“Great trade. Thanks. Bye.” He took off at a dash.

“Hey!” the man shouted, chasing after him. “Hey!”

“No tradebacks!” Wayne shouted, hand on his wet hat, running for all he was worth.

“Come back here!”

Wayne dashed out onto the main street along the canal, passing a couple of old men sitting on a tenement’s steps near the entrance to the slums.

“That’s Edip’s boy,” one of them said. “Always gettin’ himself into trouble, that one is.”

The man got hit in the face by a meat bun a second later.

Wayne ignored that, holding his hat to his head and running all-out. The conner was a determined one. Followed Wayne a good ten streets before slowing, then stopping, hands on his knees. Wayne grinned and ducked around one last corner before slamming his back against the bricks of a building, beside a window. He was pretty winded himself.

He’ll probably file a report, Wayne thought. Hope the fine they make Wax pay ain’t too large.

He ought to find something to bring back as an apology. Maybe Wax needed a wallet.

Wayne heard something beside him, and turned to see a woman with spectacles leaning out the window to look at him curiously. She was holding a pen, and just inside the window a half-finished letter lay on the desk in front of her. Perfect.

Wayne tipped his hat, snatching the pen from her hand. “Thanks,” he said, opening the notebook and scribbling some words. As she cried out, he tossed the pen back to her, then continued on his way.

The final destination, the god’s dwelling, was not far now. He veered down a street lined with trees and quaint smaller townhomes. He counted them off, then turned to the right and stood facing it. The god’s new temple. She’d moved here a few months ago.

He took a deep breath, banishing the music in his head. This had to be quiet. He crept carefully up the long walk to the front door. There, he quietly tucked the book into the spot between the doorknob and the door. He didn’t dare knock. Ranette was a jealous god, known for shooting people—for her, it was practically a governmental mandate. If the constables didn’t find a few corpses on her doorstep every week, they’d start to wonder if she wasn’t feeling well.

Wayne slipped away. He smiled, imagining Ranette’s reaction when she opened the door, and was so distracted that he almost ran right into Ranette herself walking up the path to her house.

Wayne stumbled back. Perfect brown hair, pulled back to expose a gorgeous face, weathered from her time in the Roughs. A fantastic figure, round in all the right places. Tall. Taller than Wayne. So he had something to look up to.

“Wayne! What were you doing at my door?”

“I—”

“Idiot,” she said, shoving past him. “You’d better not have broken in. Tell Wax I delivered those cords to him just now. He needn’t have sent someone to check on me.”