4

Safe House

I glance skyward. Between the buildings, the strip of bright blue is already darkening. I’m out of time. Swallowing a curse, I head toward the waterfront. Without a carriage, we won’t be able to transport the Degaths — it’s too long a walk to the house Rafiki has in mind, and the family will be too obviously out of place wandering the streets. I’ll have to come up with something else.

I keep a watch out for vacant buildings along the way, pausing at the intersections of alleys, studying the more decrepit structures for signs of occupancy. There are a few. Karolene may be a thriving trade city, but the occasional building does fall into disrepair; businesses close and leave behind empty shells; families board up their houses, intending to return one day, only they never do. Plans have a way of unraveling.

I barely step into the first building before I slip out again, moving on before the squatters I spot can register my intrusion. The second and third have too many broken windows and doors to hide our presence or be in any way defensible. When I happen on the fourth, only a few streets from where Rafiki and the Ghost will already be waiting for me, I know that this one will have to work.

The doors and shutters at ground level are still intact. It only takes me a moment with my trusty lock-pick set to get through the back door. Inside, I light a candle stub I keep for just such occasions and inspect the rest of the building. Past the large back room, a long hall lined by two rooms on either side leads to the front entry. The rooms have precious little to offer: moldering mattresses, blackened lumps that may have once been cushions, a scattering of refuse. But one of them does have a workable door.

Back in the hallway, I find a stairwell built between the front room and these smaller rooms, but the treads have long since fallen to pieces, leaving a splintered framework incapable of supporting weight. My eyes search the stairwell. How did it fall in when the doors and shutters are still in tact? I find my answer in the blackened ends of timbers: a fire that must have started on an upper floor. Given how thick the dust — and ash — lies here, there should be no one upstairs.

I cast around one last time, knowing that this is hardly the place to put a lord’s family. But we have no way to get them to Rafiki’s safe place tonight. It will have to do.

Before I leave, I pull a pouch from my pocket, weighing it in my hand, then extract the string of stone prayer beads within. Better to set them up now, when no one can guess at what I’m doing. I suppose I could tell the Ghost or Kenta about my Promise, if I had to. I can’t imagine them betraying me. But there’s no reason whatsoever for Rafiki to know. He may be part of the League, but I’m not convinced that he wouldn’t report me to the High Council for hiding my Promise and remaining “untrained” — formally, at least.

I shudder. Untrained Promises aren’t merely fined or sent to school. At my age, there would be only two options. I could choose to have my magic stripped from me, which would likely take my mind with it. Or I could agree to become a source slave, living in a mage’s household and being forced to funnel my magic into the mage’s own spells.

No, the wards go up now, before anyone else arrives.

With a quick tug I release the knot holding the loop of beads together. One by one, I line the inside of the building with the beads, leaving them below each window and along the walls, and at both exits. I return to the center of the building and kneel on the floor, cupping the last bead in my hand. I focus on the bead until I can feel it in my mind, feel the old ties that bind it to the circle I have set out, like the filaments of a single-stranded web. Reaching out through it, I slowly wake each stone, renewing old bonds and closing the circle I’ve created around the building. The bead in my hand grows warm as I send my thoughts out through it, sensing each of its siblings, assuring I haven’t accidentally mixed their order and left a gap. But the wards fall into place around me perfectly.

I’ve cast this spell dozens of times, using it as a protection when I’ve slept in abandoned buildings or on rooftops. I wonder what my mother would have thought, if she could see me. I’ve never heard of a mage using prayer beads, but they’re stone, the traditional material for setting wards. Keeping them on a string retains their order so that I don’t have to recast the spell when I need it. I only need to reawaken it, and, when I am done, be careful to gather the stones in the same order that I lay them out.

My beads also reduce the chance that anyone will notice my magic-working, for an old spell draws less attention than a bright, spangly new one.

Wiping a thin sheen of sweat from my brow, I pocket the final bead and head out. I find Rafiki and the Ghost both waiting in a shadowed alley a block inland from the esplanade.

