Free Web NovelChapter 36: Getting Arrested?
The kid had upgraded from pickpocket to fence in the span of a week. Ambitious, but also monumentally stupid. Enchanted goods required registration with the Sanctum. Selling them without a license was basically painting a target on your back. free𝑤ebnovel.com
The Inquisitor was ten meters away now. Her hand had dropped to the sword at her hip.
Nacho moved without thinking.
He grabbed a clay pot from the nearest stall, ignoring the vendor’s squawk of protest, and hurled it across the market. The pot shattered against a support beam three stalls to the right, sending fragments of pottery and what smelled like pickled fish exploding in every direction.
The Inquisitor’s head snapped toward the sound. So did everyone else’s.
In the chaos that followed, Nacho closed the distance to Pip’s cart in three quick strides.
"Move. Now."
Pip’s eyes went wide. "What? I’m in the middle of a sale!"
"You’re in the middle of getting arrested." Nacho grabbed his arm and yanked him away from the cart. "Inquisitor in some shiny ass black armor is coming this way."
The color drained from Pip’s face so fast it was almost comical.
"Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit."
"Save the panic for later. Is there a way out of here that doesn’t go past her?"
Pip’s eyes darted around the market, his street rat instincts kicking in despite his fear. "The butcher’s stall. There’s a gap between it and the tanner’s shop. Leads to an alley that connects to the Low District."
"Show me."
They moved through the crowd, Nacho keeping his body between Pip and the Inquisitor’s last known position. His Mind Fortress swept the area, catching fragments of thought from the people around them.
—what was that noise—
—someone threw something, I think—
—where did that boy go, he owes me three coppers—
And underneath it all, a single thread of cold focus that could only belong to one person.
—target has moved, secondary signature detected, interesting—
Nacho’s blood went cold.
She’d sensed him. Not directly, maybe, but enough to know something was wrong. The "secondary signature" could only mean one thing.
She can detect my power.
The gap between the butcher’s stall and the tanner’s shop was narrow enough that they had to turn sideways to squeeze through. The smell was indescribable, a combination of raw meat and curing chemicals that made his eyes water despite his enhanced physiology.
They emerged into a cramped alley littered with garbage and what he really hoped was just mud. Pip was already running, his feet barely touching the ground as he navigated the maze of back passages with the ease of long practice.
Nacho followed, his Apex Senses stretched to their limit, tracking the Inquisitor’s position through the walls and buildings between them.
She was following. Slower than them, but methodical. Every path she took cut off another potential escape route.
She’s herding us.
"Pip. Where does this lead?"
"The Drowning Rat." Pip’s voice came in gasps between strides. "It’s a bar. Neutral territory. Even Inquisitors can’t make arrests there without the Rat King’s permission."
The criminal underground’s tavern. Great. Just where I wanted to spend my evening.
They burst out of the alley into a small courtyard dominated by a three-story building that looked like it had been built from the corpses of other buildings. The sign above the door showed a rat floating face-down in a mug of ale.
"Inside. Quick."
The interior was dark and smoky, packed with the kind of clientele that made Nacho feel right at home. Hardened faces, suspicious eyes, and the general atmosphere of people who would stab you for looking at them wrong. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com
Pip led him to a corner booth and collapsed into the seat, his whole body shaking.
"That was. That was too close."
"That was stupid." Nacho sat across from him, his back to the wall and his eyes on the door. "Enchanted goods? Really? Did you forget everything you told me about the Inquisitors?"
"I needed the money! My sister’s sick, she needs medicine, and the Sanctum healers won’t see anyone who can’t pay upfront. What was I supposed to do?"
Damn it.
Nacho’s irritation deflated somewhat. He remembered what it was like to be desperate. To do things you knew were dumb because the alternative was worse.
"How much does the medicine cost?"
"Fifteen gold. Maybe twenty if her fever gets worse."
Nacho reached into his inventory and pulled out a small pouch. He’d been saving it for emergencies, but this qualified.
"Here. Twenty-five gold. Get the medicine. Then lay low for at least a month. No more selling unregistered goods."
Pip stared at the pouch like it was a live snake.
"Why would you... you barely know me."
"You helped me when I first got here. Consider this payment for services rendered." Nacho pushed the pouch across the table. "Besides, I might need you again later. Can’t have my information source getting executed for petty smuggling."
Pip’s hand closed around the pouch with the desperate speed of someone who’d learned to grab opportunities before they disappeared.
"I owe you one, mister. I won’t forget this."
"Don’t call me mister. It makes me feel old."
The door to the tavern opened.
Nacho’s Combat Precognition fired a full second before he saw who walked in. His hand was already on one of his Silverion Daggers, hidden beneath the table, when the Inquisitor stepped through the threshold.
She paused just inside the entrance, her hawk-like eyes sweeping the room. The other patrons had gone quiet, conversations dying mid-sentence as everyone assessed the threat level of the new arrival.
Her gaze passed over Nacho’s booth without stopping.
Then it came back.
"Well, well." Her voice cut through the silence like a blade. "A Siren, in the Drowning Rat. That’s not something you see every day."
Shit. My form. I forgot I’m still wearing Tomas’s face.
The Siren appearance had been useful for getting through checkpoints, but it was also distinctive enough to stand out in a crowd. Especially a crowd that had already been primed to look for unusual presences.
Nacho didn’t move. Didn’t respond. Just watched her with the blank expression he’d perfected during his years collecting debts.
The Inquisitor walked toward their booth with the unhurried confidence of someone who was used to being the most dangerous person in any room. Her hand rested casually on her sword hilt.
"You know, I’ve been tracking an unauthorized magical signature all afternoon. Lost it somewhere in the market district, but then the strangest thing happened." She stopped at the edge of their table. "A secondary signature popped up. Stronger than the first. Much stronger."
Her eyes locked onto Nacho’s.
"You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?"
