The garden once sat as the prized landscaping of an elden Jiy family—or so the plaque at the entrance said. Lapis had read in a dated history that they had conducted tours through the hedges, proudly displaying blooms from the eastern Pelthine mainland. It now contained more overgrown areas than neatly trimmed ones, but it still presented a peaceful place for Grey Streets residents to woo each other and have picnics with their families.

It also provided an opportunity for young children to play in a wind-kissed, shady place.

The hassle of getting kids to a bathroom while herding the rest through the brambles and underbrush nearly drove her mad. The younger lot wanted to run to the better-kept parts, and they giggled and laughed, the fear of the dark and musty places momentarily forgotten. She heard a few complain about hunger, but she had nothing to give them, and no time to stop for a bite to eat. Lyet handed out more candy, but that did not fill empty tummies even if the sweets delighted young tongues.

They reached the overgrown back gate without losing a child. Someone had put building materials against it, effectively blocking it from opening. She understood that gardeners had wanted a storage place out of view of visitors, but that did not help her situation. The lot of them stood noisily about while she and Brone attempted to move the stacked, weighty boxes and crates, and failed.

What did they have in there? Rocks?

She looked at the wall; it rose far above head height, with brambles and twigs and chunks missing that might provide handholds, but she did not think the youngest could climb over. Maybe if she, Brone and Lyet carried them on their backs, and climbed up and over?

Piercing laughter grabbed her attention, and she whirled, tamping down on reactionary fury.

“I know it’s tough, but you have to be QUIET, do you understand?”

“Yes,” came the scattering of resentful replies. Well, at least they were not whining. Food and boredom would be the slightest of the children’s problems if the palace soldiers happened upon them. She knew their ruthlessness when they anticipated a slaughter. She had no illusions about their survival if they fell into Gall’s hands.

“Is there another way to go?” Lyet asked, eyeing the unexpected blockage.

“Not unless we split up here,” she responded. “We can’t bring this large of a group into the garden. Lots of people will see, and if they’re questioned about suspicious activity, they might talk about that.”

“No,” Vivina immediately snapped.

“We may not have a choice. These crates are really heavy, and the only other possibility is to piggy-back the kids up and over the wall. I’m not sure how safe that’s going to be.”

“We can split them up,” Brone agreed. “But where are we going to meet up?”

“Top of the Shank.”

His eyes widened. “The Shank?” he blurted.

Lyet gaped at her as Vivina’s horror brought a coldness to her chest.

“It’s the last place one would think to look for children,” she said softly. “Mibi won’t know we are there, and the noise from below will drown out any they produce.”

“If you say so.” Brone’s skepticism reflected her own.

“You have any other suggestions?”

The rats regarded her mournfully.

“On the west side is a three-story addition with a wide, flat roof and chimneys. A ladder leads to the top. Some . . . interesting business takes place there. Tonight, we’re going to be that business. We’re going to have to bribe the guard Mibi has, but—”

Rinan appeared from nowhere, likely waiting his chance to scare the life out of her charges. A couple of the children squealed, and she thought she heard Vivina’s begin to weep. One little girl stared up at him, turned, and ran.

Ran.

She raced through the overgrowth and towards the garden.

Lyet snagged two others back, who tried to follow. Lapis smacked a startled Rin on the shoulder as she tore past him, intent on the fleeing child. The three-year-old darted through three overgrown pathways and to a wide stretch of flower beds and grass before she caught up to her. She giggled and hopped about, grabbing the brighter blooms, until Lapis snagged her arm. Then she shrieked, as if she had just caught her brother throwing away her favorite toy. She howled and hit and kicked and sat down hard enough on the soft soil to produce a hiccup. She cried, waving hands and feet and worming her body back and forth. While tiny, she struck brutally. All eyes in the vicinity gyrated to them, and too many women with knowing smirks watched as the girl screamed.

“Cady,” Lapis pleaded. She screamed louder and kicked harder.

She had no idea what to do, other than pick her up and cart her away as she flailed about, which would bring attention to the area where the others hid. She stood up, put her hands on her hips, mind whirling, and looked at the families.

