CHAPTER 1: Five copper short

Below him, the city was celebrating.

Colorful banners stretched between buildings. Merchants shouted over one another from crowded stalls, each insisting that whatever they happened to be selling was better than the identical thing being sold three stalls down. Music drifted through the streets. Children ran between adults. Somewhere in the crowd, a jester was receiving far more applause than Mouse thought he deserved.

Mouse took another bite of his apple.

He loved festivals. The food was better. People carried more coin.

And, most importantly, there were jesters.

Mouse had developed something of a tradition whenever one came through the city.

Find the jester. Wait for the knife-throwing act. Challenge him.

Mara had repeatedly informed him that challenging grown men who threw knives for a living was not an appropriate hobby for a nine-year-old.

Mouse disagreed.

Unfortunately, Mara had also given him a job.

Collect a bit of coin. Come home in time for dinner.

Simple.

Mouse looked toward the distant sound of cheering.

He could probably make it.

Probably.

But if he came back late again, Mara would nag him. Mouse hated being nagged slightly more than he loved festivals.

The jester would have to wait.

He tossed the apple core aside and slipped from the ledge.

His feet touched an awning below for barely a second before he sprang from it, caught the edge of a wooden sign, swung around it, and dropped onto the railing beneath. Three quick steps carried him across it before he hopped down into the street.

A passing man stopped and stared.

Mouse kept walking.

Yes. He was nine.

That was simply what happened when you grew up in the slums.

Besides, Mouse had work to do.

He had been watching his mark for most of the afternoon. A merchant. Fat purse. Loud voice. Good business.

And, most importantly...

Meat sticks.

Mouse liked meat sticks.

He liked corn sticks too, but that wasn't particularly relevant.

The merchant's cart had been surrounded nearly all day. Festival-goers came, handed over their coins, took their food, and disappeared back into the crowd.

Mouse had noticed something else.

Every so often, when the merchant's purse became too heavy, he reached beneath his cart. A few seconds later, he came back up with an empty purse.

Which meant there was something beneath that cart.

Mouse intended to find out exactly what.

He slipped into the crowd.

No rushing. Rushing got you noticed.

Mouse moved with everyone else, letting taller bodies hide him as he approached the cart. He watched the merchant's hands. Watched his eyes. Watched the customers.

Wait.

Wait.

Now.

Mouse disappeared.

One moment he was another child in the crowd. The next, he was beneath the cart.

Dark. Cramped.

And there it was.

A small wooden box bolted beneath the boards.

Mouse grinned.

Knew it.

There was a lock. A decent one, too.

For the average gutter rat, it might have been a problem. Mouse liked to think he was slightly above average.

He pulled a thin pick from inside his sleeve.

One pin. Two.

The third gave him trouble.

Mouse frowned.

Come on...

Click.

Less than thirty seconds.

Not bad.

He carefully lifted the lid.

His eyes widened.

Copper. Lots of copper.

And underneath it...

Silver.

Mouse stared for a moment.

That was a lot of money. Enough that the merchant probably wouldn't notice five missing copper.

Mara's rule was simple.

Five copper.

Mouse reached inside.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

He stopped.

There was considerably more than five sitting directly in front of him.

Mouse considered this.

Then closed the box.

Taking too much was stupid. People noticed when you got greedy.

Mouse slipped the coins into his pocket, locked the box again, and waited until another group approached the stall.

Then he was gone.

Back beneath the crowd. Back among the legs and boots and festival-goers.

Easy.

Mouse allowed himself a small smile.

Five copper. Job done. Dinner secured.

And if he moved quickly enough...

Maybe he could still find that jester.

Mouse had barely made it twenty steps when something tugged at his cloak.

He stopped. Looked down.

A small hand was wrapped around the fabric. Mouse followed it to the child standing behind him.

Another orphan. Smaller than him. Dirty. Thin.

And staring directly at Mouse.

Mouse sighed.

There went the jester.

Mouse looked down at the pathetic little thing.

Skinny arms. Dirty clothes. Hollow cheeks.

The child didn't say anything.

He didn't have to.

Mouse glanced toward the festival.

Well.

There goes my five-copper quota.

He slipped a hand into his pocket.

“Hey.”

The child looked up.

Mouse held out both hands.

Empty.

Then he flicked his fingers.

A copper coin appeared between them.

The child's eyes widened.

Mouse rolled it across his knuckles, closed his fist, and opened it again.

