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When I glance down at myself, even the pale green fabric looks too bright. I make a face and dig out the dull brown cloak I also stashed beneath the sofa.
It ripples down over the gown, hiding most of the vibrant color. With the hood up, I could pass for a messenger or some other servant if no one looks closely.
A little of the tension in my chest eases. Gods above, I’ve missed my old invisibility on the streets.
I practice a little of that stealth slinking out of Stavros’s rooms. A few students pass me in the hall, but none of them give me a second glance.
Nor does the soldier who marches by on patrol, although his mere presence makes apprehension prickle down my spine all over again.
If I did use my magic and the powers that be simply haven’t discovered the consequences yet… I’m hemmed in from all sides.
I dart down the stairs, not knowing where I’m going until an unfortunately familiar voice reaches my ears from the landing below.
“I took a whole week’s wages off him, just like that.” Even Anya’s laugh takes on a sneering tone. “The lower staff should know better than to wager with the rest of us.”
There’s a muffled clink. I peek down the central spiral and make out the side of her haughty face.
A couple of her friends are standing with her. She tosses a modest leather pouch that must hold her winnings in one hand before tying the strands to her belt.
As her friends giggle about how the kitchen boy she wagered against has been taught his lesson, my teeth grit. Resolve wells up inside me, so sure and potent I can’t ignore it.
Yes. That’s it—that’s what I need.
I ease down the stairs until I’m just out of view. Anya turns to step out into the hall, one of her friends pushing the door open for her, and I dart silently down the last flight.
As I brush past her so subtly my cloak barely rustles, a flick of a knife releases the pouch into my grasp.
As I slip on down to the ground floor, I squeeze the leather surface hard to stop the coins from jingling. The fading laughter behind me tells me that Anya hasn’t noticed the loss yet.
By the time she does, I bet I won’t even be on campus.
Ivy?Julita says in a doubtful voice, but I don’t let her shake my conviction. I stride past the guards patrolling the courtyard, restraining a shiver at a brief trembling of the ground, and hustle out through the gate.
I’ve draped myself in silks and coiled my hair and painted my face to become one of the nobles. If I’m going to make it through whatever the next day holds, I need to remember who I really am beneath all that frivolity.
I take the quickest path I can to the outer wards, dodging other pedestrians, darting down alleys. With each mile I cover, the buildings shrink and slant, until they’ve transformed from stone mansions to wooden hovels.
This neighborhood wasn’t next on my rotation as the Hand of Kosmel, but I’ve lost track in my absence anyway. The massive family of fringe-dwellers I abandoned will appreciate my contribution all the same.
Normally I’d wait until dusk, but I don’t need Julita’s men flying into a panic again. At the first residential street I reach where the fences sag and the houses are held up with a mixture of overgrown vegetation and sheer will, I veer into the row of scruffy back gardens.
Because it’s full daylight, I have to stop more often than usual to flatten myself against a refuse bin or a shed. But for the most part, the inhabitants are busy in their houses or off at work.
Halfway down the row, I pause to wait for an elderly woman to finish tending to her scruffy garden. She plucks up the last few weeds and moves her hand down her front in the gesture of divinities, maybe making a silent prayer to Prospira for good growth.
The motion reminds me of Alek making the same gesture—and Stavros over my bloody body yesterday, and other nobles a dozen times over the last couple of weeks.
How strange is it that they and the people here are so far apart from each other, but in at least one way, they’re the same?
While I linger on the outskirts in both places.
A brief sense of melancholy drifts over me, but it fades when I get on with my task. Another window and another gets its “blessing” of silver.
There aren’t all that many coins in the pouch I lifted from Anya. I’d have thought the college could afford to pay even kitchen boys more than this.
As I set down the last pile, the pouch gone light in my hand, a sweeping sense of release washes over me.
No matter what else happens, I gave back a little more. I helpedsomeone.
