Dawn found me awake before the bells.
I rose in darkness, dressed by the dim glow of the coals in the hearth, and checked the purse twice to be certain the silver was still there.
It was.
I tied it securely to my belt, slipped my ledger into the inner pocket of my coat, and stepped out into the brittle morning.
The sky was a flat pale gray, promising snow before evening.
I walked quickly, not because I feared pursuit—though I did—but because I knew every moment wasted was another chance for the guild to close their hands around my narrow piece of freedom.
---
The first supplier I approached was a cooper I had dealt with once before. A broad-shouldered man with a beard like an iron curtain. He eyed the purse in my hand, then my face, then spat into the snow.
"Don't want the trouble," he grunted. "Whatever you're selling isn't worth it."
"I'm not selling," I said carefully. "I'm buying."
"And bringing the guild's eyes to my door," he snapped. "Take your coin elsewhere."
I tried another merchant. Then another.
The third—a gaunt woman who smelled of lamp oil—looked genuinely regretful as she shook her head.
"It's not you," she murmured. "But you've been marked, boy. Better you leave the city while you can."
"I have a license," I said, though the words felt thin.
"And the guild has long memories."
I left before she could finish the thought.
---
By midmorning, my resolve was fraying.
Each refusal was a fresh cut. Each wary glance another reminder that I was not as clever as I'd believed.
I paused in an alley off the chandlers' quarter, leaning against the cold brick as I tried to steady my breathing.
You knew this wouldn't be easy, I told myself. You knew the price.
But I hadn't understood how quickly a man could become a pariah.
Or how alone.
---
I was about to turn back when a voice spoke behind me.
"You look lost."
I turned, heart lurching.
A young woman stood in the mouth of the alley, her hair bound in a pale green scarf. She carried a ledger tucked under one arm, its edges marked with neat ribbons of silk.
"I'm not," I lied.
"No?" She studied me with unsettling calm. "Because you look like a man running out of friends."
"Do I know you?"
"Not yet," she said. "But I know you, Ren Arcanon."
I forced my voice steady. "Who are you?"
She tilted her head.
"Someone who doesn't care for the guild's monopoly," she said. "Someone who appreciates a little defiance."
I said nothing.
She extended a folded scrap of parchment.
"This address," she said. "Tell them Elinne sent you. They'll deal if you come before dusk."
"And what do you want in return?"
Her smile was thin.
"Only to see how far you're willing to go."
She turned and disappeared into the throng before I could ask more.
I unfolded the parchment.
A street I didn't know, marked only with a number.
I weighed it in my hand.
Another trap, I thought. Or another chance.
---
I did not allow myself to think too long.
I set out for the address.
---
The street lay in a part of the city I'd never walked before—a narrow warren of workshops and dye houses, the air thick with the stink of alum and stale urine.
I found the number painted crooked above a low door.
I knocked twice, then waited.
The door creaked open a hand's breadth.
"What?" a voice rasped.
"Elinne sent me," I said.
Silence. Then a sigh.
"Inside."
I stepped into a small, cluttered space. Shelves sagged under crates and jars, none labeled in any language I could read.
A man emerged from the shadows. Older, with a face like parchment and hands stained to the wrist with ink.
"What do you want?"
"Stock," I said. "Good quality. Small quantities."
"Payment?"
I held out the purse.
He plucked it from my fingers and weighed it in his palm.
"Why should I sell to you?"
"Because the guild wants you silent," I said evenly. "And I don't."
His eyes glittered.
"Fair enough," he said.
He gestured me to a bench.
"Wait."
---
I sat in silence as he moved between the shelves, selecting vials and pouches, measuring each with the same meticulous care.
At last, he returned with a wooden crate no larger than my forearms.
"Thirty silver's worth," he said. "Half the coin remains, the rest is my fee."
"And if I need more?"
"Come back. Quietly."
I nodded.
He held my gaze a moment longer, then turned away.
"Tell Elinne," he said over his shoulder, "that she owes me."
"I will."
I left without another word.
---
Outside, the day had darkened. Snow began to fall—light, delicate flakes that melted on my sleeves.
I set the crate carefully against my hip and began the long walk back.
At each corner, I imagined I saw the guild's agents in every doorway.
Perhaps you do, I thought. But you are still standing.
---
When I reached my stall, I set out the new goods with deliberate care.
Refined flux, lamp oil, fresh parchment—better stock than many established traders could claim.
As I worked, I caught the glances of those who passed. Some curious. Some wary.
And some that lingered too long.
I ignored them.
Let them see, I thought. Let them wonder how a boy in rags came by such things.
---
Evening fell before I finished arranging everything.
I was locking the crates when a folded scrap of parchment slipped from between two jars.
Frowning, I bent to pick it up.
My name was scrawled across the front in a hand I didn't recognize.
I opened it.
Four words, written in black ink:
You are marked now.
For a moment, I felt the cold seep through every layer of my coat.
Then I folded the note and slipped it into my ledger.
Let them come, I thought.
I would not bow again.