”


    The baker frowned.


    He’d need a reason to answer that question. Huan gave him a nervous smile. “My master Lord Kalan has a job for her that cannot wait.” Huan had no idea what the mark did for a living, but he bet she hired herself out when possible.


    The baker’s frown deepened. “He couldn’t wait till morning?”


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    “You know how nobs are. Always in a hurry.”


    “And never to go anywhere important.” The baker crossed his arms. “How urgent?”


    Excellent, he knew the mark. Huan shifted uneasily. “It’s of a sensitive nature. He needs to move his paramour out fast before her ladyship returns.”


    The baker tilted his head. “Paramour?”


    Huan shrugged. “That’s what milord called him.”


    “Well, well.” The baker rubbed his chin. “That’s something to know. Maybe she’ll take the chance to get ahead, and not let her brother do all the work.” He pointed up. “Third floor, room three-oh-two. You’ll have to wait. She’s at some dinner party tonight.”


    “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Huan bowed repeatedly.


    “Just get on with it. I’m busy.” The baker shut the door and left Huan alone in the hallway.


    Upstairs then.


    An investigation of the far end of the hallway yielded a flight of stairs that led to the upper and lower floors. Huan went up and had just reached the second landing when the beast grabbed control.


    Ignoring the thief’s protests, Tiger sniffed the air again. Outside, he hadn’t heard whatever the thief had, but this, the scent of musty paper and smoke, this he noticed, and it suggested an alarming possibility. He sniffed once more and froze. The scent was gone, replaced with the acrid smell of new paint. Tiger looked down into the stairwell, but there was nothing and no one. Still concerned, he stepped back.


    Back in control, Huan cursed. Between its paranoia and the haunting visions of Marcus, he was glad the beast hadn’t gone after a mark with any real security or else they’d be in a dungeon by now. His left hand went to his side and found nothing. Right, he’d left his sword behind. Mei wouldn’t have let him bring it to dinner. Annoyed, he rushed up the stairs, barged onto the third floor, and marched up to number three-oh-two, which he broke into with barely any effort.


    Inside was a small kitchen with a tiny counter and matching stove, a sitting area with a well worn blue couch and two rickety wooden chairs, and three doors that presumably led to sleeping quarters. Or closets. That was all he got before the beast took control.


    Tiger sniffed. The smell of dirt and sand and stone reminded him of the mountains, where-


    Tiger covered his mouth, holding in the thief’s sobs.


    He shoved the thief further into the back of his mind and sniffed again. This time he found what he was looking for. Magic, on the other side of one of the doors. He tried to open it. Locked.


    .


    The thief only sobbed.


    Rolling his eyes, Tiger broke the doorknob, and wrenched the door open. Behind it was a closet-sized room that was stuffed with a small bed and bookshelves. Most of the books were worthless, but the one sitting on a small shelf right above the bed was a rare second edition, and it was on the list. Lucky. Tiger grabbed it and turned to leave.


    Someone, shorter and thinner than the prey, stood in the middle of the room. “You do not belong here, ,” she said in High Imperial Tuquese.


    ***


    </a>When Huan had snuck out of Tarpan, he’d made three mistakes. First, he’d worn a bright red suit that any bored person staring out of their carriage window could have seen, even through mist and foliage. Second, he’d left said suit in the care of an unattended wall where any curious person could find it. Third, he’d made so much noise running across the rooftops that anyone could have followed him from the street. Making all three mistakes in the presence of a face-shifting spy currently posing as the Kalan’s steward? That was just bad luck.


    As Huan sniffed the air one floor up, Dana slid under the stairway and out of sight, hoping that he couldn’t hear pulse pounding. As far as  knew the Tiger Mask was gone, but Huan’s current behavior and his rooftop athleticism belied that idea. Dana would investigate that later. Right now,  needed something to throw Huan off the scent.


    pulled a strip of red cloth out of  pocket, put it to  nose and breathed in Huan’s sweaty musky scent with only a little grimace.


    Then she held it in her mind. “”


    The spell hit like a summer day, making  sweaty and itchy. Soon Dana’s scent was no longer Rodion’s wood, smoke, and ink, but Huan’s dirt and musk. Now cloaked, Dana held  breath and waited. Above , Huan continued to sniff, but, while Dana’s spell had been rushed, it would take a hound to find  now. The sniffing stopped. Footsteps sounded. A door open and closed. He’d bought it. Dana stepped out into the open and climbed up the stairs, training and experience keeping  steps silent.


    There was still the question of why Huan had come here. It was concerning that he’d resumed thieving, but it was far more concerning that he had customers. Sure, Huan could be hoarding items like a rat with string, but Dana would have noticed a stuffed mattress during  regular snoops in the Li siblings’ rooms. It was more likely that he was working for a greedy merchant, a jealous noble, or… Quickpaw, Tuqu’s lead spy in Soura. This kind of work wasn’t like Quickpaw though; she deployed assets efficiently and sending one to steal from a mere commoner was wasteful. It was probably someone else, but Dana had to confirm.