The mothers were not the only people interested in Cady’s tantrum. Three men in Dentherion uniforms watched, more disgusted than amused, and glanced at the overgrown way behind her. She sucked in a breath. They had already reached the garden? How intently did the soldiers search, to have made it that far from the House? Or did ill-luck bring them there?

She looked around, as if trying to find an out-of-the-way sanctum for Cady to wail in peace, her jumbled thoughts smashing into one another. She had to keep the enemy away from the other kids, and if they disliked a crying child, that might trick them into leaving without searching. Focusing on the tangle of overgrowth, she picked up the girl, suffered hits and kicks and ear-splitting shrieks, and marched, with purpose, to the unkempt bushes.

Cady squirmed about and she lost her grip. She turned to snag her shirt, granting her an opportunity to view the enemy. The Dentherions lifted lips and wobbled their heads about but did not look as if they planned to vacate the gardens.

What to do?

The soldiers split up, taking different pathways. Grey Streets residents shied away from them, and several headed for the exit, unwilling to be caught in whatever nastiness they planned. The men ignored them as they looked behind hedges, short walls, frowned in every direction, and disappeared down bush-lined walkways.

She settled Cady behind a jut of collapsed gazebo wall. They were going to reach the overgrowth eventually. Did they know they searched for children? She needed to split them up and have the rats whisk them away. She peeked out from behind the crumbling stone, and her tummy fell; a fourth Dentherion, stiff, resolute, his nostrils flared wide above a deep frown, stalked towards her.

Why?

“You.”

Her?

Cady shrieked, and the man winced. Lapis grabbed her and hugged her close as she continued to wail. He stepped behind the wall and tensed, a feat for a man already rigid with unease. He suspiciously scanned the tall, tangled hedges and steadfastly refused to look at her.

“Have you been here all day?”

“No.”

“When did you get here?”

“A little bit ago. I’ve spent the time chasing Cady and, well, she didn’t want to be caught.”

“Anyone here you don’t know?”

“Probably everyone. I’m babysitting, and the only time I come here is when I have a little one in tow.” Cady yanked her hair, and she took an unwilling step back to keep her balance. How long could a kid keep crying? She had experience with upset rats, but most, having experienced abuse in one way or another, never cried long. They expected retaliation for expressing their pain.

“Just stay out of my way.”

His voice throbbed with deep menace. Cady screamed louder. He focused on the little girl, and Lapis turned in time to take the strike on her free shoulder. A sharp pulse of hurt raced from the impact and down her side. He meant to do damage, the fuck.

“Don’t you dare hit her,” she whispered, rage consuming her. She did not care if he wore a Dentherion uniform, she refused to let him touch her distraught bundle of not-joy.

“Shut her up,” he commanded as he stormed past, darkness glinting through his grey eyes at her defiance.

She heard a townbird warble—the street rats. It sounded distant—too distant to have originated from behind the hedges. She ran after him as he expectantly hustled to the thin break in the bushes and shoved himself through. She held out her hand, ready to trigger her blade. Stabbing an empire soldier while holding a small child . . .

He had already gone through the second row, she raced to the third—and she heard Rin’s testy voice bark through the air. Damn rat. She made noise bursting through, and the soldier turned, drawing his tech weapon. She set Cady on the ground before triggering her gauntlet. His eyes widened at the act, and a sick thunk echoed off the stone wall. His eyes rolled up, and he dropped, his tech skittering across the torn earth. Lapis kicked it into the hedges, where it clattered and stuck.

Rin tossed the large rock up and down in one hand, regarding the soldier with a snarl, then a wince as the motion distressed the rapidly purpling bruise on his cheek. Bren sat on top of a crate they had moved to the ground, making a tall but workable stair to the top of the gate. No one else remained with them.

Lapis put her finger to her lips, sheathed her blade and snagged Cady, who had quieted to crying and whimpering. “Bring the rock,” she whispered. “We might need it.”

“What we’s gonna do ‘bout him?” Rin asked.

She focused on the unconscious soldier. His buddies would assume someone attacked him, maybe even her, if they discovered him like this. “We’ll dump the crate on him.”

