Chapter 1 – Overcast

I breathed in rapid, shallow breaths, trying to keep cool in the humid heat. A voice sounded above me, fear poorly hidden behind bravado, and I looked up toward the source of the fear. An older lizard stood on the grate that covered half of my pit, a half-circle of toughs around him trapping him against the edge of the drop. One of them let out a scornful laugh and shoved him lightly. He screamed and clutched at his assailant in terror, his wide eyes seeking me below him.

I straightened up and grinned fiercely, beginning to pace against the wall where he couldn't help but see me. His eyes went even wider and he began pleading with his assailants, stammering apologies and promises, all pretense of bravery gone. This went on for a minute or so, then he fell silent as a set of footsteps approached. I stopped pacing as Danash came into view.

Tall and heavy-set, the crime boss's warm orange scales were traced with scars. He carried a thick, gnarled cane in one hand, leaning on it heavily when he walked, step-shuffle-clunk, step-shuffle-clunk.

"You told me two weeks, friend. What happened to two weeks? You made many promises. Where is the money?"

"I-I tried, I swear. I have half of it now. Here," he said, thrusting a leather sack at Danash.

The othe lizard made no move to take the bag. "The agreement was not for half, friend. Tell me why I should not feed you to my demon." He rapped his cane twice on the stones.

In response, I backed up as much as I could in the narrow pit, then sprinted a few steps and leaped for the grate. My claws scraped off the metal bars under the debtor's feet. He let out a piercing shriek and fell to his knees, babbling desperately. I made another jump, less powerful, and returned to pacing the wall.

Five minutes later the toughs escorted the lizard out, lightened by one bag of coin and burdened by more interest on his owings. Danash tapped his way to the edge of the pit as they exited and regarded me for several seconds. I met his piercing gaze with my own.

"That's it for today. You can come on up. Your pay's on the table."

I walked over to the door tucked under the grate-covered side of the pit, then spun back to the far wall. I sprinted and leapt, kicking off the wall and twisting, and caught the edge of the pit under one elbow and the grate with the other hand. One good heave and I was sitting on the floor. I grinned up at Danash's surprise, noting with satisfaction a hint of alarm in the expression.

"Always a pleasure doing business," I said, standing more sedately and offering him a playful half-bow.

He eyed me with reproach. "The stairs work fine, you know."

Yeah, but it's important you remember this is all just an act. I shrugged and snagged my money off the side table. "That way's more fun, though." I threw my cloak on and slipped out the door, glancing back one last time to see him shaking his head.

Our arrangement—protection and pay for me in return for a good act to help him squeeze more money out of his clients—benefited us both, but I'd be a fool to think he never considered actually imprisoning me so he could increase his profit margin. It didn't hurt to remind him once in a while that it wasn't worth it.

I stepped out onto wet cobbles, the fallen rain already warm from the day's heat and beginning to evaporate. The faint mist was good, helping to obscure me from passing glances, so I hurried my pace to take advantage of it before it fully dispersed. As I left the back alleys and turned onto a broad thoroughfare, I ducked my head to let my hood fall a bit lower.

Despite the recent rain, the heat was oppressive, the humidity pervasive, and I attracted no attention on my way home. I slipped through the crack in the wall that served as my door, wincing as my chest scraped. Need to widen this a bit, I thought, rubbing the affected spot, and added the day's earnings to my hidden stash of coins in the half-rotted ceiling.

I pulled out the leftovers from my breakfast and forced them down, grimacing at the lukewarm, moldering taste, then flopped down on my bed to doze through the afternoon's heat. When I fully awoke, the light coming in through my cracked, filthy windows was tinged with the orange-gold of late sunset, and the heat was pleasant rather than overbearing. I dug out a handful of small denomination coins for my dinner and began wrapping myself in bandages.

Much as it irked my pride to let people think I had the scabbing plague, I had found it to be the most effective disguise in my kit. The thin ribbons of cloth hid my skin color entirely, and people were afraid to get close or even look too hard at me for fear of catching it themselves. I could even beg for coin if I found myself on lean times, though my damnable pride generally drove me to head to the countryside and hunt for a while rather than debase myself for money.

But begging wasn't why I was spending an hour wrapping myself in strips of cloth. Tonight I was going out to hunt.

Once I finished wrapping myself from neck to toe, I hooked my short club to my belt and threw my cloak over the lot, adjusting it so the weapon was better hidden by the cloak's folds. I paused by the exit, reaching into a small crevasse in the crumbling wall and withdrawing a short leather thong with a few beads strung on it. This I tied around my wrist, listening as I did to make sure the alley was empty before slipping out into the gathering darkness.

