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Sinna Val Toric’s account of the Frigid War’s battlefield will haunt me for the rest of my days. I have kept an

addendum in my desk with the more gruesome details, but what I will write here is that Golath showed no mercy to

their neighbors. The spellcasters of Golath studied darker sides of magic meant to maim and destroy. Princept

Morrette was last seen in the middle of the battlefield, armed with the traditional twin blades called Julran fangs

and killing as many foes as they could. Alas, even two years later there is no proof that the Princept survived.

-"The Tragic History of Julra," by High Scholar Yuret Wend, Year 39 of Ber's First Reign

This marked the first time I’d ever crept into The Hanging Cat.

It was more of a pain in the ass than I’d originally anticipated, since there were only two entrances to the whole damn building, and both were under Gaion’s watchful eye. I'd hoped staying away for three days would throw Irin off my trail, but it seemed he sent his annoyingly talented spymaster to collect me. I would only catch occasional glimpses of him around corners or lurking in shops I passed, but unfortunately for him his disguise was useless now that I'd had that same experience with Gennel. I knew what to look for, the auras that encased their bodies and sat close like a second skin instead of emanating freely, was a dead giveaway. How two hydromancers in this city had that skill and I was unaware rankled me.

I'd booked some rooms in different taverns around the lower streets and popped into some stores, until I finally managed to sneak out the back of one and into an alley that connected alongside The Hanging Cat.

Finally, my luck has been resurrected.

The back door led through the kitchen, which opened up right next to the bar where Gaion would likely be, making that entrance unusable. The front door was obviously out. So, I had to jump the rooftops like a stray cat and hope I could open my room’s window without breaking it. Waiting until nightfall letme slip through the shadows with my magic but unfortunately made me insubstantial as a ghost in the process.

Therefore, I had to drop my cover and get in with my solid body without falling off the building.

Now I sat perched on the edge of the tavern’s roof above my bedroom window, chewing over my choices while blessedly invisible. Admittedly, I didn’t think this far ahead when I decided to sneak out of Gilamorst and go to the Clifftombs myself. I spent the rest of the day after that disastrous meeting with Irin sitting by Trisne’s grave, wondering how my life had come unraveled this quickly by investigating the woman’s death. It was sheer luck I saw Sett questioning a store down the street from the cemetery before he saw me, but it wasn't long before he caught onto me and started this whole chase through the city.

“Ok, you can do it.” I blew out a heavy breath through pursed lips and shook out my hands. “Just step on the ledge. That’s it. Stop being a baby.”

One hundred years of life, and I somehow hadn’t shaken my deep fear of heights. It took everything in me not to look down as I turned slowly and pushed my lower body off the clay tiles of the roof, sliding bit by bit while holding onto the tiles to drop bit by bit until my feet could find something solid to stand on. I thanked the Old Gods it was late enough at night for no one to be on the street, watching me dangle off the ledge and flail frantically.

Then one of the roof tiles shifted, loosening my grip until it slipped off.

“Gods damn it!”

My right foot hit something solid, and I frantically tried to reach out with it to step on what I hoped was my window’s ledge. I couldn’t keep my hold on my left hand much longer, and with another vicious curse, flung myself from the roof’s edge to the narrow piece of wood. After some interpretation of a birdflapping its wings, I managed to recover my balance and press myself tightly to the window, gripping both edges of the frame for dear life.

Thud thud thud thud.My heart beat wildly in my chest and my heavy breathing was so loud it was all I could hear. I hated the tears that pricked my eyes out of fear of slipping off the ledge. I may technically be immortal, but it would still hurt like a bitch to fall on the unforgiving street and have to pick myself back up.

But I had to keep going. There really was nowhere to go but through the window.

“Gods damn this stupid frame!” I hissed, jiggling the window to try and pop the simple latch on its sash. After ruing the day any window was invented, and some rather aggressive shakes, the latch finally popped free before I had time to fall off the second story.

Desperately my hands scrabbled along the glass to find a lip to pull the window up with. At the smallest possible gap to slip through, I crammed myself through the hole and practically rolled onto the floor. It took a good couple of minutes of me lying on my back, staring at the tiny cracks running along the plaster on the ceiling, before I could get my frantic breathing under control. I thanked what little luck I had that the tavern’s patrons were loud as a riot downstairs, keeping Gaion and his staff occupied while I banged around up here.

My pack was still slumped in the corner of the room by the door where I threw it last. I hastily rummaged through the old chest of drawers for a couple sets of spare clothes to stuff in the weathered sack, then snatched my belt from the top of it to wrap around my waist.

“What else, what else?” I hummed to myself. It was a quick survey of the room, but enough to tell me there was not much there to take. Satisfied with my hasty but thorough packing, I moved to the door to peek out and see if I was able to sneakdown the hallway to the window at the end and climb out. It faced the back of the building, so I was much less likely to make a total ass of myself trying to climb out.

“Is Haron Val Toric here?”

An unfamiliar voice boomed over the raucous laughter and hollers of the tavern, dimming it slightly with the new guest. It was deep and commanding and seemed particularly urgent. My guess was it belonged to the royal guard regarding the report on Nebold’s death. Irin would have been less than pleased to find that information out from someone other than me. Now he’d sent someone to come haul me off and interrogate me in the dungeons.

So much for that sliver of good luck I thought I had.

“I already told ya, I haven’t seen her since three days ago,” Gaion’s gruff voice could barely be heard. “I have your message to—Wait, where d’ya think you’re going?”

“Oh, shit.”

There was only one place Gaion would take offense to someone just barging in, and that was the guest rooms on the second floor. The floor I was currently standing on, with my room being the second one on the left from the staircase. Whoever was about to come up here would see me as soon as they climbed the eighth step.