The lone figure crept into the firelight, casting a long shadow that wrapped around tree trunks.

"Is there only one?" I asked.

"Yes," Isla said, one hand on her golden sceptre.

The figure was of average height, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a long coat that fell below their knees. They went through the entrance and over Isla's trap.

I held my breath.

C'mon… C'mon…

"AHH!!!"

The ground gave way, and our would-be ambusher let out a clipped yell as they dropped seven feet into the pit.

"I worked! I'll check it out."

"And I'll watch your back."

I winced at the words. I didn't want her to watch my back. I wanted to crawl into a small, dark hole and not come out for a year.

Is this what rejection felt like?

I pushed the thought out of my mind.

I slid my cane into my hand, dropped to my belly and crawled out from under our bush.

A moment later, Isla walked through the leaves like they were made of mist. She stared down at me with a teasing look. I blushed, standing to my feet and brushing the loose grass off my jacket.

"You could of told me about that."

"I know."

She gave me another tight smile and gestured at me to go forward.

I really messed up.

We walked to the watchtower's entrance, surveying the surrounding forest for more of Rugar's mercenaries. If there was one, there had to be more.

The campfire was blinding. I raised a hand to face, waiting for my eyes to adjust. When my foot brushed against the empty earth, I leaned forward and stared down into the darkness.

It was empty!

A slurred voice rang out behind us.

"Now that wasn't nice."

Isla gasped.

I jumped to the side, spinning on my feet, and willing my dagger into my raised left hand.

In the amber light of the campfire, the figure, a man, stood before us.

He brushed the dirt off his beige coat with an absent hand.

Isla turned raised her sceptre, stepping to my opposite side to create distance from the stranger.

"Who are you?" I asked.

The man smiled, his gold tooth glinting in the firelight. He put his wide-brimmed hat against his chest and dipped his head in a slight bow. Strands of dirty blonde hair fell over his brown eyes. The dirt on the brim of his crumpled, brown hat spilled on the ground.

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"They call me Slippery Sim Markov. Sim for short."

"Who's they?" Isla asked, one hand to her nose. Even from a few feet away, he reeked of stale wine.

"Friends. Enemies… Lots of enemies."

He squinted, his eyes adjusting to the fire.

"Wait! I know you. Those eyes... Those ears... You're him!"

I pulled my arm back to throw the dagger.

"You work for Rugar?"

"Rugar?!"

He laughed.

"No. No... I work for the Claw."

I chill ran up my spine, and my whole arm trembled.

The Claw... Also known as Sin!

Before I could think, my left hand was moving. It swung forward, throwing my dagger at Slippery Sim's throat.

He thrust his right hand forward, catching the dagger in the lining of his brown felt hat.

"You REALLY need to work on your manners."

"Isla!"

Water burst from the end of her sceptre. True to his name, Sim ducked under the stream of water, sliding forward with unnatural speed. He tossed his hat at Isla's face, blocking her vision and then turned to me. He glided over the grass, narrowing the distance in a heartbeat.

My breath caught, and then a jolt of panic shot through my body. He was reaching for something in his coat pocket.

A weapon!

I willed my dagger back into my left hand before the pommel bumped into Isla's forehead. I slashed wide, meeting his weapon with a loud clang.

His weapon… was a metal drinking flask.

Sim looked from me to his flask and shrugged.

"You looked thirsty."

Another dagger pressed against the side of his neck: Isla's. Sim's blind spot worked both ways. Isla sidestepped his distraction and attacked him from behind while he was focused on me.

Our nightly sparring sessions were paying off.

Sim looked over his shoulder at Isla.

"You sure you don't want some?"

"Very."

The sceptre in her right hand shot a wide spray of water into Sim's torso. The force knocked him off his feet and sent him rolling in a tangle of soggy fabric.

"That's for the smell," Isla said, sheathing her dagger.

I kept mine drawn, sliding the rest of my cane back into the loop of my weapons belt.

Isla gave me an expectant look.

"What's going on?"

"He works for her…"

My voice was barely a whisper. I was somewhere far, far away, where the pain couldn't reach me.

"Who?" Isla asked.

"A good question," Sim said, rolling onto his hands and knees. "You didn't tell them, did you, Jacob? I don't blame you."

Tell them?! If Isla found out the truth…

"Why are you here?!"

Sim got to one wobbly knee. He wagged his finger in the air to emphasize his point.

"Another good question! One I'll answer when your party is gathered."

I shook my head.

"No! I can't trust you. I can't trust her!"

"Who?!" Isla asked, louder this time.

Sim sighed, getting to his feet and trying in vain to wipe the grass stains off his coat.

"Look. Do you have rope? If you're so scared of me, then tie me up. Preferably now before the buzz wears off."

He hiccupped and swayed where he stood.

"OK," Isla said.

I turned to her.

"You can't be serious?!"

"We should hear him out, and I want to know what you're hiding."

# # #

We extinguished the campfire in the watchtower and led Sim to our camp. I bound his wrists with my belt sash, and I kept the tip of my short sword pressed against his back.

In the back of my mind, I knew it wouldn't be enough.

He was an agent of Sin, and the way he moved...

My back itched, and I checked over my shoulder.

What did Sin want? What was she going to take from me this time?

We walked into a clearing in the forest where we made our camp. Castille leaned against the wheel of our wagon, her black blade resting across her lap.

"Simon?"

Sim sighed.

"She didn't tell me you would be here!"

"You know this guy, Castille?"

She pushed herself to her feet.

"Aye, he's a two-bit smuggler and he owes me money."

"You're still going on about that?! It was ONE card game."

"I have a long sword and a longer memory," she said, raising Dusk in the air. "What are you doing here? I thought you were rotting in prison or, better yet, dead."

Sim stood straighter, raising his chin in defiance.

"If you have to know, I found gainful employment with someone scarier than you."

Castille scoffed and looked at us.

"Where did you find this one?"

"He was looking for us," Isla said. "Actually, he was looking for Jacob."

Isla paused, narrowing her eyes in my direction. She wasn't alone.

They were all looking at me, except for Dugan and Thor, who were sleeping in the wagon.

Sweat beaded my skin.

What should I do? What should I say?

Sim coughed to get their attention.

"Where's your better half, Castille and his furry friend?"

"Sleeping."

"Do you mind waking them?"

"For you? No."

Sim shrugged.

"Suit yourself. You can tell them later. For now, we need to talk. My employer has a proposition."

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