Gone.

The child blinked.

Mouse reached forward and plucked something from behind his ear.

The copper had returned.

For the first time, the child's expression changed.

Mouse placed the coin into his hand.

“There.”

The boy stared down at it.

Mouse couldn't help feeling strangely pleased with himself.

Then, for some reason, he got the distinct feeling that someone, somewhere, was laughing at his little performance.

His eyes narrowed. He glanced toward the rooftops.

Nothing.

...Lys.

Probably.

Mouse looked back at the child.

“You should learn a skill or two.”

The boy tilted his head.

“If you're going to survive around here,” Mouse continued, “you'd better get good at something.”

The child looked at the copper again.

Then he smiled.

A real one this time.

He nodded quickly before disappearing into the festival crowd.

Mouse watched him go.

Four copper. Mara had asked for five.

Technically, he'd gotten five. What happened afterward was none of her business.

Mouse started home.

There were faster ways through Blackfen. There were also considerably less confusing ones.

Mouse preferred neither.

He slipped into the Slums, ducking through the tangled alleyways as naturally as other children might walk down a road.

Left. Right. Under the broken stairs. Across the narrow passage between two leaning buildings.

Blackfen's Slums weren't designed so much as they had happened.

Buildings leaned against other buildings. Alleys split into smaller alleys before suddenly ending at walls, drains, courtyards, or somebody's home.

Mouse knew them anyway.

Mostly.

As he walked, his thoughts drifted toward home.

Mara was probably scolding Kael about something.

Actually, there was no probably about that.

Kael had almost certainly done something worth being scolded for.

Ren was probably teaching Tavin some new skill involving muscles only Ren had. Mouse wasn't entirely sure what those lessons accomplished.

Perhaps one day Tavin would become strong enough to lift a chair particularly well.

And Lys...

Mouse glanced toward the rooftops again.

Nothing.

His eyes narrowed.

Lys was probably watching him.

She had this strange obsession with following Mouse around without being noticed.

Apparently, it was a game.

Mouse didn't remember agreeing to play.

He'd had that feeling for a while now, though. That tiny itch at the back of his neck.

Someone watching.

Mouse casually turned another corner.

Still nothing.

She's getting better.

He wasn't sure whether to be impressed or annoyed.

Probably both.

The noise of the festival had faded considerably by the time Mouse reached one of the quieter stretches of the Slums.

Fewer people. Older buildings. Narrower streets.

Mouse was halfway past an alley when he stopped.

Something was wrong.

He heard shouting. A crash. Then another.

A commotion.

Mouse stared into the alley.

For a moment, he considered continuing home. Mara was waiting. He was already one copper short.

And whatever was happening down there was absolutely none of his business.

Mouse took two steps away.

Stopped.

His ears caught another sound from deeper inside.

He sighed.

Curiosity was a terrible thing.

Mouse turned around and headed toward the noise.

He kept close to the wall as he moved deeper into the alley. The shouting grew clearer.

Mouse slowed.

At the far end stood four men.

Three of them wore the unmistakable marks of the Black Hooks.

The fourth looked painfully ordinary.

And considerably less happy to be there.

One of the Black Hooks had him backed against the wall.

“Who did you rat us out to?”

The man flinched.

“And what happened to the delivery?!”

Mouse crouched behind a stack of broken crates and peeked around the edge.

The Black Hook raised one hand.

Purple flame burst to life across his palm.

Mouse's eyes widened.

Beautiful.

The fire hadn't come from a torch. There had been no words. No chant.

Nothing.

One moment, the man's hand had been empty. The next, violet fire curled between his fingers.

It twisted around his palm almost playfully, swirling and folding over itself as though it were dancing to thoughts only the mage could hear.

Mouse leaned forward without realizing it.

He'd seen magic before.

But not like that.

Not this close.

“I told no one!” the man shouted. “I swear! I dropped it off with the man waiting for me! He had the code phrase and everything!”

The mage's expression changed.

The purple flame continued dancing above his palm as he pulled his hand back slightly.

One eyebrow rose.

“What was his name?”

The man swallowed.

“What?”

“His name.”

“I don't know! I—”

The mage stepped closer.

The flame brightened.

The man's answer came considerably faster.

“Veyl!”

Silence.

The flame still burned.

But nobody moved.

Mouse blinked.

Something had changed.

Every Black Hook in the alley had gone completely still. The largest of them, standing farther back, had lost whatever bored expression he'd been wearing.

