We didn't risk returning to the streets. Together, Soren and I dragged the unconscious Blackthorne tracker into the corner of Vance’s root cellar, heaved the heavy oak trapdoor shut, and drove the iron locking bolt home. Soren shoved a weighted grain chest over the seam for good measure.
"Two hours if his patrol is careless," Soren murmured, wiping dark silt from his knuckles with the hem of his tunic. "One if their watch captain checks the cross-lane posts on schedule."
"We move through the drainage culvert," Selene whispered, her face pale in the faint moonlight filtering through the shop’s shattered rear shutter. She was shaking, but her grip on the small hand-crossbow never loosened. "It cuts under the southern palisade and empties into the willow flats half a league downriver. The w
