Asinis lifted his head from the patched blankets he lay amongst. They had moved Mr. Noarwin's table under the window, so Asinis and Silas could sleep on the floor or sofa. Mr. Noarwin spent the night in his room in the back, while Feri took refuge in a smaller room just beyond the curtains. It surprised Asinis when Mr. Noarwin took her privacy into consideration. He'd half expected Mr. Noarwin to invite her to his bed despite her ugliness or demand she share the floor with the others. Though Asinis preferred keeping Feri close, he appreciated their separation this once. He crept onto all fours. Silas slept without any sign of disturbance. Asinis curled to his feet and, pocketing his ring of disguise, tiptoed out the door.

A warm night greeted him. Asinis swept his gaze over the neighbor's open window from which sweet incense snaked into the faint moons' light. He studied the stacked homes towering in all directions. Low lit lamps hung on a few posts to illuminate the planked slums. Asinis zigzagged down the stairs under their glow. He passed magenta, crimson, and blue canvases placed as if in an attempt to brighten the place. Some dipped over individual homes while others crisscrossed to all sides of the street. Below them, Asinis's boots splashed into a puddle. Torchlight reflected on its rippling surface. It settled, and Asinis got a view of his face. He frowned at it. Dirty. Scruffy. He ran a hand over his stubble. He almost preferred the ring’s disguise. His finger brushed over the fragment, and his appearance changed into the dark, plain-looking young man. He stooped his shoulders and avoided the graveyard patrol and the few people working or seeking pleasure so late at night.

He wound through the dark streets. Rough types shouldered past him. An urchin slipped one's coin purse off his belt before slinking into an alley undetected. The capital, Asinis observed, became a very different place at night. Then, at the edge of the city, he stood before a broken net of iron bars over a massive tunnel to the sewers. Rust and algae climbed across the bars while gathered moisture dripped from the severed ends. Asinis covered his face with a hand for the stench wafting from inside and then stepped through the opening. Rats scurried out from the light he conjured in front of him. He avoided the water by balancing on a ridge bordering the sewage stream then paused at a crossroads. He found the small mark indicating a direction and followed it until he came upon a manhole. Asinis, grinding his teeth, twisted and pulled it open. It screeched and groaned until it revealed an inky abyss he climbed into by a series of bars floating between it and the bottom. His knuckles white, he descended until a faint light coming from one direction revealed signs of the bottom. Asinis planted his feet there and, sending a wary glance up, gathered his bearings.

He didn't think he’d find himself here again, but circumstance implored he try to fulfill Mr. Noarwin’s demands. Despite himself, Asinis couldn’t let Feri get dragged down any further. Damned magic had made him soft. He turned toward the illuminated tunnel and followed it into a chamber that opened up. Asinis heard the bustle of people first, then the light from inside stung his eyes. When they adjusted, he found himself in a familiar underground market, The Cerulean Hatch. No one shouted their wares. Most conversations consisted of bargaining or arguments. Asinis passed a hobgoblin and ogre bickering over the price of some weapon, while the human seller watched chewing on a toothpick.

“We can’t afford that, and you know it,” the hobgoblin said to the ogre.

“I need it to kill elves,” the ogre said.

Asinis hurried past them. An audaciously dressed, yellow-skinned solare strutted across the road, pickpocketing those she passed. Asinis didn’t call her out, and neither did anyone else who spotted her. He picked his way through the sparse crowd until coming upon the edge of the underground town near sewage passages. A piece of ground rounded at the edge where a series of raised stones caught many an unsuspecting pedestrian by their feet. They created a series of patterns between which algae grass grew. An old, dark-skinned man with silver hair sat on one of the stones. He wore gray rags and held onto a crooked walking stick. A lumbering orc stood over him beside a ranger type human with a couple goblins on his heels. They made an odd group, which pressed Asinis to hurry on. He didn't want to get mixed up in shady business with adventurers or villains. He didn't make it far before one of the goblins cackled and swiped at the old man. He fell over his sitting stone, revealing that he had a missing leg and the other was bandaged. Asinis ducked his head. A flicker of frustration sparked in his chest, but wanting to avoid a confrontation, he pressed on.