For a heartbeat, Mouse thought they looked as though a Deathless had dropped from the rooftops and snatched the souls straight from their bodies.

Mouse frowned.

Veyl?

The name meant nothing to him.

Apparently, it meant quite a lot to everyone else.

The largest Black Hook finally spoke.

“Are you sure that was his name?”

The man nodded quickly.

“Yes.”

Nobody spoke.

“Yes, I'm sure. Now am I free to—”

The purple flame vanished.

Mouse barely saw the mage move.

There was a flash of steel.

Then red.

The man's hands flew to his throat. He made a wet, choking sound before collapsing onto the filthy street.

Mouse froze.

He'd seen bodies before.

Everyone who grew up in the Slums had.

Sometimes people got sick. Sometimes people starved. Sometimes someone went to sleep in the cold and simply didn't wake up.

Death wasn't new.

That was different.

One moment the man had been talking. The next, someone had opened his throat.

Mara tried to keep the younger Rags away from things like that.

Mouse had always assumed she worried too much.

Maybe she didn't.

His foot shifted backward.

Something loose rolled beneath his heel.

Mouse's balance disappeared.

Oh, shit.

He hit the ground.

THUMP.

The sound echoed through the alley.

Mouse stopped breathing.

At the far end, three heads slowly turned toward him.

The mage's hand was still wrapped around the bloody knife.

Mouse's mind raced.

Run.

No. Terrible idea.

Mouse was sneaky. Mouse was quiet. Mouse was many things.

Fast wasn't one of them.

Even Ren could catch him, and Ren weighed about as much as a cow.

The big bitch.

Mouse's eyes darted around the alley.

Climb?

No. Too exposed.

Hide?

They already knew something was here.

Fight?

Mouse immediately discarded that one.

Three Black Hooks. One mage.

And Mouse had recently celebrated turning nine.

Every path his mind followed seemed to arrive at roughly the same destination.

Death.

Footsteps scraped against the stones.

Closer.

Think, Mouse.

Another step.

Think.

Closer.

Think!

A gloved hand wrapped around his mouth.

Mouse's entire body locked.

“Shhhh.”

The voice came from directly behind him.

Mouse didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't blink.

Then a smell reached him.

Sweet smoke. Roasted meat. Spices.

The festival.

Whoever was holding him smelled like the festival.

Mouse felt something change around them.

Magic.

At least, he thought it was magic.

There was no explosion of light. No roaring flame. Nothing like the Black Hook's violet fire.

The air simply...

shifted.

A thin distortion crawled across the space in front of him before disappearing almost completely.

Mouse stared.

The footsteps stopped.

The Black Hook mage stood only a short distance away.

Mouse's heart hammered against his ribs.

The mage looked directly at him.

Not near him.

Not past him.

At him.

Their eyes almost seemed to meet.

Mouse didn't dare swallow.

The mage stared for another moment.

Then he glanced toward the others.

“Must've been a mouse.”

Mouse's eyes widened slightly.

The Black Hook turned away. The others followed.

One by one, they disappeared into Blackfen's endless maze of alleys.

Mouse waited.

Five seconds.

Ten.

The hand remained over his mouth.

Finally, it released him.

Mouse exploded forward.

He spun around, putting several steps between himself and whoever had grabbed him, one hand already diving beneath his cloak for his dagger.

He never reached it.

Flick.

“Ow!”

Mouse stumbled backward, clutching his forehead.

Standing in front of him was a jester.

A real one.

Festival clothes. Gloves. A grin that looked entirely too pleased with itself.

The jester laughed.

“A little close there, Mouse.”

Mouse froze.

The jester laughed again.

“The copper you stole was one thing.”

He lifted a hand and mimicked Mouse's earlier trick, rolling an imaginary coin between his fingers.

“But the sleight of hand?”

Another laugh.

“Wonderful.”

The Jester spun once on his heel, arms spreading theatrically.

“But sneaking up on three Black Hooks?”

He stopped.

“That's crazy!”

Mouse stared at him.

“What were you thinking?”

The Jester leaned closer.

“If I hadn't been here, you surely would've...”

He stopped.

The smile remained.

But the sentence didn't.

For the first time since he'd appeared, the Jester went completely still.

Then his grin returned.

“Listen, Mouse.”

He wagged a finger.

“Stealing from a festival isn't something many people get away with twice.”

