"So one spring day I was sitting and watching the buds just starting to sprout out of this lichen-covered plum tree. It was so beautiful, seeing those little nubs shaped like candle flames but colored the brightest green you could ever want to see. On each one you could see the outline of all these little teeny leaves just waiting to unfold and grow. What made it even better was that it was an old, gnarled tree growing wild by the side of a cart track, all twisted and broken and rough, with knotty bark all covered with black and pale lichen. It was like a tree that had been dead for years and shriveled and burned and tossed aside, yet it had all that life inside just bursting to get out, beauty and hope splitting out at the seams all over the place.

"I decided I wanted to be that tree. I wanted a new life. I promised right then and there, swore on the sun god Hokatep that I'd never steal again. I found some work here and there, practiced the tricks you've seen, earned a few egorae that way-at least I did when times were better-and I got by. I had enough to eat most times, but, best of all, I felt good about myself. I found pride in my skills. Sometimes people even wanted me around, when the harvest was in and people had mintweight and they wanted to see someone without the talent play at being a wizard.

"See, here, like this," she said, stopping in the middle of the street. "Hold out your hand."

Demok hesitated, then held out his right hand. She turned his hand palm up and placed a copper in his palm, then turned his hips so his body faced her. Then she struck the heel of his hand with hers, snatching the coin from his palm.

He shrugged, unimpressed.

"The trick is distraction. While you were looking at your palm, I was doing my real trick. Take off your glove."

Instead, he felt the back of his right hand. Through the thin leather of his glove, he felt a coin. He dug in with his fingers and pulled out a silver. He pursed his lips and handed it back to her.

"Thank you," said Kehrsyn. "Since you're giving me my coin back, I guess I can return your dagger."

Demok's hand flew to his hip and found his scabbard empty.

"Impressive," he said, though his tone was one of displeasure.

"Thank you," Kehrsyn said again as she grinned and held out his dagger, concealed behind her left forearm. Her voice grew dim and her eyes dropped as she added, "That's how I've lived for the last seven years, doing tricks like that. I never hurt anybody, and I've never broken that vow. Until yesterday. I had a new life, but now it's gone."

She looked up at Demok, her eyes narrowed with anger and sadness.

"I'm going back to undo a theft that they made me do," she said. "They stole a staff from Massedar, and they stole my vow from me. And here Massedar treats me really good, he's a sweet man, and I've never met such a powerful guy who was so nice.

"So yeah, maybe that's a longer answer than you want, but I know what I'm doing. I'm going to hurt the people who robbed me of my new life."

Demok nodded and chewed on the corner of his mouth.

By silent consent, they began walking again. Kehrsyn scuffed along for a few moments, kicking at higher lumps of slush.

"Sorry," she said finally. "I didn't mean to drop all that on you. It's fine if you didn't want to listen to all that."

"Your father?" Demok asked.

Kehrsyn smiled to herself. He had listened. She was starting to wonder if anything escaped his notice.

She said, "I'd rather not talk about it just now."

Demok remained silent for some time as the two of them walked through the streets of Messemprar.

"Know where you're going?" he asked.

Kehrsyn stopped and said, "No, I guess I don't, but I know the name of the street, so I can find it."

"Ask me."

Kehrsyn laughed, and asked, "Do you know where Right Street is?"

"There isn't one," Demok said.

"There isn't? Maybe Right Avenue? Boulevard?

"No."

"But I know that's what Ei-what I heard him say," she said.

Demok rolled his eyes skyward and thought.

"Wheelwright's Lane," he said. "Near the north wall. Chariot Memorial. Try there."

He turned and started to walk away.

"Hey, thanks," Kehrsyn called after him.

She saw him wave in acknowledgment, a simple, efficient gesture as he moved off into the crowds.

Kehrsyn moved through Messemprar, the heat of her long, languid bath sticking with her as she walked the chilly, slush-filled streets. The slight tang of winter's snow still lingered despite the best efforts of the city's other smells, and Kehrsyn couldn't help but smile. She was warm, well fed, and out for revenge on those who'd wronged her. Best of all, she held the secrets over her so-called employers, and they were none the wiser.

Her brisk, confident gait, billowing cloak, and open sword parted the crowds before her, and she relished the sensation. Her entire life, she had been relegated to skulking in shadows, deferring to others, moving aside when persons of import passed by. She had gone from being the one to bow her head to the one walking down the center of the street.

She owed it all to Massedar, and in her heart, she thanked him for it. It wasn't just that she felt appreciated for a change. True, he'd spoken courteously, looked her in the eyes, indulged her, even promised her payment for services rendered-far more mercy than a thief could expect in Messemprar-but more so, he had set her upon a path of justice, with stakes far higher than the wedges and coppers and egorae she'd performed for.

Most of all Massedar had power and he had extended the aura of his power to her, his chosen agent. He had given a street waif like her a portion of his great stature. She'd never experienced anything like it.

She tried to think of the task ahead, but his piercing sky-blue eyes held her mind's gaze until she saw the unimaginatively named Chariot Memorial looming ahead of her.

The crowds were thick and noisy around the memorial, which suited Kehrsyn fine until she saw the source of the commotion. Some Zhent merchants had set themselves up at the foot of the great statue and were hawking advanced purchases of their forthcoming food shipment. The activity had generated quite a crowd, and Zhent guards and the city watch alike had posted themselves throughout the crowd.

Kehrsyn slid along the edge of the crowd, confident in her anonymity but nonetheless preferring to keep a safe distance.

After a few more tenbreaths' search, she found the building Eileph had inadvertently mentioned. Number sixteen Wheelwright was a two-story building wedged between two convergent streets that intersected some thirty yards away from the plaza of the Chariot Memorial. The building was shaped like a narrow wedge of flatbread, which, Kehrsyn mused, must have made life interesting for the architect.

It was on the verge of becoming dilapidated. The windows on the ground floor had all been securely, if inexpertly, boarded over. Heavy curtains filled the windows on the upper floor. The vertex of the narrow building was blunt, and into the end the main door had been set. In the years since the building had been created, however, it had sunk (or else extra dirt had raised the level of the plaza and surrounding streets), for the outward-opening front door was inoperable and had been boarded over as well. Instead, a ladder of questionable integrity led to a makeshift door roughly cut into the second floor. A sign dangled from one rung, proclaiming "NO ROOM."

Kehrsyn stuck out her lower lip appreciatively. The building looked poor and uncomfortable, declined the interest of the casual passerby, and yet was eminently defensible. In all likelihood, there'd be a hatch to the rear of the roof or a tunnel dug beneath the streets for a quick exit. Maybe both. It looked like a good setup.