With a frustrated exhale, she cut into the next street paralleling the southeast side of Old Bailey Road. She stuck close to the buildings until she spotted a narrow walkway that would take her back to the loop around the keep. When she ducked in, she could just make out the alley's far end. Beyond, she spotted part of the wall across Old Bailey Road. She needed a vantage point farther behind the patrolling guards to check for any others circuiting the guild. And as yet, she still had no idea how to get past the two at the gatehouse.
Wynn padded along the narrow space and suddenly came upon a widened area midway. It opened on her left, and for an instant the change confused her in the dark.
A quick staccato of scratches filled the space. Wynn backed against the alley's opposing wall.
Digging in her pocket, she was already scanning the dark area as she pulled out her crystal. Light washed over a wide alcove behind the building.
Tall, narrow barrels and a few crates were stacked around three worn wooden steps leading to a rear door. A tawny rat darted across the alcove's floor stones into hiding beneath those stairs.
Wynn took several slow breaths. Her nerves were so on edge that now she was startled by vermin. Wouldn't that have given Leesil something to gibe her about, after all the dangers they'd faced in their journeys?
Fearful of revealing her presence, she stuffed the crystal back in her pocket and turned toward the alley's far end.
There was only darkness ahead. No faintly lighter space showed where the alley opened into Old Bailey Road. Only impossibly deep black filled the narrow alley.
Wynn backed up.
The dark began moving. Flowing up the alley, it seemed to eat what little light came from the street beyond. Chane turned down the street's gradual arc. He knew he should stay away from Wynn for her own good. Yet she had asked him questions laced with eagerness for his help, and hints concerning her life at the guild left him wondering.
Was she lonely among her own kind? Enough that even the sight of a familiar monster was welcome? Or was it just that he wished it so? He could not let himself wallow in false hopes, and he headed off toward the Graylands Empire and his small attic room.
The beast inside him rumbled in agitation.
Chane's fingernails instinctively hardened as he halted. He spun sharply around in the empty street. Barely an itch inside him, but still, something pulled at the edge of his awareness.
s" w, bSince entering this city he had taken to wearing Welstiel's ring of nothing at all times. The longer he wore it, the duller his awareness became. But he felt something
Chane looked down the dark street as his senses fully widened—and panic crept in.
After his botched attempt to seize the folio, that black figure, so physical to his eyes and yet not, had fixed upon Wynn. If it still watched for her, and she now carried the scroll from the same source as the texts…
He had been so relieved at her acceptance of him, that he had not thought of the further danger in which he had placed her. He had not even thought to trail her home in secret.
"Fool!" Chane hissed at himself, and bolted back up the street.
Blackness vanished suddenly from the alley.
Wynn saw the dim outline of the exit reappear. Still, she took another step back.
Had she seen that pure darkness at all? Or had she grown so paranoid that her mind played upon her fears?
Down the alley she clearly saw the tall bailey wall and the keep's southern tower above it. Both remained plainly visible. In a slow, angry breath, she gripped the staff with both hands.
"So… paranoid it is," she grumbled to herself and stepped forward.
Reaching the alley's far end, she carefully peeked around the left side.
The guild's southern corner hid the front gate and gatehouse from sight, but she didn't spy any patrolling guards. A quick glance right found that way empty as well. Wynn stepped out, prepared to dash for the wall and follow it around to the castle's front.
A black column stood twenty paces off in the middle of the road.
Pieces of it began to waft, like night-colored sails unfurling under a rising breeze.
Wynn glanced quickly up at the keep's southern tower.
As during her escape, all its windowed archer's slits were dark. No one was there to see her. When her gaze dropped she lurched backward.
The figure stood no more than five paces off.
Folds of its heavy black cowl sagged across its cloak's shoulders. And the cloak's layers over its long black robe floated on a wind that touched nothing else in sight. Wynn gripped the staff in both hands, glancing frantically about.
