Han launched himself toward the rusher, slamming his shoulder into him with all his weight behind it. The thief fell, striking his head on the stone wall. He fell flat on his face on the cobblestones, his arms stretched out in front of him, knocked out cold.

Han looked down at him. He was dressed all in black, with narrow black trowsers, black boots, and a hooded jacket that fit close to his slender body. Dressed like an assassin. So why hadn’t he just cut Han’s throat and robbed his body at his leisure?

The whole thing had gone down almost silently. Han grabbed up his amulet and dropped the chain over his head, keeping it in his hand. He stood in a half-crouch, with his knife in his other hand, expecting to see the thief’s accomplices running at him.

But a single figure detached itself from the shadows at the side of the building and came toward him.

“Keep back,” Han said, waving the knife. “Or I’ll stick you and your friend.”

“Don’t kill her,” Dancer said, stepping into the light that leaked onto the path from the street. “We need to find out why she did it and who she’s working for.”

Her? Han slumped back against the wall, his knife dangling loosely, his head spinning. This is a dream, he thought.

Dancer knelt next to the prone larcener and relieved her of her knife. He gently turned the body over.

It was Cat Tyburn.

C H A P T E R  T H I R T Y

THIS ROUGH
MAGIC

Mick and Garret took hold of Raisa’s arms, trying to tug her out of her room while Han backed toward the window. Amon advanced on him, sword extended.

“That’s all right, Corporal,” Han said. “No need to deal with me. Good to see you again. I was just going.” His gaze met Raisa’s for a long moment, his blue eyes hard and brilliant as sapphires. He turned, jerked open the shutters, and slid feetfirst through the window like an eel. Dropping his sword, Amon leaped forward, grabbing at him, but missed.

Pulling free from Mick and Garret, Raisa ran to the window and pushed in next to Amon. He seized her arm, like he thought she might jump out after Han.

She leaned out of the window in time to see Han limping across the gallery roof, away from them.

“I’ll see you Thursday!” Raisa shouted after him. She grabbed his cloak from the hook and tossed it through the window. Han scooped it up and walked on, not looking back when Amon slammed the shutters closed.

“All right,” Amon said. “He’s gone. The rest of you, out. I want to speak with Morley in private. If Abbott and Talbot come back, keep ’em downstairs.”