Mouse frowned.

“Twice?”

The Jester stepped closer.

Far too close.

His painted face hovered just inches from Mouse's.

“I'll be taking these.”

Mouse blinked.

The Jester stepped back.

Four copper coins danced across his gloved fingers.

Mouse immediately grabbed his pocket.

Empty.

“Hey!”

The Jester laughed.

“Don't worry, little Mouse.”

He reached somewhere behind his back.

“Here.”

A bundle of meat skewers appeared in his hand.

Mouse stared at them.

Where the hell had those come from?

The Jester placed them into Mouse's hands.

“Some cheese.”

Mouse looked down at the meat. Then back at the Jester.

“This isn't cheese.”

Another laugh.

“And next time...”

The Jester leaned down slightly.

“Try not to step into a trap.”

Before Mouse could ask what that meant, the Jester swept into an exaggerated bow.

Then he spun on his heel.

Once. Twice.

And skipped away.

Mouse simply watched.

Tiny bells jingled with every step. The sound traveled farther and farther into the maze of Blackfen's alleys.

Jingle.

Jingle.

Jingle.

The Jester disappeared around a corner.

The jingling faded.

His laughter lasted longer.

Then that disappeared too.

Mouse stood alone.

He looked down at the meat skewers in his hands.

“Creepy fucker.”

The walk back to the guildhouse was quieter.

Mouse ate one of the skewers along the way.

It was good.

Annoyingly good.

But his thoughts kept drifting back to the alley.

If I hadn't been here, you surely would've...

Would've what?

Mouse already knew.

Probably.

His fingers rose to his neck.

For just a moment, he could see the man again. The flash of steel. The blood. The way he'd grabbed his throat. The way he'd fallen.

Mouse swallowed.

Had that been about to happen to him?

He looked down at his hand.

Nine years old. Four copper poorer.

Alive.

The thought came suddenly.

Mara. Ren. Kael. Tavin. Lys.

Home.

What if he hadn't made it back?

What if he'd simply disappeared into one of Blackfen's alleys and never came out?

Mouse grimaced.

He didn't like that thought.

Not one bit.

He shoved the feeling somewhere deep inside himself and bit into another piece of meat.

Mara was going to ask about the missing copper.

That was a much safer problem to think about.

Mouse continued toward the guildhouse.

Calling it a guildhouse was generous.

It was unimpressive and tucked away in the lower reaches of Blackfen, far enough from the markets that the noise of the festival had mostly disappeared, but not quite deep enough to reach Old Veyra.

That distinction mattered.

Blackfen had a strange habit of getting worse the farther down you went.

The Rags lived in the Slums.

More specifically, the lower Slums.

Low enough that respectable people rarely visited.

Not so low that things started getting...

Weird.

There were only around thirty Rags.

Thirty mouths still needed feeding.

So everyone who could work had a quota.

Every day, you went out. Every day, you brought something back.

Coin. Food. Something useful.

Didn't particularly matter.

The Slums weren't interested in excuses.

Neither was Mara.

Mouse's quota today had been five copper.

He'd gotten five copper. He'd given away one.

And then a creepy fucking Jester had stolen the other four.

Mouse looked down at the meat skewers still in his hand.

He supposed these counted for something.

Probably.

Mara would decide.

That was the problem.

Mouse turned the final corner.

Home came into view.

The guildhouse was a surprisingly decent-sized building by Slums standards. Nothing impressive, especially compared with the proper guildhalls farther up in Blackfen, but it was theirs.

It sat among the crooked buildings of the lower Slums, almost uncomfortably close to the edge of a massive chasm.

Mouse walked beside it without much thought.

He'd grown up around the drop.

Visitors tended to react differently.

The chasm cut deep into Blackfen.

Very deep.

Nobody Mouse knew actually agreed on how it had gotten there.

One story claimed it was the scar left by an ancient Calamity, when a flood of impossible size tore through Blackfen and carved the canyon straight through the earth.

Another story claimed that was complete bullshit.

Mouse liked the flood story better.

He wandered closer to the edge and looked down.

The city didn't end beneath him.

It continued.

Down.

And down.

And down.

Buildings clung to the walls. Walkways crossed empty space. Ancient structures disappeared beneath newer ones until the Slums eventually gave way to the buried ruins people called Old Veyra.

And somewhere much farther below that...

The Deep.

Mouse leaned forward slightly.

Darkness swallowed most of what lay beneath him.

