Kyra made it down a few corridors before she heard footsteps again. She only had time to duck into a side hallway, press against the wall, and hope nobody looked back. The smell of roasted ham teased her nose, followed by three kitchen servants. One carried a half-eaten ham. Another had a platter of cheeses, and the last carried a plate of leftover fruit. The servants would take them back to the kitchen, where they would eat what they wanted and throw the rest out. It was painful to see all this waste, but Kyra couldn’t risk following them. The footsteps faded, and Kyra almost started out when she heard someone else. She held her breath as a Red Shield walked past. His scarlet tunic made her flinch. The guards at the armory had worn the same red uniforms. Several times now she’d woken up in terror and lain awake in bed as the beatings replayed in her mind. James had promised her she wouldn’t have to kill, that he’d set those guards free. But still…She pushed those thoughts aside and focused on getting out of the Palace.

James was in his study when she arrived at the Guildhouse. She dropped her parchment on his desk. “Trade route schedules for this month.”

“Good.”

She watched his eyes as he scanned the paper, trying to figure out what he used this information for. “I saw some other records tonight that might be useful. Recent payments for locksmiths.”

James looked at her in surprise. “From the Minister’s command to change storehouse locks?”

She nodded, pleased at his rare display of interest. “A list of buildings and locks. I can copy it tomorrow.”

“Well done. This new Defense Minister is getting to be a headache.”

Kyra took her leave. A few blocks from the Guild, a crowd clogged the road, and Kyra slowed to take in the scene. The people were gathered opposite a store, muttering discontentedly but softly. Apparently, they were afraid to anger the shieldmen who marched in and out, loading parcels onto a wagon. A middle-aged shopkeeper stood by the door. Anger and frustration were clearly etched in his face, but he made no move to stop them.

Kyra worked her way into the crowd, ears open for gossip. She nudged a woman next to her. “What’s going on?”

The woman glanced at her. “The herbalist couldn’t make his rent because the trade caravans lost their cargo last week. Caravans finally came this week, so the landlord’s taking his rent out of his wares.”

“It in’t his fault the caravans were raided. How’s he supposed to meet his next month’s rent with nothing to sell?”