The night was rainy, wild, and dark. Shana tilted her head to the sky as she stepped out of the tap house and let the hard, icy drops hit her flushed face. She had imbibed enough hard, spiced cider to set her cheeks aflame and her bloodstream humming. 

“Wait up,” called her brother, Delorian. He weaved toward the door, managed to knock into the doorpost, and then stumbled down the steps. Shana grabbed at his sweaty form to keep him from ending up in the mud but overestimated her own balance. For a moment they wobbled, Delorian’s right arm flapping as though he were a bird trying to gain flight. 

“Damn girl, almost knocked me over,” he muttered as they straightened. “Got to learn to hold your brew. Can’t do it for you.” 

“Sorry,” Shana replied, a goofy smile playing on her lips. She shivered as the cold water slipped down her face and ticked the hot back of her neck, but her insides, and her mood, felt like it was wrapped in a bubble of warmth. 

“Where to next?” Delorian’s wife was likely waiting up for him. A thin, too young thing whose presence unsettled Shana. The house had felt different since she had moved in. 

Delorian licked his lips. Shana could see the thoughts drifting behind his eyes. “Cutter’s place,” he finally replied.

The air in the alienage was cool and clear as they walked. Usually, it carried an oily heaviness that lingered at the back of Shana’s tongue, but the spring rain had chased it away. She sucked in a deep breath, and her boots sunk into the muddy, unpaved road. They headed northwards to the wall that separated the alienage from the human districts of Genitivim. Almost no one was out, and scant light came from the houses they passed. Few few in the alienage had the wealth for candle and oil lamps. The houses were tall and usually held several families, topmost rooms taken by the most senior or well-to-do family. A bizarre practice in Shana’s mind, for the dwellings were made of wood and a fire could rip through an entire block, leaving those on the top floor to leap to their death. 

Cutter’s place leaned against the wall itself. He lived there with his parents and two sisters. The front entrance lead Shana and Delorian into a kitchen where heat emanated from a low, black stove. Stiff, woolen blankets stained with soot lined the walls to keep out the cool while slightly thicker rugs covered the wooden floor. It smelled like grilled meat, and years of wood smoke, cooking scents, and elven sweat had soaked into the woodwork. It was much like her own house, and Shana felt relaxed as she slipped her muddy boots off and sank to the floor near Tanni, Cutter’s sister. 

Delorian shuffled to the other room where Cutter appeared to be engaged in a card game with friends. They met him with boisterous greetings, drinks of their own near their elbows.  Shana knew Corinth, an apprentice smith, and Lara, part of the illicit alienage milita. Strapped to Lara’s back was a long, thin blade. If she were caught with it, the human guards would likely lash her and cut off her sword hand.  

The thought disturbed Shana’s well-being, so she pushed it from her head. Tanni was knitting. Shana’s ears were sensitive enough that when she closed her eyes and laid back, she could catch the steady rustle of soft yarn over the boisterous conversation. 

Outside the storm picked up, but it no longer seemed inviting. The wind shook the thin walls and even near the warmth of the stove, a cool draft plucked at her. 

“Let her be,” came Tanni’s voice. Shana’s eyes blinked rapidly. Corinth and Shana’s brother stood nearby and there was something soft under her. She twisted her head. A bag of yarn? 

“Just lay back down,” Tanni said. In the faint light, her eyes shown, and her fingers continued to work with yarn and needle, nimble as ever. Shana realized she must have fallen asleep. Her cloak had wrapped around her and she struggled to loosen it and rise. Now, the card table stood clear, the flame of the single lamp that hung over it wane and dying, and Lara leaned against the doorway as she slipped her boots back on. 

“Should we go back into the storm?” Shana asked Delorian. Her dreams had been troubled. The wind and rain a great grey beast that chased them through the slick streets. 

“It’s over, sis. Clear night. Figured we’d take a stroll on the other side.” Her bother grinned, a hint of greed in his eyes. Ah – that was why Tanni wanted her to go back to sleep. 

Cutter wasn’t an honest elf, but he did well for himself. His house was built against the wall and under the floorboards was a tight, earthen passage to the other side. Shana considered herself honest, but her mother had appreciated the new pan Shana had brought her on her last ‘stroll’ and her current leather boots were much finer than those she could get in the alienage. 

“Just the night for a pleasant walk,” she said airily though her heart picked up in beat. Cutter handed out long, curved daggersin leather scabbards to those assembled. Shana knew the blades were mostly for show, but she felt s thrill as she slid the blade out an inch. The metal shone cold and silvery in her hand. 

“Please be careful,” Tanni said from the ground. Shana realized the young woman was addressing her and not Cutter. 

“Nothing to it,” Cutter replied as he tossed back a rug and opened the hidden trap door. “We’ll be out there for an hour or two and come back with a little bit to make our lives easier. Nothing to it at all.” 