“Lady!” Rin’s eyebrows shot far past his bangs. He knew she acted when opportunities arose, though, perhaps, he expected her kindness to shine through rather than her practicality. Bren crawled to the top of the gate, Rin helped him down the other side, then aided her with the rock-filled crate. They planted their feet on the edge and pushed, hard; the wood creaked in protest but tipped over. Rocks rolled out, bouncing off the unconscious man and tumbling to the side. Hopefully he remembered nothing and that, when found, the other soldiers decided he had tried to climb the crates and failed. She slipped over the top and jumped to the ground, disturbing the little girl. She produced a single wail and subsided. Rin landed next to her, and with Bren, they raced away from the garden.

“They’s headin’ t’ the Cracked Alley though the back ways, Lady,” Rin told her in an undertone as they ran. “And Bren here, he’s got somethin’ important t’ tell you.”

“My uncle’s one of Mibi’s guards,” he blurted. “I think he’s working the outside today.”

Oh.

“He thought he’d talk to ‘m, afore the others show up.”

“Good idea.”

“I’s gonna go ‘n get help, t’ get the kids split up. Iffen you want, you c’n take Bren t’ the Shank straight ‘way.”

“How were they doing?”

“Kids ‘r fine. Vivina, she ain’t. Pretty pissed, we rats ‘r helpin’ ‘n all.”

“Rin, how many rats know?”

“All the readin’ circle, Lykas, Jandra, the like. Ones you trust.”

“OK. Get help. Then go to Cracked Alley and get the babies. Take them to the Eaves. Dalia has children of her own. She knows how to care for them. If you don’t use the rock, make certain to hide it. Dentherions are notorious for finding evidence like that and using it against their victims.”

“Aye, Lady.”

“Get food.”

“Aye, Lady.” He grinned, wide and mischievous, and streaked away. Bren huffled at her side, and she slowed; he rubbed at his chest, annoyed.

“How fast does he run?” he asked.

“He’s a pickpocket, so he trains to make certain he can outrun his marks and the guard.”

“He picks pockets?” Bren’s surprise confused her. “But . . . he’s so nice!”

“Yeah, he is,” she agreed. “Rats have to make a living somehow. Not all of them pick, though. Brone drums.”

“He’s good. My mama says he’s good.”

“He is. Lyet helps Phialla and Ness sell their pottery.”

“Lapis, they said you’re Lady Lanth.”

“I am.”

That meant something to him, but she did not know what, and he did not elaborate.

They fled through the back alleys, avoiding puddles that stank of human waste and old alcohol, piles of unidentifiable trash, and other odds and ends that smelled less than wholesome. Guttershanks sat against the walls, wrapped in grummy blankets, staring sightlessly before them, hopeless. A few in the deep stages of drug-induced hallucination cried out, their voices bouncing off the stones of the buildings, disjointed, agonized. She hated the poverty that drove them there, she hated that the rebel kids had to see the shameful reality for too many, she hated that any one of the downtrodden might rat on them for a bottle of beer or a spoonful of dargil.

At least Cady had fallen asleep, and the jostling of running did not wake her.

The Shank soared above the surrounding buildings, dirty, dilapidated, patches slapped onto crumbling brown brick to keep the place standing. Few windows marred the outer wall; for the entertainments that happened inside, they were not necessary. Those whose tastes ran to the strange and wild patronized the place, and Mibi made a pretty silver off them, though she wondered how much of that he might keep if the building ever fell onto the heads of his guests. She hated searching for stakes inside; too smoky, too grungy, too dim, too seeped in dank despair.

Knowing Bren’s parents, she had a difficult time believing he had an uncle working for Mibi. Both, while they had rebel leanings, strictly adhered to every other law and moral presented as respectable. They attended religious ceremonies and, from what she gathered, raised Bren to venerate the same.

She suspected Bren had more of a rebellious streak than his parents wished. An uncle’s influence, perhaps?

She snagged his shirt and kept him from entering the square. She leaned against the edge of the alley and scanned Wrane Plaza, looking for the black uniforms of the Dentherion soldiers and the brown and marron ones the palace guard wore. Bren stayed close to her side, distrustful, serious.

Grey Streets residents crowded the stalls, searching for their nightly meal. The numbers provided cover, and many walked near the Shank, so hiding among them then slipping into the western alley should be a straightforward endeavor. She situated Cady on her shoulder, winced as it throbbed, and patted Bren on the back.