The human-ranger bent over the old man. "Looks like someone's unloaded groceries on you, elder. We're going to take that off your hands for you."

"No. Please. Don't do that." The old man's cloudy eyes shifted left and right as he padded the grass and stone for his dropped bag. Water seeped up around his hands from the pressure and soaked his clothes. "I gathered this for the urchins. They're starving," he said.

"We're hungry too, old man," the orc grunted. He shoved the beggar back by the head, his whole hand encompassing his face. The goblins, snickering, tore into the burlap sack and shoved their faces into it. The ranger picked one up by the scruff and tossed him back. It landed on its feet and raced toward him. The orc had picked up the other glutenous goblin and held it aloft. It propelled its arms and legs as if to air swim toward the food, a shred of dried meat dangling from its teeth.

The ranger squatted and picked through it. "Junk. All of it," he growled. "This belongs in the sewage with you."

Asinis's shoulders tensed. He tried to force his feet forward, but something like a coaxing finger made him peek behind him. The orc tossed the goblin off and lifted the old man by the arm. The ranger had already gone to the edge of the ring to dump the food into the sewer channel. It plopped and dribbled. The ranger paused to bite into a piece of bread then pocketed it before reaching in to get rid of the rest.

Asinis filled his lungs with a breath that momentarily eased his panic. Then, he found a shadow to stand in and extended his arm. The orc grunted and shifted his shoulders uncomfortably first. Sweat beaded on the old man's brow and caught on his wrinkles as it dripped down his face. The ranger felt it next and frowned. The goblins, who had rejoined them, fell on their haunches and huffed weakly. One wiped the sweat off his face while the other groaned and fell on his back.

"Pefris," the orc said.

The ranger grunted and pulled his collar away from his neck. "We're done here," he said. "Toss him—" he stopped and looked down at the bag still partly full. An unseen force was tugging it away from him. "What the hell?" He pulled on it, but the thing didn't move.

"What's going on, old man?" the orc growled as he jostled him under his arm.

"Ah—I don't—"

A small bead of white light flashed and beamed across the orc's shoulder. He shouted and released the old man, who stumbled onto his side. "Pefris!" the orc roared. "What'd you do that for?"

"What are you talking about?" Pefris turned on him and drew a dagger. "Did that look like something I use?"

"You're a ranger with all sorts of nasty tricks," the orc retorted. He stomped toward him, and the goblins drew straighter in attention. They snarled as Pefris glared up at the orc, and they lowered onto all fours, bits of body hair bristled like a pair of angry cats behind their human master.

"I told you to toss the old man into the sewage, Grekt," Pefris said.

"Since when did I take orders from you?" Grekt grabbed Pefris by the collar and raised him, bicep bulging into a meaty ball. The goblins jumped onto his back. Grekt shouted, catching himself before pitching forward. Pefris slashed his dagger at Grekt's face. It drew a deep crimson line along his neck. Grekt roared and threw Pefris into the ground.

Asinis snuck a little closer and then, with them in a raging pile, cast the net he'd used to throw off the guards when he and Feri were on the run. The lot shouted and tried to fight it off, but they couldn't break through the arcane ropes. Asinis dashed forward, his lungs aching in his desperate sprint. He pulled the sack of food free of the tangle. Pefris saw him first and snarled. Asinis shuddered and then shoved them into the channel. It shouldn't have happened with his puny strength, but they were already precariously balanced on the floor edge, and the slight tilt of Grekt's weight sent them over. They shouted, anger spilling from their lips as the water dragged them away like a giant fishing bobber. Some people spared them a glance, a few gathered to laugh, but no one helped. Asinis, bag in hand, shuffled to the old man frozen on his side. He squat in front of him and cleared his throat. The old man startled, one hand on his stick as if he meant to use it to defend himself.