His voice was brash and confident in the small house but as the trapdoor swung open, a cool draft slapped Shana’s in the faces and fragments of her dream rose up in her mind. Tanni still looked at Shana but she kept her mouth shut, instead grabbing her boots and putting them on. Cutter dropped down first, then Lara. Delorian next, then it was Shana’s turn. The tunnel itself was only four feet high with a foot of earth over head. She sat at the edge, legs dangling down then slid downwards into the darkness. Corinth followed. Tanni closed the trapdoor behind them and they were plunged into utter blackness that not even their keen elven eyes could pierce it. 

They began to shuffle forward, bodies bent. Shana kept her hands on the wall though it was damp and unpleasant feeling. A new pair of gloves would be nice. She could hear the breathing of the others around her and the scraping as they shuffled along the dirt and gravel path. Though she knew it was only a block, the trip always seemed to take an hour, and her neck began to ache. 

“Damn, I need to pee,” whispered Delorian. Corinth gave a low, growly chuckle behind her. 

“Shut up, Delorian,” Lara snapped. It went silent again until they reached the end. Cutter pushed the trapdoor open and they all scrambled out into an abandoned cellar. 

****

“You’ll pay for this. Retched elven thieves,” the human man snarled at Cutter. 

“Retched?” Cutter replied, “Now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings. Why would you want to do something like that?” 

Shana pressed her back against the wall and tried to blend in with tapestry. They’d meandered through the streets of Genitivim for fifteen minutes, leaving the poorer district beside the alienage behind as it was not worth their time. With the hood of their cloaks pulled up, they looked like a regular band of human miscreants prowling the misty night. The handful of humans walking about avoided them as they made sure to avoid the guard posts on their way to the wealthier merchants’ district. 

By human standards, this tailor’s shop and house would be modest, but to Shana it seemed fine. The wood was polished to a soft luster and the bolts of cloth in chests she’s picked open were thick and rich. There was a velvety emerald cloth with golden embroidery, and Shana imagined her mother would do well when she transformed it into dresses and men’s frocks. There was also a bolt of dark blue woolen material that could be fashioned into good work clothing for the cool and rainy days ahead. 

The tailor’s house was above his shop, and Delorian had snuck up there at some point while Shana worked at the lock. Corrinth stood watch for guards inside the doorway while Cutter had left Lara with Shana as he checked the store for any hidden panels the tailor might hide a lockbox in.  Things had been going well until there was a crash from above and Delorian stumbled down the stairs, blood coming from his forehead. 

Now a large, human man loomed before them, a cudgel in his meaty hands. 

“Thieving vermin!” the tailor bellowed, “Out of my shop!” His tone was belligerent and demanding; Shana thought it odd considering there was one of him and five of them. He didn’t seem to be making a show of it, but seemed to think they were no different than a flock of pidgins to be waved off. 

“Hold on friend,” Cutter said, still calm and friendly, “Let’s not be hasty. We’re only after a bit of your fine goods, not to rob you and yours to the bone. Cooperate – no need for hostilities.” 

Blood streamed down the side of Delorian’s face and dripped off his chin to stain the simple jacket he wore. He wobbled as he stood, but lifted his hand to reveal a silver necklace, a dark ruby with swans’ wings at its center. It looked as though he were offering it back to the man. Shana found herself holding back a sharp laugh at the scene, the tailor found it less amusing, however. His cheeks blazed red. 

“Stole my wife’s necklace right off her as she slept, did you? Think you’re clever? You’ll pay for that! The guards will know. I’ll see them rip that alienage of your apart before I let you get away with this!” 

As with a thunderclap, only deep silence followed his statement. They saw it in their mind’s-eye clearly, houses being torn apart in search of the guilty, the tunnel being discovered, and elves – them or someone they knew – hanging. All because of a stupid slip up. 

Lara stepped forward, sword whispering as it slid from her back, and neatly skewered the human man. The blade enter under the ribs and slid upwards into his thick body. He looked surprised as he died. 

A feminine shriek pierced the room from the upstairs, beyond Shana’s vision. Lara’s face hardened as she pulled the blade out then took the stairs two at a time. Delorian’s bloody face contorted into an express of confusion. His hand still lifted as if to offer the necklace back to the dead man. Shana went to him, her fingers brushing his dark hair as she tried to see how serious the wound was. 

“He’s fine,” Cutter said. A woman’s frightened babbling came from upstairs. “Don’t panic people. Shana, pull your brother to the tunnel. Corinth, don’t just stand there, help me with these bolts.” 

The babbling was cut short when the woman made a short, barking sound. The sound of something wet and meaty hitting the floorboards came from above their heads. Shana tasted bile at the back of her throat but only looped her arm into her brother’s, pulling him close. 

“Put his hood back up,” barked Cutter. “Everyone’s hoods stay up.” 