The bracelet—it had been a necklace when I was small, but now it barely fit on my wrist—was the sole piece of physical evidence I had to prove someone had once loved me. I didn't dare wear it when I worked for Danash; he would notice it immediately, deduce its value to me, and find some way to use that to his advantage. It killed me to leave it at home, though.

I also thought of it as my conscience, and I never went hunting without it. My grandfather had foreseen that sooner or later I would need to acquire stealth skills to survive. Behind my mother's back, he taught me from a young age how to pick pockets, but he also taught me to choose my targets responsibly—to look for signs that someone is not as wealthy as they want to appear and not waste my time, and to target those who were cruel to the weak and avoid robbing the charitable.

The disguise helped me with that, too. I continually catalogued the faces of those who gave alms and made sure not to rob them. I also remembered those who kicked the beggars or preyed on them as prime targets. Of course, I wasn't a scrawny kid any more, and while I still had nimble enough fingers to snatch almost any valuable away from its owner without said owner realizing, people wouldn't generally let me get close enough to do so. Nowadays I cornered my victims and used force to take what I needed to survive.

I found a corner near where a poor neighborhood met a more affluent one and set up there. For the first hour or so there was nothing of note, wealthy passersby either ignoring me or tossing a few coins into my bowl. I continued to memorize faces as I watched and waited.

A pair of young lizards in expensive finery passed by, and I coughed to prime my "beggar voice," a dry rasp that made me sound old.

"Please, kind sirs, might you have any coin to spare?"

They slowed as they looked me over, and one smiled. "You poor fellow. I think I could spare you something." He stepped closer and spat a gob of phlegm into my bowl. His friend laughed at my cry of dismay, and he muttered, "Filthy beggar. Do the world a favor and go die. Somewhere else, preferably."

I bowed my head, mimicking sadness and hiding a grin. I had my first targets. I watched them walk away, analyzing them for hidden weapons and martial ability, then pulled my bowl close and dumped the coins into a purse I'd stuffed with rags so it wouldn't jingle. I slipped off at a right angle to their direction of travel, moving fast, then cut across toward them through an alley.

From what I could tell, they didn't have any weapons on them, and they were young enough they likely had no real fighting experience. They probably knew how to fence, and with two of them they would almost certainly fight back, but a few cracks with my club would convince them that the pain wasn't worth it. Plus, whatever they had on them would only be a tiny fraction of their full wealth, no great loss to them.

I found the pair and began shadowing them, waiting for other witnesses to clear out or for them to go down a less traveled road. Finally they turned down an alley, one I knew twisted for a ways between walled gardens and estates, and I moved, slinking up stealthily behind them.

"—unbelievable," one of them was saying as I came close enough to hear.

"You'll see," replied his buddy. "Scales as red as blood from crest to toes."

I froze, my lungs turning to stone in my panic. How? How had they known I was there? They hadn't even turned around! But they kept walking, apparently oblivious to me, and I finally forced my lungs to move, drawing in a breath. I crept after them, not trying to catch them this time, just listening.

"—not makeup? Or dye, maybe?"

The one who'd spat in my bowl laughed, just loudly enough to make me suspect he was a bit intoxicated. "Believe me, I'd have noticed, the way I had my mouth on her."

Her? My head spun. Was there another lizard like me? My breathing was coming out in ragged gasps, and I fought to get it back under control.

"—loving it, too. She's a lusty one and no mistake."

They walked a few steps in silence. "I've got to get into this brothel. How much do they charge for a night with her?"

Phlegm waved a hand dismissively. "It's not that much. The thing is you have to make a reservation. She's booked for months. That, and getting in the door in the first place. It's worth it, though. Trust me."

My thoughts whirled in mad dances at the possibility that there might be another with a mutation like my own. All thoughts of thievery gone, I followed the pair until they found another main road, then trailed them from a distance, careful not to let them out of my sight. If I lost them in the crowd… I didn't know what I'd do. Probably have a heart attack.

I trailed the pair onto wider and larger roads, unease growing in me. We were getting close to the Forbidden City, and even at this hour there were guards on patrol, more and more the closer we got. As the high stone wall of the royal palace complex came into view I ducked deeper into my cloak and adopted a limp. I had to get uncomfortably close to my quarry as the crowd grew, people of all kinds filling the spacious plazas and reducing visibility to a few dozen feet.

