He glanced over—and there she was.
Asthia, half-buried in the blanket, shifted. Her eyes crept open, wincing against the gray morning light seeping through the shutters.
She took a breath, then pushed herself up with careful elegance, hair spilling across her face.
She sat up, bracing her hands on the bed for an instant.
"Morning," Reth said at last, speaking low.
Asthia emitted a small grunt that could have been a greeting.
She rubbed the heel of her palm over her eyes, grumbled something, and kicked her legs over the edge of the bed. The cold floor caused her to jerk in response.
She sat up quickly, the sleep fog clearing from her vision.
"Reth," she said, edgy but controlled, not even looking at him. "Get dressed. We're leaving. "
He rubbed his own eyes. "Already?"
She was mid-way through lacing her boots. "People talk early—before they sober up or change their minds."
Reth groaned as he sat up, his neck cracking. "No breakfast, no plan. Just go straight at it?"
"We didn't drag ourselves through the wilderness just to sleep in flea-infested taverns," she remarked, buckling the strap on her wrist guard.
"Elenya's most likely half-saddled already and charming Redhill's wastrels. If we don't catch up, she'll have all the better gossip."
Reth grunted and got to his feet, yanking on his tunic. "You think the City Lord's party's actually related to the meeting?"
Asthia hesitated, gaze darting to him. "I don't think in accidents."
She buckled the belt around her waist with economical movements and gestured to the satchel on the floor.
"Take the map. We'll cover the district outside the estate. Check the rear entrances, guard patrols. Any anomalies."
"And if we get caught poking around?"
Asthia smiled weakly, the smallest glint of metal in her eye. "Then I'll speak. You stab."
Reth frowned but didn't protest. He hooked the satchel over his shoulder and trailed behind her out into the hallway, where the damp air of the inn enveloped them like a wet blanket.
Outside, the rain started in earnest—light, piercing mist that stuck to clothing and made blurred edges of the waking city.
Asthia didn't wait. She pulled her hood up and walked into the street as if it were just another battlefield.
"Come on," she said. "Let's see what we can get."
Redhill – East Quarter, Near the Estate Walls
Asthia slid through the shadows under her hood, the black cloak hanging behind her in the wet, rain-slick streets.
Reth trailed two paces behind, his own hood low to hide his face. In this of the city—where manor guardsmen walked and nobles rode in enclosed carriages—two cloaked persons moving quietly caused no problem.
It was the ones who did not move that caused trouble.
The estate rose a couple of blocks away, whitish stone shining wet with rain. Iron fences encircled the outside edge, topped with blackened spikes.
The big gate was open, guarded by torch-carrying guards in crimson-tabbed uniforms. Through it, the curved road went to the City Lord's manor—huge, fancy, and teeming with servants and arriving dignitaries.
Reth spoke softly. "Too many eyes for a direct glance."
Asthia nodded, ducking into the canopy of a fruit stall. The vendor, drowsy, didn't even look up.
She extracted a crumpled scrap from her sleeve and started drawing with a charcoal stub—angles, walls, patrol shifts.
"Guard shifts change every two bells," she whispered. "That gives us a window before evening—when the party starts."
"You think we can get in during the change?"
"No," she replied, her eyes narrowing. "But I believe someone else may be able. We only need to discover who's already on the inside."
Across the road, a group of staff came out of a side alleyway—kitchen boys and serving girls, wet-heeled and half-asleep, padding through a servant's gate cut into the stone wall.
Reth tracked her gaze. "Catering staff."
Asthia nodded. "They'll introduce new ones at sunset. If we're going to slip in unseen… that's our window."
Reth crossed his arms. "You going to sweet-talk your way in with a wine tray?"
"I'm going to get a list," she said. "A proper one. Names, functions, who's on what. Nobles don't see faces, only uniforms and paper."
She shoved away from the stall and continued walking, boots squelching through a shallow puddle. "There's a staging area close by. Food sellers. Outfitters. Junior guild contacts. We track the stream of coin, we find someone who will open up."
"Or pay to."
Asthia shot him a dry glance over her shoulder. "Semantics."
Redhill – South Market, Hour Later
The rain had turned to mist, the city shifting in that sleepy cadence before noon.
Asthia and Reth walked into a great canvas-shrouded alleyway called the Caterers' Strip—barrels of dried fruit, crates of silverware, steam curling off potwagons.
Everywhere, temporally employed workers hurried and cursed and haggled over pay tickets.
A man with a dirty apron snapped orders by a makeshift ledger stall.
"That's our man," Asthia said.
Reth leaned in. "And your plan?"
"Disguise. Deception. Mild extortion. You know—usual."
He let out a deep breath. "I preferred it when the plan was 'stab the problem.'"
She flashed him a sharp smile. "That comes after."
Asthia did not wait for further argument. She strode across the mud-slicked space between stalls and slid up next to the ledger booth as if she had every right to be there.
The apron-clad man hardly glanced up, too occupied shouting at a quivering assistant holding a precarious stack of tin plates.
Asthia knocked a knuckle on the table. "City Lord's function. Final staffing manifest?"
The man blinked at her under a sweating brow. "You late? Already turned over the revised list to the steward. Nothing left."
"Not for the steward," Asthia responded calmly, snapping a coin in her fingers.
It reflected the pale light perfectly—silver, stamped with the provincial crest. "Audit request. Cross-reference for misissued passes. I must have the names."
The man sneered. "Audit? Since when do they send accountants in cloaks?"
"Since the last one oversaw a poisoning," she said unemotionally.
That stopped him.