Ilan knew better than to ask about Zhek. Instead, he handed her the cane. Made of blue alabaster, a lightweight but strong stone, it hooked at the end to form a handle. There were small ridges on the underside that helped her get a better grip. A leather plug covered the bottom of the cane to reduce noise.

“Twist the handle and pull,” Ilan said.

She did as instructed and revealed a surprise. A thin blade about thirty centimeters long slid out. “Oooh. I like this.”

“Thought so.” He beamed.

Slightly hunched over, Shyla walked with her cane. It took her a few angles to find a rhythm and she still wasn’t smooth or very fast. But that didn’t matter as her ungainly gait matched her disguise of an older woman. She’d covered her hair and half of her face with her wrap. The best part was that the cane kept most of her weight off her injured leg.

Ilan accompanied her, playing the role of a dutiful grandson. She’d argued with Orla that she was just going on a reconnaissance mission, but the woman had insisted that, with the deacons searching Zirdai, Shyla needed backup.

“But he’s only ten circuits old,” she’d said. “I don’t want him to get caught or hurt.” She’d feel awful if that happened. His rats would miss him.

“He’s eleven and the boy’s better equipped at avoiding a deacon than you are right now,” Orla had said. “Take him or you can’t go.”

And here they were. Shyla found it interesting and a little sad that most people ignored her. Instead, they nodded to Ilan with approval. Not that she was complaining—going unnoticed was her goal. They descended to level seventy-one where blending in became harder to do. The quality of their clothing didn’t match that of the people who lived in the seventies. Though not nearly as wealthy as those living below level eighty, they still had extra coin to purchase finer fabrics that were custom tailored.

Avoiding guards was also challenging as teams of them patrolled these tunnels and the presence of the costly trol lanterns hindered them. The bright light of the trols chased away the shadows. Shyla preferred the druks with their weak purple glow.