ULF
I spent every piece of gold I'd saved.
Four years of careful accumulation—profits from my Flea Bottom businesses, rewards from grateful lords, wages from my position. All of it converted into bribes.
"Find me the Worm. Find me the Butcher."
The message spread through my network like fire through dry grass. Every beggar. Every tavern keeper. Every corrupt Gold Cloak I'd cultivated over the years.
Someone will see them. Someone will talk.
I positioned myself at the network's center—a cramped room above a chandler's shop, chosen for its multiple exits and clear sightlines. Reports flowed in hourly.
The Worm had been seen near the docks. Then near the Guildhall. Then near the Sept.
Moving. Always moving. He knows the net is closing.
The Butcher was harder. A ghost name. No confirmed sightings. No reliable descriptions.
He's either more careful or new to the city. Either way, dangerous.
Day two. Day three. My gold dwindled. My patience wore thin.
Then—
"Found something." My contact, a Gold Cloak sergeant named Harys. "The Butcher. Real name's Edwyn. Used to be one of ours until he got dismissed for... excessive methods."
"Where is he now?"
"Has lodging near the Street of Silk. Number 17, above the cobbler's shop."
I was moving before he finished speaking.
THE BUTCHER'S LODGING
The door hung off its hinges.
Someone had left in a hurry. Recently—the candles were still warm, wax pooled but not hardened.
I searched the room with methodical care. Bed, unmade. Chest, mostly empty—just worn clothes and a few personal items. Table...
On the table: a map.
My blood went cold.
The Red Keep. Detailed. Accurate. With specific chambers marked in red ink.
Helaena's rooms.
The nursery.
And written in careful hand: "Seven days. Wait for the signal."
Seven days from when? Today? Yesterday? A week ago?
I pocketed the map. Continued searching.
Under the bed: a coin. Pentoshi gold, like the brothel worker mentioned. And scratched into its surface, a symbol I recognized from intelligence reports.
Daemon's personal sigil.
He's coordinating them directly. Personal investment. Personal hatred.
I left the lodging and headed for the Keep at a dead run.
MIDNIGHT
The passages were cold and silent.
I crouched in the darkness near the junction that led to the nursery. My best knife in hand. Every sense extended.
If they come tonight, I'll be ready.
Hours passed. Nothing.
I shifted position. Checked the other approaches. Returned.
More hours.
My eyes burned. My wounded ribs ached.
They could come any night. Tonight. Tomorrow. A week from now.
I couldn't guard every moment. Couldn't be everywhere at once.
Need to find them first. Eliminate the threat at its source.
But I also couldn't leave the children unprotected while I hunted.
Split the difference. Hunt by day, guard by night.
A sound. Footsteps.
I pressed flat against the wall. Knife ready.
The footsteps approached. Hesitated. Moved on.
Just a servant, carrying linens. Innocent.
I relaxed fractionally. Resumed my vigil.
Dawn came. Nothing had happened.
I slipped out of the passages, exhausted but alert. Found Helaena in her chambers, already awake.
"Any trouble?"
"None. They're still waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
"I don't know." I showed her the map. "But they have this. Detailed. Accurate."
She studied it with those knowing eyes.
"The burrower and the cutter. They're patient. Methodical." She traced the marked chambers with one finger. "But they'll make a mistake. Everyone does."
"What if they don't?"
"Then you'll be there when they come." She looked up. "You're always there."
"Not always. I can't be everywhere."
"You're where it matters." She took my hand. "Sleep today. I'll have guards I trust watching the children. Tonight, you can resume your vigil."
"I don't—"
"Sleep. Please. You're no use to anyone dead on your feet."
She's right. Hate it, but she's right.
"Four hours."
"Six."
"Five."
"Done."
She led me to her sitting room. A couch, cushions, blankets. Not a proper bed, but close enough.
"Rest. I'll wake you if anything happens."
I lay down. Closed my eyes.
Sleep came faster than expected—my body taking what my mind resisted.
I dreamed of tunnels and knives and children screaming.
When I woke, the sun was setting, and Helaena sat beside me, watching.
"Nothing happened," she said before I could ask. "The children are safe. Your network sent word—the Worm was spotted near the Mud Gate an hour ago."
I was on my feet immediately.
"Direction?"
"Heading into the city. Toward the Street of Steel."
The armorer's district. Why?
Didn't matter. I had a trail.
I strapped on my knife. Checked my weighted bracers. Made for the door.
"Be careful," Helaena called after me.
"Always."
The hunt resumed.
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