How much damage had the soldier wanted to do, to a poor, teeny little girl? If she ached this much, she could not comprehend what Cady would have suffered.

They stepped into the setting sunlight. Tiny, cracked tiles paved the place, the color in good shape despite the years. They created a mosaic of the ancient god Omerdewrane, a wrathful and vengeful deity tamed by the loving, naive hand of Chewraineve, who convinced him to create rather than destroy. It seemed a shame that the religious shrine to which it belonged had given way to a decadent, dark house of ill repute, but the glowing face seeped in rage that hundreds of oblivious feet trod upon daily no longer held the reverence and esteem of the populace. Why would it? Omerdewrane oversaw the destruction of Jiy under Dentheria’s boot and lifted no hand to help those who worshipped him.

Bren stuck to her side as they wove through the crowds, one hand tightly clasping the edge of her shirt. She had no idea how many areas of the Grey Streets his parents let him visit, but she doubted they allowed him anywhere near the Shank. The plaza catered to rougher individuals and poorer families, and the reputations of the businesses in the area bordered on underground.

She looked for her reading circle rats but did not see them. Heran and Nilas toured the stalls, and she cursed the luck that brought them to the square while she needed to rush children to safety through it. She did not trust them, especially not to squeal to authorities about her with stranger children.

The western alley contained thick mud but no trash or any container except for a large garbage receptacle. Across from the ladder leading to the third-story roof leaned a man wearing tight pants, a dusty white shirt and a blue vest. He stared idly in front of him, arms and legs crossed.

“Uncle Natt!”

Bren dropped her shirt and raced to the man. He jerked up, and Lapis had rarely witnessed anyone so flabbergasted, other than Dachs. The kid barreled into him, knocking him back into the wall. He automatically wrapped an arm about him, then stared at her, extremely confused.

The lad babbled at him as she walked to them; the man’s gaze flicked to the sleeping girl.

“How much do you know about Bren’s parents’ work?” she asked carefully. The boy may love his uncle, but that hardly indicated trustworthiness.

“Sherridan got me this job.”

Ah.

“There was a raid.”

He popped back up from the wall, concerned. Bren tugged at his hand.

“Lapis saved us,” he said. “But the people who were supposed to help us escape didn’t come. She has all of us kids, and we need a place to hide.”

“The Dentherions know someone escaped, and they may know they’re children,” she told him. “They’ve tracked us the entire way. I think we lost them at the Stone Gardens, but I can’t chance a large group traveling together right now. It’s a long walk to the safehouse, and they’re not going to make it tonight anyway.”

“Shank usually hears about raids,” he told her, disturbed. “We heard nothing.”

So what Scand overheard was correct; the Dentherions initiated the raid, and the palace guard resented the interference. “Is anyone using the roof?”

“No. It’s free for a couple of nights. You’re planning to use it?”

“At least until I can figure out what to do. We’re going to have to split up, and I’m not certain how to accomplish that yet.”

“Does anyone from the House know you have the kids?”

She shook her head. “No. And I haven’t seen anyone in the crowds, either.”

He put a hand to his head and hugged his nephew closer. “Your parents are going to miss you, Bren. I’ll see about sending them word.”

“Yeah, they’re going to miss me,” he agreed.

“That would be great.” A word to them should get more than one rebel to the Shank to help secret the kids away.

“Should be safe enough up top.”

“Rats are going to bring the others,” she told him. “They’re from Lady Lanth’s reading circle.”

“I’ll send them up.” He patted Bren’s back, then jerked his chin at the ladder. “Go on. You need to get that little one settled.”

“Yeah. Cady cried and screamed a lot,” he said heavily. “I think everyone in the garden heard her. She’s probably worn out.”

Lapis adjusted her sleeping bundle and walked to the ladder. She knew Sherridan had contacts throughout Jiy, and placing a rebel as one of Mibi’s guards did not surprise her. The Shank swam in gossip and information, and a guard who stayed in the background and listened could hear all that valuable stuff. If he had no connection to Bren, she never would have believed it, but his concern for his nephew was genuine.

She grasped a rung and winced in pain. Damn Dentherions, for injuring her and placing the children and Patch in danger. If the opportunity to return their violence reared its head, she would snatch it.