“Let’s go,” Walegrin ordered, pushing away from the barrel head.
The gods alone might know who had followed Straton, Walegrin thought as he
crouched and ducked into the shadows where Thrusher was waiting for him. Every
Stepson had enemies in this part of town and Strat had more than most. He might
even have enemies who’d kill each other for the privilege of killing him.
Walegrin couldn’t indulge in expectant curiosities, though- not with Thrusher
picking a cat’s path through the garbage ahead of them. His squads had patroled
these warrens and knew where safe footing lay. He could only follow and hope
Strat had the good sense to do the same. Thrush led them onto the nearby
rooftops in time to see their bow-carying quarry land on the muddy cobblestones
below.
“Recognize him?” Walegrin demanded, pointing at the receding silhouette.
“Crit.”
Stepsons hunting Stepsons, was it? “After the other one,” Walegrin barked at
whichever of his men could hear. There were better ways to get information from
Critias than risking a rooftop confrontation. He turned to follow Thrusher and
realized that Strat hadn’t moved since identifying his erstwhile partner.
“It’s no time to be asking yourself questions, Straton.”
“He came to kill me,” Strat whispered, then stumbled on a loose roof tile and
lurched toward the eaves.
Walegrin caught a fistful of shoulder. “He hasn’t-yet. Now move it before we
lose the other one, too.”
Strat glowered and thrust Walegrin’s arm aside.
The second interloper knew the backways of Sanctuary and was hugging darkness