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modern Travelers got most of it wrong. One skinny fifteen-year-old kid wore a bear-tooth necklace—bears were not native to Avernus—and a wide-brimmed hat made out of felt. Another woman squinted at him through a pair of spectacles perched on her nose.
    The end result was a tent full of people who looked like they had bought their costumes from a shady acting troupe.
    Each of them had an owl.
    One woman had a giant brown owl cradled in both her arms. Another man sported a fluffy black owl on one shoulder, and the woman next to him had a sleek white owl perched on the top of her head.
    All the owls stared directly at Denner. He couldn’t escape their huge, unblinking eyes without walking out of the tent.
    Maybe this was what he hated about Avernus. There was always a bird watching you.
    The High Watcher of the Strigaia tribe sat at a desk directly in front of Denner. She reached up and adjusted the blindfold over her eyes.
    “We believe the Halliat tribe has taken our young rebel in an attempt to use her powers against us. We have seen this future. If our rebel remains alive, then everything the Strigaia tribe has worked for all these years will count for nothing.”
    Denner cleared his throat. “What has the Strigaia tribe worked for all these years?”
    “Never mind that,” the High Watcher snapped. Her huge black owl glared at him from over her shoulder.
    Denner’s over-sized, leather-bound book shifted under his arm. He pressed his arm tighter against his side, squeezing the covers together.
    The book let out a little squawk, but it sounded enough like a bird that Denner hoped nobody noticed.
    “Eliminate the rebel,” the High Watcher continued. “Bring proof of her death back to us. You will be compensated appropriately.”
    She produced a leather purse and upended it on her desk, spreading gold coins across its surface.
    “How dramatic,” Hariman said, from beneath Denner’s arm. Denner held the book tighter, wishing he would shut up for just another minute.
    Several Avernus Travelers gave Denner odd looks, perhaps wondering how he could speak without moving his mouth. A couple of owls cocked their heads.
    Denner barely noticed; he was staring at the gold. How many nights in a real bed would that buy him? He had been on the road for so long. He could always stay in his bedroom back in Valinhall, but that place had…unpleasant memories for him now. Like most of the others, he stayed away as much as he could.
    “Do I have to kill her?” he asked at last.
    The old woman raised an eyebrow, which looked decidedly odd behind her blindfold. “I thought I had hired a warrior of Valinhall, not an Asphodel Gardener.”
    “You haven’t hired me yet,” Denner said, though the gold did look awfully tempting. It did bother him, though, that they simply assumed that as a Valinhall Traveler he would be comfortable with murdering some stranger. Was their reputation as bloody as all that?
    “As it happens, yes, we do need her killed,” the High Watcher said. “Her sight is too dangerous to simply keep locked away.”
    Denner scratched at the stubble on his cheek, debating. “If she can see the future, then I don’t see what hope I have of catching her by surprise.”
    There were ways, in Valinhall, of evading visions and other forms of supernatural sight. But none that Denner could access on short notice.
    The High Watcher waved her hand. “The sight is not such a convenient thing. I do not anticipate that you will have any trouble. We would catch her ourselves, if she were not so close to Halliat land. We are not a match for their eagles in open combat; only by foresight and preparation do we remain safe.”
    “What makes you think that I’ll be any safer, then?” Denner asked.
    “We wish to hire the best,” she said. “And we’ve heard you have something of a specialty in this area.”
    Under Denner’s arm, Hariman cackled.
    Everyone was staring at the book now, even the blind High Watcher.
    “Is your