"You! What are you doing?"

I grunted as something heavy caught me on the chest. I faked a coughing fit and turned to see a guard holding his spear out, butt-first, barring my path. Fury rose in me, hot and blinding as the sun, but I forced it under control.

"There's no begging here. What is your business?"

"Just passing through, sir. On my way to visit my niece. She's taken ill—"

"Fine, go on. But I'll have my eye on you."

I nodded deeply, my relief that he wasn't going to beat me dampened as I looked around and saw no sign of the pair I'd been following. I continued forward for the guard's sake, hoping against hope to spot them, but there were too many people around, most in similarly fine clothing, and I eventually had to concede defeat.

Hope and despondency warred within me as I trudged back home. I hadn't made any money, and I hadn't found the brothel the two kin had spoken of. But I had a rumor and a place to start looking. Now all I needed was a way to narrow down the search.


I pored for one last time over my makeshift map, mosaicked together out of scraps of paper, parchment, and vellum I'd been able to scavenge or steal. It showed all the buildings for several blocks near the plaza where I'd lost my lead on the rumored red-scaled woman. As far as I could tell, my quarry must have been near their destination, so I had spent the intervening few weeks stealthily canvassing their projected path and assembling this map, covering it in notes and marking out buildings as I ruled them out as possible locations for an exclusive brothel.

Such a brothel must necessarily have some means of controlling who entered, allowing me to narrow my search to relatively few buildings right off the bat. Further trips through the area let me mark off buildings with clear purposes, plus some with large windows through which I could clearly see a lack of brothel-like accoutrements. That left me with a mere three possibilities, and since two of them had utilitarian, plain construction and the third much more elaborate architecture, I dared to hope that I had found my mark.

A few evenings spent watching those who entered and left the building had bolstered my hope; while the pair of kin I'd followed didn't show up, the majority of visitors had been wealthy-looking males. It wasn't a guarantee, but it was a high enough likelihood that I was willing to make my next move.

That was why I was up at this ungodly hour, when the sun's watery predawn light was just appearing. The tavern- and brothel-goers were mostly abed or incapacitated, and more industrious folk were only just beginning to rise.

I scanned my notes one last time and, satisfied I hadn't missed anything, turned to the exit. I paused, fingering the beads of my old necklace, and reluctantly tucked it into its hiding place. Then I slipped out into the cool of early morning.

I thought as I traveled about where such a brothel might keep a prized whore like what the one lizard had described. Somewhere safe, of course, which meant either the basement or high up. If she were valued and appreciated, it would be high, a tower or one of the top floors, but if she were more of a prisoner, the basement was more likely. I decided to begin my search with a quick and quiet perimeter at the base of the building while the streets were still empty, then, if I found no sign of her, climb the building and hope nobody looked up.

I approached the building from the side, expecting that the front entrance would be guarded at all hours. Glancing around to be sure no one was paying attention to me, I crouched down to peer in the first window. The narrow aperture had a sturdy metal grate in front of the glass, and peering through this I saw a lizard woman sleeping on a cot in a squalid room. I grinned. She wasn't red, but she was a good indication that this might well be a brothel. Other windows on the lowest level revealed a variety of people, all species and both sexes, though no red lizards. It was enough evidence to make it worth risking a climb, though.

The building had clearly been designed to prevent intrusion. The windows were too narrow for any but the most slender and flexible people to squeeze through, and despite the beautiful architecture, handholds were few and generally found together, near windows and the places where the stories were joined. But I had come prepared. I pulled out a handful of metal spikes and began to climb.

I decided to work from the top down, so I climbed straight to the roof, only glancing in the windows I passed on the way. Once on the roof, I looked around. There was only one tower, looking out over the nearest plaza, and I grimaced. Well, better to do it before it got any brighter. I glanced in the one window I could see from the roof, finding an opulent but empty room. From the way the massive, richly appointed bed dominated the room, I could tell I'd found the luxury rooms.

I peered over the lip of the roof, verified that no one was admiring the architecture, and drove in my first spike. I moved more slowly, taking care not to look down. The lower set of windows revealed more empty opulence, and, hope beginning to wilt, I moved up to the higher level of the tower.

These rooms were somehow even more luxurious, and I shook my head in disbelief. One piece of furniture from this room would feed me for years. Still pondering the inequity of life, I made my way to the second window. To my surprise, this one was caged with elegant, elaborately tooled bars, and the glass pane within was mostly open. Heart beating faster, I craned up to peer in.

