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have thought to watch for her here numbered less than a dozen, at least so far as she knew. Almost none of them had the means to acquire eyes here , let alone the motive….
    Maurice…?
    Shins and Olgun both dismissed the thought almost as soon as it surfaced. The monk didn't have a dishonest bone in his body; his mere presence made other people's bones more trustworthy. Besides, it'd been him who warned her of the watchers in the first place, and while Shins had encountered people whose schemes were convoluted enough to involve that manner of deception—including a few clergymen—again, Maurice wasn't remotely one of them. So…
    “Who?” The young woman dropped into a crouch, the better to lock eyes with the wounded man. “Who hired you to—”
    “There! That's her!”
    “Oh, come on !” Shins didn't even need to turn to know what she'd see, though she did so anyway. Several of the citizens who'd seen her almost attack Maurice, and then take off after this fellow here; and along with them, a small patrol of the Church guard. They wore red tabards and simple breastplates, rather than the blinding and puffy garb she'd seen before—perhaps they dressed like mating birds only when guarding holy sites?—but they carried the same halberds, and did so with the same apparent skill.
    And these particular guards were carrying their weapons in Widdershins's direction, rather rapidly.
    “Olgun? This is your doing, yes? Some sort of a prank?”
    She knew, of course, that it wasn't; was already fleeing down the alley before she even sensed his answer. But it almost wouldn't have surprised her if he had claimed credit. Of all the lousy timing…
    The soldiers didn't bother to increase their pace. What would be the point? They were only steps behind her, and in the time it would take even a skilled climber to top the fence…
    “Little assistance, Olgun?”
    Her next step came down on nothing at all, a boost from nonexistent hands. She soared, higher than any normal leap could take her, angled not toward the fence—which was still too high to clear—butthe wall beside it. The sole of one boot slapped against old wood, Olgun's power tingled in the air yet again, and Widdershins literally kicked off the wall, launching herself higher still.
    She heard the sprinting guardsmen break into a bout of very un-Church-like cursing as she sailed easily over the fence, landed in a crouch in the dirt of what might once have been someone's vegetable garden, and raced away into the streets of Lourveaux….
    Wondering just how far she'd have to go from Davillon to escape this sort of thing, and who the frogs and fishes was after her this time!

“Tell me again,” the monk growled around a mouthful of gummy sludge, “why I agreed to accompany you to this revolting establishment?” He was still garbed in clothes that could, with extreme accuracy, be described as un-monk-like; nonetheless, he stood out in this rougher crowd like a maypole in a graveyard.
    Shins looked up from the scuffed and discolored table, grateful for the excuse to turn her attention away from her own—and she used the word loosely—“meal.” The goop in the bowl purported to be stew, but the young woman was quite sure it was lying on that score; she could just tell, by the expression on its face. Even Olgun seemed borderline nauseated, and he neither ate nor even possessed a stomach to upset.
    “Because you agreed to help me figure out who's looking for me,” she reminded him, “and you said this was the only place your…secret contact”—she barely kept the snicker from her voice—“would meet you.”
    “And why am I helping you, instead of fleeing back to the cemetery or the basilica as fast as my sandals can stand?”
    “Because you're wearing boots, for one thing.” Shins took a sip of watery ale, which was absolutely vile but still three steps above the pseudo-stew, then added, her voice friendly, “And second, because if you won't help me, I'll