People had stories about the Deep.

Everyone had stories about the Deep.

And unlike most stories told around the Slums, some of them came from people who had actually been there.

Adventurers descended into the Deep all the time.

Some went hunting monsters. Others searched for treasure, ancient relics, or anything valuable enough to make the journey worthwhile.

Some returned with riches. Others returned missing limbs.

And some didn't return at all.

Mouse had heard that entire guilds organized expeditions into its depths, spending months preparing for journeys that might last even longer.

But as far as Mouse knew, nobody had ever reached the bottom.

Which was ridiculous, really.

How deep could a hole possibly be?

Apparently, very.

Some people even claimed that if you fell into the chasm, eventually it'd spit you out somewhere in the Deep.

Mouse had never tested that theory.

He planned to keep it that way.

Of course, Mouse had his own ideas about what waited farther down.

Vampires. Bandersnatches. Probably giant spiders.

Definitely something with too many teeth.

Maybe something with too many eyes.

Mouse frowned.

Actually, too many eyes might be worse.

Whatever lived at the bottom, Mouse was certain it was horrible.

And yet, somehow, the thought of discovering what was down there was almost as exciting as it was terrifying.

Almost.

Because Mouse could imagine something even worse than whatever lurked in the darkness.

Falling into the Deep. Surviving. Climbing all the way back home.

And finding Mara waiting at the guildhouse door.

Mouse shuddered.

Absolutely not.

He'd take the monsters.

He stepped away from the ledge and headed for the guildhouse.

Then he remembered the four missing copper.

Mouse slowed.

Maybe the monsters weren't such a bad option after all.

Mouse stopped outside the guildhouse door.

Warm light leaked through the cracks in the wood.

He could hear voices inside.

Lots of voices.

Then something crashed. Someone shouted. Another voice shouted back.

Mouse stared at the door.

It sounded like a fight.

He rolled his eyes.

“I'm the youngest one here, and somehow they all act like children.”

Mouse reached for the handle.

The door exploded outward.

BANG!

Mouse disappeared beneath it.

The meat skewers went flying.

For several seconds, Mouse simply lay there beneath the door, reconsidering every decision that had brought him home.

Something heavy shifted on top of it.

Mouse heard laughter.

Then a familiar voice.

“Ren! Those muscles aren't gonna protect you forever!”

Mouse's eye twitched.

Tavin.

Of course.

Tavin wasn't Mouse's brother by blood.

That had never mattered much.

They were the same age, but Mouse couldn't remember a time when Tavin hadn't felt like his brother. They ate together, stole together, got in trouble together, and more often than not got punished together.

At the moment, however, Mouse was considering becoming an only child.

“Now check this out!” Tavin shouted. “I've been practicing!”

Mouse shoved against the door enough to peek underneath it.

The guildhouse was in chaos.

Exactly as expected.

The old storage building wasn't much to look at. Crates and barrels were stacked wherever there was room. Blankets and mattresses filled the sleeping areas. Tattered cloth hung from the walls in a mostly unsuccessful attempt to keep the cold out.

Tonight, however, most of the Rags had gathered around the center of the room.

They'd formed a circle.

Several were exchanging copper.

Mouse stared.

They're betting.

Of course they were.

Tavin stood on the fallen door above Mouse, facing the opposite side of the guildhouse.

Ren stood there waiting.

At eighteen, Ren was one of the oldest Rags and easily one of the biggest. He folded his arms across his chest.

Compared with Tavin, Ren looked enormous.

Then again, compared with Mouse, most things looked enormous.

Ren grinned.

“Oh yeah?”

Tavin nodded confidently.

“Yeah.”

“You little shit.”

Ren spread his arms.

“Show me what you've got!”

The surrounding Rags cheered. Someone immediately shouted odds. Another kid threw more copper into the wager.

Mouse slowly dragged himself out from beneath the door.

Nobody noticed.

Naturally.

“I won't even deflect it!” Ren shouted. “I'll take it right to the face!”

Mouse brushed himself off.

Idiot.

Tavin planted his feet.

His expression became deadly serious.

The room quieted.

Tavin brought his hands together.

Then he began whispering.

Mouse couldn't make out the words.

Apparently, Tavin had been practicing magic.

This was news to Mouse.

Judging by everyone else's excitement, however, they had seen this particular performance before.

Tavin continued chanting.

Ren waited.

And waited.

