Chapter Thirteen: The Problem with Strangers
The first sign of trouble was the apple.
It hit Kerris square in the shoulder.
"Hey!" he protested, spinning around. "That was uncalled for and frankly unripe."
"Keep walking," a voice hissed from above.
Aerin looked up.
A girl crouched on the edge of a low rooftop, dark curls escaping from a loose braid, eyes bright with alarm and calculation. She couldn't have been much older than Aerin, though she carried herself like someone who'd learned early not to wait for permission.
Behind them, boots thundered.
"City watch," Maelra muttered. "Again."
The girl swore under her breath. "Great. You led them here."
Kerris blinked. "We did what now?"
"No time," the girl said. "You—tall, glowing-with-impending-disaster energy—up. Now."
She dropped a rope.
Aerin stared at it. "We don't know you."
"Valid," the girl said. "Counterpoint: you really don't want to be here in ten seconds."
Right on cue, a shout echoed from the street.
Maelra weighed the alley, the rooftops, the sound of pursuit.
"Up," she decided.
Kerris grabbed the rope. "See? She's already giving us gifts. Very hospitable."
They scrambled onto the rooftop just as guards rounded the corner below, cursing.
The girl hauled the rope up and bolted across the tiles, leaping gaps with practiced ease.
"Name's Tamsin," she called back. "If we survive, you can thank me."
"If?" Kerris panted. "I like your optimism."
They ducked low as an arrow clattered past, skidding harmlessly over stone.
Aerin felt it then—the girl's emotions brushing theirs.
Fast. Focused. Fear threaded tightly around confidence, controlled and sharp.
Interesting.
They landed in a narrow loft, breathless. Tamsin barred the door and pressed her ear to the wood.
Silence.
Then distant shouting, moving away.
She relaxed—just a little.
"Alright," she said, turning. "Why are the guards after you?"
Kerris pointed at Aerin. "Magic."
Tamsin's eyes flicked instantly to Aerin's hands. "What kind?"
Aerin hesitated.
Maelra answered instead. "The kind people don't like."
Tamsin grinned. "Excellent. Me too."
Kerris's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, we are absolutely keeping her."
Aerin frowned. "You just met her."
"And yet," Kerris said, "I trust her completely."
Tamsin laughed. "You shouldn't."
Aerin studied her more carefully.
"What did you steal?" Aerin asked.
Tamsin froze.
Then she sighed. "Is it that obvious?"
"Yes," Aerin said. "You're vibrating with guilt and excitement."
Tamsin blinked. "That's… unsettling."
She reached into her satchel and pulled out a small, sealed vial. Inside, something faintly luminous swirled—soft gold, like liquid memory.
Maelra's stone hand tightened.
"Where did you get that?" Maelra demanded.
Tamsin swallowed. "From a place I wasn't supposed to be."
Aerin's chest hummed in response.
The vial sang to them—quiet, aching.
"What is it?" Kerris asked.
Tamsin looked at Aerin. "I don't know. But everyone who wants it is very sure it doesn't belong in the city."
Maelra's voice was low. "That's concentrated echo."
Aerin reached out, stopping just short of touching the glass.
"Whose?" they whispered.
Tamsin shook her head. "No idea."
But the hum beneath the floor pulsed once, deep and knowing.
Aerin met Tamsin's eyes.
"I think," Aerin said slowly, "it remembers something."
Tamsin swallowed again. "Please tell me that's normal where you're from."
Kerris clapped his hands together. "Congratulations! You've joined a deeply concerning group of people."
Maelra exhaled. "We need to move."
Tamsin nodded. "Good. Because if the Choir finds out what I took—"
She didn't finish the sentence.
She didn't have to.
Aerin felt it already.
The song, far away, searching.
And now it had a new thread to follow.