Set 2: Intensity

Flicker -- only her beloved Donovan knew her real name. Born on the streets, surviving there by thievery, before Donovan found her. A home, he provided her, as well as a lucrative business. The great Houses of the city wished to keep track of each other's situations, and paid Donovan and her well for that information.

Until the tyrant Barlow Ghust needed her services for a more nefarious reason?

A slight wrist movement, and the silver coin sailed up, straight up, and down again to wedge neatly between two fingers. Up again, straight, and down again. Flicker had been here, doing just this, for hours. The coin had missed only twice.

The moon hadn't peeked through the cloudcover this night, but Flicker took no chances. She didn't move until the horizon swallowed it.

And finally, time. Flicker arose, slipped through a gap in the hedge. The inn's north corner gave her little trouble, and soon she was up on the long roofline.

The inn rested against the castle's inner wall -- 80 feet high and mostly sheer. Mostly. It was risky trying such a climb in this darkness.

But Flicker had little choice. By sundown tomorrow, the king's signet ring had to be in the hand of Barlow Ghust. Because if not, the cutthroat Mr. Ghust had no reason to leave her Donovan alive?