Finally, Ren shouted across the room.

“You ready yet, brat?!”

Tavin's eyes snapped open.

Ren slapped both hands against his chest.

“Show me the fruits of your hard work!”

Tavin thrust both hands forward.

“FIREBALL!”

Mouse ducked.

Ren braced.

Several Rags jumped backward.

Nothing happened.

Silence.

Tavin remained frozen with both hands extended.

Ren slowly opened one eye.

Nothing.

Not a spark. Not a puff of smoke.

Not even a particularly warm breeze.

The guildhouse erupted.

Laughter filled the room. Kids doubled over. Someone who had apparently bet on Tavin immediately demanded their money back.

Ren tried to maintain his composure.

“That was close, Tavin.”

Tavin lowered his hands.

Ren wiped his forehead dramatically.

“You almost had me worried there.”

Mouse stared at him.

For just a second...

Was that actually sweat?

Surely not.

“I swear it was supposed to work this time!” Tavin protested.

That only made everyone laugh harder.

“I practiced all night!”

Ren raised an eyebrow.

“Did it work then?”

Tavin paused.

“Well... no.”

More laughter.

“But that's why I thought it would work now!”

Mouse couldn't follow that logic.

Apparently neither could anyone else.

Tavin started laughing along with them.

That was Tavin.

Failure never seemed to stick to him. Embarrassment didn't either.

Something could blow up in his face and he'd probably be the first person laughing about it.

From somewhere near the communal table came another unmistakable laugh.

Mouse turned.

Kael was perched on a stool, practically folded over himself with amusement.

Of course.

Mouse narrowed his eyes.

There was absolutely no chance this entire thing hadn't somehow been Kael's idea.

The guildhouse was still roaring with laughter.

Nobody seemed particularly concerned that the front door was no longer attached to the building.

For once, nobody was arguing about food. Nobody was complaining about quotas. Nobody was worrying about tomorrow.

For a few minutes, thirty kids who had very little were simply having fun.

Mouse stood outside the now doorless doorway, brushing dirt from his clothes.

Tavin finally noticed him.

His face immediately brightened.

“Mouse!”

He hopped down and walked over as though he hadn't just helped flatten his best friend beneath a door.

Tavin slapped a hand onto Mouse's shoulder.

“Did you see how cool your older brother was?”

Mouse stared at him.

Tavin was smiling proudly.

Apparently, he was referring to himself.

“We're literally the same age.”

Tavin's smile didn't move.

“And you lost.”

Still nothing.

Mouse pointed into the guildhouse.

“Look. Everyone is still laughing at you.”

Tavin glanced over his shoulder.

Several Rags were, in fact, still laughing at him.

He looked back at Mouse.

Then he started laughing too.

Tavin walked inside without another word.

Mouse watched him go.

“Idiot.”

“Welcome home.”

Mouse jumped.

“HOLY SHIT!”

He spun around.

Lys stood directly behind him.

Mouse grabbed his chest.

“STOP DOING THAT!”

Lys giggled.

She slipped past him toward the guildhouse.

Mouse glared at her back.

He hadn't heard footsteps. Hadn't felt her approach.

Nothing.

Again.

She was definitely getting better.

Lys reached the doorway, then stopped.

She turned back toward him.

“Where were you all day? I was looking every—”

She stopped.

Mouse noticed immediately.

Lys wasn't looking at him anymore.

She was looking...

past him.

Mouse felt it then.

A cold breeze brushed the back of his neck.

His entire body went rigid.

He knew.

He didn't need to turn around. Didn't need to hear a voice.

Didn't even need to see her.

Mara.

Mouse swallowed.

She was standing behind him.

And she was pissed.

Maybe about the door. Maybe about something Kael had done. Maybe about something Ren had done.

Maybe about something someone had done somewhere at some point during the last several hours.

There were roughly thirty Rags.

The possibilities were endless.

Mouse decided the safest course of action was obvious.

Pretend Mara didn't exist.

He casually stepped toward the guildhouse.

Lys remained frozen in the doorway.

Mouse gave her a tiny nod as he approached.

Move.

Lys didn't move.

Mouse squeezed past her.

Almost there.

One more step and he'd be inside.

A hand caught the back of his cloak.

Mouse stopped.

His feet were still moving.

Unfortunately, the rest of him wasn't.

He slowly looked toward Lys.

“Am I dead?” he whispered.

Lys considered the question.

“Maybe?” she whispered back.