“Where’s the carriage?” Rafiki asks, his voice ringing out loud in the empty alleyway. The Ghost touches his elbow, quieting him, but he too looks at me, waiting. For once I’m glad that his hood shadows his face.

“I couldn’t get one. The proprietor didn’t trust me.”

Rafiki swears. At least he doesn’t ask about the coin purse.

“It’s all right,” I say, keeping my eyes on the darkness where the Ghost’s face would be. “I’ve found a place for them — a vacant building, safe enough until we can get a carriage. There should be one free by morning.”

I can’t see the Ghost’s hands beneath his cloak, but I would guess they’re clenched around the hilt of his short sword and his dagger. He must be the most clean-mouthed man I’ve ever met: When he gets upset, he just goes quiet.

“Where’s the building?” he asks.

I describe its location and setup. Just as I finish, Kenta darts into our alleyway. In his tanuki form, he hardly comes to my knee, his honey-colored fur so thick he looks more plump than dangerous. His legs and belly are covered in darker fur that travels up his neck and wraps around each side of his face to his eyes, suggesting a mask that doesn’t bridge his nose. His ears, twin triangles atop his rounded face, are furred as well.

He pauses, brown eyes reflecting the twilight, then tilts his head in a question.

“She couldn’t get a carriage,” Rafiki explains. “Apparently

“We’re walking,” the Ghost says, cutting him off. “Rafiki, Kenta, with me. Hitomi, you stay here.”

I bristle at his tone. I don’t mind missing the conversation with the Degaths, but I’m the only one who’ll be able to feel the wards I’ve set. “Fine, but I’m coming with you to the building.”

The Ghost hesitates. “No,” he says, and walks around the corner. Kenta follows, sending me a quick glance, ears perked. I try not to glare at him. Rafiki is already gone.

I turn and kick the wall, which only hurts my foot. How could I have known that fish-brained proprietor wouldn’t rent to me? Is it my fault I don’t look like a rich servant?

I put my foot down gingerly, curling my toes to see if I’ve broken anything, and run over my exchange with the Ghost again. I find myself grinning wickedly. He hadn’t barred me from going altogether, just going with them.

I follow after the others, setting a brisk pace until I catch sight of them again. Rafiki and the Ghost wait just before the intersection with the road that lines the esplanade. I take up a position at the corner of a nearby building, peering around the wall as Kenta trots back into view, followed by a lone man. Lord Degath. The Ghost must have told him to look for Kenta — or rather, the raccoon dog that is Kenta.

In the fading light, I can just discern the shape of the Ghost’s flowing black cloak as he steps forward to meet Lord Degath. I can’t make out the conversation from here — they speak with lowered voices — but Degath is clearly worried about the missing carriage. I have a feeling that the Ghost hasn’t mentioned that their destination isn’t really a house.

“Baba?” A young woman calls as she crosses the street toward the meeting taking place, her voice clear and carrying. “Where is the carriage they said they’d send?”

I stare. Is she mad? Does she have any idea what she’s doing? Even if she doesn’t care about Blackflame finding her, she’s a rich girl entering a back alley. More than a few people would kill her for no greater reward than the dress she’s wearing. Not here, I hope, but it still doesn’t make sense to take such a stupid risk.

Her father, to his credit, attempts to quiet her, but I can hear her next question: “We are going to a safe house, though, aren’t we?”

Her voice is imperious, commanding, as if the phrasing of her words as a question is irrelevant. We will take her where she wishes. I frown. Her demeanor, her high-pitched insistence, and her use of the words “safe house” — as if we have a network of homes in which to hide fugitives — rubs me the wrong way. I’ve met plenty of annoying people working with the Ghost, but this is different. Why should it matter to her whether we take her straight to a boat or hide her on the island, so long as she is protected? And where did she get the idea that we even have safe houses?

Her father says something in response, and while I can’t quite hear his words, I do catch her name: Saira. Even if I hadn’t heard him, I would have caught it a moment later when her older brother, Tarek, hurries across the street, calling after her, “Saira. Saira! You’re supposed to stay with us.”

Lord Degath snaps at them both, ordering them into the alley and telling them in no uncertain terms to remain silent.

