“I had it in my back-satchel. He cut it right from my shoulders and used some spell to jump onto the roof and get away. I have nothing left,” she whispered.

“Movay’s name, woman! What were you doing walking around the city with all your bank?”

“Thank you!” her friend beside her exclaimed weakly, her eyes still closed tight.

Yenni shot Weysh a hard look. “I needed to eat. How was I to know how much I would need?”

“Well, how much did you lose?” asked Zui.

“More than a thousand duvvies. I’m not exactly sure.”

Zui and Weysh were flabbergasted. “A thousand—Watcher above! You came out to buy dinner with over a thousand duvvies?” Weysh studied her closely. “Your father must be a very rich merchant, en?”

“Oh . . . yes,” she said.

Weysh got to his feet and stalked over to the thug who lay slumped against the back corner of the alley. His long, greasy hair was stuck to his face with sour sweat. Weysh crouched down before the man, unsmiling. “Where is he?” he said simply.

Weysh could tell the man would have been shaking if he wasn’t so thoroughly constricted by Zui’s body bind spell. “I don’t know,” said the thug. “By Byen I don’t know. He double-crossed us. Please, I don’t want to die here.”

Weysh curled his lip up at the cretin. “The only reason you’re not a smoking pile of ash right now,” he said, and pointed back at Yenni, “is because of her. You will tell the peacekeepers everything you know.”

The thug nodded weakly. “Yeah. I want to see Jean get what’s coming to him as bad as you, en?”

Weysh scoffed as he got to his feet, and it was an effort to hold back from kicking the weasel. He went back to the women.

“I doubt they’ll be much help,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What if you track him?” asked Yenni.

“I’m so sorry, lovely, but it’s not that simple. His scent will be incredibly difficult to follow.”

“And yet you’re always able to find me,” she said, her tone slightly accusatory.

“One, you’re my Given.” Her friend Diedre made a shocked little noise at that. “Your scent is like a beacon, stronger than anyone’s. Two, I’m not a bloodhound. Tracking a stranger’s scent through the muck of the city when they’ve already gotten a head start? It’s basically impossible but—you said he has your bag?”

“Yes.”

Weysh nodded. “I might be able to work with that. It’s not the same as tracking you, but it’s something.”

“Thank you, Weh-sheh.”