The Threat Assessment skill immediately activated, analyzing what it could detect through the wood. Someone nervous but not hostile. Carrying weapons but not in an aggressive stance. The gait and breathing patterns suggested someone I might know.
"Jin?" Kira's voice came through the door. "I need to talk to you."
I opened the door to find her standing in the hallway, still wearing her expedition gear but looking like she'd been running. Her face was flushed, her breathing elevated, and my new skill was picking up stress markers I'd never noticed before—micro-expressions of fear, anger, and something that looked like desperation.
"What's wrong?" I asked, stepping aside to let her in.
"Blackwood," she said, entering quickly and closing the door behind her. "He's already at the Guild, spinning his version of what happened."
I felt my stomach drop. "How bad?"
"Bad." Kira began pacing the small confines of my room like a caged animal. "I went to file my own report, figured they should hear from both survivors. Found out he'd beaten me there by hours."
"What's his story?"
"That we tried to kill him in the dungeon. Claims we attacked him and Marcus when they discovered crystal fragments in our gear, fragments we'd supposedly stolen during the expedition." Her voice was bitter. "Says Marcus died defending him from us, and he barely escaped with his life."
The implications hit me immediately. From a certain perspective, parts of that story were true. We had fought them. Marcus was dead. Blackwood had emerged injured and alone.
"And people believe it?"
"Why wouldn't they? He's got years of reputation as a successful expedition leader. We're just—"
My Threat Assessment skill suddenly exploded with warning signals, cutting off her words. Multiple hostile presences. Moving with predatory silence. Already inside the building.
"Quiet," I whispered urgently, grabbing Kira's arm. "We're not alone."
She froze, her hand instinctively moving to her hammer. "What—"
I held up a finger for silence, concentrating on what my skill was telling me. At least three people, possibly four. Moving up the stairs with careful, practiced steps. No conversation, no unnecessary noise. The kind of coordination that came from years of killing people professionally.
"Assassins," I breathed, barely audible. "In the building. Coming up."
Kira's eyes went wide, but to her credit, she didn't panic. Instead, she moved silently to the window, testing the latch while I grabbed my pack.
The skill was feeding me more information now. Two on the stairs, one positioning himself at the back exit, one more watching the street. They'd surrounded the building before making their move. Professional work.
A soft creak from the floorboard outside my door made us both freeze. Someone was right there, probably listening for movement inside. My skill painted a picture of controlled breathing, absolute stillness, a predator preparing to strike.
Kira had the window open now, cold night air flowing into the room. She gestured toward it, but I shook my head. Moving now would make noise, and whoever was outside my door would hear it.
Then I heard the faintest sound — metal against metal. Someone was picking my lock.
I drew my Kobold Fang Dagger as quietly as possible, the enchanted blade gleaming dully in the lamplight. Kira readied her hammer, positioning herself beside the door where she wouldn't be immediately visible to whoever came through.
The lock clicked. A pause. Then the door began to open with agonizing slowness.
A figure dressed in dark leather slipped into the room, moving like a shadow. My Threat Assessment skill screamed warnings about the twin daggers in his hands, the poison likely coating their blades, the efficiency of his movements.
He spotted me immediately, but not Kira. That half-second of divided attention was all she needed.
Her hammer caught him in the ribs with a wet crunch, sending him stumbling into my small table. He tried to cry out, but the blow had driven the air from his lungs. I lunged forward with my dagger, the Kobold Fang's bleeding enchantment activating as it found the gap in his leather armor.
Dark blood began seeping from the wound, and the assassin collapsed, his coordination failing as the magic disrupted whatever enhancement he'd been using.
"Window. Now," Kira whispered, already moving.
But my skill was warning me of more immediate threats. The sound of our brief fight had alerted the others. Heavy footsteps were pounding up the stairs now, stealth abandoned for speed.
I followed Kira out onto the narrow ledge just as our door exploded inward. A crossbow bolt whined past my head, embedding itself in the window frame. Close enough that I could feel the fletching brush my hair.
"There!" someone shouted from inside the room. "On the ledge!"
We scrambled along the building's edge, the drop to the street below looking much farther than three stories. Another crossbow bolt sparked off the stone near Kira's hand, sending chips of masonry raining down.
"Jump!" she called, leaping across the gap to the neighboring building's roof.
I followed without thinking, my pack bouncing as I landed hard on the slate tiles. Behind us, I could hear the assassins organizing, at least one of them climbing out onto the ledge to pursue.
"This way," Kira whispered, leading me across the blacksmith's roof toward the back of the building.
We dropped into the alley, landing in a crouch among the shadows. In the distance, I could hear movement—the remaining assassins repositioning, trying to cut off our escape routes.
"How did you know?" Kira asked quietly as we made our way through the darkened alleys.
"Paranoia," I replied, which wasn't entirely a lie. "After today, I'm jumping at shadows. Just happened to be right this time."
She nodded, accepting the explanation. Good thing too, because "I bought a magical skill with points earned from the dungeon" probably wouldn't go over well.
We paused at the mouth of an alley, checking for watchers before crossing a main street. My skill was still painting the night with subtle threat assessments, which was useful but also mildly annoying. Knowing that the drunk stumbling past was harmless while the cat in the window was plotting world domination wasn't exactly essential survival information.
"Running only works until you run out of places to hide," I said, channeling my inner philosopher. Amazing how near-death experiences made you sound wise. "We need to fight back."
"With what? Our word against his?"
"With information," I replied. "We need to know who we're really dealing with, and we need proof that people will believe."
Kira looked at me skeptically. "And how exactly do we get that kind of information?"
"I know someone who trades in secrets," I said, thinking of Morrigan and her unnerving ability to know things she shouldn't. "If anyone knows how to prove Blackwood hired those assassins, it'll be her."
"An information broker?"
"The best in the city. Problem is, her help won't come cheap."
In the distance, we could hear the sounds of a search beginning. Footsteps, low voices, the systematic approach of professionals who probably had much better health insurance than we did.
"Better than staying here and waiting for them to find us," Kira said. "Lead the way."
As we made our way through the darkened streets of Ravengate, I took a moment to appreciate how spectacularly my evening had gone off the rails. A few hours ago, my biggest worry was figuring out a magical shopping menu. Now I was a fugitive seeking help from information brokers who probably charged in blood samples.