Gabriel woke before dawn.
The room was still dark, the window showing nothing but the faint outline of buildings across the street. He lay still for a moment, listening to the sounds of the city filtering up through the floorboards. Footsteps. Voices.
The creak of carts already moving through the streets below.
He rose and checked the blades.
Both were clean, oiled, and secured in their sheaths. He rolled his shoulders once, feeling the weight settle across his back. The illusion sat over him like it had since Bridgedon.
He left the room and descended the stairs.
The woman behind the counter didn't look up as he passed. The door opened onto a street already awake, the city's rhythm unbroken by night. Workers moved in steady streams toward factories and warehouses.
Carts rolled past loaded with goods. A man swept refuse from his doorstep while another argued with a merchant over the price of bread.
