Chapter Six Hundred And Seventy Eight – 678

Chapter Six Hundred And Seventy Eight – 678

"What?" Atar spun just in time to catch the heel of a boot slipping out of the first-story window. "Isla! There!"

He flared his Agility, but it wasnt enough. By the time he reached the sill, the figure was already gone.

"Youll not run from me," Isla hissed. Come, child!

She took off, green-gold magic crackling around her Body as she blurred through the front door. Atar chased after her, snarling internally. "Flame! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Flame said nothing. He merely burned.

"Gah!" Atar burst through the doors, leaping the last ten feet over the small porch to land awkwardly in the street.

Isla was already speeding around the buildingAtar followed. Isla was peering at the ground and Atar saw it too: footprints. They chased them down, all the way to the end of the alley and onto the main thoroughfare just beyond.

Burning ashes, Atar cursed as soon as they saw the road. The sigaldry he and his people had carved into the streets had melted all the snow. There were no more footprints, and the midmorning streets were packed with people. I cant tell which one is our intruder. Where

Quiet, Isla demanded. Her eyes were closed as a swell of Harmonics surged around her. Atar shuddered. The sound was palpable so close, as if a concerto were playing beneath his skin. Her eyes snapped open, fixated on a distant point. Follow.

Do you have a tracking Skill? he asked as they worked their way through the crowd.

I do not, but I have often been forced to find lost things in my duties. She held up a piece of high steel, the one stamped with Anguins makers mark. And it seems our thief has more of Anguins work with him.

Atar was impressed. He'd never heard of such a Skill, let alone one that wasn't really a Skill. More like a technique, perhaps. The Grand Harmony confused Atar at the best of times, and he didn't bother questioning it. "Lead the way.

They followed cautiously through the crowd, moving fast but not running. The thief was somewhere close, Isla had said, and they didnt want to spook him. Around them, the mid-morning shoppers were loudraucous even in some cases. A few late-night revelers had continued their binge into the morning, carrying now-empty mugs of ale as they stumbled through the city streets. Others were hawking their wares from the front of shops, loudly proclaiming a list of goods and services each well-kept storefront had to offer. There were no stalls in this portion of the Scale, but there were always people, usually younger ones, situated outside of the shops to draw crowds in. Between the laughter, the loud conversation, and the rambunctious sales pitches, Atar had trouble concentrating.

Where was the thief?

This is where he stood, Isla said, stopping in the center of the street. People cursed and split around her, but she paid them little heed.

Atar craned his neck around people. He wasnt particularly short, but a number of them were annoyingly tall. I dont see the bastard.

Hold a moment, she said, and she repeated the harmonic technique. The music unfurled and Isla swiveled, pointing down another street, this one with considerably thinner crowds.

"There," she said.

Following her finger, Atar spotted a larger man with a silk scarf wrapped around his head and a bulging leather bag slung over his shoulder. He moved with a furtive speed, head down beneath a wide-brimmed hat as he turned quickly into another alley.

Without speaking, the two of them flared their Agility, hustling to catch up. Isla slipped through the crowd like oil on water, but Atar, surprisingly, was faster. His insides burned with annoyanceat himself and Flame withinand perhaps that is what fueled his normally aching Body. Atar reached the alleyway, skidding over a puddle before cursing. All that laid before him was a thirty-span stone wall stretched between two shops.

"What?" Atar looked up. "Did he jump over?"

Before he could make a decision, Isla sped past him. She didnt stop even as she hit the stone wall. Instead, she set her boots firmly onto the rough stoneand ran directly up its surface.

Atar gaped. Burning ashes.

impressive.

With nonchalant adroitness, the Chanter landed atop the wall and stared into the distance. Once again, Atar heard that harmonic thrum from herbefore she hopped back down.

Teine turned and hobbled down a short hallway toward an open door that many of his people had filed through. Goodbye, dullard.

"How will I find you in the future?" Dabney called after him.

Teine didn't pause. "I'll find you," he said, and was gone.

Dabney stood in the now-empty safehouse and pondered. Teine never explained anything and treated him like dirt; it was as if hed never left the Protectors Guild. Dabney scrubbed his face with a wide hand. He didn't like the way he was being treated here, but what choice did he have? Lillian wanted this, so here he was; tired and scared, but driven, just like her. Only, Lillian was driven by anger and he wasn't. Dabney just... he just wanted her to be happy.

The burly young man shouldered his empty leather bag and slipped through the nearest exit. He'd do anything to make Lillian happy.

Even take down an Autarch.

I cannot believe you hid the intruder from me, Atar sent into his core.

For the first time in nearly half a glass, Flame answered. if I was not caged, this would not have happened.

Atar fumed, unable to rebut for a second. The mini-Urge was both right and infuriating. If you did not tamper with my emotions and Mind, then you wouldn't be caged!

i will not be made less. you will not be made less, either.

Atar furrowed his brow. "What are you

Isla tapped him on the shoulder. "There, I see him." She pointed further down the road from where they were hidden in an alcove between shops. A large man was walking down the road, his boots scuffing along the sleek surface, and an empty leather satchel hung over his shoulder.

Atar recognized the scarf, that oddly silky one he had wrapped around his face. It was patterned with a jagged design that he was remarkably familiar with. Houndsfoot, it was called, a fabric popular with the nobility. Or it was, two seasons ago. "So he's either noble, or he robbed a noble. An out-of-fashion one, at that."

Isla hummed to herself before wincing. I still cannot Analyze him; even attempting it pains me. He must be carrying a veiling enchantment. For it to be strong enough to block a Master Tier, this man must have real backing.

Blind gods, who would back people setting off explosions in populated areas?

Someone with a goal, Isla said darkly. It appears that he dropped off the medal he stole in that building. I saw no one leave from my vantage point. Did you?

Atar shook his head. "No.

Isla resounded with that harmonic pulse, her special technique again. "The steel is warded now. I cannot find it. Blast. I will follow our thief. See where he goes. You must stay here and watch this place. I need to know if anyone comes back or exits.

Atar groaned internally, but nodded. Alright. And how long must I sit in the blasted cold?

The Chanter drew herself up to her full unimpressive height and somehow looked down at Atar despite being a half span shorter. As long as it takes.

She marched away, cloak drawn close until she seemed a frail, gray old woman. Impressive illusion. Atar chewed his lip. Why must unlikable people be so competent?

power draws those that seek the peak. those that rise do not care for those that fall behind.

That is sometimes true, but... Atar thought of Felix, Vess, and even that blundering fool Beefhammer. They were all powerful, and each was annoyingly kind. It does not have to be.

Flame did not answer. He simply burned.

Atar settled in, his eyes fixed on the building less than a block away as a few people passed by on errands. It was bitterly cold despite his cloak, and he rubbed his hands vigorously. He briefly considered conjuring a fire to warm himself, but it would draw too much attention. Instead he hunkered down out of the intermittent wind and waited.

Alister is probably enjoying a fine meal beneath sunny skies right now, he thought, a touch wistful. I certainly hope so. Anything would be better than this.