Morning came gray and still. Allen woke with Seraphina's head on his shoulder, her breathing slow and even. The new house was cold in the way stone houses always were before the sun had a chance to warm them, but under the wool blankets it was warm enough. He didn't move. He lay there, listening to the soft sound of her breath, and let the last traces of sleep fade. His mind was already working. 'Maris and Fendrel. I need to reach them. If the Veton family is already sniffing around, I can't wait for them to show up on their own.' He kept his voice low, barely a whisper. "Violet." The panel opened beside the bed, soft blue. [Violet: Yes, Host?] "Can you contact my followers? Maris and Fendrel. Their class is tied to me now." [Violet: The connection exists, but it is untested. I will attempt to establish communication through the Tyrant's link.] "Do it." [Violet: Understood. Attempting now.] The panel flickered, then settled. Allen waited. Seraphina stirred beside him, her

Tomas stared up at him from the dirt. For a few seconds, the only answer Allen got was the man's breathing. Rough. Uneven. Every breath tugged at the split in his lip, and every small shift pulled at the belt binding his hands behind his back. Allen waited with Silverhowl low in his right hand. The blade wasn't at Tomas's throat anymore, but it didn't need to be. "Start from the beginning." Tomas spat blood into the dirt. "Already gave you the important part. Oren Veton." "Ren first," Allen said. That made him hesitate. Allen saw it and said nothing. Tomas let out a tired laugh. "Huh... Fine. Your cousin sees you at the market. New house, money, 2 armed men carrying half the damn market behind you. You don't look like the kicked dog he remembers." He shifted, winced, then went still again. "Ren runs home. Tells his father something changed. Oren wants eyes on it. He hires me." Allen's gaze stayed on him. "For what?" Tomas's mouth twitched. "To watch." "Did Oren order an attac

The charcoal line came out crooked. Allen stared at it for a beat, then kept writing. The flat piece of split firewood rested across his left palm. His right hand dragged the blackened stick over the pale grain, leaving short, ugly marks that were still clear enough under Night Vision. Across the wood he'd already scratched Oren, 2 nights, east delivery lane, weighing post, first light, and balance after final report. Across the kitchen, Tomas watched the tremor in Allen's fingers with tired amusement. "That's your record?" he asked. His eyes dropped to Allen's shaking hand. "Piece of fucking firewood and bad handwriting?" Allen looked up. "Again. Who pays you?" Tomas's head fell back against the wall. "Oren Veton hired me. His man pays the rest after I give the final report. Same answer as before." "Where?" "Market. East delivery lane, beside the public weighing post. First light." "What goes in the report?" Tomas breathed out through his nose. "Who comes by. What you buy.

The front-door latch clicked behind Allen.He stood there for a moment with his hand still on it.The lock worked. The door was solid. Stone walls. Proper roof. A house he'd paid 50 Star Gold for because it had felt safe compared to the shack they'd crawled out of.Tomas had still reached Seraphina's bedroom window.Allen let go of the latch."Boss?"Maris was in the front room near the window, short sword sheathed at his side. He'd been trying to look casual and failing badly enough that Allen almost respected the effort."Anything?" Allen asked."Nothing. Front stayed quiet. Back too." Maris glanced past him. "Fendrel?""Outside."As if summoned by the insult of being discussed, Fendrel's boots scraped against the stone path beyond the door. He'd walked back from the Guard post with Allen, mace over his shoulder, and hadn't complained.Annoying man.Allen's side pulled when