Nathan walked toward the alley exit at a normal pace.

He didn’t run.

That was important.

Soul Sense confirmed that the closest group was thirty meters from the opposite end of the alley, which meant that in about ten seconds they were going to enter the space Nathan had just left.

If he and Liaraen ran out through the main entrance, any observer on the street would immediately identify them as the people the encirclement was looking for.

If they walked out calmly, they had a brief window before visual identification was confirmed.

Liaraen walked beside him without altering her pace, the cloth wrapped around her feet muffling the sound of each step against the stone.

She carried the food package under her arm as if it were a normal market purchase. Her face, perfectly neutral. Her eyes, fixed forward.

*Good,* Nathan thought. *She’s keeping pace. That’s half the work done.*

They exited the alley onto Weavers’ Street.

The street was at the midpoint of its end-of-day traffic.

Merchants closing stalls.

Women with baskets heading home.

A couple of apprentices sweeping the fronts of workshops. No one who looked obviously like part of a search team.

But Soul Sense told Nathan otherwise.

Two human presences to the left, about sixty meters away, standing on a corner apparently chatting with each other but with a body pattern that suggested street surveillance, not real conversation.

One presence to the right, about forty meters away, sitting on the step of a weaving workshop, pretending to rest.

Soul Sense confirmed that presence had been in exactly that position for more than fifteen minutes without moving.

And another presence, more subtle, in a second-floor window of a building across from the alley.

Soul Sense barely detected it at that distance, but the pattern was unmistakable: someone observing from above.

*Four visual lookouts. Twelve humans closing in. This is more organized than I thought.*

"To the left," Nathan murmured in a low voice.

"Why left?" Liaraen asked, barely moving her lips.

"Because on the right there’s a seated lookout and two on the corner. On the left, there’s less immediate visual coverage."

"And above?"

"There’s one above too. But above can’t follow us if we move fast in an unexpected direction."

"Which implies we’re going to move fast at some point."

"Yes."

"When?"

"When we reach the next corner."

Liaraen didn’t respond. But her free hand—the one not holding the package—adjusted her body weight into a slightly more balanced stance, as if she were internally preparing for a change in speed.

They turned left.

Weavers’ Street connected to Lamps Street, a narrower road with less commerce. Soul Sense reported two more presences on this new street, both at mid-distance, one at each end. The encirclement was tighter than Nathan had calculated.

*Plan modification.*

"Liaraen."

"Yes?"

"We’re turning again at the next corner. To the right. There’s a covered passage that connects to the equipment market district. Berran is in that direction."

"And if there are more in the passage?"

"There aren’t. Soul Sense confirms the passage is empty. But it only gives us a margin of about forty seconds before someone covers it."

"Enough."

They reached the next corner. Nathan took Liaraen’s free hand without a word—not as a romantic or protective gesture, but as a movement coordination tool. Liaraen understood the logic instantly and accepted the contact without comment.

They turned.

They quickened their pace. They didn’t run. They accelerated specifically enough to cover the distance to the covered passage before the two presences on Lamps Street could process the direction of their movement.

The covered passage was a common structure in old cities—a short tunnel between two buildings where locals had built connected rooftops to protect themselves from rain. In the center of the passage, there was shade even in daylight. At the end of the passage, a narrow exit to the back alley of the market.

They entered the passage.

Nathan stopped in the middle. Released Liaraen’s hand.

"Why are we stopping?" she asked.

"Because there are two people coming from behind. Soul Sense just detected them. Thirty seconds behind us. If we reach the end of the passage and step out into the next street, they’ll identify us as soon as we cross the light. But if we wait here, in the shadows, and let them pass first, we come out behind them instead of ahead."

"That’s counterintuitive."

"That’s why it works."

"And if they see us when they enter the passage?"

"That’s why you press against that wall. And I’ll press against the opposite one. When they pass through the center, they won’t look to the sides. People who chase look forward."

Liaraen didn’t argue. She pressed against the left wall of the passage, in the angle where the shadow was densest, holding the food package against her chest to minimize her silhouette. Nathan pressed against the opposite wall.

They waited.

The footsteps sounded first. Two pairs of boots, coordinated rhythm, entering the passage with the specific speed of people tracking a lead but not having confirmed it yet. The first of the two men passed within three meters of Nathan without looking at him. The second passed two seconds later. Soul Sense confirmed to Nathan that neither had registered their presence.

They exited the passage at the opposite end.

Nathan waited another five seconds.

"Now."

They stepped out into the back alley of the market. The alley was empty. The two men from the encirclement had already dispersed through the cross streets, searching.

And seventy meters away, at the corner of the alley with the equipment market street, was Berran’s stall—still open, with the old vendor slowly closing the baskets in the back.

---

Nathan reached the stall with Liaraen a step behind him.

Berran looked up. He assessed both of them in less than a second, with the same clinical precision he’d applied to Nathan the first time. He saw Nathan’s jacket. Saw the blood on the side. Saw Liaraen with her feet wrapped in cloth and the food package held against her chest. Saw the controlled urgency in the way both of them were breathing.

He sighed.

"Hunter," Berran said, with the voice of someone who had just confirmed his day was going to take longer to end than he’d planned. "This is moving faster than I expected."

"I need help," Nathan said, without preamble.

"That’s obvious."

"I have resources to pay for it."

"It’s not a matter of money. It’s a matter of what kind of help and at what cost. Wait."

Berran stopped closing the stall. Walked to the front. Took a casual look at the street, assessing. Returned to Nathan.

"There are four teams looking for you. I know this because three customers passed by here in the last twenty minutes asking if I’d seen a young Hunter with a box, and in this trade, when three customers ask the same thing in twenty minutes, it’s not a coincidence." Pause. "The girl."

"Yes."

"Elf."

"Yes."

"Noble house."

"Yes."

"Sael’thoryn."

Nathan went very still for a second.

"How do you know?"

"The hair. The specific shade of green. The accent I heard when she murmured something at the alley entrance three seconds ago. Only one of the major houses of the Northern Kingdom has that combination. I’ve seen it on two occasions before." Berran looked at Liaraen, gave a small tilt of his head that was almost imperceptible but diplomatically impeccable. "My lady. My condolences on the situation."

Liaraen returned the tilt with barely controlled surprise.

"Your recognition is appreciated, vendor."

"Berran. No formalities."

"Berran."

Berran looked at Nathan again.

"I told you not to get involved in deep theological matters."

"I didn’t have much choice."

"So it seems." He sighed again. "Alright. I’m going to do something I hadn’t planned on doing today. But I’m going to do it under specific conditions. Do we agree to hear the conditions before accepting?"

"Yes."