The group made it back into the cool night air. Delorian hung on Shana now, the necklace gripped tight in his hands. Cutter and Corinth carried the chest, they had tossed out many of the bolts for weight, and Shana found herself wondering if the emerald cloth had made it. Lara had sheathed her sword and held a small, square object under her arm. 

The tailor’s neighbors had woken and there were cries in the night. It was dark though and the five of them moved quickly. Delorian stumbled like a drunken man, heavy in her arms, and she cursed him every step of it. 

“Maker’s Breath,” Lara said from in front of her as they rounded the corner. Guards. A group of human guards stood between them and the entrance to the tunnel. 

“Relax,” Cutter said. 

“They’ve found us out!” Corinth replied, sounding very unrelaxed. 

“Shh, shush, not so loud. They’re not at the cellar. There’s no reason to think they’re here for us. Plenty of crime for everyone in this blighted city.” 

“What do we do?”

“If we wait too long,” Shana said, “Someone will spot us here and you two aren’t inconspicuous with the chest.” She glanced at Lara, “And you have blood on you. We can’t sneak by them either.” 

“I’ll lure them away,” mumbled Delorian. He was like a heavy sack in her arms. 

“Shut up,” Lara replied. 

“No, it’s a good idea,” Cutter said. “Get them to move off – “

“We could start a fire,” Lara offered. Shana winced. She wondered how hard it had been for the other woman to kill the tailor and his wife. Not much at all, she guessed. 

“No,” Shana found herself talking, “We could pretend there’s a fire. They’d run to it and, you know, we could slip by while they were gone, and then I could lose them in the alleyways. I’ve been here a few times before and can run quickly. Just lure them off and then lose them. Should be simple.” 

Corinth frowned then said, “I don’t like that, it’s too dangerous. Let’s drop the chest, hide, and slip out when they leave.” 

“Delorian needs to get to a healer,” Shana shook her head, “This won’t be hard and we can’t have come here for nothing. You and Cutter need to carry the chest and I’d be better at this than Lara.” 

“We’re agreed then,” Cutter said even as Corinth opened his mouth to object. Lara wrapped her arm around Delorian’s waist and Shana felt the blood return to her shoulder. 

“Come to me, you idiot,” Lara whispered. “You survive and I’ll put your ass in a sling.” Her brother groaned something Shana couldn’t understand in reply. 

The group shuffled further into the shadows while Shana stepped alone into the street. She swallowed hard. This would be easy, she told herself. A wisp of steam crossed her lips as she took a deep breath. Were her hands trembling? Oh, for a pair of gloves. 

Shana began to run forward to the group of human guards, heart galloping, every instinct telling her to run from them. They turned at the sound of her heavy footfalls. 

“Fire!” she shouted. “There’s a fire spreading through the buildings!” Hard, bearded faces in metal helmets turned toward her. ‘They can hardly see me,’ she said to herself, ‘Humans can hardly see at night.’ 

“Come quick, please!” she said, sliding to a halt just at the edge of their torchlight. “My house is burning. Maker! Please!” One of the human guards grabbed her arm. Shana forced herself to not flinch. 

“Where?” concern in his eyes. 

“Right around the block. Please help,” her voice cracked and she felt a tear slide down her cheek. The fear was real enough. “This way.” She moved, and they followed, her feet picking up speed. Soon they were at a steady jog. 

“This way!” she continued to call as she led them around the corner then skidded to a halt. “The one on the corner, right there.” Shana pointed. They rushed by her, clamoring towards a building where two lights flickered from windows. 

A strong hand rested on her shoulder. “Is anyone you know inside?” She met his eyes. Dark, eye lashes like a woman’s. Kindness in them. 

“My brother,” Shana said weakly. 

His mouth opened, and then he gave her a puzzled look. “Are you bleeding?” 

Shana glanced down. Where Delorian has leaned against her, a large blot of blood had soaked into her shoulder. “I..” she began. She could think of nothing. “I must have…” There must be some clever lie, but no words came. 

He continued to gaze at her and something clicked behind his eyes. Shana felt the hand on her shoulder tighten slightly. She was shaking now. He must have felt the trembling. The others would have figured out the building wasn’t burning by now. She was caught. 

Shana still had her knife. 
 
He seemed surprised when she stabbed him. So was she. It was a clumsy blow into his gut, but it sank into the hilt, covering her hand with warm blood. ‘I am an idiot,’ Shana noted. If Cutter was here, he’d tell her not to panic, and then explain what to do. But he wasn’t here and she was terrified. 

The human guard stumbled back, hands clutched to his belly. The knife still jutted from him. Shana watched him dumbly. What else would she do? 

Run, she could run. And that’s what she did. Her feet flew over the paved road. Unthinking. Her knowledge of the streets and buildings gone from her head. The city was a grey, angry beast and she ran through its veins, lost to reason.