    Opening the door to the third floor,  peeked into the hallway and caught Huan as he broke into one of the apartments. As he disappeared into the room,  pulled a olive, pink, and ash gray scarf out from under  cloak and wrapped it around  face, hiding Rodion’s features from view. Then, after releasing the scent spell, making scentless,  crept up the hallway.  didn’t want to fight the boy who’d fought a single-handedlyand survived. would lose or, worse, attract so much attention Dana’s handler Ramos would send  back to The Circle.


    Quieting  breath, Dana entered the flat and locked the door behind . Inside, colorful handmade rugs and paintings of smiling sunburned people standing in fields of waise surrounded . Whoever lived here had been born a farmer and likely didn’t have very many mages in their family. There was a painting sitting on the coffee table in front of the sofa. It depicted a middle-aged woman, a young lady, and a teen-aged boy holding up a letter. Dana’s eyes widened. The women wore silvery rings on neck chains. They were mages.


    A quick inspection of the flat’s walls yielded a framed basic earthhoist provisional license for a Nicole Fletcher, dated last year. Earthhoisting was necessary yet unglamorous work, so why was Huan here?


    Time to set up a brief confrontation. While the thief in question rummaged through a closet, Dana stepped past the sofa and took up position in the center of the flat. Which voice should  use to talk to Huan? Rodion was too uptight, Clara was too flirty, and both were too Vanurian and would stumble over the Tuquese language’s lack of personal pronouns.  needed authority and connections and with a good ear and better tongue,  wouldn’t need to use another spell.


    When Huan finally turned around, Dana used the diction, phrasing, and intonation of a Jade Lotus magistrate to say, “You do not belong here, .”  meant non-mage. “Explain your presence here.”


    Huan’s right hand flew to his left side, reaching for the sword he’d left behind. “Who are you?” His left hand disappeared behind his back. “Did Momin send you?”


    Behind the impromptu wrap covering Rodion’s face, Dana’s heart raced. He knew Quickpaw’s real name?


    bowed. “We keep an eye on someone with your gifts.” walked to the window and opened it, letting the night’s drizzle wet  fingers. “Explain your presence here. I shall not command you again, .”


    What was he hiding behind his back? The closet - no, bedroom,  saw the bed - behind him was full of bookshelves. One had a gap. That only deepened the mystery of Huan’s purpose here. What did he want with a book?


    Dropping his right hand to his belt of knives, Huan assumed a relaxed posture and chuckled. “Doesn’t the right hand talk to the left?” His Tuquese was provincial and made a mush of the language’s vowels. That was on purposewas sure. “I’m here on orders of course.” He showed  the book. “This is a dangerous text, and the Empire won’t allow these dirtpushers mess around with it.”


    “And you knew that the mage living here would be out?” It was too dark for Dana to read the title, but now  was certain Quickpaw wasn’t involved. The spymaster could care less about such small orders. “Impressive.”


    Huan grinned. “I knew her schedule.”


    “Good work.” So, Nicole Fletcher was at the Gallus dinner. That had to be how Huan had known. “Still, you should-”


    “Don’t call me that!” Rage broke through Huan’s calm facade.


    Wow, short fuse. “Very well, countryman, but you must understand that dabbling in the activities of these… dirtpushers is parlous.”  stepped away from the window and put the sofa between them. “I recommend caution.”


    Huan shrugged. “I can handle myself.” The facade was back, but Dana didn’t miss how he was inching towards the open window. “Sourans are all credulous fools. I’ll have what I need soon, and then I’ll be out of you and Momin’s way.” His right hand tightened around a black-handled knife. “We have a deal after all.”


    He had a deal with Quickpaw? What did it entail? Did Mei know? Dana stopped moving away from the window and eyed the knives on Huan’s belt. They couldn’t afford to let them fall into the hands of Quickpaw and her kind. Should  try to steal them back? With any luck, Huan hadn’t figured out their full function yet.


    “You will stand down,” Dana brought  up to  full height, “and wait for instructions.”


    Huan bared his teeth. “Make me.”


    The doorknob jiggled.


    Spy and thief froze. Nicole was back too soon. It had been barely a hour since they’d left Tarpan, and Souran noble dinner parties never ended before the small hours of the morning. What had gone wrong? Was Dwayne okay? A whoosh and a pop broke Dana’s line of thought.  looked for Huan, but he was gone, had used the knives to escape and left Dana alone in the mage’s flat. Saving curses for later,  flung  towards the door.


    “Cups, that was a disaster.” A gawky young woman, Nicole presumably, lumbered past Dana’s hiding place against the wall just to the left of the entrance. “I wonder what that Wesen boy was screaming about.” She blinked. “Did I leave that window open?”


    Before the mage pushed the door shut, Dana slipped out into the hallway.


    Phons bless  trainer in the Lunar Circle, and Phons bless being born Obscura Phase. Both had saved from making any noise on that hasty exit. As  uncovered Rodion’s features and restored his scent, Danareviewed Nicole’s comment. Had Dwayne snapped? Dwayne, who’d displayed so much cool that he’d impressed Soura’s Queen?  needed to get back to Sanford quick. Huan and his strange theft could wait.