I close my eyes for a moment. It never occurred to me that the Degaths would be anything other than grateful. I can just imagine Saira’s disgust at the building I’ve selected. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from chuckling.

The Ghost finishes his conversation with Degath without further interruption and drifts back into the shadows. Rafiki waits nearby. Degath crosses the street to collect the rest of his family, returning almost before he’s left with his youngest daughter, a girl of about ten, and Lady Degath. I can’t make out much about either of them in the fading light, other than that they both seem to understand the concept of not attracting attention, hardly speaking at all.

Saira begins to complain again as Lord Degath motions for his family to follow after their rescuers. Just one night, I remind myself, easing back from the corner. One night and we’ll be rid of them.

Holding that thought in my mind, I head for the vacant building.

A block from my destination, I hear the click of nails on cobblestones.

“Hey, tanuki-boy,” I say. “Did you think you could leave me behind?”

Kenta cocks his head as he draws even with me, brown eyes laughing.

“Just don’t let on I’m here until they’re all inside,” I say. The Ghost won’t send me away once we’re holed up; it’s not worth the risk of anyone seeing me leave. Kenta agrees with a soft barking laugh.

At the door, though, he snaps his teeth at me before darting in. I hesitate, glancing from the dark alley to the even darker interior, and realize that Kenta is doing a quick search to make sure no one else has entered. I could tell him it’s unnecessary; no one has disturbed the wards I’ve set. But of course I can’t….

There’s also the possibility that Kenta might sense the wards, but only if he’s actively looking for magic. He likely wouldn’t be able to connect the wards to me regardless. There’s nothing to worry about, I tell myself at least five times while I wait.

Kenta pops back out of the building, taking up a station beside the door. I nod to him and he dips his head in return. Safe, then, in every way that matters. I slip into the building. Without a candle, it’s much slower going. I cross the room by memory, feel my way to the central hallway and follow it to the collapsed stairs. Kicking a few splintered boards away, I squat in a corner at the back. With the shadows as dark as they are, and Kenta there to assure the Ghost there’s no need to search the building again, it’s unlikely anyone will realize I’m here.

I tilt my head, unable to discern anything until I hear the faint shuffle of footsteps at the door, followed by voices.

This? This is no safe house!” It’s Saira, and she sounds furious. Not worried or confused or curious. Irate. I close my eyes. I don’t like the sound of her at all.

“It is a house, and it’s safe,” Rafiki replies shortly. She must have been making quite a nuisance of herself on the way over. “What more do you want?”

“Saira.” A woman’s voice, hard and sharp as honed steel: Lady Degath. “That is more than enough. These men are saving our lives. At least maintain the pretense of being a lady and accept their help with gratitude.”

A short silence. I hear the door creak closed.

“It’s so dark,” a small voice says — the younger daughter.

“I’ll light a candle,” the Ghost offers with familiar kindness. “But only for a few minutes. Once we’re settled in, we’ll have to blow it out. We must be careful not to attract attention.”

“Didn’t you say this place was safe?” the son asks.

“Yes. It is also supposed to be vacant,” the Ghost says, his words measured, as if he were addressing a simpleton.

Light flickers, chasing away the absolute darkness of the hall: the Ghost has lit his candle.

“Follow me,” he says. I hear his shoes in the hall, the others behind him. The stairs are past the four small rooms, so there’s no reason to think he’ll lead the Degaths this far. But if he does, there’s a good chance he’ll spot me right away.

“Is that a lycan?” the little girl’s voice pipes up. I grin as someone hushes her.

Saira snorts with derision. “It’s just a dog, Alia. And a fat one at that. Lycans look like wolves.”

I almost choke trying to keep from laughing. It’s going to be a while before I let Kenta live down that particular snub.

The Degaths settle into their room quietly, Lady Degath making a single cutting remark that assures near silence from her children. The Ghost glides out after a moment or two, pausing in the hallway. I can just make out his form, backlit by the candlelight. I expect Rafiki is keeping watch at the back door. Kenta glances up at the Ghost, head cocked as he waits in the hallway. Together, they start down the hall to the door.

