“Another time,” Qurrah said. “Someone else is watching us. We need to leave.”

“Well,” Harruq said, taking the initiative. “Nowhere else to go but home, if it still stands. Anyone follows us, we’ll know.”

Harruq led the way, following the western road for a quarter mile before darting south. Fewer and fewer people traveled the streets, and those that did stared openly at Aurelia. It wasn’t often a noble of worth came anywhere near their homes. Harruq led them deeper south, into the old, decaying part of the city.

“Is anyone still following us?” Aurelia asked.

“Not that I see,” Qurrah said. “But I feel it still, eyes watching from afar.”

“Come on, we’re almost there,” Harruq said. “I’d say we already look suspicious enough. Think I can dump the bags?”

“No need.” A wave of her hand and the bags vanished into nothing. Harruq stretched his arms, moaning with approval.

“Much better.” His hands fell to his swords. “Follow me.”

With Harruq no longer carrying the bags, they made a faster pace. Aurelia took in as much as she could as they weaved through homes and back alleys. They were so close to the prosperous northern districts, yet here it seemed the sun shone less, the faces bore little happiness, and no sign of wealth dared let itself show. With each turn Harruq led them on, things grew worse.

“There are no places such as these in Woodhaven,” Aurelia said softly.

“Welcome to the dark parts of mankind,” Qurrah muttered with strange amusement. Drunk men wandered the street in daytime. A few whores catcalled to them. The air stank of feces and urine, for the thin sewers on each side of the street were clogged and overflowing. Lying beside a ditch, crowned with a halo of flies, was a blood-spattered corpse. No one seemed to notice.

Qurrah glanced back, barely catching sight of a yellow robe.

“Find us a building,” he said to Harruq. “Make it large and empty.”