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I like it.

Until I notice children begging for money in the streets. Temra breaks away from us for a moment to buy them all a meal from one of the vendors.

With a bigger city also comes more poverty and garbage. The streets are filthy, covered in human refuse and rotting food and muddied scraps of parchment.

“Oh, not that way,” Kellyn says, steering us to the right fork in the road instead of the left.

“Why?” Petrik asks. “What’s down there?”

“Less reputable businesses.”

“You mean, like a den of prostitutes?” Temra asks.

“Among other things.”

Temra stands in her stirrups and glances down the other road, as though that will help her catch a glimpse of something.

“Stop that.” I grab her arm and yank her back down in the saddle.

“What? I’m just curious!”

“If you thought the street urchins were sad, you don’t want to see the gaunt faces of those who work down there. Trust me,” Kellyn says.

“How come you’ve been down that street?” I ask skeptically.

“I took a job once for a man I didn’t know was seedy until I’d already agreed to the work. Thankfully, all I had to do was escort a delivery. Then I got out of there.”

Just a part of me wonders if he’s telling the truth. What if instead he frequents one of the brothels? Or maybe he specializes in seedy deals?

But I quickly shake the thought away. That’s not Kellyn.

I freeze, my hands tightening on the reins, and the obedient horse comes to a full stop.

Not Kellyn?

Since when do I think that I know Kellyn?

I make a clicking noise to signal the horse back into motion before anyone notices I stopped, my thoughts still troubling me.

Temra and I don’t know exactly where we’re headed, but Kellyn has a place for us to find rooms for the night. Tonight we get a real bed. That thought encourages me to press on through the throngs of people.

“Is it just me,” Temra asks a few minutes later, “or are we being followed?”

Kellyn does a casual glance behind himself while Petrik blatantly begins to turn. Temra grabs him by the shirt to stop him. I glance out of the corner of my eye and definitely note that we’ve attracted a few stares.

Normally, I catch that sort of thing right away, so aware am I of all the people around me, but I was distracted by my own thoughts.

“You’re right,” Kellyn says. “There are figures watching us from the alleyways.”

Petrik makes a strangled sound, and he jumps off his horse in front of a wooden board. There are all manner of flyers attached to it with iron nails. Missing persons notices. Apartments for rent. Lost pets.

The rest of us unsaddle to get a better look at what captured the scholar’s attention.

The most prominent and eye-catching item on the board is a single square of parchment bearing four neatly arranged faces.

Reward: 10,000 ockles per capture. Alive only. All weapons in their possession to be handed over. Notify Warlord Kymora.

And then I see all our faces painted.