Mouse closed his eyes.

Shit.

Mara was nineteen. Ren was eighteen. Kael was seventeen. Lys was thirteen.

Mouse and Tavin were nine.

Despite all the differences between them, there was one thing every Rag could agree on.

Mara had the strength of a gorilla.

Even Ren thought Mara was frighteningly strong, and Ren was part giant.

So Mouse wasn't particularly surprised when his feet left the ground.

Mara lifted him by the back of his cloak until they were eye to eye.

Mouse dangled there.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

Mara stared into his soul.

Mouse smiled.

“The quota?” she asked.

Mouse's smile became slightly less confident.

“I had it.”

Mara's expression didn't change.

“Had it?”

Mouse nodded.

Still smiling.

This was a delicate situation.

Mara loved Mouse. Mouse knew Mara loved Mouse.

More importantly, Mouse knew that Mara knew that Mouse knew Mara had a soft spot for him.

And Mara absolutely hated that.

They stared at each other.

Mouse continued smiling.

Mara's eyes narrowed.

Mouse smiled harder.

Finally, his feet touched the ground.

Mara released his cloak.

Mouse had won.

Probably.

She brushed some of the remaining dirt from his shoulder.

“We'll talk about what happened to your task later.”

Mouse's victory disappeared.

“I’m making stew.”

She looked through the missing doorway.

“And the boys have a door to fix.”

From inside came Ren's voice.

“What?!”

Mara ignored him.

Then she looked toward Lys.

“Lys.”

Lys straightened.

“Stop stalking your brother.”

Lys looked offended.

“I wasn't—”

Mara was already walking inside.

“Tavin!”

The laughter inside immediately intensified.

“What?!”

“The door!”

“That wasn't me!”

“You were standing on it!”

“Ren did it!”

Ren's voice boomed from across the room.

“How the hell did I do it?!”

“I don't know!”

“Then why'd you blame me?!”

“Because you're bigger!”

“That doesn't even make sense!”

“Fix it!”

Kael nearly fell off his stool laughing.

Mouse stood beside Lys and watched the disaster unfold.

Mara was the leader of the Rags.

Sort of.

Technically.

Calling her their older sister felt more accurate.

She kept everyone fed. Made sure quotas were met. Stopped fights.

Started entirely different fights when people didn't listen.

And somehow kept thirty Rags functioning as something vaguely resembling a guild.

She was strong, too.

Very strong.

But strength wasn't really her specialty.

Give Mara a bow and enough distance, and Mouse wouldn't want to be whatever she had decided needed shooting.

Then there was her hair.

Bright ginger. Wild. Impossible to ignore.

When the guildhouse caught the right light, Mouse thought it looked like torch flame.

Ginger hair wasn't unheard of in Blackfen, but it wasn't particularly common either. Mouse had heard it was much more common farther north.

He didn't know why.

He also didn't particularly care.

At that moment, Mara was using that flaming head of hair to chase Ren and Tavin toward the broken door while both desperately attempted to explain why repairing it should be someone else's responsibility.

The other Rags were still laughing.

Kael was useless.

Lys stood beside Mouse, watching the punishment with obvious satisfaction.

Mouse remembered something.

“My meat sticks.”

He walked back outside.

Most had survived.

Mouse gathered them from the ground, inspected one suspiciously, shrugged, and picked it up anyway.

Food was food.

He returned to Lys.

She looked down at the meat skewers. Then at Mouse. Then back at the skewers.

Mouse knew that look.

“Don't.”

Lys took one.

Mouse stared at her.

Lys took a bite.

“You didn't even ask.”

“You would've said no.”

“I might've said yes.”

Lys thought about that while chewing.

“No, you wouldn't.”

Mouse frowned.

She was probably right.

Together, they watched Mara terrorize two people significantly larger than she was.

Lys happily ate her stolen meat skewer.

Mouse ate one of his own.

The other Rags were still laughing.

The festival was still going somewhere above them. Mouse could faintly hear music drifting through Blackfen.

He'd watched a man die. Nearly gotten himself killed.

And been flattened by his own front door.

Not his best day.

Mouse looked around the guildhouse.

At Ren arguing.

At Tavin laughing.

At Kael making everything worse.

At Lys beside him, casually eating food she'd stolen directly out of his hand.

At Mara desperately trying to keep all of them alive.

Only one thought came to mind at moments like this.

I love my dysfunctional family.