There was someone moving around inside, a kin female by the height, and I leaned closer to get a better look. She turned, and I saw a flash of scarlet.

I found her! For a moment my grip went slack, and I tilted perilously, scrambling for a new grip at her sill.

She straightened at the noise, and I held my breath. "Damn rats are back," she muttered, and for several seconds I was lost in the warm, sweet alto of her voice, not comprehending the words until she turned and strode over to the window.

She could hardly miss me there, and I knew the moment she saw me, her eyes going wide. She drew in a deep breath.

"Wait!" I gasped, and released one of my handholds long enough to toss my hood back and expose my face.

The breath that would have been a shout for help came out instead as a somewhat undignified squeak, and she reeled back a step. For a moment we just stared at each other, wonder on her face and in my breast, and I felt an instant, deep connection, like a feeling of recognition. She blinked and shook her head, scattering the moment.

"Who are you? What are you doing here? How did you even get here?"

I had to clear my throat to speak. "I heard about you and had to find you."

She risked coming closer to the window and peered out, as though her tower might have somehow sunk to ground level overnight, and recoiled again when she saw my wrappings.

"Get away from me! I can't get sick!" She looked alarmed, horrified, and I shook my head quickly.

"It's just a disguise. To hide my skin. Here—" I leaned down and rearranged my spikes so I could stand in front of the window, then quickly began unspooling the bandages from my hand, exposing my skin to the elbow. "See?" I said, showing her the arm, and she came cautiously closer.

"Sorry," she said after inspecting me carefully. "It's just that I—" She broke off, looking at the floor. "All things considered, I have a pretty good life. But if I ever got sick, especially with something as contagious as the scabbing plague, they'd turn me out on the streets." She looked at me again, anxious. "I'd never survive. I don't know how you managed."

I smiled. "I'd love to tell you. But, ah, is there any way I could come in? Just so I'm not hanging here when someone decides to look up."

She shook her head. "The bars are way too narrow, and I can't leave this room."

Fury pooled in my gut, and I had to control my voice when I spoke. "Are you a prisoner?"

"No, I mean, it's for my protection." Seeing something in my face, she smiled. "It's not so bad. They take good care of me, and I'm safe here."

The part of me that felt an instant, deep connection to her the moment I laid eyes on her recoiled at that, unable to accept having a part of my soul imprisoned like this. But she seemed at ease, so I let it drop for now.

"My name is Emirys," I told her, changing the topic for both of our sakes.

"I'm Atika." She smiled sweetly and shook her head. "I still can't believe it. Another red lizard. Look, I'm shaking." She held out a trembling hand.

I tried to reach through the bars to steady her, but the gaps were too small for my hand. Frustrated, I curled my hand around the bars so my fingers at least could reach inside.

"I feel it too," I confessed. "I came here hoping to find you, and I still nearly fell off the wall when I first saw you."

She laughed, and the joyous sound buoyed my heart.

"So how did you get up here?"

I shrugged. "I climbed."

She looked at me in amazement. "How? It's nearly a sheer wall!"

I grinned. "Patience and skill. I wouldn't have survived this long without the strength and dexterity to scale a few walls."

"I suppose not," she said, leaning against the window frame. "Gods, I… I feel like I know you, but I don't know a thing about you."

I waved a hand, trying to approximate a bow without falling to my death. "Ask me anything, whatever you want to know."

Her eyes roved over my face. "What was your childhood like?"

"It wasn't too bad. I grew up with my mother and her parents. I never knew my father—my mother did not react well to the subject, and my grandfather later told me he'd tried to have her kill me at birth. He—my grandfather, I mean—was the best father figure I could hope for, though. He taught me almost everything I know." I absently reached for my bracelet, grimacing when I remembered I'd left it at home. "My grandmother was nice, I remember that much. She used to bake pies or pastries every day for me. She died when I was pretty young, though. And my mother, she always seemed sad. Sometimes I wonder if she regretted leaving my father to save my life. But she was always good to me. I always knew she loved me more than anything." I blinked moisture out of my eyes. I hadn't thought much about my family in a long time, mostly because the memories were often painful. But I wanted to share this part of me with Atika.

"What happened to them? Are you still living with them?"

"No. There was a mob when I was thirteen. They set our house on fire. I managed to escape, but they got my mother and grandfather. I've been on my own since."

"How terrible," she whispered, and I pulled a smile together.

