A creature sat in the cage, dog-sized, yet in muzzle, the shape of its ears, and its curling tail it looked more like an enormous cat. Over its black fur lay a velvet cloak, and a metal collar had been sealed shut around its neck.

  “Is this a verid?” the thief thought, staring into those large blue eyes, and all became clear to him.

  “Black Sapphire”—the realization came like a peal of thunder. Sedrik let out a heavy breath and covered his face. “Guy… he knew everything…” Within him there was neither spite, nor anger, nor the old euphoria—only emptiness, the hush after a storm. “Seems the Twins have decided to have their jest at my expense.”

  Of course, he might have gone on searching. Perhaps there was a hidden cache nearby with that very great black stone—but it was all too plain.

  The creature, for its part, did not snarl or lunge. Its gaze was more curious than wicked or afraid. It slipped a paw between the bars toward the table, where, in the moonlight, a mother-of-pearl–inlaid goblet gleamed with a silvery sheen.

  — Nanse, aze, it shines… — it said in a woman’s voice. — Give… want… aze…

  Sed froze, thinking he must have misheard. But no—the cat repeated it again and again, like a child, which she seemed indeed to be.

  “Likely there are verids on the southern continent as well. So the ferraran’s found a cub there and sold it here.”

  Deciding not to waste time, he went to the other trophies, sweeping up what was most valuable and most compact. Now and then the thief glanced at the cat—she pressed harder against the cage, still reaching for the treasures. The sight roused distant memories.

  — Aze! Aze! — she repeated, louder and louder.

  After stuffing necklaces into his sack, Sed spotted a key and turned, a golden signet ring in his hand.

  — Want it?

  — Aze! Nanse aze! Want! Want!

  — A predator’s words—and the look, too.

  He set the ring on the floor, and while the cat watched it greedily, he took the key and opened the lock. The moment the door cracked ajar, she slipped out and, snatching the ring, purred in satisfaction.

  — A predator has no place in a cage, — said Sedrik. — The rest is as you please.

  Suddenly the door flew open with a crash, striking the wall. On the threshold stood Ettiere, breathing hard, a crowd of guards behind his back.

  — SEIZE HIM! — he shouted.

  Time clenched into a narrow slit between heartbeats. The armed crowd surged forward.

  Sed flung a smoke bomb at the guards’ feet, spun in the same instant, and, smashing through the window with a crash, burst into the night. The frightened cat, seeing the huge shining moon, leapt after him.

  In midair the thief drew himself tight. Landing, he rolled over one shoulder and, springing to his feet, dashed for the wall.

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  “Sapphire” landed beside him. She paused for a heartbeat, lifting her muzzle to the sky, but at the sound of a dog’s growl she cried out and raced after Sed.

  They tore through the garden. From the smoke-choked window behind came a hail of curses, and from every side rose furious barking.

  Sed wove between the alleys, ducked under arches, vaulted low stone curbs. The cat ran alongside, clearing obstacles so deftly it seemed she passed straight through them.

  The growling came clearer and clearer. Dogs and ridans were closing in from all sides; their shadows were already taking shape along the flanks.

  Without breaking stride, the thief tore a canvas sachet from his belt with one hand, ripped it open, and hurled it behind him.

  The freed stench struck the predators in the nostrils. They halted, began to wheel in place, and howled with pain.

  Feeling a breath of wind at his back, Sedrik glanced behind him for the first time. Winged silhouettes drifted in the sky.

  One of the gargoyles swooped low, thrusting out its paws to snatch the cat, but she managed to duck and slip straight beneath the creature’s belly. The gargoyle crashed into the thickets, flailing its limbs, yet “Sapphire” was already far off—growling, fur bristled, she sped away.

  Sed, too, managed to dodge. Knowing they would not leave him be, he grabbed his hook, and at the next swoop he sprang up, driving steel under the gargoyle’s wing in midair and wrenching down with all his strength. The beast lurched sideways and slammed into the ground.

  The thief did not stop. The wall was close now, but he felt a jerk that seized his shoulder. Sharp claws sank into his bag. The creature beat its wings, lifting into the air both its prey and the man with it.

  For an instant Sed hung there, clinging to the strap and hearing the plunder inside ring and clink.

  There was no choice.

  With a couple of shoulder movements, he slipped the bag off; seized by the gargoyle, it shot upward, spilling its contents. Rings, chains, stones—everything rained down into the bushes.

  Freed of resistance, the gargoyle rocked in the air. Sed plunged into the thickets, clawed his way out, and ran at full tilt for the wall. Reaching it, he leapt up half its height, pushed off the stone with his foot, and, as though weightless, ran along the wall and vaulted to the other side.

  To stay on the surface was dangerous. Soon the guard would begin to search every inch of the surrounding ground.

  The quiet streets woke. Patrols darted along the roads; locals peered out of windows.

  “Fire?” “A battle? Where?” “Something’s happening at Louazier’s estate!” “I heard screams!”

  Cutting his way through courtyards, over rooftops and down alleys, Sedrik cleared several blocks, dodging patrols. Rage and disappointment tore at him from within. Following what he had been taught, he tried to block out needless irritants—but there were too many: Guy, Roche, “Black Sapphire,” the loss of his loot. Taken together, it all felt like the Twins’ mockery.

  When Mirchelle lay behind him, he turned toward the bank, into a growing roar. Ahead, an old watermill loomed black. Its wheel turned heavily, churning the dark water.

  Without slowing, Sed slipped into the space between the massive piles, breathing in the stink of wet timber and silt. Deep within, where the shadow was thickest, stood a boat under a tarpaulin, tied to a concealed ring in a beam.

  — What a pest you are, — he muttered, turning to the cat padding alongside him.

  — Nsaa! Nsaa! — At the sight of water, “Sapphire’s” fur stood on end; each new step came harder than the last.

  All the way he had paid her no mind, thinking she would fall behind or be distracted. But no—driven by the instinct to survive, she chose the safest course for herself, and the most aggravating for Sedrik.

  — You run well enough; now stop running after me.

  He untied the rope, stepped into the boat, and pushed off the wet log. The boat slid out from under the mill’s overhanging floor and into the swift current. On the bank the cat fidgeted in place, shifting from paw to paw. The boat had nearly drifted beyond reach. “Sapphire” set herself on all fours, gathered speed, and sprang so high it was as though she took wing. Hanging in the air for a moment, she fell and landed on the wooden bottom, straightening and going still. The boat rocked slightly. Weary Sedrik watched it with no little interest, sighed, and set his weight to the oars.