“We need to lock the door,” the Ghost says, his voice barely audible.

“If Hitomi were here, she could have done it,” Rafiki observes. I blink in surprise. I never would have thought Rafiki would stand up for me. “Too bad she ran. Didn’t even get the carriage. You just can’t trust a mgeni.”

Strike that.

“That’s enough, Rafiki,” the Ghost says, sounding peeved. Then, “We’ll need to bar it from inside.”

I rise, stretching out my legs before making my way down the hall. I pass the Degaths’ room, keeping away from the light, but I can’t resist a look inside.

Lady Degath sits against the wall. On the ground beside her lies a blanket for her two daughters. The youngest, Alia, has already lain down. Saira lifts up a small mirror to inspect her hair. Her hair? Maybe the girl is crazy.

I continue on to the back room. “All right, boys,” I say sweetly. Rafiki and the Ghost both whirl around, daggers jumping to their hands. Kenta’s teeth gleam in a laughing smile. “Since you missed me so much, I guess I’ll just have to come help out again.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the Ghost says, his voice hard.

“Who’s going to lock the door for you then?”

“We’ll manage.”

“Right. Rafiki, you leaving to find that carriage?” I really hope he doesn’t go to Master Khalid’s inn first. Not that the story of what I’ve done won’t get out soon enough anyway. I’d just rather the Ghost not know tonight.

Rafiki backs out of the door. “I’ll be back soon,” he assures the Ghost, and hurries off. I can hear Kenta’s nails click against the floorboards as he slips away deeper into the building, leaving us to fight alone.

Hitomi.”

“Save it. Two sets of ears are better than one.”

He sighs. “There’s Kenta.”

“Fine. Three sets are better than two,” I amend, stepping past him. I interpret his sigh as a sign that he’s giving in. I swing the door shut, plunging the room into near darkness. This far away, the candlelight from the Degaths’ room is no help at all. Still, it only takes a moment to lift the pins and turn the lock. “This is my fault. I’m not going to leave you to deal with it alone.”

“It isn’t a question of fault,” the Ghost replies.

I shrug, even though he can’t see me in the dark. Maybe he believes that, maybe he doesn’t. “I can help here,” I say. “Let me stay.”

Granted, it might be difficult to send me away through a locked door, but making the request offers him some semblance of control.

What he says next takes me by surprise. “I don’t like the feel of this.”

I rock back on my heels, peering blindly toward his voice. This may be my first time sneaking out fugitives, but the Ghost has helped a handful of other families escape before tonight. He would know if something felt off. “Is it the older girl?”

Silence. Okay then.

“What do you think she’ll do?” I ask.

“I can’t tell.”

I wish I could see what he looks like. I hadn’t realized until now how much I’d learned to read of his moods from how he holds himself, even without being able to see his face.

“We’ll keep a watch on her,” I promise. “Do you want me to stay in the room with them?”

“No. Don’t let them know you’re here.” I hear the rustle of his cloak as he shifts. “It’s best we get them out of Karolene as fast as we can.”

“Faster than we planned?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. “We’ll see. The dhows are all out fishing tonight, so there’s nothing we can do until dawn. I’ll send Kenta to the beaches to see if we can move the Degaths out as soon as the fishermen have unloaded their catch.” He doesn’t name the dhow owner, his words sounding slightly awkward. Because of Saira.

“Hole up wherever you were before,” the Ghost continues. “Stay there until we leave, then follow us out. There’s no reason for the Degaths to know you’re here.”

“Where will you be?”

“Here,” he says, by which I gather he means the back room, keeping a watch on the door. Kenta must have taken the front door.

“Let me know if…” If what? Even I’m not sure what might happen. “If I can do anything,” I finish awkwardly.

“I will,” the Ghost says.

I stand up and start toward the hallway, using the faint fall of candlelight as my guide. The Ghost comes along behind me, no doubt to tell the Degaths to blow out the candle.

“Hitomi?” the Ghost murmurs as we near the door.

Hmm?”

“Be careful.”

I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder. I can’t make out a thing in the darkness. A hand touches my shoulder, and then the Ghost steps past me to the Degathsroom.