“You guys are the lost ones, heading east. There’s nothing east of West Tower.”

“That’s what I thought once too. Couldn’t be more wrong.” He stands and passes me the feeding pot. I accept it through the bars of the cage. I know I shouldn’t trust him, but curiosity gnaws at me.

“There’s settlements east of West Tower? In Burning Ground?”

He raises a brow in that knowing way he always had as a kid. Same look he gave me when I nagged him for not wearing his shirt that day.

“Where are we going, Asher? We were friends once. Please.”

Hurt glances his features. “We’re still friends.”

“Really? This is what friends do to each other?” I rattle the bars of the cage.

Asher searches for his buddies, and after confirming that they’re still out of earshot, he turns back to me.

“Beyond Burning Ground,” he says at a whisper. “We’re sidestepping it, aiming for a place called the Barrel. You’ll be out of there in a matter of days if you play it right, with a real chance of escape. Nothing like what I can offer you here. Let Bain and Cree get a payload from you, and get yourself moved to a new house. Servants have access to most parts of a home, especially the kitchen. Kitchens have knives. And you’ve always been good with a knife.” His face has that youthful look again, a sliver of the Asher I once knew. I wonder if this means his words are sincere. If everything else is an act. He’s a stranger, yet he’s not. I don’t know what to believe.

“I’m not staying in the Barrel long,” Asher goes on. “It was just for this last job, to pay off a debt to Bain, and then I’m leaving. But I’ll wait for you. We can head west together.”

Wait for me to murder whoever buys me, or to simply threaten my way free with a blade. Still, it sounds like a plan that has a chance of success. I’d rather run now, but Asher’s right. I don’t have the supplies to get anywhere safe.

“Say I manage all this and get myself free. How would I even find you?”

“The Vulture’s Roost. It’s a pub. I’ll stop in daily, at high noon.”

“What’s a pub?”

“A place that sells moonblitz and chow, but mostly moonblitz.”

Moonblitz was always at the bottom of our list for trading needs at Dead River. It could clean wounds fine and was a nice treat to sip on during a holiday, but it was never something we went out of our way to secure. To think there’s a place that sells it and that people actually trade valuables for the drink regularly sounds laughable.