I wanted my bed. I wanted to close my eyes to darkness and forget this night. I wanted to forget that I’d just tried to give myself to a man—and that I’d been lacking. I’d thought I was bold and alluring, but I was only a girl playing at being a woman.

   A cry from the darkness jerked me from my maudlin thoughts. I stopped and spun around. The sound had come from an alley between large tenement buildings, maybe two blocks away. It was where the streets spread out from downtown and turned more residential, with fewer lights and no meandering crowds. In fact, I couldn’t see anyone over there at all. The shadows filling the alley gave up no secrets, and I wavered on whether to turn off to investigate. It would mean moving farther away from the safety of the public areas. The cry—a woman’s—sounded again. I remembered the stories I’d heard of the militia’s haphazard protection of the city. How many out there were helpless? How many felt as though no one could save them?

   I made my decision.

   I slinked toward the alley and used the shadows for my own cover. When I reached the entrance, a dull streetlamp cast flickering light upon a group of men fighting. Closer scrutiny revealed that three of them had ganged up on one. Unfair odds. And I didn’t see a woman anywhere.

   After a little more assessment, I realized that the single man was actually doing an amazing job at holding off the others. Maybe it was more of a fair fight than it seemed. But it triggered too many memories of the past, of gangs attacking those they outnumbered, to rob or do worse. That type of crime had occurred nightly in Osfro and was what Lonzo and I used to seek out. I started to charge forward with my knife until I realized how truly pathetic it was. Searching around, I spied a pile of discarded wood and other debris lying nearby. I grabbed a board, about the length of my forearm, that looked like it hadn’t rotted yet.

   The lone fighter was in a standoff with two of the men while the third attempted to come in from the side. I sneaked up behind him and slammed the board into his back as hard as I could, knocking him to his knees. The unexpected attack made his two companions falter, giving their victim an opportunity to punch one in the jaw. Before any retaliation could take place, the lone man deftly rolled across the ground and sprang neatly to his feet on the alley’s far side. As he did, he scooped up a sword lying nearby and pointed it at the others.

   The man I’d hit staggered upright and turned toward me, but the swordsman moved faster. He leapt over to us, jabbing his blade into my assailant’s shoulder with practiced ease. The man screamed and fell again. Without pause, the sword-wielder moved on to his next adversary, knocking that one down with a blow to the head.

   “Want to try your luck?” he asked the third.

   That man spoke boldly but backed away nonetheless. “Your crew cheated our boss! Your man had no right to swipe that shipment out from under us.”

   “Your boss has cheated us plenty of times,” the swordsman replied amiably. “And if he had any honor, he wouldn’t have ordered an attack like this. Now get out of here while we’re all still friends.” He glanced between his former assailants. They’d all managed to stand again but hadn’t retreated. “And we are all still friends, right?” That amiable voice had an edge to it, as sharp and deadly as the sword he held.

   “Yeah, we’re still friends,” said the one I’d hit, not sounding friendly at all. “Come on.” He beckoned to his comrades, and they slowly walked away, but not without several backward glances.

   When they’d disappeared from sight, the swordsman said, “It’s safe now.”

   I thought he was talking to me until I heard a stirring behind another pile of trash. A woman rose, holding a small child wrapped in blankets to her. “Thank you, Tom. Thank you so much.”

   “Nothing to thank me for. I thought Abernathy was better than this, but even I’m wrong sometimes. I’ll make sure there’s no repeat. Let me take you home.”

   “Oh, no. I can’t trouble you anymore. It’s just over there. Thank you again. The blessings of the Six upon you.”

   The woman scurried away, and the man didn’t take his eyes off of her until she entered a building down the street. Then he turned to me.

   He wore a mask, but it wasn’t meant for the elements, like mine. It was one of the ornamental ones, much as I’d seen among the earlier revelers. “And now, my guardian angel, I need to thank you.” He sheathed his sword and bowed before me, sweeping his cloak away with a great flourish. “Tom Shortsleeves, at your service.”

   “It . . . it’s nice to meet you, Mister Shortsleeves,” I replied, using the Belsian accent again. Even with his sword away, I kept my distance.

   He straightened up and tilted his head inquisitively. “You haven’t heard of me?”

   “No.” Sensing this disappointed him, I added, “But I’ve only just arrived in the city.”

   “Ah. Then you are forgiven, Miss . . . ?” He shrugged when I didn’t answer. “No matter. Angels don’t need names to do their deeds. Only brave hearts.”

   The mask. The sword. The theatrics. “Are you . . .” I paused, grappling with a polite way to phrase my next question. “Are you one of the men trying to be a pirate?”

   He threw his head back and laughed. “My dear, I am the one they are all trying to be.”

   “Well, like I said, I just got here. There’s a lot I don’t know.”

   And one thing I didn’t know was if I was in danger. Grant had explained the pirates’ bizarre role as law enforcement, but I hadn’t really believed it. Yet . . . this pirate—or whatever he was—had just saved a mother and child before my eyes.

   “You’re pretty skilled with a plank,” Tom said. He gestured toward the board I had dropped.

   I held out my knife. “It seemed more effective than this.”

   He leaned closer, but it was only to look. “A pillow would be more effective than that. At least then you could suffocate someone. A proper guardian angel needs a proper sword. But first things first. Let’s get in out of the cold and find a drink.”