"It's not that awful. As long as I disguise myself, I have free run of the city. I even have a job of sorts, a guy that uses me to frighten his debtors. It's not glamorous, but it's a life." She still looked sad. "What about you? Did you have a family?"

She shook her head slowly. "I never knew them. I don't know if they abandoned me, or sold me, or just died. I grew up here. When I was young, I would do simple chores around the place, and some of the prostitutes would play with me. As I grew older, I was expected to do more and more work to earn my keep. Then one day Rashid—he's the owner—told me that he'd found someone who would pay to sleep with me, and if I agreed I'd never have to work another day." She laughed, bitter. "I was young at the time, and I hated doing chores and errands all day. I agreed, and I've been here ever since."

I absorbed this all for a moment. "Do you regret it?" I asked gently.

"Yes and no," she replied. "I wish I'd had the strength to tell him no, or just leave. But he was almost like a father to me. He's taken care of me since before I can remember. And no, because I'm older and wiser now. I'm sure he brought me here from wherever I'd been living before with the express intent of making me an exotic, high-class whore. If I hadn't given in, he'd have eventually forced the issue, and I'd be a lot worse off."

Again my fury rose at the way she'd been treated, trapped. Again I mastered it for her sake.

"How did you hear about me, anyway?"

I gestured at my bandages. "Sometimes I act like a beggar, to find rich folks who like to hurt the other beggars, and…" I smirked, "force them to be more charitable. If you get my meaning. I was following two such fine, upstanding gentlemen when I overheard them speaking of you. So, instead of taking their money, I followed them."

She stared at me, wide-eyed. "But that must be so dangerous!"

"Not as much as you'd think," I assured her. "I keep the bandages on so they won't see my skin, and most of the time they're so worried about catching the scabbing plague they give me their money just so I won't touch them."

"Do you… hurt people?"

"Sometimes," I admitted, surprised by the shame my confession brought out. "That's why I target cruel people exclusively. If it comes to violence, they're just getting a taste of their own medicine."

Atika studied me as I spoke, and when I finished she nodded, seeming relieved. "I'm glad. I wouldn't like to think of you hurting people. It's a little better if they deserve it, I guess."

I dropped my gaze to my hands. "It was my grandfather who taught me to pick my targets wisely. But there was a while—after I lost my family—I was so bitter and angry that I just lashed out indiscriminately. After what happened with the mob, it felt like everyone was evil and cruel and deserved to suffer."

I looked up at a soft touch on my cheek. Atika had managed to slip her more slender hand through the bars and reach me, and my heart melted at the tender gesture. I gently laid my hand over the back of hers and went on.

"Of course, it wasn't just out of good conscience that he taught me to pick my targets carefully. It wasn't too long before I got nabbed by a thief-taker. But I was lucky; once he got a good look at me he seemed to understand why I was picking pockets. I think he could also see that turning me in would be a death sentence for me. He lectured me sternly about my poor choice of target and told me if he ever caught me again he wouldn't let me go a second time." I smiled at her concerned look. "Needless to say I was more careful after that. That encounter was all I needed to get my life back on track."

"Your life sounds much more exciting than mine," she sighed. "But more dangerous, too. You must be more careful, Emirys. I know we've barely met, but I couldn't bear to lose you."

Her words pierced my heart, and I nodded slowly. "Well, now I have someone to live for. That makes it easy." I glanced up, measuring the angle of the sun. "And on that topic, I had better go. This tower won't be silhouetted against the sun much longer." I released her hand, but she clung to me a moment longer.

"Thank you for finding me," she said, gazing at me earnestly. "Just knowing you live makes life more bearable. I am… so glad to have met you."

I gave her a grin. "You think I won't be back? Nothing could keep me away from you."

A chuckle burst from her, and she poked my shoulder. "You promised to be careful."

"I will be!" My smile faded, and I gave her a serious look. "Hey, if you ever do get thrown out, or you decide to leave and don't know where to go, ask after Danash. He'll be able to put you into contact with me, and I'll take care of you. It won't be glamorous, but it beats starving or being stoned."

She looked uncertain, and I gave her another smile.

"Remember the name, just in case. Danash," I repeated. She nodded. Before she could withdraw her hand, I caught her fingertips in a gentle grip and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. "Until next time, my lady," I said, giving her a wink as I pulled out and reset one of my spikes, stepping closer to the building's flat roof.

"Until next time," she agreed. "Remember, be careful."

I will, I promised her from the depths of my heart.