Tanax pushed his way through the bushes behind her, swearing as they tangled in the straps of his pack. Varo slipped out after him, quiet as a ghost, and then Beq. The arcanist was even more heavily burdened than the rest of them, but she still moved lightly. Tanax was already scowling, pulling himself free of the bushes and brushing the leaves from his clothes. He turned in a slow circle, as though expecting to see an obvious direction to proceed. Nothing seemed to present itself, and he frowned.

“Scout-Trainee Varo,” he said. “Which way to Litnin?”

Varo checked the crystalline compass hanging from the straps of his pack and oriented himself. He made a chopping gesture.

“That’s north,” he said, “unless this thing has gone completely haywire.” His expression went thoughtful. “That happened to a friend of mine, in fact. He kept following that compass until he wandered into the ocean and the sharks got him.”

“You must not have very many friends left,” Maya said.

“It’s a lonely life, being a scout,” Varo deadpanned.

“Litnin is to the northeast, if I recall,” Tanax said, turning. “Follow me.”

“Ah …” Varo gestured at right angles to Tanax’s heading. “Perhaps we should descend to the flat ground near the river first. That would make for easier going.”

The look Tanax gave the scout could have frozen him on the spot. “Why don’t you lead the way, then?”

“Of course, Agathios.” Varo managed to catch Maya’s attention and raise an eyebrow, and Maya had to suppress a giggle. “If someone’s going to get eaten, it might as well be me.”

He hitched his pack up and pushed through the underbrush, moving with an ease that spoke of long practice. Beq, behind him, sounded like a vulpi pup tearing through a pile of autumn leaves. Tanax stalked after them, swatting irritably at branches in his path. Maya permitted herself a sigh before following.

Why, she thought, do I have a bad feeling about this?

Chapter 6

The Moorcat Merchant Combine was one of the wealthiest houses in the Republic, rivaling the most powerful nobles in its reach and power. Some said the Moorcats were richer than the Senate itself, while others confidently asserted they had bought the Senate long ago. Conspiracy theories aside, the reality of their influence was obvious enough. While most merchant houses had to make do with buildings in the West Central district, uncomfortably close to the stench of ordinary commerce, the Moorcats were permitted an expansive complex on the East Rim, within a stone’s throw of the Spike and surrounded by the sprawling mansions of Republic nobility.