Now I see why they’re going there. A footbridge runs between several of the nearby buildings. It shouldn’t be a way to get across behind the prison’s walls, except there is a dead tree, gnarled and twisted, a dozen feet away. It’s not an easy jump for anyone to make, especially quietly, but for Strikers? Doable. If they time it just right, they could make it onto the wall’s ramparts.

“We’ll need to bring the guards on the wall to us and away from those footbridges,” I add.

Jeran nods. “They’ll wait for us to make our move.”

We wait a few more minutes, then step out from the shadows of the buildings to head over to where the soldiers are standing.

One of them immediately narrows his eyes at us, his hands moving to the weapons at his belt. His gaze roams over me. “Lost?” he snaps.

I have a sudden urge to scare him, to spread my steel wings and see their faces change from hostile to terrified. But instead, I swallow and wring my hands.

Another guard shoves me with her baton. “What’s this? Speak when you’re spoken to. No loitering around the prison district. Everyone knows that.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, pretending shyness. At least I have a native Karenese accent, something which seems to make them look at us with disinterest. I put a hand on Jeran’s shoulder beside me. “My cousin and I, we’re looking for an aunt who we think was brought here.”

It’s a pretty typical scenario, what we’ve set up. I’ve seen plenty of people try their luck at the prison district’s gates, pleading the cases for their family members to the guards standing by.

The first soldier snorts. “You have questions about specific prisoners, take it up with your local captain.”

I take a deep breath, drawing on my own memories of living in Cardinia and the various tours of duty I had in the city. “I would,” I say, “except my local captain has been heading up the solstice festivities all week and hasn’t been in her complex.”

“Who’s your local captain?” the soldier asks.

I name someone I remember. “Captain Solamen,” I reply.

“Ah.” A third guard nods, confirming that I must be a native citizen here. “Solamen hasn’t been talking to her blocks in weeks. Too busy with the solstice.”

The other two guards seem to lower their stances a bit at that. The first one shrugs at me. “Your unlucky week,” he tells us. “Wait until after solstice. You can ask about your aunt to her then.”

Jeran pretends to start crying. I shake my head, my voice turning urgent. “No, you don’t understand,” I tell them. “We can’t wait that long. Our aunt suffers from a lung disease. She won’t last a few days in this district, and we need to petition for her to be moved. Please. Isn’t there anyone I can talk to here? Can you pass along my message?”

The soldier sighs. “No exceptions and no moves. We’re all stretched thin these days.” He waves his gun at me. “Move along with your cousin. Go back and talk to your local captain.”