As he always did after his reading lesson with Momma K, Azoth had looked for Jarl. But now that they were face to face, neither could find anything to say.

“I need your help,” Azoth said finally. There was no way to cover what he wanted. He wasn’t here to visit a friend. He was here to do a job.

“My help?”

“I need to know what’s happened to Doll Girl. Where is she? And I need to know what’s happening with the guilds.”

“I guess you wouldn’t know.”

“No.” Guilds weren’t part of his life now. Nothing was like it used to be.

“Your master hit you?” Jarl asked, looking at Azoth’s black eyes.

“I got this in a fight. He does hit me, but not like—” Azoth cut off.

“Not like Rat?”

“How is he?” Azoth said, trying to cover.

“Why don’t you tell me? You’re the one who killed him.”

Azoth opened his mouth, but seeing two littles in Momma K’s front room, stopped.

“Blint made you kill Rat to see if you could do it, didn’t he?” Jarl asked, his voice low.

“No. Are you crazy?” In his head, he could hear the echoes of Master Blint’s voice from their training: “Word gets out. Word always gets out.”

Hurt filled Jarl’s eyes, and he said nothing for a long time. “I shouldn’t push, Azoth. I’m sorry. I should just thank you. Rat . . . he messed me up bad. I’m so confused all the time. I hated him, but sometimes. . . . When Rat disappeared and I saw you walking away with Blint . . .” Jarl blinked rapidly and stared away. “Sometimes I hate you. You left me with no one. But that’s not right. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just Rat . . . and me.”

Azoth didn’t know what to say.

Jarl blinked furiously again. “Shut up, Jarl. Shut up.” He dashed the tears from his eyes with fists. “What do you need?”

There was something Azoth should say, he knew it. Some assurance he should give, but he didn’t know what it was. Jarl had been his friend—was his friend, wasn’t he?—but he’d changed. Azoth had changed. He was supposed to be Kylar now, but instead, he was just a fraud straddling two worlds and trying to hold on as they tore apart. Whatever the cataclysm named Rat had left Azoth holding onto, one thing was certain. A chasm had opened between him and Jarl, and Azoth was afraid to even approach it, didn’t understand what it was, didn’t know anything except that it made him feel dirty and scared. Jarl was letting him put the walls back up by asking his simple question—a simple question that could be answered simply, a problem that they could actually resolve.