Despite his unease, Saryth fell asleep quickly. The bed was soft, the room cosy, and he was tired. But he woke abruptly in the middle of the night to a deeper feeling than confusion at Kite’s actions, an awareness that someone else was around. Out of habit, he kept his eyes closed and his breathing steady, feigning sleep so as not to draw attention. For a long moment there was only the sound of Kite’s breathing, deep and even, from the opposite bed, and then he heard again the sound which must have woken him. The window grated as it was opened, the sash pushed up from - from outside? His guess was confirmed by the creak of the floorboards by the window as their uninvited guest eased themselves slowly to the floor. He tracked their footsteps on the rug, almost but not quite silent, until he judged the intruder to be level with the heads of the beds.

“Hey!”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He and Kite shouted and grabbed at the same time, one skinny wrist each, and the intruder jumped and twisted in their twin grip. Kite switched her grip and pulled the thief forwards. She jerked back reflexively and Saryth lost his hold on her other wrist, but by then Kite had done something and the thief collapsed just like the toy donkey. Kite caught her shoulders in an awkward attempt to stop her hitting the floor.

“Can you get the light?” she asked.

“Oh, sorry.” He’d been staring. The lamp was completely out and the matches weren’t where they had been before. He glanced around, couldn’t see them, but Kite was waiting, so he took a breath and clicked his fingers below the lamp, willing the spark to come to the oil-soaked wick.

“Show-off,” Kite said with amusement and he grinned in relief as the light flickered and swelled, chasing away the pale moonlight. The thief was revealed to be a skinny teen with red hair tied up in scruffy bunches, dressed in a worn outfit that seemed designed for acrobatics. She had come through a second floor window, so it clearly worked.

“Who is she?” he asked. “And what are we going to do with her?”

“She’s a member of whatever passes for a Thieves’ Guild around here,” Kite said. “And she’s going to take us somewhere. Get dressed.”

By the time the thief opened her eyes, both of them were dressed and ready. She came to with a start, and as Kite turned to her she flinched back, against the nearest bed.

“I, um...”

“What’s your name?” Kite asked, kneeling beside her.

“Jig.” She seemed to gain courage from the absence of an obvious threat. “What are you going to do with me?”

“Nothing very much.” Kite stood up and paced towards the window. “I want you to take us somewhere.”

“An’ if I won’t?”

Kite turned to look back at the thief, a smile lurking in the corners of her mouth. “Then I’ll tell the whole town how we caught you.” She sounded completely sincere. Does she mean it? Saryth couldn’t tell.

Jig looked aside with a scowl, but she caved in quickly. “Where?”

“The place where the merchant Zereel makes his floating fire gems.”

“All right.”

To Saryth’s relief, they went out through the inn’s back door rather than the window Jig had used to enter their room. That was the easiest part of the trip, however, for Jig’s preferred routes involved the rooftops. She led them from roof to roof, along planks, up and down staircases and occasionally along balconies. The moonlight silvered the town, and Saryth was alternately grateful for its illumination of the tiles and beams they clambered over and terrified someone could see them. Not that there was anyone visible in the streets below. Eventually Jig stopped by a chimney and beckoned them forwards.

“Sh,” she said. “Down there.” She pointed forwards to a familiar square, its paving now empty of stalls, vendors, crowds and performers.

“That’s his shop,” Kite said.

“Yes. That’s where he makes the gems.”

“So what does he do with them?” She sounded puzzled.

“They’re kept in the basement,” Jig said. “But it’s locked, and I’m not picking it for you.”

“That won’t be necessary. Will you stand guard?”

Jig gave Kite a long, suspicious stare.

“I suppose,” she said eventually.

Getting down from this rooftop involved a scramble and a drop into a narrow alley. Jig stayed in the alley, leaning her back against the wall.

“I’ll wait here.”

“Thank you. Come on, Saryth.”

He gathered his nerve and followed her to a low door in the side of Master Zereel’s shop. She fumbled in one of her pouches.

“Are you going to use magic?” he asked.

“No.” She held up a thin bit of wire with a smile. “I’m going to pick it.” I should have known that. Watching her work, though, it seemed like magic. Just a few minutes’ fiddling with her wire and the door swung open.

“Not a very good lock,” Kite said with satisfaction, and pulled the door to behind them.

Dim light flickered from lamps along the wall, casting enough light for them to walk along the cluttered corridor without crashing into the crates and boxes piled at the sides. Ahead of them steps led up into what must be the shop. Kite stopped at the only other door and opened it to reveal a storeroom, piled high with crates and chests. She frowned.

“Not what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?” It looked about right for a merchant’s place, although it was odd that a storeroom should have curtains on the wall.

“Some kind of chemical apparatus.” She went to the back of the room and pushed aside the curtain to reveal another door, this one with bolts on the outside. “Ah, maybe here.”

The door opened onto a large and well-appointed chamber, with books on shelves taking up one entire wall and a large writing desk covered in papers occupying another. In the far corner was a bed, also covered in papers, and a woman stood by the bed leafing through a book. She looked up as the door opened, and Saryth felt his breath stop. She was older than him, but not by much, yet her hair was pure white, untouched by any grey.

“Can I help you?”