“We don’t have a fortnight,” said James. He turned away from the man in disgust as two assassins grabbed and held him.

James pointed at Bacchus and two others. “Come with me.” As he turned, his gaze fell on Kyra. “You too.”

Bacchus led the way, dashing from house to house. Kyra followed his trail, unsure whether to be pleased or terrified that James had included her. They stopped in the shadows across the street from the armory’s door. It was an old building, and judging from its architecture, had been repurposed from some more elegant function. Both the massive door and the walls were decorated with intricate carvings, and the building’s bell tower rose high above the surrounding houses.

James turned to Kyra. “Pick the lock. Watch for guards—there’s two of them making rounds.”

Kyra nodded, her heartbeat quickening as she scanned the road. No sign of the guards. She reached for her lock pick as she sprinted to the main door. Ears tuned for approaching footsteps, she inserted her lock pick and twisted the lock, but stopped. Something didn’t feel right. Her stomach clenched as she probed the tumblers. She’d heard of these locks before. The tumblers pointed in different directions. They couldn’t be picked. Kyra squeezed her eyes shut. This was not the time to fail.

She retreated back to the group. “The lock can’t be picked,” she said.

“You can’t pick the lock?” asked James.

“Nobody can.”

He had already turned away from her, a move that cut deeper than anything he could have said. “Get the guards.” The other assassins dashed toward the building and separated, melting into the shadows at different points. Then, silence. Long minutes passed until finally Kyra heard footsteps. A guard rounded the corner, scanning the road.

It happened quickly. Suddenly, the guard was clutching at his throat, falling backward into Bacchus. The assassin kneed the small of his back, and the guard stopped struggling. As Bacchus dragged him back to James, Kyra saw that the man was still conscious, face twisted in pain. The guard’s eyes fell on Kyra and their eyes met. She stood, petrified by the pain and pleading in his eyes. Why was he looking at her? She was powerless here. He had to see that.

Another assassin came back, dragging a second guard.

“Search them,” said James. The assassins stripped the men of their clothing, inspecting pockets and lining.

“Nothing,” said Bacchus.

James jerked his head. Another assassin grabbed one of the guards and pinned his arms behind him. Bacchus walked to face him and looked to James for a cue. James nodded and Bacchus struck him across the face. His blow connected with a sickening thud. Kyra’s stomach churned and she looked away.

“Where’s the key?” James’s voice was quiet.